I Should Have Stayed Mute When I Could.

Life Lesson #190: I need to not pick up calls more often. I should stop being such a Sidney and start being a Tony for a change. Everybody's being a Cassy anyway. Skins much?

Life Lesson #191: Trying to fall back asleep is just like trying to get coffee out of a banana. It just doesn’t work that way. Not even THAT way.

Life Lesson #192: It was right about the time that I googled 'how to archive my tweets' that I decided I should've gone on that camp last summer. However, it wasn’t until I chose not to click 'don't track my own page views' on blogger because i’m pretty sure 89% of it is my doing that i realized something’s seriously off. Then I had coffee and it wasn’t that big of a deal anymore.

Life Lesson #193: Come to think of it, i don’t think i would have minded the fact that everybody’s an asshole if i was one myself.

Life Lesson #194: What’s the use of studying when we can all shift our genesis to arachno- and inherit all the info? Or is it because we’d have so much time on our hands that we wouldn’t know how to deal with it and wish we had the lifespan of that little bugger along with the genes as well? Doesn’t it follow that work is there for entertainment? What kind of sick cosmic joke is that? Not funny.

Life Lesson #195: ‘Every lame movie is exponentially funner when you have more important crap you're supposed to be working on. Same goes for the royal wedding. Ana 7assess belli enti feeh.’  -Dad.

Life Lesson #196: Face your fears; operate the espresso maker.

Life Lesson #197: It was right about the scene of the dude vacuuming his dad’s cremated remains off the floor in that retarded after-hour movie that i decided i wanted to get buried. There goes my cremation prospects.

Life Lesson #198: I’m an idiot. And yes, that’s one of those genes that procreate yet don’t acquire.

Life Lesson #199: Kneecap bruises are the worst. Even worse than the memory of slipping on Beano's wet floor when you’re pretty sure everybody saw your butt crack.

Life Lesson #200: ‘Randy, why are guys creeped out by random i love yous?’ - ‘It's just like 'I'm pregnant' except that they can still run after you.’

FML Recap.

So first I lose my favourite cyborg glasses, then I get no compassion for not being sufficiently blind, then I sprain my wrist for the second time in a week looking for them under the bed, then I get bawled out for being attached to them as if I’ve just ruined my quest  to Nirvana by clinging onto materialistic objects, I get re-berated for daring to complain when I already have a spare.

I lose my phone for three days and nobody calls in to check if I’m still roaming their dimension.

Not to mention the fact that two days ago I found out that my first car, which I’m not getting before a year into college, even after a plead of ‘dad please don’t kill my social life and raise my odds at a motor holocaust’ vs. ‘this is the safest for when you get in a car accident’ is gonna be a…wait for it…Fiat 125.

Yep. This baby right here.

oh how i wish i was kidding.

Just Let Her Pee Already!

So i was standing at the window, like i always do when i end up not getting any sleep at night and after 9 hours of pure agony, and i accept the fact that i’m a zombie and watch the sun come up as i rest my head from pondering the various ways in which i screwed the dying day as i get my fix from whatever poison i choose at that moment; comforting myself by the fact that i’m contributing to the world by lessening its storage of that inanimate object, and muse my philanthropist spree with spacey, nonetheless misplaced, pleasure.  i can never quite get tired of the scene. i live in a quiet safe neighbourhood; one of these places that might have been the love child of a suburb in the outskirts of Vaucluse and a metropolis somewhere off the charts in NY.

Everyday, at exactly the same time, this old dude in beige uniform and snow white tufts of receding hair, walks his dog, a female Alano Español that looks like a housewife that’s been demoted by karma into a four-legged form. He has that way of walking, one you might expect of Frodo as he wears the cloak and ends up walking into a semi-permeable pissed ghost; just floating there, looking at everything and not necessarily seeing anything. And every single day, the poor dog sniffs and staggers at exactly the same spot as he stubbornly drags her along. And just like that, every single morning, i get the urge to scream out at him all godlike and holler-y from a high uncharted place to friggin let the dog pee where it wants to pee! It really likes that bush! Even ‘I’ can see that, someone who lives in the building all the way on the other side of the street on the second floor, and you’re the one holding her leash goddammit! Why do you have to make her so miserable? Could you have any idea how big peeing it is to her? That’s all dogs do, eat hump and pee, you’ve eliminated 1/3 of the cornerstones of her life. If you can take out the time to wake up early and go out of your way to walk your oh-so-beloved dog, you might wanna let it pee where it likes every once in a while, because, you know, that’s like, THE WHOLE POINT TO TAKING YOUR DOG OUT FOR A WALK YOU SICK CLUELESS BASTARD!

