Christmas Medley

"..I'd like to make myself believe,

that planet earth turns slowly,

its hard to say I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep

because my dreams are bursting at the seams.."

Dear lonely isle,

Is it odd to be so very tired at the end of the day but feel completely satisfied?

Is it odd to wake up feeling so tired but at the same time so ready to face the new day?

Is it odd to wake up smiling?

"..got this feeling that you can't fight,

like this city is on fire tonight,

this could really be a good life.."

Is it odd that I'm so happy?

Perhaps its just the start, maybe I'm not worn out yet.

But I should be, yet I don't feel so.

I remember the days I had during my practical, and how different they were, despite the fact that I had more sleep, and lesser working hours, and much lesser workload.

I remember dreading to wake up every morning.

I remember dreading to go to work.

I remember dreading being at work.

While I'm convinced that everything is light and airy because its new, I can't help but to feel that something is different.

I don't know if this is a new perspective that I'm adding to the list of things that define me, or if its the false promise of the shiny new.

Even if it is, it's holding up so far, and I've really never been happier.

What I do know though, is that I'm definitely in way over my head, and paddling further and further away from the shore. Consciously.

"..suddenly I'm in too deep to ever get out,

I gave you my heart and soul to keep,

don't give me your doubts,

I'm in over my head and its scaring me so.."

If this is what being in too deep is, I'm ready to dive head first.

I know its not too late to turn back yet, but I have only eyes for straight ahead.

There's some things I realized that I can't lose.

Now that you've made your bed, you're gonna have to lie in it.

Somehow, even though its a little messier than I'd like, scary because its unpredictable, and so very different and sounds like a mistake, there's really nowhere else I'd rather be right now.

"..and I still can't believe that you came up to me and said,

'I love you'

I love you too.."

Than here in my room, dreaming about you and me.

Love, Joyce.

Day Fourteen

'..I'll forget the world that I knew

but I swear I won't forget you.."

Dear lonely isle,

It came sooner than I expected.

I guess it had to happen. Sooner though, rather than later like I thought it would.

But I guess its normal.

Is it?

Human emotions are messy, unpredictable, and above all, stupid.

The human heart is really quite unfathomable.

Yet we rely on it so much, or at least I do.

It's just a phase.

Sometimes your heart takes some time to catch up with your brain.

Or is it perhaps the other way around?

That your brain is only now receiving signals your heart has been sending out for some time already?

Maybe its the latter...the heart has always been more perceptive than its counterpart in the upper regions.

Which is probably why posts like these only come under the heading of Day Fourteen, rather than Day Three or Four.

But it's just a silent whisper.

Background noise to the screaming static that is my life.

Except that now the static has dissolved into silence, and the silence spreads over your ears like a blanket, muffling out all other sounds.

And the silence is deafening.

But it's all good.

I like it like this.

Its just...a little murmur that I need to block out.

And sometimes when its really quiet you can hear everything.

I think I'm getting better at this.

It may not always be the best policy, but its important to at least be it with yourself.

Love, Joyce.

Day Ten

"..I'm sorry I can't be perfect.."

Dear lonely isle,

You can't please everybody. The best you can do, is to please yourself.

I can't remember where I heard that line before, or where I might have read it.

But I do remember learning that lesson some time ago in Sabah.

Perhaps, I may have remember wrongly.

Or mayhaps I've forgotten it.

I learnt it again tonight.

Maybe it has to do with me being the kind of person I am.

Despite the fact that I am sometimes a bitch, and that I don't really care much about what other people may think, still, deep, deep, down inside, I guess I was, I am and I will always be, a people pleaser.

If there was ever a person built for democracy, it would be me.

I thrive on consensus, and actually tend to make decisions that way.

Besides Joyce, there is also Joyce, whom I rely on for conversation and repartee, and then there's also Joyce, Joyce and Joyce, and we all vote on decisions.

Which probably explains why I'm so fickle-minded when I'm alone, and can be indecisive to a fault. I probably can't decide on something to save my life.

