SAY HEL-LO TO MY NEW APPLE FRIEEEND.
I am now the proud owner of a not so new iPad! Glory hallelujah.
And of course, with the coming of new and shiny things, also comes new and shiny resolutions that I will most likely not keep.
Lets take it back a couple of years, shall we?
#1
The item: MacBook
The LIE: "I now have a private computer for all my writing, and photoshop, and graphics and garage band! GARAGE BAND - Im going to be such a diversified artiste (with the 'E', bitches.) in the next few years."
The depressing truth: Kay, sitting down to write, later experiment with that new photoshop tool you saw and - holy mother of balls, 6 Facebook notifications? Fuck art, imma be an internet celebrity.
#2
The item: Swanky new nike trainers.
The LIE: "I'm going to lose weight, and be fit. Not skinny per se, but healthy."
The depressing truth: The most 'worked out' muscles I had were my thumbs. And thats only because the xbox needs you to use both of them.
The not so depressing present: to be fair to myself, i have lost a considerable amount of weight, and gym or swim at least three times a week now, so HUZZAH!
#3
The item: Any instrument I attempted to play after the piano.
The LIE: I am going to be a prodigal child. Children will want to be me, while their parents pinch them and go "You see, you so lazy! Work a little harder and you could be playing like that!"
The depressing truth: My parents going "You see, you so lazy! Work a little harder and you could be playing like that!"
You should be getting the drift by now.
But just for shits and giggles, lets list down some resolutions for the iPad, shall we?
1. I WILL download an art program and USE it to practice in lieu of a sketch book.
2. I WILL practice writing more because I no longer have the excuse of not lugging around the MacBook. The iPads keypad could pass for a computers for shits sake.
3. I WILL finally download all those classic books that I told myself to read but wheedled out of by not getting a kindle and not wanting to buy paperbacks in the UK.
Lets see what actually goes down circa 2013.
nk.
Friday, 27 July 2012
Wednesday, 18 July 2012
Craptastic sans caffeine.
Crappiness seems to be a recurring theme this year. Maybe the Mayans fucked up and what's actually happening is that everyone (I'm generalising) would have a complete BITCH of a year, instead of the, admittedly more dramatic, end of the world.
But I've decided not to auto-purge all my problems onto this poor blog today. Today, I have decided to laud the person who helped me get out of the funk. So Jisho, thank you for the talk, and I am so so so glad that even though we spent a good portion of the 11 years I've known you without being friends, we eventually pulled through.
We'll crack open some champagne when our friendship hits 50, okay? My treat :)
nk
But I've decided not to auto-purge all my problems onto this poor blog today. Today, I have decided to laud the person who helped me get out of the funk. So Jisho, thank you for the talk, and I am so so so glad that even though we spent a good portion of the 11 years I've known you without being friends, we eventually pulled through.
We'll crack open some champagne when our friendship hits 50, okay? My treat :)
nk
Saturday, 14 July 2012
Post Script
ALSO
Apparently there's some study that says too much jet-lag reduces your intelligence.
I'm blaming future failures on this.
nk
Apparently there's some study that says too much jet-lag reduces your intelligence.
I'm blaming future failures on this.
nk
Writers block, the irony.
I've rewritten the opening sentence of this entry three times, not counting this attempt. This one survives the blessed (cursed?) backspace button because it's late and I'm waaaaay too frustrated to think of anything even mildly witty. And yet here I go again. Typing out words at speeds comparable to the rate that I'm skipping through my impoverished iTunes playlist because Zamzar has left the building, and I'm a little bored of all the songs that aren't 'Dovahkiin'.
Hence the irony.
(That I'm writing so much, not that I'm listening to the Skyrim soundtrack. Because FYI, it's AMAZING.)
Its befuddling. Confounding. Baffling. Puzzling! Err... stupefying?
...DISCOMBOBULATING!
(Yes, I did just pull out the thesaurus. But folks, it would seem that I have found my word of the week.)
But most of all, frustrating.
I sometimes despair that writing doesn't come to me as easily as it should. And when I say 'as easily as it should", I obviously mean "published by 15."And then I get a grip on myself, push the deadline back to 'published by 25' (fingers, and toes while we're at it, crossed) and wonder what is it I'm missing, y'know? Like... where's my theatrical catalyst? My 'event precipitator'? Batman had his parents gunned down, Spider-man had Uncle Ben gunned down, Superman had his planet... uh... exploded. Not suggesting that I want to don spandex and fight crime, obviously. Or that anyone should off my parents. Just... yknow.
Paolini quit school at 15 or something shit like that. Ripped off bits and pieces that I shall not point out from a beloved movie that I shall not name (unless you make me, go on, I DARE YOU) and STILL managed to sit pretty on not one, but FOUR best sellers. It's not even funny. I actually LOVE the first one for all its afore mentioned thievery.
And I'm stuck at university. Having churned out a measly 11 chapters in nigh over a year.
