Success is counted Sweetest..

UCCESS is counted sweetest

By those who ne'er succeed.

To comprehend a nectar

Requires sorest need.




Not one of all the purple host

Who took the flag to-day

Can tell the definition,

So clear, of victory,




As he, defeated, dying,

On whose forbidden ear

The distant strains of triumph

Break, agonized and clear.

A poem from my all time favorite poet, Emily Dickinson.

AAARGGHH!!! I'm running MAD!!!

I'm not even in the right age to drive and marry but the madness police is gradually knocking on my doorstep to arrest me for committing madness. I'm mad. Please forgive for telling you late, my dear blogger. Forgive me that you've been reading entries of a mad teenage girl's page all these time. Yeah..mad as it is. I'm not quite ashamed that I am one. Coz I know you'll be one as well as soon as you finish reading this entry and actually comprehended my real madness.

These thought of me knowing I'm mad is killing me. Why? Oh for God's sake! It's like knowing you have leukemia and your days are already counted, and you don't have any way with it! It's incurable. It's frustrating. It's got to be accepted.

You might be wondering why this girl is still writing on her blog yet she's mad. Huh. Don't wonder, coz I'm mad. My madness is giving me the adrenaline to activate my brain in a weird but useful way, unlike the usual madness. It's killing me, yes. But it's also my source of strength and will to finish my freaking course! Yes, you got it right. I'm savouring my sanity to figure out how to pass my core courses. And it's not that I hate my core courses that I just wanna pass them, but because there's nothing I can do with it. If I push my self more, I'll break the limit and I won't be able to write into my precious cyber spotlight anymore. You'll just found out that my nurse will telling you, my dear blogger, that I'm under observation.

Whoa. I totally blew it out! The oppressed thoughts of mine have been in caved for so long that I can't even reckon it's been a month. But never mind. That's why my loving blogger is still reading my entries, right? To reach out to me--well, I hope you won't say I have to stop blogging coz my entries have nothing to do to help Hilary Clinton win anyway--and feel my madness--but not too much! I'm infectious.

I love blogging and I won't stop blogging even though I'll be mad.

And because I know you love me...

Guys are not inspirations.

July has been a long month for me, unlike June. And now we're about September. I was busy welcoming a whole lot of changes in my new sem last June -- and yes,I consider it as one of my merriest month of the year--and whole lot of intentional lateness every Arabic class and frustrations in Maths were all worth of my ever tiring half sem. But I really had fun, actually. Saying goodbye to our lazy days during the short sem wasn't that easy but saying "hi" to the numbers is quite a challenge! Oh God, time flies so fast when your having fun! I didn't even notice that it's been three months since a blur vision of love ( if you can call it love) came up to me in an annoying packaging of a skinny guy who don't even consider English as a significant language but just something you should pass at school. And from the start I know, things won't work between us. As quick as it came, I failed to realize it's gone.

But I'm off to think about guys these days as a strike for all my mishaps that I never cared to learn from. I still have 'eye-candies' (*laughs*) and I'm not an "anti-guys", though. I'm just being practical! "Muslim Women must be strong!", as our animated Fardo Ain lecturer would love to say it. Things have fallen into place somehow. If he's not for you, so be it. There are lots more! And I was really happy he's gone because, honestly, brats are really a pain in the neck! But my experience left me a notebook scribblings since all girls must know that:

1. First in for most: Not to date a spoiled brat.

He's rich, yeah. He can give whatever you want. You can reach those places only in your dreams you thought to be going. But take note that he always wants something in return, if you know what I mean!

2. Don't go for jocks.

If hotness was all your looking for in a guy, well, I can't blame you if you fall for jocks. But if all it pays is sweat and body odor, oh puh-please (insert hand gestures here)!

3. Don't date first year guys at all.

They're still in the progress of maturity and think so junior high-ish which practically remind me of Jonas Brothers. What a babe! *laughs*

4. Always put your standards high.

Come on, you won't dream of cutting the potatoes instead of going to the grand ball like Cinderella does, right? We're not in the fairy tales and we can't always have a fairy godmother to sort out our miseries. We have to make our choices straight and practical.

And that's basically how my miserable love life thought me how to, not to forget, but be practical when it comes to perverted male species.

Inferiority Complex

Inferiority complex.

I've always known I have one since I started going to primary school. Before, I don't know what it's called since I've never been aware that it's something killing me inside. I continued going to school with the feeling of being so small among all the students of my age. I have friends, yes. There's no question about that. After all, I'm practically friendly. But the thought that I'm the smallest and the youngest in my class (actually all of my classes when I was in primary school) and not that smart, made me feel I'm different. Different in a way that I'm out of place.

But my loving Mom will always tell me that I'm special and that people have different characteristics. She never, ever dared to say the word "different" to connote that I'm an introvert, but I know deep inside that I'm different, if not to end up an introvert--what else would I be? " she's just telling me this because I'm her daughter", I thought.

