Tuesday, August 31, 2010


Just back in Casa Subang! Apprently overdosed on anime songs. huhu.

okay, here's the result of my mini poll on Facebook.

Kamilah Kamil okay..just a survey for fun..am I a KL-ite or a Kelantanese? I am born and raised in KL for 18 years of my life, yet I do not have great bearings in KL. My dad's a Kelantanese, and after five years in Faris (a boarding school in Kelantan), I am able to speak the Kelantanese dialect quite well. I still speak it frequent...ly, and yes, most my statuses are in the Kelantanese dialect. So, what's the verdict?

Ishaq Hakim You're a messed up Malaysian, in a good way though :)

Syuhadah Muhamad kelate~~~
ALi AshRaf kelate celup
Abdulmajid Muhamad jadi ore sie
Wolf Volkmar an amalgamation of urban & kampung entity
Mohd Nor Iqbal ‎1 Q?

Mkn budu x?

Stands 50% of ur klntnese traits.

...Maybe hahahaha
Kamilah Kamil i eat budu only in nasi kerabu. I don't eat budu with ulam because I don't eat ulam..huhu..
Mohd Nor Iqbal Anda merupakan rakyat kelantan yg memiliki kewarganegaraan yg sah.

Kamilah Kamil default language: klate
Wolf Volkmar default setting: mek KL (klate + kualo lupo)
//some parts have been ommitted due to irrelevence..haha, this is just for fun...

a house is not a home

I'm going back to Casa Subang. Obviously, I can call my unit a house, but it is not a home. I had always wished I had more money to spare on groceries, and more time to do home-cooking. It doesn't even have a proper stove! The hotplate does'nt work. Most of us resort to cooking in a rice-cooker, well, I'm not going to do that to my rice-cooker. Ain't gonna spoil it. Yes, again, I am plagued with the need for money. Money is the key to good education, to good books, to good FOOD, to comfortable homes, and other luxurious excesses, yet it corrupts. Yes, there's that vision of a big mansion versus a moderate homey home, yet I see my more 'fortunate' friends and the food they get to enjoy..omg, a minimum of 50 bucks per plate, and such good food it is...ahh...if only I could savour it as well..this is what people call the finer things in life..I can live without a great wardrobe, although I do sometimes satisfy (and at times agitates) my longing for pretty clothes by window shopping, running my hand through the fabric, just get a 'feel' for it, be in a temporary fantasy..but of course, if on impulse I suddenly buy it, later on, I know I'll be in a state of regret..oh..if I had all the money and time in the world, the things I'd do..now, that's just wishful thinking..not to say that it's not impossible, but I must refrain myself from these luxurious excesses..not to say that I don't know how to have fun or indulge myself, but are'nt there more simpler pleasures in life? why go spend things at a high cost for a temporary high? It's like a drug, and you find yourself needing to spend money again, and again, and again, just to keep you happy..no, I never had any playstation consoles, I never felt a need for it, but once in a while, there's that little voice that whispers, "you're missing out on the fun". As if not having a playstation means that I don't have a chioldhood. I try and shut that evil voice out. I coax myself by saying that other people have it a lot worse than I do. and I don't need a playstation to make me enjoy my childhood. At times, I feel bad for scolding my little siblings for wanting toys (free toys that come with kiddy meals), well, they're kids, they want stuff, they want toys, even I still play with toys up to Standard 4? 5? 6? then, the voice speaks up again.."let them enjoy being kids, give 'em what they want." wouldn't it make them spoiled, regardless if we have the cash to spend on or not, if we give in to their whims everytime? And if we take away that privilege, but yet everybody else the kids' age is enjoying that privilege, how would the kid feel? I don't think kids understand financial circumstances yet at that age, but what would you do if you were in no favorable financial position to provide for that kid's whims. Yes, you feel sorry for the kid, but sometimes, you just gotta teach them, what you want is not what you get. And someone argues, they'll learn that eventually. Why must they learn that now? I don't know what to say, perhaps the different times we get exposure to the ugly truths of life affects our outlook on life I guess, and I can't really say how it has affected me. I know, in my younger days, I don't dare spend a lot, but somewhere in my teenage years, I started splurging on food and clothes. Food, to me, is still acceptable, but clothes..I know, if I don't buy them, I'd have a drabby wardrobe, but it makes me feel guilty. Even now, my wardrobe isn't all that fantastic, but at least, I've stopped buying clothes. I have to refrain myself. Now most of my cash goes to food and transport, occasionally, movies. On one hand, I sometimes would like that mansion life, being able to provide everything for everyone, seeing those smiles on your loved ones' faces, being able to enjoy things together, yet, the simple life draws me as well. A quite, countryside life, oblivious to the troubles of the world, completely in my own world with my family. Whatever it is, Canada comes first. Get the degree, and the job comes afterwards. ahhh...back to reality....Casa Subang....