Late Night Blues.

If I could do it over I wouldn’t fuck you up, i promise.

I wouldn’t fuck me up either.

Or would i?

Of Busted Bands, Cowering Crushes And Spooked Ministers.

It’s been a weird day alright. Lemme get it down. So I was supposed to have that stupid exam practice at school which I overslept and turned up late for because even though I was on my inebriating allergy pill I couldn’t quite sleep because I got into a retarded fight with stupid people and was up all night thinking of the different ways in which they could ruin me if they felt like it – wouldn’t be the first time anywho – and ended up passing out at 6 and waking up, or more of dragged out of bed by my screeching mom, at around 10:30, about two and a half hours late for the detrimental stupidass exam practise for tomorrow’s sanaweyya practical thingie. I showed up at school, was all nostalgic around the clueless kids. I’d forgotten how the kids were scared of us big people. The teacher was nice enough because she was familiar with my spaced out self and helped out. I was home 20 minutes later and out of the blue, my left wrist and two fingers decide to take some time off. Shooting pain comes out of nowhere and I lose the function of my oh so important middle finger. I’m that badass, I get into fights in my sleep. Booyah!

So anywho, I wrap it up with a compresse sèche and am currently getting in touch with my pharaoh side, having a mummified limb and all. It’s awesome tho, I get to wipe dirt off of stuff with my bare hand, it’s like a super power thingie. Damn I’m awesome. So anyway, I end up floating through the rest of the day, falling asleep for a while after getting some work done for class. AND, hear this, in Arabic class, the dude I used to have a crush on when I was 12 or something talked to me! TWICE! My god had this been 6 years ago I would’ve hyperventilated, dropped my things all over the place and hugged him..then asked him what his name was. Haha. I gotta say it was mildly gratifying tho. Talk about clueless..better late than never tho. In Yo Face Cupid ,,|,

So I was out of it, ducked to avoid homework rounds because I hadn’t done mine, ended up scribbling random shit on the page and felt like a 12-year-old for the second time in one day. I ended up giving the dude a wrong binder and he was so swamped that he didn’t notice. I secretly thanked my guardian angel and told him he’s gangsta. Speaking about those, so I got weirdass people from church coming around to see I’m en7araft/al7adt yet. I creeped out the dude, but that’s another story, not quite suitable for a public blog but I promise I will share the juicy details. Later. Mum’s the word. Was fun tho. I’ve still got it. I’ve never quite failed to creep out people at will. Both consciously, subconsciously and paraconsciously.

We were expecting my uncle over but apparently he gave up halfway in traffic, just as I gave up halfway into my PJ’s and now I look like a hobo, with the tipsy attitude, busted limbs and randomly breaking out in song part all down. Now I’m propping my mood with all sorts of available atrocities to be able to get my Chem work down and actually get some sleep because it’s quite pathetic how I’ve been sneaking my nap hours out of work days like a .. like a .. like a .. blue collar..person..thingie..never mind.

Consider This Hint Of The Century.

Oh life. It’s bigger. It’s bigger than you and you are not me. The lengths that I would go to. The distance in your eyes. Oh no I’ve said too much. I’ve said it up. <—  [ I might or might not be inebriated and shamelessly drunk-dialling you..juuuust sayin ]

That’s me in the corner.

That’s me in the spotlight.<— [ That’s my stalking the hell out of you ]

Losing my religion, trying to keep up with you. <—[ Doing stupid shit to impress you while looking out for lightning ]

And i don’t know if i can do it. <—[ Getting scared shitless of the aforementioned lightning ]

Oh no I've said too much, i haven’t said enough. <—[ I can’t remember what the hell I said, go figure ]

I thought that i heard you laughing, i thought that i heard you sing, i think i thought i saw you try. <—[ This shit is dope y’all ]

But that was just a dream. That was just a dream. <—[ And that was just the pillow ]

Try. Cry. Why. Try. <—[ Can’t quite be coherent yet, gimme a couple of hours and a coffee jug and I'll get back to  ya ]

That was just a dream. <—[ Yep, Back sight is a bitch ]

I like her cuz she’s smaaaaaaaaaaaall, but she’s still sexyyyyyyyyyyy, she’s something ehehehelseeeeee..dududu

Canned Happiness. Oh Yeh.

Warning: Overuse Of Word ‘Thingies’ And Abuse Of Metal Midgets.