But then again, ever the master of contradiction, I do enjoy dictator-style decision-making under certain circumstances. Usually when I already have an idea in mind, or a particular way I'd like things done, and always, when perfection is required.

I guess most of us are like that in more ways than one.

In spite of everything that I am, and everything that I may seem, I do seem to have been made without the confident self-assurance that some people were born with.

Try as I might, I cannot escape the need for approval.

Being an impulsive person, I tend to act without regard to what others may think, yet I constantly seek approval and support.

And these are the people for whom I cry for, because their approval means more to me than anything, and their support is my reason for existence.

Raison d'etre.

You've never admitted, even to yourself, how much they mean to you, but looking back at your life, you realize that everything you've done, has always been for them.

And that was something even you had failed to notice.

Sometimes, you just need to learn to live for yourself.

And to just be, in anything you do, for yourself.

You can't live your life for someone else. The most you can do, is live it for you.

Whoever they were, they were right. Working life is definitely a new experience.

Already I'm learning something new everyday.

I hate to admit this, but I'm probably a very slow learner.

I'm only beginning to catch up on what others have realized years and years ago.

Still, it's never too late, and it's better late than never.

Love, Joyce.

Day Eight

"..are you desperate to find something more

before your life is over?.."

Dear lonely isle,

Sometimes you feel the dread of the confrontation even before it happens.

Conflict solving, regretfully, isn't one of my strong points.

The weight of the problem hangs on your shoulders, but yet you daren't unload it, for fear that it may cause a dent, or worse yet, a hole in the floor.

And everyone'd have to stand around staring at the hole feeling awkward for a few days while you wait for the repairmen to come and fix it.

But at the same time, you wonder why is it so hard to face.

And sometimes, you find help when you didn't expect it, in the last place you thought of looking.

And you are grateful.

To say that I am worried is probably an understatement.

It's ironic how we were always told to do what we didn't want to, or what we should do, even if it made us unhappy, because it was 'for our own good', and then growing up and learning that you shouldn't do it anymore. As a matter of fact, you should go as far as to do what you want to do, and make yourself happy (within reason an without hurting others, of course).

The inconsistency, or should I say, the breaking of the routine, the normal, the consistent, is driving me up the wall. Even worse because its a state of being, a mindset.

It was always what I should do, rather than what I want to do.

Now, I'm revising that line of thought.

It took a long time to get here.

Now that I am here, I'm left wondering what can I do.

And more importantly, am I making a mistake?

Love, Joyce.

Day Six

"..can you meet me halfway,

right at the borderline,

that's where I'm going to wait, for you.."

Dear lonely isle,

Whenever we needed something, we went out and shopped for it.

What if what you needed was a man?

How does one shop for a man?

Unlike the inanimate, unalive dress, shoes or bag that a woman buys, a man is somewhat different.

For one, before you can bring him home as a purchase you've first got to get him to agree to that particular proposition.

So how does one get a man to say yes to 'I do'?

Like any other merchandise in Malaysia, choosing the wrong man will result in much unpleasantness in the attempt to get your money refunded, which is unlikely to say the least.

That aside, how do you know which man to choose?

Unlike clothes, shoes and bags, again, a man is hardly something you can buy several of to, you know, to change as and when the occasion demands.

The law states that one woman can purchase only one man at any one time.

Assuming I am to be a law-abiding citizen on this, how does one choose the man? (Of course, bear in mind that the man has to be conned into choosing you as well, so self-selling is of vital importance)

Do you buy the first shirt that you see?

So asks my mom all the time.

The shopping rationale behind this is very true, as most shoppers know. Sometimes we purchase something a little too quickly and find out later on that we made a rash choice because good things come to girls who wait.

But then again, sometimes the right choice merely depends on timing.

Something that didn't suit us then, may suit our fancy now.

As our mentality and needs change, so do our choices.

Something which may have been good for us back then, may have become the wrong choice now.

I guess, the same goes about men.

