Viva La Coldplay or Chris and All His Fans (Namely, me and my siblings)

(Kindly ignore the colony of pimples breeding on my face, as well as my disgustingly yellowing talons, not to mention my infamously fugly eyebrows)

AISYA and AWI (her boyfriend) finally BOUGHT the NEW COLDPLAY ALBUM VIVA LA VIDA or DEATH AND ALL HIS FRIENDS a couple of days ago at ROCK CORNER in ONE UTAMA, and I am over the moon, sun and stars with happiness!!!

yippeyipeeyipeeDOOO!

I’m sure some of you are wondering ‘what’s she so happy about? Didn’t her sister download the whole album from a Justin Timberlake forum weeks ago?’

Well, yeah, KakAisya did download the album on the 6th of June from a Justin Timberlake forum. (And in case you’re also wondering ‘Umm, why Justin Timberlake?’ the answer is: it’s a long story regarding Coldplaying.com’s rules about leaking albums on their website, so the users decided to leak it on JT’s forum, instead, since Chris once mentioned that their latest album was inspired by Justin Himself. Told you it was a long story). She’s even written a two thousand word review of it here on her blog. And, yeah, I have been listening to the album over and over again since that day, to the extent that I’ve already identified what, in my opinion, are the Fillers, and the Masterpieces.

But having the original CD itself means that I can rip it all at 320kb/s Variable Bit Rate MP3 straight to my MP3 Player!!! No more having to listen to it at 128kb/s WMA *shudder*!!

[You see, ever since my cat Boon (short for Baboon) jumped onto the speakers of my Hifi and pretty much smashed it up by making it topple over, I’ve had to resort to my MP3 player if I want to listen to my music with real sound quality. I miss the speakers and Surround Sound :-( ]

Colplay mean a lot to me and my siblings. Before Coldplay, we didn’t really understand the beauty of music. Not that I’m saying we didn’t listen to music – of course we did. Just not quality music.

By the early, lollipop-sucking, front-teeth-missing age of 8, my friends and I could be found heartfully singing Spice Girls songs and proclaiming Girl Power during break time at Cheetham Community School, Manchester. We dominated the junior playground with our fabulous (or so we blissfully thought) renditions of hit singles such as ‘2 Become 1’ and ‘Mama’. And it didn’t end there; at home, my sisters and I all had our Spice Girls Alter Ego such as Pretty Spice and Witty Spice. I was Accent Spice (don’t ask – I was 8, okay?).

(From left to right: Posh Spice, Scary Spice, Baby Spice, Sporty Spice and Ginger Spice. Not in Picture: Pretty Spice, Witty Spice and Accent Spice)

When we came to Malaysia in 1998, the music scene rapidly changed in the Shurfa Clan, splitting it into two tribes. Your loyalties either lied with KakAmnah; an avid supporter of *NSYNC who thought JC Chasez was the hottest man alive, and would abruptly burst out singing ‘This I Promise You” with all its cheesy chest-thumping galore, or with KakAisya; a diehard fan of Backstreet Boys who would wax limericks regarding the beauty of Kevin Richardson into her diary, and soulfully moan the chorus (or just Kevin’s parts) of ‘Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely’. And then there was me and my devoted love to Britney Spears and her Virgin Image (remember those days? *snigger*). While KakAmnah made JC in the Sims and married him, KakAisya made Kevin and married him. Me? I just played Britney Spears (and weirdly turned her into a lesbian – a diehard fan’s unexpected glimpse into the bleak future of her idol, maybe?).

But the era of cheesy pop, manufactured bands and lyrics sprinkled with trademark phrases such as ‘baby’ and ‘promise’ and, of course, ‘love’ ended (thankfully) within the Shurfa Clan with the debut of Coldplay into our lives.

It started out unassumingly enough; I found myself humming ‘Yellow’ instead of ‘Stronger’ during the torturous hours of PJ, when my friends and I would skulk off elsewhere to not play Netball. KakAmnah stopped writing out lyrics of [insert cheesy *NSYNC song] onto her homemade bookmarks, and instead wrote Yellow. KakAisya, instead of replaying the end bit of Drowning over and over again, would spend an afternoon arguing over how Yellow and Trouble actually sounded alike.

Our allegiance to all that is Pop finally ended with The Scientist coming out on MTV. Who could forget that song, and the video of Chris walking backwards? KakAisya thought the video was amazing and tragic – I thought it was just weird and would always laugh at that bit when Chris’s hairy stomach peaks out. KakAmnah was still hooked on Yellow.

But Aisya ended up buying A Rush of Blood To The Head and playing it on the Hifi every day, so I ended up growing to love Coldplay, too. It was inevitable, of course, since the soaring vocals of Chris Martin, shimmering guitar-playing of Jon Buckland, sexy bass-playing of Guy Berryman, and rhythmic drum-bashing of Will Champion could be heard throughout the house almost every day.

What can I say? Everything about Coldplay is just perfect; the soul in Chris’s voice as he croons ‘Come on, oh my star is fading/And I see no chance of release’ in the beautiful album-ender Amsterdam (I always think Chris sounds best when he’s singing low – his falsetto in ‘Fix You’ makes me cringe), Jon’s glorious guitar strums in ‘Viva La Vida’ that make your heart beat just a little faster when it suddenly appears, Guy’s prominent bass-humping in ‘White Shadows, and, of course Will with his omnipresent drums to keep up the beat of every song.

Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends is, in my opinion, the best album yet. Coldplay’s latest fare is a combination of all three previous albums, with a dollop of Something Shiny and New. It has a bit of the quiet, down-to-earth minimalism of Parachutes and A Rush of Blood, as well as the BIG, electronic sound of X and Y.

The album opener, Life in Technicolor, begins with that electronic, shimmery solo piece, reminiscent of how Square One begins (or, more recently, Violet Hill). You expect Chris to burst out in lyrics when the shimmery piece reaches it’s climax, but instead you’re greeted with a tabla and, later joined by the twangy sound of the guitar. In fact, you don’t get to hear Chris singing at all in this song – a move that might remind you of Athlete’s album-opener, In Between 2 Sides, from their latest album, Beyond The Neighbourhood. The song is actually quite mild, but maybe that’s just because I didn’t up the volume up to maximum?

Life In Technicolor then smoothly merges into the next song, Cemeteries of London. The title sounds really gloomy, and it does begin gloomily, but don’t let that put you off. Wait for a few seconds, and then Chris starts going ‘la la la’, the sun breaks out from the clouds, and you shall smile. It’s a very upbeat song, and I love it. There’s the constant strumming of the guitars in the background that, for some reason, conjures up images of, errm, horseback-riding and cowboys? I don’t know, I’m weird.

Another song that you should keep an ear out for is 42; it’s actually made out of 3 songs. It starts off slow and melancholy, with Chris singing accompanied solely by the piano. Then he stops, and the songs takes a 180 degrees turn in which it’s the instruments’ turn to show off. Which they do, spectacularly and heavily. Kind of reminds me of Politik, actually. Then Chris starts singing again, and we’re off to the 3rd part of the song, which is upbeat and clappy and makes you smile again! Then it ends (awww :-( ) with a bit of the first part of the song.

Lovers in Japan is okay, but IMO kind of forgettable compared to the other songs in the album. Same goes with Reign of Love. They’re kind of like the Green Eyes and Warning Sign of this album. Good, but ain’t up to par with the others and wouldn’t really be able to stand alone. I think they released Lovers in Japan as a single because it was more mainstream than the rest? Unlike 42 and Cemeteries of London, it’s not necessary to focus your 100% attention to listening to Lovers in Japan to appreciate it.

Urm, Yes is good and is in the same category as, say, White Shadows, or Low. You know, the dark, mechanical type of music. You’ll notice Chris’s voice is really low here.

I LOVE Viva La Vida.

