What I Know...

Dear Reader,





They say to write well, you should write what you know. Now, I don't pretend to know just who they are, but I agree with them completely...almost completely. The only problem I have with this whole writing-what-you-know business is that it will narrow the compass of writing topics available to me considerably. However, the more I learn, the more I have to write about, I suppose. For now, I'll just stick to my [somewhat] diminutive scope of essay-fodder.




For instance, I know that if I should ever fail in the author-ing field, I have a good chance of becoming a dog-breeder, as I seem to have quite the talent in this particular line of business. I have a thriving population of dogs gallivanting about my backyard as we--well, mostly I--speak. Six of them, at last count. Actually, 6.5 dogs, to be precise.




Hazel is the oldest and, therefore, the most dominant of the lot. Her physical appearance actually resembles that of a sausage; that is, brown and extremely...portly. She is the matriarch of the whole clan, and just recently, the mama of a little puppy who is yet to be christened. We were thinking of naming him (the puppy) Pitem, meaning 'black', which is a totally unoriginal reflection on his swarthy visage. And, as he is the only puppy in the litter, he is quite a spoilt little thing, all rotund and roly-poly. He has yet to master the complicated art of walking, and he keeps rolling into the most unexpected and hard-to-reach places, then crying and whining to be returned to his mama.




Next, is Pluto. Furry little devil, if you ask me. Needless to say, he isn't my favourite. He has no respect for me whatsoever, unless I'm brandishing a stick or tree-branch and waving it at him, like some deranged species of windmill. He doesn't mess with Hazel, though. He knows--from experience, no doubt--that she could give him what-for if he ever tried to cross her.




Then, the sweet and lovable Odie. Unfortunately, he is a bit of a wimp, and always gets bullied by the other dogs, or more specifically, Pluto. He has these beautiful brown eyes, all soft and warm when he looks at you, especially during meal-times. The little charmer! I'm not really a dog person (I know, real shocker, right?) but I think Odie's my favourite of the bunch.



And then there were three. Triplets, actually. Husky, the boy, and the two girls, Dulce and Rusty/Apple. Husky was named Husky because the markings on his face made him look like a Siberian Husky. Husky, Husky, Husky...(^_^) If I had to describe him in one word, that word would be: bouncy. He's so active and playful, and he always jumps on his sisters and Pluto and Odie...on everyone, actually. Moving on, Dulce [it means 'sweet' or 'candy' in Spanish] used to be a little terror...ironic, I know. She was a huge bully, relentless in her attempts to undermine poor, sweet Husky. We were really worried about him for a while, actually. But she mellowed out with age, I guess. Now they're one big happy family. As for Rusty/Apple, she is lucky enough to have not one, but two names. A unique situation for a unique dog. You see, she has a reddish, rusty tinge to her fur, and we couldn't decide between the two: Rusty or Apple. So we just settled for both.




Well, there you have it. The entire cast and crew of my little dog-farm.



Did I mention I have a cat, as well?

That's a whole other post in itself. Well, I'll spare you the mind-numbingly detailed summary of my cat's character and personality...for now, anyway. Til we meet again, dear reader!

Yours,

Figgy...the Blogger (o.O)

Cabin Fever

Dear Figment of my Imagination,

Disappointment. That's what I'm feeling these days. Another day, another post. And still, no comments. Perhaps I should just quit this blog altogether. Or perhaps I should just spew out any old thing (word diarrhoea, gross...), like a few bloggers I happen to be acquainted with, instead of meticulously checking and rechecking my posts for any (God forbid!) spelling errors. I wish I could rant and rave about anything, like them, and still sound so...cool. But that's just not me. Do you know how many times I hit the 'delete' button when I'm composing a post? Well, I'll tell you: innumerable times. And don't even get me started on the 'backspace' button...If I had 10 cents for every time I hit 'backspace', I would be...really, really rich.

Anyway, I'm not really in the mood for composing a witty and intellectual entry right now. The crippling feeling of disappointment, crushing your spirit and weighing down your shoulders, kinda does that to you.

Alright, I'll admit it. Being cooped up at home sucks. With a capital 'S'. And a capital 'U-C-K-S'. I miss my friends from school. I miss going out and doing stuff. I even miss classes! If that's not a sure sign of insanity, then I don't know what is. I finally understand what sailors must have gone through when they were stranded out on the open sea, with nowhere to run and nothing to do. Cabin Fever.

I'm hungry. Perhaps my low blood sugar level is responsible for this sudden wilting of my (usually) effervescent nature.

