Saturday, 17 May 2008

Confession time!

But before that, let me tell you what was my reaction when I read Tieq's post.

HAHAHAHAHAHA! *rolling on floor while holding my stomach*

God. I am soo not a good friend. Laughing at your own friend when her heart broke into tiny little pieces.

I'm evil.


Ok. That's enough Aishah. Neway, I can totally understand why you fell in love (is it a love or a crush?) with a gay guy. Gay guys are soo hot. Well, mostly they are. And they are more understanding and caring and mature and, well you got the point (same goes to les). Except that they don't like girls. They like guys. What a waste. Of course there are also those 'au' gay guys. You know, the kind that err how do I put this, have more characteristics of a girl plus over doing it. Do you get what I'm trying to say here?

Btw, your story remind me of my story. I already told you but as I got nothing else to do I 'll type it up. I too, once, pretend to be a guy. And let me tell you, I am a good actress. Hahaha. I even told him that my name is Zaki (don't ask) , I am 18 and my SPM's result was more than excellent (hehehe). Of course, unlike you Tieq, I didn't fall in love or have a crush on him. I'm a bit hard to fall in love which is sometimes a good thing, and sometimes it's not. *sigh*

Neway, the reason I pretend to be a guy is because I want to know (actually it's my friend who wants to know) whether he has feeling towards my friend. So, I told him that I like Z (not real name) and I want to know who is he (I act as if I'm jealous la). He said, ask Z. I told him I already asked her and she told me to ask him. Before I go on, this conversation was made by sms and I was suppossed to be Z's cousin and the reason I didn't tell Z that I like her is because I am afraid to be rejected and don't know where to hide my face as I will be seeing her for the rest of my live (I'm her cousin. that explain the part 'seeing her for the rest of my live'). So, I asked the guy does he has feeling towards Z? He said, yeah. I asked him again, why don't you asked her to be your gf? He said he already had but her answer was a bit blurry ( which is true). I said to him maybe the way he asked is wrong and 'xde class'. And then he got angry at me. He used all CAPITAL WORDS which is kinda funny. As I was suppossed to be a guy, I got mad and used all sort of inappropriate words. But then, by the end of our conversation we both were cool. He even asked me to be his friend. At first I was like, err... dude, dudes don't do that. I mean his words were this 'Oh ye, name ko sape? Aku x tau pun name ko. I want to be your friend.' Creepy a bit isn't it. So, I told him my name is Zaki, I'm 18 and I got straight A's in my SPM. Right after he chatted with me, he asked Z to be his gf. He said he wants a solid answer. Me and Z looked at each other and said 'Zaki berkesan'. So that is my story. Until now he doesn't know that I'm actually a girl and I want to keep it that way. In real life, he doesn't really like me-Aishah. I also don't like him. So, it's cool.


Wow. It's actually pretty long. Oh well.

Wednesday, 14 May 2008

tieq's confession

It happened today... I can't tell you where.... But I fell for this one guy.. He was cool, funny, cute.... He has great music sense n nice to talk with... Before I knew it, I kinda fell for the guy... I know... Stupid... T-T And when we were chatting for hours, I told him the truth.. He said he knew... So I asked... "How?" "Well, I can detect these things.." he answered... "Oh"I said, pausing.. "So.." "Well, I have one thing I have to tell u..." he said lowering his voice. "Hmm... What?" I asked, holding on to a bit of hope.. "Well, I'm gay" he said... "That's how I knew."

That is why I am now slitting my wrists....

Ok, kidding...

I don't slit wrists for guys...

I juz feel fuckin sad n fuckin stupid for not realizing it!!!! Baka tieq!!!!! Why am I cursed to fall for such a man or gay... Whatever...

So, the moral of the story.....

Nothin... I'm SAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fell in love with a gay guy,

p.s: if u were wondering what was the truth i told him... I told him I was a girl... yeah... coz I acted as if I was a guy on some stupid site... So basically, don't act as a guy is the morale of d story... ^^ (he fell for me when I was a guy)


Tuesday, 13 May 2008

the EsSay: What the Modern Woman Wants By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen

The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway,
clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind. She was not used to such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, 'Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma.'
Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old woman could barely understand. 'Finance' 'Liquidation' 'Assets' 'Investments'...