Violent -- I mean Violet -- Hill is OKAY.

Other exceptionally good songs in this album are Strawberry Swing, which caught me off guard because it’s very The Different from anything that Coldplay has produced – all happy and optimistic, and Death And All His Friends/The Escapist, which starts of slowly then builds up ala Amsterdam and is BEST GILER BABAS.

I’m getting tired here (hence why the review of each song is getting shorter and shorter), and I’ve written a lot, so why don’t you just do yourself a favour, buy the album and listen to it on high quality? Sure, there are a couple of misses among the hits, but I think Coldplay have really outdone themselves this time. You’ll be transported to a world where the sun and the moon take turns to shine on you.

Help Me For I Am Inspiration-less

And we all know what happens when I have no inspiration. I completely withdraw from my blog, refuse to log in at all for months, and contemplate deleting it altogether. Just check my archives list and you can see quite a lot of months missing since December 2006.

I don't want to go on hiatus, because I love love LOVE blogging.

Any suggestions on what I should write about that would both amuse me and you? Otherwise I'll just leave this blog to slowly rot and mould/mold(?) for months :-(

Anyone out there who reads my blog, whether you're a silent reader or a regular commenter, whether you're someone I know personally or not, please give me suggestions or my blog and I shall DIE!!

Of Cows, Milk and Babies

I was looking at my adorable little nephew, Ali, completely destroy play around with my white Fila bag, when suddenly I blurted out to him, ‘why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?’

Ali pondered this.



His mother, my sister, who had been folding freshly laundered clothes while I lounged in front of the TV to recover from a day of subtitling the most boring show in the world, gave me a look. And no wonder. How random could I get? ‘Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say to girls to stop them from being so cheap?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I frowned. ‘Yeah. So how should we change it to apply it to Ali?’

Kakak shrugged. ‘Don’t buy the cow if it offers you free milk? What do you think, Ali?’

Ali looked confused.


‘No!’ I said quickly. ‘That sounds like you’re encouraging him to take advantage of the cows offering him free milk.’ I brightened. ‘How about this? Don’t take any free milk offered to you by cows. Because most probably the milk has been drank by other people, too. And has their spit in it!’

There was a pause as the metaphor sunk in.

‘Ew,’ Kakak said finally.

My point exactly.

****This public message was brought to you by Anisah Shurfa, Asma Shurfa and Aliuddin Azfar***

All cow photos taken from deviantArt here, here and here

The Guide to Co-Curricular Activities in CFS Nilai

Besides by being outrageously good-looking (*cough* Roy *cough* Zaim), or totally scandalicious (*cough* Redha *cough*) or just really friendly and social (*cough* Nadzeri *cough* Ilya), another sure-fire way to gain popularity and become a campushold name in Nilai is by being active in co-curricular activities.

By joining clubs and taking part in campus activities, not only do you get to gain experience, you get to expand your social network beyond your classmates, roommates and friends-from-high-school-who-also-ended-up-in-UIA. And be around people who have the same passion as you, whether it’s Theatre, English, the Environment, etcetera.

(Plus, if you’re searching for your soulmate – the way I thought I would be, and failed miserably – there’s no better, or more innocent way, to meet prospective soulmates of the opposite gender than by joining a club of which you both have vested interests in. Cuz you’re definitely not gonna meet them in your dorm... unless you’re into that sort of thing. And classes? Please. How are you going to bond with the Other Gender who are sitting right on the other side of the class, when you’re so busy dazzling your lecturer with What You’re Capable Of ?)

I always say that if you don’t join any clubs at all, or participate in any co-curricular activities, that’s your very huge loss. I’m not sure about Nilai, since we lack basic facilities such as a proper hall, but during my time in PJ, every single night there would be several events held around campus, organised by various clubs, open for everyone to attend. Yes, that’s how seriously we take co-curricular activities here.

Gone are the high school days where co-curricular activities usually meant you competed for the highest position just so that it would look good on your testimonial, and then never hold any meetings or organise any events again. In UIA, join only if you have a passion for that club, because, honey, it’s gonna be a load of hard work.

So once you’ve decided what club you want to join, how to nab the top position and leave a lasting impression on the world of co-curricular activities in UIA? (Okay, maybe not the top position, as of course that will be taken over by the more experienced second year. But I guarantee you that other high posts such as vice-president, (assistant) secretary/treasurer are up for grabs, as well as head of various bureaus.)

Again, the golden key to all this is that when you come for the first meeting, nobody knows your past. At that first meeting, you’ve got to sell yourself to get their votes. These people don’t know you, so make them want to know you better. Make them Believe in All That You Stand For.

When it’s time for everyone to introduce themselves, make the most out of that five seconds when the spotlight is on you. Leave a lasting impression in everyone’s mind by showing off some of your fantastic personality as you briefly introduce yourself. How boring is it if I just stood up, said “I’m Anisah Shurfa. I take Human Sciences. I’m from Taman Tun” in a monotonous tone, then sit back down? Like anyone is going to remember that info when the spotlight moves to the next person. You’ve got to stand out, but subtly so that it doesn’t get on other people’s nerves. Here’s examples of how:

a) Dressing differently. Everyone’s probably going to go to the meeting in oversized shirts and tracksuit pants, so why not wear a casual blouse with a skirt instead? Guys, however, stand out simply by being the minority, so need to resort to skirts. But if you really want to make an impression, then by all means... go ahead.

b) Say your name twice, then add a little bit of info so that it is embedded into their brains. Eg: “I’m Anisah Shurfa. Yeah, Anisah Shurfa. And my name either means ‘girl balcony’ or ‘girl noble’. Depends on how you want to look at it.” Then when it comes to your course, you could say something like “I’m taking BEN, but you dare stereotype me and I’ll kick your ass with a well-placed euphemism”. And then: “I live in Taman Tun, and am proud to say that not all teens from Taman Tun are posers. Except me, of course.”

c) But for God’s sake don’t make it sound as if you’ve rehearsed it a million times, or, even worse, read it out loud from your notebook! The groans from everyone else will drown out all your words and they'll forever remember you as 'budak poyo yang aku benci tu'.

d) If everyone else is reciting their achievements from high school, do it too. With a modest “it was nothing” air, of course, as you tell them you were the vice-president of the librarians, and the secretary of the Language and Culture Club, and on the school magazine editorial board. Of course, no one has to know that you got all those positions simply by smiling and looking pretty. What matters is that you’re Earnest, and to show them How Much You Want This.

When it’s time for people to nominate the mainboard, don’t nominate yourself!!! No one can pull that off without looking big-headed!! Instead, get your roommate or friend whom you dragged along with you to nominate you. If you made a lasting impression, InsyaAllah, you will be chosen.

But take note that for the course societies, it won’t be this simple. You’ll have to be nominated by the seniors, go through an interview (by seniors, so you can breathe a sigh of relief), and then if you pass, prepare a manifesto and present it in front of everyone who is taking the same course as you, in the hopes that they vote for you. Just control your nerves, reveal your sparkling personality and what you have to offer, and you’ll be fine.

As for the Foundation Students Coordination Council (FSCC), the student council of UIA, as a former secretary 2 who was on the verge of quitting during her first semester, I advise you to only join if you’re dead sure you can give 100% of your commitment to them. If you really think you want to be a member, then Suck Up to your lecturers so that one nominates you, and two others second the nomination. Then get ready for the process of being shortlisted, preparing and presenting a manifesto in front of the whole of CFS, and getting interviewed by the highest-ranking lecturers.

But keep in mind that entering and winning a position in a club or society is just the tip of the iceberg. Staying inside and keeping it running? Is another matter entirely. Welcome to the world of hard work that you won’t be graded on, back-stabbing by envious inferiors, confrontations regarding how much you've actually contributed, endless meetings that last until late into the night, and events that you have to ensure will be a roaring success.

