i'm sorry baby,
life has to go on.
and so i'm moving out into my new domain
be-twixt.tumblr.com

you've served me well blogger

oh no,
i usually don't conform to trends,
but hell, tumblr is winning me over
like how facebook trumped friendster eons ago
it's too addictive

hey blog, you me, we go way back
8 long years
so fret not ;)
you just need to share the love now

abang sedara posted this on my wall
been hooked on this version ever since





Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It's always been inside of you, you, you

omg people actually bother to do this !
lol

okay enough rest.
back to working like a machine.

omg i remember this, it's been six years






gawd, how kental ALL of us were
i still am

and we're now grown up and all...

if there is one thing i wish i didn't have,
it's my videographic memory
i remember too much,
my life replays like a movie in my head,
down to the details like the colour of your shoes,
the sequence of events that occured, the weather,
the face of the shopkeeper, the colour of the cake,
the conversations we had, the food we ate,
what bag you brought, the look you sported,
the crowd that surrounded us,
bla bla bla

and i hate it
because i realise, more so than anyone else who knows of the filmroll in my head,
how different things are, and how good some of those memories were,
and then i get all emotional because i start to reminisce on the life i had and the people i knew,
and it is overwhelming sometimes, to be able to recall the more painful memories
down to the tone of someone's cry or someone's voice

i can still remember very clearly, and sense their distraught now,
the two persons in my life who made those calls to me on those two particular days
and i can still recall and feel now, how saddened i was
i can recall very vividly how one of my gfs cried on the phone,
how worried my granddad was, i can still sense now the panic in his voice back then,
i can feel now how scared i was when i called the ambulance
and i can still remember how we squatted beside my grandma's bed
i can still remember how my sister ran to the ward from the lift with her luggage bagpack from the airport,
in her white zara tanktop coupled with her white translucent kabaya-nyonya-like cardigan
and stripe patterned dark pink pants and white havaianas slippers,
i can feel now the atmosphere in the room that night
shit, i remember everything man, seriously





why can't i just have photographic memory and ace my exams instead of wasting brain cells remembering the past, which is pointless.

i miss the good old days
when spending time to do any form of lepak-ing was so guilt-free, 
everything feels so forced nowadays, everything

things change,
people change,
yeah oh well,
you might as well live in a world of mannequins if you want everything to remain the same,
life is a bitch that waits for no one,
so move on !

oooooopphhh,
look at her shoes, to die for !

I've benefited alot from critical comments given for my work.
Amidst all that frustration, pointless hurling of swear words at all things inanimate, and unnecessary venting of anger on the people around me, without realizing it, I've actually gone quite the distance, judging by the difference i saw in my final work and the one I did earlier this semester.

Today, I finally felt that sense of satisfaction, seeing the result of my hardwork.

"Nurul, you okay? everything's fine now? your final product came out real good yeah, good good, if there's anything else you need help with, just do let me know"

your final product came out real good

That was all I needed, that heads up
and I'm all geared up and motivated for the rest of my modules now.

But hey, the worst is yet to come :/
Unfortunately, despite how hard I work, I just know that my GPA will be my lowest this semester.
Sigh.


ps;

I may be harsh, or brutally honest, but it's because I care
I guess I'm like that because it's what I'm used to, having to learn from criticisms.
In any case, the people who care, don't usually tell you what you want to hear, they tell you what you need to hear, no matter how awful it may sound. And I'm used to that, both at home and in school.
It's not easy to be in a critic session after having slogged out day and night for one piece of work and getting slammed right down in front of your peers, but that's life, that's the only way for you to know where you went wrong.
I may be blunt, but I try my best to speak my mind in the least hurtful manner.
I recall having watched Jamie Oliver on Oliver Twist, being criticized by some of the customers when he went to Italy to assist a head chef in an authentic Italian restaurant there. At the end of the night, the head chef called for reviews on Oliver's cooking, and I remember very clearly, albeit inaccurate, what he did/said.
While holding up his two hands, each filled with positive and negative ratings respectively, he said to Oliver with his distinct Italian accent, "We take the good comments ey, read them, smile to reward ourselves for the day, and we throw them out (tossing into the bin, the stack of papers on his right hand). These (holding up the stack of paper in his left hand), these bad comments, we keep, only these will help us better ourselves, these very important ey."

