London Baby!

Holy mother of SpongeBob.

I'm actually gonna go to London.

Yes, it dawned upon me after years of whining to my mum about how we never go anywhere except balik kampung and "merapatkan silaturahim" with the Pilah folks, she finally budged from her mingy ways and we're final-damn-ly going on a holiday.

Yipee!

Miracles do come true.

I'm currently listening to Free Fallin' from John Mayer, staring at a McVitie's biscuit package, staring at the soon-to-break-down heater, counting the number of clothes hangers I have, wondering why chocolate tastes so good and yet it kills your chances of ever getting a man

... generally procrastinating from packing.

But me being me, I always have a solid, concrete reason why I have not progressed onto the next step of travelling:

a) It's too damn cold
b) It's too bloody cold
c) It's too mindblowingly cold
d) It's just extremely hot cold.

So, here I am, blogging.

I have a plethora of things I wanna do when I reach there. So many, just simply too many.

England To Do List '10

One

Souvenirs, souvenirs, souvenirs: The cheaper, the better. I'm still half Chinese after all

Two
Old Trafford: Glory glory biatch!

Three
Stamford Bridge or Emirates Stadium: Just to catch a glimpse of John Terry/Theo Walcott. Football rivalry or not, I'll take them on, anytime.

Four
Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum: I've been there actually, I want to relive the execution by guillotine exhibition again. Gore is beauty.

Five
Harrods: Sushi, sushi, sushi... and Princess Diana's memorial

Six
Err... kabobs?

Seven

Paris: We're just doing the French government a favour by using their Eurostar services. The phrase "let's not shop" shall not escape the dance of our lips. And mummy... nak beg baru :)

Eight
British food: I wanna see what's all the rage about a full English breakfast. If I get food poisoning, await my lawyer's letter, Gordon Brown.

Nine
Stereophonic's Greatest Hits: It will be like raising a toast with the Holy Grail. This elusive CD had me chasing it from Kuala Lumpur to Cairo. It was a transcontinental search that will end with victory and valor in London, when I see the white cover staring me in the face at Virgin, insyaAllah.

Ten
Friends inhabiting the island: I actually made some minor plans with a friend to meet up in London. I haven't seen him in about 3 years and I'm pretty excited about it. Abscence makes the heart grow fonder and way more expectant of gifts when she reaches there. Hint hint.

I'm growing sleepy and restless. An hour or two of sleep, breakfast, and then off to Cairo for a 9.30 am flight the next morning.

Pray for my safety and God bless.
Au revoir Mansoura.

M.Y.O.F.B

I've written exactly two posts in January. Compared to a certain housemate who has written over 40+ posts in those 31 days.

Shame on you, Nazeera.

I really need some diligence to write sustain this still on life support blog before it fades into oblivion.

Anyway, onto more pressing matters. Tomorrow is the OSCE exam. Last year, it was about the Upper Limb and Lower Limb, identifying muscles on the exam sheet, with this one very frivolous looking 50-something, Egyptian who couldn't keep his wandering eyes and toothless grin to himself.

I remember being so nervous, that to a point, I even got confused between a sperm and an ovum *hint* they're not from the same , genitalia *hint*. Oh, of course, how I wanted to jump off a building after that exam. But knowing this place, I'll probably fall onto a heap of donkey crap and survive.

Oh, damn.

*Again, just a joke, I do not condone suicide :)*

And on the 6th, I'm flying to London, insyaAllah. I'm rather excited to see my parents again after almost 4 months and visiting London again. The first time was when I was 12, during the Golden Jubilee. I remember ransacking Tesco for having prepackaged frosted cakes, paying 5 pounds for a plate of friend noodles, having sushi in Harrods and getting deliberately ignored at a bloody kabob stall for not having an English accent by a South Asian man.

I would like to say Mr. Person-Who-Came-From-The-Same-Continent-As-Me selling dry to the bone shawarmas at the kabob stall

...screw you

Your shawarma tasted like crap and you look like you should be stopped at the airport.