I hope I'm just lazy. Because the alternatives would be a) not talented enough and b)... I cant think of anything scarier than not talented enough. And that I refuse to believe.
Maybe I just need a change of scene. Writing fantasy can be a major brain drain... and this offer from Cracked is intriguing... and pretty tempting. They'd pay to have people churn out sarcasm loaded articles about pretty much anything as long as it's smart enough, and funny enough.
I could do that.
And it pays! Not superbly I'd imagine, but it pays. Anything to distract me from the harsh reality of the working world crashing down on my yet unprepared 20-year old shoulders that props up a brain still in denial that she is NEVER going to get that offer letter from Hogwarts, and that she should really give up the dream that she's going to wake up with the ability to move shit with her mind.
Where's Neverland when you need it eh?
While we're on that poorly thought-out segue (spelt that way, pronounced seg-way. Who knew?) I start work on Monday. Yup. Actual legal-ass work. That pays, yes. And I'm trying to get excited for it beyond the fact that I have an excuse to buy that snazzy blazer from Topshop that I've been eyeing forever, but it's HARD. Mostly because one thing that I've always promised myself is that I will never plant my butt behind a desk in an office cubicle with just enough space for no one to notice when I eventually end my suffering by strangling myself with the standard office telephone wire. And yet, if this degree didn't sign my ideal future's death warrant, this internship might.
I can't even say I hope that it proves me wrong... in the fear that I might be lulled into a false sense of 'this isn't so bad'. So said the sarlaac to its prey, right? If sarlaacs could say anything anyway. I dunno. I want to enjoy it... but yknow. I don't want to sell my soul to the suits either. Its confusing.
Oh and by the way, the irony meter has just hit approximately 650 words.
I think it's time to duck out, stage left. Ciao bella.
nk.
Hence the irony.
(That I'm writing so much, not that I'm listening to the Skyrim soundtrack. Because FYI, it's AMAZING.)
Its befuddling. Confounding. Baffling. Puzzling! Err... stupefying?
...DISCOMBOBULATING!
(Yes, I did just pull out the thesaurus. But folks, it would seem that I have found my word of the week.)
But most of all, frustrating.
I sometimes despair that writing doesn't come to me as easily as it should. And when I say 'as easily as it should", I obviously mean "published by 15."And then I get a grip on myself, push the deadline back to 'published by 25' (fingers, and toes while we're at it, crossed) and wonder what is it I'm missing, y'know? Like... where's my theatrical catalyst? My 'event precipitator'? Batman had his parents gunned down, Spider-man had Uncle Ben gunned down, Superman had his planet... uh... exploded. Not suggesting that I want to don spandex and fight crime, obviously. Or that anyone should off my parents. Just... yknow.
Paolini quit school at 15 or something shit like that. Ripped off bits and pieces that I shall not point out from a beloved movie that I shall not name (unless you make me, go on, I DARE YOU) and STILL managed to sit pretty on not one, but FOUR best sellers. It's not even funny. I actually LOVE the first one for all its afore mentioned thievery.
And I'm stuck at university. Having churned out a measly 11 chapters in nigh over a year.
I hope I'm just lazy. Because the alternatives would be a) not talented enough and b)... I cant think of anything scarier than not talented enough. And that I refuse to believe.
Maybe I just need a change of scene. Writing fantasy can be a major brain drain... and this offer from Cracked is intriguing... and pretty tempting. They'd pay to have people churn out sarcasm loaded articles about pretty much anything as long as it's smart enough, and funny enough.
I could do that.
And it pays! Not superbly I'd imagine, but it pays. Anything to distract me from the harsh reality of the working world crashing down on my yet unprepared 20-year old shoulders that props up a brain still in denial that she is NEVER going to get that offer letter from Hogwarts, and that she should really give up the dream that she's going to wake up with the ability to move shit with her mind.
Where's Neverland when you need it eh?
While we're on that poorly thought-out segue (spelt that way, pronounced seg-way. Who knew?) I start work on Monday. Yup. Actual legal-ass work. That pays, yes. And I'm trying to get excited for it beyond the fact that I have an excuse to buy that snazzy blazer from Topshop that I've been eyeing forever, but it's HARD. Mostly because one thing that I've always promised myself is that I will never plant my butt behind a desk in an office cubicle with just enough space for no one to notice when I eventually end my suffering by strangling myself with the standard office telephone wire. And yet, if this degree didn't sign my ideal future's death warrant, this internship might.
I can't even say I hope that it proves me wrong... in the fear that I might be lulled into a false sense of 'this isn't so bad'. So said the sarlaac to its prey, right? If sarlaacs could say anything anyway. I dunno. I want to enjoy it... but yknow. I don't want to sell my soul to the suits either. Its confusing.
Oh and by the way, the irony meter has just hit approximately 650 words.
I think it's time to duck out, stage left. Ciao bella.
nk.
