So, this self-important blog shall begin with a really life-changing statement like: I HAD A HAIRCUT. Not a trim, not shoulder length. A freakin' haircut so short you can see the back of my neck when I don't tie it up kind of haircut. It's so short, I can't even wear a hairband without it flinging out from my hair. Just an exaggeration. Not that it matters.

I feel like an Indonesian maid sometimes, with the cut. Struggled with the hair wax. What the hell am I supposed to do with it? It's not like some sort of innate behavior where when one gets hold of hair wax in their hands, they will automatically style their hair into a messy but ultimately stylish mob of keratin and will be all set for an overnight party in a stranger's bachelor penthouse overlooking the city.

I guess the plus points in getting a really short haircut is that:

(1) I can feel wind on my neck. And the back of my neck. And the front of my neck. You get it?

(2) The horrible acne (possibly caused by the friction from my urgh-ly long hair which used to cover my neck) might FINALLY decide to stop manifesting my face. Hello hormones, will you please stop raging pls. I need to feel sexy for once in my whole entire life and yes acne, I am breaking up with you and I'm not expecting you to break out. Thank you.

(3) I'll be mistaken for a boy, and if the female toilets are full (as they usually are), I can just discretely make my way into the gents. Probably need to bind the boobies and stop wearing eyeliner. Or just grow a mustache.

(4) Apparently, I look taller. I'm guessing it's the long neck. Any longer I can tie in a knot or in a bow, throw them over my shoulder. What am I thinking?

(5) I can't think of reason #5. Oh right, no split ends. Yay?

Time to get a social life, loser

Huda

I don't need company, in the company of you.

"What makes your problem any bigger than everyone else's?"
"They're mine."



Hi, am still alive and kicking. At the same time, stressing and dying internally, sadly. Not a single day of break for this week. And apparently the timetable has changed to 9am to 6pm for me. EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. If you've seen me in school, you would know how much of a wreck I look like. I don't think slabbing on concealer would help. Plus, knowing my totally awesome skin, I might even get pimples on my eyebags.

(Think positive. Life is good.)

I thought I had more to say but I guess not. Fatigue totally eating up every inch of personality or brain I have. I ran out of words because I used them all up in the essays, portfolios, SDL assignments I have to write. I want to be funny but I can't.

So tired.

Tired.

Zzzz.





Zzzz.

Do they know that all the work they are giving us could and would compromise our motivation do any form of work at all.


So tired. Zzzz.

I wouldn't look like this now. I wouldn't constantly feel sorry for myself. I might have a social life. My parents would love me. I am able to wear anything and look good in them. I wouldn't have to be funny around people. I can make people do my work for me, without them saying anything bad behind me. I can get away with murder. I'll have random strangers asking for my number, just because they think I'm pretty. I could have been a model. I won't cry because of my acne breakout (which never seem to go away at present). I can cry and people would want to comfort me. I can screw up and people will tell me, "It's okay". I would attract people to buy cheese fries from me during CCN Day. I would get a lot of surprises and presents on my birthday. I would have friends. I would have a boyfriend.

And I would not feel like shit. Every bloody day.

Fated to be a loser for all of eternity.

Worn out from all the wear and tear. For some unknown reason am on the verge of tears now. My body is really adjusting poorly to all this work, lack of sleep and poor diet. My neck is really hot and the rashes are back. My face looks like a whole planet is living on it. All the more reasons to cry. It's a way of releasing bottled up emotions. Can't turn to violence, I'm not angry. Can't turn to writing, I'm not sad. Music and company can only do so much.

Maybe I need sleep.

Having the mother of all headaches and the cause - an extensive to-do list with so much things to do in a week, I wish I would just stop complaining and get them done. Or a day of mindless shopping with some rich guy's credit card. Any and everything to get my mind of this. If it gets really bad, I'm going to drug myself with paracetamol. Not kidding. So overwhelmed - by absolutely nothing.

Dreamt of drinking alcohol and eating this really yummy BBQ chicken drumstick, visually plus the taste. Both tasted really good for some unknown reason. It's weird because 1) I've never tried alcohol before and 2) I don't like eating anything with bone(s). It tasted so good in my dream. Tempted. Oh well, shall make myself a cup of peppermint tea.

