Hugh Grant is my 'somethings'

That's just it really. I have absolutely nothing to look forward to. 'Nothing' in a sense of 'something that can cheer me up'. You always need these 'somethings'. It's the only way anybody can ever be happy or content, at least. An ingrate I am but really, aren't we all? Ingrates?

Okay, that's rather off topic here. Back to my need of a 'something' to look forward to.

Why? Because there's too much important academic things to bother with and not a speck of pleasurable 'somethings' to distract myself for the 'in betweens'. These 'in betweens' are important so that I don't get stuck in a rut and take to writing 50 poems daily and wallow in my shallow misery brought forth by my self concocted boilings of boredom and stress.

I'm a piece of work. I've this irrepressible need to inject significance into my all too dull life by working up these wild notions of how humanity is in a decrepit state and that by writing soppy rhymes (I dare not call them poems) I'm able to somehow soothe my so called 'tortured' soul. I just like the idea. Isn't it romantic? We're all hypocrites anyway. It shouldn't matter too much.

So, I invented one, a 'something' for me to indulge in. That is, Hugh Grant. This is random and all but yeah. I've taken to watching his movies and is currently spectacularly smitten by him. Crow's feet and all, I think he's beautiful that way. I adore his dry wit. And his accent! He can utter such unpeakables and make them sound absolutely endearing. "A cynical, self loathing cad, an anti-movie star." That's what the media describes him as. *smiles*

It's funny that I keep falling for half-century old actors like Keanu and Hugh. Haha, I don't know what to say. I think I should stop here. Any further and this will turn into a gushing fest. Aye, it would. I'd write about how they're 'tortured souls' with a mask for the media when they actually do, care for the 'suffering humanity'.

Hahahaha....ahhh, I'm such a pariah.

And before I forget:

www.puddle-of-ink.blogspot.com

Do visit. Me and an acquaintance of mine, mai mai , we're collaborating on this project thing. We wish to compile short stories and, my uh, rhymes. What for? I scarcely know myself. Ask mai, it's her idea. I'm just delighted to have something to do. Haha.

From now on, I'll be posting my, well, pieces there. I'm rubbish really but it'll kill me if I don't write anything.

P.S: Jeez every single syllable of this post is saucy. *sigh*

Dyslexia & Me

Yeap, that's me alright.

I'm tired. It's that wall again. That damned wall that ALWAYS gets at me.

Yes, It's Maths, as usual. When I get frustrated, things just don't compute no matter how hard I try. It's true, it's like I'd stare at some sort of equation and I see it and all, but it stops there. The 'sense' of the workings that's supposed to come with it is, just. NOT. THERE. This has always been my achilles' heel since, like I don't know, forever?

Oh I can still remember back then when I can't even read or write properly. Felt like a retard, hated school. Positively hated anything that had to do with 'learning'. I threw a fit or a tantrum whenever my mom asked me to study. I'm absolutely grateful that the reading/writing hell was a phase I could get over. Looking back now, it is kinda funny but it sure was NOT funny back then.

Like, I pronounced everything in a jumbled kind of way. 'Battery' was 'Brattey', 'Animals' was 'Aminals', 'Pencen' was 'Cenpen'. Letters were hard too. 'b' and 'd', 'p' and 'q' and all that nonsense. They looked like squiggles really.

I liked stories. I liked how there was a film playing in my mind when my parents read me bedtime stories which got me to love to read. I suppose when you read a lot, the problem just sort itself out. Not that I was terribly dyslexic in the first place. We, my older brother and I are only mildly dyslexic. Adi, the youngest only has it when he's little, he's a really smart kid. Way smarter than us haha. I'm pretty sure this thing runs in the family, dad has it (I think he's a brilliant man BECAUSE he's dyslexic :P), we had it. Hopefully our kids won't have it so bad =.= ahaha.

I'll always remember this most though, I was in standard two, and we had to write this short composition for BM. I handed mine to the teacher, she took a look at it and chucked my book across the classroom. Pretty dramatic. Boy was I freaked out. Didn't want to go to school the next day. See, what got her mad was:

- I wrote the composition from right to left (like Jawi).

