Thursday, January 31, 2013

Women & Weapons

By weapon here, I mean women and their handbags.

Yeah, women's handbags contain all sorts of weapons.

As for me, I usually bought handbags with the most pockets and openings to store all sorts of things that are useful to me.

In the first two pockets, I put all make-ups including lipsticks, compact powder, oil blotter and handyplast for emergency blisters when I'm wearing new shoes. In the other pocket, I put chewing gum, car key and pen drive.

In the back pocket, I got a small notebook, library keys (at school, my table is at the library and usually I'm the second to arrive each day. If however my colleague has to attend courses and whatnot, I'm the one with the keys to open the library). Also, I got Kad Kebenaran Keluar Kelas which every student needs to go out of class at my school.

Inside the handbag which consists of two compartments; in the first compartment, I got two hand phones and my purse. In the second compartment, I stored my tablet, spectacles, tissue and sanitizer. Between the two compartments, there is a zipped space in which I put my ehem (what every woman needs every month) and also nail-clipper, nail file and tweezer. Yeah, there is a mini mani-pedi combo in my handbag.

Now, if I had a boyfriend, my handbag would also have his wallet, car key and phone.

Okay gentlemen, now you know why most women have pains on their shoulders and back. It's from carrying a big ass handbag. Be kind to them, give them back rub everyday. Better yet, massage their feet as well. They'll be eternally grateful to you!

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

DG 41

After two and a half years of waiting, I can finally truly call myself a teacher :")

That's the good news.

The bad news is the letter is dated November 2nd. But I only knew about it today, January 31st. And that's like 3 months gap, in which I could use the letter to serve its purpose which will benefit my service in my professional capacity.

Let me explain.

When you graduated with a government scholarship, in my case, Bahagian Pendidikan Guru scholarship, you would automatically be posted to available post to any schools around Malaysia.

You will be given 3 years probationary period, in which you have to attend and pass Suruhanjaya Perkhidmatan Pelajaran's interview, Kursus Induksi Sistem Saraan Malaysia and of course, get the approval from your school's Principal. Within that period also, you would have to make two Medical Check-Up and signed countless documents.

The process takes Dinasour's estimation of time to be overly done with. You would live that 3 years in uncertainty and eventually, begrudgingly accepting the fact that Que Sera, Sera; no use worrying about things that you have no control of, whatever happens, it will happen outside your control.

The thing is, these processes of sending letters to and fro is done by your school's clerk. So, if you can stand fake pleasantries and have the morale of an American bald eagle, then you can supply them with sweet nothings but your fake smile and fake attitude, clenching your teeth and reminding yourself over and over again, they don't own you so you don't blow up and slap them on the face. Most clerks are the untouchables; even worse if you've a Principal who is also afraid of the clerks and let them roam free to speak with a cold touch of sliced knives to you, then you're doomed. Doomed.

Worse, if you have a clerk who is prone to mood swings, one minute she's smiling and the next, she's looking at you like you're lunch, then  you are even more doomed. And the worst is, if you have a clerk that forgets thing like an IMPORTANT AND EXTREMELY URGENT letter, then you're absolutely FUCKED.

Working in school is hard. It's even harder for a person who just want to do her job without having to deal with office politics. Without having to be fake and pretend to be nice and smile when you've tonnes of problems on your shoulders and you cannot cry or lend someone else's shoulder to cry on.

Teaching these little brats are fine (although sometimes I wish I could dipped them into liquid nitrogen) but what I hate is the red tape and bureaucracy. But I guess I should be thankful and grateful as I got posted and enjoying my salary plus allowances. I heard some Facebook friends complaining of not having any job as they have to wait for the posting. Some of them are my juniors from the same cohort who waited for almost a year whilst I only have to wait for 2 weeks. Yeah, I guess I should not worry anymore. Because I'm a certified DG 41 now, bitches!

Monday, January 21, 2013

What If...