Monday, August 30, 2010

the raya mood is setting in

I don't know why I'm not raving about baju raya or kasut raya this year, but rather, lately, all those memories of celebrating raya in a kampung is coming back to me. I remembered when I was a little kid, I loved to chase all these creatures:

and when I admitted this to my friends, they hardly believe me. I'm serious. This was what I used to do whenever my family and I go back to Kelantan during school holidays, of course, that was a long time ago. I now have my Raya in KL. Too many FUNNY childhood moments in Kelantan. I'll explain more when the mood strikes me. This essay is still not done. T_T

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Everything Is Illuminated

Isn't that picture pretty? Well, just some random picture I took from the net. Well, actually after the Book Thief, I felt like I didn't want to read anymore stories about Hitler and the Holocaust because it was too depressing, yet, throughout the times, people are still haunted by it, many books have been written about it. Such profound is the effect of the Holocaust to the world we live in today. Yeah, I do think it is one of the most inhumane thing that has ever been done, and I acknowledge the damage it did to the world, but to read about it? That's very depressing. Even for my literature analysis essay, I chose not to write about the Holocaust, despite the wider selections of titles that has the Holocaust as its theme. Quite a number of interesting titles, if I had the time, I would have read them, since it is on the list of recommended literature analysis titles, then most must have been quite good. I loved The Time Machine, and perhaps, I might write about the underlying issue of capitalism. To me, I'm sorry if it sounds blasphemous to make this comparison, but not to say that I actually am equating the fictional character as such, but the Time Traveler's time travelling is a tad bit reminiscient of Prophet Muhammad's (p.b.u.h.) ascend to the heavens. He got a 'preview' the punishments that await sinners, and the rewards that await the do-gooders? The Time Traveler in this sense is conveying a message to his fellow men of the fate of mankind's future if they carried on with their current system. In a way, it is a criticism of the political governance in Britain at that time. Yeah, a background search shows that Wells has been educated in Marxism, which shows his biased view on how the socio-political system must change so that we don't end up like the Elois and the Morlocks. There are lots of interesting scientific concepts as well, like Einstein's Relativity Theory and Entropy, how everything would soon die out. Though interesting it may be, I don't think I will write on that. Perhaps, I'd score better with how the book's message made an impact on the readers.
Anyway, Taylor's library sure has lots of interesting books. Even now I have an ever-growing wishlist of books. Remember me wanting Life of Pi? I'll be studying it for English4U next year, so, due to the really tight budget, I'll have to wait to get it.
And back to the topic of Communism and Holocaust, the picture is from the film Everything Is Illuminated, the title is interesting, and the cover's nice, and it has good critical acclaim, as I read the synopsis, I can't help but go, "uhh..another Holocaust-themed story", but I feel like reading it. Some time soon.....later..

(Lord of the Flies second draft awaiting =.=" ..two lab reports pending, Mr. Andrew still has my lab notebook).

oh, and self reminder: this Wednesday, please text Teacher Norma and Teacher Rozi so that they'd pass my graduation picture to my brother when he comes back for Raya. The international term is 'Eid', by the way.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

hee....videos lagihh

laila's gymnastic 2008

Rahman formation KOT 2009 (the one I complained about, hahahha)

yang Lord of the Flies trailer tu I will post after I present it this coming Wednesday ya..

hahhaa, Chem, Lord of the Flies and Advanced Functions still waiting for me..chow..

of Flies and Machines

After many many headache-inducing affairs of the Lord of the Flies trailer production for English3U, I sort of got it done, I posted it on youtube, I'll put it on my blog once we presented it to the class first.

