Twenty sixth of february twenty thirteen; the day my celebrity dream came true

Pls be forewarned that this is a disgustingly long arse post of my inner fan girl!

***

Up until three days ago I would have told you how horrible February has been to me. Reason? Because my ultimate shipping of all times was here in Malaysia and I didn't managed to finagle an invite to the meet and greet.

It was sometimes around the first and second day of Chinese New Year that I got wind that Patrick J Adams and Troian Bellisario was coming to Malaysia as a part of Patrick's Suits Asia Pacific Press Tour and gawd was I excited. I mean they are the only celebrity couples that I'm actually rooting for.

I ship Ezria too but that's fictional and I've long given up hope that Ian and Lucy will end up together though I'm still hoping that Marlene won't kill them off in the coming season.

So back to Patrian, did some digging around and found out that Diva is hosting their trip here and the only way to win the m&g is to enter  this luckydraw thingy by astro. It was a bummer for me because I've never won any competition in my life but for that one time when I was fifteen and I won the fifty ringgit VIP tickets for my school fundraising concert and I didn't even turn up for that.

At that point, I'd have paid to meet them but since it wasn't a viable option, I entered the competition with all my heart and guess what, and no prizes for being able to guess either, I didn't effin win. I was disappointed, depressed and *inserts all synonyms of the aforementioned emotions*. I really really wanted to meet them so badly that I would have done anything to win the m&g but it was a closed cocktail party -they didn't even reveal the venue on the website- so there was nothing I can really do.

I moped and eventually I gotten hold of my feelings and have started to come to terms with my disappointment for not meeting them.That is until astro decided to eff with my feelings even more by sending me a text around one pm on the day that the cocktail party was to be held. It asked me to collect my tickets at the venue of the cocktail party. I was so damn happy as I thought I've actually won. I was literally shaking, hyperventilating and whatnot.


I can never adequately express the plethora of emotions that was bubbling within me when I thought that I will be meeting the subjects of my shipping. I can honestly tell you that I was beyond ecstatic for once in so many years.

Pardon my language but I was so darn happy. At that moment, I can even understand why some people pay a ton to go concerts,do crazy things just to meet their idols and generally went ballistic if they did meet 'em. Sorry but I used to be a judgmental biatch towards fan girls because I don't get their enthusiasm and fixation and for that I owe all you fan girls out there A HUGE APOLOGY.

So as I was saying, I was all happy and giddy preparing to leave for the venue in Bangsar only to receive another text from astro saying that their system had a glitch and I was sent an invalid invitation and most importantly NO ADMISSION for those didn't win. ARE YOU FRIGGIN KIDDING ME?!?! Yes, that was my reaction which was swiftly followed with bereavement. I wanted to cry but it seemed that my body was grieved into a state of inertia. I wasn't even capable of feeling anything other than sorrow.

You would think that that was the end of the tragedy right? But no, as life hates me, it went much further. As astro sent the sms with the venue to all the participants of the competition, some of the really hardcore fans who actually proceed to crash the party did managed to meet Patrick and Troian. From what I know, both of them heard of the shit that astro made us go through and came out to meet all those fans who've waited for hours outside the restaurant.

YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME?

If I was devastated before I was shattered after I found out about that news and it doesn't help the matter that for the following days pictures and posts of fans meeting Patrian kept popping up on twitter and instagram.

No kiddin but I actually sank into depression because of it. I lost my appetite and all I could think of was "Why didn't I get the effin chance to meet 'em" It even went as drastic as me not studying for my midterm because I was busy nursing my wound by going through both Patrick and Troian's twitter and instagram. Not that it help as it only worsen my griefs but I guess I'm just masochistic enough to inflict those pain onto myself.

So on monday night, after barely scraping through my midterm, I resumed what I do best which is inflicting even more pain and heartache on myself by stalking through their hashtags at twitter and instagram. I don't even know why I kept doing that to myself. I knew it was going to hurt but still I soldiered on and I did indeed get hurt enough to go mad. From all the hashtags I go through it seems that half of the people in KL have meet them, whether it was during the m&g, a chance encounter or an orchestrated one.

