It's the end of the year-- and I want to end it with a post

Hello everyone, (this might just be two very special people but whatever really) I know it seems like I've been dead for the past month or so? But hurrah, I am not! I've just been lazy and not so productive and cheerful about my life. Well there are updates, I read a lot more, which I am quite happy about, I hear less of my mother when I read and I can ignore everyone else which is quite a ball. If you don't know, I'm short, and yes on the (very) slight chubby side. <-- what you saw there was, yes; denial. Another one of my problems. And my hair is really shit, it's dry and fine and it might as well be burnt hay. So. Naturally I'm insecure-BUT! I know exactly what for. I look like a potato in dowdy clothes, because you know stores don't make clothes for potatoes, only logic you see. However if they do, (Some stores do) it's hideous blouses that do not seem attractive to anyone. I wonder if they actually put effort in designing these clothes, or they don't because simply we (chubbies) can't really be on the picky side. My mother always says when we're picking which colourful potato sack to buy, 'beggars can't be choosers' I wonder why we are beggars. Should we be beggars because people choose to not make clothes for us? In the too unbelievably obvious truth, most women are not what the ads and runways are and certainly they don't fit in the clothings. I know, people come in all different shapes and sizes, but they seem to stop at size 16 in most countries or at least Malaysia. It's really saddening at times when especially during when my dad is in a spending mood and we're at an outlet and I can't fit into any of the clothes because they don't make them in my size. Really. You don't know how sad and severely dissapointing it is. It hurts you and it crushes you. Well, enough of that. There's always making an effort, I'm starting now, (sort of) I am to play squash, every other day of the week, on the day that I do not, I shall run. Yes. Excellent plan. And my diet, I'll just try to eat in moderation I suppose and while I do that I shall exercise my mental strength to tune out my mother and all her 'comments' she has got to know limits, I know in Islam it's really bad to ignore your mother but still what she says hurts my feelings. Why should I sit and listen to something hurtful from my mother. Not that she's been good at sugar coating; she's never done it, she's has hardly said something nice about me or on something that I've done, for me. Like my acting (in school plays) she used to not give a damn at all, and hoped it was just a phase that I was going through. I've sort of given up on the idea of ever becoming an actor. Unless they offer roles for hijabed women and then maybe we can talk. I don't wear a hijab but I intend to. Quite soon. I've just been quite wishy washy about it. But anyways, I'm fat and I have no new clothes for a school that doesn't require uniforms. (Isn't there a word for it? Well, I don't know what it is. Do tell me, person/people who actually read(s) my blog xx.) we've bought material because I've given up on society and its making potato sacks for fat people. I'm quite happy, and I'm thinking of sewing my own clothes. It'll be good for me. I won't really be dissapointed because I'll be designing them! Of course with a few 'comments' from my mother and we'll be done. It's really unfair sometimes and I have this dream of opening or starting a fashion line for all shapes and sizes or you could custom make your garment so it fits perfectly. Brilliant, right? I know. Well, I'll need to learn how to sew now. Which I am getting keener and keener on doing. Wish me luck on my endeavours and A levels and socialising (oh good god socialising...) and making new friends and surviving stares and glances of me in potato sacks. I love you all xx (Kainene Safra! My only follower) and all of you who glance by my blog. You're much appreciated :) x bye bye now!

