*Amirul Shakir is in a relationship*

Before you get all ''WHOA~ really?'', no, I am not in a relationship. I'm merely picturing what would happen on Facebook if I were in one, and decided to update my status as so.

So the topic today... a common one I would think, if you stuck around long enough reading my blog; it's about the boy-girl relationship.

Now there are two kinds of the usual boy-girl relationships.

Number One, as friends.

Oh, nice to meet you.

Second one, I think is normal as the first, as lovers.

Take my hand, and I'll take yours... *fluttering butterflies*

Of course, there are others such as brothers and sisters, cousins and whatnot, but today we're gonna focus on these two rather common ones.

Readers, I honestly tell you that I prefer the first one. Yes, you can have one girlfriend at a time, but when it comes to girl-friends (not lovers, no) you can have as much as you can. No attachments, just joking, laughing, smile-sharing people, helping one another out in times of distress. This is the preferable one, especially in dangerous times of high school. When you got friends of the opposite sex, you know you're metro-sexual. So, don't pal around in the same species; go out there and spread some love. (The love of friendship, I mean.)

The second one. Ah. These are dangerous waters, dear readers. If you taken an alternate road on the branch of friends and aiming to be ''more than friends'' you've arrived in the dating-relationship zone. Two people, have the same feelings for each other (what they really feel is entirely another different matter) and decide to stick together to see what happens. Some are successful and continue throughout their lives, while some... well, just ugly. Not being a pessimist here, but ugly boyfriend-girlfriend relationship outcomes are like the signature trademark of high school monkey love.

The basis for the second one is a crush. You start out with a crush, and if you have the guts, you can continue as so and achieve the lovers' status. But this also requires the right time, the right place and most important of all, the right feeling. Of both parties, mind you. You can't add a positive and a negative, you'll get a negative. But if you add a positive with a positive or a negative with a negative... you'll get a positive!

(+) + (+) = (+)
(-) + (-) = (+)

Oh, I love relating these topics with Maths and science. It just makes them tough academic subjects funnier than what our teachers intend it to be.

Oh. One more thing. I'm currently within the first choice, having girls as friends. No idea about the second one. And to you dolts who think I'm with Madeleine Teh, please don't think so. Both of us are in the first type of boy-girl relationship, though it's much crazier. I think I might be something of a gay best friend (yikes). But I have to admit, the ''fling'' with Hui Jan and Jacie prove to be much more crazier than all the other girls I've met.

Like Sean Ding said, ''wah, from Maddie to Jacie to Hui Jan. You certainly are the player this Puasa month,''

Dude. Prepare for a flying kick tomorrow. I did get lighter this past week, you know.

An eye for an eye makes the world go blind...

This is going to be a very serious post. I'll try to be a bit humorous in it, but I doubt I can.

Now, it's the month of Ramadhan, is it not? Time for patience-testing and willpower, and so on.

There's the buka puasa time every evening at 7.30+. It's supposed to be family time, where everyone sits around the table, waiting for the time to come in to break the day-long fast. Then when it's time, we say our prayers and eat, as a family.

I... don't like it. I'd rather eat alone. It's not that I don't appreciate my dad, mom, the sisters and the 13-year-long-in-service maid, but I hate it when we discuss an issue.

Then I see how nasty my family can become.

Today we discussed about Osama bin Laden and his family in Mecca, because my parents just came back from there. Mecca's economy is being ruled by the Laden family, even in Osama's disappearance, due to his wanted status. His family has done a lot of stuff for the people of Mecca. Hosting free buka puasas, donating to local mosques and such.

I respect that much of the Laden family; and Osama as well. But what he did during the 9/11 attacks were too much.

Please just forgive what my mom said.

''The Laden family is taking orders from Osama himself, the States just don't know it. A lot of good he did for the Muslims. I don't blame him for the 9/11 attacks.''

I was shocked. Thousands of people died in those attacks, sons lost their fathers, husbands lost their wives, lovers lost their beloved, and my mom said Osama was right in doing so.

I countered, as politely as possible,

''People are still people. You don't just chuck out a life like that. And we're talking countless of lives here.''

Before my mom could reply, my maid jumped in from the other side of the dinner table.

''Don't judge him on what he did. People may say what they want about Osama bin Laden, but he's still a hero for us (Muslims).''

Screw what she said, I never liked her anyway. I shot,

''Even after all those people died? INNOCENT people? There's blood on his hands! Killing innocents is what Muslims are against as well!''

