I want to be the best person I could ever be

I can't seem to think of anything remotely interesting that I would want to write about.And I way prefer literally writing.Because.I type.So.Slow

And I am getting boring-er now.so so boring,This is what exams do to you.

And,how would I be expected to conjure up seemingly interesting anecdotes of my life when in honest,brutal reality, there is nothing going on with my life?Of course with the exception of Afiqah(who can by actual fact make every single gray day of my life turn a shade rainbowy) THAT'S RIGHT,EVEN WHEN I'M FRUSTRATED AT YOUR BLURNESS, BITCH

Mostly I think it's the computer screen.I can't seem to let my train of thoughts follow through when there is blank white page in front of me,spoiling my eyes and contributing to myopia -.-
Hurts my back,too. The computer is hindering my creative writing process!
I am so cut away from technology,I'll hardly survive if I don't do much about it.
(I have twitter :P)


Today I have ranted simply about nothing

Seven little numbers baby this could be a start

I feel like a traveling salesman even though I am a woman

Some songs go back in your memories ,go so far back,that a single line from it catapults you back in time.Amazing how memories are created, and etched so deeply in your mind.
It's beautiful.

There is no passion in this culling of things

Bring into your compromise, and among other things-aren't we all advocates to our own misery?

I get older by the day

This new blog layout is so frustrating to use. Ok, granted I decided to start writing in December,and then I lost interest only to start again,but ohmygod how time flies and how everything's changed.

Haha a lot has changed.

I can probably never post another rant about netball training,because I have long since stepped down.But I miss it.So badly.I'd die,just for that feeling again, the wind in your hair when you sprint,so hungry for the ball.The smell of sweat-mixed in with anticipation,the thirst for glory,that burning in your thighs, the glare of opponents,the screaming of the coach,the screech of rubber soles on wood- paved floor.I'd give whatever to relive that sensation.

I can't,I guess.I have too many things to do.

Well now that I am officially 16...well that's it. I'm just 16.I didn't feel any different that 2 May,that morning when I woke up strangely early.I didn't have that dramatic feeling of a a transformation from a fifteen year old to a sixteen year old.Guess some things don't change. I wanted to tell the world something cliche and expected like,oh hey I can finally watch NC16 movies. But that's a fib.I don't even watch movies. I am just 16 year old iiman :) Though, I never expected my birthday to be so widely celebrated this year.I've never had my Birthday remembered by so many people. Why are people so nice.

This year,(though it's already May),I've met certain special people,and I thank Allah for this blessing.
Who would have thought,from that day-one year and one month back,i saw this very person and promptly forgot about the latter,only to have that memory of this now current friend,pushed forth in it's almost reluctant prominance from the back of my mind,in such a way that when this person walked into that room that morning,I remembered this person. Who would have thought. And now look,we are such good friends. The most special of it's kind. I am so blessed.

But Afiqah is number one.

I have my O levels,omgggggggg. I was planning to start on my prelim study timetable next week,because I come home early after 4 hours straight of hardcore Mother Tongue. Apparently,teachers are kiasu as hell and  each one thinks their subject is the most important,so they very craftily slide in remedials and tests after the 4 hour sessions of hell, in total oblivion of  the fact that we would have just finished a mentally straining lesson.

As Afiqah,Nat&Sya would say, "Demi prelims, mah. After O levels kita celebrate"

And after O levels,celebrate we will.

Salam,
iiman