So how did our mothers do it? Finding the right man, the one whom we refer to right now as 'dad', or 'daddy', or 'father', or whatever it is that girls call their fathers these days.

At some point in life we need to stop choosing, and pick one already. And then bring it home and try to live with it.

But as every shopper also knows, despite the first shirt question above, sometimes we do find the first shirt to be the right one. And sometimes, we realize this after we've gone into every other store and seen all the other ones available. Perhaps there really was something about it that caught your eye the first time you saw it. And then, when we've finally decided to go and get it, after a lot of thinking, consideration and heartache (from parting with money), we find that it was already sold to the lady in red (or blue, or black, or green, insert your favourite colour, whatever, it doesn't matter. That lady isn't you.)

And then what do you do?

To say that you should have bought it sooner is rather unfair, as you were just being prudent.

And when it comes to shopping for a man, which you can only marry one at a time, being prudent is the most prudent thing one can do.

But what if you think you know he's the right one?

Sometimes we do get these little...signs, feelings, hunches, intuition, that this is it.

And we can't always be sure if we can trust it.

Then there's also the matter of convincing the dearly beloved other half (the purchase-to-be) to agree to your insane idea of marriage, and then from there, to convince both sets of parents that it isn't complete and utter madness.

It's just one of those things that seem incredibly and totally ridiculous to both yourself and your parents, but is actually rather normal for someone of your age.

It's just one of those things that seem incredibly far off to yourself, when in fact, you know that it should be incredibly, and probably uncomfortably, near, as an outsider looking in.

It's just one of those things.

I saw a bridal fair today.

When the lady at the counter asked if I was going to get married soon, I couldn't help but to answer yes.

Maybe the biological clock is ticking, and I'm finally hearing its cry of alarm.

Or, maybe I am right and this is it.

Am I scaring you yet?

If you plan to run away, let me go with you.

Love, Joyce.

Day Five

I remember what you wore on the first day

you came into my life and I thought hey,

you know, this could be something

'cause everything you do and words you say

you know that it all takes my breath away

and now I'm left with nothing

so maybe it's true

that I can't live without you

and maybe two, is better than one

but there's so much time

to figure out the rest of my life

and you've already got me coming undone

and I'm thinking two, is better than one

I remember every look upon your face

the way you roll your eyes, the way you say

you make it hard for breathing

'cause when I close my eyes and drift away

I think of you and everything's okay

I'm finally now believing

That maybe its true

that i can't live without you

and maybe two, is better than one

there's so much time

to figure out the rest of my life

and you've already got me coming undone

and I'm thinking

I can't live without you

'cause baby two, is better than one.

there's so much time

to figure out the rest of my life

but I figured out with all that's said and done

Two is better than one.

Boys Like Girls feat. Taylor Swift

Two is Better than One

"..the hope we have

is so much to feel good about.."

Dear lonely isle,

Its the quietest its ever been in here.

The silence is calm, soothing.

I could really get used to this.

For once, its not filled with the roar of mumbled thoughts and whispered worries.

For once, it feels really good to be alone.

For once, I am me, and I'm alone inside my head.

Sometimes I wonder how I got from there to here, from then to now.

It used to be the city that never sleeps, now its just a lonely island.

Quiet, and contented.

As I go about my life, through the motions, the routine and the bustle of training, its the same, and yet its different.

Maybe because it feels different on the inside.

Sometimes I get really tired at the end of the day, but no matter how busy it felt, inside I was the tourist on the hammock, reading my favourite book, relaxing by the beach on the lonely island.

There are still little worries and insecurities that nag at me, but they're just quiet murmurs in the vast white emptiness that is now my mind. And right in the middle, is a small patch of blue, a calm spot of sea, with a single island in the middle.

I'd like to believe that this is what meditation feels like.

What a zen state of mind feels like.

What it truly means to look into the Mirror of Erised, and see just your reflection.

I'd like to think that I'm truly happy right now.

And part of it is being able to be me, and just me.