When I was at the canteen, the teachers were talking about the ex-student of the school I'm currently teaching in who is kind enough to conduct extra classes for the hostel students.

The warden was telling us stories about how these girls (the hostel is for girls only) we're ogling the male ex-student who is now an engineering student in Petronas.

It is amazing how all those kids just think about one thing; having a boyfriend. SPM? The biggest examination in their life which will shape the direction of their future? Mehhh... Having a smart and hunky boyfriend is all that matters.

What I'm writing about in my post today is not about the excess skin on the labia that these girls haven't managed to circumcise leading to their inability to be dignified and self-contained, but the after effect of the conversation. The teachers were talking about the ex-student and they were referring to their own life story.

One teacher was saying that her father hid her offer letter from Petronas to be an engineer. And another one joked, if this teacher became an engineer instead, she'll be wearing a skirt and not a baju kurung.

Still, this sheepish innuendo is not the topic of my post today. What I'm really writing about today, is the old age question of What If's.

We keep asking ourselves of what could've happened if we took a different road instead of the road that we have chosen. In my case, what if I took up the offer to study medicine in Gajah Mada? Would I cut open a patient and forgetfully left a gauze inside? What if I became a lawyer instead? What if I had a sucky SPM result and I ended up nowhere but slithering around the house and only irk the shit of my parents?

These questions would always linger inside our minds. Even though we've thought about the choices that we made a billion times, still when we're lying in the bed late at night with nothing to do, all these gnawing questions would be up and about in our minds. We keep imagining an alternate universe where we're living the lives that we could've lived if only we made another choice. Although we know thinking about it does us no good except making us question the choices that have been made yet we love to torture ourselves with uncertainties while the reality is staring at us right in our face. Humans, we never see something big like an elephant right before our eyes but we're perfectly capable of seeing a microscopic Protozoa across the ocean. Why? Why do we love to do that? What makes us keep thinking of things that we've no power over? Maybe because our current life is not as rosy as we'd like it to be. That's why we love to imagine a life unlike the real life that we're living right now. Maybe that's also why we love to watch films. Films that have happy endings. Miraculous events or serendipitous situations that you know are bullshits and have zero percent chance of ever occurring in real life.

Another theory is because I think we're never satisfied with how our lives turn out to be. Unless you're a guy and you're Hugh Heffner who could have any sluts, oopss ladies in the world or you're a woman and you're miss universe who is dead-drop gorgeous, your life, no matter how awesome you'd like to think it is, would at times, suck. Hence, during those times of suckiness, you're prone to think about shits that could happen if you made different choices in life.

At times, moi also wonder what would've happened to me if I didn't enroll in IPG and found my first love which has been my crush for all my teenage years and is still my lifelong love, English.

I'll probably lose direction in terms of what to do with my life as my life truly began in IPG. That's when I knew I could string words together and create something out of words sequenced next to one another. And that's when I figured out that I'm good at something. And that made me feel worthy.

So, next time you're wondering "what if..", it's ok. It's only human to do so. Chill. Things could be much worse if you hadn't made that choice.

Sunday, January 20, 2013


I've been trying to find a decent pair of shoes all over KB...

And finally I found this at Parkson Grand!

Saturday, January 19, 2013

#3 Soul

Lying here
Don't know what to do
Feeling so worthless
Feeling so overlooked
Stuck here a thousand times
Eyes shut
Mouth unable to speak a word
Body restless
Heart faithless
A soul without peace
Is a soul alone
A soul without love
Is a soul with painful memories
Just let it go
Runaway far and fast
And never look back.

P/S: Imagine never being apart from your parents for 17 years then suddenly having to live on your own for 6 years, away form home? That's how I felt. But there's no way out as education is more important. Back in form one after UPSR, got an offer to study at a MRSM, a boarding school which was like an hour away from my home but I only stayed there for 3 days before bawling my eyes out and troubling my parents and my principal to allow me back to SMKZ (1), my original secondary school, which was an all-girls school. So you could imagine my awkwardness seeing the XY creatures for the first time when I registered in IPG. Yes, I was all types of wrong. Luckily, after SPM, I lost 30 kg of weight so I was not FAT and AWKWARD then. My thinnest point ever was at 55 kg. And then after 2 years of being thin, I started to ballon up again. Such a wasted effort. This is me a.k.a the ballooned up version.