Anyway, here are a few shots of the filming:

the "shoreline"

the first assembly. see how 'manly' the manner I'm sitting in? hahahha. I'm supposed to be Jack.


ouuuyeahhh..Golding was right about the face-paint effect. I hardly felt any shame for what I was doing in public. Savage man.

dancing around a "fire". I'm dancing with a mop stick.

"killing" simon

Ralph and Jack face-off..those bars were from my apartment clothes stand thingy.

It took me one night and a whole day to get the editing done. I have never used the moviemaker at all in my life, the first time I editted it, the file disappeared. but alhamdulillah, it's sort of done. The guy who was supposed to edit it suddenly ditched us.

anyway, I finished reading The Time Machine, my ISU (independent study unit) novel for English. It's not that bad, since it's quite short, I'm currently compiling notes from internet sources.

There are lots of new words. I should have written them down in my journal, oh well, I'd do that in my second reading. At least i have an idea what The Time Machine is about, but I have yet to choose the aspect to focus on. Theme? Character? but definitely not literary devices.

The read was interesting, very fast-paced. Lots of scientific theories at play and socio-political ideologies. Worth a read.

I haven't done my Advanced Functions and the two essays yet. argh!

anyway, here's part two and three of biology cow-heart dissection:

Friday, August 27, 2010

homework over the weekend

1. advanced functions (God, so much work!)

2. English: Lord of the Flies second draft (add citations-and I didn't bring my friggin' file back home) and ISU novel read-up

3. Chemistry lab report. When I get back to Casa, I have to rpint the summary thingy.

4. EAP compare and cotrast essay on two American Idol winners' career.

5. Compter Science notes on BB7 read-up.

so NOT an enjoyable holiday. Yeah sleeping in was bliss, but in the end, I feel wasted. I needed that, but still. This is what CPU does to you. Had I finished everything, I'd certainly enjoy it more, in fact ten-fold compared to my SPM break, and I surely wouldn't complain of being bored. That's what I love about CPU, but in this condition now..hurhh..sabar jelah..

my 300th post and college essay

A Question of Humanity: A Short Story On The Social Evil of Baby-Dumping.

The sight was a gruesome one. It will forever be imprinted on my mind. The stench of decay filled my nostrils. Even in solitude I could sometimes still smell faint traces of it. The image will always come back to haunt me for the years to come. There, sprawled on the grass in open space, with the face flat on the ground like a broken doll, was a rotting corpse of a new born baby. Flies buzzed around above where the body lay. Ants seemed to claim the body for their own.

It was heart-breaking. There was no proper burial; it was as if the baby was just chucked out like garbage on the side of the streets, thrown away without any feelings of love, or compassion, let alone respect or sense of humanity. Even garbage was disposed of in a more ‘dignified’ manner- properly wrapped in a garbage bag. I noticed that one of the arms was missing. The joint where the arm was supposed to be was just a hole. The flesh around the opening was jagged and in pieces. It was probably bitten off by an animal. Was this what human life has been reduced to? Garbage? Food for scavenging animals?

Blood was clotting, and stained the grass where the body lay black. Who could have done such a thing? It was a scary thought that this is the kind of society that we’re living in now: heartless and unappreciative of human life. I looked at the body for a long time. As I decided to make my move, my footsteps grew heavy. A dark shadow of dread hung over me and I’d felt like I carried a mountain on my back. My past deeds came back to me; a recollection I had pretended to be non-existent. This story of mine, I’d wished that it was nothing more than just waking up from a bad nightmare.

I guess it was a typical, almost clich├ęd story. After all, that’s what you commonly see in the media today: teenage pregnancy, baby-dumping, and all those horrific manifestations of a tarnished humanity. What started off as an easy solution, a way out for desperate teens, turned out to be the turning point that leaves us questioning ourselves how inhumane has humanity become.

