You know, it's amazing, these social networking sites. Especially Facebook. Now we're all a certain degree of stalkers. You can find anybody, you can see anybody, and you can know so much about anybody.

And the thing is... there are so many hot chicks on Facebook.

Okay maybe it's the make up or camera angle or lighting. Whatever. They still look damn hot on those pictures. It's not like they're ever going to meet everyone on their friends list, so I'll assume that those who rely heavily on superficial effects to look hot in those pictures are deluding a lot of people whom they've never met.

Today, out of boredom, I clicked on an old friend of mine, and holy cow has he got a superhot girlfriend. She's so hot, I OD-ed on her hotness and puked. Yeah. I'm not gonna share the link.

Anyway, one of the first few things that popped into my head was, 'A man-whore I know would most definitely do her.'

And then I realized that lately - or maybe it's been going on for a while and I never really noticed - oftentimes I see a gorgeous girl on Facebook, I'd think that way. And if I see a not-so-hot-girl-trying-real-hard, I'd think, 'Nahhhh... he won't. Well, maybe.'

It's not healthy to think that way! And it's not healthy to stalk people either!

But goddamn, it's so easy.

I'm watching you.

Because I'm a nostalgic pig.

I was looking to rediscover myself, so I decided to revisit my old blog. I was funnier back then.

When you sleep in class, always close your mouth.

Monday, July 24th, 2006

It was a boring lesson. Badly lit hall. Lecturer was speaking too softly. He had his funny moments, though. My eyes I’d blink and they’d stay closed. So I rested my cheeks on my palms, elbows on the table. Promptly fell asleep. Woke up about quarter of an hour later and the page in front of me was pretty darn wet. There was still a trail of saliva from my mouth to its destination. Thank god I was sitting alone. Honestly.
An observation. Body language is interesting. Why do people, particularly males, have this need to assert their dominance over others? This morning we had class with a group of teachers who were ‘back to school,’ so to speak. These were some old birds. Our lecturer, male, could call him experienced, asked one of the teachers to stand in front of class to present some stuff on morphology and morphemes. When the old bird was up there, said lecturer, who was still standing, put his leg up on a chair, posing ala Legolas or Will Turner. Doh. Maybe I misinterpreted it. Perchance he was just airing his balls.
But even in normal conversations. We can only be comfortable with people once the dynamics of dominance and submission are established. Only when we fit into the roles we subconsciously set for ourselves, can we truly say that we belong to a particular group. Human nature. Strange shit. Boring post. Boring days.

-- end

So if you are too bored, do visit http://crazyfrog.blog.friendster.com/2006/07/ for some laughs.

So I'm home, after two lovely weeks of holiday. I did so much. Went to Cornwall, went hiking here and there with my family, had a great time. The coast is so beautiful, the views spectacular. We relieved boredom at night by playing Road Rage on the console or watching Lord of the Rings, 1, 2, and 3. The days flew by so quickly, it was unbelievable.

Then I went for a rock concert at the Royal Albert Hall, alone, and it was a wonderful experience. Would have been perfect if I had someone with me, but it was nonetheless awesome.

The next day, slightly hungover, I went on a train ride to Manchester for a measly 5 hours just to visit Dan, who thought that I would be staying for the night. We had some confusion there, heh. Dan, I'm still waiting for those dumplings.

The day before I had to come home, we went shopping at The Oracle, and I went bonkers at Primark. Yes, I'm cheap. Whatever. We had a Dog Whisperer marathon at night, and I totally respect Cesar Millan. I'm going to get his book when I get the chance to do so.

And finally, the sad day came to leave England. My sister, my dad and I ended up playing Big Two the entire afternoon in some sort of bonding session whilst my mom sat at the living room playing with her iPhone. I guess it was a dysfunctional family moment. We had a really early dinner and we were off to the airport.

And here I am, home. Hot, jetlagged and swarmed by memories. Will I go back? Without a doubt. I'll need to work crazy hard for it though, and I will. God willing.

The lousy thing is, here, at this time of year, it gets light earlier. So every morning I wake up, look at how bright it is outside and think that it must be quite late.