Anyway, in a not-as-productive-as-I-wanted-day, I had a very annoying encounter with a rather grotesque person who shall be named Pak Geham (Pak Cik Geli Macam Haram). I was studying with my friend in her room and while on a break, we were fooling around with the webcam. Suddenly, Pak Geham acquired about me, like I was some mail order bride, vulgarity in it's full glory.

" What is her height and weight?"

He asked my housemate. I was trying to be a sport and ignore the obvious cyber harassment but he continued with...

" Obese la tu"

Stop, right there, asshole.

Pak Geham went on further of insinuating I was this dumbass that didn't have an ounce of intelligence in my brain, unqualified to speak of religion and social indecencies and was incapable of conversing in English *the dumbass said he got a 97 for his English SPM, which tells us how old this revolting piece of turd really is*

I'm sorry for not entertaining your pathetic attempt at impressing me,Pak Geham but I only bat an eyelash for people who do not come from scum of the earth. You probably got a scholarship, learned fcking English from a browning, second hand Oxford dictionary, made a small fortune from kissing government officers asses and for that, you think you have the world at the palm of your hand and that you are God's gift to women.

Thanks but not thanks Pak Geham. I like men who are not complete brainless charity cases of the government and you sir unfortunately fall into that category. Instead of wishing you death, I'm just gonna go for the subtle...

I hope you get anally raped by a gang of homosexual hobos who share needles and have a fetish of gluing their victim's scrotum during intercourse

I'm sorry my obese self has polluted your spectrum of beautiful women that seem to be undeniably attracted to you *your mother and your insufferable wife do not count*. Please, snap out of your self centered fantasy and understand that you are nothing but dirt under my shoes. Worthless, shameless, brainless, disgusting and utterly wretched.

You don't know who you're dealing with.

Not a bad post for a girl who didn't get 97 in her English SPM eh?

Habis Madu, Sepah Dibuang.

I think every Malay-speaking, hormone filled teenage girl was warned repeatedly about dating, with this saying naturally taking its place in the most overused phrase *other than "jangan pula perigi mencari timba", another annoying saying that seemed to plague our pride laden society*

To those who know me, I used to be rather Malay impaired *Yes, I have this weird pseudo American accent, blame MTV* but coming here, being surrounded by people who take pride in speaking Malay, I have indulged and embraced further speaking my mother tongue and have been immersed one of the many things that make Malay so rich in culture: Peribahasa.

This particular one strikes a chord in all our hearts doesn't it?

The ultimate fear that if one lead a social life wild enough, the repercussions will great enough to leave us unwanted by the opposite sex.

As crude as any saying might go, we can paraphrase this "peribahasa" into something simpler;

Nobody wants used goods.

... or in society, this means girls who have been with other boys *may it be physically or emotionally.

Ah, I have such an enormous bone to pick with society on this one.

I don't condone sexual freedom, just keep your debauchery to yourself...

But, I really have to ask to all those men out there:

What is your problem?

Is it not bad enough that you've been with a girl and not taken responsibility over her current stigmatized status, escaping scot free when in fact it takes two to tango? Need you label the promiscuous, punish the lewd, verbally whip the unchaste while sitting on your high horse?

Why is it so easy to forget the immorality you've shared and be so quick to judge and snicker at those crestfallen harlots you now call them?

Why is it so easy for you to move on?

We shed tears for you.

We put our trust in you

We gave ourselves to you, mind, body and soul

We promised our hearts to you

We held your hand when you are at your weakest

... And you expect us to just accept it when you toss us aside and move on to your next wide eyed victim?

And you, this is why religion preaches abstinence and boundaries, the same religion you were brought up in and now have abandoned, it's to protect us women from bastards like you, from slander, from being hurt and from being another notch on your bedpost.

But you know what, I have one more thing to offer you: my sympathies and gratitude.

I'm sorry that you've chosen this path.

I'm sorry that you think down south more than you do north

I'm sorry that you've discarded a chance to escape your depraved past

I'm sorry that you've turned your back on a stipulation-free friendship.

.... and I'm glad that I've saved my friend from such a disgusting animal like you.

P.S

To you,

You're hanging on a very delicate thread.... and Mansoura's been very windy lately, don't you think?

