honest to blog

*such ‘deep’ things we talk about…*

iR . says:

loe belom mandi de?

iR . says:

hahahahaha

.dea. says:

blame it on reading entries abt einstein, spinoza, dalai lama etc on wikipedia

knez - says:

what the heck is spinoza?

.dea. says:

a person…?

.dea. says:

philosopher

knez - says:

btw, in a rove interview, daniel radcliffe said that he’d turn gay for albert einstein because intelligence is sexy

.dea. says:

gw bc entry ttg einstein trus link k spinoza

knez - says:

ow…sorry dhe gw gak tau spinoza

.dea. says:

huaahhahahahahhahahaha

knez - says:

btw plato’s gay

knez - says:

but if u’ve already known never mind

.dea. says:

yeah einstein said he believes in spinoza’s god, which is basically nature and the intangible power behind the universe

.dea. says:

HE IS?????????

.dea. says:

wait is he greek or roman?

.dea. says:

greek right?

.dea. says:

hmmmm

knez - says:

what’s nationality got to do with it?

iR . says:

plato was gay alright

iR . says:

in fact i heard a lot of them philosophers were gay

.dea. says:

i dont know much abt sexual behaviour in greek societies

.dea. says:

but i know that in

rome

…

.dea. says:

theres no such thing as heterosexuality or hommosexuality

iR . says:

i think he was the one who said that the most beautiful form of relationship exists between males

.dea. says:

thats not they way they classify sexuality

iR . says:

yeap

iR . says:

the romans liked young boys…

.dea. says:

they classify it as ‘passive’ and ‘active’

.dea. says:

as long as a man is in an ‘active’ role its ok

.dea. says:

maybe they’re not gay in the sense that we know it to be?

.dea. says:

like, maybe its a culture thing?

knez - says:

yeah…they’re just "happy"???

iR . says:

probably

iR . says:

i mean, right or wrong is a thing that varies between cultures

iR . says:

haahahaha

.dea. says:

hahahaha what is ‘happy’?

knez - says:

dont mind irene…she’s doing an assignment on different cultures and stuff

.dea. says:

hahahaa

knez - says:

gay

.dea. says:

i’m not

knez - says:

gay means happy

.dea. says:

i’ve just been reading a lot abt it

.dea. says:

and i did an essay abt roman sexuality before

.dea. says:

and since greeks and romans are quite alike in culture….siapa tau sama jg…..

.dea. says:

have i been reading too much?

knez - says:

nah

iR . says:

hey

knez - says:

it’s important to know

iR . says:

so what if i’m doing an asg on culture and stuff

knez - says:

nothing

knez - says:

i’m not saying anything rene

iR . says:

we’re supposed to take what we learn in the classroom to the outside world anyway

.dea. says:

ooohhhh

.dea. says:

is it abt cultural relativism?

.dea. says:

cos i read smth interesting abt it as well

.dea. says:

hahahahah

.dea. says:

btw knp lo bs ad pelajaran ttg culture?

knez - says:

management subject, she’s also been doing studies on the subject of greek hotties

knez - says:

see if she’s figured out anything useful

knez - says:

hahahhaha

.dea. says:

greek hotties…..?

iR . says:

it’s international management

iR . says:

makanya ada culture2nya

.dea. says:

oooooo

iR . says:

errrmm, i’m not so obsessive as to call it a ’study’ sih nes

.dea. says:

and greek hotties…?

iR . says:

maybe that’s how u do stuff, but not me nes

iR . says:

sorry

.dea. says:

enlighten me

iR . says:

hahahah

iR . says:

there’s this hot greek guy in my class

.dea. says:

hahahhaha how do u know he’s greek?

knez - says:

exactly

knez - says:

how does she know he’s greek????

knez - says:

obviously there’s a study involved right there

knez - says:

hahahahha

.dea. says:

errr maybe he said so….?

