Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
It is a very much messed up demand from them as just the thought of packing and carrying our things from our third floored house to another block about a hundred metres away makes us want to buy anti-depressant pills by bulk.
Not only that, the amount of money we spent to make our dire living condition livable - we bought our own fans, shelves and tables, practically the basic necessities that should be provided for us when we paid our Rm400 rent.
And now, just when we're about to feel like "living with 17 girls and 7 girls in the living room ain't so bad after all", they decided to take this precious happy, warm feeling away from us.
And the reason for such cruel action?
The Big Boss is dropping by. BPG. BPG can't possibly see what kind of living condition they put us into, right? Especially those unfortunate newcomers who had to practically sleep on the floor? Of course they can't! They have an almighty reputation to take care of! And what if BPG finds out that the students aren't well 'racially-integrated'? The blasphemy! It will go against what our MOE have been preaching!
Hence the EMERGENCY EVACUATION.
So anyways, this is my new room now:
I have to admit that despite all my bitterness and reluctance to move out, I do sure think this is a way, way better conditioned room. I finally can eat properly on a table and chair and get up from my bed without jumping over its post.
But of course, a student's room here isn't complete without his or her photograph, telephone number and identification card number plastered in front of his or her door. It will be easier for them to track us down, I mean, contact us in case of an emergency.
One interesting thing about this block is that it was once the boys' hostel. Just when I was about to try a hand at peeing standing up at their urinal wall, to my dismay, it had been sealed/removed/destroyed of all evidence that it was once a place where boys surreptitiously (or not) peeked at each others dick.
But then I saw this:
Guess I'm the only girl with such twisted desire. Sigh.
In short, it sucks to be under a reputation-conscious totalitarian regime but I guess it's not so bad after all moving to a different block where there's proper rooms. But I'm gonna miss my 17 roommates very much, and my 7 living-roommates.
Oh wait, they're here too.
And oh, this building is right beside the boys' block. So we get front row seats in case they streak across their corridor. Yay!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
You'll never know what you'll get
But what if it runs out of chocolates?
Life will just be a big box of emptiness
Humans are like ants
Always in pursuit of something sweet
So marched forward an ant to that box of chocolate
But falls back in despair to see there's nothing in it
Trapped in the box, it begins to suffocate
Choking for air in the dark it searches
Treading through obstacles of bittersweet crumbs
To find a way out, to find its happiness
And if it doesn't, it will just sit in the corner
Waiting for the day when the lid will be lifted
And if that day doesn't ever come
It will just die - in the stale waft of chocolates.
Friday, July 24, 2009
34 crazy kids of the Cohort 3 B.ed TESL marched into a paintball arena, full of excitement and fear.
And geared up for an experience we'll never forget.
Plus two more less gruesome injuries on my finger and elbow.
BUT I WOULD SO, SO, SO WANT TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Where her ugly frog turns into a handsome prince
But was she supposed to be envious
To not have a normal real love story?
To love is to forgive and to forget
The wreckage is over, she got her happy ending
She has forgiven, and she has forgotten
But why does the past still makes her feel so heart broken?
Maybe she's masochistic in nature
Instead of embracing a bright happy future
She torments herself with ghost of the past –
Putting her happy ending in grave danger
Will it really be a happy ending
When she still can’t let go of her unhappy beginning?
Maybe she has forgiven, but she hasn’t yet forgotten
Or maybe she has forgotten -
But hasn't yet forgiven.
She really wishes she could let it go
To reminisce without feeling stabbed
To believe in her own fairy tale
And to not give a fuck bout how it all began.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
So, the score was 3-2.
Probably, if you think that Man U really, really suck.
Expected, if you think that Man U was just being really, really nice.
For me, I believe it's the latter, and it is not because I champion MU.
It's because I believe in a conspiracy theory, a marketing gimmick, superficiality and sore losers from those involved.
Did the people who come to watch the game paid to see and support Malaysia in delusional hopes that they could eventually rise and beat the Red Devils?
