stupid? or just.... stupid.

alright guys. I'm back. woohoo. 


first thing's first. remember that thing I said on the first couple of posts I made, about not swearing in my posts? yeah that's out of the drain. 


I'm thinking that if I swear all the time in real life, why wouldn't I when sharing one of the most deepest (not that deep) thoughts online? and I'm just assuming you'd want to enjoy the full Adhi experience when reading this shit.


Alright. now what...


As I have said in the last post, I was thinking on making this a food blog. well FUCK THAT SHIT. I am not cooking as much as I thought I would, but here are some of the stuff I have made since:

Yummay. very yummay indeed. You see, what's funny to me is that although I probably am one of the most Asian person I had ever known, I never seem to understand Asian cooking. You start with anything you want. (no joke, anything for example prawns mixed with jungle cats' testicles), shove it in a pan and mix the shit out of it, and you're done. Improvisation is the key and obviously the better the ingredients compliment each other the better. I can't improvise. not one bit. I tried, and my failure was so horribly devastating that I am scared of doing it again, to a certain extent. 

So yeah, I am the type of person that really like to follow others' instructions, a copy cat, if you will. Not that that's a bad thing, but I really do think that the better you are at everything, well, the better you are. So at some point in life I might try to develop my improvisation skills and by then, hopefully, I would be cooking Asian, and not pretending to be some pretentious loser who is trying to deny his heritage. 

On a lighter topic, after spending God knows how long on Youtube, I was wondering if I can make some kind of channel that would bring in more views (with me being the biggest attention seeker and all) and I came up with this formula : 

Success in Youtube = Something original x ? = profit. 

I got that far, so I brainstormed to think of something original, a form of presentation that has never been done on video before, or maybe some skill that I can flaunt to the rest of the world. 

Then, a massive idea came to mind. here is the dialogue that is happening in my mind at that time:

me: "Alright, brain. Get this. Let's do one of those sorts of videos where I just sit here and talk about my life and shit" 

brain talking back: "...you mean a video blog"

me: "holy shit yea that's a sick name"

brain: "you're a fucking idiot. please kindly point a gun in your head and pull the trigger, I simply do not want to live in this world any longer"

me: "alright alright that's been done before, but how about.... instead of having me facing the camera, I would draw some animated guy and let him do the talking in my stead"

somehow my brain just stopped for a while and gave me a couple of minutes to think about what I had just thought of, basically, and I felt so damn stupid and felt like I should start kindergarten all over again. 

Seriously, this dialogue (more or less) actually happened in my head at around 12.00am and thinking back to it I really do wonder how I am going survive in life.

anyway, after thinking back on that idea, I am quite shocked and depressed about my idiocy, so I will just end it here. 

Lighter topic discussed: success. 

Under new management (or renewed interest)

IM BACK! miss me?! well no one ever reads this anyway so who really cares.

RIGHT. 4 months! come to think of it.. hasn't even been that long! what's been happening? let me fill you in:
1) girlfriend
2) new job, same demoralizing-low-paying-weird-smell-wanna-kill-myself atmosphere
3) 150% decrease in social life
4) 10000% decrease in alcohol consumption
5) rekindled love for blogging.

but some things are still the same. I am still a boy. I am still bad at driving. And most importantly.. I am still a struggler. But that's okay since people get joy out of it. It's totally not sad and attention seeking right?.........right??!

Now my main reason for this post is that as the title suggested, I am going to take a different approach to blogging. Reading over my last posts I have been so... formal. so... weird and so.. emo.

So the first thing I'd like to change around here is to make a cheerful happy place that people go to after a long hard day of uni. Instead of the previously disgusting, depressing and lonely equivalent of a 'strip club' (without the strippers - someone give me a better euphemism) it is now a lil' cafe, like that one in Friends.