.dea. says:

tsk tsk tsk

.dea. says:

agnes…making unfounded assumptions….

iR . says:

because his surname has ‘polous’ in it

iR . says:

and he mentioned that he’s greek

knez - says:

like he intro himself to irene and say smtg like "hi, i’m

paris

, i’m greek…."

knez - wanna be sedated says:

gitu?

.dea. says:

hahahahahhaha

iR . says:

i’m sorry nes, but things are not as complicated as u think they are

.dea. says:

see another unfounded assumption

iR . says:

stop overanalysing

iR . says:

hahahaha

.dea. says:

not all greeks are named

paris

iR . says:

hahahahahhaha

iR . says:

paris

??

iR . says:

why would they be named

paris

?

iR . says:

the city’s in

france

iR . says:

hahahahaa

.dea. says:

as in

paris

who used to be

paris

‘ fiance?

.dea. says:

ring a bell?

.dea. says:

hahahahhaha

knez - says:

yes yes

knez - says:

i’m just giving an example right???

knez - says:

sheesh…and paris was the first greek name i remember

iR . says:

ohhhh

iR . says:

hahahahahaa

.dea. says:

interviewer:

paris

, if u have a child together, what are u going to name it?

paris

:

paris

! *tee hee*

.dea. says:

hehehehehhhh

.dea. make the most of it. make the best of it. says:

the word ‘

paris

‘ is starting to lose meaning….we’ve said it too many times….

knez - says:

she said that?

.dea. says:

hahahaha yeah

.dea. says:

saw it on e channel

knez - says:

fine…say hector

knez - says:

or achilles

.dea. says:

which, i must stress, delivers journalism with integrity

.dea. says:

hahaha

iR . says:

hahahaha

iR . says:

errmm, nes

.dea. says:

oohhh achilles….brad pitt……

iR . says:

greeks these days dont have such names

.dea. says:

hahahaha

.dea. says:

a dose of reality

iR . says:

just like indonesians dont get named kertoredjo or hassanudin anymore

knez - says:

yea…cos , like, ‘e’ rhymes with integrity

knez - says:

why not?

knez - says:

di telenovela mana gitu ada yang namanya hector

iR . says:

well hector’s fine, but not achilles

iR . says:

now achilles refers more to that disease

.dea. says:

emg hector itu nama greek?

iR . says:

achilles foot

.dea. says:

isnt it achilles’ heel?

.dea. says:

hmmmm

knez - says:

yesssss

iR . says:

oh iya

iR . says:

hahahahahaha

iR . says:

heel not foot

.dea. says:

oh wait that’s the phrase that refers to your one weakness

iR . says:

hahahahaha

knez - says:

yes yes

.dea. says:

i think foot is the disease

.dea. says:

hahahahha

knez - says:

yea wtv we all get the point

iR . says:

hahahaha ok whatever

iR . says:

pokoknya one of them is a disease

.dea. says:

do we all really?

.dea. says:

hahahaha

.dea. says:

eh rene, i was telling agnes the other day

.dea. says:

theres a malaysian superhero called….

.dea. says:

wait for it…wait for it…..

It’s sex-it-up week at Monash Caulfield. And to get into the, uh, spirit of the occasion, I thought that I could write something a little more risqué than usual. Just a little friendly suggestion, if you wish to preserve the limpidness of your perceptions about me or the world in general, I’d thank you if you’d refrain from being nosy. But if you go ahead anyway, I propose that you not judge. I propose that you keep an open mind.

I once read somewhere that all the things happening in this world are meant to lead towards reproduction. Lots of people have been writing thesis about this and if you come to think about it, or if you’re like me, it kind of makes sense. And then it kind of creeps you out a little bit. To get into the means end of reproduction, you’ve got sex. Before sex, you’ve got attraction. Before attraction, you’ve got self-grooming. And now you can argue that those morning getting-readies are just nature flat out working to get you to reproduce.

