If you want some good reading for a lovely Saturday night, go read Dan Brown. Otherwise, read on:

Hi, this is Betsy Stockwell, and here's the latest from Casa Wahid.

Ili Izyani, sister to The Fiz and reason for his grey hairs, has finished painting part of her room red. She was aided by her father (efforts to find him a good nickname continues).

Said Ili, "Alah, papa keep taking away the paintbrush from meee! Cannot even finish myself! Might as well go watch TV right? Haiiii! Where the remote, ah? Oh, on top of the TV. ABANG!!! Can take the remote for me? Hehehehe! Sorry ah! :D"

Reactions to the new colour scheme of red and yellow are decidedly mixed. Some praised it as adding some spice to an otherwise tired looking room. Others lambasted it, saying it looks like a "typical Malay room". Fans of Watford Football Club are among the most ardent supporters of the new colour scheme. Reports of Elton John posters adorning Ili's room have been quashed by Ili herself.

Meanwhile, the matriach of the house recently received an e-mail from her friend asking her to sign up for a Multiply blog. Since the friend in question currently lives in Dubai, and figuring that this is a good way to keep in touch with her friend, she duly signed up, making her possibly the oldest person to ever join Multiply. Her son was reported to be extremely chagrined about this new development.

And finally, to The Fiz himself. After months of an ever increasing rise in his phone bill, his father (Mr. Boyan? Naah, corny) has decided enough is enough. Starting from the next month, Fiz will be paying his own bills, a development that family watchers agree was an inevitability. The Fiz was said to be not too worried about this. With the meal allowances SCDF is giving him that will boost his small salary, and his rumoured plans to buy a cordless phone for his room, perhaps he shouldn't have to be.

And that was the news from Casa Wahid. We now return you to your regular business.

*******************

Well, well, well.

Trust Alfian Sa'at to put some of my thoughts into words. Don't I wish they weren't true.

"Ho ho! I'm Duh Fiz! I'm so stooopid! This blog sucks, eh? What am I trying to kid, I'm no Mr Brown. Why bother to try? Oh, and your "buddies"! How do you know they're not laughing at you behind your back, huh? At least those guys you keep cursing in camp, they're brutally honest about you! They're ignoring you, leaving you, not caring a bloody fook about you! You know why? Because you're a weirdo, Fizzy boy, you're a luuuuuser! Why even bother trying to go on, huh? Tell me, tell me, queer boy!"
















Seriously, if I'm going to beat myself up, I should just go all out and get it over with, right?

-sigh-

Alright. Enough. No more self-loathing. The last thing I need is a Tyler Durden.

Honestly, I sincerely doubt if either Hady or Jon, good as they are, will top this:



But, best of luck to the both of them. At least I know this won't be an easy choice this time around unlike last season.

Having said that, I just realised I'm wearing a blue shirt. :D

Left Fiz: So, what can I expect in NS?
Right Fiz: I'd tell you, but why ruin the horr...I mean, surprise?

**********

This goes out to everyone fasting: Stomachs, let's get ready to RUMBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Mmhmm, I was planning a little story, one of those which will entertain people while hinting at my current cause of gloom. But, eh, I'm not in the mood.

So, straight up: Two times I've been placed in the public spotlight now. Two times, I crashed and burned horribly.

Nerves can be a terrible, yet picky, enemy. Those in control of their emotions, those supremely confident in themselves, they rarely get troubled by nerves. As opposed to people like me, well, nerves eat us for breakfast.

The usual thing: get confidence, be less nervous, bla bla bla. I'm way past getting sick of talking about this.

Oh, I'm over the cock-up itself. I'm just still not over the fact that said cock-up might have single-handedly destroyed a friend's dream. I'm just glad she was calm enough to save the whole thing.

You have to understand, I was entrusted with one simple yet vital job, and I blew it. I failed her and myself.

Nerves are one thing, in the end, they're quite manageable. But, guilt. That won't leave in a hurry.

Yep, I cannot wait till I get to the point where me and her can both laugh about this. I know Don is.

Now, I'm going to go work on that project that I've put off for way too long.

Today is the first day since I entered NS that I have been in a good mood for the entire day.