And to the next point, what comes with cafes? FOOD! yeeeees, I am now focusing on food. I have been taken over by the thousands of blogs that post those nice little edible treats on a platter that make your mouth water, but every time you attempt to make the same dish it ends up in complete disaster and turns out to become inedible weird looking garbage. (well at least that's what happens to my attempts)

I know what you're thinking 'ahhh Adhi is making another one of THOSE blogs'. HOWEVER. what makes me different to those damn masterchef-finger-licking-good-food-cooker-person is that my stuff will actually end up in a disaster too! so you won't feel jelly from not being able to make what I make because to be honest, picking up a pile of discarded rotten food from your pet's plate is pretty much equivalent to my cooking.

So hope you enjoy whatever this blog is turning into, and enjoy watching this blog slowly making it's move to Hell once again!

A little preview of what's coming. JAM DONUTS. without the jam

I dropped one of these bad boys in the process of taking the picture

so don't think any one of these is actually edible.

zombie

To be completely honest, I have never thought of writing up a new post in this blog since my last one I wrote in January.

Well here I am. Coming back from the dead. Feeling like, looking like, smelling like the undead: a zombie.

I caught up with G a couple of days ago and memories just started coming back, and I just had the sudden urge to write up something and share my thoughts.

So what's been happening? People have been asking.

Well, first of all.... I've started on this weird and crazy phenomenon that is so called 'dating'. Up til now I still can't get it off my mind.... I have a girlfriend? It's a weird feeling. Not because it's actually a GIRL that I'm dating, but the actual fact that someone would be insane enough to date ME. 

Everyone I talk to lately would ask, "so I heard the news! Who is she? What is her name? How did you meet? What does she do? What was she thinking picking a weirdo like you?" the never-ending questions of disbelief just keeps attacking me on and on, following me along every corner and how do I react to it? Not quite sure, I'm still in disbelief myself. I just answer with a simple, "she's cool" or something along those lines.

I'm sorta starting to feel like I'm living a different life. A part of me seems to have left and it scares me. I mean, who wouldn't be scared if they had lost something precious to them. You know, things just keep popping in my head, "what if I never get to do the random idiotic things that I do when I'm drunk?' 'what if I start to see the world differently?' or even worse, 'what if my friends don't accept the new me?'

Call me glass half empty, but I'm starting to over think a lot of things. Maybe because of the stress from uni, maybe because I'm just simply unsure of what's been happening and what's going to happen in my life. I always thought I'd be bad with relationships, but I never knew I'd be this bad (haha).

But yeah funny story, how did we meet? Wait for the next couple of posts to find out.

work, work, work.

Trying to earn enough money to compensate for the crashes I'd gotten into, I spent the first three weeks of my summer holidays working. Like a slave. Although it does not involve me being whipped like real slaves should, I was working almost every single day of the week, spending up to 12 hours a day. For three weeks the only thing  I've done is work, and recovering from work. I might be the last person you'd want to have a conversation with right now because ALL that I'd talk about is bread. bread. and more bread.

With that being said, let's have a nice tour around what I've spent doing the past three weeks.

I work in a shopping centre located down the 'west' side of melbourne, and I live on the south-east side of the town, which means getting around from home to work takes longer than it took Christopher Columbus to realize that the earth was not flat. After the crashes that resulted in the $2000 bill hauntingly waiting for me, I was quite traumatized and hesitant to use the car for work. So I had to take the train in the morning. My shift usually starts at 8 in the morning, so I had to wake up at 6, as taking the train to the city, another train to footscray and the tram up to Highpoint takes about an hour and a half. I don't really mind taking the public transport to work, for two reasons:
1) I get to sleep, snore and make every passenger in the carriage to want to rip their ears off
2) Sprinting after two trains and a tram counts as my daily exercise requirement, it seriously happens everyday.

My trips toward the other side of town in early mornings and late afternoons have helped me learn the cultural differences between the two different areas. Many say that the eastern side is more.. "business-like" than the western side and I can see that myth to be true from the time I was coming home from work.

