Zulkarnain Sadali. I'm nineteen but I tend to forget so I unknowingly tell people I'm eighteen. Ridiculous, I know. I'm a rockstar in between the sets, no eyeliner and cigarettes. Life is magical, but its not so fantastic. Oh.
A student in Temasek Polytechnic's IIT School, majoring in Interactive Media Informatics, (IMI) with intentions of making it in the Media industry, a far cry from anything in IT. But I'm open to its possibilities.
I like to leave a little mystery in everything I type, and certain times I do not like to be obvious. I rather speak in tounges and cryptically because that's how I roll. But I always stand by my beliefs.
Just like Hannah Montana, I get the best of both worlds. I like fun but I don't mix anything together. Except when socialising though. Anything goes.
I'm a good boy, most of the times. Of course I shan't deny. I can be a real devil.
I repeat, I stand by my beliefs. If you don't like it, then you should put a red X on it.
(n) photographers and other people involved in the media, who follow people, especially celebrities, in order to look for stories
If you want to be linked, click "Comment" below any blog entry or scroll up under "Honey" and click on any comment. Then, add your name and address, and a short message. I will link you as soon as possible.
(n) supressing information or waves of frequencies that are not required
(n) a tool that holds the disco ball, a sexual innuendo
Surprised? This is my 33rd layout. The 41-month long run of DONT-CHA.blogspot.com spawned many layouts, from graphic art to vectors, to very narcissistic ones.
The layout is based on Lady GaGa's video, Poker Face. The layout goes hand-in-hand in promoting her debut album, The Fame.
No copyright infringement intended.
As a writer, I accept constructive criticism. However, as a person, I do not appreciate disrespectful and hurtful comments to me, my family, friends and/or but not limited to anyone that I speak of on my blog.
I do not guarantee that you will like everything that I read/say on DONT-CHA, but my intention is to entertain.
Please respect my work and my blog and kindly do not steal ANYTHING written/posted on my blog. It is deemed theft. If you want to use something, please just ask. This includes my profiles on FaceBook, Twitter, YouTube including but not limited to Friendster. I usually say yes.
I repeat. If you don't like it, put a red X on it, for Windows, and a red dot on it, for Mac.
I advise that you view this on a 1024x768 screen, preferably larger. Best viewed by my own Macbook.
IANZS (iamnotzulkarnainsadali) is where I spam a lot of junk, you can follow me there.
However, if you want more of a Dont-Cha style kind of writing, you can always follow me on artshark
DC will stay on so that everyone can look back on the adventures I've been through. Follow me on artshark. I'm a little more open there and well, I'll talk about why I stop updating DC. Well, yes, the comment function still works, so ask me anything.
I can't remember the last time I was in a competition. When I was really young, I joined a singing competition and I won. I remembered how much I wanted to beat that kid who sang Beatles. And me, singing a sappy song by Siti Nurhaliza.
And every year in Secondary school, every year, I participated in at least 2 competitions. I had a feeling deep inside that I liked winning, being the best. The feeling of winning of winning was always euphoric deep inside.
Now I'm in Poly. There was only two competitions that I participated in. Dragonboat and debate. That's it. I never realised how little I put my hand at things.
Then I realised, everyday is a competition. To look at things in a wider angle, being better than your classmates is a competition. Being better than whomever, is a competition itself. It doesn't necessarily need a sign-up sheet.
Competition for one's feeling is tedious, and hectic. I hate it. But I like you. And I don't expect a throwdown, but if I have to, I will.
Even though it seems like I'm competeting with someone who is just playing with your heart or just someone who would fuck and run, it would take a lot of me to convince you still because somehow, along the way, your feelings are still with him.
Maybe he came around first. Maybe he said hello first. But will he last, that is a question of which the answer is never sure.
I like you. I really really do. And I always win competitions. Trust.
Why, I take pride in my work, everything that I do. Even if it has the smallest amount of effort, it is still my effort. And for the record, everything that I touch, every thought that has been put through, it is not a small effort.
I put my heart and soul in EVERYTHING I DO.
Be it the washing dishes late at night, writing a blog entry or even some photoshop work, I put my heart and soul into it.
Heck, I even put in sweat if I have to.
So please, do NOT tell me my work is incompetent, do NOT edit my work or add changes without my permission, and bottom line is,
DO NOT EDIT MY WORK.
Would you like it if I took your homework and edited it and then submit to the teacher?
Would you like it if I say you did an awful job after you slaved over it?
You would NOT.
And don't try to cover up by saying, "I want you to improve," or "I'm trying to help you out."
Fact is, you're not. You're being very classless and very immoral.
You want to give me some constructive criticism, tell me HOW I should improve, WHERE can I improve and GIVE POINTERS on how I can get started.
Do not edit my work and try to pass it off as your own.
It's classless and I do not appreciate people. I don't fucking care how awkward it is, DON'T DO IT.
Some people can really smile at you while they hide their hands after they throw rocks on your face.
I am overworked because I underwork. I am killing myself slowly, I am on the verge of breaking down. I have no idea why, but my jaws are hurting. My veins are popping out. I need to chill. I need to get high. I need to go somewhere else.
If your Monday blues still fxcking up your day, then waste 3 minutes of your life watching the fifth installment of UnEdited.
The email for the Leadership Training Camp (LTC) came into my inbox a few hours too late. I couldn't even print out the form to let my parents sign it, I bet I won't see them when I wake up tomorrow. Regardless, one must do what one has to.
(Insert bad ass music here)
And by bad ass music, I think you know what I actually have to do.
Moreover two days isn't long, but the fact that I have to attend (and actually ton, which is to stay awake for hours way past my bedtime) at the Subcomm retreat puzzles me. Yes, I am kinda looking forward to tonning but if I don't dance or have Macky in front of me past midnight, don't expect me to stay awake.