Yay!

Today, I have also been awake for about 30 hours. Why? Because I can! Seriously. Which is why this post is so straightfoward and dull for my standards. Creativity goes down the toilet when your brain is working solely on caffeine.

I took leave from today until Monday. Because when you feel like shooting your boss, who by the way has done nothing that warrants even a faint grunt of derision, so far, you have to take a break.

Because of the computer's operation and concession fares, I have to figure out how to make $150 (give or take a dollar) go a long way. May as well burn it all, cause it's nearly time to start doing my best impression of a poor starving kid in the daytime. Who has the mood to go out when you're hungry, thirsty and for a number of people, smoke-free?

Non-sequitor alert!

Jealousy is a foul, foul thing. It eats in you, never taking a break from chewing your insides, until all that's left is a shapeless bitter mass of green sludge. For people (like yours truly) who are prone to griping and hand-wringing every time they see some expertly written prose on a popular website instead of actually knuckling down and try to actually match or even beat that standard, it hits doubly hard.

I hear successful people use their less desirable feelings and use them to their advantage. Jealousy fuels these people's competitive drive. It makes them better writers, actors, businessmen, cooks, window-washers. That's my goal.

Apathy? Apathy is dangerous. You could use it to hide behind your problems. Who freakin' cares if I don't have a girlfriend? But let it be your whole personality, and your life will be worth naught.

It's gonna be a long weekend.

I can not, and will not, promise not to whine and moan about my life anymore. If I did, this blog wouldn't last very long, would it? But I will try to keep it to a minimum. Failing which, I'll try to be clever about it, like say, letting my conscience be my guide AND replacement writer.

In other news, what the heck am I doing staying up so late?

What has National Service done to me?

Four words to fill your everyday needs

Snakes on a Plane.

Try saying that every time you're stressed out. Or, if you're daring enough, even answering every question with that.

"You got a minute?" "Snakes on a Plane."

"Who'll get voted out next week?" "Snakes on a Plane."

"Anything to declare?" "Snakes on a Plane."

"WHY SO LATE?!" "MUTHAFUCKIN' SNAKES ON A MUTHAFUCKIN' PLANE!!!"

"Snakes on yo mama?" "NO! Snakes on a Plane!"

Very thereapeutic stuff.

So, in closing:

Snakes on a Plane.

2% of suicides are caused by the inability to cope with blogger's block.

Ok, Fiz, ok, calm down, calm down, don't get so.....oh, someone's at the door.

Oh, hi! Come on in! I was just clearing up my blogspace. Careful of the broken glass, ya?

What's that? Oh, do I look that stressed? I'm sorry, I'm just thinking of my dear old computer. It's getting a motherboard transplant, you know. And oh, the price! But never mind. I'll get it back in 2 weeks, good as new.

These stack of papers? Ah, they're just descriptions of the vocations I could've gotten. Here, let me share some with you.

Firefighter. Fight fire, breathe toxic smoke, save damsels in distress and save the occasional cat on a tree. Pretty cool. Unfortunately, I'm too unfit for consideration, so let's move on.

Provost. Wave people and cars in the building, wave them out. All bloody day. At least you can arrest people. But, nah, pass.

Dog handler. With my dog phobia? In the bin wit ya!

Info-Comm. Play around with communication devices like walkie-talkie and stuff. The people that are in charge of that button that will recall every single NSman in the country. Hmmm, interesting.

Listen to me. As if I have a choice of where I'm posted. Heh.

Well, this is my posting. Clerk. Big surprise. In charge of all the admin stuff. I expect a lot of people to befriend me and persuade me to raise their allowance just a little bit.

Yes, don't worry, I'm fine with the posting. I don't have to run around and get sweaty all day. To heck with the air-con and the dry skin and the chapped lips and the glayvin!

Oh, you have to leave now? Is my blogspace really that smelly? Ok, then. Don't forget to get your coat!

Heh, I know, thanks for the concern, but don't worry, I'm fine. I just let all the shit in my life get to me for far too long. Last time that happened 2 years ago......well, you know. Can't let that happen again, can I? I'd go to the DB if I do. Heh. Yeah.

I'll see ya around, then.

:)