Just like a usual day from work, I took the train up from Footscray towards the city and switch to the Glen Waverley line. I got on the train towards Flinders street and everything seemed normal. Me sitting down looking like a stoned idiot and a weird Indian bloke sitting on the other side of the carriage staring at me the whole trip. Nothing unusual. Until I saw a glimmer of light that seemed to have reflected off a certain object. The light had came from the guitar that the person next to me was playing. I looked at him, took off my earphones and listened to the friendly and casual tones of his 'jazz' style playing. Although some people seemed to be quite annoyed from it, I find it to be a nice change to the usual 'awkward silence' people usually get in trains. On the way back home in the Glen Waverley line, everything was back to normal, until a similar glimmer of light was shone to my face. I looked towards the source of the light and hoped to see another person playing a guitar in the middle of a train ride. Sadly I realized that that light had came from the reflective surface of a briefcase! Businessmen and corporate workers coming home from work filled the train carriage and I start to think, "what a downer"

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Now to the main topic. BREAD!

The three weeks I have spent at Breadtop was quite hectic, especially during Christmas times. The kitchen clearly needed more people as the amount of work piles up, which means that I had to learn how to make more types of bread so that I am more of an 'efficient' and 'useful' worker and not so much as a 'rookie' or 'the son of the boss who comes in just to make other bakers feel insecure".

During my first week, I've always been looking at the work of the head baker, and his superb skills in kneading bread (not a metaphor guys). There is this one particular bread he'd make that really does impresses me. The 'dinner soft roll' seemed like a simple bread to knead, but in order to have that fluffy consistency, certain techniques are required to successfully create it. What astounds me more is the speed that the head baker is moving at while making this bread. One second I was staring at a dough and the next second I see the bread done and ready for baking. Magnificent.

OK so I am going somewhere with this weird description of my admiration towards the head baker. A couple of days before Christmas, the store had received an order for 400 'dinner soft rolls' and with the head baker busy taking care of the daily bread, I was assigned to make the batch. Having no experience with making this type of bread, one thing ran in my mind: "I'm screwed"

The head chef decided to teach me how to make one of this complicated and seemingly impossible bread. And the first thing he said was, "it's pretty simple". I thought, "SIMPLE?! SIMPLE IS MORE LIKE MAKING MIE GORENG STRAIGHT FROM THE PACKET!" He put a piece of dough in his workbench and told me to follow what he's doing.

"Alright so you pull it like this", he pulls the dough to make it longer. "then you do this" and the rest became a blur. I saw something like him folding the dough 200 times over and over into a tiny oval shaped bread that looked good enough to put in an art display. I stared at him and he smiled, "see? simple."

I took a piece of dough and put it in the bench and tried to remember the movements he had made. My mind thought, "ok so he pulled it first, then he just starts moving his arms around. So let's try that." and I did. The head baker stared at me, and said, "why are you dancing." and I thought, "ok so maybe try something different."

He then laughed it off and showed me how to do it again, he did the same steps. "ok. pull the dough right, and do this. one, two, three, four." he counted the steps as if it's some sort of aerobic exercise you do in Zumba, but all I saw is just a blur. He tried to make it slower this time, but ended up going even faster than before and I didn't know what to do. I grabbed a chunk of dough and moved to my own bench, my back facing him and hoping he doesn't see what I was doing.

"it's 4.30, and I finish at 6. ok so do 400 of these in 1 and a half hours and bail." I thought. I stared at the dough. It is sitting on the bench, staring back at me, mocking me. I was having a staring contest with a piece of dough, and losing. I took a deep breath, and hoped for a miracle. "ok so pull." I pulled it. "now what." I tried to think back. I remember him putting the dough from either side together and smacking it with his palm. so I did it. Then he curling it 3 times to make it into an oval shape, and so I did it. He then rolled it with his palm to make the surface of the dough smooth, and I did it. I looked at the dough, it looked like a piece of crap. The shape is not even oval, it's almost rectangular. The surface is nowhere near smooth, and when I pressed it, the dough just feels like it is about to fall apart any second. Looking at the dough, I felt sorry for it. But I had to keep going, 399 to go.