A lot of people nowadays, however, can argue back that procreating is losing popularity cause it’s all just about sex, drugs, and rock n roll. That maybe true, but one can’t deny that attraction, the chemical warfare, and the magic that happens afterwards are still heavy in rotation on the circuits. All of which are, again, nature’s way of you-know-right ever since the golden days. Say, maybe we’re all just suits-wearing cavemen running around.

My biology teacher back in secondary school once told the class that considering all the grueling work that women’s reproductive systems have to undergo every month, it would be a shame if they are not utilised for proliferation (No, she’s not anti-feminist. She used to read Asterix & Obelix during our free times). I guess that’s what the universe asks of us, really. To survive, to ensure that human beings will be around a century from now to rule the world, to reproduce. Such substantial responsibilities we have, huh? Sex is some serious business.

All of which brings me to the point of how, for lack of a better word, “creative” this whole business can be. Thanks to the internet, some cheeky bloggers across the continents, and urbandictionary.com, we can all rest peacefully knowing that we have all the R & D aspects cornered in this market. Sometimes you just can’t believe the things people do to spice up stuff. Kinkiness can be so underrated, though sometimes you’re not sure if you want to know everything about them.

“Look at the couple out there. They’re taking half an hour to eat their calamari. You know what it must taste like by now? Like cold rubber bands. Calamari needs to be eaten when it’s hot and fresh or it goes bad. Sometimes sex is like that too. Sometimes you have to enjoy it right away – in the moment.”

– The Waiter

Oh, wit is such a turn-on. Can someone say it in Spanish accent?

And so I was queuing up for the computer in the library when I finally spotted a person leaving hers. Seeing that the only thing standing between me and my destiny is not acting upon such a blatant signal to get things moving, I politely pointed out the road to awakening and encouraged the guy in front of me to go to the light. At first, guy didn’t seem able to decipher my personal enlightenment in mapping out his chance at shagging an electronic brain. So I tried again and guy started to shuffle his way forward. A few seconds later, I finally saw my shot towards virtual redemption. An incident took place, however, and standing before me in substantial proximity, I witnessed guy’s dream getting shattered. You see, the problem with diplomas is that they don’t come with manners complementary. A little missy who seemed to have been sharing a computer with her friend took the yoke of a politeness-challenged society’s member and eased herself into the newly vacated spot located right next to her previous hanging-out corner, which happens to be the one I just led the guy towards. It seems like missy-head just doesn’t get the fact that queues are part of some etiquettes executed in civilisations for the sole purpose of guarding peace and harmony. I felt bad for the guy. After all, I was the one who promoted that particular site. When I realised that guy didn’t fight for his human right, another computer was finally abandoned by its previous user. With all the limited experience I had with random sign language, I indicated guy towards my new discovery. Mid-way through his attempt at propinquity, another person snatched the spot, again. My meter went straight up to guilt. His day is so ill-omened and I couldn’t help feeling like an accessory to an inauspicious entity or something. The problem with my being guilty is that it generally stirred up the sleeping Samaritan in me. When the guy didn’t seem like he’s going to talk his way into the workstation, I offered my diplomatic skills and services to save the day. From his pretty cryptic replies, I gathered that he refused and seemed ok with accepting his fate. I approached the person who just snapped the spot anyway and tried to explain to her that she needs to queue. She said that she did. She said that she queued behind me. So I maneuvered tactic and appealed towards her side of humanity and tried to present the guy in case. Only problem is, the guy I tried to help has departed from the scene and all I saw was him exiting the library. I was like “never mind” and proceeded to subject my processor towards lecture printing labour. So much for ‘thank you’ or anything for that matter.

Wait…

Did I remember to hide my fangs? Checked.

Did I totally cover my laser eyes? Checked.

