I love u Kong, Prajie, Pala, Simitha and Viki!!!

There I was, on a Saturday afternoon.. after my dad told me we had extra tickets for a table for a formal dinner to be graced by the Yam Tuan NS.. (yes, the kinda old guy whose picture you've probably seen in the papers and stuff.. )and I'd figured I'd be damned letting these RM 2000 worth of tickets go 2 waste.. n i thought none of my frens would care to join me at a boring "if u laughed too loud, everyone would turn and stare at the offencers" dinner.. but i was wrong..(one of the few times I was happy I was wrong)

I almost cried tears of joy when i saw u heroes give up a Saturday night to come with me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am serious.. and for you guys to give up jeans and the usual T-shirt to don collared shirts (the whole formal attire) and at such a short notice.. (just 5 hours!) just for me.. *karthini brushes away a tear..*
I LOVE U GUYS!!!!!!!!!!
THANK YOU !!!!!!!!!!

p.s. i love u guys..
I can't believe we had sooo much fun.. I am really gonna miss u all.. *karthini tries to hold back the waterfall of tears inside*

So, there I was lying in my bed..

So, there I was lying in my bed.. it was what, 1 p.m? And as I dragged my still half asleep body to the bathroom, narrowly avoiding walking smack into the door,something I do with alarming consistency (which would probably explain my blunt nose), I think, finally something to look forward to in my not so eventful life, a blogspot.

This blogspot.
Yes,it's sad.

But, there was this phase (I'm sure most girls go through, including me) where we want to remember every detail of every single day.. as if living in such happiness.. such utter bliss, might get taken away from us.. (realistically,after all nothing good lasts forever..)so naturally, we want to keep it all in a private "place" which can be frequented as much as one wants without having to rely on memory..(yes, I admit I am one of those who cant remember names even if it was tattooed on my forehead)

Anyway, as I was saying.. these feelings are just so special especially if it was the first time.. so I tried the "Dear diary, bla, bla, bla.. " I even hid it in a rather clever hiding place *or so I thought* in my .. you know.. fine, I'll say it..sanitary pad drawer.. (yes, I have one, I've got so many drawers in my room, I figured something that haunts me for 5 days a month deserves one)

It was not long before my darling brother just barged into my room (no, I'm not stupid..our rooms are connected through a bathroom, so I cant lock that door) to find me shoving a real nice colourful flowery *might as well do it in style ;D* book under my pillow.. it took him less than a minute to wrestle me to the ground and get his slimy hands on the book before he realised what it was, and visibly embarassed returned it..(what he initially thought it was is still unknown and remains a great mystery)

After that, I just never felt safe..

But anyway, here I am.. already feeling much better knowin that I'm able to speak up and be heard -I'll just pretend I get daily hits- *have a lil imagination, it makes life seem so much better! that or just get really pissed in the drunken early hours of a Saturday *

Either way, Life is meant to be lived.. and no matter what I say, I'm still dreadin tomorrow.. as it will mark yet another day closer to continuing my studies (which will start in 20 days)..

tick-tock.. Oh no.

Make that 19 days.

I remember the tragic incident all too clearly..

I remember the tragic incident all too clearly.. It all started on a Thursday night.

My brother asked.. wait, more like ordered me to fry/cook/grill (whatever the thing u do to burgers is) burgers for me and my brother for dinner.. So, I said.. ok fine, I retorted that I would get it done later..

By the time I had gone downstairs,he was mumbling unintelligibly *most probably cursing, no prizes for guessin at who* as I came late.. (the poor guy had to wait for two whole minutes). He had, being the genius he is,in order to thaw the burgers, dipped the whole lot in water!!! (Okay,I might have overdramatised the whole thing with the multiple exclamation marks). The burgers were all sticking together as if they were just reunited after being separated since birth, and I just managed to salvage two.. meaning the other two were permanantly disfigured as I was not being able to tell where one ended and the next one began.. As I slapped them onto the pan, I could hear my 16-year old brother laughing hysterically at some tv programme upstairs..