By 6.00 I had finished and gave the head baker 5 boxes of 'adhi's soft dinner rolls' for storage in the freezer. I somehow got the hang of it after the 300'th bread and the last box seemed to be pretty edible. But the first few boxes looked so bad that the person who ordered the bread might commit suicide for having seen something so degrading and horrible.

The head baker took the boxes and stored it in the freezer, here's what I think happened during that time: he went to check the bread I'd made in the cool room and thought that instead of making the bread from the dough, I'd probably taken a crap and put it in the box as the bread looked no worse than described. He looked around for me in the kitchen, ready to scream at me until his lungs explodes, but can't find me anywhere. He asked the other bakers and they told him that I was in a rush and left straight after. Yes. I bailed so that I wont get yelled at. Please don't judge me.

Two days later I returned to work and expected the worst, something the lines of the head baker ripping my intestines out and making me jump rope with it. But before I entered the kitchen, my mum told me that the person who made the order never came and the bread were all thrown away. I looked in the kitchen and saw the head baker working as usual and not worrying about me ruining the whole company's reputation. My thoughts? "F**k yes."

ps: happy new year!

new years resolution: By the end of the year I shall no longer refer to myself as a struggler.

You know you are a bad driver when..

Waking up to the endless beeping of my alarm at 6am in the morning, I rubbed my eyes and said to myself, "gotta go to work". I went downstairs and gobbled down a couple of pieces of bread, and prepared myself coffee for the 1 and a half hour trip to the middle of nowhere. I'm not much of a coffee person, but I'm not much of a morning person either. So I had two choices, whether I arrive to work having coffee breath, or falling asleep whilst driving and not arrive to work at all. Luckily I was smart enough to choose the first. Instant coffee powder, smells weird. 2 teaspoons. Boiling water, half a cup. Sugar, 3 teaspoons. Now add milk. I looked around the fridge for milk and without hesitation poured the whole carton to my portable cup. The 15-day old milk that has turned mushy and rotten slowly filled the cup and before I realized, my coffee was tainted with rotten milk. "that's disgusting". I made myself a new batch and left to work. As I took my first sip, I forgot to completely open the lid and everything spilled on me. I was covered with warm coffee that was mixed with way too much sugar and I noticed a new problem. I'm almost out of fuel. After going to the nearest petrol station I soon remembered something. I am partially lactose intolerant - that my stomach would feel like it would implode any second if I drink dairy too early in the morning. Moving 20km/hr in a freeway due to the heavy morning traffic, clothes sticky and reeked of coffee, and trying to fight against the agonizing pain and anger of my own stupidity, I asked myself the same question over and over again. "why am I doing this?"

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After the 'axima' incident, I had tried to drive a lot more carefully. But lately my recklessness starts to take over my way of driving once again. During a rainy and lightning-y night last Thursday I was on a kebabs run with a couple of friends and obviously, the weather could not be worse for driving. The night started off with a calm and surprisingly dry weather, but as we move closer into the thundering clouds of Mitcham, rain suddenly started pouring as heavy as the ones you'd find in the desert. I had to drive my car to the kebabs trailer to pick up my friends who refused to move out of the shelter into he rain and towards the cars where we were planning to eat our kebabs. They told me that they would wait for their food to be ready and walk to the carpark instead. So I reversed back to park my car. My brain told me to look back and see where I was reversing to, but my 'I'm the best driver around' attitude insisted that I reverse as fast as possible to get the parking spot before someone else takes it. Before I realized what was happening, I heard a bump. Then a car horn. One thing raced through my mind, "not again".

I jumped out of my car, stared at the car that I reversed into, and walked over to the driver. He told me to move into the shelter. As he turned around to the nearest parking spot, I had a glimpse at my car. I saw not just a tiny scratch, but half of my back bumper was out of its place, and a huge dent that I was sure was not there before appeared in front of my eyes. Compared to this, the missing M just looked like a tiny scratch that was hardly noticeable. After exchanging information and confirming insurance details, the wog that I crashed into left off with a frown in his face, the only thing I said to him was, "enjoy your kebabs".