I was close to popping my lid and I finally had enough when one girl posted about how she was just walking around Bangsar and she bumped into them. Wtf right? I was dying to meet them and all she did was walking around and she bumped into them? I just had enough especially since through my stalking I found out that they'll be leaving the next day.

It was around eleven something on monday night that I decided that if I want to meet them I'll have to take action instead of sitting around and moping. So I did more snooping, found out about the time of their flights (don't ask), did some calculation and roped a friend into going fan girl mode with me.

Thank you Hannah! Thank you so very much for going there with me and waiting with me and so very sorry that I didn't get their autographs for you.

Yes, I did the unthinkable. I, who is the embodiment of rationality, logic,over-thinking, prim and proper  went and waited for them at their hotel ala fan girl mode. It was a super last minute decision and I have to tell you that I barely had a wink of sleep after I made that decision as I was so nervous. Nervous about meeting them. Nervous about missing them. I played out a thousand and one scenarios in my head the whole night.

I was even more besieged by nerves when I was on my way to their hotel. I was so afraid of missing them by mere minutes or that they wouldn't entertain us although all the fans who've met them said that they're really gracious, friendly, down-to-earth and they have no airs around them. In fact, I was so afraid of missing them that I didn't dared to go to the toilet even when I was dying to pee. And the whole time that I was there waiting for them, I was even more nervous as I was afraid that the guard would kick us out and that fear intensified when Hannah  left at eleven so as not to miss class.

Yes, I ditch class for it. I know I know very not me right. And according to le bestie, H, this is a nauseatingly fan girl side of me that she didn't even know about. Ha, wait till she hears about how I managed to snoop out their flight information!

Good news: halfway waiting for them I met three other fan girls/boy who came to wait for them too. The security in numbers I tell you. I've waited for an hour and fourty five minutes before I saw them. As I have waited for so long, by then I hadn't been snatching my head up from my phone every time someone passed by, so I was so stunned when I lifted my head and the first person I saw was Troian.

I automatically gravitated towards her while the other three stormed to Patrick.

Me: *shyly says* hi

Troian: Hi. That's the cutest outfit ever.

Me: Thank you. I'm such a huge fan of yours. Can I have a picture with you?

Troain: Sure but make it quick as we're late to the airport

Me: You're leaving to the Philippines right? *trying to open my camera apps which refused to work*

Troain: Yeah. 

Honestly I don't remember what happened next as it was all a blur. All I can remember is I've muttered so many incoherent gibberish things to her that are along the line of I'm a huge fans of yours, I've waited so long for you, you're my inspiration etc. We took a photo and I turned to Patrick and did the most horrible faux pass ever!

Patrick: Hi *offers his hand for a handshake*

Me: Adam! *with so much enthusiasm that I wanna die* -took his proffered hand

Patrick: Patrick. My name's Patrick.

Me: OMGOSH. I'm so sorry, it's just that your twitter and IG -

Patrick: It's okay.

Me: I'm really sorry. Can we have a picture?
Patrick: Of course

Thinking about it still makes me wanna dig a hole and bury myself in there for the rest of eternity. I met one of my biggest celebrity crush of all times and I didn't even called him by his right name. I don't know why I even called him Adam. It's just that I was so flustered about actually meeting him that I blurted out the first thing in my brain: his surname. It's so embarrassing I tell you.

I think I even got a punishment for that. My pictures with them, especially him, came out horribly blur. I mean I could have asked for another take but I felt bad as they were already rushing to the airport so I didn't want to impose on them more than I already have. Le sigh. At least I got their autographs but even that turned out wrong as my pen ran outta ink. Bad luck must be trailing me.

I am disgruntled but I can't deny that I have actually got what I wanted which is to meet them. The picture turned out blur beyond repair. My pen ran outta ink but bottom line is I have met them. I have met them even though I didn't win the m&g. I have met them although I've already resigned myself to the fact that I won't ever see them. So what if the picture is blur? The picture might be blur but I'm not gonna let it mar our meeting because my dream did came true.