If it were any old me, I'd wish that this could last.

Right now, even if I said it, I don't think I can mean it, because I'm really contented with the moment, and the next, and the one after that, and each one that follows.

Even so, I'm still very much me, and still very much a worrywart more than ever, with not-so-subtle hints of paranoia.

Who else can be perfectly contented, and worry that something might be wrong with them for feeling this way?

Maybe there really is something wrong with me.

Love, Joyce.

Day Two

"..hearts break, hearts mend,

love still hurts.."

Dear lonely isle,

Reality is like a slow, cold wash of dirty water, thrown into your face as you alight from the steps leading from your house of refuge.

So you stay in.

And pray that everything is just you being paranoid, and that the worst is yet to come.

But what you fail to realize is that the worst was already over. And that was the part about acceptance.

Now comes the part of living with consequences.

But the full realization of your loss has yet to hit you. Perhaps in days, weeks, months to come, the ghosts of the dearly departed past would come back to haunt you, but for now, you're just glad that you're not alone.

Sometimes in losing one thing, we gain...something else.

Sometimes we gain more than we deserve.

And the little person in side wonders if there is karma and retribution at the end of this.

Because after everything wrong you've done, you wonder if you did something right.

What if you did?

Oh, but what if you didn't?

Still.

When your gut tells you you're on to something good, do you believe them?

I do.

Breathe. There's so many more days to go.

love, Joyce.

Day One

For those days we felt like a mistake

Those times when love's what you hate

Somehow

We keep marching on

For those nights that I couldn't be there

I've made it harder to know that you know

That somehow

We'll keep moving on

There's so many wars we've fought

There's so many things we're not

But with what we have

I promise you that

We're marching on

We're marching on

For all of the plans we've made

There isn't a flag I'd wave

Don't care where we've been

I'd sink us to swim

We're marching on

We're marching on

For those doubts that swirl all around us

For those lives that tear at the seams

We know

We're not what we've seen

For this dance we move around each other

There ain't no other step

Than one foot

Right in front of the other

Right right right right left

Right right right right left

Right right right right marching on

We'll have the days we break

And we'll have the scars to prove it

We'll have the bomb that we've saved

And we'll have the heart not to lose it

For all the times we've stopped

For all the things I'm not

You put one foot in front of the other

You know that we ain't got no other

We go we go where we go

We're marching on

Marching on.

One Republic

Marching On

Vineyard in My Backyard

Dear lonely isle,

Presently, I am a grape farmer.
It is a job that largely consists of tedious repetitions of duties and strict routines, largely along the lines of waking up at godly hours, procrastinating whenever possible and house chores, done whenever situation permits, which, fortunately does not happen often enough.

Then there is also the title of Garbage of Society to shoulder, and as titles go, with all the responsibilities to go with it. Thankfully, the title is not a cumbersome one, but the responsibilities of being society's Garbage can be daunting at times, requiring one to attempt to sleep till noon every day (weekends are a must, unfortunately) and attend to Facebook games immediately upon waking. Then there is also the matter of spending money and going out whenever possible, an article of faith to be followed to the letter.

However, as with any job, being a grape farmer can be hazardous to one's person. There is the constant ongoing danger of having to battle poor sleep and fats accumulating on one's self due to inactivity. Also, the chore of having to constantly file off the rust settling on one's limbs due to lack of use is getting to be vexing from tedious repetition. Being a grape farmer also requires one to possess a strong stomach to withstand the stench of brains slowly rotting as thought is seldom required throughout a day's work.

But it's all in a day's work for a grape farmer such as myself.

Harvest promises to be fun, I imagine.

love, Joyce.

Run

I'll sing it one last time for you
then we really have to go
you've been the only thing that's right
in all I've done

And I can barely look at you
but every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
away from here

Light up, light up
as if you have a choice
even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you, dear

Louder, louder
and we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak, I understand
why you can't raise your voice to say

To think I might not see those eyes
makes it so hard not to cry
and as we say our long goodbyes
I nearly do

Light up, light up
as if you have a choice
even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you, dear

Louder, louder
and we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak, I understand
why you can't raise your voice to say.