#2 Ready to Die

I was born 17 years ago
With a lot f suffering and pain
Along the way
Cause so much trouble
To the person who brought me
Into this malicious world

Living for 17 years
Suffer twinge, tension and ignorance
Being hurt so many times
That I become immune to it
Filled with hatred
Toward the people
Who betrayed me
Toward the people
Who stabbed me in the back constantly
Toward the people
Who treated me like I am worthless

I am ready to die
Runaway and leave this fraud world now
Take my breath away
Take my soul away
Take my faith away
Because I am ready to die.

P/S: I've actually been writing for 9 years according to this poem which I wrote when I was 17. I forgot I've been 26 for almost 4 months now. I still think I'm 25 years old. Hehehe

This poem was possibly written at the lowest point of my life. When I was away from home, I constantly thought of ways to die though I've never been clinically tested for depression or any manic disorder.

And this is me now. I think God made me work at my hometown because He knew I could not go through the same feeling I felt back then, hundreds of kilometers away from home.

#1 Love Me

There are a lot of things
Hidden inside my heart
Some I could not recite
Some I could not tell myself

I am a body without soul
Never been loved
Never been cared
Always been unnoticed

I am alive but I am alone
I could only fool myself
Telling everything is fine

So, hold me when I fall
Wake me when I am dreaming
Slap me when I am lost
Love me when I am gone

I never let you down
Even if I could
Always try to please you
Even though I have to sacrifice myself
So, don't think of me
When I am not here anymore.

P/S: so this is the first of the two hundred poems that I have written over the past 8 years.

I started writing when I got into IPG. First, because I missed my family back home so much (I don't think I ever got cured of homesickness) and second, because I was boring and had nothin better to do. Now, I don't have much free time so I write less and less except for assignments and academic works at school and of course, this blog. And third, before my 3 year relationshit, I think I got friendzoned by this guy and since I've never been in love at the time, I didn't even notice I got friendzoned until much later in life.

And love here means cold, hard love from guys. I'm pretty much loved by my family so that kept me whole before this whirlwind of relationshits got hold of me and you could see that in more poems to come. Stay tune!

Thursday, January 17, 2013


When I was studying in IPG, I had this fear and suspicion that people were only close to me for a reason.

I felt like I was not worthy of any human companion and I never really had any close friendship back in school. Being an overweight kid, my self-esteem was non-existent and my only salvation was English and I found joy in Choral Speaking. The attention is not given on you but on the whole group performing the Choral Speaking. So, I felt less of a dork and enjoyed every training session. However, I remembered the incident when I was in Form 2. At the time, I went to an afternoon session school. At 11 a.m., I received this call from my classmate, informing me that I had to take part in Public Speaking which would be held on the same day. People told me that I had a straight face and it looked as if I was always cool and never felt fear or caught being nervous. Maybe there was some truth in what they were saying since I nailed that Public Speaking thingy despite having no formal training and within a limited time (almost none) to practise.

When I got to UPM, a dick in the form of a coursemate asked me to get into a relationship with him. Suddenly, it seemed like my prayer for love had been answered. But God had a funny way to show me that I wasn’t ready for a life-long commitment.

When it was time for group work, before I was in a relationshit, I always feared that nobody wanted to be in the same group with me. I knew I had a reputation of being the killjoy in the group since I always got my job done way before the due date and I didn’t like to leave thing at the last minute. Most of the time, when people asked me whether I had completed a particular assignment or presentation, the answer would most likely be “yes”. So, some people thought that I was trying to show off and some even called me a suck-up and ass-kisser as I always asked the lecturers everything that I didn’t understand about a particular assignment or presentation.