I know both of you might not see this ever but thank you Patrick for taking time out of your schedule to take pictures with us even though I made a blunder and called you Adam. Thank you for being so nice about it and being my inspiration with your struggle to be where you are today without ever giving up on your dream. You had one hella a lot of one shot appearance in many tv shows and yet you never gave up. For that, you'll always be my inspiration when the going gets tough for me.

Thank you Troian for being so gracious, friendly, kind, nice, down to earth and everything that I thought you would be. You're really gorgeous even without makeups and even as an international star you have no airs whatsoever when you have all the rights to be so thank you for entertaining a request of a mere fan girl like me. You're honestly my favourite liars and I would have to say my favourite actress of all times too. Continue to give stellar performances as Spencer and as an actress and one day I hope you and Patrick will make it to the Oscars.

And finally I want to thank the both of you for making one of my tiny -but seemed impossible then- dream come true. 26.02.13 will forever be emblazoned in me.

***

P.s: Plenty of grammatical errors and typos around but I don't care because I've met them and if you comment on how blur those pictures are I'll stuff you in a turkey so don't rain on my parade. 

White Vandalism

I vandalize for the first time.

But before I go into more details about it I shall digress and give a prelude as to why I'm actually posting this. Few months ago I was lamenting to my brother about this depressing blog that I was reading at that time and guess what he told me? He said, "Your blog also the same lar." Excuse me?Just because my blog is wordy and often without vain pictures of me posing in the bloody toilet, it doesn't bloody mean that it's depressing OK.

Hence the birth of this post instead of keeping this in the memory archives of mine that will only be shared with family and close friends.This will be a blog testament of how my blog is not depressing and also to show a different side of me that you might not know about. (and no hannah, I'm not a depressing uptight person all the time, I can do spontaneous and fun too. You just don't know it because you zap the fun outta me. OK OK I'm just kidding so please don't leave me with the sharks for assignments next semester.)

Back to the topic on hand, I did something totally spontaneous, fun and sorta mean today. I'm actually proud of this spur of the moment feat of mine because I haven't been going with the flow for a while now.

Anyway, between the last two classes that I have today is a one and half hour break. We sometimes go out for lunch during this period but since it was only the two of us ( me and Zinc)  today we decided to just lepak in one of the empty classroom near our last class.

After grabbing a bite, we went to our usual empty classroom which is right beside where my last class would commence since my tutor is particularly stringent about tardiness. But lo and behold, all the classrooms today were occupied and instead of heading back to the canteen I decided to try our luck by scouring for empty classrooms on the floor above.

While going through the first floor, we came across this room which at that time I presume to be occupied lar since there was music seeping out of the door. There was also this A4 size paper that was stuck on the door. Upon closer inspection, I realize that whoever who wrote this must have terrible english because he/she wrongly spelled something that was so easy; a mistake which I'm sure a primary school kid wouldn't commit.

So I turned to zinc, asked her for a pen (which she comply by giving me a red one no less) went to the door and cancelled off the alphabets that shouldn't be there. While I was happily doing it, THE DOOR ACTUALLY OPENED AND ON INSTINCT I RAN FOR MY LIFE !!!

Okay, so technically I just ran to the other end of the block but still it's running OK!

Panting and slightly out of breath, I looked back over my shoulder at the crime scene and found that the guy who came out of the door a few seconds ago - who scared me shitless too btw - wasn't there anymore so I said to Zinc, "Wait for me. I'm going to finish what I started." in which she gave me disbelief cum wtf look and said "You still wanna do it?"

Well of course.

A job half done is never in the description of who I am so riding on the rush of adrenaline, I walked back to the said door and finished off what I started by writing the correct spelling on top of the wrong one, took a picture and fled as fast as my short stumpy legs could bring me.

