Agitated

Well that's me, apparently. Easily agitated. Sensitive. Mild tempered. Or at least, in the eyes of the people around me, that's what I like.

I'm not always like that though, at least not when I was a child. I had serious parents, grew up in a pretty strict environment and I've always been an obedient little lad. Because obedience means zero punishment. Sometimes it's rewarding. And to be frank, I was scared of punishments back then. Usually, as they say, as everybody says, a child raised under high expectations will grow up to be a rebel or a coward. I think I'm the latter. Often unsure. Often belittling myself on heights that I can't achieve. And what will I do if I found myself in exceptionally frustrating circumstances? That's right -- I take it out on the petty little things, little insignificant details that seemed to agitate no one but me. My sister pointed out to me though, my nasty urge to scoff at harmless imperfections I've set my eyes upon.

I reprimanded Sherlock for its extremely underwhelming ending. I hurled insults to TV and radio shows for being so pretentious (and sometimes revolting). I chastised online posts and pictures for their stupidity. The list simply goes on. I'm all butt-hurt from unintentional comments and critiques made by my friends. Thanks to the environment I was brought up in, I can't take much pleasure from things around me. A lot of things could set me off, even minor defects, unnoticeable flaws.

I've made no secret of my disdain towards pretentious douche-bags and flaunty, conspicuous individuals. But little do I know, I'm no different from any other pretentious little men. I put up a great show to those who I want to impress (and especially to strangers and people I'm not really fond of) and the next moment I'll be talking behind their backs. Back-stabbing, if the audience were keen enough to join the fun. I've always called out that dear fr-enemy of mine, Kong, for his flashy, douche-y behavior which made everybody miserable, but whenever I'm within his vicinity, I'm all smiles. There's a neighbor (a hostel neighbor) called Lee, whom I've always criticized too, behind his back all the time. And the next moment when he's around, we're like bros. There's something very unsettling for hypocrites though. We'll have an inevitable feeling that everybody is just as pretentious as we are, and the next moment we're out of sight, we'll be despised the same way as we despise others. We revel in criticism but we fear of being criticized. Some of my friends who were particularly blissful and simple in nature associated my self-depreciating behavior and easily-offended nature to my extremely self-conscious character and exceptionally low self-esteem. It's half-true, at most. Though I don't want to admit it, these sensitive nerves of mine are the ghostly hauntings of my hypocritical nature.

It feels so damn good to let it off my chest, of who I really am, of the flaws of my life. I'm not perfect. I know there's someone out there, who really thinks I'm a great goody-goody scholar (though nerdy), who has his path laid out for the rest of his perfect little life. If there's the least I've learnt, there's a story to every single soul out there, pure or stained alike. And again, I'm not perfect. We're all not perfect.

Lapse

And here I am, still alive. Yay! *Throw hands in the air.*

I'm utterly surprised by my exceedingly consistent ability to procrastinate. It even took me hours to type these first few lines, literally. I've dawdled through my post-exam moments, my vacation to the haven for blue tears (though to be disappointingly frank, there weren't much of them), and my disastrous Ipoh trip with my friends. New Year's resolutions, too simple to make, too hard to realize. Mine was three words: Get Shit Done. And seriously, I'm drowning in pools of shit and poo every day I put off my stuff.

I made up my mind not to make blogging as a burden I used to have while I was keeping a tedious diary entry per day last time, so maybe I'll repress my OCD from kicking in and giving me pangs of guilt if I lapsed or missed an entry. Anyway, back to my plans. Before I'm going to burn away my short-lived semester break (like I did to my many other breaks), I want to make and keep a personal list of the things I would like to do during this brief getaway.

A. Important stuff

     1. Get my CV done and complete the god-knows-what online internship system ASAP.

     2. Go look up and do some survey on local companies for internship purposes. Preferably companies in Tasek or IGB. Top Glove, I suppose.

     2. Get my quotation stuff done and update the adviser.

     3. Get started with the tedious arrangement and editing of the program booklet.

     4. Get the numbers from my room mate. And call the press. The schools. The radio stations. Oh what the hell. I shouldn't have taken that job.

B. Not-So Important Stuff (Leisure??)

     1. Download Sherlock Ep. 2 and 3. Heard 'The Lying Detective' was a blast!

     2. HM nostalgic walk-through. Hopefully for a full game year.

     3. At least learn to style my hair. Gonna change my nerdy look. I was so down in the dumps recently, coming to a realization that I'm just a know-it-all nerdy loser with buck teeth and a typical unappealing appearance compared to the people around me. I wasn't a fan of physical appearances and impressions before, but apparently, the society I'm in, shaped me into who I am today. My desperation for a more attractive look and personality. My feelings of personal inadequacies. I think I'll leave this for later.

     4. Figure how to make full (and good) use of the glass bottles. It'll be a shame if they gather dust.

     5. Work out. Make this a priority. I may be relatively built compared to the old me, but there are flaws. My still-skinny limbs (oh dear those poor chicken legs and pathetic wrists) and my slight paunch, I suppose. There are so many tell-tale signs that I'm lacking of proper training and diet. Oh, and enough sleep. If I can't have a charming face, the least I could do is to get ripped (or in shape) to boost my physical appearance.

     6. Get real on baking. It's no use drooling over the magnificent pastry wonders done by the awesome bakers in Youtube and MasterChef. Just do it.

     7. And hopefully, don't let this blog fade out of existence.

Seems less like a break now, doesn't it? Feels so good to waste my vacation on mundane stuff. After all, I'm not a fan for change. I'm a procrastinator, and I don't have the power to change that. I know, this alienates me from my peers, and hinders me from getting any future dates, but still.....

Old habits die hard.

Pilot

The fuck I was doing??! The exam is just two days away and here I am wanking off. I just don't feel like diving back into the books anymore, so here I am having my own sweet time creating a blog from scratch and efficiently burning my time away.

Anyway, like most series I've watched so far (except for Sherlock maybe), they all begin with pilots. And now I'm giving this blog one. Not to say I've never written an entry before.... in fact I had so many miserable, failed attempts at sustaining a fucking diary (the least failing attempt was 1 year ago when I got shunned and decided to have a book as my confidante).... well, this pilot marks my first attempt at electronic journalism. As I often told my friends (boasted, I think), journalism is the path I've always wanted but never realized. But sometimes I don't even have the slightest crave to tell stories, like all the amazing authors and storyboard artists and comic artists around the world do. Pure laziness kicking in. And uh, also, I indulge in escapism. Just looked up on that, by the way. I fantasize farm-boy-to-hero stories A LOT. Their humble origins intrigue me. Their adventures and paths to be the O-Chosen One wows me. The prophecies give me the butterflies (though I usually disgustingly brushes prophecies off as dumb cliches). The most intoxicating part is that every story of this kind is always written in the first person's POV, which can, odd enough, inexplicably drag you into the depths of that awesome world, where 'you' are the protagonist of that fabled world. Sometimes it will leave me reeling when I have to snap back to the reality. Okay, let's face it, it's not 'sometimes', it's 'every-time'. Unbelievably exhausting and exasperating.

So whether this will be a feeble attempt to caricature the life of an extraordinarily ordinary boy, or a mere distraction from my awful escapism addiction, or a one-time emotional vent, time will tell. Even I couldn't see to the end of all of this.

Ciao. (Wanted to write more, but my senses said no. I have a paper to tend to. Oh well.)