Its 1D and fish and chips over croissants and la tour Eiffel

So, judging by the title its regarding my UK-France conflict. More of a career and perspective conflict. I love the UK and all it produces. I grew up listening to my parents (mainly my mum and her side of the family going on on how they studied and lived there once) (Okay, I asked about it too). Anyway it was the story I grew up hearing and the experiences I wanted to experience too. Living there would be a dream come true and it would help me achieve about 37 or so dreams. Isn't that wonderful? To be honest, I blog often from my phone and I had actually completed a wonderful entry. As soon as I clicked 'Done' it assumed 'DELETE EVERY SINGLE ****ING THING SHE EVER WROTE CRAZY ASS BROAD BE RAMBLING ALL DAY ERRDAY' Vivid, not necessarily true, but I think I've earned my right to accuse it of whatever intentions I feel it has. Its the THIRD time it's happened! ANNOYING. And so terribly frustrating! Ugh anyway, the UK-France conflict has been going on in my head for about a week or two. I've been forced to look at the reasons behind the decisions I've made. I decided against the UK because it was really expensive (our currencies kind of suck) and I would have to wait two years before leaving, because my dear parents can't afford to send me straight away after my GCE's; it would be too expensive. I don't blame them at all, nothing of the sort. Initially and quite frankly throughout my whole 'France La Paris Ooh La La' phase, the basis of my decision was really because France's public tertiary education was legions cheaper than the UK's. I thought, it would be a massive burden off my parents backs. Poor dad and the challenges he gets and my mum really, and honestly tries to help in her own frivolous way. I put the rest of the issues aside and locked away at the back of my mind. An obvious and logical choice for a degree was Economics, solely because my mother was against journalism, history, psychology and law in France. I couldn't enrol in the sciences, mathematics, engineering, arts, politics, nor architecture. I hadn't the qualifications-- nor the interest in doodling buildings and model engines or whatever is it engineers do. They are not very respected on 9gag. But since when was respect earned on 9gag substantial? To a certain small extent, yes. Perhaps; but whatever really. So, we narrowed down (she did it on her own, I was only slugging and and taking my trip around Paris's university courses and what I liked and tried to incorporate my dream of working with celebrities-- didn't work out so well). Eventually, I came to it and I discovered after miles of talking about it endlessly, and imagining myself saying 'Oh, yes. I study Economics in Paris' said future me while flinging my hair (or beret if we're just insulting them) with a hoity toity Parisian accent, acquired of course through my intensive learning on the go while living in Paris. Saying it was easy, doing it, LIKING IT, was oh so difficult! I found out quite early on, that I never really liked economics. It was depressing, boring, analytical to the point of falling asleep wishing you were analysing poems by Charlotte Mew instead. Believe me, that was the least dramatic. The most involved a shovel and freshly dug hole. Well, you obviously know where this will ultimately lead. Yes, the books do in fact end up in the hole. I'm environmental. Along with the bodies of economic minds and some people I might hate in the future. It will be a very big hole indeed. No, no. Don't call the cops. This isn't what you think it is. It's exactly what your paranoid self is conspiring at the back of your mind. BOO! Anyways, so I looked at my other option. England. Aha. Not so fast with your Union Jack backpacks ughhh ghastly trend by Malaysians.Just because it looks tattered or if you prefer it 'vintage and cool' its immediately acceptable to plaster it on almost every accessory and garment? Pencil boxes,Bags,Bottles, T-shirts, laptop sheaths, phone, iPad and whatever electronic cover. And they happen to be somewhat pricy for a canvas bag with a flag of a foreign country on it. I never saw the point of it... It's literally wearing a flag on your back like a freedom fighter. Haha. Oh well, the trend follower wants what society has stated it should want. Carrying on, to go to university there, (England) I would have to study here for my first two years, and finish off my last year in one out of seven universities. I've really narrowed it down to reading. Nearest to London and the met film school. Wish me luck with freakonomics. One of my old friends coined it. Hahaha. I kinda miss him. Bye bye all x