And, on that note, I'm off! Thank you, nonexistent reader, for that lovely one-sided conversation. I hope we can do this again sometime. Til then, ta-ta!

Yours,

Figgy the Fevered [cabin-wise, of course...]

Quotable Quotes

Dear Reader,

Can you imagine what it would be like to be quoted? To have something you said be repeated by strangers, word for word, years from now, and be held in the highest esteem by the world? To have someone take up your quotable quote as a favourite saying, a motto, a philosophy, a preferred mindset, a life theme?

I don't have a quote for you, dearest Reader. I don't even have a saying or catchy one-liner. Not yet, anyway. For now, I'm content just quoting others. But perhaps, one day, I'll be the one being quoted. Hope springs eternal...

'I never let schooling interfere with my education.'

-Mark Twain









'Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.'


-Mark Twain









'It's better to swallow pride than blood.'


-Mary Stuart Masterson, "Some Kind of Wonderful"









'Close your eyes, but keep your mind wide open.'


-AnnaSophia Robb, "Bridge to Terabithia"









'Remember, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.'



-Eleanor Roosevelt









'Semantics? I'm always up for some antics.'


-Mel Gibson, "Lethal Weapon 3"









'Footprints on the sands of time will never be made sitting down.'


-Evan Esar









'Like a gold ring in a pig's snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion.'

-Proverbs 11.22 (...it's in the Bible...)

I shall now leave you to peruse these quotable quotes in peace, my contemplative friend, and bid you adieu.

Til the next post,

Figgy the Quote...r

Be afraid, be very afraid...

Dear Reader,







It's really ridiculous what some people are afraid of. I mean, I can understand phobias like arachnophobia (spiders, gross!) or altophobia (I really, really hate heights) and stuff like that, because I have them (a little). I can even understand why some people would have agoraphobia (panic attacks, scared to leave their house). Maybe they went through some kind of trauma or something and it affected them so deeply that they were too scared to leave their house, because that's the only place they felt safe anymore.



What I can't understand, though, are the weird phobias.

Like octophobia.

"That's the fear of octopi, right?" you ask, a smug look on your face. "Even I know that."


Wrong.


Octophobia is the fear of the figure eight. Yes, you read correctly, you can stop wiping nonexistent smudges off of your computer screen now. But wait, there's more.



How about hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia? The fear of long words. I can just imagine how carrying out a conversation with a hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobic (officially my new favourite word ^^) would be like. Can you imagine if they were in some kind of 'Phobics Anonymous' meeting or something?



"Hey, I'm Tom. I'm an arachnophobic. What's your phobia?" Tom says to Harry.

"Oh, hi, Tom. I'm Harry. I'm afraid I can't say what my phobia is," Harry replies.


"C'mon, don't be like that. I told you mine, so tell me yours," Tom insists, aiming a friendly punch at Harry's arm.


"No, you don't understand. I'm afraid. I can't say what my phobia is," says Harry.


Tom walks away, muttering something about anti-social freaks, party-poopers and spoilsports.



Hey, if you want to know about more weird and wacky phobias, check out this site. Just scroll down the page a bit and you're there.



Although, I'm not really one to talk about weird phobias. I mean, I have some pretty...quirky [?]...fears as well. First off, I am freaked out by chicken heads. Chicken heads, when still connected to the chicken, are bad enough. But what really gets me are dismembered chicken heads. Their little beady, glassy eyes staring blankly at you. The little beaks, all sharp and...dead. Gross me green, man! Oh, yeah. I also have an extreme disinclination (fear is too strong a word) for chicken feet. Dismembered chicken feet. The scale-like skin. The little pointy claws, curled up and not moving...



Ok, topic-change time. I also dislike lizards. Exceedingly. Any type of lizard. Of every species, shape, form, origin and character. Now, cockroaches, I can handle. I usually just stay out of their way and they stay out of mine. But not lizards. The little buggers just freak me out.

Do you know how much I did NOT enjoy searching for lizard pictures? There were a few pics of lizards eating other lizards, but...I'm sensitive to graphic material.

I actually have an interesting story about a lizard. My house is full of geckos. You know, those average house-lizards. Anyway, it was really early in the morning. About 5:30 or something.



"Wait, 5:30?!" you gasp in shock. "What were you doing up at such an unearthly hour?" you ask.


Well, Nosy Parker, I was getting ready for school. And in answer to your other unspoken question, school starts at around 7 a.m. in Malaysia, depending on the school. My house is, like, 20 minutes away, so I have to leave by 6:30 to make it in time. One of the best things about me not going to school anymore is I can sleep in everyday. Ok, scratch that. It's the best thing about not going to school anymore.



