<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122</id><updated>2012-02-02T20:05:22.739+08:00</updated><title type='text'>WHTS UP</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-7621279658696956903</id><published>2012-01-29T16:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T16:00:31.885+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm reverting to a new blog.</title><content type='html'>It's nothing personal, it's just that well - I just don't like typing here anymore looool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So if you're still interested with my writings, my stupid rants, and all the other things that makes my life worthwhile to read(lol), feel free to revert and follow :&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://asyhmstpha.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"&gt;This thingy majingy here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;*click it*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-7621279658696956903?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/7621279658696956903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=7621279658696956903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7621279658696956903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7621279658696956903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/im-reverting-to-new-blog.html' title='I&apos;m reverting to a new blog.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-3279014443678390364</id><published>2012-01-26T22:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T22:07:18.529+08:00</updated><title type='text'>4.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ny4gh4yYxpU/TyFd_u4TDwI/AAAAAAAAA2w/MzQ937l9Ibs/s1600/Edit%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ny4gh4yYxpU/TyFd_u4TDwI/AAAAAAAAA2w/MzQ937l9Ibs/s400/Edit%2521.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;It gets better eventually :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-3279014443678390364?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/3279014443678390364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=3279014443678390364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3279014443678390364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3279014443678390364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/4_26.html' title='4.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ny4gh4yYxpU/TyFd_u4TDwI/AAAAAAAAA2w/MzQ937l9Ibs/s72-c/Edit%2521.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-7914242744265486698</id><published>2012-01-18T18:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T18:37:05.280+08:00</updated><title type='text'>12.</title><content type='html'>Time seems to fly quite fast these days.&lt;br /&gt;Ignore the corny line, let's blog \(^.^)/.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the things that came to my mind last night while I was trying my best to sleep was it had been quite a loooooooooooooooooong time since my family headed off for a vacation. No and I don't mean the typical "three days, two nights" vacation, but the kind which was long, and the kind which you were trapped in some foreign land. That kind of vacation, in fact, that is how I define what a vacation is. The last time the whole family had a proper "family vacation" was in 2010 when we went for some sort of Eurotrip to Paris and basically, covered half of United Kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago, my mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday.&amp;nbsp;I told her I wanted to go to London again.&amp;nbsp;A few days later, I got something else; something that I had been asking for almost 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote class="tr_bq"&gt;But do you know that feeling?&lt;br /&gt;That tiny bit of disappointment?&lt;br /&gt;I felt &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;/blockquote&gt;I'm starting to sound like some ungrateful child but I can't help but feel this feeling. I know my parents have worked hard to provide everything they have provided for me, but still, yet again. I can't help but feel this feeling. It's nothing personal, it's just that after one year of being stuck with papers, books, pencils, and exam papers; not to forget the amount of crap I had to deal with - all I wanted was a long vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm not going to get it due to the fact that just one semester of my college fees sums up as equal as three two-way tickets to London. Not to forget the fact that I'm starting college in 12 days. Oh and besides the fact that college semester breaks aren't going to be that long anyway. Can't help but have to swallow that gulping fact. Bleeeeeeeeergh, as cliche as it sounds, I am truly, in need, of a break from my own country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's life, you can't always get what you want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-7914242744265486698?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/7914242744265486698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=7914242744265486698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7914242744265486698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7914242744265486698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/12.html' title='12.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-4054978250164877823</id><published>2012-01-14T15:55:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-14T15:56:34.085+08:00</updated><title type='text'>16.</title><content type='html'>Believe me, at first, I hesitated to go.&amp;nbsp;I would've regretted my decision if I did. Gave Acap tons of excuses. "Takde duit ah weh", "Aku kerja kot", "Malas". Hahaha, in the end, my cousin persuaded me to go. Thanks to that, or else I would have missed out on one hell of an awesome concert. Mark, on vocals was amazing but the instrumentals were what made me scream like crazy. They were just awesome live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/387449_133112863472600_100003216618015_154316_230870451_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/387449_133112863472600_100003216618015_154316_230870451_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;I captured this during Miss You I think. Miss You is my favourite :')&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Went to Foster The People's concert at Hall 4, Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre yesterday. It was jammed packed. Minus the fact that we got conned and lied to, the part when most of us rammed the barricade to the zone we were supposed to be at, and me and Acap actually fell and the three of us lost each other for awhile. United again, partied like never before. It was the icing to start of a new year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The concert actually ended quite early, so we headed off to Dome for a late-night supper. Fruit salad and lemon teas. Plus random conversations about life and magazine flipping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/398463_133049280145625_100003216618015_154188_129571205_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/398463_133049280145625_100003216618015_154188_129571205_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;From the left; Acap, Ain &amp;amp; Me \(^.^)/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;While waiting for Acap's dad to pick us up, we decided to hang out in front of KLCC and just randomly talk more and take pictures. I love city lights during the night and I love how the weather seemed to be somewhat cold last night. It was a good night weather to just hang out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/387436_133133446803875_100003216618015_154343_885543765_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/387436_133133446803875_100003216618015_154343_885543765_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;We've never been classmates, though she's one of my close primary school mates.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/382684_133133186803901_100003216618015_154341_810754595_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/382684_133133186803901_100003216618015_154341_810754595_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;They both got "alienated lights" hah!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;I reached home around 12.20 A.M. and stupid fever had to strike again. So basically I spent the night cuddling with a blanket with an aching back due to the amount of jumping and dancing. Overall, I think it was one of the best nights to date in 2012. The crowd, the company, even the fruit salad. Everything was superbly satisfying.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-4054978250164877823?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/4054978250164877823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=4054978250164877823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/4054978250164877823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/4054978250164877823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/16.html' title='16.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-8345732771475663143</id><published>2012-01-13T11:01:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-13T11:01:54.999+08:00</updated><title type='text'>17.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uQisbrja8LU" width="480"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;It's Friday the 13th. I don't believe in crappy superstitions.&amp;nbsp;But I guess a bit of it's bad luck got on me. Since I woke up with a mild fever on the day of one one of my favourite band's concert. Hot weather seemed cold. Uneven balanced walking. Zzzzzz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Oh well, fever or not, I'm still going.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-8345732771475663143?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/8345732771475663143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=8345732771475663143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/8345732771475663143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/8345732771475663143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/17.html' title='17.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/uQisbrja8LU/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-7974711449451072389</id><published>2012-01-12T00:23:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T00:23:35.455+08:00</updated><title type='text'>19.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I don't open up easily, and when I do it's usually at times when I'm on the verge of breaking down. I don't mingle well with people, but when I do, I expect you to stay. I don't go around telling others my personal private problems just because I don't want my problems to be a burden to others. But when I do open up to you and tell you how my life is, and what's going on, you must be one heck of an important person to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;amp; believe me. You do not have a single clue of what is going on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;\(^.^)/&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-7974711449451072389?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/7974711449451072389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=7974711449451072389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7974711449451072389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7974711449451072389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/19.html' title='19.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-3541969599936851272</id><published>2012-01-10T23:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T00:15:15.485+08:00</updated><title type='text'>20.</title><content type='html'>I'm starting this whole project.&amp;nbsp;Recording my last 20 days of After-SPM holidays. Well at least I have something to blog about &amp;amp; thanks to a bit of morning outing inspiration, I've finally recovered from writer's block! So starting from today, basically was forced to wake up early. Being a good friend I am *ahem*, decided to follow Amir off for his "preparatory test" at British Council. I thought of following so I would at least get to know more about the test I was thinking of taking and a bit of inspiration was needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/381873_130969183686968_100003216618015_147205_11920198_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/381873_130969183686968_100003216618015_147205_11920198_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Petronas Twin Towers, so preeeeettty \(*.