New Year

Tragic Closing

I am sitting here with a copy of Utusan Malaysia, it's front page a picture of mangled bodies in Banda Acheh. The TV is fixed on CNBC, constant updates on the disaster. I thought I've heard enough of the repeated gruesome facts. But every hour seem to bring in more tragic information about this town, or that family, or some other individual barely escaping death. When will it all end? Or is this merely the beginning? A prelude to the full wrath of Allah?

I was going to pen down my thoughts on the past year and, traditionally, me resolutions for 2005 that's coming in precisely two hours from now. But all I can think of is the horrid end of 2004.

The year comes to a close with a bang, indeed. Everything that's happened, to me, clearly points to something that God wants us to see. What that is, is beyond my comprehension. At the very least, it's probably to get us back on the right track.

Could it be one of the tanda-tanda hari Qiamat?

Could it be one of the tanda-tanda akhir hari Qiamat?

If so, how much closer are we to it?

By right, I should be getting ready for my trip abroad, but I can't help thinking that it's all superficial. What good is a carefully packed luggage compared to an eternity in hell? I might not even make it to Australia. The end of the world might just come before then. I'm going down to Kota Bharu to see my grandma in a few days. Right now, that's the only thing I desperately want to do.

It seems fickle to be going about life as usual when such a disaster is still looming at our doorstep. But, as, my dad said at dinner, "Kalau dah ajal, no form of forward warning can save you. Kalau dah ajal, tak boleh elak." So true, dad. And so, it is with that in mind I resolve for the new year to:

Insya'Allah...

I will live life correctly, according to what the Quran dictates, so help me God.

Tsunami

SP and Tsunami

I wish there's more I can offer.

We had no clue on what happened until one of my dad's staff called him on the cell. He was supposed to go down to Penang and hand in some donations on behalf of the company. To the guy who lost all his five children to the giant waves. What a shocker. What a cliche.

The area worst hit was Kuala Muda, not far from where we were. Yet, life went on in SP as if nothing happened. I expected to see choppers flying in with patients from KM and ambulances blaring their sirens across town. Nope, nothing of the sort.

At first, the news seemed somewhat surreal. Tsunami? Here in Malaysia? Exactly.

An aerial video of the Penang beach showed people desperately running away from rapidly advancing waves. Some managed to escape, others disappeared beneath the seemingly harmless white foams. The wrath of mother nature, so beautiful in it's destruction.

All I can think of is how grateful I should be despite of it all.
Of all the countries hit, Malaysia still has the least number of fatalities.
Of all the countries hit, Malaysia was the farthest inland, the farthest away form the epicenter.

And also, despite of it all, I could not ignore the hints pointing to the fact that it was a massage from GOD.
Most of the major tourist attractions were severely hit (Phuket, Langkawi).
It happened on a Sunday, a day of picnicking, a day of leisure, a day of outings.
Coincidence? Perhaps.
More like providence. At least to me it is.

Sungai Petani

Tomorrow I Journey

Tomorrow I journey
to the town of SP
where I roamed young and free
where bonds of faith awaits me
where I paved a brief history
of tears, of laughter, of destiny
in the green fields of padi

Tomorrow I journey
to Sungai Petani...

Gigi

Cabut gigi.Sakit giler.

Hell. That one word singularly summerises the entire experience.

Finally the day I'd been postponing arrived. Like so many other anonymous adults of today, I hold a morbid fear of going to the dentist. The way I was whining to my mom, I was one diaper short of being a baby. But hey, this is my gums we're talking about here, not endless waves of nerveless hair or nails!

The horror began the moment the dentist said "OK, nice and wide for me please...". She said the jab would be merely a prick, but boy, it was one hell of a prick. After that, of course, I went numb but she still had to add a few more jabs of anesthetic. Turns out I have very sensitive nerves.