If you are following me on instagram, twitter or tumblr you would know what I'm talking about since I posted the picture of my vandalism there but if you don't here is my artwork in red :

Truth to be told, I feel kinda mean and guilty afterwards and not to mention my fear that those people in the classroom would somehow find out that I'm the perpetrator and would then proceed to chase me off the college compound with brooms and torch but y'know that is just me being me with my over thinking and colourful imagination.

But now that I'm sitting here typing this, with of all the aforementioned emotions being washed away by the hours between, I find that I'm actually happy with what I've done and honestly a lil proud too.

Why? Because #1 Spelling error is one of my pet peeves of all time and I am with the notion that if you are going to write/publish/post something that can be seen by the public then please make sure that what you're writing/publishing/posting is correct in all sense of the word. And if in order to not publicly humiliate yourself you have to google the spelling of 'entrance' then so be it. Google is there for a reason.

#2 I have actually done something without over analyzing it. It's has been ages since I last did something without taking that piece of thought/fact/event to go over it again and again in my head, weighing the pros and cons, predicting the possible outcomes to only end up not doing anything. The usual me would have commented on the spelling error, produced the idea of doing this vandalism to only chicken out and not do it. That is me but today I've actually went through with it so yes it might be mean but no I don't regret doing it.

Oh, and for those of you who wondered why this post is titled white vandalism it is because I figured that if white lies are lies that you tell for the person's benefit then this vandalism of mine is an act of benevolent too because I'm doing it for the writer's benefit.

At least now he/she knows how to spell entrance.

One of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right

I'm an average student; not overly bright but neither can I be called dumb. I hated studying back in upper secondary and it's prolly because of the fact that I took on subjects that i have naught an interest in. Albeit hating the subject and loathing them on every second of my schooling life, I knew the importance of education which means I studied for exams even if it means studying them the night prior. Whenever I got my just-average result, I'm often content because I know that your results are often proportionate to the effort that you put in unless you got really really lucky. And when you put in as little effort as I did, one wouldn't complain much about the just-average results that you get. 

However, whenever one of the smart students in my class asked for an extra mark for their solution in Additional Mathematics or when one of them debate with the teachers on their reasoning in their Chem/Bio/Physics answers even when they have already gotten a 90+ in that particular paper, I often scoffed at them with a haughty air of condescension. More often than not, I felt that these people are just being kiasu. I used to think that: "What is an extra one mark gonna do for your 95 marks? That one mark is not gonna elevate your A+ to A++, no?" Maybe I was one of those people who never really cared about my studies and yet begrudged those that do. Or maybe back then, I just didn't try to see or understand it from their point of view. But I do now.

Because why settle for less when you can have more?

You would never really understand someone unless you are put in their shoes and even then the circumstances, emotions and surrounding factors would still influence your understanding of them. I don't know what make them asked for that extra marks and I don't think so I would actually ask them two years down the road but I do know what it feels like to want to strive for that little bit more of perfection. Because after all isn't that what I have been doing for the past year and still doing now?

If I'm being totally honest with myself, I would say that I was jealous of them and since being jealous of 'kiasu' was not acceptable, I masked my jealousy under a condescending scoff. And when  this realization dawned onto me, I realized how deformed our society has become. I'm not speaking on behalf of everyone but I do know that most people had at one point or another, did or thought of doing what I had done to those classmates of mine: to judge them on their strive to success when we're supposed to be happy or supportive of them.

We had become so selfishly entangled in our pride and ego that we turn into a green eye monster whenever we see other people achieving more than what they are supposed to. And that bagged another question to ponder upon: who are we to deem what one can or cannot achieve? We also perpetually try to put others down just in order to feel that tiny bit more better of ourselves. Is it actually worth it? And As Oprah as this may sound, I believe that everyone can achieved more than what they think they can if only they believe,work hard for it and have a strong support system from their family and friends.

And maybe, just maybe, if we can only be a lil more supportive to the people around us, I think that this can actually be a better place to live in.

Five minutes

And so there I was, sitting on an old worn chair in the bank clutching my bag in one hand while fervently turning the pages of my book of the moment when suddenly someone clutches my right hand and commanded my attention. I figured she is in her sixties; with her wrinkled face, almost-white hair and freckles sprinkled all over her hand and face.