After I got into the relationshit, I was holding on to the wrong person for so long and everything that I did was overshadowed by him. If I didn’t include him in the group work, he would be pissed and ignored me for days. He even called me names and his favourite was “bodoh” which was ironic since I graduated with a first class degree.

My friends (the ladies) tried to save me from him as most of them had run into him, hand in hand with other bitches but I was too blind to see. Or rather I didn’t want to see. I was afraid nobody would want to be with me in group work. It sounded stupid now that I thought about it but at the time, hundreds of miles away from my family, my only rock was my idiot boyfriend who didn’t see head of tail of everything. I knew he used me, financially, academically and emotionally. Everytime we wanted to go back home for the holiday, it was usually my money or my mother’s money (for return tickets). Everytime we went out to eat, I was usually the one paying. And for almost every assignment, that was my idea with his name on it. Without me, I didn’t think he would be able to graduate with a second class degree. And emotionally, I was used a punching bag. I knew he had other bitches, one in UTM and a few in UPM where we were studying and I knew I was only a spare part in case the others forgot to give him money.

And I forgot other potential candidates with whom I could have spent my whole life with just because I was being loyal (loyally stupid). I could have been with Ragu, Nazri, Fahad or Terrence but I pushed away any single guy that was trying to get close. So, if one day he asked for forgiveness and asked me to forget and let go, I would kick him right in the balls. Oh wait, he’s sackless!

So, I stayed.

Even on his wedding night, he sent a text that he would always love me and we would eventually be together. What a first class, mega, giant A-HOLE.

Since then, I had trust and abandonment issues. I always regarded someone who is trying to get close to me to have an ulterior motive. And I’m always afraid to be alone. But no matter how hard I try, I would end up being alone anyway. You know that feeling when the tables around to you at the canteen are all full and you are the only one eating alone? Yeah, that is me. Or what about during courses, other people are ready with their tablemates but your table is still empty as nobody wants to sit next to you? Yeah, that is me.

You know when you bite off even more than you can swallow and it got stuck in the middle of your throat? That is exactly how I feel everytime I am being left alone. But I put up a big, fat facade to show the world I’m A-OKAY even though I am screaming inside and thinking of ways to die.

Sometimes I feel people hate me for no reason. And that giant pit in my stomach starter to become bigger until I feel into it, never to recover.

So, when my students complain that things are hard for them or they are crying because their boyfriend left them or their girlfriend has to move to another place, let me say kids, I had people shit a giant dump on my head and I kept moving on, despite the rotten smell and the tarnished scar left on my heart. If you want to be a whining bitch, I will bitch slap you so hard that you will forget which side of the atmosphere you’re living in. And if you are making that as an excuse to not excel in academics, I would slap you again that you will forget which hand you use to write.

Pardon my violence, things have not been so good at home lately. My foster grandwitch, I mean, grandmother is making life hard to live. She can move her feet and relieve herself in the toilet which she pestered us to build and which cost 5K but she insisted on wearing diapers. And in the morning, my mom and I would be her slaves to mop her piss as she piss on the floor and on the bed until we run out of bedsheets. She would wreck her room by taking out all the used diapers and strewn them all over the room and then we have to mop it again with antiseptic and Dettol . Then, we would have to endure the horrifying and gut-wrenching smell of adult waste while we bathed her and changed her diaper which she will once again throw away. And then even though her hands work just fine, we would have to feed her and refill her water dispenser and make Milo twice daily with Anlene (all that shit about drinking Anlene to make your bones stronger, they lie) and sugar. She eats almost six times a day, even more than National Service trainees. Nasi lemak for breakfast, kuih in between breakfast and lunch, lunch plus grape or pomegranate, tea time- usually biscuit or bubur kacang, dinner and then Milo again. Despite this royal treatment, if however guests come to my house and see her, the only thing she would tell them is how she longs to eat this and that and how bored she is. She is never grateful no matter how good we treated her. My mom is the one who suffers a lot as when I am at work, she has to take care of this witch as my father can’t do it because it’s haram and that witch is not my father’s mahram. Upon reflection, I know the reason why Allah SWT didn’t grant the witch any children because she does not deserve the most precious gift as she is a cold-hearted person without no sense of appreciation and gratitude for the sacrifices that my whole family have been making for her sake while her true family, like her nieces and nephews and that prodigal son, her nephew who she cared for since a baby, don’t give any fuck to her and let my family be the slaves to fulfil her every whims and fancies.