InsyaAllah, the new friends you make, the experience you gain, the fun you have doing what you love, and the smiles and waves you get from other students you don’t even know will all be worth it.

All the best!


PS: Atikah has this absolutely hilarious guide for you newbies on how to get out of campus illegally. Read it here.

I am Bimbo 2 (Volume II of the Bimbo Chronicles)

I am Bimbo 2 occured during semester 3, probably a month ago


Miss A and I stepped out from the car, along with Miss B, and her boyfriend Mr C, who had been driving us and wasn't from around.

Mr C had picked the three of us up from campus to take us out for dinner. After all, we were all kind of sick of the same old Mak Aya, Kawah Thai and Belanga fare that we would have every night.

Miss B had suggested we head over and eat at Nilai International College. I was down with that. Heck, I was down for anything! Especially as I wasn’t even hungry and didn’t plan to do anything except drink and accompany my friends. And check out Mr C, of course, since I’d heard so much about him.

Miss A and I entered Kopitiam first, with the other lovebirds approximately 3 feet behind us. As we entered, all eyes of the male diners there strayed towards us. And stayed there.

I rolled my eyes. Typical. Everywhere you go, there would be horny guys leering at you. You were never left in peace, whether it was to go have a drink with your girlfriends at a café, or just hanging out at the mall. What, did they think we were here to give them a free show or something? What was it that Habib had said in Miss B’s Critical Thinking class the other day? Guys think about sex every seven seconds.

Ew. Ok, maybe not exactly that. But I know it was seven something.

It was time to give them a piece of their own medicine.

‘Miss A,’ I said as loudly as I could, as the two of us walked in. ‘Look! They’re all staring at us because we’re so beautiful.’

Hah! All the guys immediately jumped and turned away. Take that! I thought triumphantly.

Miss A's big round eyes were even bigger and rounder than usual. ‘Shurfa!’ she mouthed, scandalised. She turned to Miss B and relayed what I had done.

Miss B’s eyes widened too. ‘You do know why they were staring at us, don’t you?’ she hissed as we all sat down on a table.

I threw a scornful glance towards the guys table and raised my voice again. ‘Duh. Because they’re perverted, that’s why.’ Good. They heard me.

Miss B rolled her eyes. ‘No. It’s because we’re dressed so strangely.’

I looked down at what I was wearing.

Oh. Yeah. Tudung. Baju kurung. In Miss A and Miss B's case: Jubah. In a college campus where everyone – especially non-Muslims – dressed freely in shorts. And tank tops.

Ooops.

Part B of the Third and Final Part Of The Unofficial Comprehensive Guide To Surviving UIA Nilai

Sorry if the title’s a bit confusing. Part A covered topics regarding your dorm and roommates, and turned out to be too long, so now I’ll talk about curricular activities.

Lecturers

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that it pays to suck up to your lecturers. Especially if you’re a devil like me.

By making your lecturer love you, you get special bonuses no one else does. You can:

a) Obtain information on what’s coming out in exams that no one else knows. If you’re really close to your lecturers, they may even yield interesting gossip about other students, or what the staff thinks about you.

b) Skip class without having to produce a Medical Certificate. Instead, just SMS them, saying you’re not feeling well, and they’ll totally fall for it. I got away with it like crazy during the first sem. Unfortunately, the same lecturers taught me again for my second sem, and I ended up getting a warning letter just for skipping an hour of class. Can you believe it?

c) Send your assignments in later than the other students. Of course, you have to provide a good excuse for doing this. Add in tears and a voice positively wobbling with regret for extra measure. This works even better if you’re a guy.

d) Do “special favours” for them that actually benefit you, such as organising events in which they think you’re perfect for handling, or joining your course’s Society because they insist that the society needs you (even though you were turned down for the official interview), etcetera. These are golden opportunities in which your lecturer’s recommendation is priceless.

e) Get a job/scholarship offer. I’m not kidding you. When my sister KakZimah graduated from Gombak, she was immediately offered a part-time job by a lecturer who still remembered teaching her in CFS. My sister KakAmnah got an even better offer from her lecturer: full scholarship to do Masters wherever in the world she wanted, and a Ph.D in Holland, then a job teaching in Gombak. Wow.

f) Break university rules in class. Well, I got away with wearing denim jackets to class, wearing sandals, not wearing my Matric Card, eating sandwiches, text messaging... And all while sitting at the front row, too.

So how do you make your lecturers love you? Remember that for your first class, the lecturer doesn’t know any one of you. So here’s your opportunity to make a lasting first impression and stand out from your classmates.


a) Sit at the front row of the class and paste a look of absolute interest on your face at all times. It’s always the front row kids the lecturers remember.

b) Engage in the class discussions, and be sure to ask questions at any opportunity possible and answer questions thrown at you intelligently. If the lecturer asks anyone in the class to answer a question, go ahead and do it. But not too many times as your classmates will start to hate you. Keep in mind that by sitting in the front row, it’s always easier to ask and answer questions because you don’t have to raise your voice to be heard by the lecturer. Even better, if you answer a question wrongly, chances are the rest of the class didn’t hear it.

c) Prepare on the topic before class so that the lecturer thinks you’re a smarty-pants, and so that you can ask and answer questions brilliantly.

d) Score high marks all the time and prepare amazing assignments and funny presentations. What lecturer doesn’t love a clever student? Having a clever student is testimony to a lecturer’s amazing teaching skills.

e) Show some of your dazzling personality. Because no one loves a robot.


Carry Marks

Unlike in high school, your final results are not merely based on your final exams results. Usual, that makes up just 40-50% of it.

So where do you get all the other marks from? This is what we call carry marks – the work you’re graded on throughout the semester. Even your attendance may be graded on, so don’t skip classes unless necessary!

Carry Marks are from presentations, assignments, quizzes, mid-semester exams and whatever else your lecturer concocts throughout the semester. So don’t think you can get away with not sending in your work, because your GPA will suffer for it.

If your presentation or assignment requires research, never leave it till the last minute. Seriously. DON’T, no matter how much you are tempted to procrastinate. You see, the library has a wealth of knowledge from which you can find information. But be serious. Do you think you can read those 6 books you found pertaining to your topic within one day, then summarise it? Chances are, by doing last minute work, you won’t be sending an assignment that reveals to your lecturer your real capabilities. Capabilities at completing a one-month assignment in one weekend, maybe. But it’s not like your lecturer’s going to give you marks for that.

If you have to do group-work assignments, make sure all group members pull their weight because you will be graded as a group, not individually. That means if you can choose your members, choose ones you can trust will do their work, and do it well. If that means you won’t be teaming up with your nice-but-totally-lazy friends, so be it. I made the mistake of doing my Research Proposal assignment with three other friends. We divided the topics between us, and did the work mostly on our own. When we got back our Research Proposal from the lecturer, guess who’s part of the assignment was perfectly correct, but still obtained low marks because the others parts done by her group members were pure crap? Yes, me, that’s who.


Exams

The night before my Arabic exams for last semester, Dina, Izzati and I stayed up in the study room feverishly cramming the grammar and endless vocabulary into our heads. By 5am in the morning, I stood up from the table, yelled out that I was sick of Arabic and was bound to fail, anyway, and almost had a mental breakdown.

You do not want this to happen to you.

On the flip side, the night before my Sociology exam in my first semester, I stayed up to send endless text messages to Alif about whether he’d ever made out with his girlfriend before, and other rubbishy things that had nothing to do with my exams. I didn’t open my text book or notes at all, and even the next morning, while waiting outside the exam venue, I was stupefied when I discovered my classmates had actually studied the night before.

I ended up getting an A.

So what’s the difference between how I prepared for my Arabic exam (which I discovered yesterday I got a B for) and how I prepared for my Sociology exam?