The Hiatus is Over.

I hear grumbling.

Yes, yes.
Sorry, but I was strucked by a two month long condition of lazyitis and notgivingadamnoma.

Yes, I care more about my CafeWorld, than blogging.
*speaking of CafeWorld, I lost about 20,000 CafeCoins worth of food because FB malfunctiioned and cleaned all the food on the counter AND the stove. Screw you Facebook!*

How selfish eh?

The year 2010 is here, finally.

The big two-o for me.

That marks a good 20 years of not having a proper boyfriend and never getting straight A's *I was always one or two subjects off, yes, the classic dumbass syndrome*

I lead a very pathetic life, please don't judge :)

Anyway, I just realized that in all those years, I've made some of the best friends, best memories and eye opening experiences I will never trade in for anything.

I can honestly say I've learned firsthand some of the lessons in life you only hear old people moaning about.

Lesson #1
First impressions always lie.

Always, without a doubt, with the first glance of a person, you cannot judge the content of their character.
I have a friend named Nik Shazarina.
Other names people might call her: Princess, Bitch, Snob etc.
And honestly, that's what I called her as well, the first time we met in Form 1.
She went on and on about her last school, Convent Bukit Nenas, about how awesome the cheerleading team was, how her last school was so much cooler.
...and naturally, most of us almost got a stick out and beat the living crap out of her.
But as time went on, I found out Nik likes animals as much as I do, she does charity work, she respects her heritage *I don't hate you for being Kelantanese Nik :)* and she is willing to sacrifice her time and money for our ailing Model United Nations club.
And I love her loads for that.
Thus, lesson learned as a teenager, never ever judge a book by its cover, especially if the book will hit your hard, inflicting borderline paralysis each time you insult her.
So, don't.

Lesson #2
Popularity doesn't buy friendship

There was this girl in my school, let's just call her Miss. A.
Miss A was okay-looking, not hideous but not exactly runway material.

But she had one thing going for her: Manipulation

She would make friends with only the coolest people
You either had to be rich or gorgeous or be in with the "it" crowd to be friends with her

Not that it bothered many of us but it was fun watching this small, minuscule little girl trying to create borders of elitism during a time where most of us were too immersed in personal angst to actually give a crap.

And how she got into that crowd in the first place?

She gossiped about everyone and supplied everyone with the juiciest and darkest of secrets people told her in private, without a flinch of guilt.

...Then tragedy struck.

She got into a fight *guess about what? hint: she let someone's secret out* with one of the Queen Bees of the popular crew and was ostracized shortly after.

No one, I repeat.... no one wanted to be friends with her.

And I'm sorry to say, even I was one of the "smile, wave and quickly look away" friends that she had after her dethronement *well, not because she was stripped off her nobility but she pissed me off so many times that I could've torn her flesh off without any remorse*.

She eventually changed schools.

Lesson number 2, popularity doesn't go a long way, when the means of getting there will probably send you straight to hell.

Lesson number #3
Always be there for someone, even if they have wronged you

This is a vital one.

The place: School and every where else
The time: 2006, 16 years old
The problem: when boys become bitches.

My friend and her boyfriend were inseparable.
They went everywhere together, and she adored him so because he was rich, good looking and in her words... a good kisser.
But I had a problem with this boyfriend of hers, he only liked his girlfriend's pretty friends.
... and obviously that didn't include me.

So, being the belligerent little wench that she was, she adhered to what he said.

If there was an outing that included her boyfriend, she would exclude me.

Oh, in my mind, I had laid out a torture plan for each person, a repeated circumcision by rabid dogs for the boyfriend and for my insolent friend, I would push her off a cliff and watch with a wide, depraved smile.

But of course, happily ever after only existed in books and in states of denial.

They eventually broke up, because she said he treated her badly, not returning her phone calls and ultimately ignored her public, and she couldn't take it anymore
*I chuckled a bit, to be honest*
And guess who she came to?
I don't know if she felt guilty or regretful...

But I sure felt fantastic.
:)

Lesson #4

Respect yourself

I know this one girl, a senior.
She gained a notorious reputation for being a whore.