- The letters are ALL jumbled. In some word they were in mirror images of the original one and sometimes they're not.

The teacher thought I was making fun of her. *sigh*

One more thing, I'll tell you a secret. All these spelling problem actually came back! when I type out sms-es. Yeah, freaked me out big time. Discovered this when I first got a cellphone. I tried to text a friend of mine and found that I couldn't spell. Jeez. But it was temporary. I think it's jus because I wasn't used to it. Ehehe.

As for sekolah agama? Haha. I SUCKED at it REAL bad. I studied with kids a year younger than me because I was that stupid. But really, I couldn't even get the roman letters right and they wanted me to get the jawi right? In which they looked a helluva lot more similar??? Hell no, I couldn't do it. There was 'sod' & 'do', 'tho' & 'zho', 'ba' & 'ta', 'ra' & 'zai'...etc etc. ENDLESS squiggles that looked INCREDIBLY alike.

I excelled in Sirah but screwed up Arabic. Failed it always. Jawi was bad enough then there's Arab! A whole nother language! when I couldn't even process my own mother tongue! HA HA HA. It piss me off even now actually. Egh.

Oh, there was 'Left' and 'Right' too. It did not make sense AT ALL to me at first. Haha. They were just 'one way or the other, what did it matter?' I can get these down correctly now though it remains that I've 0 directional skills. Ask anybody who's close to me and they'd concur. I get lost at school for god's sake. I never got to pin point which lab was which in high school. *shrugs*

And now, MATHS. The times table was my arch enemy. The sight of those 'X's between them numbers just screamed 'WRONG WRONG WRONG!!!' to me. I lost count of how many times I had to stand in class, or get a whack on the palm or get yelled at. It wasn't pleasant at all.

No, it ISn't pleasant at all. Not was. I still suck at maths. Maths is like art gone wrong to me. There's all these pretty shapes in it, but there's a language in the picture. One I can never master. It's a pity really. And yes yes, I've a math test coming, that's why I'm venting. I'm having one of my gazillion mental blocks when I try to study maths, but I can't, so I get frustrated and here I am. Hah.

P.S: It'd be way cool if I'm like Percy Jackson who's a demi-god and am hard wired for ancient greek. Hahaha. That's a nice fantasy take on being dyslexic! For those who saw the movie, the parts where it showed how Percy couldn't read and the words started shifting around? That's so not true! haha. It'd be kinda cool if that really does happen...at least it'll be entertaining.

Dancing With Sanity.

She danced across the blues and landed in a puddle of orange. The tangy citrus scent pinched her nose and it made her smile. Splashes of pink burst all around her face making her giggle and topple over. Greens and indigos crept up her arms and intertwined themselves in her hair. A bolt of white and grey struck near her head and she laughed delightedly. Sally rolled over a bed of purple and she crawled towards the yellow fluffs. Aquamarine blew into her face and danced in her eyelashes. It was then, when everything turned black. Sally woke up.

She was all alone in an inky darkness that enveloped her in a tight embrace. Sally opened her mouth and tried to scream. The darkness swallowed everything except for Sally. She could only see her own body. The heavy mass of blackness suddenly lightened and turned hazy. Sally felt herself floating. She tried to scream again before she realized her mouth was no more. Instead a gaping hole shaped in a perfect circle has formed.

Sally kept floating. It was not long before she started crying. To her astonishment, her tears were multicoloured. Every single drop sparkled against the black surrounding. Sally’s tears did not fall, they floated around her like fireflies. When she reached out to her tears they scatter. Helpless she watched them fade away. A faint hissing noise started to echo, reverberating, as if bouncing against a metal container. The hiss started to multiply, it turned into a din that hurt Sally’s ears.

Scrunching her eyes shut and clamping her ears with her hands Sally curled into a ball. Folding into herself, the noise started to grew faint. Until, it was abruptly dead quiet. Sally opened her eyes only to be blinded by a whiteness that had replaced the cold dark. As her sight readjusted Sally saw the familiar flower field beneath her. The sea of colourful flowers seemed oddly frozen. Cold even. It was then that Sally realized that she had not been flying. No. She was falling. Sally smiled and closed her eyes. This time, peacefully. It was time.