Dinner turned into a debate when my mom pointed her finger at me and hissed,

''Very well, then how about the people in Gaza? How many innocents died there? Israel, supported by the people of the States, ravaged their homeland, burned their crops, destroyed their houses and murdered their children in cold blood! Osama bin Laden demolished a few buildings while Israel, backed up by the oh-so-just USA raped an entire nation! Amirul, please don't justify on what the Israelis and Americans did, because what Laden did was fair compensation.''

My dad was sighing and at that time I knew I should stop. But not without the final comeback was uttered then I left the table.

''See, mom, the problem with an eye for an eye is, in the end, everyone goes blind.''

I'm so sorry if I don't have that semangat jihad. People are still people. Taking lives just to settle scores is not humane at all.

Mom, I hope your inhumanity was just because of the stress of fasting.

And screw you, maid, I don't care about you.

The Prologue

A couple of hours before Puan Maha's farewell party. To those who are clueless, Puan Maha is my school's discipline teacher. And the prefectorial board teacher advisor.

And to those clueless people, yes, I am a prefect. Unbelievable eh?

I was chatting with an old friend the other day. And when I told her I was on the right side of the law (sort of) as opposed to my days in Perak, she went;

'That's amazing! I mean, you used to diss them!'

To which I happily replied...

'Well, if you can't beat em, join em!''

Which all brings back memories of my days as a newbie in the very, very different SMK Sultan Abdul Samad. For one, the prefects are quite... how to say.... brutal face first. Well, prefects at my old school were brutal too, but somehow SMK Sultan Abdul Samad's prefects are more like organized-brutal.

''If the student has touched or in any way assaulted you, you may punch him in the face OR kick him in the balls. Executing both counter-attacks may result in your suspension from the Prefectorial Board.''

Well, they don't have that in the rule book, but if they did, I'd be pretty happy. But more or less, it's like that.

So the real question is... how did I come from hating prefects... to love being one of them? Was it the suit? The power? The less-restricting leash of school rules we have on us? (personally, I like the uniform. Blazers are hot. Hot, I tell you.)

What could I say? I signed up when they were recruiting newbies for a joke. For a joke. And then I saw the whole structure of the prefects. The way they were intergrated into the school, the amount of just power they exert on the students and the automatic image you receive from school faculty by just being a prefect. And I was starstruck.

So I worked my ass off as a junior recruit. Wasn't easy. But it was worth it.

Then after almost year serving under the lawkeepers' organisation, I saw the grittier, darker and more seclusive nature of the prefects. The way you have to turn and twist and that almost impossible-to-resist itch to join in school politics. That image you received of being a golden role model... you have to uphold it because anyone could break it down even after a small misstep.

But hey, no one said being a prefect was easy. And everyone who knows me will know how I deal with such stuff. Joke around the situation. Student enraged and wants to beat your ass after school? No problem. ''Can we reschedule? I got prefects meeting.'' Superior blaming you for doing something wrong? ''Sorry, I'll try harder next time. By the way, I saw how you *insert an embarassing incident in which your superior was involved* and I'd like to help you with it...''

That's how I deal with it and though it has some minor setbacks in the past, I've gotten through it with sheer-- no, not willpower, but rather wit power.

I've been a prefect for almost two years now. Tiring, yes. Looking forward to retirement? Yes. Not going to miss prefectship? No. I am going to miss it. Yes, sounds lame, but being a prefect has made me a better person. And look how much friends in law enforcement I've made.

It's farewell to Puan Maha and retirement for the Form 5 prefects in a few more weeks. Bye for now!

Bobby Blues

Sorry. I dunno why I said that. So sudden, so out of the blue. So... well, not to say spontaneous. But then again I don't know who to say sorry to.

I got nothing to blog about, actually. And this is sure as hell not a retarded version of Blues' Clues, so no worries.

I've never actually believed in the blues. I mean, what? ''Hey man, what's up?'' ''Oh hi, oh nothing much, just feeling blue,'' ''what the f*ck, is that some sort of disease?''

Oh, ignorant me.

Yeah, once I knew what the blues were, I didn't believe crap out of it. It's not actually feeling sad, and it's not actually feeling like those emo-goths, but the blues were kind of a stand-alone term.

Well, now that I've been infected with such, I came to believe it. I dunno why. There I was, eating a cracker, and whoosh, it came down like rain on me. And the annoying thing is I don't know why I'm feeling so damn blue.