Her voice was crisp and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent. The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval. 'I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!' Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation. 'I can't DEAL with this anymore!' she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward the backseat. The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.

'Sorry, Ma,' she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin. 'I have a big client in America. There have been a lot of problems.' The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important. Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking. Her mother's wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look. The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward silence.'Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.' Elaine. The old woman cringed. I didn't name her Elaine. She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for 'networking', Chinese ones being easily forgotten.

'Oh no, I can't see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.' Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed that her mother's silence meant she did not comprehend.
'Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!' The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence. The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple's roof. The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall. Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother's side. 'Ma, I'll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,' she said, not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.

The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods. Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook. Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man. Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.

What you see is not true - she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old mother. It is my fault. The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, with her head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes. She bowed once more. The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years. When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son. Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless
baby who could not work or carry the family name. Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter would never have to depend on a man.

She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become. A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to.. A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen. She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood. She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to one who openly defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned. She wanted her mother to be 'modern', a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.. Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that. The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly hadburied the girl's roots and now she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors byonly a string of origami banknotes.

Her daughter had forgotten her mother's values. Her wants were so ephemeral; that of a modern woman. Power, Wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness. The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When her daughter left the earth everything she had would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she would be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions.
The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter; now she had only one want: That her daughter be happy. She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there - down.
The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of beehoon in front of the altar. Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods. How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid? But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life. Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty soulless shell at the altar.

The old lady watched her joss stick. The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing. Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot find it. Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter's face. An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness.
They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway, this time not as fast as she had done before. 'Ma,' Bee Choo finally said. 'I don't know how to put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay seven million for it.

We decided we'd prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect one in Orchard Road . Once we move in to our apartment we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves...' The old woman nodded knowingly. Bee Choo swallowed hard. 'We'd get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out - but once the maid is gone, there won't be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that, the apartment is rather small. There won't be space. We thought about it for a long time, and
we decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home. There's one near Hougang - it's a Christian home, a very nice one.' The old woman did not raise an eyebrow.

'I've been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It's beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you'd be happier there.' 'You'd be happier there, really.' Her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself. This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep intothe leather seat, letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the white seat.
'Ma?' her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. 'Is everything okay?'
What had to be done, had to be done. 'Yes,' she said firmly, louder than she intended, 'if it will make you happy,' she added more quietly.
'It's for you, Ma! You'll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack your things.' Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda. I knew everything would be fine.' Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated.

Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had everything a modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career, Love,Power and now, Freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down... Yes, she was free. Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear. 'Stocks
10% increase!' Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her... And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in the backseat became invisible, and she did not see the tears.


So sad.... T-T

My hubby down here to console me though... ^^


Elow guyz! ^^ Read this plz..

A 15-YEAR-OLD Singaporean, competing against 16- to 18-year-olds, has won
the top prize in a writing contest that drew 5,300 entries from 52 countries.
In the annual Commonwealth Essay Competition, Amanda Chong of Raffles Girls' School (Secondary)
chose to compete in the older category and won with a piece on the restlessness of modern life.

Her short story, titled What The Modern Woman Wants, focused on the conflict in values between
an old lady and her independent-minded daughter.
'Through my story, I attempted to convey the unique East-versus-West struggles and
generation gaps that I felt were characteristic of young people in my country,' said Amanda,
who likes drama, history and literature and wants to become a lawyer and a politician.
Chief examiner Charles Kemp called her piece a 'powerfully moving and ironical critique of modern
restlessness and its potentially cruel consequences'. The writing is fluent and assured, with excellent
use of dialogue. Amanda gets (S$1,590). A Singaporean last won the top prize in 2000, said Britain 's
Royal Commonwealth Society, which has been organising the competition since 1883. Singaporeans
also came in second in the 14- to 15-year-old category, and fourth in the under-12s. Other winners
included students from Australia, Canada and South Africa .


Read the essay on the next post pls... ^^



Monday, 12 May 2008

Speed Racer Trailer

It looks kinda cheesy and a bit childish. And it reminds me of hot wheels race car for some unfathomable reasons. Maybe it's because of its graphic. Neway, I was wrong about Rain being the main character. He is actually this minor character. But hey, he's still in it.