The damn pig.

But I could have the last laugh, I decided.. I was going to get... *drumroll*.. the two perfect burgers!! (yes, I realise the build-up was more than the end product)But, at least the thought of it put a smile on my face.. I put my round nicely made burgers in between slices of bread which was slathered with mayonaise and butter, added Lingam's chilli sauce and was about to dig in ..

Suddenly, "Hey, it's not fair!!" my brother shouted.. "How come you got the good burgers?!" (and all the brains, i was dying to add..) "Too bad!" I almost shouted back in reply, the whole acting like a bunch of 7 year olds was really contagious, but I held myself back.. "Well,moron, you're the one who dipped them in water!" I shouted back. Acting like a 5 year old was way more fun. "Well, I don't care! You must take one bad burger so it's equal," said he. ...Well, I'm sure you could use a little imagination to figure out the continuation to this conversation.

At one point, I can't recollect what he said or did.. but it couldnt have been very nice as I was made to believe that the only way to stop the childish bickering was to permanantly lodge my fist in his face, and so I did(making him look a whole lot better in the process) when it happened.

'Click'.

I looked down and realised that one of my fingernails had broken halfway.. to be precise, the fourth/ring finger on my right hand. I looked up again and my brother wasnt there. Like magic or something. *Now I realise it's more likely that he ran away in fear* Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I went up to my room.

I cried.

I really don't know why I cried. It didn't really hurt. It was just that I had always wanted to have long fingernails, and when I finally could (these damn schools don't allow long fingernails, though I personally think they would help lower the rape statistics if used for self'defence). I had failed the first few times, breaking or chipping them. I had finally managed to maintain such long nails as I had gotten used to them. Like it was a part of me. Like a pet, or a toe or something.

What I learnt was that with effort, anything is possible. Hey, everyone fails the first few times because of their own mistakes, but even if someone else or something gets in your way, I'll still won't give up.

But the real lesson I learnt was never to lay even a fingernail on my brother, God might be watching.. next time I'll just kick him real hard and then follow through with a clean uppercut.. (finally I can put my long limbs to good use)

P.s. For all those interested, my fingernail is currently recovering from the traumatising experience and is rather comfortable tucked in her plaster.

I'm a 6 feet tall, 65 kilos, 17 year-old brown-eye...

I'm a 6 foot tall, 65 kilos, 17 year-old brown-eyed brunette lawyer wannabe.. I feel almost trapped in this world where people judge me before they even know me..but, yeay! at least i'm not the only one..

First, they judge you by your appearance, (although as I grow older, I realise that looks really doesnt mean anything..*i'm refering to one's body.. not the way one is dressed n etc*) Then comes the ultimate almost inevitable question.. What are you doing, young girl?(a question almost always posed to me by my parents frens) What am I doing? What do you mean what am I doing?! Have you no eyes to see?!

But I answer politely " I'm talking to you, of course" with a sweet smile plastered on, knowing very well they were refering to my "status" as in where I was studying, and what career i intended to pursue..all so that they could continue to judge me while keeping that im so very interested look on their faces while pushin away the urge to yawn.. incredible multitaskers, I must say..

But, I might be jumping to conclusions, I'm sure some of them are just asking these questions to fit in.. almost everyone who has kids just loves talking about them *especially if they're high-acheivers-My son is really intelligent, he started reading at three!* So, they ask these questions hoping against hope that the question will be returned.

But god, I just LOVE them (just sometimes).. harmless creatures they are, while being ever so polite all the time (or trying to anyway) while my generation is the TOTAL opposite (generally, I dont want hate mail) sporting these serious, pissed off looks.. haha!! but hey, I love them too.. really brightens up my day- the fake n clearly made up angry face of a fellow teenager..

Ooh yea.. I LURVE d world..