I can't even describe the horror of her slicing through my gums. Of course I didn't feel anything, but I can hear the scalpel scraping against my tooth. Plus I could see my reflection in her glasses. Molars, incisors, gums and all. Not a calming sight.

At some point during the minor surgery, the dentist took a break and told me to relax and not fight it. How the hell can I not, for God's sake? She was practically hacking away at my gums, picking up one brutish tool after another and prying my jaws open so wide that I thought they might get dislocated permanently. After a while, it wasn't the pain that was shaking me, it was the fear of it that weakened me so much. I could almost feel the tooth being butchered and bludgeoned out of me. I had so many things to say while all this was going on but couldn't, like "is it supposed to hurt this much, even with the anesthetic?" and "are you sure you're doing this right?" and "Hey, what's that thing you just pulled outta there??!!!"

Of course, the surgery finally came to an end when she pulled out my wisdom. Goodbye old tooth. Yes, you, the one that cropped up almost horizontally instead of vertically like the rest of your siblings, ramming the geraham next to you, therefore warranting your own demise. It's been lovely having you around, and I'm sad to have to let you go in such a healthy state. But there it is, you have to go.

*sob, sob*

Cineast

Ocean's Twelve Plus One

I'm such a sucker for multi-talented-jocks like this one.

It's been two weeks now and I still can't get him out of my head (imagine Kylie's a capela serenade of 'I Just Cant' get You Out of My Head' in the background).No, it's not Brad Pitt or any of the other heart-throbs casted in the movie.

I was utterly and most undeniably captured, enraptured, spell-bounded, by the one final scene by the ever-so-illusive Vincent Cassel a.k.a. Francois Toulour a.k.a. the Night Fox. His appearance throughout the movie was sporadic and at times doesn't include much dialogue. In the scene where he finally reveals his secret for B&E into a museum, however, Cassel literally outshines any and all, and I mean all, of the afore mentioned hotshots.

Typically, the museum is decked out with laser beams criss-crossing each other across the gallery. So, what does the suave Baron Toulour do to get past them?

He simply plugs in his ear plugs, and dances, I mean dances, to the song! It was hand-stands, back flips, somersaults, jumps and skips, across the room. It was a sort of a capoeira+breakdance+ballet+lift dancing kindofthingy without too much of hip-swaying to come off as sissy. The music really helped the entire scene pull off beautifully. Talk about multi-talented!(Gosh, I can go on and on about that dance routine for days. ) He reaches the other end of the gallery, takes a look at the laser beams, turns to walk off, jumps and clicks his heels in mid-air, Chaplin style.

*sigh*......I'm on cloud nine, people....

Shadows

Shadow. The Shadow.

Ever felt like there's a shadow that follows you around? Even when there's no sun, no light, nothing, to cast it in your direction?
Ever felt like a shadow hitches a ride at the sole of your feet and goes wherever you go, does whatever you do, sees everyone you see?
Ever felt like it's robbing you off your name, the sillhouette that takes the form of your body but never giving you credit for it?
Ever looked in a mirror and see an immitation of yourself instead of a reflection?
Ever turned around to see an echo of yourself doing the rounds, collecting applause?
Patent rights be damned, a copycat is nothing but that.

My New Best Friend

Today I met a great new friend

Who knew me right away

It was funny how she understood

All I had to say

She listened to my problems

She listened to my dreams

We talked about love and life

She'd been there too, it seems

I never once felt judged by her

She knew just how I felt

She seemed to just accept me

And all the problems I'd been dealt

She didn't interrupt me

Or need to have her say

She just listened very patiently

And didn't go away

I wanted her to understand

How much this meant to me

But as I went to hug her

Something startled me

I put my arms in front of me

And went to pull her nearer

And realized that my new best friend

Was nothing but a mirror.

Retold by Kimberly Kirberger

Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

Stupid thing

Stupid thing

Amy and I did something very stupid yesterday. This is how it happended...