So after a failed attempt at sleep, my conscience drags me out of bed back to my Chem assignment. However, I decide that I want coffee. I’d already seen dad work that espresso maker like a DJ would. So, I head to the kitchen and stare at the tiny little metal beast and it stares right back at me, flaunting its chest – front piece – like a confrontational midget. I recall the image of my dad pushing some projection sideways, so I do that. After a little fumbling I get it right and as I run tap water on the coffee corpses from the last mug trial, the filter falls off. I put it back on, taking a bit of time till I found where the part goes in. Then, I find out we ran out of our favourite espresso brand, Lavazza. If I remember dad correctly, it’s practically impossible to make espresso out of anything else. Since I’m not god, I settle for the next best solution after creating me some leisure beans. And that is mixing em. I look for coffee and all I find is the plain old Turkish blend. I put some of that in, pat it with the weird projection patting thingie, and keep shoving the thingie back in but it wouldn’t stick! Took me a couple of minutes and spills to find out what goes where, then it’s finally intact. Then comes the punch line of the plot, the one that decides whether this is gonna be a light romance or a horror story. The knob. With the virtual mug middle-fingering me with a sarcastic twirl of steam. I look on to the signs and drawings and remember what my dad pressed and I do that. The machine starts howling. I panic. I pat it. It shuts up somehow. So I head up for the steamer, another projection which heats milk by blowing steam. After about four attempts of having it pee all over the place, it finally manages to spray properly enough for this not to work as a TWSS joke. I put the milk in a mug, making it big enough because I know how much of a klutz I am, and I shove the thingie in it. It starts to moan. “Eeeeeeeeeeee eeneeeeneeeneeee weee weeew weee eeeee eee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee neeeeneeeee prgh fot fot eeeeeeeee”. How come when I touch it it moans like a friggin cat in labour and when dad does it purrs like a helpless kitty? I panic. It’s dad’s baby. He’d slaughter me. Then as the moans ascend and the milk descends, all over my clothes, I burst into a fit of laughter, bringing my dad to the kitchen the sight of the espresso maker spraying hot water at me out of the place where I should’ve put the lock on the coffee pit and didn’t, out of the steamer and overall out of the metal midget which was halfway off the ledge preparing to attack me with my holding the mug in place halfway in the air, blowing on my right knuckles that got scalded by its ninja splash attack and using my knee to push it back in.

THEN

A stream of beautiful yet reluctant coffee drips out of the nipple like projections. Halfway into the mug, my dad takes over with the declaration that it’s not a cow. “And what the hell are you making coffee in the microwave?” He says. “Well I couldn’t heat the milk with this thingie because it kept wailing like a hungry three-year-old and I decided to save it and myself the agony”.

On dad’s cue to clean up after myself, I unlock the coffee pit to clean the filter only to have it spurt hot water at me like a friggin cobra! “OOOOOOOWWW you little sdflasdjf@#Jkhlo  ,,|,  AAAAAAH”.

The cappuccino tasted awful. And in case  you were wondering, the metamorphosis was right around the point where it was too light to be called espresso and too dark to qualify as anything else. I got scalded, multiple times, I nearly burned the coffee – and yes apparently that IS possible – the espresso maker almost imploded and I am now, as pathetic as I feel admitting it, officially scared of the damn thing! But I got coffee out of the coffee maker. :) Took me 8 months but I did. AND I AM AWESOME!

OH and guess what? After that last episode, dad promptly offered to make me espresso any time I feel like having one.

Oh yeh.

 

The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself. ~Michel de Montaigne

 

Love me oh Lord, he threw me away. He laughed at my sins, in his arms I must stay.

Why fear death? Be scared of living.

Ice Cream

Nobody makes sense anymore. Everything makes sense. Maths makes sense. People don’t. People fucking don’t. People don’t make sense. They make everything, except sense. I want sense.

 

Young believers,
come and see her,
she has pushed him,
to the ground,
though with one hand,
he could break her,
with one hand split her in two.

If You’re The Nice Guy That’s All You’re Getting.

Chem All-nighter + Espresso = Sane.

Today Is Gonna Be The Day But They’ll Never Throw Em Back To You.

Life Lesson #180: Don’t ask for help. You won’t get it, and when it’s been acknowledged it gets harder to deal with. Everything is just easier when nobody knows about it, you know? And it is, sorta, pathetic, too.

Life Lesson #181: “There are many things that I would like to say to you but I dunno how.”

Life Lesson #182: I’m scared.

Life Lesson #183: A friend once told me that if something’s not given to you, then there’s no use nagging about it because they’re not gonna get it anyway. I don’t believe that. If that was true I’d be dead by now. And that’s the best case scenario.

