who buys a vuvuzela anyways?
Greetings from Malacca, the historical state of Malaysia. It is full of historical colonial legacies from the past such as the A'Famosa and Saint Paul's Church and rich culture.
We also have bloody vuvuzelas blowing in the evening.
What happened was that my cousin took me out to tour Malacca last Saturday as I was such a 'nice' girl that never toured around the city centre yet despite starting university here a scant month before (nice? I'm not nice. I was just too bloody lazy lol). We climbed up to the hill that had Saint Paul's Church in the evening, watched the coast of the sea and the Eye of Malaysia from the horizon, feeling peaceful in an almost zen-like medititive way when out of nowhere, the 'bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzttt' sound of a vuvuzela well blown came out.
What the hell people. Why that of all things?
It's not that I have anything against vuvuzelas on the whole really. Really, blow your vuvuzela all you want, random-person-in-malacca-who-owns-a-vuvuzela. It's just that I was about to chill really, maybe soak myself in the awesomeness of leaning against the walls of a church used by the Portuguese and Dutch (but not the British, stubborn as they are. They used it to store gunpowder), complementing how my country could, at some parts, be cool like other countries in the world when you blew it. You disrupted my peace. My thinking. My moment of thinking I could've looked halfway decent in a picture leaning against a wall riddled with old bullet holes. Thanks man.
Changing the subject now, I've taken up a foundation in law in Multimedia University. Sadly my dreams of owning an office with a reclining chair and a bookshelf filled with books by Freud and his obsession with blaming everything on sexual frustration cannot be realised. And this place doesn't have psychology as a subject either. But I'll find a way to get to learn something about psychology. One day. After all, I want a damn office filled with books about UST. Think about the stuff I could write.
Taking law isn't the smartest thing I did. Hell, I wasn't really sure I could carry it. I'm more to breaking the law than upholding it after all. But beggers can't be choosers I suppose and I could still get out of this country if I work overseas. It's not that I don't love you Malaysia, really. It's me, not you. No wait, it's you. You know that stage in marriage when you feel like you're bored of your partner and/or is going through a midlife crisis? Yeah,. This is mine. Despite being thirty years too young and a female. Stick it.
We also have bloody vuvuzelas blowing in the evening.
What happened was that my cousin took me out to tour Malacca last Saturday as I was such a 'nice' girl that never toured around the city centre yet despite starting university here a scant month before (nice? I'm not nice. I was just too bloody lazy lol). We climbed up to the hill that had Saint Paul's Church in the evening, watched the coast of the sea and the Eye of Malaysia from the horizon, feeling peaceful in an almost zen-like medititive way when out of nowhere, the 'bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzttt' sound of a vuvuzela well blown came out.
What the hell people. Why that of all things?
It's not that I have anything against vuvuzelas on the whole really. Really, blow your vuvuzela all you want, random-person-in-malacca-who-owns-a-vuvuzela. It's just that I was about to chill really, maybe soak myself in the awesomeness of leaning against the walls of a church used by the Portuguese and Dutch (but not the British, stubborn as they are. They used it to store gunpowder), complementing how my country could, at some parts, be cool like other countries in the world when you blew it. You disrupted my peace. My thinking. My moment of thinking I could've looked halfway decent in a picture leaning against a wall riddled with old bullet holes. Thanks man.
Changing the subject now, I've taken up a foundation in law in Multimedia University. Sadly my dreams of owning an office with a reclining chair and a bookshelf filled with books by Freud and his obsession with blaming everything on sexual frustration cannot be realised. And this place doesn't have psychology as a subject either. But I'll find a way to get to learn something about psychology. One day. After all, I want a damn office filled with books about UST. Think about the stuff I could write.
Taking law isn't the smartest thing I did. Hell, I wasn't really sure I could carry it. I'm more to breaking the law than upholding it after all. But beggers can't be choosers I suppose and I could still get out of this country if I work overseas. It's not that I don't love you Malaysia, really. It's me, not you. No wait, it's you. You know that stage in marriage when you feel like you're bored of your partner and/or is going through a midlife crisis? Yeah,. This is mine. Despite being thirty years too young and a female. Stick it.