The Wilting Petals of my Affection

I wished for a less strong admiration for him every second in his company. He was so capable of it, everything he did was so effortless. His immense charm and what they could manage, and with a pretty, empty compliment, accompanied with a touch of sharp wit, it was beyond control, and I fell, deep and hard. Bright, deep red petals, in the colour of his love began to surface. So fragile looking and delicate, they were. They weighed me down, as each of them bloomed, each brighter and sweeter than the one before. They weighed me down, as I sunk into dark waters, I no longer fought nor questioned, I unchained myself from the world, and I was in deep, and retrieval was beyond impossible. The vines that grew around my desiccated heart tightened, the deep red petals enveloping my draught-stricken heart. It was breathing again, and surely, streams of cool spring water trickled down my heart. It all lasted but a lavish moment or so. Moisture left my heart, surely when he left suddenly for fresh terrain. Breath escaped me, moments shy of my resurfacing. I had fallen into a trap, struggling to surface for air, I clawed, because I had them, striking anything coming in my way because I could easily do so, within a heartbeat. A monster resurfaced, I was not myself, the world around me darkened, the bright red petals fell off, leaving my heart faulty and fairly breathing. Caught in between what was and what has become, my walls crumbled under the weight of a tragic falling out of love. Grief stricken and at my wits end for a vague sign of an answer, what was left of me, clamoured to a way out. Not all of me had wanted to leave, my mind separated, the one who is aware and striving for freedom and the one who is aware and is hoping blindly. Leaving as a part of yourself was bloody and gory struggle to freedom, won with cold shoulders and stares, the forced breaking of a dying affection, building walls stronger than before, strong enough for him to never come back. Most of all, the fables of a tragically destined meeting. A little after, one starts to regain a replacement for the lost part of the mind. A return of the mind, would be challenging, it has been etched as a part of the past. For the dire and blind hope to ever be unraveled again to create its effects and dazzle the dazzled and crush the crushed once more. The fresh cleanse, has rid of the dying clinging red petals, that have been well out of nourishment. Yellow buds, begin to appear on the lakes surface. The same ones, sprout on the intertwining vines, feeding off sadness from the heart. I think, 'Is this what I have been missing? If yes, then happiness is a most wonderful experience'. Frequent brushes with him have created a flutter of the wilting red petals. A warmth creeps over them, revitalising them for a moment, and the surely when he was out of mind, they continued valiantly to carry on without their source of life. The yellow buds soon begin to bloom and bring life. The red petals fell off slowly, given the duration of the wilting, I wondered how long it had taken. It was still, in fact going on. How much had I had? How much did I cherish each petal? How deep had I sunk to? The very recollection of him, gave the deep red petals a resurgence and I caught my breath, like I once did for the very first time. The deep red petals, whom had once bloomed, bright and beautiful for him, had started to resurface overpowering the tiny yellow buds. The lost part of my mind, soon took the form of the monster I once was. Only this time, she was fooled once more by him. It only made her more beautiful, more persuasive, the sane part of me, attempted to run for it. I was finding less room to run in, and when it was the time I realised I was running in the same place, avoiding the same thing; and most frighteningly, I came to the realisation I never left, the flowers were wilting, they never did absolutely die. His pull on me, never loosened completely, just enough for me to think so, and the illusion did its job. I was being seduced into coming back, the deep red petals, grew to full, bright and red flowers, flourishing in my misery. I felt the softening of my heart, an the return of a warmer substance occupying my heart. The monster never left the lake, she called, she held on to very piece and crumb she had collected and salvaged from the wreck and she returned with enough power, to convince me wholly and successfully. Her claws, grabbed a hold of my body, slowly, I sunk into the darkness, the faint smell of red rose flowers as I descended through dark waters, once more. This time, with less fight, less of everything I ever had. The flowers of his love was overpowering, the little yellow buds stood no chance. The strong walls I built, crumbled like pebbles, put up no fight, and I was left vulnerable. His arms held me once more, tighter in embrace and I felt the gash he left, not opening, but closing, scanning and disappearing, without any effort of mine. The contours of our bodies fit perfectly. Embraces were always heavenly, and what was left of me, the fighting part, fell down, and admitted defeat. I longed to feel complete, and for once, it felt like it, and I was at peace. Strangely, by the same man who disrupted my peace. It made sense that only he could restore perfectly the damage he caused. I felt whole, once more. Flowers sprouted, the vines and binds around my heart, held it like he held me in embrace, protectively and with longing. Petals, fell from the sky, the parts of my mind that was lost, reunited, and I stood sturdier. His lavish showers of affection, weakened me, my will grew weak, my love and admiration grew immensely, and once again, wishing for a less strong admiration for him, every second in his company. A mutual affection was to develop, and happily I would never end it and cause him my pain, for I would have to heal. For when the day would come, he should have to suffer without my aid and mending. I suppose I was saving it for a rainy day, where he will be left to deal with his own kind of darkness and monsters. But, with all my heart, I pray for that day to never come.

Let the skyfall...