I sat down, drenched from the rain. The night was ruined, but my friends tried to cheer me up. "The second they went out of the car, we were ready to jump these cunts". Good to know that my friends have my back. haha.

Still waiting for the quote of repairing the bloke's car, I went ahead to a dentist appointment yesterday. I was running late and once again, I was out of petrol. 'Trying to find a petrol station wouldn't be too hard', I thought, but as the fuel meter slowly moves closer to the deadly 'E' letter, I was becoming desperate to find one. I was paying too much attention to the side of the road looking for a sign of a station until I finally found one. I was caught behind a slow driver in front of me and I tried to change lanes to overtake him. Once again, my idiotic ego insisted that I only do a quick headcheck. I turned and the inevitable happened. I heard a sound so familiar that I was no longer surprised. The sound of two metals smashing against each other, similar to one that I heard less than a week ago in the rainy tragedy. I looked over, saw a car trying to pull me over to the side of the road, and to be honest, I gave up caring.

An old lady walked out of the car, screaming, "ARE YOU BLIND?!", I thought, "yes I am blind. I can't drive. now just let me drive off to catch my dentist's appointment", but I didn't say anything. I told her the same thing I told the other bloke from 4 days before, "give me a quote to fix your car and I'll pay for it. But I reckon a bit of car polish would fix a minor scratch like that". The lady was shaking, she was struggling to write her details on the paper. I couldn't even feel my heart rate increasing. I didn't give a f**k anymore. I just want to get to the dentist.

So now I am waiting for two bills that I have to pay for. I am expecting something around $500 in total, and if I am lucky, only 2 weeks worth of pay would be lost. I am trying to work 7 days a week to pay for the repairs, and also to regain the amount gone from shopping throughout the year.

Since about 2 weeks ago I thought I was a decent driver, but I was dead wrong. During this week I realized one thing: you know you are a bad driver when you no longer give a sh*t after having a car accident.

work + mum = loss of motivation

Like I said on my last post. I have lost interest in blogging. Before exams I'd always blog about anything I come across.. heck, I posted something new each day! Now, it's just... ehhh. so I'd give it a month max til I finally stop  blogging entirely.

But anyway, yes this incident actually occurred to me about a week ago during work. I'm a baker at my parent's asian bread shop called 'Breadtop'. Quite popular among the Melbournian community. Being a baker is pretty fun, if we don't take into account the salary I've been getting. I get paid $10 an hour whereas most of my other friends average about $20. Which means that I'd have to work twice the amount of time to earn as much as they do. But still, working as a baker is actually interesting stuff. When I told my friend LO about it, he said, "so would you call yourself a 'master baker' yet? You seem like a bloke who'd be pretty good with all that stuff"and yes, the pun was the joke.

OK so back to the story. After exams has finished, I've been coming home really late, I'd usually get home at around 2 in the morning and considering that I'd have to wake up at around 7 the next day for work, it's not really the best decision. So last Monday, my mum called me up at around 11pm while I was at my friends - the C twins - house, and said, "oy there's no one working in the kitchen tomorrow so we'd need you to work the whole day alone tomorrow, come home now and get some rest". That would've probably been the best thing to do at that time, but my brain is no longer able to function properly, now that exams are over. The only thing I had in my mind at that time was, 'have as much fun as possible before summer school starts'. And so I stayed. We watched a movie which lasted two hours. Finished at 2am and I was still thinking, 'fun is priority' and so I stayed longer. Watched another movie and finished at 4am. I was thinking, 'oh crap work starts in about 2 hours..... nah screw it fun is more important' and so I planned to stay a bit longer and go home before my mum wakes up, go to sleep for an hour and off to work. I stayed around and before I knew it, my mum called. It was about 6am.