We were looking for a building in KL. We didn't know where it was. We got some useful directions from a few nice ol' Pakciks. We managed to blotch that up somehow. We stopped at a gas station to ask for directions. We actually bumped into one of the Pakciks. I couldn't stop laughing so Amy explained to him how we got lost. He gave some more directions.

Then he offered us a ride. He was going in the same direction.

I was tired of walking and it was starting to rain. So after a few moments of contemplation, we got in the car. Not until after we closed the door did it crossed my mind that we were doing something irreversibly STUPID. Yeah, too late, I know.
The nice ol' Pakcik kept up a stream of small talk all the way. Amy and I never said a word to each other, but we kept exchanging worried glances the whole time. She knew what was on my mind, and I hers.

Thankfully, we got to the place safe and sound. Everything turned out ok, but we made a very stupid decision all the same. Getting into a stranger's car is stupid, regardless of the situation.

Never again.

Ever.

Tradeoff

The big deal

Life is a constant trade-off.

You can smoke but you gotta have cancer.
You can binge on that piece of cake but you gotta deal with the extra pounds.
You can fall in love but you gotta deal with the heartaches.
You can lose your temper at someone but you gotta face the gnawing regret afterwards.
You can tell a white lie but you gotta face the ones that follow.
You can get wasted tonight but you gotta have that hang-over tomorrow morning.

You can have independence but you gotta face the loneliness.

Life is a constant trade-off.

Everything comes with a price.

Work out

Ab cruncher

Working out sucks. Especially if you've lapsed for almost a year. I didn't want to start because I didn't think it would be very affective. Now I want to stop because it actually is straining my muscles.
Oh damn, it's time for another session....

Yellow

Yellow

I am so yellow. Someone jumps the queue at the post office the other day and all I did was grit my teeth. I was quite eloquent on what I'd do to the friggin lady, but it was all contained in my head, of course. Well, it wouldn't be polite of me, since the two ladies were older than me. And they were both teachers delivering SPM exam papers. Of course they'd want it to be delivered as soon as possible, right? That's probably why they forgot to take a number, right? After all, they are teachers. Why would they jump queue? It's purely inethical, something teachers don't normally do. Maybe they didn't notice that you were supposed to take a number because not all post offices have that practice. All the more reason for me to be a little bit more patient than usual, right? An added fifteen minutes' patience, that is. But that's not too long in the practice of courtesy. Plus, there is that saying, 'One good turn deserves another'. I do this now and somebody will return the favor later, right?

Oh heck, I'm such a coward!

Hassler

Hassler

The eternal optimist. That's what he is. That is what's gotten him through the break-up. Besides the controversy and the turbulence that followed, I wonder if anyone has noticed what a trooper he has been. It took me some time to realize that, too. Ever since he got dumped (unmercifully), all he's been talking about was improving himself. I wasn’t surprised to find him talking about his ex during our whole outing last Friday. What piqued my interest was that he seemed to be strongly driven now. He tells me about his future plans. He changed jobs based on what would better his prospects as a designer. He's planning to get into small-time businesses so that he'd be better equipped for the commercial aspects of architectural practice. He even has an entire outline of what he wants to achieve within the next few months! And they're all realistic and pretty objective. He talked about one of his life-long dreams and prompted me into thinking about my own dreams. My ultimate goal in life. I do have one, but that's another story. As a friend, I'm happy for him. Happy to see that he's taken the best out of the worse tragedy in his young adult life and turned it into a challenge to better himself. To the optimist, I wish you all the best. May the good times last, and the bad times make you stronger.

Medical

Medicals

For all the advances of modern medicine, there is still no solution to extracting human urine samples without scathing the esteem. And it didn't help that the bathrooms were waaayyy across the room. I was given the luxury of parading my bottle of bladder content to the entire waiting room. Kak Nani laughed into her magazine, which actually called more attention to me! The nurse attending to my check up was also interesting. She sounded irritated during the whole time. I mean, I can understand if she sounded bored, with a sick-to-death-with-my-job kind of attitude, but irritated? With me, a complete stanger? And then she actually laughed at me when I almost tripped off the weigheing scale! Go figure.