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
Swan song for the Clown Prince of Crime
Today
1. I found out that Mark Hamill isnt going to voice the Joker any more :(
2. The Joker dies in Arkham City.
I feel like a piece of my childhood has just been brutally stripped from me. This beats the Harry Potter credits, even my whinging about the Amazing Spider-man. And me sitting here in my 'the Joke's on YOU!' t-shirt. I cant deal.
Requiescat in pace, Mister J.
PS: Yes, I understand that I am shedding tears for a homicidal maniac. No I do not need help. Go away.
1. I found out that Mark Hamill isnt going to voice the Joker any more :(
2. The Joker dies in Arkham City.
I feel like a piece of my childhood has just been brutally stripped from me. This beats the Harry Potter credits, even my whinging about the Amazing Spider-man. And me sitting here in my 'the Joke's on YOU!' t-shirt. I cant deal.
Requiescat in pace, Mister J.
PS: Yes, I understand that I am shedding tears for a homicidal maniac. No I do not need help. Go away.
Friday, 22 June 2012
Air Quality Concerns
I would so very much like to burn this stupid Constitutional law text book in triumph, but I think Malaysia's haze problem is bad enough without me helping the Indonesians kill the planet. So I wont.
Instead I'll be here. Playing Skyrim until my eyes bleed from the strain, and my body shuts down due to lack of food.
-nk
Btw, if you couldn't already tell - I passed first year of law. Yay :)
Instead I'll be here. Playing Skyrim until my eyes bleed from the strain, and my body shuts down due to lack of food.
-nk
Btw, if you couldn't already tell - I passed first year of law. Yay :)
Friday, 18 May 2012
So much for keeping this blog ISSUE-free
"-You cannot be sexist toward men. Sexism is based on a system of oppression. You CAN be discriminatory, rude, inconsiderate, and/or prejudiced against men but you CANNOT be sexist toward them.
-You cannot be racist towards white people. Racism is based on a system of oppression. You CAN be discriminatory, rude, inconsiderate, and/or prejudiced against white people but you CANNOT be racist toward them.
This is not difficult."
Before the rant begins, let me just state that i think this is the biggest piece of rubbish i have read in a while. And im studying law, so rubbish is a daily thing.
Racism is the belief that you are allowed to harbour prejudice, discrimination or antagonism towards someone of a different racial background because of some preconceived, idiotic, notion that each member of a race has characteristics or abilities specific to that race to make it inferior/superior to the rest. It isn't exclusive for people of colour. If you are prejudiced towards white people, then wake up and smell the crazy, because you're racist. The amount of melanin in your skin isn't a get out of jail free card bro.
The same goes for sexism. Its a prejudice, stereotyping or discriminatory on the basis of sex. Yes, TYPICALLY against women, but thats not part of the definition. If a woman in a place of power pays a man less, or refuses to employ men simply on the basis of gender, she's a sexist! THAT isn't difficult.
I completely understand where people are coming from with the whole oppression thing. EVERYONE has racist/sexist tendencies that subconsciously trickles into your everyday stuff, it just so happens that white people took it a little too far, lit torches and donned white pointy hats. Russell Peters sums it up perfectly I think - we people of colour have made this such a big issue, that we've got whites running scared to mention anything that could even be remotely discriminatory. An English friend's parents have asked me if I find being labelled a 'Chindian' offensive. Or being called 'yellow'. And I laughed and said of course not. Thats like me calling you guys 'English' or 'white.' All I'm doing is describing who you are. And I get this A LOT.
Also, 'banana', and 'nigger'. Are words like this okay so long as you're chinese, or black when you say it? Why is something less offensive if you're part of that race? It is either offensive, or it isnt. And if you think it is, then STOP USING IT, you asshats. It doesn't just magically become racist because someone of a different race uses it. Unless its obviously used offensively (BY ANYONE OF ANY COLOUR, MAY I JUST CLARIFY) then you punch that bigoted son of a bitch in the face.
And another thing - with the whites (and this is quite analogous to the Malays back home), everyone else is all "Oh, you guys can't complain about anything - not education, not the economy, not unemployment - because to the rest of us, you guys are privileged motherfuckers."
What?
If someone has worked hard, and cares about his/her future or country, i think they have a right to say something. No one is born on equal footing, and you look to your parents, and in some cases, outside factors like the government for this. But thats not a reason to diss on someone. I have friends who are intelligent as hell, but are shy to talk about their scholarships because they know that people will turn around and go 'Pfft. Bumiputera. Thats the only reason why."
That's the Government's fault you douchebags.
And its all well and good complaining about it, but its not going to go anywhere if you don't do anything about it, is it? I've been lucky enough to reach a point with my friends back home where we don't even think about it anymore, and fortunate enough to find friends here who are cool enough to laugh about themselves.
People just need to stop being such self-absorbed dicks and chill the fuck out. Everything starts with you.
Vote Jish 2052*
nk
*dates subject to change
*dates subject to change
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