Life Lesson #184: Drinking tea will not insult Coffee’s feelings. Sometimes it’s nice to take a break from the things you love, because if you love them too much they could kill you.

Life Lesson #185: Goodbyes are as mythical as phoenix and bigfoot. But then again, if they never existed, how come the nomenclature receipts them?

Life Lesson #186: “By now you shoulda somehow realized what you’re not to do.”

Life Lesson #187: Sleep is good.

Life Lesson #189: You did not notice I skipped one.

Life Lesson #188: More often than not, people only notice it when you’ve pointed it out. So don’t.

Because I Can.

And so I’ve learned not to show.

It’s not going away. It’s not fucking going away.

FML

Today I found out that taro’s white and not green. I thought it was a bald coconut. I still dunno where the green comes from. #FML

Conveniently enough, after half an hour of getting home, having lunch and watching TV, my dad points out that I still have my backpack on. I’d already used the bathroom. #FML

I got rejected for the fourth time in two years. I was the one who asked them out, as usual, and I didn’t get a reason, as usual. Now I sort of expect it and do it for the rush. Now I know for sure that there are 4 people out there who think I’m a full-blown psychotic, net profit that is. #FML

On the bright side tho, I finally got the hang of chemical conversions. About time. The evaluation quiz of that chapter is this week. #FML

After an hour of trying to drag me out of bed for Chem class, my dad manages to wake me up with a 2-second phone call. Needless to say, he took it personally and we didn’t go for ice cream today. #FML

I’ve had my hair up in a bun for four days. I think it works well with my over-sized brown hoodie. The human race doesn’t seem to agree. I couldn’t care less. #FML

I have 3 people that I don’t know who keep following me around in classes. I don’t remember missing a birth control pill, but they seem to think I’m their momma bear. #FML

Wherever I seem to sit, the tallest girl in class always, by pure karmic powers, ends up in front of me. I spend all class bobbing sideways like a bottle in the fucking ocean to get a decent view. More often than not, I don’t. #FML

A certain invigilator seems to think of me as more of a hand-rest than an actual person. I’ve been getting more action from her than I’ve had in, well, my 18 years of existence. She doesn’t seem to notice. I don’t know her first name. #FML

Rejected From Hell.

After After Hours High.

There’s nothing more to say. There’s absolutely nothing more to say. I’ve had all the assurance I want and now everything is crystal clear about everything there is and I know exactly what to do about everything. All I need to do know is muster up enough of what’s left of the infamous balls that got me the aforementioned assurances to actually follow through with what should be done. There’s no such thing is waiting for your gear to lock in, really. I’ve tried that, it doesn’t jumpstart, you gotta warm it up. And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about work except doing it. Most of you would say that’s why it doesn’t work most of the time. But as vague as this is, it’s crystal clear. I just gotta show myself that I can make this work as much as I can ruin it, so that when I do want to ruin it again it’s as fun and guilt-free as a bowl of ice cream on a hot day. Adrenaline rush is as fun as it is scarce, otherwise it’s just boring. It’s so easy to let everything just fall apart and sit back and watch it crumble, and dare I say a wee bit fun too. But at some point you gotta see that you don’t deserve ruining everything you’ve ever worked for your whole entire life just because you got a little more bugs on the windshield than your wipers can handle, right? you just gotta get out there and scrub em out old school with a rag and get on with it. It’s sanaweyya boot camp for a couple of months then I can get back to my whole 'fucking-stuff-up-for-fun’. Yep. That sounds about right.

After Hours High.

'You're Rory'

'as in the you're the little sheep whose best friend is an abusive cow and doesn't know anything about life except that it's around the area where there's enough clover, your Jedi is an over aged goat who's angry at life for no apparent reason and you meditate by watching your fellow pig eat?'

'Nah, more like you're the closest thing to a cartoon character who's exceptionally radiant on their own, yet who's cynical attachment to life is through the potential anger and irony of the seemingly tough, yet harmless, people you're surrounded by.'

Of Cucumbers That Don’t Satisfy.

There’s so much rejection one can take, really. Then it’s Bitch Mode – Full Throttle. Except that by bitch I mean I’m not gonna try anything of the sort again and just stay away from the whole department. Okay then it’s Emo Mode – Full Throttle, or nawh, that doesn’t quite capture the whole essence of it. Veggie Mode – Full Throttle. Yep. That’s about it.

Kefaya. Never again. Never.

Haha, no. Imma still do it and imma come here and write about how much of an idiot I was. I’m badass like that.