*)/&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;We were waiting for British Council to open, so we decided to hang out at the courtyard to waste time. While Meng was busy with his phone, a lifeless me tried to entertain myself with Angry Birds. Mind you, I'm still new to "touch-screen" technology. I think I looked like a cuckoo-bird laughing every time the bird thingy flew further than the target which were the pigs. 30 minutes of patience also resulted to pictures of our shoes. Hahahahahahaha.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://distilleryimage3.instagram.com/1cb3b7483b7b11e1a87612313804ec91_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://distilleryimage3.instagram.com/1cb3b7483b7b11e1a87612313804ec91_7.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;This is me.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://distilleryimage6.instagram.com/1eec6c943b7b11e19896123138142014_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://distilleryimage6.instagram.com/1eec6c943b7b11e19896123138142014_7.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;amp; this is Meng.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;My evening was filled with searching for my sister's birthday present as it was her 23rd birthday today. Decided to buy us matching purses but with different patterns. Took a train to MidValley to find myself walking alone while searching for pretty things to buy. I guess I got tired and decided to find a pit-stop. Decided that a nail parlour was the perfect pamper treatment I needed. So, I got myself a french manicure!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://distilleryimage1.instagram.com/18cf4ab63b9911e180c9123138016265_7.jpg" imageanchor="1"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://distilleryimage1.instagram.com/18cf4ab63b9911e180c9123138016265_7.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The joy of newly manicured nails. Oh I love ~&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Had some alone time at Starbucks while waiting for my family members to arrive. Had dinner at Alexis, Gardens to celebrate my sister's birthday. Believe me, my tummy was happy to be filled with a good three-course meal.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://distilleryimage8.instagram.com/4f3d5f9e3b9811e1a87612313804ec91_7.jpg" imageanchor="1"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://distilleryimage8.instagram.com/4f3d5f9e3b9811e1a87612313804ec91_7.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;I would highly recommend the salad, one of my favourite on the menu.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://distilleryimage4.instagram.com/4ec3f6183b9811e180c9123138016265_7.jpg" imageanchor="1"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://distilleryimage4.instagram.com/4ec3f6183b9811e180c9123138016265_7.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The sauce is just - pure awesomeness.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://distilleryimage11.instagram.com/95d798563b9911e180c9123138016265_7.jpg" imageanchor="1"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://distilleryimage11.instagram.com/95d798563b9911e180c9123138016265_7.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #a64d79;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;A perfect way to end the meal \(^.^)/&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Now I'm home with a stuffed tummy. I hope I can keep track with this thingy until T-minus 0 days. I don't want to be "planting grapes" and making a fuss about it. I can't wait to start college though I know I'll miss my friends though I'm not quite sure about the community I'm currently surrounded in. Hopefully this "project" of mine will be filled with just quality time with family &amp;amp; friends so I can start off college life without any worries. Till tomorrow, good bye!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-3541969599936851272?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/3541969599936851272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=3541969599936851272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3541969599936851272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3541969599936851272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/t-minus-20-days.html' title='20.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-3273657852365421702</id><published>2012-01-07T01:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T01:12:39.098+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eighteen; Still Young.</title><content type='html'>Based on the title; I turned eighteen!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; the first thing which made me feel a teeny bit old was Facebook telling me, since I'm not a "minor" anymore, I was allowed to change certain privacy settings. All is well I guess, I'm still alive and breathing. Plus, that I'm entering college in less than a month! It's exhilarating to know I'm so close to studying and stocking up my brain again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quit my job today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess a heartfelt moment with Sam the other day got me to realize. I wouldn't really be spending that much time at home as soon as classes start. Even though I'll be commuting from college and home every single day. Though like a close friend of mine said, I'll be running a pretty tight schedule. Plus the fact that I have a year to achieve one of my biggest goals. Yikes. Enough about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, let's see how I'm about to occupy myself in 23 more days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-3273657852365421702?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/3273657852365421702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=3273657852365421702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3273657852365421702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3273657852365421702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/eighteen-still-young.html' title='Eighteen; Still Young.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-932877864381945068</id><published>2012-01-04T09:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T09:19:09.039+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions.</title><content type='html'>I know I'm a bit too late, since it's already the 4th of January.&amp;nbsp;But since, today is the last day I'm seventeen, I thought my whole "fresh new start" would start tomorrow. As due to the fact that I'll enter the realm of being eighteen tomorrow. Well, it's less than a day anyway. Since it's already morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First and foremost;&lt;br /&gt;#1. My relationship with Allah S.W.T.&lt;br /&gt;That means, to be make myself closer to Him. At the end of the day, He will be the one who will decide every single fate of mine. He offers the best plans for me. So it wouldn't waste my time to make myself closer to Him and devote myself more to Him. After all, I'm thankful and blessed for every single thing Allah S.W.T. has "pathed" for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2. My family.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be more close to my family. Be more dependable towards them instead of friends. Certain teenagers, are more peer influenced rather than family influenced. This, is one of the causes of why you see "Wild Childs" these days. Once you lose family dependability, you're lost. No doubt. After all, besides Allah S.W.T, family is the other connection I cannot afford to lose and Alhamdulillah, so far, my connection with my family members have never been in a better state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3. My studies.&lt;br /&gt;I have a year to show my capability. I have a shot to achieve one of my highest goals. This will be my upmost top priority. I've complained before about how I loathed Math and Science. Now I have a shot in pursuing my dreams in something I have had interest in since I was a little kid. Therefore, I must give this my 100% of my attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4. My friends.&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure, since I'll be entering university soon, I wouldn't really have time to hang out like most of my friends whom shall be starting university a lot later than me. I hope I wouldn't cut loose any connections. Especially my close friends who have been with me through thick and thin. I love them to bits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5. Stop spending on stupid things.&lt;br /&gt;I should do a budget list or something. Not to exceed a certain amount. I tend to splurge on nonsense. From clothes to food. Something has got to be done with that issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#6. A much deserved vacation.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still persuading my luck with my dad on this one. See, when my parents asked me what I wanted for my 18th birthday, I told them I wanted to go to London again. I love London. The weather, the whole ambience and vibe of London. A dream come true. Though reality struck when I thought back on how much they were spending on my tuition fees for university. But a girl can't help but dream. I spent one year studying my ass off and patiently waiting for a long holiday. I deserve it, even if I have to fork out my own money. I must.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#7. See and EPL game live.&lt;br /&gt;This has been in my list for years, tsk tsk. Poor me. The closest I've been to were stadium shops. I've never practically entered and felt the whole EPL vibe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#8. Have a positive aspect towards everything.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a negative person therefore since I have to achieve a lot this year, I need happiness and sparkles. I need glitter and rain. I need positiveness. I can achieve therefore I shall achieve. Therefore... I shall be awesome just the way I was meant to awesome :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-932877864381945068?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/932877864381945068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=932877864381945068' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/932877864381945068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/932877864381945068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2012/01/resolutions.html' title='Resolutions.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-7859939676337101348</id><published>2011-12-31T00:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T00:55:28.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bye 2011, Stay Dead.</title><content type='html'>I hate 2011.&amp;nbsp;So I don't think I would even want to describe how 2011 was.&amp;nbsp;During a recent train ride with Elli, I told her how I thought I chose the wrong friends during 2011. She replied; "I take them as life lessons". That is exactly how I will look at them. As life lessons. People say it's just a phase. You have no idea how I'm glad to get that phase over with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beginning of 2011 sucked.&lt;br /&gt;The middle of 2011 sucked even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only time I enjoyed my 2011 was after SPM. Cutting loose all the connections from people whom practically made my life a mess rather than making it better. Believe me, it's my fault for letting people into my life so easily. Rather than putting up a strong stand, I let them walk over me. If you gave me a choice to relive 2011, the only moment was during my preparations for SPM. Cause I know, for sure, I could've done better and I could've made my parents expectations of what I know I'm capable of true. Instead? I let people walk over me as if I'm some dirty grain city pathway. Spit by society, caring the thought of others instead of my own happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But guess what, that's never going to happen anymore.