Easy. For Arabic, I neglected most of my studies throughout the semester, and ended up reading the final 3 chapters for the first ever time the very night before the exam.

For Sociology, on the other hand, I found the subject so interesting, that I would read the textbooks and notes during my free time, and was always up-to-date with what my lecturer, Madam Nursiah, taught during class. Last minute cramming wasn’t necessary for me, because I already knew all the information.

A great way to prepare for your exams is to form a study group and meet up at the library every day throughout Revision and Exam Week. For variety, make sure there are guys and girls in your study group, and that they are taught by different lecturers from you. That way, you can compare notes and fill each other in on what your lecturers may have taught you differently. Study together so that you can ask each other questions over topics you’re weak at, and when you’ve finished with all the reading, answer and discuss the past year paper.

Ah, yes, answering and discussing the past year paper is GOLD. You will either be absolutely the luckiest person on earth and discover that your exam paper is exactly the same as the past year paper you have discussed with your study group (eg: my Contemporary Issues in the Muslim World paper). Or you will be very lucky and find that your exam paper has a few questions that are exactly the same as in the past year paper (eg: my Psychology paper). Or you will be mildly lucky and discover that your exam paper is simply a thousand times easier than the past year paper you sweated over for hours with your study group (eg: my Basic Themes of Al-Quran paper).

And with that, I’d like to make a shout-out to all my study group members from the second semester who helped me a lot throughout Exam Week. Alyaa, Maya, Nadia, Faiz, Roy and Syed: thank you so much for the notes, the gossip, the pep-talks, the hilarity, the discussions and, of course, the unexpected friendship between a group of people who barely knew each other before the study group was formed. Love you guys! (And to the people who were also studying in the library at that time, sorry for being so noisy!)



Taken right after our final exam paper! The whole study group planned early on to wear black and white. But I wore all white, as the founder of the study group. Heehee!

The Third and FINAL part of the Comprehensive Guide to UIA NILAI!!!

First:

CONGRATULATIONS FOR SURVIVING TAARUF WEEK!!!

You guys did it! I saw for myself how you had to wake up at 4am, be dressed and lined up in the courtyard by 5am, and attend briefings/lectures/tests the whole day. Not forgetting the 5pm torture practise sessions on the field under the hot sun, where you had to sing the CFS for the 50th time even though you’d rather just curl up in your dorm and sleep. Trust me, I’ve been there and experienced all of it.

(Maybe that’s why throughout the days I was there, I would wake up every day at 5am, look out from my window at you guys lining up below me, then go back to sleep till 1pm)

So now the weekend has kicked in and you get to sit back and catch up on all those hours of sleep you missed.

OR

You could start planning on how to make the most out of your stay here in Nilai, starting by reading the third, long-due, final part of my guide.

You’ve seen for yourself how tiny the campus is, and how there are a limited number of people in it. So does one of your ambitions include being one of the elite whose name everyone on campus knows and talks about? Or does your goal involve a string of A’s, a Dean’s List and a scholarship? Or are you planning to be the student with all the highest posts in all the coolest societies, and with contacts even among the staff?

Or… do you intend to achieve all of that, and more?

Okay, let’s look at each aspect of Nilai campus one by one. If it’s too long, I might have to break Part 3 into several posts. Hehehe!


Your Dorm and Your Roommates

I’m hoping that, by now, you’ve at least remembered everyone’s names, and maybe gotten to know some of them properly, especially the ones whom share your bed, or occupy the beds next to you.

After one measly, activity-filled week, cliques usually haven’t been formed yet. Or maybe they have, but according to the location of the beds, not the personalities of each roommate.

I am not encouraging you to form a tight group of 4 to 5 roommates, and then completely ignore the rest of the dorm. Bad, BAD idea. However, logically, you can’t be BFFS with all 19 other girls in your dorm. If you’re going to grab dinner, or stock up on groceries at Giant, there will always be a particular group you would prefer to be with. Here, I’m going to identify the types of girls (sorry, guys!) you will find in your dorm. And keep in mind that a girl can be a mixture of two or more of these personalities.

The Tudung Labuh

The TLs are usually BAR and IRK students, sometimes Laws, Econs and HS students, but never BEN. They are usually Islamic, modest, quiet, neat and don’t really stand out in a room. They communicate mostly in BM, and come from Islamic schools such as Ma’had, Tahfiz or Darul Quran. Often, these girls are a year older than you and would prefer that you call them ‘Kak Nad/Sara/Ma”. They will hold congregational prayers in the dorm, and will invite you to join them, but never force.

…On the flip side: The Holier-Than-Thou

The Holier-Than-Thou will switch on all the lights in the dorm by 5am in the morning. They might switch on some nasyid music too if they notice you haven’t stirred from your beds. They will give you Death Glares or/and shake their heads in disapproval if you walk around in a towel, or a tank top and shorts. They may even forcibly request you join their congregational prayers, and then forcibly request you to listen to their lecture afterwards on the evils of not praying/not observing the aurah/mingling freely with the opposite sex. They will switch off the lights really, really early regardless whether you’re ready to sleep or not.


The Socialites

The Socialites tend to be loud, fun-loving girls who were either forced to enter UIA by their parents, or weren’t accepted anywhere else. Lesbian jokes are a staple among them, as well as talk about sex, their bra size, Bitches who backstabbed them, and the hottest guys on campus. The Socialites are friendly and open, but rather dominating and vulgar. Hanging out with them is like being at a 24/7 party – hilariously fun, but exhausting. These girls usually come from all girls school, or Sekolah Kebangsaan.

…On the flip side: The Bitches
The Bitches shrieks and squeals of ‘Oh my Gawd!’ can be heard through out the whole dorm, even though its 2am in the morning and everyone else is already tucked in their beds. Every time the Bitches chill, they make sure their voices are carried through out the whole room, because of course everyone wants to know what scandalous gossip they’re discussing. They backbite about absolutely everyone, so don’t be surprised if you hear your name come up when they think you’re sleeping. Catfights and backstabbing will always occur among them, and they’ll force the whole room to take sides. Whatever dilemma a Bitch is going through, everyone in the whole room knows, because she never keeps something to herself.


The Overachievers

These Ex-MRSM students will hardly ever be in their dorms; when they’re not in class, they’re either at a meeting, making notes in the study room or conducting study group sessions in the library. They are serious about their studies; obtaining Dean’s List and winning a scholarship is their ultimate dream. But at the same time, they want to snag that top position in all the best clubs, be the head committee of any major event, and gain “priceless experience” along they way. They are smart, charismatic, popular, and will definitely lend you a hand in your studies.


… On the flip side: The bigheads
The bigheads will never stop letting you know just how busy they are, how stressed out they are by their class assignments plus club workload, and how lucky everyone else is for having so much free time compared to them. The bigheads are so used to being the leaders in their class and in their clubs, that they expect to be leaders in their clique too. They will be dominating every single group conversation, and will probably re-tell the same “amusing” anecdote for the 58th time to everyone in their loud, domineering voice, and demand that everyone laugh at their jokes. They usually have many enemies, and friends who secretly hate them.


The Invisibles

The Invisibles keep to themselves so much, and are so quiet, that soon enough you’ll either forget their names altogether, not be able to differentiate between them when they’re in the dorm, and not be able to recognise them outside the dorm. In fact, you could go through a whole semester without saying a word to them. It’s not that they think they’re too good for you; usually it’s because they’re extremely shy. They won’t be causing any conflict in the room – in fact, even if they didn’t exist, there wouldn’t be a real difference in the room.

…On the flip side: This could happen to you.


Other Personality Types: The Chameleons, The Jahiliah, The Jokesters, The Kampong Girls, The City Girls…the list goes on.

***

Keep in mind the cliques in your room may form due to bed locations, class mates, or similar personalities. It’s not usual, but it’s not unheard of, either, for a clique to be made up of all those types of personalities I mentioned, and more.

