Feeling naughty.

I know I shouldn't be childish. Come on, i'm going to be hitting adulthood, soon. But at this moment I have to let this feeling of satisfaction go, and what more a better way than to let it out in Malay.

Ha! Padan muka kau! Nak cakap ape lagi? Cakap la! Cakap la! Kalo hang tak tao cam mana nak baca kenape nak komen komen tak tentu arah. Kalo pandai sangat reply le... tapi tak jadi pulak. Eh, pandai pandai nak komen je. Buang masa je. Bahlul!

Discovery.

Okay, not really a discovery, more of a confirmation towards a statement.

I performed an experiment on myself and found out that maybe this statement could be true.

"You can imagine anything to be, so much so the make believe becomes real."

What say you?

It all started one day, when a visitor came along to our house, she started talking about her sister-in-law who turned out to be pretty wacked up. Priorities all over the place, rationale blown out of proportions. Basically she was a hay-wired catastrophe of a time-bomb waiting to explode. Or so she made it sound like that. But anyway, fast forwarding here a little, she mentioned something about what her shrink friend said could be the source of the problem with her sis-in-law's mind.

Numero uno: Hereditary. Somewhere along her family line lays a possibly problematic person.

Number 2 : Cognitive. This means, she thinks it up. Make believe. She creates problems in her head then makes it seem real. For example: She imagines having a fight with her husband which of course did not take place in the natural then starts fighting with him about it. Of course the poor soul has no clue what the woman's screaming about.

Which makes me wonder if this really can happen. Can we average human beings literally make something up and then bring it to reality?

So, I decided to experiment this curious possibility. First, I have to come up with a situation.

I decided then situation would be that my hated Economics teacher purposely failed me to spite me.

It didn't really work, because I realized that I already dislike him. So, I tried something else.

I imagined my friend betraying me. Doing something that would really hurt me. At first it didn't really click but as I began to just play around the idea and put myself into this situation, I started to get really angry with my friend, so much so I didn't want to talk to my friend, in the natural. It was quite phenomenal as I began to dislike someone I am in perfectly good terms with, simply because I could imagine a bad situation.

The experiment requires some time and if you do want to try it please remind yourself that you are just faking it. You don't want to end up hating someone you like.

We have such a cool brain.

But as I kept pondering upon it, I realized that imagination is something people use (maybe a bit too much) for good and for bad.

Good examples: Business strategies and team building. By putting yourself in a situation you can

sort of asses situation with almost really.

Bad examples: Escapism, which is basically lying to yourself. Like imagining you're married to Johnny Depp, I guess that's why a lot of girls get obsessed over their men. Not all, just some. SOME.

(If I don't specify the 'some', some people will start swearing at me for no apparent reason at all).

But anyway, as a conclusion, the brain rocks. Use it well.

We have some of the most beautiful women.

They walk into the ladies's coach in jeans, a shirt, underwear and no bra, because they have no breasts and I'll tell you why. It's because they're not even women to start with.

The local train station, KTM, has just introduced a Ladies's Coach, where only women are allowed to inhabit it. Since there have been numerous cases of women getting assaulted, (though subtle, it's still assault), the ministry have agreed to a single coach dedicated to us, the producers of mankind.

So, one fine hot and sunny day, my sister and I used the KTM to get to a shop. We used the ladies's coach. There was an officer there and all we saw in the coach, were nothing but ladies.

Then, on the way home, (we noticed the absence of the officer), the coach was filled with men.

Strike one.

The one sitting opposite me was an overly large man, fiddling with his mobile. I wouldn't have minded really but he was seated with his feet sprawled over the floor in such an obscene and rude manner. Seriously, it's a train not your couch.

Strike two.

Next stop, I thought these men would have some brains to get out and respect our privilege but no, they didn't. In fact, two cocky fellows outside the coach entrance looked at each other as if to say:

"Haha, look a pink coach."

"Yeah, it's filled with girls."

"Ya think we should ride it?"

"Yeah, why not? Jom."

Strike three.

I even got a photo of these two buggers. Asses.

Wassup with men? Seriously. Why can't you just leave us a women alone? Why can't you respect our rights?

It's already tiring enough that a significant section of women devote their lives to taking care of you men, can't you repay us by respecting our privacy?

You can't respect our privates,

So we put you out of our path as you all have insisted that, "We knocked into you accidentally." BULL! That's a downright lie!

You men better start treating your women right. Appreciate us because we are the corner stones to families, and many a time even the bread winners to those drunken fools (referring to some men la).