I plastered a smile on my face and answered her questions as accurately as I could in my broken cantonese and being the elderly that she is, she continued to ramble on and on to me about her husband who was scouring for an empty parking space outside and how the parking space there are always congested, I agreed with her and gave her an appropriate reply although it was my first time in that area

After giving her a few more appropriate responses to her monologue she fell quiet beside me, waiting for the husband of hers. Albeit already being given the permission to go back to my book by her silent consent I did not do so for she had managed to arrest my attention so I studied her instead. It was then that I realized that she had the same hair as her - the short perm hair and though she was a tad bigger in size and does not smelled of the heavy-flowery perfume that she usually adorned, I'm reminded of her.

How long has it been now? Four months? Five months?

Somehow I've lost count of the days that she has been gone from our life. It is distressing to say this but life has move on without her. And this sadden me the most; how life does not stop for anyone. How one person who used to mean so much to you - and still does- can be so easily forgotten in the midst of going through everyday life. How once you stop being real - flesh and blood- you're deemed to be non-existent albeit being solidly carved into the memory tablet.

Thus, I stifled the urge to move across the room to look for that friend of mine and relish the moment of sitting beside this old lady. She might be a poor substitute for her but for a moment or two there I almost forgot that she wasn't in our life anymore. For that short five minutes, by some means, I had managed to convince myself that the lady sitting beside me is indeed her.

I'm not saying that I miss her so terribly that I broke into tears right then and there because I didn't. I'm not saying that I would give anything to have her back because I have finally accepted the fact that she's better over there than staying here and suffer from her stroke.

All I'm saying is that for that five minutes, I was content beyond reasons.

And when I leave the bank a whole twenty minutes later after helping the said old lady in her transaction, mainly because of the language barrier between her and the banker, for once in many many long and depressing months I felt that the world isn't that bad after all

Child Abuse

An old post of mine from my old blog;

Have you ever come across children in threadbare or tattered clothing begging for money on the roads or wandering alone on the streets? Have you ever seen children with burnt marks, scalded skins and scars all over their body? Or have you by any chance had any acquaintance with an adorable child who looks perfectly fine on the outside but is carrying emotional scars on the inside? Have you?

Because I had and every single time any of it happens, my heart always go out to them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the type that wear my heart on my sleeves and cry for every single thing on earth because I'm not. But there is nothing more heart wrenching than seeing (literally) a child being abuse.

It should not hurt to be a child but for some it does. The many protagonists in the non-fictions that Cathy Glass wrote about went through the most unimaginable things that you can think of; raped, abandoned, abused, and more. These are the things that are not suppose to happen to anyone what more a child but it doesn't just stop there- these things were done to them by the one who was suppose to protect them. These are the kids whose trusts are betrayed by the very same person who should have protected them instead.

Take Constance Briscoe as an example: she was one of the first black women to sit as a judge in UK. People who had not read her book will not realize that she was terribly abused by her own mother- a person who was suppose to love and dote on her instead abused her in every way possible that Constance went as far as to get herself admitted to a children's home. She is a successful person but it must have been a long and horrendous route to reach where she is today. From attempting suicide to her visits to various doctors, from financing her own studies to finally publishing Ugly. Yes, its undeniable that what she went through had made her a better and stronger person. But seriously, does anyone deserve this kind of abuse?

I don't think so. Children are gifts. Gifts that many yearned for and yet were denied of while some just take them lightly. Childhood are suppose to be the happiest phase in our life because that the only time when we're not plagued with problems, worries and dilemmas. Because thats the time when we're truly happy or sad because we just are. No pretending to smile or trying to hide our problems to the world. Children are the most straightforward being. They are a blessing in disguise.

I am lucky and grateful that I did not have to go through what Vicky Jaggers, Dave Pelzer, and Vanessa Steel went through but in lieu of just being happy and grateful with our life we can do something to prevent this from happening. We can stop child abuse if we want to. At the end of the day,it all comes down to whether or not we are willing to do something? I am. Are you?