Despite the fact that you have a clique, be sure to hang out and have regular conversations with almost every occupant in your room. It’s good to have a sisterly feeling among all your roommates. That way, you won’t feel so lonely and unwanted if you’re not with your clique.

What Dina did to bring everyone together in my room was to bring food from home, set it in the middle of the room after Maghrib, and invite everyone to eat and introduce themselves at the same time. It feels more relaxed and natural that way.

You could also hold movie nights on your laptop to bring everyone together. For my room, for example, we’d always watch the latest Gossip Girl episode (downloaded by yours truly) on my laptop on a night when absolutely everyone is free.

However, there’s no other method of making your dorm feel homier than pooling all your money to buy linoleum to cover the whole floor. That way, everyone can hang out/study/sleep in the middle of the dorm – especially that wide empty space by the windows. Otherwise, you’ll feel like your dorm is divided into islands.

Other matters regarding your dorm(mates):
Elect a leader (or musyrifah) from your dorm early on, and she will be the representative for all 20 of you. My advice would be to choose the oldest among the Tudung Labuhs.

Have a timetable laid out early on regarding who cleans the room on which weekend. Since you newbies are staying in Block D and E, cleaning the toilets will be unnecessary.

Avoid any conflict in your room, please. You do not want all your roommates to hate you and segregate you. Nor would you want them to spill all your dirty secrets (you don’t like to shower in the mornings, you wear the same underwear for one whole week, or you scratch your crotch when you sleep at night) to everyone else on campus.


Wooh! So this turned out longer than I thought it would be. Stay tuned for the next, uh, part of Part 3, which will either involve curricular activities or extra-curricular activities. Can’t decide which yet.

I survived Nilai. Again.

Aaaand I'm back from my 4-day-stint in Nilai!!!

Sorry, everyone, for my abrupt hiatus from my blog!! I would have warned that I'd be MIA from the world of the Internet, but I honestly thought I would be able to get online on campus. But turns out that Block A is the only hostel with slightly-less-crappy wireless. And I was staying in Block D.

So, sux to the new intakes, who are all being shoved into Block D and E, which have smaller toilets, more beds, and is soo far away from the library (with its super-fast connection) and the guys's hostel. Which means chances of you girls being all gatal with them is as thin as, erm, Hamizah (Sorry, darling -- couldn't think up a better anology right now, especially as I really need the loo, but am resisting it due to the lure of the Internet).

Don't mean to sound so... hostile to you newbies, but honestly. When me and Syed Kamil stood there on the field, clutching our microphones and demanding that you sing the CFS song and Asma ul Husna louder, did you think we were kidding or something?! Did you think I was having the time of my life at the front there, singing the song tunelessly over the mic to get you girls going? Sure, it was HOT out there on the field, and not all of you were smart enough to bring umbrellas. But let's face it. If you had sung louder, cooperated better, Syed and I would have let you head back to your hostels ASAP. Sheesh. I'm glad I helped him out only for one evening. I would have died if he asked me to co-MC your practise sessions every evenings.

Okay, rant over :-D


First day at Nilai during Taaruf Week was actually fun! I arrived on Registration Day (Tuesday) in my typical, too-dressed-up-for-UIA-wear, and received quite a few quizzical looks as, despite my lack of inches, I was obviously not a newbie first year since, instead of a generic baju kurung, I was wearing a black cardigan over a greenish-brown dress, with formal black pants and my Stomping Leather Boots (SLB didn't make even a single appearance last sem, so they got a bit of reaction from my International friends who'd never seen me wear them). But I obviously wasn't a committee, either, since I wasn't wearing the Taaruf uniform: a green batik top over a white skirt.

While waiting outside the IRKHS department for my lecturer, Madam Nordalela, to turn up with my MC script for Intro to CFS, I spotted good ol' Asyraf (or Daddy A, as Hawa and Olfa like to call him) working the brother's registeration booth. Of course, being the absolute unobservant idiot that I am, I didn't notice that there were absolutely no girls at that booth, and proceeded to join him at the booth so that I could harass him over his terrible Announcement Voice. That is, until a staff member who didn't recognise me asked me what the hell I was doing there. (Okay, maybe he phrased it a lot more politely). Being a girl and not even dressed according to the dresscode, never mind the Taaruf uniform, I had obviously no business to be there. I excused myself pronto.

Wednesday was spent rehearsing for my MC stint that night with my partner, Syuhada, who would be reading the Arabic translation. There was also this VERY scary moment when all the newbies filed into the marquee tent (where the event would be taking place that night) for a full rehearsal. I hadn't expected I had to rehearse in front of them. And I certainly hadn't expected Syed (or FBB, as Hawa and Olfa like to call him) to suddenly shove the microphone into my hands, asking me go up ALONE on the stage and explain to all the new students the protocol of a formal event. Me, speak publicly without any preparation beforehand in front of thousands of students? Alone, and without a rostrum to hide behind? I'd die.

Except I didn't. Something amazing came over me at that moment -- I didn't even feel nervous or anything when I took the mic from him, bounded up the steps to the stage and explained to everyone exactly when they should stand up, sit down, etcetera. (On hindsight, I think I should also have told them when to clap, which is when I announce the words "Welcome to the Introduction to the Centre For Foundation Studies, International Islamic University Malaysia!!!" because no one clapped that night. You could hear grasshoppers chirping in the silence before I awkwardly cleared my throat and continued.)

That night, the event went on smoothly. I remembered all the tips Madam Mumtazah gave me : speak slower, pause longer, look at the VIP when mentioning their names, enunciate my t's (eg: deputy, not depu'y), pronounce madam as "ma-dum" and not "ma-dahm", accompanied as "ah-come-panied" and not "ah-com-panied", and recitation as "ress-ee-tation", not "recite-tation" (I'm really bad at pronouncing words). There was this awkward moment that deviated from the script, causing Syu and I to panic (the speaker suddenly wanted to have a Q and A session, and left it to us MCs to manage it) but we were able to make it look like it was really a part of the whole event. And even though the newbies didn't applaude at the right moment (refer to paragraph above), they actually applauded when my partner and I finished. How sweet.

The next day, I planned to go home at 3pm with the satisfaction of a job well done. I very soon realised that that wouldn’t be happening, as I was requested to lend a hand to the committee. My first act of voluntary help was to translate a script into English. That script would be used for the gimmick for the Closing Ceremony, and supposed to be read by a narrator yet to be chosen. Next, Syed asked for my help to co-MC the evening-singing-practise-session for that day with him. I obliged, and got dutifully pissed off by the non-cooperation from the girls (refer to 4th paragraph of this post). Finally, as I was wandering around the marquee tent pointlessly, Azharul called me over to help out the guy who (very reluctantly) had to be MC for that night.

I also found out that the committee had held a meeting last night about the Intro to CFS event, and someone actually said I had dominated the microphone over my Arabic partner!!! WTF?! Insulted, I went up to Madam Nursiah (Head of IRKHS department) and Madam Rose (Head of Laws department) and asked them what they thought about my performance the night before. They assured me I had done excellently (weeee!!!!) and that the only problem was that the microphone for my partner hadn't been very clear. Which makes me wonder why people are blaming me for the fact that they couldn't hear my partner speak clearly. Idiots.

Friday, and I knew it was time to bid farewell to Nilai forever. I packed my things into my gigantic luggage bag, hugged my roommates Hawa and Olfa goodbye (*sob* will miss you guys!!) and left for Block C, where the lecturer’s 3pm bus would be waiting to depart for PJ. However, just as I was about to board the bus, I spotted two committee guys suddenly running over to me all the way from the field. Curious, I hung back to see what they wanted...

Guy: Anisah, dah nak balik ke??