I never figured out how to defeat my inferiority complex as the years pass by (because I actually don't know how). Now that I'm 17, pretty more matured than I was in primary school. I know now that inferiority complex is another way of saying you have a low self-esteem. I keep on telling myself that it will just give me the feeling of negativity, alienation and irritation. And so I stopped thinking about it.

But it keeps on coming back. After my Maths class, I consulted my lecturer about my failed first, Maths quiz (yeahh, I know, shame!). She taught me the right answers and how to come up with those solutions, I just nodded to all the solutions. Then suddenly, she looked at me in the eyes with large, black eyes surveying my whole face..and asked:

"Do you feel inferior?", she's still staring.

"I..I guess so...", I said as if it was my first time to figure out that i do have it.

And so my straight-faced but a concerned lecturer told me her story of inferiority. She told me that she was a failure, not just in English but also in Maths. She used to feel inferior that girls of her age solves the mathematical problems in no time, leaving her still solving in the middle step. "Who wouldn't be envy? They're so clever!", she quoted. Yeahh..I get her. If those girls finished faster than her, her lecture will call out for a "faster" call to those still solving--that cracks me out, bacause I have to solve it even faster. Then she told me that she failed her English Qualification Exam for students going abroad, and that she strive so hard to pass it on her second try.

Well, her voice of experience are just so realistic and inspiring, but what stroked me the most is the her first question that brought up the whole topic. Yes, I do feel inferior. But I'm somehow blessed that I have good people behind me. I mean, not all children who discovered they're different or they don't excel in a field most children do (like playing sports or solving maths problems), have trustworthy and loving friends and family with them to tell them they are not that bad after all.

"The roots of all my inferiority is a small piece of crap", I digested this one to boost my confidence. So Why am I keep on thinking about it in the first place?

I've learned my lessons in the hard way. In a way that only time can mend. I've learned that people are good in different fields of skills and that I just happen to be not so good in Maths. All I have to do is to pat myself to conscious efforts on the back for the things I do well. I don't need to always come in first to be the best.

And I guess it's a good start of motivation to any of you who has the same kind of inferiority that I do. Oh! There you go! My first dramatic entry. haha..that's it for now. Ciao!

cleaning night!

Well, It's good to be back on my Cyber spotlight where I have the liberty to speak out whatever it is that's bugging my "tinee-tiny" head! haha..yeahh..well, things are quite busy these days because of my a somehow demanding core course where I have to practice most of the time in computing the damn hard problems! But still, life is sweet as it is despite of the bitterness of pressure trying to conquer me. I mean, even though I'm sucking all the Maths and Accounting problems every week to improve my brain's logical capacity, I always have a spare moment to unwine and hang out with my roomies.

7Th of July was my Jene's (it's a Kyrgyz word I love to call her) 19Th birthday. We decided to have a small dinner like how we usually celebrate birthdays. And yeahh..I know another year older, which we actually bother to count every single moment in our lives even though we practically know we'll be older as it's nature.

And just as we came back from having our dinner, merrily laughing as we climb up in the stairs, when suddenly, our room Mushrifa reminded us for the room clean-up operation for tomorrow. Gosh! Why does she has to ruin the time of our lives? Well, anyway..she ought to remind us..coz some people really need to be reminded--like somebody I know.

So, we cleaned to room in the night we agreed to do so. We divided ourselves into 3 teams: 1 team in the toilet, 1 in the bed room and 1 in the study room. I was ready to clean the toilet when a beaming Jo came up to me, almost wanted to say: "I'll do it!", and so i chose the study room instead. We removed all our belongings under our beds and in the study room to make way for the brooms to sweep away the stock of dusts that's scattered around our full house. And yeahh, there are like 20 of us in the room now, let me tell you.

We were all taking our time wiping and brushing whatever that it is that we have to wipe and brush, when a girl as skinny as ever whom we always call SG (and darling, the meaning will always be a secret i'll never tell), asked if she can leave already coz she has a meeting. And the thought of looking for D was brought up since she's the 2nd skinniest girl in the room. Where she is? God knows. Can you imagine 19 of your roomies are cleaning, 1 left for another important business, and you're no where to be found doing you thing--knowing that you have to with them cleaning? Oh boy--shame!

So mush for D's laziness. We sweep and mop, sweep and mop the floor in the bed room--and lastly, we brushed it. Yes, you read it right, we brushed it. Actually it was an 11th hour discussion that they want to walk bare foot inside the bed room, so, they themseleves volunteered to brush it thoroughtly. Then that means--SHOES OFF! I salute them. They're really hard working. Shame on me coz I never knew!

In roughly 2 hours, we're proud enough to say that our room in newly polished. Oh God, it feels good to feel clean. Everyone automatically arranged back their things to where they belong. The mats, the bed sheets, the shoes--specially the shoes. Then for a moment I felt really tired! haha..

But it was all worth it. All the sweat and dusts are all worth it! Our room is cleaner than ever now! Compared to the first we cleaned it.

I'm satisfied.