AkImA No NiKkI

Some people can move from book to book easily. Flitting about from one hard-cover to another soft worn bind. They go through their stacks of books in record time, leaving them more often than not, bereft with repetition until they stack up a new stock. Others, like me, find it not as easy. I'm not saying anything, whether it's bad or good or both. That depends on one's opinion and preferences. I am putting this, as always, to put my own mind to rest. Once, I was like that too.  Flitting my way book to book, bind to bind, eager to fill up my whole mind with new and fresh substance. Like a hummingbird on a flower craze. I didn't dwell on one story once I deemed the plot and such satisfactory or more. I needed to find something to look forward to so I won't be bored. I had small attention-span as young minds often do. I figured, once I finish this book, I'll know how it ends and how it goes so I can always read it again. The notion remains pointles...

Some people have trouble writing from their heart.  During school, this is an advantage, or so what I learned from it. I've never gotten the hang of that stuff up till now. Truth be told, I was never a good writer in school. I couldn't get the points I wanted because I needed to adhere to the Ministry's standard. I couldn't use the words to correctly tell my opinions and feelings because in academic writing, emotions are considered banal. They used the word, "bias". Often times, I had to get additional lessons from the teacher so that I'd write according to the legalized standard of each and each school. I was told that I am writing for an exam.  Not for my diary. Well, duh. You don't see me cursing like a sailor on steroids in an exam paper. The mildest I went was "heck". I even changed "ass" to "butt". (oops, SPN reference. it just happened! xD) That's downright innocent. Other kids need...

Hullo. So there's this tiny tidbit I'm offering about the aftermath of my epic fainted-and-split-my-head-on-the-floor incident. It's been 5 days, and I've got these headaches, throbbing around my head, and it's gradually becoming more and more painful. Is that normal? Should I be worried? I mean, if I hadn't had cracked my head on the floor I wouldn't even be the tiniest bit concerned about it but yeah, I just got my head cracked on the floor so the frequency of these headaches are kinda making me edgy. Maybe I should've taken Dad on that offer about the hospital bit after all. Get my head checked. Physically, of course.

Topic : Bullying. In my opinion, a major anomaly yet being treated as "normal" in our society shows how much of a defective society we are. Who are we to judge someone a 'freak'? God? Saint? But this fact is lost to children. Bullies in highschool or workplace can be rationalized, because the mind is capable of words. Middle or primary school, however, should be prevented from the beginning. Just like in Kazoku Game. Sis recommended me a Korean drama called Who Are You : School 2015. It's about sisterhood and stuff but I'm only 6 eps deep and all I see is various cases of bullying. Highchool and adult world aside, children who bullies are children either shrieking help of abuse or shrieking the ways they are taught.  If this was 10 years or 5 years ago, I wouldn't have thought from the bullies POV. Because my priorities were small, and my bullshit tolerance even smaller. I've never been bullied my whole life. I stand up for myself, and I ta...

Hey, uh, so. *clears throat* No more death wishes. Apparently the universe has ways to grant those. Like pinching your butt in a reproachful manner. I should scrawl this on my hand like Harry Potter had his "I must not tell lies" brand. Not like a tattoo 'cause I can't do that.  More like, magically carved into the skin with pure imagination.  Yes, I am aware it sounds crazier than usual.   First of all, I should start with my medical history. I have low blood pressure. No biggie. By definition, it means that my heart is too weak to pump the blood fast enough through my veins so whenever I move too fast, I'd experience momentary blindness and lost sense of my body coordination because of lack of blood flowing to my brain. Keeping up? Okay. Now this ain't nothing new to me. I'm practically used to it and so far, someone was always there to prevent me from falling head first to the ground therefore preventing any major damage. I didn't think m...

As of the moment, I am writing with tears fresh and rolling on my face, skin blotched red with exertion, and breaths alternating with sniffles and sobs. But still I write, because I want to recount yesterday's memories that is etched in the list of torture my demons have gleefully gained. Let's start at the beginning. 12th August 2015. The UPU result is out and everybody is anxious to check out their future. Mine popped out in a single sentence. Science Information (Honours) Library Management Program in Puncak Perdana Campus, Puncak Alam, Selangor. That was it.  I am actually relieved to hear that I even GOT an offer. I figured, could be worse, right?  I gotta focus on the present and avoid any more screw ups. I know Mom and Dad and mostly everyone will be shocked and unhappy but what's done is done. Gotta roll with it, right? Wrong. Unhappy was the vaguest I could give. As of yesterday, I had been flung against the wall of my mistakes repeatedly until there w...

Yeah, this came on just last night. It's not uncommon and it pretty much happens a lot of time when I was in college back when the first ground breakthrough of my condition. Though back then, I was a master at turning my ears off and watch them move their mouths like gaping fish while I thought of scenes in various books that I've read and remembered. Since I hadn't have had much contact other than my friends, I've forgotten all about how naive some people can be. Even when they didn't mean anything by it. Not many people knows about my PTSD. Don't get me wrong, I don't keep it a secret. But I'm not exactly putting it on advertising billboards either. If they ask, I answer. Provided, they ask the right question. There's this acquaintance of mine, when we were still Asasi TESL-ians. She's nice, sweet, respectable, humble, and generally likeable by every human being who knows her.  Even me. Last night, she sent me an article regarding ...

Yes, it's an issue. I legitimately have anger issues.  Can I help it that I can easily get angry like one particular Bruce Banner? Of course.  Why do you think I close my eyes trying to refrain myself from spewing colorful profanities towards the object of my anger or worse yet, trying to break someone's nose? I don't remember having so much anger as a child. Mostly I was quiet and do my own thing. But I do remember how anger was -IS- the easiest emotion I could pull up if it was ever needed. And boy I did need a lot. For some reason, people actually wanted me to lift up a leg and break their bones. Maybe because I never showed much emotion. They poke me, and that's what warranted their death certificate. It's not my fault the boys were too stupid to know they can never win a fight with me having height and strength advantage and the girls (bitchy ones) were too dumb to admit they cried soon as I opened my mouth in primary school.   Having to d...

I don't understand the concept of "I'd take a bullet for you." Odd ice-breaker, I know, but often spontaneous thoughts elicit the most interesting reactions from some people. More often than not, I find myself answering my own questions in a lengthy conversation with myself. In my head. Sounds nuts, but believe it or not, these days, a lot of people can relate. Back to the point. I get that the phrase is used as a show of devotion of sorts, sometimes metaphorically and sometimes (though unlikely in a civillian life) literally. But still. I mean, why would you think your partner would be happy to know that you'd die for them and leave that sort of burden on their conscience? Wouldn't it be more prudent (and more meaningful I'd say) to say "I'd let you eat my portion of fries"? Plus you won't likely to die afterwards, leaving your partner in anguish and sorrow. me too, bud. Are people supposed to feel flattered to know that thei...