I also guess Allah SWT gave this witch to my family because He knows we can take care of her and not lose our sanity while we are at it. And I hope Allah SWT has a plan, a good plan for my whole family for our sacrifices and patience and tolerance while we try to keep our cool after being tested day after day by this inconsiderate witch.

And that is why I think my life sucks. Everybody hates me. Once my lecturer told me I had a very condescending face. I guess she was right. Maybe that is why people hate me and do not want to sit next to me. Maybe that is why people do not want to be close to me like I am contagious. Maybe Allah SWT thinks I am strong enough to face this and He is giving a sign that this is how it is going to be for the rest of my life. And how do I deal with it? By ignoring these hateful voices inside my head and keep doing what I think is best. By working hard for myself and not living my life for the sake of others. Even when I am hated for being who I am and doing what I want or going where I want to be. If this is the price for individuality, so be it.

P/S: I don’t understand people who take another chair to a table of four and have to practically squeeze themselves in the tight spot just because they do not want to be sitting alone.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Week End

I know why they call it weekend.

It appears to late and vanish too soon.

Friday, January 11, 2013


I saw that you've a daughter.


Remember what you said to me.

Karma's a bitch.
Hope she'll meet a bastard who hurt her over and over again so that you'll know how my parents felt when you cowardly told them about your plans to marry me and then sacklessly left me and married a bitch who suited you just fine because both of you are cheaters and lying whores.

And I hope your family who were on it with you gets what's coming for them. I think they already had. Or what's left of your family.

I might be alone for the rest of my life and I want you to know that you're responsible for it. All those years being with you and I could've find someone better than you. Someone that could've make me happy but you were too selfish and manipulative. You're a psychopath who harm others without any remorse or conscience.

Fuck you and I hope you die a painful and terrible thousand deaths. This is only the beginning.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013


So right now I'm attending Majlis Penutup Orientasi Tingkatan 4.

When you get to school, especially secondary school, the amount of ridiculousness that you've to suffer is insurmountable.

Take for example, during the event itself, some assholes at the back keep jeering and making pig noises for every slips that the MC made.

The Masters of Ceremony happen to be two girls because I'm pretty sure the boys are sackless to be speaking in front of the whole student body of Form 4. All they're good for is whistling playfully and never shut up when people are talking.

Even though they're already in Form 4, but their mentality is still stuck like a four year old. Trying to purposely sabotage the event by disrespecting the guest of honor who is the Senior Assistant of Administration.

Seriously, these people would grow up to be douchebags. Maybe they could open up a membership club for International Douchebags alike. These people, especially those who are quick to judge people who made mistakes by laughing out loud, for instance, when the MC said something wrong, will grow up being insignificant little pests who never achieve anything in life simply because they're too afraid to try something for fear being laughed at. The same goes to students who never respect others. They will grow up being angry because nobody respects them in return.

The truth is, I'm afraid of raising up kids for the phobia that I'll not be able to educate them and turn them into human beings. It's a scary and huge responsibility to be turning little humans to some resemblance of civilized human beings. And I'm no saint. And they say that the children are the mirror image of their parents. I don't want my kids to grow up feeling unwanted, ugly, stupid, not worthy of love and depressed all the time. I don't want them to be fooled by manipulative psychopath who are just after their money or intelligence. And I don't want them to grow up feeling inadequate and deserve nothing less than what they are entitled for. And of course, I don't want them to get hurt either physically, emotionally or mentally.

Maybe I am better off alone after all.