Why?

Cause she was one of those risque girls that seemed to lead a life of sexual liberation.
She was bisexual, so she did everything, tried everyone, literally the epitome of free and easy.
She had her own wild crowd that seemed to have celebrated their debauchery.

But one day, she got pregnant and that's how all her dirty little secrets spilled over.
People were disgusted by her, people even thought twice before touching her.

... Just because she wanted to have a little fun before growing up.
There's no harm leading a life of merriment while we're young, but limits are important.
There's no such thing as living in the moment and not suffer the repercussions later.

From my teenage experience, I can say that it was one whirlwind that have fed me with some of the best stories I can tell to the future generation. The good and the bad things of growing up should be experienced by everyone, even if it's in varying degrees of intensity. We should learn to make our own mistakes in order to create our own life story.
Living large starts here...

Cause growing up is one hell of an adventure.

Democracy Gone Awry

Today is the PCM's election day here in Mansoura.

Can you hear that chirpiness and glee in my typing while you read this?

Oh, you can't?

Good... cause obviously I'm not at all happy about this election

This shenanigan of an election have harrowed through many criticisms and scathing comments.
I shall not divulge furtherbut let me just say, in a time of crisis and call for democracy,

Not everyone stepped up to demonstrate their leadership and tolerance towards others

The election was done in the least publicized manner, a few forwarded messages on YM, petty fliers distributed among peers and a few announcements on PCM's website. I swear, if Mao Ze Dong and Stalin were alive, they would be proud of the almost camouflaged way how this election was carried out. Rather communist like don't you think?

And somebody pointed out that we're archaic, that we're outdated, that it's our responsibility to be thoroughly informed about these things, in any way possible. He went further as to label us cavemen just because we have better things to do than religiously scour through PCM's blog.

Yes sure, throw your responsibilities at us. Pass it around. It's a bloody ball isn't it, and this situation is a bloody game.

Your failure to create a buzz for something so vital to our student life here and you decide to put the blame on us for not being in the know? Shame on you for calling yourself a conscientious member of PCM.

Another incident was that some of the overzealous fanatics of PCM had deemed our petition *the one we created to protest against the hush-hush elections* non Islamic and considered this opposition an attack on the leaders of Islam.
Hmmm, I wonder...

In which verse in the Koran did God choose one more prophet after Muhammad?

So why the hell are you putting yourself on such a high pedestal?

Us attacking the election and forming the petition DOES NOT equate to attacking Islam. It's a rather bold declaration isn't it, to consider yourself a leader of Islam when in actual fact, you even mooting the thought contradicts with the teaching of Islam *the last time I checked, Islam didn't encourage conceited behaviour*

You holier-than-thou hooligans, I'm tired of listening of you whine and moan about how we do not conform to the you own self interpretation of Islam. Does that make us apostates? Enemies of Islam?
Of course not.

Just because we stall your agenda to rise to power does not mean we aspire to destroy PCM or Islam for that matter. As a leader, you should be able to comprehend the fact that everybody's view might differ from the other and this does not mean that one person's perception of the same idea is wrong. Do not negate something that contradict your ideas just because you're not comfortable with it. It shows weakness, pettiness and most of all, chauvinistic behaviour.

Just stop it.

Dear Dr. Amal Fathy,

Greetings Doctor,

This is in regards of what happened today. You know, the utter humiliation I endured while you chastised me in front of a whole classroom filled with my colleagues when I did nothing apparently wrong but a mere side discussion REGARDING your X-Ray which I thought was a too miniscule of a problem to be discussed in your esteemed presence.

Sure, it some context, I am at fault for talking while you yourself were explaining something to an Egyptian student but me expressing my own interest in the topic that you have been divulging about is not a crime that should be punished in a group of my own associates.

If my minor offence is deemed a crime deserving of capital punishment, I would like to bring your attention to the fact that my so called abomination is practiced by every other Egyptian student there are.

Each and every one.

So me being singled out, out of the hundreds that have committed the same crime, in lectures, in everybloodywhere I say that's discrimation of the highest degree.

