19. A Sudden Surge of Activity

You must be wondering why this blog is suddenly revving back to life.

It's all because I searched myself up in Google.

Yes, I admit it. I do that (mostly it's because I want to check what's the first URL in the results; unfortunately, it's my Twitter. :[ ). Yeah, you do it too.

A post by this blogger called Caitlin (who follows this blog. SORRY I'VE DONE A GREAT DISSERVICE TO YOU) turned up at the recesses of the Results page, prompting me to take a look. She mentioned this blog. She said she was inspired by the idea behind it.

And my brain clicked.

If this silly blog could inspire someone, even just a little bit, to consider their lives, then by gosh, it better keep on living for that purpose. If I can inspire one person, what if I could inspire 2 or 10 or a billion?!

So thank you, Caitlin, for INSPIRING me.

Keep on dreaming!

18. Made A Friend

She's cute, and smart and adorable. I like her. She's 11.

Children make the cutest friends. Especially when you treat them as equals. You'd be surprised, when you throw down the barriers and prejudices, at realising who they really are. It works.

17. My Comic Project Turned One Year Old

They say that nobody cares.

Well, I CARE. And that's all that matters, doesn't it?

A Certain Comic Project of mine, which I won't mention a lot, turned one yesterday (March 31st). I first conceived the idea a week before that March 31st, but the idea officially started around the end of March, so that's its birthday (also, my brain almost got fuzzed up remembering WHEN I ACTUALLY created it).

It's not a big deal, but to me, it is. Most of my ideas never last for more than one year (including this blog; it almost died. Luckily someone has given me inspiration to come back), so to finally see an idea that survived Fickle Artist Syndrome is quite...something. It says a lot about the idea.

I've been continuously working on it for 365 days. I sacrificed so many things for the sake of my Project. I loved it. It's my life.

Happy Birthday, TWIDI. I can't wait for your 2nd birthday!

16. Joined (And Made!) An Art Group

Click for the blog!

Ever since I was 14; I've always wanted to be a part of an artistic team.

In my 14 years old skull, I dreamt up of ten thousand ways my team could possibly be made famous: movies, blogs, unrealistically fantastic art, books, cereal bowls, underwear, anything!

In my post-puberty head, all of us were hopping up the stage to pick up our Oscar for Best Animated Film/Short, with only a few words to say as our Thank You speech; "HA, TOLD YOU SO."

In my mid-adolescent mind, we worked in a house in a forest. And the house in the forest was where weird and funny things happen.

We haven't gotten there yet.

Hopefully we will.

What I'm also giddy about is that Obscurus, the name for my "imaginary, dream" art team when I was 14, was chosen for the one I'm joining.

IT'S A SIGN.

15. Straight As For PMR

Reposted from Ashelisms: HOORAY PMR RESULTS

This is a more typical version of any Malaysian teenager looking back 24 hours ago the tragic and joyous event that determines every fabric of their future.
(If they don't spoil it first, with too much Softlan or Breeze or regurgitated junk food)
Rather than the purposefully prose-y and showy way I used to describe it: Click if you're interested in that sorta thing.
Here's how Normal Me would write it:

THAT DAY HAS COMETH.
Urgh, how time flies. Three months ago I posted rather silly pictures of myself (but it did get the point across) being happy that this horrible dreadful terrible exam was over. And a picture of Josh Groban and me. Wish that was real too, though. :(

ONE THING I WILL SURELY ASK FOR AS MY PMR REWARD IS JOSH GROBAN.

Coming through my door like this.
Sunlight like a halo and all.
Wearing that.

AHEM ANYWAY

I woke up pretty early because I wanted to be there early and see everyone break down and laugh at them. But I didn't arrive there early nor see everyone break down nor laugh at them. As usual, THINGS HAPPEN and far too often, it favours me.

About 3.9/4 into the first journey to my school, I found out that my ridiculous school won't let anyone in without the school uniform. And I certainly did not have my uniform on. So we went back for that.

About 1/4 into the second journey, I found out that my ridiculous school required an IC. What for, I don't know. And I certainly did not bring my IC. So we went back for that.

WASTED ABOUT 40 MINUTES.

ARRIVED THERE LATE.

The school looked anti-climax.

I mean, I hardly saw anyone on the floor in a faint or crying.

There were a lot of rain puddles. Could be tears.

So I saw my friends and found out their results before mine. Because there's no hope for me if any of them gets a B.
Awesome Friend Brenda got all As, Personal Einstein Chewie I don't need to say, and Old Friend Nastasia wasn't there.

I really didn't feel scared when I walked up to the table where my class teacher was. I thought I would suffer from panic attacks, but strangely, I was...calm. I took it LIKE A MACHO MAN. It was really surreal. Like it's not happening.

But here it is:


My 3 seconds of joyous, heavenly revelation was in this order:

1. The obligatory 'Oh, God' (x3)
2. The maintenance of a dignified composure
3. Once out of sight of dignified authorities, ULTIMATE RELIEF.

Well, now I can get into Science Stream, I can think about my Psychology-or-Artist dilemma a little more realistically. Because now that I have these results, the problem is not a faraway, it-will-happen-in-a-thousand-years-in-another-dimension thing that you would just ruminate about under a coconut tree anymore. It's an urgent, it-will-happen-soon-and-it-will-be-in-this-world kinda thing .

Anyway, what I have to prove that I existed in my school are these hilariously ill-timed photos in which I happen to not look awesome:

Beautiful.

Wish the Form 2'ers the best of luck next year! SCIENCE AND MATHS IN BM, YO. Torture.

Now back to my Comic Project. And eating a real breakfast. And drawing.