&amp;nbsp;So I'm laying you down in an imaginary coffin.&amp;nbsp;May you rest in peace with black roses and sharp thorns&amp;nbsp;&amp;amp; I know Allah S.W.T made my life just the way He wanted it to be. I'm pretty sure He has better plans for me in 2012 as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye 2011, stay dead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-7859939676337101348?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/7859939676337101348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=7859939676337101348' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7859939676337101348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7859939676337101348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/12/bye-2011-stay-dead.html' title='Bye 2011, Stay Dead.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-5042267589705424334</id><published>2011-12-14T18:16:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T19:28:05.089+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waste.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;As some of you might know, I've recently deleted my Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr account. Later, I've made up new accounts which I have then made private, except for my Tumblr because nothing ever goes on there anyway. I've added most of my school friends on my "new" social networks and many have them have asked me why I did a new account. It took me a long time to decide on doing that. Especially since I've been caught up with certain things lately. SPM, and before SPM, preparing for SPM. Finally, a few days after my exams were over, I deactivated everything and started afresh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;A certain friend of mine called it as "a fresh new start". I would think so too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;You see, 2011 wasn't really an unforgettable year for me. As far as I can think about it, if I were able to delete memories in my mind, I'd immediately gather most of 2011 in a folder and permanently move them into Trash. Empty it. Therefore, I wouldn't be able to think about 2011 anymore. I wouldn't be able to think of certain regrets. Certain emotions I felt. I would call myself as a walking zombie in 2011. I didn't really achieve anything. I was more to being an individual. Trapping myself in my room, occupying myself with just my phone or doodling and writing things in certain books.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I've gained new friends, I've lost certain friends. I've learnt the meaning of honesty and I've watched people play with my so-called "honesty". People have said many things about me. I've been accused of saying certain things I didn't do. I've heard people whispering behind my back. I've been used as a friend for only benefits. And to think I spent almost a year wasting my time "entertaining" mostly these people. It's sadistic. I guess what most of my older peers said was right; you know who your true friends are as soon as you finish high school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I'm not saying I'm one angelic saint. Believe me, throughout seventeen years of my life, I've done bad things as well. At least at certain matters, I know my limits and I know where to put my foot down. Instead of being some sick puppy like I once was, taking every single shit people say about me to heart and injuring my own self-esteem, why should I even care anymore? It's certain some people are just going to stab you in the back and wait for the moment you fall down, but seriously? When you're looking back on who to pinpoint and blame, mirror yourself. It's your fault for making the person take control of yourself. Thus, why should I keep these people in my life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;I'm sick of high-school drama. I'm sick of "friends" whom are just there for enjoyment. I practically loathe people who use others just for the sake of their own pleasure and self-satisfaction and seriously. I'm not that pathetic to let any of these people to take over my life and make my life a living hell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;So &lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"&gt;fuck all of you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt; who have practically tried to ruin my life with your lies, your so-called "comfort", for trying to make me look as if I'm the #1 pathetic human being in the world. See, I don't live on planet Earth to please anyone, except my parents. And if you do have an issue with me trying to grow up, then I suggest you get a mirror and think back, what you mean to me. Because honestly, people who live just to hate others and ruin them for no valid reason, are just examples of failures unsatisfied with their own lives. Take a reality check as well, because it's easily said and seen - you mean nothing to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;# Honestly. Making a new Facebook and Twitter account was one of the best decisions I have ever made in 2011. Other than the fact that I'm finally going to pursue my dream to become a journalist that is ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-5042267589705424334?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/5042267589705424334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=5042267589705424334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/5042267589705424334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/5042267589705424334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/12/waste.html' title='Waste.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-3762840920995053795</id><published>2011-12-11T17:03:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T17:03:40.040+08:00</updated><title type='text'>So I'm Done With School.</title><content type='html'>Alhamdulillah, I've completed my Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia at 10.30 A.M. on the 6th of December 2011. I'm officially no longer a school kid. No more white and blue uniforms, sleeping during assemblies, running around the school hall just because passing time walking was more interesting than studying. Believe it or not, I'm going to miss the school environment. But like the clouds, life moves on as well. So I guess, alhamdulillah. I'm on the right path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For starters, I've already settled my education path. Alhamdulillah again for being blessed with parents whom understand what I want to do in the future. I've already made a promise to them and to myself mostly to work hard and repay all that they've done for me. I should have been able to do that during my examinations, though due to lack of interest, I've failed to make them as proud as I wanted them to be. This time around, I'm all ready and set to study what I have full interest in and insyaAllah, I'll succeed. I'm not really confident to start yet. I'm still a bit nervous. But sooner or later everyone has to go through that phase right? So I guess, it's better now than well -- never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some things in my "After SPM to-do list" that I have accomplished. For starters, I had a wonderful time with my girl, Mira Dzu and Zahid right after exams. Watched Ombak Rindu and ate a lot of food. Most of my money was just splurged to that. I had dinner with and an old friend on the same day. It was nice to just sit down and talk about life, though I'm pretty much sure both of us are going to put the past behind but honestly for me, its still a matter of time. I had loads of fun with Bidin, Nazim and Zaim as well. Though it was a bit tiring accompanying Bidin to find his things, though I had fun giving my opinions and searching for clothes. Mother-daughter time was well spent as well. Went to various universities and Alhamdulillah, I've made my mind up for that as well. To top off my week, my Sunday was well spent with brunch with Elli and a short window-shopping trip to Mines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's good, for starters. I've put all the high-school drama to stay in high-school and I'm just ready for a new start. Keeping myself occupied and enjoying more of "me" time. Honestly speaking, I've never felt better this year. Cause everything somehow seems to get back in place. I guess Allah SWT finally did grant my prayers :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-3762840920995053795?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/3762840920995053795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=3762840920995053795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3762840920995053795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3762840920995053795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/12/so-im-done-with-school.html' title='So I&apos;m Done With School.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-2069475369239479817</id><published>2011-11-27T23:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T23:57:08.798+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Runaway Like You Always Do.</title><content type='html'>First and foremost, I'm not going to talk about how SPM is/was whatever. It's up to Allah S.W.T. If my fate is to get good results, I shall get 'em even though with my lack of responsibility, I think I don't deserve them. Enough to gain a spot in a university and pursue anything equivalent to world related then, I shall be content with anything that is fated to bump in my way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So whts up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing much. Despite the fact that I've been going through a whirlwind of emotions for the past few months. I'd bold that though blogging through mobile web isn't satisfying enough at times. Though, I'd like to thank various best buddies whom though I lack time to meet, well both of us lack time and despite the distance as well, plus the technology of Blackberry Messenger, they've been pretty much my shoulder to cry on. I promise I will devote my time and awesomeness to you, both after SPM whereby we shall be able to repair the lack of time and have wonderful awesome time together without having to think of "weh besok paper apa ah?" or "kejut aku pukul 4 pagi tau, nak study physics". Mwahs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that also being said, I am not ready for anyone to enter my life, as well as "devote" my time to anyone in particular. When I feel uncomfortable, I tend to distance myself from people. That is how I feel and though sometimes, I tend to leave without any explainations, that is how I like to do things. Friends should stay as just friends. There are limits and especially if I've just known you, its best to be that way. I'm not stating this to anyone particular (or maybe those in particular) but its just the way I do things and if you were a "friend" or whatever you want to assume me in your head, you'd respect that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just tired of hoping and expecting and too much hurt and pain from previous experiences that, yes. I've decided to stay away from all that and its my fault I know, but if they time heals everything then give me time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K, good bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-2069475369239479817?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/2069475369239479817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=2069475369239479817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/2069475369239479817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/2069475369239479817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/11/runaway-like-you-always-do.html' title='Runaway Like You Always Do.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-7856677966994656612</id><published>2011-11-16T17:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T15:31:26.589+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need To Sit Down With My Ego.</title><content type='html'>I'm done with 3 papers already! Bahasa Melayu, English and Sejarah books can say good bye to my beautiful desk. I'm passing them down to Nadiah and Najwa cause I just know who else could put them to good use :/ hopefully, you two ; please take good care of my books okay! Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well how's exams?&lt;br /&gt;Tiring. Enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Sleep deprived. The ability of me waking up at 3.30 in the morning amazes me including the ability of me actually being able to survive with only 3 hours of sleep. Yikes. As much as I like to sleep late, this "lack of sleep" issue must be settled soon, as in perhaps in another 3 weeks? It could've been 2 if we didn't have that gap and the amount of unnecessary holidays we have in this country. I want this to be over with fast, tsk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of my friends have been asking me what I want to do after exams. Basically, I've already set my mind up to work. I just can't vision myself staying at home and going online all day when I could enjoy myself while making cash. I've decided to work at a book store hopefully somewhere in the city so I can just enjoy the working adrenaline rush while I'm at it. Feel how the rat race is. Thanks to various chick flicks, a book store might just be a place for me to occupy and distract myself until I get this heart/mind issue settled with. The further the workplace is located, I guess the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides plans to enroll myself in make-up classes *cause I suck at 'em*, settling my driver's license *which will insyaAllah take only a day* and basically the gym so I can make more use to this stick figure of mine; I'm all free I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need to get away from Bangi, at least until I settle some stuff. Though most of my friends have warned me to not pull off an "invisibility cloak" towards them in the very, very near future, I think it's best if I do so. As much as I'm thankful for being able to live 2011 -- well basically it's going to end soon anyway, I hate 2011. I hate everything about 2011. Being a person who tends to plan things, I've never, ever imagined my year to suck this bad. From hurt, to broken friendships to just&amp;nbsp;immensity of just trying not to give a f*ck. Plus this tension of major exams and pressure of "where I'm going to lead off to next year".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my friends have gone tired with me keeping on complaining about "when I'm going to be happy" when I don't put the slightest effort towards being "happy" and I don't even know what this "happy" feels like any more and I'm just tired of watching my best-friend sigh and having to slap me on my face with the harshest things when I'm going to go back home and just stare at the blank wall and think about the past again. I'm too afraid to even talk about the past to them again just cause I know I'll disappoint them and with this stupid insecure and "keeping every single sh*t to myself" feeling that I have. I'm just going to hurt myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that the only constant thing is this world is change, yet sometimes ; don't you wish life was just a tape recorder so you can rewind to the past? Make it all better again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, for sure, would enjoy the the gratitude and&amp;nbsp;opportunity of just repeating 2011 and repairing everything again -- for the sake of my own happiness. As selfish as it sounds, I would be the first person raising her hand up as a lab rat if some scientist came up with a time warp or black hole thing that could lead me back to live 2011 again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admit it, I was nothing but the worst in everything this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though as constant as change is to this world, some mistakes were made to be learned and some mistakes would lead you off to better&amp;nbsp;opportunities&amp;nbsp;and as much as I enjoy typing fake motivational speeches here, I think it's about time for me to eat up my own medicine and swallow the truth. Instead of giving fake advices to my friends telling them not to lie about their feelings, I'm actually doing the same by acting as if I'm okay. No, everything's not going to be the way it is again. No, you can't change anything ; and no. He's not coming back to your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seriously have issues. Oh bummer that Saturday's song is starting to resemble me now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-7856677966994656612?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/7856677966994656612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=7856677966994656612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7856677966994656612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7856677966994656612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-need-to-sit-down-with-my-ego.html' title='I Need To Sit Down With My Ego.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-5406671615092324560</id><published>2011-11-09T20:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T20:05:40.427+08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's About Time.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm sitting for Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia next week on Monday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Wish me luck xx.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As much as I'd like to say I'd be in hiatus,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I'm pretty much sure I'll come here to at least describe how I'd be feeling for the next following three weeks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Till then, pray that the papers will be easy on me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&amp;amp; do pray for me to succeed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Good luck everyone, may Allah S.W.T. be by your side all the way through.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-5406671615092324560?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/5406671615092324560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=5406671615092324560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/5406671615092324560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/5406671615092324560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/11/its-about-time.html' title='It&apos;s About Time.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-5474692354291297902</id><published>2011-10-27T20:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-27T21:10:50.920+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Tired.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/16736171/tumblr_ltmyrbiCgi1qep6eto1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="263" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/16736171/tumblr_ltmyrbiCgi1qep6eto1_500_large.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have 17 more days till SPM.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not prepared.&lt;br /&gt;Nor am I in the mood to be prepared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I spend most of my time at the library these days. Skipping school and just sitting there, revising. Made me realize, I basically wasted a year of my life. It's funny how sometimes, I try my best to understand certain things. But it's just fact ; I just can't understand them. Simple as that. I find billions of excuses and seek ways to overcome these problems. Yet. In the end. I just don't understand. Every time I blame interest, motivation comes knocking on the door saying "If you try hard, you can do it". Push yourself to the limit. But you just can't. It's purely demotivating though, it's fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is like that you know. Complicated.&lt;br /&gt;Blergh. Don't get me started with the whole "life" pep-talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sleep deprived, yet sleep isn't my number one happiness these days. I'm hungry yet my tummy seems to neglect three meals a day. Social life seems to be such a bore. These black and white ink I mostly see through out my day are pulling away the fun in life. Patience. 17 days + a month and I'll be okay. Hummm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; don't bother asking why a picture of flowers seems to be in the post even though it has nothing to do with flowers at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-5474692354291297902?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/5474692354291297902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=5474692354291297902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/5474692354291297902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/5474692354291297902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/10/im-tired.html' title='I&apos;m Tired.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-3040653263877054957</id><published>2011-10-14T21:01:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-14T21:03:27.158+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Appreciate.</title><content type='html'>Honestly ;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt; &lt;b&gt;I don't know how to appreciate people&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suck at appreciating. Not people. But things as well.&amp;nbsp;But past experiences have made me learn and well Alhamdulillah, people whom surround me have said I've changed for the better. Well at least the "&lt;i&gt;appreciating&lt;/i&gt;" part of life I guess. I try to make it up to those whom have done good things to me. Whether by awarding them something, or just being there through thick and thin. Maybe it's not other's way of appreciating people, but it's mine. Once you get a slap on the face and it hits you hard, you accept it as a life lesson. Therefore to avoid myself from getting "hit" again, I've taken a step towards learning how to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, my phone decided to explode awhile back. Yes, when I mean explode, it did explode with a 'pop' sound. The phone got all hot until I couldn't turn it on again. I kept everything there, old text messages, certain pictures which were saved in the phone memory and even some ramblings of my own. When I look back, I've never really appreciated the phone, or otherwise known as Bob. Bob was my first Blackberry. I got it during 2009 when my dad decided that he hated the keypad so he gave me Bob instead of his other phone. So by the year 2011, Bob was always by my side. Connecting me to people. His service was most needed around March when I was in some "phase". I liked to throw Bob around. Whenever I used to fight with my ex, I'd throw Bob to the wall or bang Bob on the wall. I remember when I was going through a bad break-up, I hid Bob under a pile of books to avoid myself from texting or calling my ex. I sound psychotic, I know. But when Bob "exploded", I had to spend a day not connected to the world. I was like a zombie. Moaning and complaining on how I needed a phone. When Bob decided to "die", that was the time I started to appreciate him and yes -- regret for not taking good care of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, I got Marie. Marie is my new Blackberry and I treat Marie as if she was the queen of phones. It's been a few months, and ever since, I have never thrown Marie on the wall when I fight with anyone, I have never thumped Marie on the wall whenever I felt down or lonely, nor has Marie fell to the floor. Well maybe once, thanks to my careless sister. But since it's not an act I committed, I guess, that doesn't count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same thing applies to humans as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, a person whom I used to care so much about used to be there for me through thick and thin. This person used to be my other half, listening to whatever crap I wanted to crap about. This person used to be my walking diary, knowing every single secret I had. Knowing every single thing about me. From my favourite food up until what time I'd usually wake up. This person was the one who encouraged me to be where I am now. This person told me to never give up on my aspirations, my ambitions, my dreams. For almost a year, this person played a very crutial role in my life. Somehow, thanks to me, not appreciating this person, this person left my life and it affected me deeply. I remember one