To add to the day's excitement, there was a guy who tried to hit on me. He didn't look all that bad, and I can pretty much handle the embarassment and awkwardness of the situation, but he had that added asset that completely blew me off my feet. He had this amazingly - how do I put it gently? - strong odur coming from his mouth. I don't mean to sound mean, but this is definitely one thing you should take care of at all times. I didn't want to come off as stand-offish, so I tried to answer him as best I can without overly-encouraging the conversation. I don't think I did too well, though, since he kept trying to make small talk. All I could do was pray. I almost kissed the doctor when she finally called me in!

My X-rays should be in by Monday, and they'll forward it to the Australian High Comission then. After that, it's another two weeks before I know if the Aussies'll let me in.

Now here comes the wait....*sigh*

Hearts Aflutter

Love is a thing with feathers

you see it flying, fluttering around

you reach out to it, palms grasping

but it alludes your hands, furthermore your heart

keeps you running and keeps you chasing

all the way to the end, and back to the start

you tire and you sweat, bitter tears flow

then it lands on your heart, holds your hand

takes you for a flight, and never let go....

Photo failure

Pfoto Failure

I am Shazlin's raging disappointment.

I was so hoping some spectacualr shots from our picnic today, but most came out mediocre.

I guess I am one of those who have to shoot a hundred shots to get one good photo.

Actually, I don't mind that very much. I'm just afraid that failure after bleeding failure will wear me down to the point of giving up.

I am Shazlin's frail determination.

I wish I had the magic touch, like some others. Their photos just seem to come out best in whatever light, whatever angle. The outcomes of my photos seem to depend more on my surroundings, rather than my abilities, my talents. Or do I actually have any?

I am Shazlin's illusive, perhaps non-existant talent.

I am past questioning my motives for endeavoring in this field, I am quite clear on that. I just need to persist a little longer, drive a little further. The whole set might not come out great, but there's always a gem here and there that needs a little digging up. I hope.

I am Shazlin's hope, sometimes fading, other times overshadowed, but always, always there.

Raya Blues

Raya Blues

End of the first day of Eid at home. Almost got off to a bad start with Mama ringing her alarm a little too early in the morning. But things got off just fine after that.
The ketupat was a bit of a disappointment, the kuah kacang was spectacular, the nasi tomato and ayam masak merah rendered me speechless.
I have to admit, the only thing significant today was the change in food. We didn't see the need to extravagantly do up the house, just some extensive cleaning. While we watched TV and waited for the menfolk to return from Raya prayers, I sensed an air of sterility in the living room. Thanks to Kak Nani's polishing and scrubbing. The delicious smell of food is accredited to me!
We pushed off to Mak Chak's house. All of Feizal's siblings were there except for Bai Ali. Kak Syikin surprised me by asking about my plans to study in Australia. I've only met her once before, when she was pregnant with Tasya. We went on to a very nice conversation, one that regrettably ended due to too many people in too small a space. I still regret not talking to her more. Her little girl Tasya is an absolute doll. I was also quite happy to see Bai Fadzil, I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe it was his jubah and nondescript white kopiah that made him appear humble, more approachable for a conversation, although I didn't quite like his somewhat detached wife.
We moved on to auntie Jah's house, where another overwhelming welcome awaits us. How and why my parents came to be such close friends with her and Uncle Hashim is still a little foggy to me. But I can see that auntie Jah adores my mum like a sister. Sadly, I do not think that the ties bonded now will continue to live between her children and my siblings. While our parents are tight, Kak Nani and I hardly know auntie Jah's grown children. There is promise of a remedy for this, provided I enlist the help of auntie Jah's son, Hatta, when I go to Brisbane next year.
I'm still fervently praying for that to come true this time.
Some of auntie Jah's relatives arrived while we were there. I was touched to see how she persuaded my parents to stay longer, even then. These are precious friends, indeed. Suddenly, I feel urged to continue the ties for my parents' sake.
We finally drove home at four pm, with everyone asleep pretty much all the way home.
It's been a simple and quiet Raya this year, today.