Being young, I thought that I’d own the world. Hedonism is the new culture. The media is our bible. It dictates our principles. It tells us what’s in and what’s not. It is indeed a force to be reckoned with as it has the power to either build up or tear down a society, depending on the intention of whoever is controlling it. All the upbringing that I received from my parents seemed to fade away against the media influence. Music, friends, parties, booze, sex, I had it all. The media dictated that I must do things my parents told me not to do. I should already know the consequences of my actions, but I was overruled by curiosity and rebellion. I was blinded by the desire to be part of the so-called ‘in thing’; bewitched by young love and unguaranteed promises of forever. Once I embraced it, there was no way of getting out of it. I was completely intoxicated by it, until one day, God decided to give me a wake up call.

I thought everything was reversible, that if you messed up the first time around, there will always be a second chance. I never took things seriously, especially what my parents told me not to do, because I’d never thought that it’d actually happen. It shouldn’t have happened. I was a fool to give everything up for a boy who I was not certain of having a future with. Sometimes, when you’re just too obsessed with a person that you are plagued by insecurities of him leaving you if you don’t give him something more, and also due to the fact that everybody’s doing ‘it’ and you’re not, right and wrong doesn’t matter anymore, you just do ‘it’. All that’s ever in your head at that time is, “What’s it like? Is it fun?”

I didn’t even know that I was pregnant until it was three months into the pregnancy, when the bulge was getting obvious. That’s when panic struck me. I had to hide this from everyone’s knowledge, especially my parents and teachers. When I told The Boy about what happened, he wasn’t willing to be responsible for it. He even left me there, and treated me like we’d never even met. Before this, he had been swaggering in the hallways that he’d done ‘it’ with me, and suddenly when this happened, he didn’t want to claim the child his and be responsible for it? Now, who do I turn to?

Dejected and in despair, I grew more uneasy with having to keep this secret that became more obvious day by day. I had undergone a rollercoaster change in physique and emotions. It was too much for me to cope. One day, I just couldn’t hide it anymore, and my whole world seemed to fall apart.

“Who are you? I don’t know who you are anymore! Get out of this house! You are not my daughter!”

With those words from my father, I was disowned, left to fend for myself on the streets. What reason did he have to keep me? I was a disgrace to the family. I will wear this sin forever, wherever I go, and people will talk. I broke down. Suddenly suicide seemed like an appealing option, rather than to have to live in this shame and suffering.

I thought about abortion. Yes, it was a good idea. If what I had in me was gone, everything will go back to normal, like nothing ever happened. Of course, the doctors refused to carry out the procedure, it was illegal. I was at a loss for ideas. I needed a way out-fast.

Surviving on my own wasn’t easy. I had slept in odd places like a homeless person. All of a sudden, I had gone from a carefree, joyful life to a life full of loneliness, misery and hardship. I’d sneak in a few times into my own house to get clothes. If I were lucky, I’d sleep in my own bed for a few hours, and by dawn, I’d already slip away. All my friends suddenly turned against me. They were disgusted by what I did and were as ashamed as my parents would have been if they had kept me. I felt useless and unloved. I hated myself and what I did. I hated was what in me. I regarded it with vehemence. It was a mistake, and it ruined my life. I kept wishing that it would all go away. Up to this point, I had lost all love in my life. What I had created was not out of love, and therefore, does it have value?

Little did I know, I was turning into a monster. The idea I had was pure evil. In fact, I had not even thought about it that way until now. I’d simply get rid of it. Easy come, easy go. Once it’s gone, everything will be fine, like nothing ever happened. I can get my life back.

On the day I came into labour, the sound of agonized screams reverberating against the walls amplified the pain that I was going through. Other than the sound of the screams, there was a silence so deafening that it seemed to crush me with the realization that I was going through it alone. I felt like I had died and had gone to hell. There was blood, torn flesh, pain, hate, life, and death. I had given life, but my heart was already dead.