of the lines this person said. "You've never appreciated me". It hit me like a punch in the face. The hardest metaphorical punch I've ever experienced ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the better, since then, I've slowly tried to appreciate people and show my appreciation towards them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday, I was reading my Timeline on Twitter when I've read a certain Trending Topic called #ARealBoyfriend. There were some girls, with boyfriends saying how a real boyfriend should be. Until I found another tweet one of my good friend tweeted ;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;"&gt;#ARealBoyfriend should be just the way he is. You love him for who he is. If he wasn't that way, why love him in the first place? Appreciate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;That might be a "too much to mention" tweet, yet, it was the most rational tweet based on that topic that I read. We tend to complain, yet we don't see what we should be thankful right in front of our eyes. For example, all you girls with boys to love. Instead of wishing or in this case "tweeting" on what he should be like, how about you open your eyes and appreciate them for who they really are? If they can appreciate you the way you are, then why can't you do the same thing? If you don't love them and appreciate them for who they are, I advise you to just leave them and save them for someone who deserves them. I'm pretty sure there are other girls just preying and waiting for you boyfriend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;If you blame "love" for not being the cause of you leaving, ask yourselves. If it is "love" why can't you "love" him for who he is? To me, that's true love and that's the basic foundation of a relationship. If you can't do that, then I'm sorry, I don't think that's love. That's basically just wasting your time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Even though I'm using girls as the bad ones in this example, the whole situation applies to boys as well. Think about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The situation applies to family and friends as well. Appreciate our parents, cause I'm pretty sure there are a lot of orphans out there needing the love of a parent. They may not have time for us. Working from 9 in the morning till 11 at night, yet think about it. They're working hard for our own future. For us to have a solid foundation, for us to pursue our education. I'm pretty sure, they would rather spend their cash on buying Lamborghini's, or a holiday trip to Europe. Yet, they sacrifice blood, sweat and sometimes tears, working hard for us. I'm pretty sure my Dad could've spent the money he spent on Marie to buy himself a new Blackberry. Instead, he used it to buy one for his daughter and that is one of the main reasons why I appreciate Marie, because I know. I didn't earn a new Blackberry, my results were never satisfying enough to earn one. Moreover, I didn't earn a new Blackberry using my Dad's own hard work. Instead, he bought it for me, because he knew I'd basically be strutting around like a zombie. Most of all, he wanted me to be happy. That's enough for me to have a solid reason to appreciate every single thing he has done for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Friends. They've been with us through thick and thin. Whether you claim them to be true or untrue, think of it this way. They once became at service to us, or helped us one way or another. Humans tend to look at the bad side of others. Stop for awhile and look at the good side. Appreciate that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Most of all, ourselves. Appreciate ourselves for who we are. Whether we are aneroxic or plus-sized. Whether we think we're ugly or we're just too beautiful too even look at. Whether we're stupid or one of the most recognizable genius in the world. Look back, and appreciate yourselves for standing where you're currently at. Hey, we might not be where we want to be -- yet. But at least we're still alive, and that itself is enough to be appreciated for.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-3040653263877054957?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/3040653263877054957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=3040653263877054957' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3040653263877054957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3040653263877054957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/10/appreciate.html' title='Appreciate.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-9083389832426315316</id><published>2011-10-12T19:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T19:47:31.012+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disappear.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"I'm calling you at 3 AM and I'm,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I'm standing here right outside your door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;And I don't think that my heart can take much more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I'm scared of cracking up again, I just&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Want it to be like it was before&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;And I don't think that my heart can take more"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sorry, I haven't been myself for the past few months&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I'll find myself again, time heals everything right?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Or might as well buy myself a working clock while I'm at it&lt;/b&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-9083389832426315316?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/9083389832426315316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=9083389832426315316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/9083389832426315316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/9083389832426315316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/10/disappear.html' title='Disappear.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-7742061683749435877</id><published>2011-10-02T13:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T13:30:44.612+08:00</updated><title type='text'>They Tell You To Get Out of Your Comfort Zone</title><content type='html'>It struck me while the class video presentation was going on that I'm going to be done with school in two more months. Two more. Fast. Months. I've always looked forward to leaving school. I've always hated the whole concept of the school. But it struck me, 5 years of being in the same environment. How am I going to handle myself in the latter? The usual faces I've become familiar with, I'm positively sure I'm not going to see them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That time, I remembered since Amir was the closest to my seat. I looked back and I could see he was somehow taken back by the whole presentation as well. I called him, and he even though I knew he could hear me -- I was already teary-eyed by then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dekat sekolah pun dah aliran berbeza-beza.&lt;br /&gt;I'm positively sure, we aren't going to end up in the same courses for university.&lt;br /&gt;Tak payah nak pandang UPU sangat, apply matrikulasi pun semua dah merata-rata tempat.&lt;br /&gt;If you asked me how I survived my high school years ; I'd credit my peers. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jj5xr5l_XMA/Tof223GmHtI/AAAAAAAAAxs/bCH4imGvR9g/s1600/Untitled-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jj5xr5l_XMA/Tof223GmHtI/AAAAAAAAAxs/bCH4imGvR9g/s400/Untitled-1.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because for the last five years, they are the people I see the most in my life. Imagine, 6 hours every 5 days for 4 weeks of 12 months and yes for 5 years. I can't imagine how long it would be if I counted the study group sessions, random outings and futsal games I've accompanied them. Yet, even in the virtual world, the "world-wide-web" and mobile phones, they're the ones whom I contact most.&amp;nbsp;So imagine after 5 years of living the same schedule, how am I supposed to go through life without them? I think, due to the fact that they've always been around and comfortable to be with ; my "comfort zone". Now how the heck am I supposed to branch out without them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-7742061683749435877?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/7742061683749435877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=7742061683749435877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7742061683749435877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7742061683749435877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/10/they-tell-you-to-get-out-of-your.html' title='They Tell You To Get Out of Your Comfort Zone'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jj5xr5l_XMA/Tof223GmHtI/AAAAAAAAAxs/bCH4imGvR9g/s72-c/Untitled-1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-7291406280052979947</id><published>2011-09-27T11:06:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T11:22:39.842+08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Know You Learn From History, Lol.</title><content type='html'>For starters, I don't really have many ex-es. Now most of you must be going, "What the hell minah ni, introduction dah macam hape". Haha, but its true. I don't. Alhamdulillah, I'm still friends with some of my ex-es. In fact, one of them turned out to become one of my best-friends whom have been there with me possibly through thick and thin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like last year, I rekindled my friendship with him after one whole year of not speaking to each other. It was funny how we actually sat with our group of friends after tuition and we were talking about "us". The "us" that happened when I was what, fourteen? And unlike most fourteen-year-old-relationships these days, ni jenis couple yang takat mesej je. Jumpa sipu-sipu malu. Haha, that was the longest relationship I've ever had -- officially.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we both agreed on one thing though ;&lt;br /&gt;"Alah, waktu tu dua-dua tak matang. Hahahaha". &lt;br /&gt;Oh and the other thing which was he was a douche for leaving me like that but -- we're cool. It turned out we were better off as best-friends than whatever we once had lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this year, during the school holidays, another ex of mine had breakfast with me and we had fun just talking about our lives. During a moment when I was in the verge of a breakdown, he gave me one of the best advices I needed at that time. Besides also saying "Padan muka kau" straight to my face, the advice he gave me made me give a long thought about the matter and eventually, I managed to get myself out of the "confusing haystack" of problems I was experiencing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though some ex-es are just better off not knowing their existence to ourselves than rekindling any form of friendship again, my ex-es have developed to become the supportive people whom mostly guide me through out the challenges of life *pui*. Whether its a hunger problem, life problem or even an Additional Mathematics problem, most of them have always stuck by my side -- no matter what the "relationship" is/was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And most of them, have suceeded well in proving life is way better off having me as a friend rather than the other way. They also proved I must have been one useless girlfriend bhahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But thanks to them, I've learned a few things as well. So I'm quite grateful to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, I've learned not to text someone frequently or else he'll lie to you and tell you his brother is using his phone and act as if nothing happened lol. I've learned to not be in a long-distance relationship especially when the only source of communication you have is a public phone. I've learned to not put high expectations on someone, especially if he's seventeen and you can't really expect anything from a guy when he's seventeen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if "learning from history" has made me into a better girlfriend or what-so-ever lol, and I don't really care considering that I'm seventeen and I have a long way to go to lead a carefree life. But one thing's for sure, most of the them have helped me to develop and become a better person. And that's enough for me to be thankful towards them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-7291406280052979947?