So after that idiotic all-nighter of movies I was barely able to open my eyes while driving home from the C twins' residence. Got home, went straight upstairs and tried to get some sleep. 30 minutes later my alarm went off indicating that it was time for work. Mum woke me up, screamed for being home so late and literally shoved me in the car. I was definitely too tired to even understand what she was saying or doing. Luckily work is a really long way away from home, and traffic at around that time would be crazy. So I had an extra hour and a half to sleep. Very nice. We finally arrived at around 9 and went straight to work. I only had a cookie for breakfast, and had to wait until my lunch break at 1 for my next meal.

Standing there against the bench, half asleep and dead, I stared into the air while my supervisor was telling me how to operate the fry machine (which is probably the worst machine I should be operating at that state). I shoved some doughnuts into the searing hot oil and obviously it splashed everywhere. ow. This process kept repeating for another hour or so, until I was placed to where I was usually stationed, kneading the dough and decorating them.

At this time I was no longer sleepy, but more third-world hungry. Looked around, and tried to find something to chew on. My mum then came around out of nowhere, shoved some random piece of bread at my face and forced me to eat it. To be honest I was grateful, but maybe offer it other than just slapping it into my face. My mum then put an apron on, and I asked her, "what the hell are you doing." and she said, "working. dipsh*t" ok that didn't really happened, I was able to assume that she's working in the kitchen to help me fill in for 2 other bakers who weren't able to come in.

This meant that I had the chance to actually be my own mother's mentor. Even though it's about something as trivial as baking bread, it still felt good to know that I'm better than her at something. The first batch of bread to be baked was the sausage bun, one which I had plenty of time practicing on so I thought, "I got this. she's gonna struggle and I'll laugh at her". Which sort of happened, except for the laughing at her part, since I was way too tired to even move my jaws to engage in any form of conversation.

The next batch to come is the almond custard bun, one which I had trouble working with, as it involves braiding and other random and annoying techniques. So I let my supervisor teach my mum how to make it instead. At certain times, I tend to get competitive, and this was one of those times. I knew that if my mum beats me at making bread, my self esteem would just crumple. It's on.

Whipping out moves like a masterbaker, I flipped the dough in such a gracious matter that even I was impressed. My first bread was done, and I had to admit, it was one of my best. I looked over at my mother, and saw a half-full tray of half a dozen breads done and ready to be baked. They looked stunning and I was shattered. I did notice one thing wrong with her bread, there was not enough space for the bread to rise. Usually we leave space so that when the bread was proofing, it would be able to grow bigger and therefore be fluffier after being baked. So I told her the flaw of her braiding, and she looked over at my single, horrible looking bread and gave me a stare that said, "who the hell are you to tell me how to make this bread, compared to mine yours look like what you'd find up people's ass". My ego felt like it just shrunk to nothing.

The rest of the day, my mum worked on different types of bread and so there were no more competitions. At that time I just lost all my motivation to work and just wanted to go home and sleep. I looked at the clock. 2.40pm. I continue working. Finished 2 trays of a twin sausage bun and looked over the clock again. 3.00pm. Time felt like it was moving slower than a typical old man driving an ancient car in a 40km/hr zone. After some time, my mum disappeared for about 20 minutes and came back with a bag full of onions. She starts peeling them off and cutting them.

Apparently the thing causing the eye to water from onions is that the chemicals released by the onions caused changes in the pH of the eyes and so tears are released to stabilize the acidity. So naturally I started crying as my mum casually cuts away with content next to me. I looked at the clock again, 4.30pm. half an hour away from the end of my day.

As we start packing up, I wiped the grease and dough marks off the benches, while my eyes still water like a faucet.

My day ended with me working like a slave trying to get the grease stains off the benches while crying like a little baby.

thanks mum, working with you a whole day had made me realize that tolerating your nagging at home is like a walk in the park.

