laugh out loud!

dis·in·ter·est·ed /dɪsˈɪntəˌrɛstɪd, -trɪstɪd/ Pronunciation Key – Show Spelled Pronunciation[dis-in-tuh-res-tid, -tri-stid] Pronunciation Key – Show IPA Pronunciation

–adjective

1.	unbiased by personal interest or advantage; not influenced by selfish motives: a disinterested decision by the referee.

2.	not interested; indifferent.

---

[Origin: 1605–15; dis-¹ + interested]

—Related forms

dis·in·ter·est·ed·ly, adverb

dis·in·ter·est·ed·ness, noun

—Synonyms 1. impartial, neutral, unprejudiced, dispassionate. See fair¹.

—Antonyms 1. partial, biased.

—Usage note Disinterested and uninterested share a confused and confusing history. Disinterested was originally used to mean “not interested, indifferent”; uninterested in its earliest use meant “impartial.” By various developmental twists, disinterested is now used in both senses. Uninterested is used mainly in the sense “not interested, indifferent.” It is occasionally used to mean “not having a personal or property interest.”
Many object to the use of disinterested to mean “not interested, indifferent.” They insist that disinterested can mean only “impartial”: A disinterested observer is the best judge of behavior. However, both senses are well established in all varieties of English, and the sense intended is almost always clear from the context.

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

i find this funny. hehe. screw it if you don’t :]

never let go

for those of you still waiting for the super cheerful post, this isn’t it.sorry.

he walked alone through the maze of exhibitions in the large hall. paintings of all kinds hung on the walls, some instantly recognisable, others vague and seemingly meaningless. he walked along aimlessly, stopping only at exhibits that merited his attention. he turned a corner, and came to an oil canvas that was a blur of dark blues and greens and browns. he stopped and took a good hard look at the painting. there were two figures in the midst of the colours. one looked to be above the other, steadying himself on the head of the one below whose arms were flailing seemingly in distress. and then it all started coming back to him.
***
the room was a mess. all the drawers had been pulled out. most were empty. the closet door was open, and her side of the wardrobe had been cleared. then it dawned on him.
she’s gone. and she’s not coming back.
he noticed the letter on the desk. he unfolded the note, his heart sinking with regret as he began to read.

i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep holding you up, keep looking out for you and watch you take me for granted. i don’t know what sins i’ve commited in my past lives that i should deserve this. i don’t know what you think of me. i don’t know what to say to you, what to feel when i’m with you. but i do know one thing, that from now on, i’m gonna have to make it alone. and i sincerely hope for the best for you. keep the painting. it’s for you. take care.

he looked up at the painting leaning on the wall beside the desk. and he cried like never before.
***
it took him a while to realise that the figure on top in the painting was him. he had lost the one thing he coveted most in his life. only he never showed it.
if only she knew how much i loved her. how much i still love her.
he hung his head, said a silent prayer, and moved on.

how many people have to get dragged under just for one to get hold of the next breath?

how many extended hands have to be bitten before one realises that it is oneself in that painting?

i’m sorry.

smells like home!

i like the smell of kch when you step off the plane
i donno lah mebbe its a psychological thing but everytime i come outta the plane i always think to myself humm this place smells good.lol.imagine living in india.keke.no offence meant but i’ve heard ppl say that it stinks in india.like the moment you reach the door of the plane the whole hot humid smelly heat wave smacks you in the face o.O
anyways, kuching!

he walked up to the door, luggage in one hand, flowers in the other, and paused.he set the suitcase down, adjusted his collar, rearranged the bouqet of flowers for the umpteenth time and smiled nervously to himself.then he knocked.no response.he knocked again, an ever so slight uneasiness creeping into his mind.
“she’s never taken so long to answer the door,” he thought to himself, “is she out for dinner?”
he knocked again.this time he heard footsteps rushing to the door, which swung open.
for a moment, he stood rooted to the spot, his brain struggling to take in what his eyes were seeing.
he saw a young boy he didn’t recognise, and behind him a girl, a young woman, who seemed vaguely familiar.she looked him in the eyes, and for one fleeting moment, it all seemed lost to him.
and then she turned around and called out, “mum!dad’s homee!”
he dropped the flowers and pulled them both into a deep embrace.and then she came rushing out.he reluctantly let go of his daughter and son, and picked up the flowers.
“these are for you.”they shared a kiss so deep, his eyes began to tear.
“what has the world done to me?” he thought to himself.
as if reading his thoughts,she pulled him closer and whispered into his ear, “its alrite.you’re home now.”

lalala where is everyone?
come home!!

budden again,she’s more than enough isn’t she? (:

forced entry

how much control do we really have over our own lives?

how are we supposed to define ourselves? by wad others think of us? by how much we achieve in life?why izzit that some ppl are able to do so much with their lives and yet never find themselves, and some have all the self confidence in the world yet achieve nth?

man rhetorical questions are the best.cos you never hafta answer them.hehe.

gotta stop this blog from getting anymore morbid.lol.

cemara officers are brainless inconsiderate asses. 

for the sake of my scholarship i shall try to refrain from writing lidat in the future.blehk.

time to go find myself (:

change :)

the incessant buzzing of her phone forced her to open her eyes.

she peered at the screen, and smiled.

* * * * *

he awoke to the buzzing of his mobile phone.

he too looked at the screen, and smiled.

* * * * *

i have exams in an hour and im blogging.oh well.waddaheck=D

today is a good day (:

contempt

sometimes in life, we need to hate. for whatever reason. it’s in human nature to judge, to have prejudiced perceptions and hence a prejudiced attitude towards people, things, cats; based on these prejudiced perceptions. which eventually brings us to hate. save for the select few, we all tend to glorify ourselves, our actions, we tend to think of ourselves as right. until we begin to see ourselves in a different light, a light that casts that shadow of doubt on our aura of perceived infallibility. then, we begin to doubt. we question. we whine and complain. and regardless of what we all might think, it’s in our nature to behave like this. when we begin to fall, when the shell of invincibility begins to crack, we begin to realise how truly weak we are. some people never reach this phase in life. those who are incapable of having even the slightest bit of humility to accept the fact that we will never be invincible, infallible, perfect, eventually fall from their perceived higher level of being and will never be capable of picking themselves up and moving on, for they are never humble enough to allow a helping hand. they hate.

for those who are mature enough to accept the fact that we will never be good enough on our own, life has so much more in store. why hate, when we can love? why take the side of those who hate the world and leave us gasping for air, when we can be with those who are willing to help us, hold us up?

because good people are hard to find.so when you do, if you do, hang on for dear life.

which kind are you? don’t judge. not too easy, is it? (:

indeed

its late. i need to sleep.my first post