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Showing posts from October, 2015

Broken?

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Hai assalamualaikum! I haven't been around here since forever *hides myself* *emoji mata* since I'm too 'busy' being a first-degree student.

Nah, just kidding. I'm not busy. My schedule is not packed at all (and awfully messed up), my classes are only for 2-4 hours a day, so yeah. And I don't have that much of assignments (actually I do, but since procrastination is somewhat everyone's best pursuit, so..k). A 4000-5000-word essay for History of English, a 15-page assignment on Bahasa Melayu Komunikasi, other HEL presentations and Linguistics and Languages stuff.


Yup. Bluffing would get me nowhere.

Since I have so much time due to UniSZA cancelling classes for three days (convocation stuff-related), which, sadly, those classes would have replacements and that's why I said my schedule is so messed up -_- I spend days and nights watching Once Upon A Time (season 1 to season 4, and yay I'm currently on the last episode of Season 4) and then before that …

Pain makes you stronger, they said?

It still pains me (a little) when someone asks, "Eh why you take English ah, why you not in Medic?"Uh and usually those who ask this are of my family members (like aunts and uncles and cousins of sort), bcs they have known me since forever. Fifiey, the girl who dreamed of becoming a doctor.What can I say, things change, as well as people do. I didn't want to leave my Biology, Chemistry, Physics and Maths behind but I guess the right path for me is to do so. This is the way for me.Taking English for my degree wasn't on my bucket list. But I've loved English since...I don't know, forever? Lol. I don't mind it at all, because English IS the one thing I'm passionate about.It's just that, when people ask me, "Why are you not taking Science?" it literally KILLS me inside, bit by bit. That question reminds me of my past, the one I want to leave behind. Reminds me of the shattered hopes and dreams, you know, those kind of hopelessness and heartb…

Achilles, The Bees - Carol Ann Duffy

Myth's river — where his mother dipped him,

fished him, a slippery golden boy —

flowed on, his name on its lips.

Without him, it was prophesied,

they would not take Troy.

Women hid him, concealed him in girls' sarongs;

days of sweetmeats, spices, silver song . . .

but when Odysseus came,

with an athlete's build, a sword and a shield,

he followed him to the battlefield,

the crowds' roar,

and it was sport, not war,

but charmed foot on the ball . . .



but then his heel, his heel, his heel . . .