The baby girl was born alive. Somewhere in the world, a mother would have been happy celebrating her firstborn’s birth with her loving husband, friends and family. In this little corner of the world, I was alone and I was far from celebrating the birth. Instead, it brought more questions. How could I possibly sustain another life if I can’t even sustain my own? More than anything, I’d had wanted to get rid of it. This is nothing more than a consequence of my stupid mistake. What do you do if you made a mistake on your answer sheet? You erase it with an eraser, right? Nobody even knew you made that mistake in the first place because in the end you did choose the right answer and make the grade. That was what I had to do, I decided.

I held the baby against my chest briefly. It was warm. I felt the warmth slip away as I carefully wrapped the baby in cloth and left her on the steps of a nearby mosque. Someone’s going to find her eventually. I didn’t care to name her, let alone stop to think whether the baby would die of hunger or cold if no one had found her in time, or worse, being carried off by an animal. I didn’t think of all of that. All that I ever was at that moment was a happy girl. I’d got it off my back. The baby’s cries still rung in my ears, but I walked away, pretending that I was deaf.

I had thought that everything was over, but I was wrong. I was still out on the streets. I still didn’t get my life back. People still talked. It was worse because of my act of abandoning the child. It was too inhumane, but then again, even if I did keep her, what were her chances of survival? I had no means of getting any help anyway. Even so, if she did survive, she’d spend the rest of her life being brought up with the notion that she was a ‘mistake’ that shouldn’t have happened. Who could live like that? I was unwanted, the baby was unwanted and I was furious. Life was unfair.

Well, now, at this very moment, all the resentment that I had on people around me, and the baby, was turned inward on me when I saw the ugliness of the consequences of my action. The remorse did not hit me until today. I had seen the evil that I had done. The image of rotting flesh and mangled body will remain fresh in my mind until the end of time. My baby could have ended up like that. It was unthinkable. I broke down there and then as I walked away. The heavy feeling in my heart wouldn’t go away. I don’t know if it ever would. What had I done?

There was no way to turn back time and undo what I had done. The sin will always be with me for eternity, a social evil that threatens to destroy the very essence that makes us all human.

Word Count: 1823

Monday, August 23, 2010

Dear Mr. Wise,

I am surprised despite the fact that my handwriting sucks and my work sloppy, you said that I'd worked hard. I really appreciate it. The reasons why I worked hard, although everybody else would say that English3U is not even counted in our final grades, well, for one thing, I actually feal greatly appreciated for a job well done. That's a good enough motivation to keep me going, aside from the fact that I do want to outdo others(which I have yet to achieve), and yeah, I see it as a practice run for English4U. I know you work hard to mark our grades, as well on you lesson plans, and it makes it a lot worth to work hard in your class. Yes, I complain while doing it, but I still do it. The fact that you're extending my dateline because of my 'hard work', makes me feel a tad bit guilty. I know I can't possibly do it tomorrow, I have Chemistry, but the fact that you're granting me that extra time, I feel overwhelmingly grateful, and guilty. I am so scared of underperforming for this second Unit. Yeah, I know I'm at 88, but I'd like to do better. Anyway, I appreciate your comments a lot. Thank you.


Sunday, August 22, 2010

I love you


cow heart dissection

18th birthday celebration.

coming up cow heart dissection part 2 and 3, laila's gymnastic and rahman formation.

Monday, August 16, 2010

note to God..(saja main tag ni lagi)


1. Put your iTunes/Napster/Zune Player/WinAmp/mp3/mp4/ipod/windows media player/mixpod/etc on shuffle.

2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.


4. Tag 10 or more friends who might enjoy doing this.


bencinta, Faizal Tahir


just dance, Lady Gaga


we are the world, Micheal Jackson


wrong impression, Natalie Imbruglia
(oh, bahaya)


gee, Girls Generation


I don’t wanna miss a thing, Aerosmith


dan, Sheila On 7


speechless, Micheal Jackson

WHAT IS 2+2?