Clothe thee

I know my mom sometimes balks at the way I dress. It amuses me, how she frets about how I look to others. It's not that I don't care. I just can't be bothered to get all dressed up for the grocers' or the lady at the laundromat. Being a female, I do have the desire to look good, but not all the time. Comfort comes first and formost for me, always.
I went through a sort of morphosis during my early varsity days. I started off with wanting to look good, but not exactly knowing how. I occasionally fell into the trap of dressing too comfortably that I tend to be sloppy.
Later, as I learned the tricks and turns of the trends, I found myself concerned with nothing but that - trends. Many a times I found myself looking quite uniformed to some others. That is something my ego utterly despised.
Finally, now, I am completely comfortable with myself. I dress according to how I want to look and feel. Trends do not play much of a role for me, neither is peer pressure. The only conditions I strive to fulfill are those of my religion.
I hope I never break those rules, no matter what the temptations might be.
I can't say that I am at a final phase of my personal fashion trend (everbody has one, by the way) but I am definitely comfortable with the stage I am at.

Daddy Dearest

I'm so glad my dad's gotten his health back. He got so sick, I started to get worried.

Not for no reason, too. For starters, my dad almost NEVER falls sick. But he did as soon as he got back from wretched Singapore. And he stayed sick for almost a week, and kept getting worse. I had a sinking feeling that the cold he was running might actually be something serious. Some underlying illness that's been repressed for too long. Being my paranoid self, I started imagining the worse scenario.

What if it was cancer?

What if he *gasp* passed away? (Na'uzubillah...)

What if..what if...

Selfishly, I wondered on how his absence would affect my future. I would definitely have to postpone any and all of my plans for studying abroad, or even studying at all. I'll work to help support my mom support the family. We'll probably have to sell off one of our cars and move some place cheaper. Maybe back to Sungai Petani, where life's easy and the people are great. I could consider earning my degree through SPACE. That way, I can study and earn a living at the same time.

Hmm...not a bad plan.

But then, my dad's fine now. Turns out it was just a sensitive nasal tract, which gets irritated very easily. Thank God. Alhamdulillah.

I may complain about him a lot, but my dad is everything to this family.

I thank God for reminding me of that fact.

Laws of Newton

The actions of others often have unremitting repercussions on me. I often think that I have a lot of confidence and stability in myself that I could not, would not be affected by what others do, but the truth speaks otherwise. Some peace of mind is what I am looking for, always.

Wake up, Shazlin! The universe does not evolve around you.

The Big Spill

The Big Spill

When I first started this blog, I thought it would be, among others, an escape.

Someplace I can spill my guts when I can't talk to any of my usual confidants.

I thought this would be my last resort.

Someplace I can say all of my worst fears and sadness to a pair of listening ears without being judged as pathetic or helpless.

But then I remembered, as few visitors as there are here, they are, never the less, people I know.

And so I am forced conceal some, if not all, of what's in my heart and my head.

Yes, damnit, what I am saying is that I have something to get off my chest and I've got nowhere to do it. Not even here, in a blog of my own creation. Perhaps I should have an anonymous blog elsewhere.

Hmm....now there's a thought....

Freak of Nature

Freak of Nature

Uh oh, there he is.

Damn, he caught my eye! Against my will. Now I have no escape.

I look around at my friends but they all seem to be engaged in some business or other.

Please God, let me get out of this alive!

He starts with a slow gait, as if getting to me was the last thing he intended to do. Turns and waves at somebody.

Oh, please drop the act coz you're not fooling anybody, much less me.

He leans a hand on the post, the other lands on his hip. Left foot crossed over right. A stupid grin spreads across his face, flashing 80% of his pearly whites.