DID YOU MISS ME?!

one word to start this post : FINALLY


I have finally finished my exams, I have finally caught up with friends, I have finally followed through with my plans on learning the guitar, I have finally got enough time to post something new, I have finally started working again, and I have finally successfully spent all the money I had. 


These past 3-4 weeks has been rough, with massive cram sessions and 3 hours of torture for each subject spaced out in 3 weeks, forcing me to finish at least 2 weeks later than everyone else. And during this time period, I've got a feeling that I was over blogging. I had anticipated this moment since I've started and it's finally here. But the fact that I've posted something new and realized that I have more followers sorta made me feel better about continuing. 


ok something unrelated. There were many things I wanted to blog about lately, but I forgot about most of them. Let's talk about my experiences in the exams for today. 


What I think examiners should do:
1) let us bring food - 3 hours. we get hungry, don't want to listen to a symphony of stomach grumbles during the last half an hour or so
2) let us listen to music - music calms me down. most of us listen to music while studying. we can also listen to online streaming of lectures without getting caught too
3) let us bring our own toilet paper - the last thing you want during exam period is AIDS. and we can put cheat notes on toilet paper.
4) just f**k off - self explanatory.


I came in to my bio exam fully prepped. I actually did work during the semester, listening to the lectures over online streaming and taking notes while I was at it. The thing is, I never actually attended a single lecture, and that was probably why I did a lot worse than I expected (haha) so yes, bio was a disappointment. But at least I passed. 


Physics was a LOT tougher. I did not do any work whatsoever during the semester and after doing my first practice exam, I panicked. 6 days to go til my exam and I had just started revising the whole course all over again. I really should've picked the easier physics. I practiced hardcore with every questions I can find : practice papers, tutes, questions from the textbook; and they weren't enough. I didn't know there were TWO compulsory textbooks for the subject until about 2 days before the actual exam. I thought I was screwed for physics. but then I decided to calculate how much I actually needed to pass the subject. Turns out I only needed 25% in the exam to pass. YES! So I told my friend MW about the exciting news on facebook, and my other friend MTu decided to crush all my hopes of doing well in a semester, it went something like this:


me: I ONLY NEED 25% TO PASS!!!!! that's 40 marks in a total of 150 marks in the exam! full marks on 2 questions out of 8! or even better, 5 easy marks from each question!!!!! F******KK im happy now.
MTu: You sure the exams not a hurdle? (you actually need to pass the exam to pass the subject)
me: ...ah sh*t.
MW: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA


hmm I was not very happy that day. and so comes the exam, the day when I was completely demoralized and lost all hopes of doing well in the exam. Reading time, I stared at my exam. "find the pressure of water going through some pipe using some random equation we haven't taught you yet and then find the velocity. From this use the velocity to find the kinetic energy, then the potential energy and the height of the projectile of the water shooting out of the pipe". If you can't find the pressure, you can't do the rest, and you just lost 10 marks in the exam. I was screwed. After the exam, BT said to me "in a distant not too far away in that exam rooom, I saw your face of resignation as you looked at your exam paper...what an 'adhi' moment". So true BT, too true..

Calculus, no comment, don't want to jinx myself.

Chem, definitely a fail. I had the most time to revise for chem, I had done the subject last semester, and it was actually straight forward. Here's where I went wrong :
1) I did not spend the time given to me to study, but instead to sneak out of the house at 2am and go to a friend's house. Twice
2) I did not understand anything taught at chem last semester
3) I attended at most 5 lectures out of 35 during the semester.

so yes, I had this one coming. If I fail again, they'll kick me out. So fingers crossed.

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ok so on a different note, I have been struggling with this 'new' facebook layout. (it's actually pretty old by now but it changed during my blogging hiatus state) This so called 'friendship' keeps screwing with my habits of wall to wall. Usually I'd just go to the other person's wall-to-wall, where all our conversation is compiled in one easy page, but now I have to actually go to the person's wall and write stuff down. This may cause people like me who struggle with change, to well. struggle:

one word: finally.

Struggle Adhi is finally back.