Don't forget, we got synthetic sperms. One day, we can get a bunch of bazookas and shoot you fellas down, and that's the end of the testosterone generation. But, we'll keep the gays, they'll make awesome eunuchs.

Whoops again!

And all that jazz.

Another musical for a musical lover.

CHICAGO

So, have you been taking your prescription? Should you have done that, watch this.

It's a classic musical, been done over and over again, but the diva performance by Catherina Zeta Jones and Renee Zelwegger (correct my spelling) is simply marvelli!

You should be able to identify famous songs like All That Jazz... and Glee lovers will recognize Mr Cellophane!

If you find yourself tapping to 'He had it coming' and 'Oh yes oh yes oh yes they both oh yes they both oh yes they both reached for the gun the gun the gun the gun oh yes they both reached for the gun', haha! You're a convert!

Give yourself a pat on the back!

Aren't they cute?

Imagine yourself going to some new found land... well, it was always there and you decide to plow the land and make it rich with all the wonders of nature. You start digging and come across a baby's hand.

Or, you go to the bathroom, and just as you're about to release the floodgates, you see a baby swimming in the little pool there.

Or, you decide to toss your rubbish out in the big dumpster, you get there and find a baby there instead.

They're all dead by now, of course.

Writing this out already makes me feel sick.

But this is precisely what's happening now. Every other day, there's some poor child buried, mind you; ALIVE, somewhere... ALIVE!

Where has humanity gone to, if sympathy has failed on it's very last strand. Can you imagine being buried alive? Put yourself in the poor baby's position, poor thing.

Well, no point being sarcastic about it because the culprits of this, ________ (I am loss for words), doings are clearly stupid enough to not understand sarcasm.

Hence, if any of you readers can't keep your penis away from a vagina, vice versa, outside wedlock of course, read the following and please take heed. Please.

1. Abstinence. It saves you. Sex with no band across you finger gets you into a lot of trouble. It even gives you new professions, like an undertaker who buries people alive, for an example.

2. No control over those hormones? SUCK IT UP PEOPLE. We're born with control. Every time you feel like you want to do it, get down on your knees and pray. Don't believe in God? Just do it, simply because you think He doesn't exist doesn't mean He doesn't exist. Capish?

Based on my experience, He's the most faithful friend I have.

3. TOO LATE. SHE'S PREGNANT! Tell somebody. Not your parents who are going to kill you (literally, this is directed towards those in narrow minded countries) , but authority and NGOs who can help adequately.

Be smart and careful.

(Guys, be responsible. Your sperm, your responsibility).

4. Circumstances have it that you can't do number 3. Please don't abort the child. They cut the poor baby into pieces, as though it was chicken, except ALIVE. Even animals don't get treated that cruelly.

SAY NO TO ABORTION! YOU MURDERERS!

5. The baby's here. You're not particularly happy. I don't blame you. Who want's to be a mum at 16? As far as I'm concern, you just want to be a whore (excuse the brutality), but let's leave that aside.

Leave the kid at an adoption center, or get a childless couple to adopt the baby. And if you're cheap enough to accept, they might just throw in some cash into your pocket.

Sorry, I couldn't help being mean. It's just that meaner things than verbal abuse happens as a result to pre-marital sex.

Let me just sidetrack here a little, if you were raped, sweetheart, there are tonnes of people out there who are out to help you and aid you in every single aspect possible. You and your child deserve the best. God bless you. You have my prayers.

The rest of you who are just out for the fun of sex, God bless you too. I hope you find your brains soon.

Closest to Interrogation.

"Follow me". She gestured me to follow her tail, leading up to a deserted looking room. She switched on the CCTV computers.

"Sit down." I did. Her serious expression, or more like the lack of it, made me sit. It did not help that the urge to get home quick nagged at the back of my head.

She shuffled around some books, flipped open a page and made me write down the details. Name, time, date.

Silence.

I flicked my eyes to the previous idiot's details, only three days apart. He had written down all the contents.

I looked at her and said, "Would you like me to list down all the contents?" A nod of approval and I was on a roll.

" I have my identity card, licence, a business card from so and so from so and so company, bla bla bla number of bla bla bla notes, can't remember the exact amount of coins, 3 names tags bearings these names, a 'tag sesi', a school tag and even a safety pin!"

( All in italic was written so fro privacy issues).

Quite and unsung was her response. She didn't flinch. She was not impressed. She probably heard this a thousand times. "Full address, house phone number and identity card number".

