Blank Pages...

Blank pages used to give me a sort of a rush of emotion and wild ideas to spread all over; it always is an amazing feeling to have the whole page to myself, like I own the whole thing and am free to write anything. But now all it does is scares me. Now i will look at the white spread before me and stare. Just look at it and see it staring back at me with blinking eyes, or in this case, cursor. I have a passion for writing, because i think it’s one of the few things i know how to do, but i’m not sure i have the right things to produce a good and useful stuff, and i mean stuff that is actually read by people. But i still write, although at times i am at a loss for words, and half of the time i don’t even know what i am writing about. I realize that people write most meaningfully when they are in the deepest of emotions. They let what they feel run through them, out of their fingertips and flow right onto the page. I try to gather what inspires these people to write and understand why they write what they write about, and i finally understood that you need to be honest when writing, since that’s the only way you would be able to reach out to your readers’ hearts. Now, i’m not exactly one of those people you call bloggers, because bloggers to me are actually those who write something interesting and are amazing word-stringers and have their own avid followers who practically anticipate their next entry just so their days would be complete. Just like a good cup of coffee, once you had them, you’re just hungry for more and when you don’t have it, you’ll feel incomplete. But me, i’m just a beginner at all these word stuff and am mainly writing because i see blogs as a digital diary or journal. So when i write, i am truly, abso-tively posi-lutely true and honest to myself because after all, it IS my online diary. I once received a comment by this older reader i knew from Nubhan FC website, (yep, i am a member, go on, make fun of me...) and she said she likes my blog because it’s so honest. Well, if you insist, i’m more than happy to admit so.


So, back to my boring university life. Four days ago, i arranged to meet with the dean of the arts and sciences college to settle the problem with my second semester schedule. He was supposed to be the one whom students should seek help from should they have any problems during the add/drop week. So i kinda had this huge confusion threatening to block my head because all the management thing got mixed up and i got all the wrong infos so to put it in short, i was shocked and devastated to find that i am not qualified to add or drop my subjects like the others. Now the dean is not really of the stuck-up species, and my mum told me he’s a nice guy before we even came face to face. She should know; she already talked on the phone with him. In fact, she was the one who called him on his personal mobile to see if he was in so i could meet up with him personally because the problem i faced was pretty serious, according to me. Even if i did say so myself.



When i reached his office, it was edging lunchtime, but there was a long queue outside his room, and so i joined the line and saw that we were all standing right in the middle of the doorway of his office and we could see and hear every student’s encounter with him. Upon reaching his doorway, and caught a few glimpses of the conversation of the other students before me, who were mostly Chinese, i felt downright ashamed for making such a big deal out of my problem when clearly, everyone else there had a much bigger ones to worry about. I felt myself shrinking with shame for being such a baby and fusser. Everyone else looked much older than me and obviously m problem didn’t even match theirs. But i was already there, so there was no backing out. So i just walked in when it was my turn, i put my best smile and most polite voice on, and turned into the-pleasant-student-every-lecturer-will-adore mode. He was a bit tensed, as i could see, and not a glimpse of a smile could be detected on his tight face. His expression wasn’t exactly one of the stern ones, it was more of let’s-get-this-over-with-once-and-for-all-coz-i-need-to-be-home-by-lunchtime kind of thing. So it was all very fast, really. We got down to business and settled the whole thing in less than 5 minutes. Impressive. when we were done, the dean asked me “is that it?” with what i swear to be a smirk. It’s as if, he couldn’t believe i got my mum to call him for this as it turned out to be nothing serious at all. Ouch. Boy, was i embarrassed. I should really learn not to make such a big fuss out of anything anymore in the future. It just made me feel all the sillier.Silly2 me.Well,it wasn’t really the way i imagined it, but at the very least, i get to fix my time table so that it’s now much better than the former one.


Now, switching to a different story, if there is one thing i like to do during the short bus ride to and from classes, it’s eyeing and observing people on it. Especially when i am among the first who got in, i just love peering at every single person who’ve just boarded the bus. Sometimes i had to stifle a giggle when i catch something unusual, like this one Chinese guy with a very lanky posture; he must have the most outstanding hairdo of all. I mean, it’s all sharply spiked and pokes out in every direction. And then, there’s also the various, ever-“creative” ways of dress ups. You know how when a person just doesn’t have the “figure” to carry certain pieces of attire, it will only make them look ridiculous and screams “you-are-just-trying-too-hard-to-stand-out”? Yeah, well, i get that a lot. Funny where they got their dress codes and style guru from. I mean, i’m sorry, but i just HAVE to judge people upon the first time seeing them. Well, it’s not the kind of judgment regarding their inner attitude or anything like that; it’s more of a “what-the-hell-were-ya-thinking?” kind of judgment. Yep, i might have been trying too hard at pulling off certain items myself, but none of it can ever beat the ridiculousness of the outfits of these people! They’re all nuts! One girl can be undeniably cute in a piece of shirtdress, but the other can be the laughing stock by trying to pull off the same outfit. Well, you get the idea.


Anyways, this one Chinese girl i saw on the bus ride home yesterday has got to be the only person who has ever left me so curious in the history of all bus rides. It’s not her looks, it’s not her outfit, but it’s what she was carrying that shocked me the most. It was a plastic see-through tumbler filled with white flowers with those yellow middles drowned in clear liquid! The flowers were the size of a 50 cent coin, all floating mysteriously in the water. I’m guessing it was tea, just like chrysanthemum tea or rose tea, and tea made of flowers are nothing new, but this was real flowers with petals and all! I was filled with a surge of wanting to ask her badly what kind of drink was that and how could she drink that stuff, but of course, i stopped myself.



My whole surrounding is filled with weirdos, most of the times, they eft me questioning their existence and why they do what they do. I guess we all want a place for ourselves in the world, although we are all blessed with our own positions, we still want to stand out just because. Maybe we think that the place we are blessed with is not high enough for people to see us, so we do things to raise the place we are standing at so we appear taller and people would be able to see us more clearly. Perceptions, perceptions, perceptions. I'll never know for sure, but at least, i think that's why we humans just love to outdo and outsmart each other at everything. That is also the whole reason why rivalry and competitions exist. Because we want to be heard, to be noticed. And as for the reason why i blog although there are already a load of other bloggers around? Simple. I'm not blogging to stand out; i'm blogging because i have nowhere else to pour my words to.