Perfectly lonely, John Mayor


di atas normal, Peterpan


sampai menutup mata, Acha Septriasa


haven’t met you yet, Micheal Buble


I kissed a girl, Katy Perry


you make me feel like dancing, Leo Sayer


you’re not sorry, Taylor Swift


another day in paradise, Phil Collins


don’t leave home, Dido


teruskanlah, Agnes Monica


takes one to know one, Katy Perry


colors of the wind, Vanessa Williams


makhluk tuhan paling seksi, Mulan Jameela
(Oh My God)


white flag, Dido


heart of sword, Samurai X Closing Theme Song


don’t know why, Norah Jones


don’t say you love me, The Corrs


best friend, Kiroro


rahasia perempuan, Ari Lasso


I’ve got all this ringing in my head and none on my fingers, Fall Out Boy


lucky, Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait


note to God, Charice
and me debating video. Just uploaded it on youtube just in case I lose it, it's the last surviving one. too bad it's not the 'tarian bangau' one. haha

Monday, August 09, 2010

Friday, August 06, 2010


Sue me if I seem ungrateful.

I don't know if what I write is something sensitive or not, but it's been in my head for quite a while now. oh well, part and parcel of adjusting here.

When I was little, I went to a mixed-race kindergarten. Well, all the races are of equal ratio, and the teachers are all of different races. I was pretty okay. I started off speaking in malay, but since we were in a mixed community and even some of the teachers were not from Malaysia, English was the prime medium.

Then, in primary school, I still had teachers ofmany races, but I was in an all-malay batch. I was treated like a freak of course because I spoke in English. yeah, I was quite bothered by it, but it never changed me a bit. I still went on with my English speaking, and I wrote stories, all of which never involved local characters. At that time, I admit. I HATED being a Malay. If I had it my way, I wouldn't be one. I had always dreamed of being one of my characters, a foreigner, since I thought that I spoke English quite well back then, yeah, at the least it was better than it is now. It was almost my first language.

Then, off to Faris Petra. In Faris Petra, yes, I'm still a freak because I speak in English, and in a way, some of them actually feel intimidated by me. Again  an all-malay batch. I appear unapproachable again. This is where my English sorts of goes all over the place. Thanks to the upbringing there, I am kind of ultra-malay now. However, I still do sometimes don't like certain typical malay traits and mentality,and I still detest the fact that sometimes I do have those typical malay traits and it makes me feel that I'm not good enough for myself, but I did identify myself as a malay. Up till now, I still can't answer Cikgu mad's brainstorming question, "are you proud of being a malay?"

Now I'm in Taylor's a majority non-malay community. I looked forward to it since I've been in an all-malay community all this while. I'm like so sick and tired of the jaga tepi kain orang thing. But now here, unless I perk up and become a social butterfly, I will seem unapproachable. People see an image of a sopan santun malay girl who doesnt make noise and sits quietly in the background. Oh, and she's wearin' a tudung, eventually she'll end up in the tudung group, it's like so obvious, they sit together. Of course, when I'm all alone, the malays would most likely take me in because they're the minority, but it gives an impression that I only mix with them tudungs. So, I still end up being alone. I like being alone, mind you, but somettimes, it's hard being alone, like it or not, you have to connect with the humans around you. sometimes I wished that I could take off my tudung, would it make it any better? but I know better not to do so. even them non-muslims even ask me why do some muslims wear it while some don't? it's hard to answer that. The weird thing here is, sometimes those muslims who dress sexy in really short shorts and transparent dresses pray more than those who were the headscarves. weird.weird.weird.

then again, I might also seem unapproachable because of my quiet appearance? or my attitude sucked someway? I sometimes drift into my own world. I do it a lot more often now that my ears are always plugged in with earphones.

Of course, the people you make connections at this stage is too reecent to have any significant affection, but at the same time, you feel even more detached with your old friends as we go our separate ways and meet new people, do our own thing.

oh well. I have nothing more to say.

Sunday, August 01, 2010

Yet Another Emo Poem

Nothing but a thread,
I'm holding on with nothing but a thread
and I'm hoping that it's enough to get me through.

Loneliness gets to me,
the garden is untended
yet, I still hope for the flowers to bloom.

Empty dreams
forever unmaterialized without effort.


I must wake up.

Hauntings of The Past

I put my hand on the glass pane;

I can see the outside,

but that's all that I can ever do.

From behind that pane,

I see everything.

Everything that I just can't go back to anymore.