Me: A’ah. *gestures towards huge luggage bag* Kenapa?

Guy: Nak mintak tolong ni. Boleh tak jadi tukang narrator untuk Closing Ceremony?

Me: *blinks in surprise* Oh! Erm. Untuk bila? Malam ni?

Guy: *exchanges looks with Other Guy* Actually, esok pagi.

Me: *glances at my humongous luggage bag, then at the bus, which is about to depart any second now* Umm…

Guy: Takpelah. Beg tu pun dah siap pack pun.

Me: Yeah… sorry


A pity, that.

Freedom to blog whatever you want? I don't think so

After discovering a certain someone had copy-pasted a message I sent to her boyfriend onto her blog, I have been wondering. How far does the freedom of blogging encompass?

Here’s a few Blogging Don’t I’ve come up with today. Can’t really think of anything else at the moment. If you have any ideas, feel free to write it in the comments!

When Badmouthing, Don't Mention Names. EVER

It is common for bloggers to want to write on their blog about that ho who stole their boyfriend, or the asshole lecturer who read their embarrassingly bad essay out loud to the whole class. However, when badmouthing someone on your blog, respect their identity by not revealing it. Think of it this way; blogging about how you caught your boyfriend, Amir Roslan in the arms of the campus slut, Sara Abdul, is just as bad as passing flyers to everyone on campus about it. No, actually it’s worse because you have no idea who in the world will be reading your blog. For sure, the person you’re writing about will get wind of it and plot your destruction.

Eg:
OMG OMG OMG!! Today I had this totally huge fight with Amir about that desperate slut o’hara who keeps chasing after him, Sara. YOU KNOW WHY?? I saw them together at Giant yesterday after he cancelled his date with me because he said he was going to see his sick grandma! BITCH BITCH BITCH. I hate her so much!!! I know it’s her fault. She seduced him using all that black magic of hers. You know she doesn't pray and can’t even recite Al-Fatihah? Yeah, that’s because she’s a witch and a slut. And she’s not even pretty.

I doubt either Amir or Sara would appreciate her writing about them for everyone on the planet to read.

Murdering the language

There is nothing more annoying than reading a blog where omg dey rite al der entrs lk dis cz lol it svs tym!!1!!. I mean, come on. Is it that hard to type in proper English? It is entries like these that make us throw our hands up in despair and wonder what is happening to our language. Surely you didn’t learn to write like this in school? And isn’t it easier to type like this:

Today I went to school and realised that it was actually Saturday. What a laugh!

Rather than this?

wnt 2 skul 2dy n rlsd dat it ws actly stday lol lol lol.

Self-Indulgent

You know you've stumbled across a self-absorbed, self-pity, self-indulgent blog when it reads something like this:

Today, I had my heart broken by X. This beautiful boy who gave me hope, who made me believe in not just him, but myself and our future together, told me he was not ready for a relationship. His words dug deep into my heart… I don’t think I will ever recover. I can’t stop crying. I’m beautiful, fair, tall, smart, funny, sympathetic (to the point that people take advantage of me) and I remind myself of Belle from Beauty and the Beast. What more could X want from a girl? He and I… we are meant to be together. What has happened to make him not see that? I love him so much. Without him I am nothing. Just an empty, cold, glass shell. I cannot live like this. X, come back to me.

Someone who blogs with no regard or respect to her audience's (bored) feelings should either just buy a proper journal or spare the unfortunate person who stumbles on her blog by making her blog private.

Holidays To-Do List

1) Earn lots and lots of money

Yeah, baby! I’m sick of not having money because I’ve been too lazy to work. During that gap between SPM and entering UIA, I’d enjoyed a time when my monthly earnings was enough for me to move out (to the remotest part of Kelantan) and have a family (of no children) of my own. But on a more serious note, it hasn’t been easy, growing up in a family where your father’s an invalid who can barely speak, never mind walk, and your mother spends all her time caring for him, and the family’s source of income (land being rented out/sold in Kelantan) is unreliable. To make a long story short: money was tight in the family. When I began to earn my own salary last year, not only did I purchase new clothes and shoes with my own money, I bought my own MP3 player, phone, laptop, paid for the taxes for my house, and even the registration fees for UIA. Anything to lighten the burden for my parents (and indulge in my materialistic side). But, sadly, ever since I entered short semester, I haven’t been working much and have been depending solely on my mum for money to survive every week. (Sorry, Mama!)

2) Lose weight

Before I went to Aceh in March, I was under this glorious delusion that I weighed a mere 42kg, despite the fact that I never sweat (unless it has to do with the heat) and I eat even when I’m full because food is so delicious goddamnit. Anyway, why 42kg? Because that was how much I weighed the last time I’d checked, which was in June 2007, for the obligatory Medical check up run by UIA. The bitter truth came out in the open in front of my UIA friends, in the Student Activities Department, for God’s sake. We were there because we had to weigh the luggage bags we were going to bring with us to Aceh. So I decided to check out my weight, confident that I didn’t weigh a kg over 42. I almost fainted in horror when I found out I weighed 6kg more than that!

6kg in a span of 9 months!

I weighed 48kg – 2kg shy of the ultimate five-zero!!

Yet I was still 4’11!!!

My body refused to grow vertically, but had overcompensated horizontally!!!

At that rate, by the time I turned 19, I would join the ranks of the 50kg! And I would be its shortest member!!

Since then, though, I’ve already lost 2 kg, and I’m still trying. I plan to jog around Kiara Park every evenings with maybe my mum and siblings (definitely not with my friends, guy or girl – I seriously look buruk gila babun when I’m in my exercise gear). I’m also going to limit my junk food intake to PMS or cramming sessions the night before an exam paper. Even for my Arabic exam’s cramming session, I spent a total of RM11.20 on a huge bar of Cadbury’s, a bottle of Coke (because they were out of Pepsi) and tomato-flavoured Twisties. As I said to my (now ex)roommate Ain, “studying is expensive”. But now it occurs to me that I should have also said “studying is bad for your health”.

Isy, tiba-tiba aku rasa lapar.

3) Blog every day?

Blogging keeps me happy and sane(er than usual). Will try to keep blogging. If I disappear without warning (which has happened a lot since I started this blog in December 2005), it’s because life has become too embarrassingly boring for me to share with the rest of the world.

But I will definitely complete writing Part 3 of the guide!!! Kesabaran adalah sebahagian daripada Iman, O Newbies. Maybe while you guys are running around during Taaruf Week in Nilai, though. I’ll be there, too, and as I won’t have much work to do besides being the MC for Tuesday and Thursday night, I’ll focus on that entry.

4) Go out with friends

I haven’t seen my friends from high school in ages! And what about the friends who didn’t take short semester in UIA? In fact, I already miss the friends who did take short semester! You guys all owe me big time!!! Let’s go to Genting Highlands, or watch summer blockbusters, or shop for branded clothes on 70% discount, or indulge at over-priced restaurants, or attend educational seminars, or read in bookstores for hours or… I don’t know! JUST CALL ME WHENEVER YOU’RE FREE AND WE CAN ALL HANG OUT PRONTO.


5) Do loads of unselfish things

Because it just occurred to me that my list is so very The Self-Absorbed and The Selfish.

Prologue and Chapter One

I posted the Prologue on my blog years ago, but instead of sifting through my archives for it, might as well re-post it, innit?

I don't know what's wrong with this story. I've got all the plot worked out in my head, but I cannot do it justice when I write it out!! I already wrote more than 200 pages of this story when I was 16, but I chucked the whole thing and am re-writing it, though the Prologue sticks. So just tell me what you think, yeah? :-D

Prologue

If you opened a Third Year’s history text book and read the opening paragraph of Chapter 3, you’d immediately learn that the first person who had hailed Fern as the “Perfect Town” was actually High Chancellor Morgana, who immediately took up residence in one of the cottages, and not – as some of the mischievous children would inform you with a completely straight face – Miss Dewberry, the mad old pixie who owned twenty-eight parrots that all lived in her outhouse.