Or did they just spend their money to see our team get trashed by the EPL giants? Politely accomplished yesterday; and merciless tomorrow?
~ The Star
Congratulations, buddy. You've made us proud.
Probably I've become a full blown cynic to believe in "Malaysia Boleh", and ignorant all these while about the fact that our Malaysian football team HAS greatly improved.
But if they really did greatly improve, and there was no conspiracy theory AT ALL involved, I'd like to congratulate them properly, minus the sarcasm, and wish them all well for the second game.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
There is no joy, no satisfaction, no appreciation.
You eat to live. You need those carbs to be converted to energy. To be able to just live.
I don't eat.
I just swallow. Wishing I could spit it out.
Wait, that came out wrong.
But you know what I mean.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Of course not my dear teacher trainer friend!
We, as future teachers are trained to OBEY rules. So we obey them. How, you ask?
A big bag is the key to achieve our objective.
It is used to dump these exact clothes that you're wearing (minus your underwear).
"And walk around in City Square in my underwear?!" you ask? Of course not!
We obey the rules by dressing appropriately when we step out of the premise. But who said anything about dressing appropriately when you're already out?
'Coz you're looking all hot and unmarmish under your previous clothes! Once you've crossed over to the other happier side, that is.
Just make sure your incognito clothes are bigger than your real outing clothes. And NEVER, EVER forget to put your incognito clothes back on before you enter the premise when you come back.
Friday, July 10, 2009
The bigger card will be placed on the door of our lovely setinggan.
Both cards contain the student's identification number and also mobile phone number.
Now I feel so much safer knowing that my private data will be in the hand of strangers and for all to see.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Let's start with my hostel first. This was my supposed room:
It has no ceiling fan and a wardrobe. But I managed to swap with a friend for a better room:
But it comes with a twist:
I'm bunking with another 16 roommates. And they only gave us a stupid bed and a wardrobe. We HAD to get our own shelves and tables. Hence the table on my bed.
See, the remaining empty rooms in this awesome teacher's training college are reserved for the later intakes.
So they crammed us in a former hostel warden's house that has been cleared out.
And yeah, that's the living room. I'm sleeping in a living room. For the next 600 days. And in IPTI GMT, that'll make about say, ETERNITY?
Now let me share with you the rules and regulations here. It has only been three days but it's already choking the life out of us.
- There's a pseudo assembly every Monday morning where a random student will be pre-chosen to read his/her prewritten speech for us to (not) listen to. And we have to sing patriotic songs to instill patriotism and nationalism in us so that we would be better government slaves I mean servants in the future.
- We have "senamrobik" every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday morning to keep us healthy in body and mind and have the will to continue to just live. Which is also a ploy to get us to class half an hour earlier.
- Every Friday, the Muslims will have their religious class/'ceramah' and the non-Muslims are confined in a space to be moralised in a moral class/'ceramah' to produce teachers with higher morality. And perhaps mortality.
- Every Friday too, is our beloved weekly real assembly. And it starts at 2.45 p.m. and ends at 4.45 p.m. Swell, isn't it?!
- And the 'no jeans' rules has been implemented again, 'coz you know, wearing jeans signifies that you belong to a devil cult, and they don't want any of their teachers to be involved or have the slightest connection to this cult, do they?
It's been too long being here, and yet I haven't learned about the other dumb rules. I'll tell you when they start restricting breathing.
My parents had warned me, "Whatever you do, do not fight the system. Just bear with it." Being the good girl that I am, I haven't of course. Yet. But a couple of my classmates have already been in rows with the ever almighty security guards. They don't just guard this sacred, high moral conscious institute, but also find faults on students. One example is when my friend wanted to drive her car in, they won't let her in 'coz she doesn't have the grand IPTI car sticker. But they just won't believe that you have to enter the place first, before being able to get the sticker. But they're probably just insecure. And bitter.
As for my lecturers, they were just a bucket of joy. We'd be crazy not to get those who are lazy, pretentious, racist, forever PMSing and of course, who can barely speak the language of our course. We'd learn so much!