So, getting back to my story. It was about 5:30, right? I was getting my uniform in the laundry room when I heard this really loud lizard-sound. You know that clucking sound they make? It was loud. And it was tut-tut-tutting really slowly, too. Like "TUT...TUT...TUT...TUT". I mean, I couldn't see it anywhere, but it sounded like the World's Biggest Lizard was in my laundry room.



I have never gotten dressed so quickly in my life.







Wow, this is a long post. By my standards at least. I guess I'll be signing off now.


So...TTFN, ta-ta for now.







Yours,





Figgy the [Not So] Fearful

♫ Music ♪

Dear Reader,

I like being eclectic. I don't have any favourite artists, just favourite songs. And yes, the word 'favourite' is spelt with an 'ou', not an 'o' where I come from. I like songs for their words first, then the music. You know, songs used to be how people told stories. Like poetry set to music. Not anymore, though. When I hear some of the lyrics nowadays...(shakes head silently). They just don't write 'em like they used to.

Any-hoo, today I'm going to talk about a song that I like. It's called 'Stay', by Estrella. Needless to say, since it was sung by a fellow Malaysian, I feel very proud and patriotic about it. Anyway, here are the lyrics. Enjoy!

Song: Stay

Artist: Estrella

Genre: Mellow (-_-)

Sounds straight from the twilight

Has me up all night I can't

Fall asleep coz I keep thinking of you

And I saw a shadow, outside my window

And it's you!

Chorus:

All my sorrows flew away,

Hush keep quiet hear me say

I don't ever want you to go

Please stay

With the moonlight dancing free

And there's no one but you and me

There's no reason to go astray

Please stay

Bridge:

Making up a story

It's the way you're looking at me

If you think that this is funny

It's just you

Try and think about it

If your heart is closed don't lock it

Keep your keys back in your pocket, think this through

Chorus (again ^^):
All my sorrows flew away,
Hush keep quiet hear me say
I don't ever want you to go
Please stay
With the moonlight dancing free
And there's no one but you and me
There's no reason to go astray

I hope you enjoyed this musical post, my dear reader. Til next time, I shall remain...

Yours,

Figgy the Muse...ical

Confessions of a Serial Procrastinator

Dear reader,





I have this problem. I am a serial procrastinator. Whenever I face something even remotely resembling a deadline, I dilly-dally. A lot. Excessively. Even when it's for something I enjoy. Like, with this blog. I like to write stuff. And yet, I lollygag and put it off til tomorrow, and it's an extreme accomplishment for me to get anything done. I have never handed in an art assignment for the entire duration of my school career. Never. And I love to draw. I'd usually abandon it when it was halfway done. And handing in my assignments on time? Forget about it (say in Italian-mafia-like accent). I'd be all enthusiastic and determined and vow to not only finish the darn thing but to actually hand it up before the deadline. Of course, that never happened. And even if it did, it was obviously so far from my normal behaviour that I probably got traumatised by the whole incident and blocked it out of my memory.


Have you ever watched that teen sit-com thingy called 'The Amanda Show'? There was this one character, played by the ever-so-funny Miss Amanda Bynes, called the Procrastinator. She was supposed to be a superhero, but everytime someone asks for her help, she'd say that she'll save them "E-ventually!" Yup, that's me. The Procrastinator.


Anyway...that's kind of why I started this blog in the first place. I suck at keeping journals. I'd make the first entry, and then completely forget about it--then I'd find the journal, after about half a year, blow the 3-inch layer of dust off of the cover, and make the second entry. What I'm trying to say is I would like to turn over a new leaf. Be more consistent. And I thought blogging would help. I just couldn't take the thought of disappointing the millions...ok, thousands...or maybe hundreds...alright, fine, the handful of faithful followers of my illustrious blog. The crushing guilt of depriving them of the infinite pleasure they derive from reading my inspirational and easy-to-relate-to musings would definitely get to me after a while. I don't really fare well under pressure. In fact, some would even go so far as to say I fare poorly under pressure.

So, there you have it. My full confession, immortalised for all time in cyberspace for every computer-literate stranger to read as they please. Yeah.

So, I guess I'll sign off now. I've pretty much said all I wanted to say. Stay tuned for my next post...whenever that may be. In the near future, I hope. Wish me luck.



Yours,

The Blogger Formerly Known as The Procrastinator

Figgy