I'm usually wrong. It always turns out to be 6-7am when I check the time. And I usually can't go back to sleep again.

I'm in England again, and either it's a damn cold year or I've gotten older, because I feel really really out of my brains cold. Nothing much has changed in Reading. I'm just trying to take more pictures to better document my trip, but it's so cold, I am wont to take my hands out of my pockets.

We spent the whole day travelling today, getting to St Ives which is in Cornwall. It's right at the south-western tip of England and it took us an entire day to get here, with the constant stops and the very long stop at Wells City to have a look at the medieval Wells cathedral. More about that when the pictures are up.

Unfortunately, by the time we arrived at St Ives, it was already dark and I couldn't get a good view of the Atlantic ocean and the surrounding environs, but there's still a week to go. We're lodged in a comfortable town house but it's sorta funny shaped so we gotta watch our heads to avoid banging against the awkward angled beams. Casualties so far: Mom, 1. Josephine, 2.

I'm just told the itenarery, and we're going to some outdoor theater tomorrow for a look see. Maybe we could explore St Ives a little as well.

Note: On the highway, everybody keeps to the left-most lane; the middle lane is used when you are travelling moderately faster than a truck, and nobody keeps to the far right lane for long. You just cut and move back to the middle lane. The entire damn stretch of right lane is always virtually empty. Awesome, innit.

I've been so busy these past two weeks. Although I planned to stay home at night, I always failed to do so. Except on Tuesdays that is. I teach tuition to a bunch of kids on Tuesdays.

8 o' clock morning meetings. Two days in a row. Subsequently followed by a 9 o' clock meeting. Then another meeting in the afternoon. I feel busier than the goddam Prime Minister.

Well, thank god for my two-week break. Hallelujah!

I'm really, really, really dreading the 14-hour flight though. Sigh.

UK here I come! Strawberries and cream, FTW!

Moving forward

I wanted to start conversational French classes, but the secretary told me that I need to be enrolled in a normal class before I can take conversational classes, which are to be treated as supplementary classes. The fuck? I just want to converse in French, which I can already haltingly do! But anyways, a friend is helping me out to talk to la directrice, so fingers crossed that by the time I get back from England, I will be parley-ing.

That aside, I've been going to the gym for two weeks now to improve my health and my poor lungs. My secret wish is to have Jessica Biel's body, but I'll tell everyone that it's for my health. Shhh.

I think I'm going clubbing this weekend? I hope so? I'm not too sure. Torch is getting nauseatingly monotonous and sad, so I think that clubbing would be nice for a change. But clubbing! Paying a bucketloadofcashforwatereddownbeerjusttowashmyeyes is painful. It better be worth it.

PLUS... I'll be going to England next week! Cornwall... TCV... and, still tentative, Manchester to visit my asshole ex-boyfriend who is actually a nice and funny guy. I hope he never reads this, because he'd be infuriated over being called an asshole, then his ego would be inflated because I admitted that he's nice and funny.

After that, I can start planning for a trip with friends to Perhentian in May. Then comes World Cup. Then, god knows! Just not a nunnery in Spain, I hope.

Life is good when you want it to be. So I'll be good and fantasize about other things instead, like owning a French bulldog:

Dogs. Way better than men.

In a spate of inspiration, I shall predict what will come in five years for me.

I'll be 30, oh my god! I'll be helping to look after my sister's child(ren) and trying to enroll in the most remote nunnery in Spain.


I'll also be trying to write my first novel. Most probably, I would be at the first page of my glorious novel about Malaysian life, struggling to finish writing the first paragraph.

I might still be working where I am, turning into this human prune. Or, I might be in KL, turning into a major human prune.


I would also be a weekend alcoholic, and a closet weeknight alcoholic.

Seeing that I will be in the start of my thirties, my metabolism rate would have slowed down and I'd be fat, at the rate that I eat. The amount (or lack of) facial care that I use would mean that I'd look like Winston Churchill.


That is, if the country hasn't yet erupted into a civil war. If it does, I'll most likely swim to Phuket and seek asylum.

Almost two weeks of being single. Let's see... If I was still with Larry, at this moment, I'd probably still be in front of my computer, bumming about. No difference. So, no regrets there.