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/7291406280052979947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=7291406280052979947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7291406280052979947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/7291406280052979947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/09/you-know-you-learn-from-history-lol.html' title='You Know You Learn From History, Lol.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-1640195867587035261</id><published>2011-09-24T11:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T11:49:05.518+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Think of Mistakes.</title><content type='html'>As a human, we all make mistakes. Yet, who made you the judge of right and wrong? If the world were selfish and if feelings were to be prioritized to only a person, wouldn't all of us live in a world full of ignorance? Yet, if we were to always think of others, wouldn't that be unfair? Though, we all know, life is never fair. So why are we always fighting for equality?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say, "The person who doesn't make mistakes is unlikely to make anything".&lt;br /&gt;Are we really the "mistake" we made, was actually a "mistake"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because one's action doesn't please someone, doesn't mean it should be referred to as a mistake, as something wrong. If life was about "pleasing" everybody, wouldn't we be doing things for the wrong reasons? As individuals, why hope on others to "please" us, when we, ourselves are capable of making ourselves happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping on others' actions for our own emotional stability, to me that is, seems quite wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Especially when we are still confused, clueless and uncertain if the "others'" will still exist with us through out our lives. So, mind you if I'm not caring. I'm sticking to what I think. Peace out bruh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-1640195867587035261?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/1640195867587035261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=1640195867587035261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/1640195867587035261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/1640195867587035261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-i-think-of-mistakes.html' title='What I Think of Mistakes.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-1104775008336601305</id><published>2011-09-21T23:12:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T17:46:28.711+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Just Ain't My Year.</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="274" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/43_s11EK790" width="480"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;I wouldn't mind missing All Time Low ; but The Used? The-fcking-Used? Mind my language, but The Used has always been one of my favourite bands. Of all time, bro and I'm not trying to pull off a Kanye West here, but you have to be kidding me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;center style="text-align: left;"&gt;54 more days till Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia. I'm burnt toast, no kidding.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-1104775008336601305?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/1104775008336601305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=1104775008336601305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/1104775008336601305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/1104775008336601305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/09/this-just-aint-my-year.html' title='This Just Ain&apos;t My Year.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/43_s11EK790/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-2326676573813746362</id><published>2011-09-18T11:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T11:53:29.101+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What To Blog About Eh?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, I wonder why I have a blog in the first place. My writings, they usually come in random and whenever I do want to blog about anything, usually I'd forget what I wanted to blog about in the first place. For example, usually when I'm randomly babbling to my friends, I'd finally get ideas to blog and by the time I sit in front of the laptop -- my mind goes blank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writer's block eh? Or is it because I'm transforming into a "mak-nenek" already. *Insert Darth Vader's 'noooooo' here*.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering it is my blog, I like to blog about observations and feelings rather than my agenda. I find it rather boring to read whatever I've done, and if I do blog about them, I'm positively sure people don't care at all about what I did. Lol. I'm not going to blog about my boyfriend, cause I have english tabloids and football sites to help me with that *perasan beno kau awek Walcott, pui* and I just don't know what to blog about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually these days most blogs I go to if they don't talk about their agenda's or their luuurvelife, the other thing they blog about is how they loathe and disgust certain people. Which, by far I disagree with this method of blogging. I don't find the purpose why people do this. I mean why trouble yourself to talk about others and their imperfections. I mean, okay if it's based on your experience, I can understand but ni yang jenis yang, "Kau tau anak Senah tu dah la bodoh, perampas, buruk" &amp;lt;= ni aku tak paham kenapa. Motif. If you say it's to "ease your suffering" lol. Get a diary. But yeah, well your blog, I guess. I'm so against this blogging attitude, just making a statement lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I blog about my cat. What is there to blog about that fat orange cat. All he does is eat, meow and sleep. As boring as I can be, I know my life is at least more interesting than his life. Although, it would be nice to fill in a kitty cat's paws and see how life would be from his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, conclusion of this post ; I still don't know what to blog about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-2326676573813746362?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/2326676573813746362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=2326676573813746362' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/2326676573813746362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/2326676573813746362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-to-blog-about-eh.html' title='What To Blog About Eh?'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-2290008157951241459</id><published>2011-09-16T08:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T08:03:35.210+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Them.</title><content type='html'>"With friendship, it doesn't matter how long you've known each other or how many fights you've had. What's matters is who said "I'll be there for you" and always was and still is" - courtesy of weheartit.com.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UgHe2j8MGzs/TnGYGgtArvI/AAAAAAAAAxY/JZU20LO6H8o/s1600/gabbahey.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UgHe2j8MGzs/TnGYGgtArvI/AAAAAAAAAxY/JZU20LO6H8o/s400/gabbahey.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I've had my own fair share of people entering my life and leaving it as if the door was always opened. But somehow, these three guys have never left my side during my every time of need. Yes, like any other friendship we've had our high's and low's. We've fought about everything from swine flu's, fried mushroom until the serious aspects of life. But somehow, their space in my heart has never been vacant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truly a friendship I cherish most.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-2290008157951241459?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/2290008157951241459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=2290008157951241459' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/2290008157951241459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/2290008157951241459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/09/them.html' title='Them.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UgHe2j8MGzs/TnGYGgtArvI/AAAAAAAAAxY/JZU20LO6H8o/s72-c/gabbahey.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-4755581781488728278</id><published>2011-09-02T14:21:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T14:21:45.945+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aidilfitri '11</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Georgia, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt;Selamat Hari Raya ; Maaf, Zahir dan Batin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kUvXr-tCpUs/TmBypRPg9hI/AAAAAAAAAxE/A-EJF6R9bRQ/s1600/IMG_6223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="223" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kUvXr-tCpUs/TmBypRPg9hI/AAAAAAAAAxE/A-EJF6R9bRQ/s400/IMG_6223.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dmqDA8K0ERQ/TmByr46ky9I/AAAAAAAAAxI/cIC2XWO8_6c/s1600/IMG_6216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="223" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dmqDA8K0ERQ/TmByr46ky9I/AAAAAAAAAxI/cIC2XWO8_6c/s400/IMG_6216.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-32xYfmQKkCg/TmByvCnjb4I/AAAAAAAAAxM/5mppW3az3uc/s1600/IMG_6221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="223" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-32xYfmQKkCg/TmByvCnjb4I/AAAAAAAAAxM/5mppW3az3uc/s400/IMG_6221.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z-R0lzb3ppM/TmBy-wlRlUI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/GiL3-VXbXHs/s1600/311565_10150275209497199_586182198_8028422_1646633_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z-R0lzb3ppM/TmBy-wlRlUI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/GiL3-VXbXHs/s400/311565_10150275209497199_586182198_8028422_1646633_n.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Hello anon readers, followers, stalking family members &amp;amp; yang sekutu dengannya! Got back from Singapore yesterday after 4 days of being away from home. It feels&amp;nbsp;good to be back in Bandar Baru Bangi, better yet just to be in Malaysia it self. I think most of the pounds I've lost after a month of fasting have been gained back. The amount of food intake was beyond. But all is well, my raya was devine. Nothing more could describe how happy I was to be spending quality family time + food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent Raya's Eve and half of 1st day of Raya at my dad's side in Bahau, Negeri Sembilan. It's been awhile since we went back there so it was a blissful moment to be back, hanging out at the memorable staircase and of course playing firecrackers. The next day, we were treated to a delightful buffet of traditional Raya dishes prepared by my aunt's and uncle's a day before. We visited my late grandmother's sister's house after paying our respects to our grandparent's grave. We were treated to delicious mee soto, gulai ayam kampung and homemade dodol. That was how bloated I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuing our journey, my family bid farewell to that side of our family and went off to Singapore to join my mom's side where they were busy visiting our relative's houses. There, we were again treated with lots and lots of food. Undescribable. The way I felt. Heavenly *flaps angel wings*. Spent two nights there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to reality, trials after Raya hols. Can you believe it? Only 70+ days to go till I face SPM? Only 90+ days to go till I finish school? Time flies fast doesn't it. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-4755581781488728278?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/4755581781488728278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=4755581781488728278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/4755581781488728278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/4755581781488728278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/09/aidilfitri-11.html' title='Aidilfitri &apos;11'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kUvXr-tCpUs/TmBypRPg9hI/AAAAAAAAAxE/A-EJF6R9bRQ/s72-c/IMG_6223.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-4512091500747482179</id><published>2011-08-21T20:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T20:55:17.348+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Procrastination.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp02n3NPpd1qdy8xto1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="348" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp02n3NPpd1qdy8xto1_500.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-4512091500747482179?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/4512091500747482179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=4512091500747482179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/4512091500747482179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/4512091500747482179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/08/procrastination.html' title='Procrastination.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-6220616529577476499</id><published>2011-08-16T00:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T00:45:53.848+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stronger.</title><content type='html'>Letting go is something we all have difficulty doing. If it happens easily for you, then basically I guess -- you've never felt anything for the certain person. I had my fairshare of a very complicated experience of letting go this year and truthfully, without any hesitation I would tell you -- I would never ever want to go through that phase again. Even though I'm just 17 and "there's more to offer in life", one things for sure. That painful experience lead me to becoming more cautious when it comes to that part of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. Its funny when I hear these stories about guys *mostly* going with other girls and then wanting their ex-es back. Macam. Entah. Kau pikir hidup kau senang sangat nak dapat perempuan tu balik ke?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My good guy friend told me;&lt;br /&gt;"Perempuan ni kan, masalah utama dia, they fall to hard. Diorang pikir banyak sangat pasal benda ni kot".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's our fault, huh. But I'm not saying all girls are like that, but I'm pretty sure most girls are. Especially at this age where most of us are still confused on what love or whatever bullshit is. Blergh, honestly to tell you truth. After all the shits I've been through, I don't really know if it what it is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl already put through enough having to move on from all those so-called "sweet" memories and shits that had already happened. Like how on earth could you expect to just get the girl back? I'm sure about 80 percent wouldn't want to go through that painful experience again. It would be more painful for those who had to look at the guy and another girl. Pffffft, that feeling just sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how would the new ex feel? As if she's some kind of rebound. Played just to test someones love for them ke whatever other excuses. You know the world is filled with excuses these days so might as well face reality. Sometimes, we can be naïve to be drawn towards these stupendous excuses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then again, for the uncautious. Aren't we always naïve when it comes to matters that we "think" matters most? Easily said, aren't we usually naïve when it comes to love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will always be people who take you for granted. Whether you like it or not. Why should we give these people excuses to enter our lives again? Love? Bullshit. Its weird how you think no matter how strong we think we are, behind this, theres always been one person who has let us down and its most likely to blame -- love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Behind every beautiful girl's smile, there's a man, a man who treated her like shit and made her stronger" - Anon, Tumblr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-6220616529577476499?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/6220616529577476499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=6220616529577476499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/6220616529577476499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/6220616529577476499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/08/stronger.html' title='Stronger.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-8688211535316731084</id><published>2011-08-03T15:05:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T15:05:49.201+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Favourite Month.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FIWCV5Uufr8/Tjjy0VI9KKI/AAAAAAAAAwY/lmRIC2f_hmE/s1600/IMG_8782-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="297" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FIWCV5Uufr8/Tjjy0VI9KKI/AAAAAAAAAwY/lmRIC2f_hmE/s400/IMG_8782-1.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The main reason why I love Ramadan ; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;family&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Happy fasting followers, I'll update more when I have time. I'm basically full on busy with SPM preparations. Till then xx.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-8688211535316731084?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/8688211535316731084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=8688211535316731084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/8688211535316731084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/8688211535316731084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-favourite-month.html' title='My Favourite Month.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FIWCV5Uufr8/Tjjy0VI9KKI/AAAAAAAAAwY/lmRIC2f_hmE/s72-c/IMG_8782-1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-936436936068847169</id><published>2011-07-26T20:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T20:25:54.064+08:00</updated><title type='text'>She's Beautiful ♥</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://data.whicdn.com/images/11400282/tumblr_ln5b2qLCu61qhuvemo1_500_large.png?1309427177" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="311" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/11400282/tumblr_ln5b2qLCu61qhuvemo1_500_large.png?1309427177" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ladies and gentlemen, this is Ellie Goulding &lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;♥&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I blogging about her? Because I think she's one of the most beautiful and influential genuine singers in the music industry. First of all, she's British and I happen to love British people. Secondly, her hairstyle is amazing. I don't know how she does the whole "undercut-shave" look but it looks amazing. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About her songs and her writing skills, buy/download the whole album. I'm 100% sure, you'll fall in love with her :&amp;gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-936436936068847169?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/936436936068847169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=936436936068847169' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/936436936068847169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/936436936068847169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/07/shes-beautiful.html' title='She&apos;s Beautiful ♥'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-5786342953580168917</id><published>2011-07-16T11:20:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T11:58:09.347+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have No Idea.</title><content type='html'>Its funny how we can actually be "friends" again after all that we've been through. No hard feelings, but I seriously don't feel anything anymore. People tell me to stay away from you but I think the friendship we used to had is way more important than all the dramas we've been through. But I still feel uncomfortable yeh so ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hungry. Hmmmmm. Its the only constant feeling I feel these days. People say basically "stress" plays a big role in contributing towards the feeling of being hungry but to think of it, I'm not really stressed about anything at all. I feel like munching a big fat juicey Portobello Mushroom Burger and those big fries at Carls Jr. Heaven wey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks back or so, I liked someone accidentally. I didn't mean to or so and it was just a slight crush but now I'm beginning to think, hey. Maybe the reason why I felt that way towards him was because he was there for me. So, in a way. I tried to go away but it resulted to another problem. So I stayed this time acting as if nothing ever happened. Yeah but that's the thing. The "acting as if nothing ever happened" resulted to me thinking. If I really did like that human being, it wouldn't have been easy to walk away but instead. I walked away easily, I pretended nothing ever happened easily. Which more likely comes to another conclusion that heyyyy, maybe I didn't like this human being after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aku rasa macam buat experiment pulak ok. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But while all of this was happening, I was drawn to a certain subject which I used to despise most. Additional Mathematics. Somehow, feeling all confused and "not-caring" made me do a lot of Paper 1 Additional Mathematics questions. So, in a way it kinda helped me and now I'm interested in studying Additional Mathematics most of the time instead of always doing Sejarah and Physics. So wohoo thanks for that ye! That was so random hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching my favourite UK TV shows make me miss UK more and more. I miss waking up to the smell of our flat, the comfy bed, the always hot and cozy towel, the perfect temperature of the shower, the smell of toast and cheese in the kitchen, the TV channels provided by SKY, BBC One and its marvellous music wonders, the smell of London streets and just the people there, Oxford Street, the McDonalds at Trafalgar Square, oh and Emirates, not forgetting Hay on Wye and its beautiful hills, Oxford's beautiful architecture, Cardiff -- I simply love Cardiff, and my favourite place of all. Lake District. Cumbria was just. Beautiful. The blueberry pancakes were just oh so heavenly. I can just cry. Oh and the vegetable lasagna at Birmingham was heavenly as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to further my education in UK badly but I know that's going to be impossible due to my grades. I'm just mainly not interested at all with what I'm studying right now. I don't know why I'm counting how many moles are there in a certain substance, I don't know why I'm drawing triangles and looking for tangents oh and I don't even know when I'm going to use dy/dx in real life. I'm just not a science student at all. The only science subject I'm interested in is Physics. People say "study harder" but the thing is as much hard as I study, I just don't know why I'm studying it in the first place. Next they give you that "study smart" thing. Oh puhlease give me a break I've been to a lot of motivational workshops telling you the same method on how to study and I've experimented in a numerous number of them but no. Still. Blergh. Sometimes, I think me choosing to be in this science stream is going to be one of those decisions I'm going to regret for life. Mainly due to SPM being the so-called "most important exam in your life" yeah and I'm taking subjects which have no relation to what I want to do in the future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got called by the councelor the other day, due to my Chemistry result and she was like "noo, you can't say you have no interest in it". Like wtf. Hahaah, you don't even know me in the first place and here you are telling me what I should and should not have interest in. Then she goes on babbling on my capability and starts blabbing about the Engineering industry and how many future engineers there are out there waiting to get a spot in university, especially those public ones. And I'm sitting there all blank and like trying to take whatever she's talking in my head when it suddenly came out of me from nowhere, "Tapi saya nak amek Mass Com cikgu".