Foster The People

FTP is beyooonndd!! I can't believe people could write lyrics like that while still making the music as kick-ass, and, they could do all of that while still being pretty much attractive. Seriously, most good music are made by non-attractive people. Not that I have anything against it, but I'm just saaying.

The kids with the pumped up kicks

The irony of being the doctor's kid. I hate hospitals. It emits some sort of deathly vibe that it makes me sick, and want to pass out, even after almost 14 years of going into lots and lots of hospital. I practically spent at least 2 hours of the day in this disinfectant-smell, absurdly hygiene place since it's holiday and I practically had nothing to do. Not that I was willing to go anyway. I rather stay in bed watching DVDs rather than witnessing sick people being passed around on beds that look more like gigantic trays by blue-green uniformed men or women. I hate holidays.

Messieurs anniversaire

Birthday wishes to my pretty british ginger king, the extremely cute Amphiprion percula (I study too much biology, I guess), the super awesome mister tumblah-famous whom I wish to meet one day, and to all the other gentlemen (and ladies!) out there who are turning a tad bit older today! happy birthday, uh-kay?

Les Cactus

The fact that you could actually make a paper collage in your computer blows me away, really.

I might or might not post more crappy, meaningless collages like this in this in the future.

Oh, and I was procrastinating a while ago, and I've realized that it's almost 10.30 and I have barely done anything. Very productive of me.

Jump into my nightmare. The water's warm.

My cous and I went out for a bike ride last afternoon. But my bike got into some sort of stupid mishap which made us have to cut our ride short and walked for the last half kilometre to my house instead of riding the bike.

It was so tiring and hot, so we decided to do a cannonball competition in the backyard's pool just to cool off.
I wanted to take picture and my stupid self almost dropped my phone into the pool. Typical Febie.

Now that is Friday, this weekend is almost close to perfect since we barely have any homework and there's no class test whatsoever tomorrow.

Lyfe iz gr8t.

Viva La La La La

My computer is being such an unhelpful little twat these past few days, and I've been wanting to make a little post here but with the unsuitable condition being said, the result was next to nil. (Believe me, it took me countless of torturing hours to even post this one)
So anyway, big cheers to my lovely country, In-doh-ne-siah, for celebrating its 66th Anniversary of their independence yesterday.
We threw a little celebration in school on the 16th, and it was mandatory for everyone to wear red and white, and so that Tuesday morning was like a sea of spinning reds and whites in various different shades and shapes.
But it was worth it.

I don't even know which pictures' whose since there were practically only two cameras that were present and everyone was either wanting to be in the picture or wanting to be the one who took them, so these are all our "masterpieces".

And Sec3 Sincerity happened to have cooked the meanest Onde-onde among the entire student body of SIS, so we actually got an award for it. Ha.

We try to grow up too fast. And then we stop and wish for an eternal youth.

The sweetest sadness in your eyes

I am pretty sure that I am not the one who got a bit cranky today. It was today. This day. Da day. The 9th of August, 2011, that was being a bit bipolar today.
Everything is spinning ever since I woke up this morning and to make everything worse, it feels like I am bombarded with various kinds of moods  while I'm still spinning (it's like: spin... spin.. spin.. omg i'm so haappyy... spin... spin... spin... goddamit i shouldve killed myself... spin.. spin... spin... ooh im happy again lolz.. spin...) 
It's freaking insane and it drives me insane... and  a bit nauseous.

To conclude everything that happened today:
crappy CCA, The crappy Climb,  homeworks, homeworks, homeworks,  class test, class test, class test, a really-cute-human-being-from-the-male-species cycling around the complex (note to self: buy a freaking bike), sad news, happy news, shocking news and a hilarious joke.
I just hope that tomorrow won't be PMS-ing to me like today did. I have had enough of mood swing bombs for today.

PS: please give your prayer/support for my most beloved rainy city who unfortunately is having riots down there. I am very much aware that the Brits go hard, but the Brits should go hard for peace. #prayforlondon

Breathing life into your nightmare

I should probably stash my DVD player away from my sight since I am currently drowning in a confusion of choosing whether to do my Physics homework or do the marathon of That 70's show and I know both are not healthy, but the homework seems to promise me a better future rather than the DVDs.
It's been only 3 weeks since school starts but I could feel parts of me are dying from the lack of happiness and humanity. Class Tests keep on coming to me like grenades on World War II. Not to mention the homeworks.
I need a break. I need some sun. I need a life.

The bittersweet between my teeth

"I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all."- Kat Stratford (10 Things I Hate About You)

10 Things I Hate About You was not so bad despite of its weak and a bit of a nonsense plot. If I were a guy, I would never pay some dude 300 bucks to date someone just so that I could ask her sister out who I don't even like that much. It just doesn't make sense to me. 

But Patrick managed to made me teared up a bit at the end. And my favorite character among all was no other than the ridiculously bipolar English teacher, obviously, who I'm pretty sure is completely out of his head considering he has to deal with Kat in his class ("tempestuous", "heinous bitch" that was such a win. She was also the only female character in the movie whom I truly respect, only because she reads The Bell Jar and uses big words when drunk).

I've been listening to The Naked And Famous' "Passive Me Aggresive You" album over and over again. It's time to move on from my crazy obsession towards Black Kids' "Partie Traumatic". Who could deny? They are addicting.

I'm dying for a disposable camera. It's getting almost ridiculous for me to fake out my SLR pictures to make it look like it came out from a disposable.

Merde Happens

cous'

You know that feeling when you're reading a book. When you scoured through pages and pages, and you can't help but to gradually fall in love with this particular character, and at a particular point, when you feel like you've known that character forever and you had went through a lot of things together with him and you just want to hold him close to you so that he will never ever leave you,

the author decided to kill him.

That kills me. Really.

And it kills me even more when the author decided to torture you by writing even more chapters after the character's death, and you have to sit through it as you scanned through meaningless words, the absence of your favorite character is so vivid it hurts you even more, but you don't want to stop reading, because your human nature tells you to be curious, to try to find out what happen next, what happen after the death, and that's what you do. To read it until the end.

And there was never a time, when you regret that decision that you have made. To trust the author to go on with the story, because you know that he will lead you to a destination that you don't even know of, but you know that you will arrive, sooner or later, and you'll be either sad or happy, but you'll be satisfied anyway.

The week is finally over and I'm making sure that the next 48 hours of my life would not include homeworks, teachers, assignments, or trips to electronic stores in it, and instead I'll be spending my time by devouring every book that I can get my hands on while listening to meaningless French music all day long.

Kill me. My heart still belongs to Paris.

Barcelona Photo Diary

Just got these e-mailed by my aunt.
Barcelona was one of the (many) highlights of my summer and I would love to go back there one day when I'm legal and could drink a pint of Shangrila without having to worry about breaking any rules. Ha.

Shangrila (if I ever spelled that correctly) the most deadly drink yet it tastes like heaven (every deadly drink does).

A House Is Not A Home

Last saturday consisted of earling morning hairspray, a huge house that I first thought belong to some awkward stranger, a face caked up with make-up (it's disgusting, really), relatives, lots of it, and running races.
I can't believe that our new house has finally finished after all of those desperate years waiting and fixing and rearranging it, that it seems almost impossible for it to ever finish.
But there we were, doing the symbolic opening-of-the-door ceremony and there were so many people came and I knew almost all of them and it's really insane.
Mom and I still can not seem to comprehend the fact that this is actually our house. Not some stranger. And it felt surprisingly odd for me.
Maybe adjusting does take time.