Right, my handbag was oozing blood from the leftover lunch in it that I had a few hours earlier.

some of the best things in the world are made in switzerland; hotels, chocolates, and roger federer.

anyway.

to coin the term ‘cute agnes’ is enough an oxymoron as it is with airplane food, chocolate mint, or united nations. i’ve been silly, creepy, or awkward. but for the love of uncle toby’s oat wheat bar (which is totally the best thing that ever happened to the supermarket breakfast aisle), i’m never cute. well, not without purpose at least. i do have tried to cute my way out of some shady situations. though afterwards it always made me go "whaaa…?" yup. it was never pretty. cuteness is so overrated. but i always come back for more. especially when the going gets tough. and the tough gets cute to get herself out of whatever problem it is she’s run into.

to quote from the movie art school confidential, i am currently in desperate need for that "narcotic moment of creative bliss". there are assignments looming in the nearby horizon. there are options for future to be thought about and chosen. there are theories to be processed on why i keep rhyming on. and for the heckuva time, there is a blog i somehow feel the cosmic attachment and need to take care of. yea, my creepy level just upped by 14%.

the other day, i was walking down the road on my own when a thunder-cloud of juvenile merriment were swooping down upon me. i would lie if i didn’t say i felt the slightest bit of envy. yes, despite all the "excitement" and "stuff" that the future might represent, i still miss those times when 1+1=2. life was good when all the calculations involved are studying somehow plus being seemingly too cool for trouble, which actually equals to happy times. stupidity is so underrated. some just never know the joy and awesomeness that emerge from being so carefree and stupid, really. wouldn’t it be fun if there are always fences to be jumped across, windows to be broken into or disciplinary masters to run away from? we can all be just a bunch of smartass whose life objective is to become celebrated specialists in sophisticated strategy-making for disquiet and nuisance. heh heh. reality check. grow up. i know. but i don’t wanna…   

so, will agnes finally get her pretentious imaginary muse back? will she finally deal with the fact that she’s a teen no longer? will she ever for her life get any cuter?

"…"

yes. yes. and not a chance in hell.   

 

easy, kids. nobody’s doing any flashing during the course of this entry.

i’m tired. like my head aches and my vision slows kind of tired. my feet hurt. funny how pretty shoes are always that determined to suck the life out of your toes.

it’s my first day at internship, and already i’m going home way past my scheduled hour. the train is super full. so i wait for the next one. the train is crowded. and it’s still funny how being in crowds often brings out the worst in me. it’s a soupin’ packed train, but i manage to get some fingers to hold onto something. mental note: work on those balancing skills. the next station i force myself to move towards the middle. just capital. i have to stand facing 2 girls who keep giggling and singing like it’s in outer space. then the train finally arrives at another station, where all of the passengers on the platform greet those onboard in awe. it’s like a unison chorus of "o" on mute. giggling girls go full force into an ongoing tirade of stating the obvious. door opens. those onboard near the door were all like, "can’t get more in, mate. there’s no space." but there’s a couple of 2 very determined elderly who insist upon boarding the train. "you have to squeeze in a little bit, there’s still space over there." the determined troopers cry. "but there’s no more space!" the determined troopers cry back. so like any mature and exemplary citizens do, grandpa #1 hold the door when it closes. after a few times, the train operator gets out of his holy chamber to do whatever it is that he feels obliged to do. grandpa #1 gives up. train operator then goes back and continues the journey.

ostensibly unable to accept defeat gracefully, grandpa #2 argues with the other train people, "there’s still space, if people would just move towards the middle!" the united front of squeezed-up train people groan. "yes, but there’s nothing for them to hold on to!" giggly girl #1 argues back.

i stand corrected. damn, girl. respect.

so i telepath my approval to her, though giggly girl #1 does not seem to pick up on my psychic attempts at camaraderie.

"well you can hold on to each other!" souphead grandpa #2 lobbies. said suggestion met with "what?", "what the…" or general roar of laughter from the members of the floor. gee, we might as well grab and make out with each other while we’re at it. giggly girl #2 is all, "yeah right, like a train of love."

a few long long minutes down the rail, something causes the train crowd to skew against me. "hey, you ok? you have that worried look on your face." giggly girl #1 asks. "you should try holding on to that." giggly girl #2 points. "yeah, i probably should." i mumble and smile my thanks.