Oh...

My...

God...

I just broke my personal record for Minesweeper and achieved a set goal for it that I had never ever expected to obtain.

98 seconds!

Previous record was 104 seconds and I had never believed that it would be possible to clock under 100.

I went for a run today. I guess my need for an epinephrine fix finally overcame my phobia I have developed about getting assaulted on the beach.

You see: My mom was walking on the beach about sunset time one day and there was this guy that came up and grabbed her. If not for a some other guy that happened to be walking by at the time... well, there would have been a different consequence.

That story changed my sense of safety in Miri and in general far more than it should have. Right on the verge of a phobia, in my eyes.

Anyway, got the balls to go for a run on the beach and I am so proud of myself!

I really hate to go with anyone else. Ideally, it would just be me and my thoughts and my music. If there were someone with me, I would feel the need to spark random (though sparse) snippets of conversation.

It's my 100th post. Yay, Blog!

Just got back from this club -- Balcony.

I feel kind of sorry for the people that were stuck hanging out with me. Techno music = mood killer. God gave me hips and I learned to use them and apparently they and techno don't mix.

It was still sort of fun aside from the fact that I do not know how to dance to techno. It's fun watching people have fun in its own way.

There was line dancing too.

I hate dusk.

The hour when day meets night.

The greyish tinge that washes over everything in sight is gloomy.

The bustle of the day is winding down and the life of the night has not yet begun.

The sun has set but not everyone has turned on the lights, making it seem even darker than the darkest hour of the night.

It is even worse if the sky is cloudy; preventing the sun to say his final farewell.

It is just an extremely melancholic time of day. I don't like it.

Went out to eat at the restaurant in the Marriott's yesterday. They are having a Middle Eastern themed buffet for the puasa season. They even flew in a couple chefs from Jordan to man the grills.

They had an interesting array of food that tasted really good though wasn't as exotic as I had initially expected.

There was this this gyro-like thing with lamb, tomatoes, onions, etc. -- except instead of the cucumber paste, they had this paste made out of sesame seeds. Tahini, I think was what the guy called it. Google seems to agree with me.

There were some really weird pickled cheeses too. I think those are more of an acquired taste though -- one I doubt I will be acquiring anytime soon. I tried eating it by itself, with some chicken, with that gyro-like thing; the taste was just too strong for my liking, I guess.

Damn... now I really feel like some Brie.

I have a feeling a lot of their food was toned down to fit Malaysian taste buds. Not to mention, they probably had trouble finding the exact ingredients needed and had to improvise (I had to do that with Pau before).

Whatever the case, the food was still really good. It was one of those times when you mouth refuses to stop tasting even after your stomach starts screaming at you to stop.

One of the songs on my current playlist is Dave Matthews Band's Grace is Gone.

There is this part in the song that makes me think that my phone is ringing.

Subsequently, about 10% of the time, I get fooled and head out to get the phone only to realize it was just the song.

Though, annoying as that may be, it's still a great song.

So it keeps getting brought up to me that life is supposed to be about seeking a good balance. Balance between work and play. Balance between a healthy amount of sloth and fitness. Balance between...

Well, balance.

I try. I really do try.

Not too much lazing around and not to much tapping away working. But to constantly be conscious of this supposed quest for balance, something just doesn't feel right about it. This can't be what life is about. It feels wrong.

So I have officially declared intention on wanting a hand phone (cell phone or mobile phone if you prefer).

Mom: I'm going to leave my other phone here for you then. (she just recently got a new number and is 'phasing' her old one out)
Me: Ok. (Cool... no hassle on going out and buying a phone)
Mom: Just - if you get a call don't pick up the phone because I'm trying to phase it out.
Me: . . . . . . *walks away*

The strongest driving factor behind my wanting a hand phone is because I hate having to get up and walk downstairs to answer the damn phone. How is not answering a hand phone going to help me any?

I tried going jogging this morning -- just a few minutes ago, to be more accurate.

Never got beyond my front gate.

When I walked out the front door, I saw three construction workers walking past my house. One of the neighboring houses is being torn down for... I don't really know what but it's being torn down and there is a constant stream of construction workers wandering back and forth outside my house.

I want some exercise but even I am not stupid enough to tempt fate by running around in front of 15-20 guys during dawn before the sun has fully risen and before anyone in the neighborhood is awake.

I wonder how many of those construction workers are illegal Indonesian immigrants.

So instead, I went running a few laps around my house till the racket those devil-dogs made got intolerable. Apparently, they can't stand the thought of me running around while they are cooped up in the cage. Pansies!

I fucking hate PMS.

The constant need to eat, the bloating, the weight gain, the depression, the lack of energy, the painful cramping, the oily hair and face... Ugh.....