Ok, it's a clichéd title, but really, skyfall was an awesome movie. I might contradict myself soon enough, because I've only started to appreciate Bond films since the very much anticipated release of Skyfall. My friend I've recently met and admired was raving about it, and I was influenced slightly. Ever since I saw skyfall today I've been researching and doing my homework on '007' Daniel Craig is quite the the older hottie. I never realized till my younger sister pointed this out and I called her 'gross' for finding an older man attractive. Well, again, I contradict myself about 20 minutes later after I remember the scene in the shower. Well-- um, yes. He's quite-- hot. So-- um, moving on... I find that I've only seen a number of them, (the films) not more than 3 or 5. Judging by the past Bonds, I find Daniel Craig, pierce brosnan and Sean Connery to be my favourites :) Daniel Craig. Unf. Wowsss. And Adele's song was so perfectly classy and it made me feel so evil and powerful. It's clearly an awesome song. And the the opening credits and the animations were superb, I was completely mesmerized. I have intended to read all the books and short stories on him by Ian Fleming and watch all the films. So, that'll take a while... I must admit I love Electra King, Denise Richards, Eva Green and Naomie Harris. Best Bond girls I've seen. This is all based on my limited Bond movie knowledge. I've always wonder if he'll ever meet his son... I SEE PERSONAL FANTASIES AND FANFICTION COMING. Or his daughter.... Oooh interesting... :) or the Young bond series! Mmmm yummy. Skandar keynes for the part! And Q was so cute :) I prefer John Cleese though. The other Bond girl was not too impressive, really wanted her to have a more prominent part or a more interesting face. She was, nonetheless, very gorgeous. I loved the movie, thought it was rated PG 13, I didn't think so... Bond and his explicit romantic pursuits. I can't wait for the day I finish watching the films and reading all the books. Must finish Harry Potter first...! And the Quran! Simultaneously would be an accomplishment ;) listening to skyfall on repeat, it's just so... Dramatic and so damn sexy! Haha. Really, to dramatic dreams then! Cheers all. xx :)