And sorry if you mind.
I appreciate being told not to comment, I really do :}
After all, I only have your best interest at heart.

Two weeks, two weeks to cover way too much
I need a miracle this time round.



















On a lighter note, am really psyched for my short adventurous getaway before semester 2 starts.

Ready Jetset Go !
(okay i'm lame like that)

Can't wait to pack already.

And my korean kid got an A
I couldn't be more proud of her,
I've done my job :)

why is it that every piece of art has to have a meaning,
has to stand for something, has to be analyzed down to the details,
has to be read in a certain way, has to be done for a reason
why can't it simply be done for pleasure, to please both the artist and the viewer
why must the world find reasons to everything,
find answers to why the line was drawn straight,
why the curve is the way it is
why can't people accept the paint on the canvas as a mark made at a moment in time based on what felt right there and then,
that there could have been no logical reason or symbolic meaning behind why red was used,
or why the line extends to the edge of the canvas to expand the spatial boundaries of the painting beyond the canvas,
or why the artist drew an overturned triangle to throw the viewer off balance
why can't people just observe and appreciate the beauty of a mark made in history for the way it is without judging,
why must there be a reason to everything
why do we inquire so much and probe so many questions when we can never know for sure if our answers are right
why must artists produce works because they wish to put across a statement
why can't we do things for no reason except incidentally making a mark in time


shit, the irony of these questions.

And the toughest challenge i'm coping with right now is not the work load that i have, but the daunting thought of not being able to reap satisfaction out of all these at the end of the day. I am really, really not contented with what i'm doing right now. And in the midst of pursuing most of the work that i've already started to embark on, i'm feeling uninspired to continue just because they don't wow me enough. Pathetic much? I'm beginning to question my own capabilities, feeling like i'm all out of potential for this business. The biggest burden on my mind right now is not knowing if this is the direction i should be going and how aimless i am at this point in time judging by how unrealistic my goals are. To have an unrealistic goal is similar to not having one at all, and by unrealistic, i really mean harboring thoughts of going to elite Art schools in Europe or the US that offer masters in the field that i've always been interested in despite how it intimidates me.
It is only the preview, and i'm already beginning to dread the path i'm taking. I have my heart settled on something i should have done years ago, but there is no point in regret. So right now, at this very moment, i am actually contemplating doing it before regret sufaces many years down the road. And by then, i just know it'll be too late.

Honestly, I thrive on compliments. Unfortunately, it's been some time since I was last praised for my work. Even i am not impressed. Yeah it's come to that tragic point. Perhaps that's all i need and long for right now, some kudos or a pat on my back.

There are two routes in life to take, both with different sets of challenges. The first assumes life and work as separate events, offering a quotidian life that requires overcoming physical exhaustion from work and lack of mental stimulation from facing the same mundane routine everyday, for example a "9 to 5" job that ends once you step out of office boundaries, after which one is free to handle other problems that life has to offer. The other route presents work as life itself, offering new challenges to solve everyday (and night), both during and beyond office hours. In this, I foresee the need to overcome mental and correlated physical exhaustion. One has to handle not only mental exhaustion from having to continuously research and present to clients impressive proposals, but also overcome the challenge of being physically drained due to the lack of sleep from having to constantly think of fresh ideas that will exceed expectations. Exactly what i'm facing right now. I don't know if i can handle the latter for the rest of my life. Seriously, it is very draining. But to concede defeat now would mean that i really am, for the lack of a better word, a loser. Haha. I'm not willing to settle for mediocrity and really, it's a 'do it to the very best or don't do it at all' for me. So for once in my life, I am really going to say it, FML for being a perfectionist.