If only, if only

Dear reader,






I just think I should let you know, I'm using you. Yes, you're nothing but a tool. A procrastination and dilly-dallying tool. I'm sorry, but I'm just being brutally honest here. I have this thing--two things actually--that I have to get done. By tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest. And, me being me, I'll probably leave it to the last possible minute second.


If only I wasn't such an incorrigible feet-dragger. If only I was obnoxiously motivated and organized, and had a schedule book detailing my life to the most precise second. If only I was a preppy, socially-competent, valedictorian-type girl who submits every assignment on time and does all the right things and never says anything stupid.


If only I had a real camera, with a lens the size and breadth of my effing arm. That came with a wicked cool camera strap with a pink skull-and-crossbones pattern on it. If only I knew how to use said fictional camera.


If only I had more awesome dresses to wear, cause--despite being a jeans and T-shirt girl most of the time--I love wearing dresses for no reason other than "I just felt like it". If only I were chic.


If only all the pain, tragedies and atrocities in the world could just disappear, leaving only love, peace and an undeniable understanding of every human's equality behind. If only I weren't such an idealist. Or if only more people I knew were idealists...we could form a club or something. With our own buttons. With witty slogans printed on them.


If only I had a pair of Mary-Jane's. Seriously, those shoes are the epitome of awesome-ness. I could settle for a pair of ankle boots, though. Hmmm...if only I weren't so obsessed with shoes? Nah.

If only everyone was a better person than they currently are...or if only they at least actively strive to make themselves better. Myself included. Myself especially. 

If only, if only.


Speaking of 'better people'...did you know I love India.Arie? No, I am not abruptly changing the subject, dear reader. I am referring to a song of her's, called 'Better People'. It's a great song, and coincidentally really relevant to my life right now. Like, extremely so. Profoundly so. It's almost creepy, in fact. I'm not telling you why, though. What? I like to pretend I'm mysterious. Don't shatter my deluded ramblings, kind reader. Just let me go through life in a haze of ignorant bliss.








Lyrics:

I wish there was a video game
To teach you your ancestor's name
I wish there was a phone number
Like 1-800-Save-Your-Brother
I'm thankful for the radio station
Not afraid to put the truth in rotation
There is certain information
That you can only get in conversation with


[Chorus]
Young people, talk to
Old people, it would make us a
Better people, all around
(Yes it would)
And if old people, would talk to
Young people, it would make us a
Better people, all around
(Yes it would)

We went from radio to TV
Now we're going from LP to CD
Don't be afraid to try something new
I can help you with the brand new technology
You can help me with the age old philosophy
Together there's so much we can do, when...

[Chorus]

They say that every generation gets worse
They call it a generational curse
But these problems don't just drop out o' the sky
Listen to Mahatma Ghandi's words
Be the change you wanna see in the world
Start with yourself and healing will multiply
That's what happens when...

Young people, talk to
Old people, it would make us a
Better people, all around...
(Yes it would)
If Old People would talk to
Young people...
Better people, all around

If black people would talk to white people
It would make us a
Better people, all around

If Republican people would
Talk to Democratic people
It would make us diplomatic people, all around






I just love the lyrics. Music, to me, is an experience. It's about the sound, the beat, the voice, and especially the lyrics. Do not expect me to listen to a song with crappy lyrics. Just because you can rhyme 'girl' with 'world' or 'life' with 'wife', doesn't make you a songwriter. Yes, hip-hoppers and wannabe-gangsta-rappers, I'm talking to you. Having said that, it's not like I despise rap or anything. I like Eminem. Sometimes. And Jay-Z is a legend in my mind, the Rap Grandmaster. I absolutely adore Mike Shinoda, and by extension Fort Minor. Jason Mraz, technically, is a rapper. Well he used to rap more before he got old and mellow. Not that I don't like his newer songs, I just find it frustrating that people who never liked him before suddenly jumped on the 'I'm Yours' bandwagon. I liked him way before he was considered cool...or mainstream, rather. And I liked the original version of 'I'm Yours' better.

Wow, this turned out to be a longer post than I had intended it to be. I should probably go now. It's already past midnight. Better get cracking. Yup. No more procrastinating. Gotta get a move on. Sigh. Alright, alright...I'm going. See ya round the bend, dear reader.




Yours,


Figgy the Incorrigible

Birthday Girl

Dear Reader,











I'm 18 today. I feel so...young. And unprepared for life. School is a waste of time; it doesn't prepare you for anything. After about 10 years of being spoonfed pretty much everything, you're suddenly expected to fend for yourself in the 'real world'. You're left to battle the raging seas of life, with nothing but your inexperience and all the useless information you've accumulated throughout your years of 'education' to guide you.

There's definitely something wrong with the Malaysian education system.



But I digress. I'm forgetting something. I am not alone. I am not navigating the twisted labyrinth of the adult world without a road map; I have the Ultimate Road Map. I have God on my side.



No, don't roll your eyes at me, my sceptical reader. God really does have all the answers; we just never bother to ask Him for them.



So, my insecurities aside...guess what I got for my birthday present? A shopping trip! [Yay!] Unfortunately, I didn't get to buy any new books. Another day, perhaps. However, I did manage to buy not one, but two new articles of clothing. One shirt and one dress. I also bought some shoes...a pair of black ballerina flats, with a little flower-bow-thingy on the front.



Have I mentioned my love for [obsession with] shoes? Oh...well, in that case: I absolutely love [am obsessed with] shoes! There, I mentioned it. It's really wonderful how a nice pair of shoes can make one forget about one's troubles, isn't it? At least, for a while.



If I had my way, I'd take a whole year off before continuing my education, and do things I would never have had the time or the motivation to do otherwise. Like remodel my room, or take up pottery, or learn how to bake cupcakes, or something.



But what I'm really worried about is the total and complete disappointment I'll face this March, when my SPM results come out. SPM is The Big Exam that every student in Malaysia has to face before they graduate. The one that decides your future. The one that determines whether you are smart and hardworking, or if a career in the academic field just isn't the best idea for you.



I am a smart person. [And modest, don't forget modest!] But I am also an extremely lazy person. I have no stamina whatsoever when it comes to studying. I'll read one page, then fall asleep at my desk. Often, I'll just skip the reading and go straight to the sleeping part, for convenience's sake. I have recently discovered a shocking truth: if you don't bother to study, you won't get good marks. Who knew?



*sigh* All I can do is hope, I guess.



Anyway, I think I've wasted enough of your time, dear reader, with my little cyber-rant. So I'll just say goodbye, adieu, until we meet again...etc, etc.













Yours,







Figgy the Legal Adult