I wrote, she read. Then she begin to mark the details, as if it was an English essay. Emptying the contents, she made me count the coins, marking the total. When all was specified, she returned them to me. No, "Thank you for your co-operation', or "You may go now'. Just a grunt, like a pig from a land of illiterates.

Well, then again, who can blame her?

The real idiot is me, who left her wallet at the bookstore. I'm just glad I got it back.

Forgive me, my Musical LOVERS!

I completely forgot this!

Pardon beyond pardons!! You must watch this... The treatment will not be complete with out this one!!!

Do, do, DO! watch The Sound of Music.

It's a childhood thing, something everybody loves!

Please, please please watch it...

You will know why I love it so much!

(Btw, it's based on a true story!)

These are a few of my favourite things 2: by Wilfrid Wilson

The Stone "AND will you cut a stone for him,
To set above his head?
And will you cut a stone for him—
A stone for him?" she said.
Three days before, a splintered rock	5
Had struck her lover dead—
Had struck him in the quarry dead,
Where, careless of the warning call,
He loitered, while the shot was fired—
A lively stripling, brave and tall,	10
And sure of all his heart desired...
A flash, a shock,
A rumbling fall...
And, broken 'neath the broken rock,
A lifeless heap, with face of clay;	15
And still as any stone he lay,
With eyes that saw the end of all.
I went to break the news to her;
And I could hear my own heart beat
With dread of what my lips might say	20
But, some poor fool had sped before;
And flinging wide her father's door,
Had blurted out the news to her,
Had struck her lover dead for her,
Had struck the girl's heart dead in her,	25
Had struck life, lifeless, at a word,
And dropped it at her feet:
Then hurried on his witless way,
Scarce knowing she had heard.
And when I came, she stood, alone	30
A woman, turned to stone:
And, though no word at all she said,
I knew that all was known.
Because her heart was dead,
She did not sigh nor moan,	35
His mother wept:
She could not weep.
Her lover slept:
She could not sleep.
Three days, three nights,	40
She did not stir:
Three days, three nights,
Were one to her,
Who never closed her eyes
From sunset to sunrise,	45
From dawn to evenfall:
Her tearless, staring eyes,
That seeing naught, saw all.
The fourth night when I came from work,
I found her at my door.	50
"And will you cut a stone for him?"
She said: and spoke no more:
But followed me, as I went in,
And sank upon a chair;
And fixed her grey eyes on my face,	55
With still, unseeing stare.
And, as she waited patiently,
I could not bear to feel
Those still, grey eyes that followed me,
Those eyes that plucked the heart from me,	60
Those eyes that sucked the breath from me
And curdled the warm blood in me,
Those eyes that cut me to the bone,
And pierced my marrow like cold steel.
And so I rose, and sought a stone;	65
And cut it, smooth and square:
And, as I worked, she sat and watched,
Beside me, in her chair.
Night after night, by candlelight,
I cut her lover's name:	70
Night after night, so still and white,
And like a ghost she came;
And sat beside me in her chair;
And watched with eyes aflame.
She eyed each stroke;	75
And hardly stirred:
She never spoke
A single word:
And not a sound or murmur broke
The quiet, save the mallet-stroke.	80
With still eyes ever on my hands,
With eyes that seemed to burn my hands,
My wincing, overwearied hands,
She watched, with bloodless lips apart,
And silent, indrawn breath:	85
And every stroke my chisel cut,
Death cut still deeper in her heart:
The two of us were chiselling,
Together, I and death.
And when at length the job was done,	90
And I had laid the mallet by,
As if, at last, her peace were won,
She breathed his name; and, with a sigh,
Passed slowly through the open door:
And never crossed my threshold more.	95
Next night I laboured late, alone,
To cut her name upon the stone.

These are a few of my favourite things: by Keats

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Ballad

I. O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has wither’d from the lake, And no birds sing. II. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms! 5 So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel’s granary is full, And the harvest’s done. III. I see a lily on thy brow With anguish moist and fever dew, 10 And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too. IV. I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful—a faery’s child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, 15 And her eyes were wild. V. I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She look’d at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. 20 VI. I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery’s song. VII. She found me roots of relish sweet, 25 And honey wild, and manna dew, And sure in language strange she said— “I love thee true.” VIII. She took me to her elfin grot, And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore, 30 And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. IX. And there she lulled me asleep, And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream’d 35 On the cold hill’s side. X. I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!” 40 XI. I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hill’s side. XII. And this is why I sojourn here, 45 Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake, And no birds sing.