Let me guess; this must be his chosen pose for the semester, meant to melt hearts and spread endless charm. Ugh, puh-leeeasse!

"So, shawty, how's it hangin mama!" Another flash of smile, 100% teeth.

Ugh.....shawty? Right.

Yuck.

Adios

Adios

*sigh*...

There's nothing like the loss of a friend....and one who's moved on, too. I just wish the innitial blow was more subtle, then I'd feel less like a loser all over again.

In the famous words of the infamous American pioneer,"I'll have to deal with this in my own time."

Hairdo's Don'ts

Hairdo's Don'ts

I swear, there is nothing more liberating than a new haircut. I often read that a new haircut on any women signifies a major change in her life, namely a new found love, or a new intersest, a new direction in life, a new resolution, etc. As for me, I simply needed a change in my somewhat currentlt stagnant state of being. I hadn't exactly planned on it either. In fact, I was on a mission to save my locks for as long as possible, but when my mom asked if I wanted to join her at the salon, I found my head eagerly bobbing up and down.

Of all the salons I've been to, J&M has to be the best yet. The owner (a lady whose name I can never seem to store in my memory) always greets us with a smile and an offer of her Chinese tea ( which I drink solely out of respect for her, not for the taste). Thankfully, she'll be attending to me for today, since it's always easier to relate what I want to her, as compared to the new girls.

The shampoo girl must be new. The way she's working my scalp, it'll be flake free for the rest of the year, I'm sure. Just when I was about ready to beg her to stop, she taps my shoulder and directed me to the wash basin. Now here comes the scissors and comb. I decided to go for something radical this time. Boy, I'm really hard up for change! I can see my mom glancing sideways nervously at me. Oh well, what's life if you don't live on the wild side every once in a while, right?

Hakim

Hakim

My baby brother turned double digits yesterday. I bought him Lemony Snickett’s Book the Seventh, adding to his collection, something I knew he’d like. The way he calmly thanked everybody made me wonder if that was the right gift for him, he seemed so grown up.

I miss the little brat who used to bug me to go riding with him. Now he goes of cycling with his buddies. Same goes with swimming, playing tag, etc. He doesn’t need me to read him bedtime stories anymore. Now he turns on my reading light and reads himself. I miss his little giggles, his chubby little fingers and stubby toes.

My baby bro’s a big boy now.

All those years gone by, where did they go?

as I was 

as i am 

Major Success, major blunder.

I've finally managed to change the skin, phew! It took a lot of tries and a lot of frustration. Well that is expected, since I chose to plunge into this endeavour all by myself. There isn't really anyone around to help either. Anywho, I think I've got the hang of it. The basics, I mean - changing features, links, headers, etc. However, I have somehow removed the link for posting comments. I've been trying to fix that, but to no avail. Damn. Well, this ain't the end of it. I'll be back, hopefully, with the comments link. Ciao.

What's In A Name?

Nothing to blog for today so....

I went on a "Shazlin-hunt" on the net. Among the interesting finds (besides the dozen or so blogs by people of the same name and bumping into my fotoblog a few times) is this Kabalarian Philosophy site. I think it's Jewish (Kabala-rian), but what the heck, I'll just do it for fun.

"Description of Your First Name of: Shazlin

Although the name Shazlin creates the urge to be creative, independent, and self-sufficient, we point out that it causes a materialistic, somewhat self-opinionated approach that frustrates higher humanitarian qualities. This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the reproductive organs, and tension or accidents to the head.

The name Shazlin creates a very independent, practical, analytical nature with skillful business abilities. You desire freedom from restrictions and authority in order that you can pursue your own ambitions. This name gives you leadership qualities and you are seldom happy in positions where you must direction from others. Material and financial success are the focus of your interests, but sacrificing much for material ambition will result in a lack of harmony and balance in your personal life, particularly a lack of appreciation for social courtesies and things of a more inspirational nature."

