Shit Happens

No, this is not for you. Don't worry. Please.

Many things happened.

There were the good, the bad, and the ugly. The ugly, yes, we shall not leave out the ugly, shan’t we?

Everyone had problems. The argument between roommates. The silent treatment with classmates. The cold war between coursemates. The problems and show-cause letters with lecturers. The ones busted skipping assemblies (read: me).

But seriously, that’s not what we want to recall in like, 10 years from now? We’d only look and laugh at what a fool we were.

Anyway, the point here is, problems happen. SHIT HAPPENS. But don't ever let those things ruin our friendship, our bond. We may argue once in a while, yell at each other, but that’s healthy. Perfectly healthy. I tell you when you’re being an arrogant son of a bitch, and you tell me when I’m being a pain in the ass, so that we realise that we’re doing the wrong thing, so that next time, there will be NO NEXT TIME. So that when we’re about to do something, we bear in mind that somebody may get hurt. That way, we learn. We grow up.

Also, forgive and forget. It’s healthy to argue but DELUSIONAL to hold grudges. You make mistake, you screw up, it’s wisest to apologise. Forget about your ego, forget about losing. Forget about the bad time, forget why you argue; and think about all the good time you had with that person. All the memories, all the help, the laughter, the fun, the time spent together.

And forgive, no matter how wrong that person is, for him or her to have taken the courage to ask for your apology, you should forgive. Not many will be able to do that, but when you do it, you’ll feel great. You’ll feel awesome. You feel like somebody’s taken a heavy burden off your chest; regardless of you the one apologizing or forgiving. And no, unlike One Republic, it’s not too late to apologise. Or forgive. It never is.

Well beautiful and handsome people, I support world peace. Spread the love. We rock =)

To-do lists

who else do you think I should whine to anyways?

• Get the register from HEP
• See Madam Nadia, the tutor
• See Mr. Chan Fan Ho and ask about last semester's ISL files
• Get the rep for Malay Literacy (and the boys if possible) to get ML books
• Give Madam Faezah our class name list. 
• Photostat tons of name lists
• Madam Soo Hoo wants to see me tomorrow--first thing in the morning 
• ISL Phonology which is basically homework

You know I think I'm French inside. Yeah, the all-perasan-so-full-of-myself business. Well, if genes dont determine races you could just be anything you want to, and I want to be French. It's sexy, I guess. And there's something call the French kiss...and...

Ok let's stop the raunchy business, shall we? 

Anyway, the point is, I've been plugging in to French songs lately. Not much rock anymore boys, sorry to say. I hardly understand a word, for I haven't learnt French yet. By saying that I mean I would love to learn it someday, after I've completed my Spanish. Cut the crap.

Yeah, French songs. Among the ones I love are Chapeaumelon and Plastic Bertrand. Oh, Plastic Bertrand, who would forget the cool classic punk hit Ça plane pour moi?

I adore the song to bits, singing and saying the famous phrase all the time like it was some kind of a mantra. Well, it actually means that "All is well for me".

Which is, ironically, not the case for Mademoiselle Mimi Schuhada Mimieux.

(Please dont write in and tell me that for making up a French last name I aint respecting my father. Go jump from Eiffel Tower.)

First day into the semester, I was elected as the class head. Lame-o, exactly. Well, it's responsibility anyways. Just my luck, I guess. I accept the work with open heart and open mind but please you look at the workload!


This is impossible. I am basically the bitchiest gal in class. The most problematic one, the laziest one. The most unorganised one. I am not the class head material, obviously.


Which is probably why they elected me.


Shit, how am I going to skip assemblies next time? Maybe I'll behave this sem. We'll see.

First Love Never Dies

“I found him.”

In the dark I could see her eyes gleaming. After all these years of wondering whatever happened to her first love, first true love, she found the man whom she used to love deeply.

I couldn’t tell if she was smiling though. But I was, for I was happy for her. I remember vividly about her telling me of their love stories when she came and paid me a visit to Penang. She told me the story with all her heart that it touched mine, too.

She was 16, young and innocent. Yes, very, as compared to her darling daughter whom at the age of 16 turned her room into a dance floor, she is very innocent. Oh and well like her, the daughter is very beautiful too.

Now cut that out.

So she was this beautiful 16 years old lass who left home and came all the way to Penang is search of life. Never mind that.

And for she was (and still is) so beautiful and has a charming smile, came a nice young lad in her life. He was older, maybe 23.

He was a boy, and she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious?

lelove

Like what we see in fairy tales they fell in love. Duhh.

He would come to her place at night, buy her burger for supper, calling for her name, waiting for the love of his life to come out. It was a pity there was no balcony. It would have been so Romeo-and-Juliet. Or, he would’ve climb up, slipped, and died. Haha.

The girl, heart racing wildly to see her sweetheart, even through the window, would think of all the tricks in the world to get out, to see him. Never mind the burger.

At this point I must explain that she was living with an aunt so fierce, in a flat so high, that as I wrote this it reminds me of Rapunzel, only without the hair.

“I can still remember his face. His body, all thin and tall, slouching a little, waiting for me, one hand holding a plastic bag with two burgers. Modal nak dating.  I would then make up excuses to go out; like something fell out of the window and that I had to go get it. I guess my aunt never fell for that, but she understood. Then we would eat together....And talked....*sigh*”

That must be the fondest memory. It meant so little to anyone else but so much to her, after almost 30 years.

She told me of her first date too. Apparently they were set up by friends. He was working in Komtar and she was to meet her blind date there. She would kill me if I do that though. She brought along a girl friend and together they waited for the blind date to appear when he was, all along, been standing, leaning against the wall just almost in front of them, at the place where now there’s this Municipal Office or something and people selling clothes, scarves, brooches, that place.

And first love never dies. The beautiful lass was my mother. The young lad wasn’t my father. Had she married him I wouldn’t be Mimi Schuhada Mimieux, writing about their love story.

He married some other girl. Someone older.

They would’ve made one fine couple, but his family (read: mother) rejected her because she was from Perak and he’s a Penangite and what not, which was pretty lame.

love and geography dont mix well sometimes. lelove.

It was also pretty heartbreaking because they loved each other. She fled to Kuala Lumpur after a while, with a broken heart.

lelove

Come on people my mother is stronger than that, because that’s where I got it from. *flip hair*

After almost 30 years, in 2010 she made me to google him up, look for him in Facebook, all to no avail. But recently she found him. Well she didn’t actually, but a cousin who used to hang out with them when the two were dating bumped into him in a wedding.


I guess it makes her feel good that he is still alive. 

I imagine there’d be fireworks in her heart. She is a good wife, a good, loyal wife to a husband. But he was her first 
love, her first true love, and first love never dies.

it wont be this easy. lelove

P.s. I guess I haven’t find my first true love yet.