You might not evidently dislike me because I'm Malaysian, but your nitpicking sure does paint a whole mural of prejudice.

And by the way, if you are wondering why I creating such a havoc with my side chatter, I was just telling my other friend how the wedged area is a necrotic tissue due to an infarction.

And I was right wasn't I?

But I chose not to argue with your cause I am trying to portray this image of feminity and shed my boisterous, argumentative ways.

Oh, how much I wanted to bicker with you, in front of everyone, but who loses at last?

Me.

Cause I'll be known as the girl who fights authority, the girl who's unfit to be courted, the trouble maker and disrespectful to her elders.

Maybe you were having a bad day, but having it manifest into this shallow and stoic attitude will not do any of us any good.

You'll probably have a laugh about it and will it atone to anything besides a few chuckles?

I am not your subordinate for you to dictate whether I can talk or not.

I am not your superior for you to drop to your knees and apologize.

I am however a student yearning to be taught, opening my heart and soul to this while you are my doctor, who's suppose to be the epitome of reliability and trust.

Guess, that's gone now.

Kampung No More!

When I came here in October 2008, I remember shedding a tear or two when I saw the dirty roads, the collapsed remnants of bridges and the odd pointy nosed people that reminded me...

You're no longer in Kuala Lumpur, let alone Malaysia.

But for the sake of my education, my independence, and my laziness to continue A-Levels in Sunway *GAH, I hate A-Level Chemistry. Die vile thing... DIE!!!*, I decided to suck it up and stay in Mansoura, the town where their favourite words include "Honga bonga", "What is your name?" and "Apa khabar? (Get a thesaurus you douchebags)

But for most, including me, it was the adapting that was pretty difficult. Being in Malaysia for so long, it was the first time I lived in a place without a McDonald's, a CD store, hawker stalls, 24-Hour Mamak restaurants and of course.... Starbucks *Oh, how we love the Bucks of Star*

However, today, after almost of a year of planting my feet onto the soil of Mansoura, I have seen that miracles do come true. Globalization is as it's name suggest, misses no country, no city and no town. This includes the "Kuala Lumpur 70-years-ago and if everyone spoke Arabic and had no fashion sense" Mansoura.

According to a Semester 5 senior, this miracle building was ready about a month ago, a couple of weeks before I arrived. It was like they knew! They knew that I was going to blow my brains out from the lack of technological progress that this country oh-so-needs and they saved me from my impending suicide *this is a joke, just kidding, I'm not at all depressed*

Anyway, wondering what is this sensational miracle I'm talking about?

I give you...

Behold!

Yes, bow to the Awadalla, you mere mortals.

Haha, it's the first large supermarket (or hypermarket) in Mansoura.

I've found my new hangout place :)

*Yes, we are that pathetic*

When Dora and I got there, we were ECSTATIC.

Like how I felt when I saw the snow capped mountains of Kyoto.

Except this was like a liberation from this archaic town that has probably seen it's fair share of history in the making.

So we all entered *after taking pictures like idiots* into the hypermarket, and I literally gasped.

I GASPED.

Ah, so many things.

So properly arranged, so mannered, so bloody unbelievable.

I could feel myself literally swelling up with pride thinking;

"Hey, this dead town still has some life to it"

I bought a piping kit *to make cupcakes* and some other rubbish that swindled more money from me.

We *Dora, Farah, Baby, Fira and me* hung out at the bakery, where the annoying waiter kept trying to convince us that he loves us Malaysians.

Ooh, and we had cheesecakes.*Yes, I know I'm suppose to be on a diet, but you shall not deny yourself fruits of God's miracles! :P*

The place reminds me of Carrefour, the one I use to go to in Wangsa Maju when I was younger. The place where I would scramble to find a baju kurung for Eid cause my mum forgot to send the cloth to the tailor. Good times :)

But seriously...

This is a good step for you Mansoura.

More progress leads to a better global recognition of this small but educationally potent town.

Hopefully one day, we'll come back, old and cracked, to the land of Mansoura...

To see a small, glimmering neon light in green that says.

Pelita Nasi Kandar.