As a moral institution, it is their sole duty to suck out students' happiness, including their money. To make a 'pas keluar masuk' (yes, it's easier for them to stalk us) and 'kad nama bilik' (they just love us that much) costs RM10. And the 'pas keluar masuk' was only RM2 two years ago. There was also a hint for us to buy 'insurance' for the previous two years that we weren't here. And all these money goes to every intricate tilings of pillars and gate wall, the beautifully architected 'pondok', the grand guard/fault-finder house, an internet-less "student centre" and the massive hall for our pseudo assembly. And here we are, wishing we had a real room to ourselves.
Last, but of course not least (boy, there'll be more coming), trying to get an internet connection here is a vain act.
And that is why, I bleed my pockets to get me the Celcom Broadband so I can finally get connected to a much happier, happier world.
And also, so I can finally share with you my dismal life here and for you to be thankful that you never got to experience such morbidity in your tertiary academic level life.
And yes, I am utterly depressed, I'm out of sunshine, time actually stops here and I just need to vent it all out else I crack and jump off the balcony of my third floor house and die on the perfectly manicured lawn of the land of IPTI.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Two years of bliss has just flashed by, without me realising it.
It is just like a fuzzy memory now, a blur of visions. It was so good you pinched yourself to make sure it's real. I felt the pain, as it was real. And now it has become surreal.
And now, it's back to the place I loath the most.
I pinched myself to wake up from this impending nightmare.
Unfortunately, I felt the pain. It's as real as it gets.
Welcome injustice, absurdity and rebellion.
The first time I went to the Pejabat Pendidikan Daerah, they had a meeting, and I wasn't appropriately dressed. And wearing an M sized collared tee with dark jeans and minimal makeup (skipped the mascara, wing-lined eyes and lip gloss) makes up "inappropriate".
The second time I went to the PPD again, I was dressed so appropriate you would laugh your ass off to see me make an effort; i.e. a pretentious ass licker - for this time, I wore my lucky purple baju kurung. But they had a meeting again.
The third time, I couldn't be bothered wearing a kerongsang to conceal the plunging neckline of the so-called sopan clothes I'm wearing. It's the same purple baju kurung anyway. But they had a meeting. AGAIN.
HOWEVER, fourth time's a charm though. He/She raised the white flag. My obstinacy and I successfully tampered with Fate.
I finally got to meet the dude who's supposedly in charge of guaranteeing me a post in a school in my hometown. He's friendly, willing to key in my name into their database and I think I scored brownie points when he found out I'm in the same wretched teacher's training college as he was.
BUT. Fate is sneaky. Fate can't admit defeat yet.
For he said Tulid is in DIRE need of English teachers.
Sounds like a nice place, huh? Sounds like tulip...but I had no idea where it is situated, nor do I even know such a place exists.
Luckily it's still detectable by Google Satelite.
If Fate is not being funny.
But then again, is this what I really want? To be comfortable in my own familiar place or to venture to the unknown wilderness, jungle or urban?
Let's see what is Fate's Plan B for me.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The young man had to be rushed to the Lister Hospital in Stevenage, Hertfordshire. The wound was disinfected to cleanse it before he was given a bed in an observation ward.
"This is something we would advise men never to attempt," a medic said, "The results can be quite horrific and long-lasting and have quite an affect on a man's sexual performance.
"Using a pair of nail clippers must have caused excruciating pain, even if he had had a few drinks beforehand."
First of all...WHY?!
Didn't he have enough money to pay a professional doctor to do it using professional circumsizing tools?
Was he promised kinky hot sex if only he was circumsized, hence immediately rummaged his sister's/girlfriend's/mother's manicure bag?
Did he have an epiphany that life is too short to not be reckless and live crazy for once, hence circumcizing himself with a nail clipper coz it would definitely top bungee jumping or jumping off a plane?
I'd destroy and melt down that tainted, corrupted, impure nail clipper and bury it deep down in the cold earth so that it won't ever see the sun ever again - if I was the owner.
The poor little nail clipper had seen too much.