Indeed, the vast countryside town of Fern did look perfect; acres of greenery that stretched as far as the eye could see; majestic, thundering waterfalls by the dozens; centaurs and unicorns grazing peacefully everywhere, and, arguably best of all, rows and rows of sweet little cottages nestled neatly and picturesquely in quaint, modest-sized hills. If you stood atop of one of those hills and looked down, you’d be able to see a group of said mischievous children playing in Dandelion Square’s biggest playground, housewives busy shopping for grocery at the markets, lovers strolling peacefully hand in hand, and people simply walking to and fro about their business in their happy, simple lives.

But, as always, nothing was what it seemed.

For, underneath the pleasant, contented façade, the town of Fern hid a deep, dark secret that threatened to render the town imperfect. It was the darkest, deepest and most despicable secret that you could ever imagine.

The town was cursed.

It had been so for many centuries. The origin of the curse was still unknown, but you may be sure that there were speculations. Among the more controversial theories was that a bitter dryad, after visiting the splendid town, had done it out of envy. But that theory was quickly debunked, for who had ever heard of a dreadful, menacing dryad stepping foot into pristine Fern? Others claimed that it was the work of the gods or some higher being, but the villagers, being strictly of the unreligious nature, dismissed that theory, too. But however or whatever the curse came from, it was there to stay.

The curse randomly attacks any baby born in the town, whether pixie, fairy or elf (though elves had always been a rare sight in Fern), giving each a … how should I say it … handicap. It wasn’t a specific type of handicap, either, and wasn’t something that could be remedied by over-the-counter medicines or years of counseling…

I am being vague, I know, but the only way you can truly understand is by experiencing what the villagers go through, and the only way you can do that is by meeting seventeen-year-old pixie Wilhelmina Robin.

***************

Chapter 1

‘Are you sure you want to eat that, Mina?’ my younger sister Lia watched me, her bulging-out eyes looking, at that moment, as if it would simply explode from all the bulging it was going through. ‘It’s just unnecessary fat, if you ask me.’ She smiled superiorly as she took a dainty bite out of her bowl of unappetizing-looking salad.

Since I hadn’t asked her anything, and because she wasn’t worth a reply anyway, I simply continued piling on the glistening, golden, fat-ridden and, to Lia, forbidden butter onto my toast.

‘Yeah, you do that,’ sneered Lia, her face going red, laying down her fork carefully. Lia, like all extroverts, didn’t like it when people didn’t pay attention to her. ‘Ignore me, just the way you ignore everyone else. You’re nothing but a freak with an incurable disease.’

‘As usual, Lia, your insight astounds me,’ I allowed, my voice dripping with as much sarcasm as there was butter from my toast. ‘Pray share some more of the crap that goes through your wonderful mind. I might even get angry enough that an… accident might happen.’ I wiggled my fingers pointedly; fingers which, at that moment, were ungloved.

Hey, you try to eat buttered toast with gloves on and see how fun it is, alright? Then add to that the frustration from having a starved younger sister (this was, what, her sixth fad diet this year?) breathe down your neck every time you take a bite. It’s enough to make you want to threaten murder.

Which, basically, was exactly what I was doing.

Lia narrowed her eyes. It looked like it took real effort. ‘Are you threatening to kill me?’

I shrugged, already getting bored with the whole argument.

Luckily, as if my prayers had actually been answered, Mum came bustling into the kitchen, wearing the usual spick-and-span daisy print apron and bright smile to match. ‘Not bickering again, are we, girls?’ her voice rang out as she made a beeline towards the pantry. ‘You really tire me out.’

‘Wilhelmina threatened me with her curse again,’ announced the sneak.

‘And Cornelia is being a condescending ass again,’ I countered, rolling my eyes.

‘See, Mum!’ Lia said immediately. ‘She swore!'

Mum lifted her hands up in the air. ‘Leave me out of this, please. I didn’t come into the kitchen to play the referee. Though let me just say I do wish you two would grow up.’

‘Yeah, Wilhelmina,’ Lia said pointedly.

‘Shut up.’

‘You shut up.’

‘No, you, you annoying brat.’

‘Girls!’ Mum said sharply, her hands on her hips.

We both shut up at once.

‘The mayor will be coming for dinner today so I’m going to be busy in the kitchen,’ she said in the same sharp, snappy voice that we had long recognized was a sign of upcoming danger . ‘Heaven knows why he’s doing it on such short notice, but I have a reputation to live up to. I shall not be made a laughing stock in this town because I served vegetable soup for dinner – the mayor will get only the best. So you two had better make yourselves useful by helping me cook, or by not being a nuisance.’

I groaned. ‘What on earth is he coming here for?’

‘I bet it’s to complain about Mina again,’ Lia said slyly. ‘did you accidentally kill someone’s cat again?’ she asked me in her maddeningly condescending air.

I curled my hand into a fist and lunged. Unfortunately, Lia – who had had years of practice of anticipating and dodging my punches – ducked, so my fist only met thin air. But the fleeting look of panic on her face was as satisfying as a cold, frothing mug of Fizzlypop.

Mum, who was flipping through her secret recipe book, didn’t notice, though it didn’t really matter – she never interfered with our sibling fights. She had given up 4 years ago, during an incident when Lia had thrown my whole Nancy Goes to Boarding School series into the Wishing Well – a completely unremarkable, unmagical, crumbling old well that did not function beyond the obvious, but was named so due to the amazing wittiness of Fern’s founders – and I retaliated by smashing all her dolls with my baseball bat and leaving it in her bathtub for her to discover. ‘Your father will be here for dinner too, so I’ll expect you to be at the dinner table by six in your best things. No skiving or you won’t be able to step outside the front door for the next seven days.’

‘Mum...!’ I protested, while Lia pulled a dismayed face as she stabbed her salad viciously.

‘I’m sorry, I really am.’ Mum looked it, too. She knew how much Lia and I hated entertaining guests – though Lia could charm the socks off anyone when she wanted to. It was a talent that I grudgingly admired. I, on the other hand, was socially retarded. ‘But the mayor said he wanted to speak to the whole family. There’s no way out of it, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ll wear my purple dress,’ Lia said resignedly. ‘What are you going to wear?’ She turned to me. Before I could answer something along the lines of a pair of jeans and t-shirt, she continued smoothly, ‘wear your green dress. It brings out the colour of your eyes.’ She didn’t add the only nice features you actually have, but the look on her face totally implied it.

Mum beamed. ‘Yes, you would both look lovely in those dresses.’

Lia and I exchanged critical glances at each other. We both looked far from lovely at the moment. Let’s just say that I had yet to take a bath today (or yesterday, for that matter), while Lia’s too-small dress which she had strictly limited to indoor-wear since the day the skirt reached above her knees (about 3 years ago, I believe) made her look like she had suddenly undergone an abnormal growth spurt.

I shrugged in defeat. ‘I guess I can handle one evening of torture,’ I said grudgingly as I put my gloves back on.

‘That’s my girl. And maybe you should give your hair a wash, too,’ said Mum all too casually, and fooling no one.

‘Don’t push it,’ I warned, pushing my chair back and standing up. ‘I keep that for very special occasions, only.’

Mum sighed. ‘Well, you can’t blame me for trying.’

‘You really should have known better, Mother,’ said Lia with a sniff, turning back to her salad.

I shot daggers at Lia before exiting the kitchen. As I stood at the staircase, ready to climb upstairs and take a long-due bath, something made me pause and turn backwards to the front door. It was a lovely day today; not surprising though, since Fern was notoriously famous for its amazing weather. It would be a real shame if I didn’t take my usual stroll through Fern. Meg would be waiting for me by the swings, too, like usual.