Is the ability to bear children really worth all this trouble? I don't see why men can't at the very least share this. At least give them the bloating and weight gain. It probably doesn't effect men as much emotionally to gain weight for a few days a month.

So I have been on the cusp of sickness for the past three days. Got that tickly, itchy throat you get right before you, one day, wake up and find you have a massively sore larynx and your voice sounds not unlike that of a bitch-cat in heat.

I have been attempting to stave off impending illness with lots of sleep, fruits and water and kill it before it gets any worse but it seems that my efforts in the struggle has only been enough to bring the outcome to a draw.

Three freakin' days! I am tempted, at this point, to simply let it come full force and get it over with. The act of falling asleep is a true bitch with this throat; it tickles me in ways that are too annoying to sleep through.

I just reread the story I wrote yesterday. It is so juvenile.

Oh well! Hopefully as my writing muscle gets stronger, my writing style will mature.

There was really no reason for this post except for:

It was just before my final year of school when my family moved back. The very first thought that came to mind was her. Had she changed much? Did she still have long hair? Does she remember me?

Childhood memories resurfaced of us romping about in our gardens, riding our bikes, playing tag and other games only a child's imaginative mind could come up with. Some days, we would share little bits of treasure that we would find while going about our respective days. Other days, we would lie on the lawn and make up ridiculous stories to tell one another. Those days were my favourite.

On that first day of school, I stood near the entrance, fidgeting and scanning the waves of passing students for the near-forgotten face. When I finally saw her, my eyes grew wide. She had changed in so many ways but there was a pang of familiarity as soon as I saw her.

As I walked up to her, I saw the same mask of recognition befall her face as her eyes landed on me. I watched as her eyes travelled over me, assessing and considering; and then she turned and walked away leaving me standing, shocked.

Our first class together set our relationship. There I was, sitting at my desk and taking a sip out of my water bottle, when she walked in with her gaggle of friends, giggling and laughing.

They entered the class and she pointed to the group of empty seats directly behind my own seat. I felt a swell of hope surged within me. Her eyes locked onto mine as she made her way over. Her arm slowly reached out as she drew nearer, as if she were preparing to wave to me. Instead, as she made her way past my desk, her hand came out and knocked my water bottle over, spilling its contents all over me.

The trail of laughter as I rushed down the hall to the restroom followed me, but none quite as loud as hers.

Ever have something on your to-do list that is pretty important but has just been sitting there for the absolute longest time? It is always there but always getting pushed down the list so that you can get other things done instead.

I have been back for quite some time now and I have yet to get my new Identity Card (I.C.) made, I have yet to get my passport updated and I have yet to get my Malaysian driver's license renewed.

All pretty important shit, yes?

I have no idea why I keep pushing it back (I'll do it tomorrow/Monday/when I actually go out). It is probably some subconscious reaction -- a mental shudder, if you will -- to dealing with the hassle that always goes along with this stuff. The photos you need to go take, the queuing, paying this fee or that...

Another thing I have been putting off is getting my hair cut. I have serious phobias about the crimes that hairstylists can do to my coiffure.

Alright, this week is the week! This is the week this crap will be gotten out of the way once and... till it needs to get done again.

There! It's public knowledge now. Now I am bound by internet phantoms to run my errands.

The first time I ever read this, a college professor had it pinned up on the notice board outside his door. I just wanted to post it here for posterity.

A retiring professor was setting his last exam, for a graduate course in statistical thermodynamics. Being a bit bored with it all, and with a well kept and wry sense of humor, he set a single question on the sheet: "Is Hell endothermic or exothermic? Support your answer with a proof."

He had little idea what to expect, or how to grade the results, but decided to reward any student who was able to come up with a reasonable and consistent reply to his query. One "A" was awarded. Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law or some variant. The top student however wrote the following:


"First, we postulate that if souls exist, then they must have some mass. If they do, then a mole of souls can also have a mass. So, at what rate are souls moving into hell and at what rate are souls leaving?

I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for souls entering hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all people and all souls go to hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change in volume in hell. Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in hell to stay the same, the ratio of the mass of souls and volume needs to stay constant.

There are two possible conditions:
One, if hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter hell, then the temperature and pressure in hell will increase exponentially until all hell breaks loose.
Conversely, if hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until hell freezes over.

We can resolve this question with the 1990 postulation of Theresa LeClair, the girl who lived across the hall from me in first year residence (I'll sleep with you when hell freezes over). Since I have still not been successful in obtaining sexual relations with her, condition two above (hell freezing over) has not been met, and thus it can be concluded that condition one is true, and hell is exothermic."