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looks at me as if its a crime. As if Mass Com isn't something productive and all the engineering blabbing she'd done the last few minutes ago was still the "best thing in the world". First of all Joker, you're not the boss of my life. Basically meaning, you don't have the rights to tell me what I should have and should not have interest in. Secondly, you think Mass Com isn't as dope as Engineering? Ever heard of new-age media? Oh no I doubt so since all read is Kosmo or Metro. But oh wait ah minute, doesn't that have to do with the wonderful beauty of Mass Com too, Joker? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate how some teachers in my school are just shallow minded. The easiest example is when a boy and a girl are walking together and *poof* "Awak jangan berjalan berdua-duaan eh, haram". They make up the stupidest laws of life, if I could list them all up, it would just be the funniest book ever. Another example is how us, Engineering Drawing kids are usually given the most dumbfounded excuses and accusations ever. Saying we're not "capable" of rising the school's grades. Like do I care? No. As an individual, its my results which are going to bring me to the top. Not your stupid overall statistics and your lame awards which you keep repeating like some riak person. Like shut up, you don't have to tell us 2654585 times what "school" we are and how "people actually know us". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why. I just can't wait to get out of that hell hole. Ok I'm bored bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-5786342953580168917?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/5786342953580168917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=5786342953580168917' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/5786342953580168917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/5786342953580168917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-have-no-idea.html' title='I Have No Idea.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-3419014441732580068</id><published>2011-07-11T15:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T15:08:03.643+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Philaphobia.</title><content type='html'>Nak tahu benda scary tak? Haha.&lt;br /&gt;Aku en, takut la nak ber-143 dengan orang ni. Sekali kena tipu tu, pergh. Padah dia. Bertahan tau. Kekadang aku pun pikir. Macam ye je tu 143. Entah la maybe aku pun baru 17 tahun. Nak kenal erti 143, couple-couple ni semua eyuw. Tak tahu la.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tapi tak salah kan suka orang? Sebenarnya, kalau orang tanya aku apa beza 143 dengan suka. Ye, ketara sangat sebenarnya. Tapi sebab pikir balik, aku pun taktahu 143 tu apa. Orang cakap, nama "penyakit" ni is "philaphobia". Tapi aku pun dah susah nak describe apa aku rasa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yang penting, konklusi dan intihar post yang aku penat taip guna hp ni ialah; Aku tak sayang kau tapi aku suka kau. Macam tu la.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-3419014441732580068?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/3419014441732580068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=3419014441732580068' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3419014441732580068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/3419014441732580068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/07/philaphobia.html' title='Philaphobia.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-1234337814394062543</id><published>2011-07-03T17:19:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T17:21:18.337+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somewhat Closure.</title><content type='html'># Random fact : &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666;"&gt;I've known both of them since I was eight years old in primary school. Yes, so we've actually known each other for approximately 9 years and counting! In a way, they're the closest and longest friends I've ever had.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X11HyCbI_24/ThAy8F1cfhI/AAAAAAAAAwE/MD0l3vGY0rA/s1600/Untitled-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X11HyCbI_24/ThAy8F1cfhI/AAAAAAAAAwE/MD0l3vGY0rA/s640/Untitled-1.png" width="425" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Today woke up early and headed off to the Botanical Gardens in Putrajaya. We&amp;nbsp;intended to jog but instead we&amp;nbsp;entered&amp;nbsp;another realm into Magika *you know that Malay movie which won a&amp;nbsp;lot of awards last year, or was it this year//heck I don't really care*.&amp;nbsp;Continuing the whole post ahem,&amp;nbsp;we&amp;nbsp;walked around&amp;nbsp;and climbed hills. Took a lot of pictures, ate Duh! Tomato and basically they&amp;nbsp;finished my Green Tea oh and we even gave food to the fishies. It was fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The last time I went there something happened. Going there just now, made me feel like what happened previously was basically nothing. I'm not saying I've fully forgotten everything because it's going to take more&amp;nbsp;time but I just don't really mind going to the places which once had affected me in a way anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;So thank you to you both for overlapping my previous memory :') &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-1234337814394062543?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/1234337814394062543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=1234337814394062543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/1234337814394062543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/1234337814394062543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/07/closure.html' title='Somewhat Closure.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X11HyCbI_24/ThAy8F1cfhI/AAAAAAAAAwE/MD0l3vGY0rA/s72-c/Untitled-1.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-8818748879105799416</id><published>2011-06-26T01:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T01:00:25.285+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sky is Limitless.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q2yK-VD0XDg/TgYM3xQ3baI/AAAAAAAAAvo/ts8vpAzqR8M/s1600/DSC_0637.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="265" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q2yK-VD0XDg/TgYM3xQ3baI/AAAAAAAAAvo/ts8vpAzqR8M/s400/DSC_0637.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Had a hectic day today. Rushing here and there. Especially since it was my first time driving with having to hear two voices telling you to break at the same time. I have an issue with the fact that I live on an isolated hill with loads of bumpers, I hate to have to break every minute. Tsk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I sometimes wish my life was like the sky. Somehow limitless. Clear and blue. Clouds as obstacles but easy to overcome. I know I'm going to be able to put my studies to the top. I know I'm capable of making my family proud. To me the sky is not the limit, it's just a level. I'm going to be able to have a better outcome in life. I know I'm capable of doing so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-8818748879105799416?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/8818748879105799416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=8818748879105799416' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/8818748879105799416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/8818748879105799416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/06/sky-is-limitless.html' title='The Sky is Limitless.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q2yK-VD0XDg/TgYM3xQ3baI/AAAAAAAAAvo/ts8vpAzqR8M/s72-c/DSC_0637.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-9031705013562918870</id><published>2011-06-24T18:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T18:15:27.754+08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Already Half.</title><content type='html'>I've been neglecting Blogger too much to go on Tumblr these days. It's nothing much really -- just that I don't feel that safe to blog here. With the amount of people increasing, yah I just don't know if I can truly let myself out. Lately, I've been confused with my future again. What I want to do in life. Am I chosing the right path. I've never set my mind towards loving the stream I'm currently taking but I'm working my best to make sure it at least benefits me. Even slightly possibly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P4eObwa4hqk/TgRi4HccMbI/AAAAAAAAAuE/F1Ux0iVFeBQ/s1600/wkakaka.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="245" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P4eObwa4hqk/TgRi4HccMbI/AAAAAAAAAuE/F1Ux0iVFeBQ/s400/wkakaka.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Another thing, to top it off we got our class pictures today. I happen to always suck during school picture day. Believe me, the whole running-to-the-closest-mirror thing doesn't suit me at all. I've never been mastering my school scarf and it's sad to say that school's ending. No more class photos of wearing blue and white. I'm not really sure what I'll be wearing next year *lolol* but I'm glad I got to take my last class photo with them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #e06666; font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So here's my ode, to the most annoying, the most noisiest, but the most unpredicatable class I've ever been in. Salute'.﻿&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-9031705013562918870?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/9031705013562918870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=9031705013562918870' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/9031705013562918870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/9031705013562918870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/06/its-already-half.html' title='It&apos;s Already Half.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P4eObwa4hqk/TgRi4HccMbI/AAAAAAAAAuE/F1Ux0iVFeBQ/s72-c/wkakaka.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4436572749110784122.post-2592608005585930375</id><published>2011-05-19T15:17:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T19:00:03.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hold You Down.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="303" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iVDzXPRhlHE" width="480"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Dengar Yuna's rendition of one of my favourite songs by one of my favourite bands, Taking Back Sunday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4436572749110784122-2592608005585930375?l=aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/feeds/2592608005585930375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4436572749110784122&amp;postID=2592608005585930375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/2592608005585930375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4436572749110784122/posts/default/2592608005585930375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aisyahmustapha.blogspot.com/2011/05/hold-you-down.html' title='Hold You Down.'/><author><name>Aisyah Mustapha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13541519163774746550</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v8CHM4LCdzU/TsOHBbC2O9I/AAAAAAAAAys/s-vtXg6X-yU/s220/IMG_6972.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/iVDzXPRhlHE/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