-----



Sara doing a cover of Weezer's 'Tired Of Sex' with Matt Sharp on bass. So good. The Weezer version is on repeat on my playlist. Why the hell didn't I get into Weezer before this?

I'm tired, so tired
I'm tired of having sex (so tired)
I'm spread so thin
I don't know who I am (who I am)

Monday night I'm makin' Jen
Tuesday night I'm makin' Lyn
Wednesday night I'm makin' Catherine
Oh, why can't I be makin' Love come true?

I'm beat, beet red
ashamed of what I said (what I said)
I'm sorry, here I go
I know I'm a sinner
but I can't say no (say no)

Thursday night I'm makin' Denise
Friday night I'm makin' Therese
Saturday night I'm making Louise
Oh, why can't I be making Love come true?

Tonight, I'm down on my knees
Tonight, I'm beggin' you please
Tonight, tonight it bleeds
Oh why can't I be makin' Love come true?

No intentions of making new year's resolutions because they never last. 2009 was one of my worst year yet and I can only hope this year will be good. Also, am already in the third year of tertiary. I'm wondering what the heck have I been spending my two years doing. And, just realised how well I am able to express myself when I'm feeling down and depressed but can barely find the words to describe happy moments and situations. Off to watch Dead Poet's Society now.


Time to get a life,

Huda.

I promise I won't linger long online. Just needed the inspiration.

Anyhoos, got the sudden urge to read my old diary (from 2004) and wow, I didn't know how obsessed I was with this senior. I made a shrine of his name and all that lovesick shit that stupid girls do. No, I didn't engrave his name on a huge rock or anything. Just doodled on a piece of paper - his name x infinity. Plus, writing kiddy, silly poems.

But I must admit, reading through the diary did remind me of innocent memories of the past which normal non-diary-writing people might forget. It's sad really. Whatever happened to our innocence? I even have a whole entry of things I like in a guy (eg. tanned, cute smile, pretty eyes and spiky hair). HAHAHAHA. Funny how our taste change huh. I'm probably going to compile all of my diaries and blog posts and turn it into a bestselling book of some sort. (NOT!)

Extract from the bestselling book 'Huda is a nerd'

Dear diary,
The reason why I'm writing this is cause I'm just plain old bored. B-O-R-E-D, put it together and you'll get BORED. Surely you'll be bored reading this boring diary entry by a boring person feeling bored. You bored already? I just realised I wrote at least once the word bored/boring in each sentence. So, let me continue my boring story. Enjoy being bored! Why are you even reading this boring diary entry? Maybe cause you're bored too. Is there a way to stop/prevent boredom? I know one way is to go out with friends that are not boring. Reading a boring book won't help at all. Playing a boring computer game just bored me more. This boredom is making me hungry. Aiyoh! I guess I better end this now. Bye!

Wow, 5 years didn't make much of a difference huh.


Back to reality,

Huda.

I don't see the point in texting people about assignment now because Christmas is nearing and there are people who celebrate and well, they wouldn't give a damn. So, I'll wait until the 26th to tell them the shit amount of work that needs to be done.

5 possible reasons why one MUST go overseas during shit breaks like this

#1 People have no means of communicating with you and they wouldn't want to bug you. So all the dickheads staying in Singapore will do the worrying for you and do all your work, until you come back. Those suckers!

#2 Also, you get to go a different country (and unless you travel a lot), it's always something new to look at and eventually you might forget about stupid things that you left at home - the assignments, the boyfriend you want to break up with, the bestfriend who slept with your boyfriend (and possibly still is), your pet rock, your sorry excuse of a study table and, did I mention assignments?

#3 A means to shop and eat every and anything you want because you're overseas and apparently, it's cheaper or more worth it to buy it there. Just because it's overseas.

#4 Escaping from the painful fact that your life is seriously mundane and the only thing that makes you cooler than your peers is the fact that your blog is updated daily. And the posts are about being cool, and all the other things that socially-inclined people usually do not bother posting about.

#5 You get to dress-up, take photos, and tag yourself on your newly uploaded pictures on facebook. While your group mates slug it out trying to complete the motherfking assignment you didn't help with.

I'll set off on a new chase, I gotta see a new face, I need to take a holiday,

Huda.