So… bath or fresh air first?

“Is Nilai THAT bad?” she asked

I could write a whole blog entry answering that question, with me basically whining about how crappy the facilities are over here, and about what exactly it is I miss in PJ.

1) I miss watching dramas by BEN Society or GETAR or ELC at good old Al Malik Faisal Hall. Here in Nilai, I have no idea where you can have dramas or plays or any major indoor event for the new intake, because WE HAVE NO HALL. We only have the MPN hall, which is a long, long trek away and a very dangerous journey to undertake at night. Why can’t the authorities provide us with our very own Aragorn to guide us on our journey? OMG, can you imagine going to the Student Activities Department and ordering your own custom-made Aragorn to escort you around campus at night? “Yes, I’d like him to be around 5’7 – not too tall for me, you see, that I won’t even be able to get a view of his face and appreciate the manly beauty – and wearing that deliciously weather-beaten costume from the first movie. But spare me the Body Odor, k? I don’t need it to be that realistic. Oh, and here's a playlist of songs I'd like him to sing for me”.

2) I miss my peaceful room in Khadijah College, from where I can plop my giant ass on my desk, take out my good old binoculars and spy on all my guy friends playing on the gorgeous football field 9 floors below. I remember wincing every time someone took his shirt off, because I can testify that there are absolutely NO FIT GUYS in UIA. Even worse was when the guy who strips is a friend. Argh! Overexposure alert!!!

3) I miss that stupid elevator in Khadijah College that beeps annoyingly as soon as around 7 people enter it, and refusing to shut unless we made a square formation around the walls of the elevator so that our weight spread out, or someone good-naturedly stepped out and lessened the weight. There was one time I returned from class at 1 to find a huge crowd of girls waiting by the elevators, and only one elevator working. So instead of manoeuvring my way to the front (one of the huge pluses of being so short is that I can force my way through almost any crowd), I instead decided to climb the 9 flights of stairs all the way to my room. I almost dropped dead by the seventh floor.

4) I miss SMAWP 2017, LAC’s unofficial meeting room :-)

5) I miss the co-curricular facilities, the giant Student Activities Department (FSCC’s second home), the dryers, cheap chicken chop (only RM4.50! A steal! Here it costs twice that), Hot Science Guys (Scoping out Hot Arts Guys just doesn’t feel the same – and I might as well add that I could count the number of Hot Arts Guys with one hand. 2 fingers if you want to be all specific, and I have both their phone numbers, too. Aren't you so jealous?), and the clean toilets.

Ahh, yessss. Cleeean toiletsssss. I could write a thousand words about the terrible state of the toilets, but then I thought why not take some photos instead? After all, they say a photo is worth a thousand words. And my camera certainly cost that much (in ringgit, though, not words, doofus).

So I give you 6000 words.

Here's the bigger toilet of the two; it's filthy, blocked and some of my roommates are very... violent when they, err, do their business; as you can see, the seat of the loo has come right off.

Close-up shot of violated loo.

Disgusting, right? We don't even use this sink because it's blocked. Otherwise, we would have scrubbed the hell out of it a long time ago.

Shower stalls. There are 3, and this is actually the cleanest.

Because I knew you were curious

The mushrooms growing out of the doorway. Come on, how could I resist showing you guys that?

You'd actually think that the condition of my toilet is horrible. Well, it is, but it's still useable. The toilet in the room next to mine has clogged loos -- the girls confessed to peeing on the floor.

As you can see, the conditions of Nilai brings out the savages within ourselves, ala Lord of The Flies. I'm expecting an inter-dorm war to break out any time soon.

Hear that? Yeah, that's me, screaming.

AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!



I. Can't. Wait. For. Holidays. To. Start.

I'm kind of even dreading going to Gombak now.

Oh, and um, in case anyone's wondering, the audition to be MC this morning went OK. Whether I get it or not, it doesn't really matter to me. I'm a crappy MC, anyway. I'm bad at controlling unexpected situations, and deviating from the script gives me the heeby-jeebies. I think the only reason I get chosen so often is because no one else speaks with an accent like mine.

I'd love to blog more about my auditions, but the highlight of it was actually when one of the interviewers opened the door while I was in the middle of my auditions, to find Olfa and Hawa crouched on all fours behind it, listening in on me. Her exclamation of 'Ya Allah!' was hilarious, and almost made me lose my concentration.

Also: I'm kind of pissed off right now. I guess that's the direct result of finding out that someone mentions your name in their blog, saying you have a "silly crush" on their boyfriend. But my pissed-off state isn't obvious, is it?

Anisah Shurfa.... celebrity?

Mimin, Gee, Maira and I settle comfortable on the straw mat next to our beds and begin to help ourselves to the delivery that had just arrived. Usually, it takes about an hour for McDonald’s delivery to arrive after we place the order, even though the closest McDonald's is less than five minutes away by car. But this time, it had taken less than half an hour after Mimin had placed the order through my phone (I was the only one who had more than RM5 worth of credit, and I had asked Mimin to call because talking on the phone always makes me nervous). Not only that, we had also gotten a free banana pie.

A miracle indeed.

As I bite into my Spicy Chicken Mc Deluxe, Mimin suddenly turns to me and says, ‘it should have been you who went down to pick up the delivery, not me and Maira.’

‘Huh?’ I say, bewildered, mouth full of mayonnaise, chicken, lettuce and bun. ‘But it was you guys who offered to go down.’

‘Yeah, but the delivery guy must have been so disappointed to not see you. He was looking at Maira and I so expectantly, that we both started laughing.’

Maira nods.

‘Huh…?’ Okay, I’m really lost now.

‘Just now, when I called the delivery, using your phone and name, the person on the other end was so excited. I could hear him telling his colleagues in the background, “it’s Anisah Shurfa!” and they all started talking at once. They kept mentioning your name and made so much noise – like they were in the market!’

‘You’re kidding!’ I am truly taken aback now, my food forgotten.

‘I swear it’s true,’ Mimin insists, grinning.

‘But how – ?’

We immediately start throwing out theories.

‘Maybe they’ve seen your subtitles and the name Anisah Shurfa on TV!’

‘Maybe they read my blog!’

‘Or maybe they just liked the name so much!’

I give Gee a withering glare. ‘No. That can’t be the only reason.’ I like the thought of being a celebrity among, of all people, the employees of Nilai’s McDonald’s branch too much to even consider that their excited reaction is just because they find my name peculiar.

‘I know!’ says Mimin eagerly. ‘Remember how, last semester, PS went all the way to McD’s to surprise you with food one night? He’s so outgoing, he must have told the employees there all about the girl he’s buying the food for. And they must have written your name down and waited for the day Anisah Shurfa orders a delivery.’

We all burst into laughter at the most ridiculous theory yet.

‘And when the delivery guy saw you two, he must be wondering, how come the girl PS likes is so much taller than him?’ I giggle.

‘I still believe in my theory!’ says Gee confidently, shaking her head at our absurdity.

Maira stares at the free banana pie in her hand. ‘No wonder they gave us this for free!’

That brings another round of laughter.

‘Wait!’ I say, another theory forming in my mind. ‘You know, early this semester, I ordered from McD’s too. And the delivery guy was really young and cute. Maybe,’ I smile slyly, ‘maybe he formed a huge crush on me and told all his colleagues about me!’

The other girls snort disbelievingly. ‘That’s the most unbelievable one yet!’

‘Either that, or I’m a celebrity,’ I say airily, trying to stop myself from giggling. ‘It’s a pity I didn’t go downstairs myself to pick up the delivery. But you know how we celebrities are.’ I glance slyly at Maira and Mimin. ‘We’re so busy, we have to get other, less important, people to represent us and do our more lowly work.’

‘Belah la Anisah!!’ they shriek in unison.