Run
Leona Lewis

GIMME

Dear Person Up There,

I know, deep down inside, you have some small, perhaps very very small, but still a spot in the soft pump-like organ you possess under your ribcage, for me.

I know this because, I am praying fervently that confidence can take the place of certainty.

So....GIMME!

I WANT!

MINEEEEEEEE~

Thanking you in advance.

Amen.

Joyce.

Blind

I was young
but I wasn’t naïve
I was helpless as you turned around to leave
And still I have the pain I had to carry
A past so deep, that even you could not bury if you tried

After all this time
I never thought we’d be here, I never thought we’d be here
When my love for you is blind
But I couldn’t make you see it, I couldn’t make you see it
That I loved you more than you’ll ever know
And part of me died
when I let you go

I would fall asleep
only in hopes of dreaming
That everything would be like it was before
But nights like this it seems are slowly fleeting
They disappear as reality is crashing through the floor

After all this time
I never thought be we’d here, I never thought we’d be here
When my love for you is blind
But I couldn’t make you see it, I couldn’t make you see it
That I loved you more than you’ll ever know
And part of me died
when I let you go

Blind
Lifehouse

Irrational

Dear lonely isle,

Sometimes we need to know when to let go.
This is me, without tear stains on my cheeks, and without the swollen puffy eyes.
This is me, without my mask, and without a smile.

These days, I find the more it hurts the wider I smile, and the louder I laugh.

You take the pain and put it into a box, then you put the box at the corner of your heart.
It numbs the feeling somewhat. Maybe one day when I do this I really won't feel anything anymore.

Then you cry because its the only thing you can do, and because you wished you could do something more.
Then you pull the covers over your head and sleep it off. Because someone said not to worry about things that you couldn't help.

Waking up is like trying to find your teeth in the dark after having them punched out the night before. You stumble for awhile as you try to figure out who you are, what are you doing, and why the hell can't you open your eyes properly.
When you've gotten down questions one and two, you find the answer for number three.
And while you're still in the interim state of not fully understanding anything, something in your subconscious picks up the box of pain in the corner of your heart and hides it somewhere out of sight.

Some days are too important to leave to the spoilt child running the operation tower.

And against all reason and logic, the day goes well. And you appreciate it that the big guy up there still seems to care.

Perhaps you do get time off for good behaviour.
But not today.

Sometimes we need to know when to let go.
But I usually find out too late.
It's not today. Maybe tomorrow.

love, Joyce.

Firestarter

Dear lonely isle,

Sometimes, when we feel really brave, we take out matches and play with fire.
Maybe we feel like we have something to prove, or just call it folly.

Maybe, sometimes just maybe, you have to ask yourself, do you want to get hurt that badly?

Children who play with matches get burned, children who play with stoves burn down the house.
Children who play with fire crackers lose an arm.

So, if we did want to hurt ourselves, why do we stop at matches?
Might as well take out the building while we're at it, and who needs two arms anyway?

Some people like to cut themselves just to watch themselves bleed.
But they are not to be confused with those who slit their wrists and go have a lie-down in the running tub.

So why?

When you've lighted all the matches in your hand, and are trying very carefully, to not burn your fingers, feeling perhaps a bit invincible, you often find you end up burning your skirt.
Which you then try to put out with your hands, and upon failing to do so, jumped into a pool of mud.
And at the end of the day....really, why did you put yourself through all that?

It hurt, didn't it?

Even when you expected it, it still hurts, somehow.
And like the foolish general in a losing war, you throw your remaining troops against the unstoppable tide of the opposing force, thinking it would somehow, when you got to the bottom of it, in a deep hole somewhere, it would matter.

But does it?

A little chicken once thought it was the end of the world.
But the sky never fell.
Possibly, long after it dies and even when its bones become bleached by the ground, the sky still wouldn't have fallen. Yet.