And with my already fxcked up body clock, tonning is the last thing I want. So let's see how long I'll last, then I'll find a nice place to lie and just forget about the world.
Besides, I think I'll be the only Halal meat there.
(Play Halo by Beyoncé)
As in, the only one who won't drink, lah see-rai-uhs-lee.
I'll tweet my adventures, but I might drop by DONT-CHA to drop a few bombs here and there. See how it goes.
The camp is in the wrong timing. Don't them heffas know that I have a million things to do by Friday?!
If you thought I was gone, you're probably, but most definitely wrong. A lot of shifts here and there but other than that, I've been getting my bad-assness on, which is to say, sheeshaing on the down low and sticking a few ciggs here and there, but don't worry.
The only thing I'm addicted on is Twitter. Follow me.
Cheapskate old me thought that it would be wise to just smoke socially. I don't buy ciggs, I just take a puff and get back to whatever I'm doing. Other than that, smoking is wrong.
Smoking is not to define that I've grown up, but the change of how I'm open to more things, things that are new to me. I guess it's all part and parcel of growing up, of course despite the fact that others take a more cleaner route of growing up.
The long absence from blogging definitely, well at least, I think, made me change the way I talk about my days. I've become more free, in that sense of which I think lesser subliminal messages and more of 'look bitch I'm in your face' type of thing, but of course, a little ambiguity causes a lot of turned heads.
And please, before you start saying, "oh Zul's easily influenced, such a pushover." STFU and burn in hell. A lot of the things I've done, no matter how spontaneous, a lot of thought has been made, behind every decision.
Although a little misstep is expected, none is regretted.
Except for maybe a few, like missing PCD's concert. Oh, Melody, I apologise.
Speaking of my bad-assness, I got myself into a shitload of commitments. IITSC, (kinda like my school's student union, not the TPSU. Hah) I have no idea what I've gotten myself into but I think I like my job there. Underline, bold, italicise 'think & like'.
Before I express some... Preconceived assurance and love for the committee, I think I'll just do my job and try to get along with the other members, which is to say, I miss being around people I'm comfortable with but as I've mentioned.
Part and parcel of growing up.
A huge part of me knows I can do it. The other part just wants to either take a nap or get wasted. HAHA.
I have an upcoming leadership training camp coming up on Tuesday. I'll tweet myself out of it, majorly. I mean spending a couple of days with people I'm not exactly used to may be alright, but other than that, I'll try to keep the loudness level of myself down.
I just finished my term tests. Easily said, my answer sheets look like purple vomit struck it. And projects are mounting sky high. Something I know I can get over it. I like it when there's pressure.
The preconceived notion that weekends should be spent out partying up or just lazing at some random cafe, beach, and/or but not limited to someone's house, seems so old to me.
Back to work, Zul, back to work.
Oh and you know what's fucking me upside down? Singtel being all monopolizing and shit about Lady GaGa's gig in Singapore. I am so angry.
On a normal day, or as normal as it seemed, Nobita went to school and suffered his daily dose of abuses and bullying. Running home crying, hoping that Doraemon would rectify his problems, he discovered, to his horror, that Doraemon had stopped moving.
No matter how hard he kicked or punched Doraemon, the robot remained immobile and gave no reactions. Not knowing what to do, Nobita panicked, and tears were rolling out of his eyes. He was scared, and as he watched drops of tears falling, splashing themselves against the cold, hard body of the mechanism, Nobita suddenly realised he could time travel to the 22nd century and somehow resurrect Doraemon. Without thinking twice, he immediately jumped into the Time Travelling Machine located inside the drawer in his desk.
When he reached 250 years later, he found Dorami and was told that Doraemon had a flat battery and Nobita's best friend couldn't operate unless he receives a new battery. Normally, robotic cats would have spare batteries stored inside their ears, but considering that Doraemon had his pair nimbled off by a mechanical mice, the circuit has stopped. The problem being, if Doraemon has his batteries changed, all the memory saved inside Doraemon would be lost if the circuit is reset...
Doraemon will never remember Nobita and all the adventures they have been through together. Nobita, not wanting to lose his best friend, vowed to himself that from that day onwards he will study hard and one day become a successful robot technician and resurrect Doraemon with his own hands.
He told his parents and all his friends that Doraemon went back to the future. In fact, Nobita had hidden Doraemon inside his wardrobe. Not long after, people forgot about Doraemon's presence, though Nobita and Shizuka missed Doraemon dearly.
Nobita studied hard from then on, and each time he failed, he told himself that Doraemon is depending on him. Every time when he felt like giving up, he looked into the sky and think of all the wonderful time he had with Doraemon. Eventually, Nobita improved on his grades, and went straight from high school and into university, succeeding and achieving his goals. His hard work and determination paid off.
Thirty years later, Nobita transformed himself from a failure into the CEO of an Artificial Intelligence company. He was happily married to Shizuka, and after years of hard-work and research, he finally developed a computer chip which contained all of Doraemon's memory.
Nobita immediately retrieved Doraemon from his laboratory, and implemented the chip into his childhood friend. An eerie sound infiltrated the atmosphere, and within the next moment, before Nobita realised what had happened, Doraemon slowly got up and Nobita was in mixed emotions. He was both excited and scared, scared that Doraemon forgot about him. But he knew Doraemon hadn't when he held out his hands towards Nobita and smiled warmly at him.
"Nobita, I have waited for a long time. Congratulations." Doraemon said. And from then onwards, and for the rest of their lives, Doraemon and Nobita and family lived forever happily together. And let it be a lesson to the rest of you: If you can dream it, you can do it.