The Notes Of My Heartbeats And The Unsung Songs Of My Secret Passions

Who loves you pretty baby? Hooh. Couldn't get that out of my head. I'm learning a lot from Taylor Swift songs, I think I'll forever be in love with British singer songwriters, Miles Kane and Ed Sheeran. They just make me happier, in a nutshell really. If anyone's reading this, please go have a listen at some of their songs. They're really wonderful, if you don't like them-- well sorry then. I don't think I'm very musically talented. Inclined; yes. However not very much the talented musician. Sure, I did take beginner piano lessons, but I haven't played a piano in six months. It was grueling, at my age (fifteen and sixteen at the time) to start at GRADE 1. I have short, fat fingers and my ring finger was somehow protesting against me using it to tickle the ivory. <-- I don't know why I said 'tickle the ivory' oh wait. I read it in an Ezra Miller interview. Brilliant. He may look homeless and somewhat Robinson Crusoe-ish who was dragged through a thrift store. Who also has some pot sticking out of his pretty lovely lips. It's really all Hanna's fault. She showed me a video of him looking fine as hell and I was hooked. Katrina, Claudia found him UGLY I think. Oh well. Slowly, I grew infatuated and yes, I had a celebrity crush. And his birthday is the day after mine! Cool isn't it? Yeah, totally. The closest I've gotten anyway. Little did I know, he was actually not very well groomed offset and he often wore things he had bought at a goodwill store. Sure, look at the glass half full and say he's truly thoughtful, and moves to the beat of his own drum or bongo or whatever. I still think, despite all of that, he's actually a cool person. A little offbeat; yeah. Experimental; more than most actors. He's original and authentic and supery cool and I think that's awesome. Oh then, he announced he was queer. When I heard it, I wasn't really surprised, he certainly looked gay. I was sad (no, I don't hate nor discriminate, I just was disappointed that my far fetched idea of me and him were a no-go). Yes, I'm THAT kind or person. Harmless blogger/writer who writes her thoughts for no one in particular to read, but is always thankful to those who do. Unless you're the people mentioned in this blog. That would be just plain awkward but nonetheless, highly unlikely :) so back to my music/ self discovery I have discovered, I'm very much almost a most genre kind of person. Really, whatever that sounds good to the ears. Ironically, I'm not supposed to be using my earphones too much because I have 'abnormally small' ear canals and a bunch of nasty stuff about my ear, but long gross story short, I'll get infections and they're particularly nasty and quite painful. Right, after that somewhat irrelevant piece of information; I'd really like to say how I wish I was more musically inclined and talented so I could actually obtain some high points on worthy self achievement. Sure, everybody dreams of being rockstars. Most of them are pipe dreams, phases, sarcastic dreams, some are genuine. The one seemingly small, but in absolute realness, a very big and important question is 'which one is mine?' That I have on being in the film business. Not necessarily an actor, but someone directly involved in the process. It's always been a fascination of mine. Working on a tv show maybe. Meeting new people, gaining new friends. People who have the same thing on their mind and people who are working towards the same thing. A whole set of similar souls. Lovely thought indeed. But of course there are restrictions and boundaries that I must respect and not question out loud. Though those very questions are the ones who keep me awake at night and swim in my head when something relevant is seen, heard or even thought of. Sometimes, I get carried away with those thoughts, and for a moment, I feel quite invincible and honestly, happy and hopeful. These boundaries restrict me and automatically instantly and almost cruelly restrict me of my happiness and passion. Even though they are only thoughts, I have always thought I wanted to put action to them when the time is right. So many boundaries that restrict, and so much potential happiness exterminated before realized. And music, has helped me realize those dreams, whatever kind they be, for the duration of the song and as soon as it is over, I shall move and change my state of mind. Films, as therapeutic people claim they are, they only ignite dreams that cannot be realized. One day, possibly I might change my mind on this. Or should the thought be omitted permanently as it causes so much emotions to rise and boil uncontrollably till it spills, ruining my surroundings. Oh well, la vie sucks sometimes. A little tune and subtle message of a songstress/songster could lift my spirits any day when the situation calls for it :) goodnight all and may Liverpool trounce Chelsea to bit! Nice night/ morning/ noon wherever you are, reader. :) xx
P.s. you are much appreciated :)

Decisions should be made with a helping of ice cream and a stable mind

Right, as you can see from my title I find those things mandatory in a decision making process. Since I have neither a helping of ice cream nor an often stable mind, decision making is not advised. However the situatuon does not allow it. Nor does money. Previously, I have said the excitement of going to Paris has seriously boiled down to what it really is. It's the poorer girl's who wants a good education substitute for a UK education. I did not want to admit this at all. I even grew resentment and disregard for the UK education and universities. It all seemed exciting at first, but of course excitement dies down right before you officiate the decision and it reveals the truth. Excitement seemed so solid and good and true at the time but slowly, it begins to wither into a mist clouding all the cons of the decisions and the more hurtful unspoken reasons of the decisions. You know? The ones that you ignore purposely, the specks of dust you sweep under the rug. When excitement withers into despair and bad judgment and naive thinking and expectations. The specks of dust seem to have been enlarged and they seem all the more hulking and intimidating. Right now, I feel no tether to Paris, no strong desire to even go there. Let alone study and spend 3 years of my life. Looking at it idyllically and of course through rise coloured glasses, it seems alright and very 'Jolie et très parfait' but really, will it be though?i guess I'll have to trust myself and know that I will try to be happy wherever I am. And remember to pray, because it really, truly does gain me solace and peace of mind. I'm starting to open up about it slowly to people and it feels better to hear it resonate back and then I felt somehow reassure that I wasn't making good decisions. I now know, I really love the UK and France is my second choice. There will no equal substitute for the UK. Desolée France. I love you and all, but the UK is all kinds of wonderful. Hanna's tweet made me think about the US. Personally, I only intend to visit ever since Sandy hit, but whatever really. UK or France really. Now I feel my head and thoughts clearing up and the mist clouding the judgement and reason are beginning to wither and fade away. It's still there, but only gossamer. I suppose I might change my mind once again, I will not wish for it, but evidently it will happen and I hope to Allah I am ready and prepared well for it. Goodnight all.

