Hairdo's Don'ts

Hairdo's Don'ts

I swear, there is nothing more liberating than a new haircut. I often read that a new haircut on any women signifies a major change in her life, namely a new found love, or a new intersest, a new direction in life, a new resolution, etc. As for me, I simply needed a change in my somewhat currentlt stagnant state of being. I hadn't exactly planned on it either. In fact, I was on a mission to save my locks for as long as possible, but when my mom asked if I wanted to join her at the salon, I found my head eagerly bobbing up and down.

Of all the salons I've been to, J&M has to be the best yet. The owner (a lady whose name I can never seem to store in my memory) always greets us with a smile and an offer of her Chinese tea ( which I drink solely out of respect for her, not for the taste). Thankfully, she'll be attending to me for today, since it's always easier to relate what I want to her, as compared to the new girls.

The shampoo girl must be new. The way she's working my scalp, it'll be flake free for the rest of the year, I'm sure. Just when I was about ready to beg her to stop, she taps my shoulder and directed me to the wash basin. Now here comes the scissors and comb. I decided to go for something radical this time. Boy, I'm really hard up for change! I can see my mom glancing sideways nervously at me. Oh well, what's life if you don't live on the wild side every once in a while, right?

Hakim

Hakim

My baby brother turned double digits yesterday. I bought him Lemony Snickett’s Book the Seventh, adding to his collection, something I knew he’d like. The way he calmly thanked everybody made me wonder if that was the right gift for him, he seemed so grown up.

I miss the little brat who used to bug me to go riding with him. Now he goes of cycling with his buddies. Same goes with swimming, playing tag, etc. He doesn’t need me to read him bedtime stories anymore. Now he turns on my reading light and reads himself. I miss his little giggles, his chubby little fingers and stubby toes.

My baby bro’s a big boy now.

All those years gone by, where did they go?

as I was 

as i am 

Major Success, major blunder.

I've finally managed to change the skin, phew! It took a lot of tries and a lot of frustration. Well that is expected, since I chose to plunge into this endeavour all by myself. There isn't really anyone around to help either. Anywho, I think I've got the hang of it. The basics, I mean - changing features, links, headers, etc. However, I have somehow removed the link for posting comments. I've been trying to fix that, but to no avail. Damn. Well, this ain't the end of it. I'll be back, hopefully, with the comments link. Ciao.

What's In A Name?

Nothing to blog for today so....

I went on a "Shazlin-hunt" on the net. Among the interesting finds (besides the dozen or so blogs by people of the same name and bumping into my fotoblog a few times) is this Kabalarian Philosophy site. I think it's Jewish (Kabala-rian), but what the heck, I'll just do it for fun.

"Description of Your First Name of: Shazlin

Although the name Shazlin creates the urge to be creative, independent, and self-sufficient, we point out that it causes a materialistic, somewhat self-opinionated approach that frustrates higher humanitarian qualities. This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the reproductive organs, and tension or accidents to the head.

The name Shazlin creates a very independent, practical, analytical nature with skillful business abilities. You desire freedom from restrictions and authority in order that you can pursue your own ambitions. This name gives you leadership qualities and you are seldom happy in positions where you must direction from others. Material and financial success are the focus of your interests, but sacrificing much for material ambition will result in a lack of harmony and balance in your personal life, particularly a lack of appreciation for social courtesies and things of a more inspirational nature."

I think it's a load of bull, though.

It's you who makes the name, not the other way around. Of course, in Islam, a name does have an effect on an individual's personality, but to this detailed extent? I don't think so.

It's just plain ridiculous to me.

Regrets, more regrets, damn regrets.

Why can't I seem to say, do the right thing at the right moment?

I am always looking back on some incident wishing I'd said something more, or something better, or just said something. But that moment is past and it's a done deed. No joy in that.

Would it have made things any better if I'd been prepared with the right speech, the right response, the right reaction? Perhaps things were meant to turn out the way they did, and any intervention in that order would have disrupted the reality of how things happen.