Sometimes, it feels like everything will somehow always be alright.
When in fact, it isn't alright.
Its only alright, because you've accepted what will be, and that...is alright for you.

Someday, when I die, they will write on my tombstone;

Here lies a person who did things just to be proven wrong,
for rest she could not, be satisfied she could not, till she was proven wrong.

Here she lies, for at last, she felt it was not possible that she was mortal,
and stood in front of a moving bus,
just to be proven wrong.

Incidentally, maybe she played with matches, thinking she couldn't get burned.

love, Joyce.

Yellow Shoes

Dear lonely isle,

This is a story about a girl who lived with her dog Toto on a farm in Kansas belonging to her aunt and her uncle. One day, a tornado came and lifted away the farmhouse, with the girl in it, and blew it to a faraway land. Upon arriving in the aforesaid faraway land, the girl realised that she was no longer in Kansas, when she discovered that the flying farmhouse had indeed landed upon a witch. The witch wore yellow shoes, upon which she took up and put them on.

But wait. Dorothy didn't wear yellow shoes, she had ruby slippers.
But wait. This girl was not Dorothy.

So she followed the advice of the good witch, and travelled along the yellow brick road, hoping to reach the fabled emerald city of Oz, at which, she was told, the all-great powerful wizard could send her home. Along the way, she met three girls, each of whom had also an unexpressed desire to call upon the famous wizard, in need of a brain, a heart and courage.

But wait. Dorothy met the scarecrow, the tin man and the cowardly lion on the way to Oz.
But again, this girl was not Dorothy. She was the girl with the yellow shoes.

So why did each of the three girls require something from the wizard? The first wanted to be rich, and needed a brain to think of how that specific position could be achieved. The second wanted to love someone, and for that, she felt she needed a heart. The third just wanted to be happy, and courage would help her to overcome the sad things in life, and put the sad memories behind her. The girl with the yellow shoes, she only wanted to go home.

So they set off together with the emerald city in sight. For what they wanted, there was no journey too far.

But a wicked witch was determined to not see them succeed. She littered their path with despair and sorrow, and forced them to gaze upon greed and suffering. But still, they preservered. After all, everything they wanted awaits in the emerald city. Scorning her efforts they thwarted her schemes, and she melted into a raging pool of boiling tar.

And so thus, they continued their journey.

Finally alas, the yellow brick road had come to and end, and just beyond the last line of bricks, were the shining, smooth, high walls of the emerald city. High and sheer as steep mountains. The last barrier to breach, the last test to pass, the last challenge to overcome.

And so they scaled the walls.

Awaiting their arrival, long before they had reached the walls, was the great wizard of Oz. He lived in the heart of Oz, preserving the city as a heart preserves the body. Surely, they thought, surely someone such as he has the answers to it all.

And indeed he had.

To the first girl, he said, No.
I cannot give you, what you already have. Your wit, your cunning, they are but what will carry you through life, and keep you alive. If you were but to use them more, they will surely bring wealth to your doorstep.
And she went away, realizing that what she needed was not a brain, but confidence. And his words spoke to her soul.

To the second girl, he said, No.
I cannot give you, what you already possess. Your love for your friends, for the people and things around you, they will form the purpose of your being. If you were but to use them more, they will surely bring passion to your life.
And she went away, like the first girl, realizing she erred in her ways, and lacked not a heart, but a will.

To the third girl, he said, No.
I cannot give you, what you could not possibly contain. The seed of power grows within your heart, and with each step you force yourself to take, you have put a smile on your own face. If you were but to try harder, surely you will find happiness had always been there.
And she too, went away, dawn in her heart that she required courage like she required a third foot, because she had had it all along.

