Monday, February 23, 2009


I had to tell you just this single thing. Would you care to acknowledge? Well because if you do, you should read further. I had bewildered my mind in search for sinister words and criticism in a lighter way. But the words failed to merge. I had tried to find words to make it seems less sarcastic, but it turned out gimpy instead. Up to this part, I think I should confess. What I'm about to tell, is not sinistral, nor is is sarcastic. Maybe just pure distorted feelings? I guess what I am trying to say is (Clearing my trachea and inhaling as much air as I could then releasing it again) My car broke down. (Smile until all my teeth can be seen) Be mad. For I have used that much of line for describing. Lets dig deeper. Latest news from my dad, the water pump broke. (Sounds like a pregnant woman on the edge of giving birth saying "my water just broke") That's his facial expression when he said it. So here i thereby pronounce, (Knock twice using the judge's hammer, maybe using the judge's wig as well) I pronounce the accused (which is me, claimed sinned for not filling in the radiator's water by dinasour *because I never cared about the car or it's engine, I just cared about driving* :D) Pronounced the accused not guilty. Woo-hoo (crowd cheers) If I were to give a speech it'll sound like this: Forgive me for not caring dear car, I'd be more thorough about you next time. I know, in the end you would say, Fina is such an exaggeratting brat. But who would care? It's my blog :D

Saturday, February 21, 2009


Put yourself on the highway. You'd notice. the arrow would always point up front. Or sometimes, they'd give you signals to the left or right. Choices you would decide. Path that you would take. When you're driving, when vehicles are moving fast, there's no way for you to push the break pedal. You can't stop in the centre of the road can you? You could, but you'd get honked. If you get noticed. Or you could be attempting suicide, and if you're planning on an emergency brake, you might tag along the people behind you. All you could do is between accelerate or slowing down, or maybe you could stop on the emergency lanes, but still how big is it? How long would you stop? Let alone, there's no emergency lanes in life is there? Time doesn't stop, the more you try to make it seem slower, the more you're losing. I learned through a movie today, everything that had slowed you down, If it hadn't been that way might change some things in a good cause.
Yeah, I went and watched Benjamin Button, the guy who aged backwards. That might sound sweet. But he died an infant and not remembering any facts at all on the adventures of his life. Those he loved and lose and left behind, his first time on the piano, the places he went, even the baby steps he took- he forgot it all. If in anyway, a man could choose to age backwards or not, I wont join the league. There's no fun to it. There's a reason to why we age older and why time moves forward. Memories are to be reminisced and maybe kept in an album or myspaces but never to be repeated. It's part of constructing the sweet part of it. If you keep living it over again, you'd tire and the suppose-to-be-memories will fade slowly. Just like how slowly you began to forget your childhood plush toy. Things, no matter how hard you try to make it come alive again, will never resemble what you had had and done and went through. You could go for a holiday and do it again. But everytime you repeat it, some things would change. I know, as a fact that it's okay to change. Its okay to grow. It's okay to not be able to do some things again. Because that is when you start appreciating everything you do and did.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009


She loves being surrounded by zaniness. Where people clown around and the concrete hall was never at ease. All her acquaintance would see her as the girl with no hormonal effects. She doesn't smirk, does not pull a face, does not throw tantrums and doesn't act snobbish around anyone. The only thing she would do is maybe returning back smiles in her own favor. There is no way of telling if she's under her pre-menstrual cycle or not, simply because she was never moody. Not among her friends. The traits she left them with was the feeling synonymous to the word happy. Not necessarily calm, but she was never flipped. Never had a change to a sudden melancholic look. That though, does not make her any different. All her pain and angst and agony even were shuttered in her self-made music box, hid underneath towers of laughter and comical acts. And sometimes when she's in her room alone, She would remove the lock of the box and made it vacant. Hiding under her blankets, she would let loose of this hidden dark feelings, sometimes she accompanied them with tears and sometimes just a stray silence. Then when it's all gone, she would let down her eyelids and put the now vacant box aside. Waiting it to be filled with yet another set of dysphoria. Sometimes when the box went over-flowed, she would exhibit her feeling to a pal. Not in hope of making a settlement or covenant or anything like it, just to be consoled and to have a shoulder to lean and ponder. Then when her morose are sedated, she would just want someone to clean up the tears and mend the bits of her that's left. But even if she fails to do so, she would always just go back to her friends with her normal behavior-the giddy girl people recognize her to be.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009


my dearest ladies tagged me. So I'm bound to answer these tags questions. Just because I'm caught up in an absolute plain situation. Only I'm not answering in bullets or numerical form. So here goes the tags:-

I am at the moment cold thanks to the air-conditioner. So ask me again, am I hot? My impulses says Im not in any condition of feeling hot at all :) Now here's my favourite piece of self photo and I would be utterly glad to calm your curiosity of the question-tag why. If you look clearly you will notice me without the aid of mascara, eyeliners, eccetera. That is the look that only those really close will get to see. Some addition and facts, I've been told I look innocent with no make-up help. In most photos, I would make faces, I love to smirk and i don't mind the lines thank you. Try and refine those lines with machines and you will look like a drag queen. That goes to all the yougsters. You're young, you don't need any sorts of refinements (accept for pimples :P). Stop hating yourself and just laugh whenever you feel like it. I am in this photo too, promoting twisties. I love my food but sadly I haven't had pizzas in quite a long, long time. But that's okay because my current crave is for peanut butter and jelly and spicy mint. Which reminds, I just had toast with peanut butter and jelly. It was heaven when I was indulging it while my ears were banging to Twisted Sister's We're Not Gonna Take It. There fore I had my stomach filled and now I am stuffing all my stuffs back in my bag. I had it washed yesterday. Yeah, I am also thinking if i would prefer any names beside mine. Well, why not? I already have a few nicknames. But just a reminder, don't spell my name wrong. I get pissed off. My name is by far short enough and it would not take your whole memory cells to remember.

So did I answered all the tagged question Sara and Aina? I won't tag because I don't have the questions pasted here. But that was sweet of you guys to notice about my relationship with dinasour. :) I find it cute.

Sunday, February 1, 2009


A letter from a humble knight. States her lost of war, and lost of raid. In an almost-fade ink, there lies the truth of her downfall. For this knight believed in a convincing comrade. For this knight went without army nor shield, neither was there any shining armor nor sword. For the faith given was wrapped with dignity and pure belief. Only to be scratched and teared by those filthy hyenas. For the knight was a she and for that she wasn't secure. And so her fortress built crashed down and bowed and obeyed to the greed and comfort of her comrade. Her supporting arms abandoned the war. Alone. Selfishly. And as the comrade change its name to foe, so she built a tomb to sacred her kindness. Like the fading dusts of the after war, her soul and beliefs perished to the underworld. The enemy at hand was let loose and set free. And the horizon of what should be cheers and rejoice now turns to a solemn, mourning sky. And with all the agony, she gathered her bits of strength. To return home and pledged never to combat in this risky cold war.

Home was her final destination and home was far. Out of all her misfortunes, she found her wounds were healed and cured and she was somewhere safe. For someone had bought her an antidote and someone was so divine. For someone had took pity on her and had cover her tears with a warm and cosy laughter. For her bruised dignity was cured and she was taken far from the sight of her collapsed fortress. Only for a second would she wish to know a reason for such evil. But only to be reminded of how a fool she had been, and how lucky she had become.