Funny thing is blue is a different meaning with the Brits. ''Oh, feeling blue,'' ''Oh my god, you watch pornography, you bloody fool!'' Oh yeah, I love the way they talk. OK, I'm not gonna go deeper on porno in the UK.

Then I have those self-analysis kind of tests, you know. Asking myself questions in my head. It's like your very own psychiatrist within your consciousness. ''How are we today?'' ''Oh good, good. Can't wait for our session to begin.'' ''Oh and by the way, you left the toilet seat open, Mom's not gonna be happy about that.''

Gosh, what's wrong with me? Lame jokes, man. Lame!

Ehem. Anyway. Started with one question: anything bothering you?

Why, yes.

Do you know why?

No, and if I do, I won't be here talking to myself.

Do you have the smallest of clues of why you are experiencing the blues?

Erm. Sort of. But not sure.

And why so?

Because this is the part where you come in and tell me if I'm right or wrong.

Ah. Care to elaborate your suspicions first?

Well... I think it's girls. But I dunno if that's believable. I mean, I've never had trouble with 'em before...

Until now.

Right. Until now.

Precisely.

So what now?

See, this is why self-psychiatric help is free. Because it only helps you identify the problem. The rest... well, the rest is up to you, dear fellow.

Okay. That was really helpful. Really. But why do you talk with a British accent?

I'm gonna spare details. What goes on in my mind is possibly very disturbing for some. So I've been having those kind of sessions with myself almost everyday. And it ends up with the same thing.

Don't you get it, man? GIRLS! Good grief, get a hold of yourself and do SOMETHING about it!

Well, I was pretty smart to know that it didn't mean I had to go online and check those kind of websites...

So what was it? What was my problem with girls? I don't hate them. No, I admire them. Especially the hot ones. If I weren't lazy, I'd include a picture of me jiggling my eyebrow in a most suggestive way right here.

I don't think they hate me. Do they? I get along fine with them. Always kept my dirty jokes in line with them. Maybe some girls harbor some hatred towards me in a spiritual way? And my spiritual antenna is picking up the backlash of that hate while they hide it behind their faces.

Because let's face it, when girls say something, they mean something else different entirely. It's not like guys. When they say something, they actually mean that. I know you've probably heard of it, but let's just hit that refresh button on the window toolbar...

Guy: I'm gonna watch football.
Real meaning: I'm gonna watch football.

Girl: I prefer to shop at Versace's than Levi's...
Real meaning: Screw Levi's. I wanna shop at Versace's. NOW.

But one thing about girls, well they know how to break someone down gently. While guys can be extremely blunt and hurt someone's feelings, girls can do it gently. I admit girls can do that.

Why the heck am I getting off topic?

Wait. I don't have a topic to begin with anyway.

Maybe I'm being paranoid. I am quite paranoid. But that doesn't justify this, this... blue feeling. Gah.

The conclusion I can come up with from this meaningless rant... after several pointless hours of thinking and more hours of more pointless thinking... when I could've done the dishes, send my prefect blazer to the dry-clean shop or put down the toilet seat...

It all spirals out of control and all down onto my own messed up feelings which I'm relating in a this somehow-very-gay post. I can imagine Ishaq saying, ''Talking about feelings now, are we? Nice. Very gay. Very you.'' Well, just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon...

Is it because of the girl I like? I mean... I've liked her for a long time already. I dated with this hot chick from Perak to get over her. And it didn't actually work out. Broke off after a month. Maybe because long-distance-relationships don't work and because when I'm with that girl, I keep thinking of another face. Boy, Perak girl must hate my guts now.

I'm sorry Perak girl. I won't say your name to protect your interests. I don't want your friends going like, ''Oh, so that's your loser of an ex-boyfriend. Girl, you suck. Why pick a prick like him?''

And to protect my interests too. I don't want your big-bodied brother (I shit you not on that)
coming to my doorstep on a sunny Sunday afternoon with a crowbar and a gang of angry Mexican cholos carrying around Uzi submachine guns.

Anyway, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to use you as a smokescreen, that was so of an asshole of me. I don't think you can stop hating my guts, but just know I am sincerely sorry about it. KL guys ain't that reliable, you know... not actually boyfriend material.

And to that girl I like... well, you'd probably hate my guts too if you knew I was liking you. You're a great girl and I was lucky to know you. No, I'm not gonna reveal names here. That would destroy me somehow and though this girl doesn't have connections with Mexican cholos, I'd really like to bury this one with me.

I really hope I can somehow forget it and move on. And goodness help me, get these blues off me. Get the f... never mind. See ya.