To the girl with the yellow shoes, he said, Never.
I cannot send you back, when you have chosen to come. I cannot stray you from your path when you have set out on this journey, like I could not have sent you back to the past, and to times before. There are oft many times we would like to turn back, but alas, this is not within the powers of men. The most we could do, is to move forward, and maybe in time, forget where we have been. But the wisest never forget, indeed they may choose not to, because, while forward is the way to go, sometimes it is necessary to look back. In time, you may find that the way home, is right up ahead, but only if you keep walking. And sometimes, this is true, because you will make decisions to bring you back to where you came from, from whence your path first diverged.

And the girl with the yellow shoes wept. For she knew she could never go back.
And she wept, for a time lost, an age faded, a memory she could never relive.
And still she wept, as she struggles to lift her feet, with the yellow shoes that seemed to carry the weight of the world, for if she chose to move forward, she would leave everything behind.
And it would be the hardest thing she would have to do.

And still, she weeps.

love, Joyce.

Biotechnology Night 2009

Sunday, 22nd March 2009.

Last dinner for our course!
which of course equals to last chance to dress up >.>
Last dinner for our 3rd year biotechnology students.
A night for just us only :)

Then there's also the last chance to participate in group activities.
Such as dancing,
singing,
acting.

Decided to join the traditional dance, which branched out into modern dance as well.
Tried my hand at singing too,
and emceeing for the first time.

Unfortunately, (or maybe fortunately) I didn't get to emcee, the performance schedule was too packed. Didn't have the time to go and further entertain the audience :(

On the night of the dinner.
Us before it started, wearing the outfit for the traditional dance, Sumazau.

Fansus in black :)

See...what did I always say about black? Black makes you look slim..

Receiving guests in the traditional dance costume.

For the modern dance we all wore formal white shirts with dark coloured ties.
But that one happened to quickly, no time to take a group photo.

With (l to r:) Daniel, Ozzy and Butter who were all in the group singing.

With my pretty supervisor, Dr. Ivy :)

My room mate commented that she looks like Barbie.


With Anny, who was also in the modern dance, wearing a cute pink dress for the night :)

With Bella, who choreographed the Sumazau dance,
previous class representative,
and also former Uduk Ngadau (traditional beauty pageant) winner.

Tiing Jen either wants to:
a. kiss me
b. smell me
or
c. show off the hair that Jia Jia set for her.

I'm guessing c.

After the dancing, it was off to the bathroom to change, not into another costume,
but finally into something nice for the night.

Tiing Jen and Jia Jia

And, yours truly with no dress to wear.
And no time to do her hair.

See how self obsessed I am as I post three pictures of myself alone in a row.

Look abit fat there, but ignore, focus on the face.

With the favourite fansu :)

With Jia Jia :)

Jia Jia and Phebe, who's looking cool in my shades cos her eyes were swollen.
Allegic reaction :(

With Butter who refused to smile for my pictures.

No worries, retaliated by not smiling for his camera.



Lai San and Jaclyn, emcee of the night.

Feminine-looking Tiing Jen.

Never thought this day would come T____T


With Yuen, who choreographed the modern dance.
The guy seriously shakes ass.
And does it better than all of the girls in the dance.

The Vice Chancellor of UMS with his beloved students.
(He's their supervisor for their final year project)

We're privilliged enough that our VC is one of our main biotech course lecturers :)

With Dr. Jualang.

Beloved Datuk K. and his wife, Datin Ann.

With the favourite fansu again, camwhore style

Dr. Ivy and her students :)

We're all under her for our final year project.

Confirmed la, my supervisor is the prettiest XD

The GMO family

They acted as mother (Tiing Jen), father (Lau), and son (Yuen) for the play.

With Hidayah.
The first malay girl in my course I met and made friends with during the orientation week.

With Kak Aliya

With Yati.

With Tasha :)

The Sumazau dance group.
Can you spot the three blind mice?

Warning: camwhore shots ahead. If its not your thing, do not proceed further.

Yes I know its a lazy kind of post. But then again I'm a lazy kind of person :P

Had fun that night :)
Think I actually enjoyed it more than MAGRA.
Somehow its a smaller group, a more personal thing.

My kind of thing :)


Love, Joyce.