Saturday, October 27, 2007


I was washing the dishes when I remembered the time when Paris was blabbing about Dad, on how she had to buy a lot of stuff using her own money and Dad never actually spend anything for the home.

She went on babbling about the almost empty bottle of liquid dishwasher. The liquid could only last a few washes, maybe a couple of cups and some not-heavily-stained plates, and the forks and spoons in the sink, waiting to be washed. The pans and pots might have to wait.

She went on and on, from one thing to another, wasting her energy complaining about everything while her hands grabbing the bottle and squirting the content onto a sponge. She washed her used cup while I waited for my turn - without her stopping even for a second on pouring her thoughts out loudly.

She finished her babbling when she was done with the washing. She turned off the tap and put her cup back on the dish rack.

I took the sponge to wash my coffee mug and the dishes left in the sink. And there was no more liquid dishwasher left for me. And no foam left on the sponge.

And she was complaining about the liquid dishwasher!

God, I hate her! She should have use just a little of it. But she squirted all of the remaining liquid to was her bl**ping cup and left none for the remaining dishes. If she let me wash them first I could have wash every plates, cups, spoons and forks in the sink and still leave some for her to bathe the bl**ping cup with bubbles.

My experience living in hostels for so long really paid off. The dishes got bubble bath too - with the bubbles coming from the teaspoon of detergent powder I dissolved in a small bowl of water. That should do the cleaning job well.

Back to reality, I was in the hostel, with some oily dishes to wash, and some paste dishwasher. God, I really am lucky to be here, with no one to complain about some stupid dishwasher for some time that sounds like forever. Even if we run out of the paste, we will always be cool with washing dishes with detergents.

Paris should learn about adapting.

And shut the bl**p up!

Monday, October 22, 2007


Someone has inspired me to continue reading. Me? Reading? The girls will laugh at me. I haven't touch a book seriously for like years. The last one would be right before I left home to come to this boring College.

Come to think again, I used to be the bookworm in my class. Anyone would admit that I was never seen without a book most of the time. I skipped PE classes just to read books or do my homeworks. No homeworks at home. That was my principle.

I spent a lot of time on reading materials, especially novels back then in school. I used to dig the old cupboard at Grandma's house for some treasure. Mostly books. Old novels with yellow pages and old paper smell. A couple of decades old. Some were bought when I wasn't even born yet. I would spend the afternoon with a book while my cousins were out somewhere. And the little ones would sit near me waiting for me to finish my reading and play with them. I would usually comply and spend some time playing with them until they get tired and don't feel like bugging me for some time.

A few years living without lifting a book and actually reading it would sound weird for some people who were so used to my habit. Some family members actually noticed that. Now I carry some Sudoku books around. No more thick books of texts. Only numbers.

Yeah, I noticed on how slow I read now. I couldn't even finish a 200-page book in a month. God! What is happening to me? I need to get my old self back! The one who used to read a lot. The one who used to read something heavy enough for young adults at the age of puberty. And I'm not talking about Mills and Boons.

Now, this someone has inspired me to go back to the old habit of reading. So I need good books and a lot of time and very little distraction so I can really enjoy reading. Any recommendations?

Sunday, October 21, 2007


I thought it was already over. I did turn a new leaf. I did have wonderful times with my *lalala...* and my friends. They were all great. And they still are.

I never thought of waking up with a heavy load on my chest, pinning me down to the cold floor, refusing the force I give to sit down and breathe properly. I can only cry.

Sad to realise that for almost two years I was able to forget what has happened to me, only to be haunted by the memories of the past when I am happy with my circle of friends who love me now.

Who can forget when someone said to you, "I should've rape you before I dump you."

For days I have been haunted by the memories. But this morning, waken up by it, I don't know what else I can do. I'm done with crying. I need to forget.

I did forgive him, didn't I?

Somebody please rip my heart out so I won't feel this pain again. Ever.