The excitement is gone

So, Paris has been on my mind for quite some time. The prospects of me going there instead of the UK has been a happy and easy transition. Though the thought of never getting to experience London as a student is dawning on me, and its a lot more taxing than I expected. Like right now, I'm not even as excited as before, but I guess excitement usually boils down to the core essentials. Like responsibilities, and taxes and of course the long road to my decision on a course. Sometimes I just wish things could go as planned and expected. Now, how often does that happen? Almost never except in horrible stupid teen movies where everyones hair is unnaturally perfect though made look so natural, bad fake tans seem run of the mill. On Paris, my excitement and anticipation is gone and I'm just waiting for it to happen. Or a miracle to happen where I get to go to the Sarah Lawrence College or anywhere in the UK. Purposely to only meet Ed Sheeran and One Direction, and of course get a kick ass degree at a kick ass college. Naturally all these colleges breathe and suck money so its pretty much an impossible task for me to get in let alone afford. Getting in I don't have as much worries because I know I can and will work for it. Affording an American education at a private college is crazy. Even Americans find it expensive. And scholarships aren't easily obtained-- so where do I stand in getting a great education? The currency is also a twat, I don't blame my wonderful country, I only blame my parents for not meeting earlier in the UK. So, damn. Its an awkward situation. So here are my particulars. - Education-wise I'm basically a little above average and I'm not some bright luminous flame in a sea of candles, so a scholarship to a good university unfortunately isn't likely. - Money- wise, I'm not the wealthiest bitch around town and I cant buy my way in a school It's at that point where I deserve to go to college, because I have so much 'potential' but not enough pazazz or gumption to get in. Like even if I don't, its not a major deal. But if I do, people will be like 'Oh yeah, she's college material.' said most people while sipping on a drink, casually making a comment about my entering college. So, I'm an underrated underdog. Well thats just brilliant. Mind you, this is all in my head, but I tend to be right about these things. I'm naturally hard on myself when people compliment me. So, I guess I'm not and underrated underdog? Ugh well am or am not, I cant seem to care anymore, (that's a lie) and I wish to be noticed. (not a lie, neither a beacon of truth) But I assume, I will change my mind again.

During stormy weather

So its been raining quite frequently and it freaks me out a little. Im no geography whiz nor do I want to be, but I'm sure they have explanations. Well whatever. I'm not exactly a fan of storms neither do I function well when they're happening. Sure they're great for movie scenes and indie films, and dramatic overrated kisses. Ironically it's my blog title. Just bites you in the face doesn't it. When it happened a month before, I loved it, because it made me feel like I was in London or some European city. That felt great... For the first three days. Afterwards it just got depressing. Well its raining, so technically, the weather is depressing. For the past few days I've been waiting for a bag I ordered off ASOS and it hasn't arrived since and the official due date is today. I CANT WAIT. Really. Although again, the anxiousness has in fact died down to 'Where the f is my bag' and the occasional 'I cant wait for it'. On a lighter note, I just had a skype session with some friends and it made me feel a lot better. Also I've been feeling lost because I have recently finished all of my tv shows. Yes. Absolute horror. I know. I downloaded 'Awkward' and yes I'm having a ball. Inspired me to re open my blog. Installed it in my phone and all. *signs of a great commitment*. Yesterday I got One Directions new album online! *WHOOO* And I have to admit, they grew-- musically. I love them and all, but only some of their songs are great. Well, they are pop. And pop is greeeaaat and all but too much of it is just blegh. But some are just tear jerking like 'Little Things'. Its so because of only two reasons. 1. Written by Ed Sheeran 2. Its sung by One Direction. Alright, so i just ran out like a complete maniac because I thought it was the delivery truck containing my very special package from ASOS. Boohoo it wasn't. Now every honk seems like the delivery truck's. Great. Much love to readers, whom remain lovingly anonymous.

A new start

So, waiting for change or expecting it isn't going to do me any good right? Despite my constant paranoia which I have an on and off relationship with, I'm trying desperately to find new things to occupy my time with. Lets face it, I'm no loner and if left to own devices for too long, I could be quite hazardous to my mental state.