Welcome! You've stumbled upon the page of an almost-nineteen year old that's currently undergoing one of her "Who Am I? What Am I Doing Here?" phases. She also happens to have a huge love for words, bright pictures and music, and constantly craves sweet, iced tea drinks. Buy her a cuppa, perhaps?
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Saturday, August 25, 2007 @ 4:52 PM
The Girl Who Had Nothing To Do.

Now, It's Nothing But My Way

Excerpts from my journal/notebook while I was bored in Genting.

Location: Theatre Restaurant, Genting Hotel, Genting Highlands
Time: Dinner - around six or seven or so.

We finally reached Genting, after an hour plus or so car ride. I sat in the back and I felt really sick on the way up. I stuffed my iPod earpieces into my ears and shut my eyes, drowning out the Chinese opera music (Dad's music) with some intense Linkin Park. Ha! Bye, Yu Ya, or whoever the hell is screeching and wailing from the car's speakers. I tried to sleep - usually that's the only way to cure my carsickness, but I couldnt. Boo. So I sat it out like the brave little pig that I am :)

Now i'm feeling okay, though still feeling a little bloated at the stomach. The smell of steamed rice is so strong it's making me feel a little hungry, so it's a good thing, I guess.

From where i'm sitting, I can see the Highlands Hotel, and the little Starbucks located outside the lobby. Doubtfully, I will be spending my time there tonight - Paul's PSP has gone kaput, so the boys can't play multiplayer games together any more. We're probably going to be loitering around First World or - God forbid - the arcades tonight. Boo :(

The food's here - shall continue rambling on later, given the chance.


Location: Outside Pizza Hut, First World Hotel Theme Park, Genting Highlands
Time: 10.57 PM

I'm waiting for the boys to buy their pizza and i'm sitting here, in between Pizza Hut and Padini Authentics, right below the trackline of the indoor roller coaster, which rumbles by occasionally, people screaming for God knows what. The coaster isn't that scary.

We've just finished watching Rush Hour Three, and my hands are very sticky from eating cheap, too-sweet popcorn. The movie wasn't bad - I kept laughing non-stop at Chris Tucker's antics (he may be an asshole and a womanizer, but he's too cute :P) and Jackie Chan's overused kungfu antics. I especially loved the bloopers at the end of the movie.

"Uh, Jackie, it's freeze, not cheese."
"Ohhhh *smiles amidst laughter from crewmembers* freeeeze..."

*starts smiling dorkily as she remembers the scene*

As i'm sitting here, dozens of lala people have passed me - there goes another one. He's wearing an oversized, hideously checkered red and black jacket, a red-and-black checkered shirt (JEEZ, WHAT THE HELL IS WITH LALA PEOPLE AND CHECKERED THINGS?), baggy pants with strings on them that he thinks makes him look cool but actually it makes him look like a clown gone bad, and finally, spiked, overgelled black (HALLELUJAH, no brown hair, thank Jeebus) hair.

Lots of Arabians are here too. The women look really exotic, with long eyelashes and really pretty eyes. The men... uh, i'll save that for another time.

Hey, WAIT A MINUTE! There's a group of lala boys standing right in front of me, outside the chocolate shop, right beside the Hut, and Mr.BadClown is one of them. And, O_O a smaller boy, much shorter than Mr.BadClown, is holding pinky fingers with him! Aw, gay lala boys. *pukes into a bucket*

The group of them stare at me periodically. One of them, a particularly tall one with fugly brown hair, cheap pants, and an equally fugly black checkered shirt, keeps locking eyes and smirking at me in a i'm-too-cool-for-you way when I look up. Cool, my MNG jeans clad butt. I bet the lot of them think i'm this nerd who studies nonstop, sitting down whenever she gets the chance to finish her homework early. I'M IN COLLEGE, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE FOOLS. IF I HAVE HOMEWORK, I SHOULD BE DOING HOMEWORK. AND I'M WRITING FOR THE SAKE OF BOREDOM! I should shoot them a glare now.

Okay. I did. Mr.LalaSmirkBoy curled his lip and kept staring at me. The nerve.

I feel pretty cool, anyway, if you ask me. FEEL pretty cool, mind you, not AM pretty cool. There's a big difference in that. I'm sitting here, crosslegged and alone, on this wooden, shellacked bench, soaking in all the sights - a mishmash of lala and random people, sounds - chitter chatter and pitter patter of feet, and smells - a mix of pizza and popcorn - around me. This feels so much better than - okay, maybe i'm exaggerating. This feels the same as sitting at Starbucks, overshadowed by the ferris wheel and all its blinding lights, watching the business-types shout into their Sony Ericssons and type on their VAIOs, sipping espressos from cute little Starbucks espresso cups. I feel like i'm this punk-rock-slash-emo writer, writing her latest story or poem, inspired (Ha, i'm so inspired by Genting and its casinos *rolls eyes*) by everything around her.

The lala boys have retreated to a bench just two benches away from mine. Mr.LalaSmirkBoy still smirking at me from time to time. Motherfucker.

Holy Jeebus, here comes another lala person - a girl this time. Man, she's so red, green, and white that I can't help thinking she made her outfit from a very large Italian flag. Hello, little green overall. Hello, red blouse. Hello, white-red-and-green striped stockings. Hello, green-and-white splattered sneakers, and hel-lo, mismatched red and green bands in her hair. Benvenuto in Italia, la gente!

This aint Genting Highlands. It's Lalaland.

Oh - the boys are back with their food. Got to go.

Time: Sometime past twelve.
Location: Room 12016, Genting Hotel, Genting Highlands

I'm back in my hotel room now, on one of the twin beds. The boys are in the other room, Paul watching as Wilson plays Grand Theft Auto on his PSP. Mom is on the bed next to mine, babbling away on her phone to someone, and Dad's probably where I think he is right now.

My phone's on the little bedside table next to mine, so's my book that i'm rereading, Spellbound by Jane Green. Away on the other side of the room, the empty meatball container from Pizza Hut is sitting precariously on the edge of the desk by the TV. Wilson and his laziness.

Even though it's past midnight, I feel like going back down to the Highland Hotel's Starbucks and sit there till closing time, sipping a green tea frappucino and writing. It's quite boring lying here, really, with nothing to do and no one to talk to.

Before Rush Hour 3, I walked the fake cobblestoned streets of First World Hotel's themepark alone, the boys having gone off to the arcade for a while. There wasn't anything really appealing in Esprit, ditto Diesel, Giordano and Padini Concept Store, but I found this cute tee in FOS (a little-miss tee) and I bought it. I also spotted a Manchester United jersey for women in Nike. I rike, I rike! Now I can wear a Manchester United jersey to college without looking like a retard. I have to get my hands on it.

My eyes are getting tired now and I wanna remove my contact lenses so I can sleep.


Time: Sometime in the morning
Place: Room i'm-too-sleepy-to-remember-the-number.

It's morning now. Too early in the morning. Some bloody fucker upstairs keeps hammering nonstop on something, so loud that I can't bloody sleep. My eyes are squinty right now, as a result.


We're going back today, so hallelujah. I can't wait to go home!


And i'm home :D

Woot. Time for some chocolate, tv, and then some bed.