After so long, my friends and I went to Red Box for a round of serenading to each other (sometimes not very pleasantly). We took the package for 5 + 1, and all of us struggled to finish three jugs + one mug of beer. By 4 o' clock, most of us were slightly wasted.

End of story. My poor liver.

In retrospect

I've been doing a hell lot of thinking lately, and some soul searching. I guess this led to the break up between Larry and I. I called it quits because of a plethora of reasons.

I've told this story so many times that I'm actually quite sick of telling it anymore. We've been dating for almost three years, and it's not like I woke up one morning and decided to end it. No. I thought about it long and through.

Like I told him, I guess we both didn't put enough effort into the relationship. Especially true for a long distance one. I mean, the distance and all is already hard enough, yet I have to face seeing his pictures on Facebook arm in arm with another girl? Wait, I should correct myself. Other girls. Just because his friends are doing it too, that doesn't mean I'm OK with it. His friends do drugs too, why doesn't he do that as well? Dumb. Never use blain. Skewed principles.

And I guess I got sick of him rushing back to KL after visiting me for the weekend, only to hear of him going for drinks the moment he arrives back there. Stupid me, always buying the late flights home because I wanted to spend an extra hour or two with him. Stupid me, for taking leave on Monday morning so that I could spend Sunday night with him. Ah, I thought that was love.

I recently met up with a relative, and her husband's working in KL. They've been married for years and years, and yet, every weekend he would fly back to be with her. Every. Weekend. How sweet is that? I mean, I guess if you're in love and all, you'd want to spend every opportunity to be with that person. And fuck me, they're married! Aren't you supposed to be more complacent and boring after marriage? Jeez.

Plus the distance made me independent. I realized that hey, I had a life too without him. I stayed home (usually) on weekdays, reading or playing games and most of the time hanging out with my dog, and on weekends, I'd go out with my friends. I was having fun without him most of the time, as was he without me. So... why were we still together? Some weekends I'd go to KL and some weekends he'd come to Penang, and I realized that this disrupted my routine. I dislike disruptions to my routine. I couldn't wake up too late on weekends because I had to spend time with him. I made myself cook for him because he likes spaghetti. All the while I'm toilling downstairs, he's upstairs playing DotA or something. The life, huh.

And I guess we both love our hometowns too much too. My friends, they're down-to-earth. We're real. And we certainly don't get inspired by TVB to give ourselves fancy names like Bosco or Durian or, fuck, Fish. Larry says that we are too sensitive because we don't take insults from each other (for example, we don't call a friend pussy or chicken just because he can't drink). I guess it's just mutual respect. I don't know.

I'm also sick of his prioritizing his friends. Yes, friends are really important, but like a colleague said, friends should understand that family and loved ones come first, else they're not your real friends. I mean, I don't even have to give the 'your friend and your mom are drowning in the middle of the sea and you have only one rope to save them and you won't have time to save the other because a great white shark is about to attack which one would you choose' situation. It's a very simple question of: 'Would your friend feed you, clothe you, care for you, pay for your education, give you shelter, and when you weren't able to, wipe the shit off your ass for free for an average of 17 years?'

Didn't think so.

Plus, the love fizzled out. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

I imagine him, wallowing in his self pity, thinking why did I leave him, he, who is such a great guy, an all-rounder, a patient, loving, attentive, sweet, good person. Couldn't figure out what he did wrong. Came from a good family too, not like my broken one (makes me realize how utterly dysfunctional a 'good' family can be). I imagine him blaming me for giving up so easily, for throwing such a good person away. Thus, he himself gave up on me, for being the one who was always calling it quits. He gave up, and felt self-righteous about it. You can bet your bottom dollar on that. Then I imagine his friends, rallying around him, telling him life's still young, she doesn't deserve you, bla bla bla. Let's find a new chick for you. She wasn't hot anyway. She doesn't know what she's losing.

So hi, people. I know what I'm losing. I see it with clarity. And I'm happy.

I know he won't change. I've asked for a change before and I still don't see it. And it's unfair to ask him to change.

Thank you for the memories and the good times, Larry, and I wish you well.