It's like that phonecall. That single phonecall is what I look forward to each week. Yet, everytime my phone rings and that number appears, I dread even picking it up. Not because I didn't want to speak to the person at the other end of the line. No, not at all. But because after each call, I'd regret the whole conversation. I'd regret not having said what I should have said, what I actually meant to say, or having said too much and revealing too much of what I wanted kept hidden. Everytime I hung up the phone, there was this queesy feeling of having made all those mistakes and what the consequences will be.

Maybe the issue here is honesty. If I'd been simply honest, I might not have had to be so guarded about myself.

But then, if I don't guard my own sanctity, who will?

Maggots!!

What a nice thing to wake up to.
I was still in a haze, preparing breakfast in the final hours of dawn, when I noticed the ants.
There were clusters of them on the floor in the utility room. Upon tracing their little trail, I discovered the cause for their communion - nasty maggots.
I was purely disgusted to the highest degree! My mother has been out of town since Monday, hence not much cooking has been done, hence less garbage. I remebered that the last time anyone has taken the garbage out was last Tuesday. Yuck. Now it's infested with maggots and I have to clean it up.
The first thing I did was to spray those little infesting freaks with enough insecticide to for them to swim in. They were all over the place, causing me to swear enough for God to keep me in hell for all eternity (I have fully repented since then, I swear). Then I left them to marinate in it for a few hours, to make sure they are all R.I.P.
Next came the task of cleaning up the dead bodies. The broom and dust pan came in very handy for this. I got chills up and down my spine just feeling them roll around in the dust pan. Purely disgusting.
A few more of them appeared an hour ago and got picked up with wads of tissue paper instead, less painful, maybe. I seem to have become immune to them. There is, however, this permanent grimace stuck on my face.
Damn those maggots. I'm sure those creepy crawlies play some kind of role on earth, but I sure as hell don't see it.
I personally prefer them banished to the core of the planet.
Yuck.

This and that

*sigh*Another boring day. My dad suggested that I go to the library, grab a book, have coffee somewhere, treat my soul. He's afraid I might have abandoned my reading habit. It's not a habit, dad, it's a hobby. He's unaware that I spend at least half-an-hour every night reading before I go to bed. I decide to do up my hair and traipse around the house in a pretty lil' dress instead. Makes me feel absolutely shallow,like Paris Hilton on the farm, minus the the starve-yourself-to-death figure and the dirty blonde hair. I love my jet-black hair. I think it's a blessing that Asians are naturally born with black hair. I don't think any other hair colour would've looked good on Asian skin. In fact, I personally think black is the all-true hair colour for any skin colour. Except for maybe those born with the pasty-white-but-not-quite-dead complexion. Black would probably enhance their death-like appearance.
Hmm...duty calls. Suddenly, I seem to have a lot to say from a day spent doing nothing.*Point to ponder*

Jagged little pill

When I failed to get into the degree course with the rest of my friends, many took it as a surprise (I know some thought it to be fully deserving).

"Hah, tak dapat? Apesal plak?" At times it was a source of pride, most times, a source of mortification. There's nothing like being reminded of your failure (at least) ten times a day and having to explain yourself, over the phone, online, in the face.

I must admit, I had my sights set on other nations as the venue of my next alma matter. As I watched my chances of getting into the skool get thinner, my resolve to 'fly' got stronger. But it is, nonetheless, a failure on my part, on not making the list.

I made the mistake of meeting them all on the registration day. Stupid. Everyone was inevitably busy filling in forms, choosing subjects, moving in, finding roomies. They tried to include me in all of it, I was grateful for that. But mean is mean. I felt left out all the same.

In the following weeks, they tried keeping me in the loop, as much as they can. Did they feel sorry for me? God, I hope not.

Gossips filled my inbox on a daily basis. It was almost like old times, except I wasn't there. In the beginning it was easy to imagine I was still part of things, I can still keep up despite the distance. After a while, I got tired, they got busy.

When Amy told me they were goin to the beach after exams were over, going bowling, etc., my first impulse was to run down there and join in the fun. I still want to.

But then I realized, I am not part of that anymore. I still want to be, they still try to make me, but reality doesn't agree. I guess that's the dilemma here. My dilemma. To be part of something. What? The answer to that, I can't figure out yet.

Sure, I am doing something here, a little bit of something. But it doesn't beat the comfort of companionship.

Maybe that's what's bothering me so much.

Loneliness.

Tioman Island Escapade