I think it's a load of bull, though.

It's you who makes the name, not the other way around. Of course, in Islam, a name does have an effect on an individual's personality, but to this detailed extent? I don't think so.

It's just plain ridiculous to me.

Regrets, more regrets, damn regrets.

Why can't I seem to say, do the right thing at the right moment?

I am always looking back on some incident wishing I'd said something more, or something better, or just said something. But that moment is past and it's a done deed. No joy in that.

Would it have made things any better if I'd been prepared with the right speech, the right response, the right reaction? Perhaps things were meant to turn out the way they did, and any intervention in that order would have disrupted the reality of how things happen.

It's like that phonecall. That single phonecall is what I look forward to each week. Yet, everytime my phone rings and that number appears, I dread even picking it up. Not because I didn't want to speak to the person at the other end of the line. No, not at all. But because after each call, I'd regret the whole conversation. I'd regret not having said what I should have said, what I actually meant to say, or having said too much and revealing too much of what I wanted kept hidden. Everytime I hung up the phone, there was this queesy feeling of having made all those mistakes and what the consequences will be.

Maybe the issue here is honesty. If I'd been simply honest, I might not have had to be so guarded about myself.

But then, if I don't guard my own sanctity, who will?

Maggots!!

What a nice thing to wake up to.
I was still in a haze, preparing breakfast in the final hours of dawn, when I noticed the ants.
There were clusters of them on the floor in the utility room. Upon tracing their little trail, I discovered the cause for their communion - nasty maggots.
I was purely disgusted to the highest degree! My mother has been out of town since Monday, hence not much cooking has been done, hence less garbage. I remebered that the last time anyone has taken the garbage out was last Tuesday. Yuck. Now it's infested with maggots and I have to clean it up.
The first thing I did was to spray those little infesting freaks with enough insecticide to for them to swim in. They were all over the place, causing me to swear enough for God to keep me in hell for all eternity (I have fully repented since then, I swear). Then I left them to marinate in it for a few hours, to make sure they are all R.I.P.
Next came the task of cleaning up the dead bodies. The broom and dust pan came in very handy for this. I got chills up and down my spine just feeling them roll around in the dust pan. Purely disgusting.
A few more of them appeared an hour ago and got picked up with wads of tissue paper instead, less painful, maybe. I seem to have become immune to them. There is, however, this permanent grimace stuck on my face.
Damn those maggots. I'm sure those creepy crawlies play some kind of role on earth, but I sure as hell don't see it.
I personally prefer them banished to the core of the planet.
Yuck.

This and that

*sigh*Another boring day. My dad suggested that I go to the library, grab a book, have coffee somewhere, treat my soul. He's afraid I might have abandoned my reading habit. It's not a habit, dad, it's a hobby. He's unaware that I spend at least half-an-hour every night reading before I go to bed. I decide to do up my hair and traipse around the house in a pretty lil' dress instead. Makes me feel absolutely shallow,like Paris Hilton on the farm, minus the the starve-yourself-to-death figure and the dirty blonde hair. I love my jet-black hair. I think it's a blessing that Asians are naturally born with black hair. I don't think any other hair colour would've looked good on Asian skin. In fact, I personally think black is the all-true hair colour for any skin colour. Except for maybe those born with the pasty-white-but-not-quite-dead complexion. Black would probably enhance their death-like appearance.
Hmm...duty calls. Suddenly, I seem to have a lot to say from a day spent doing nothing.*Point to ponder*

Jagged little pill

When I failed to get into the degree course with the rest of my friends, many took it as a surprise (I know some thought it to be fully deserving).

"Hah, tak dapat? Apesal plak?" At times it was a source of pride, most times, a source of mortification. There's nothing like being reminded of your failure (at least) ten times a day and having to explain yourself, over the phone, online, in the face.

I must admit, I had my sights set on other nations as the venue of my next alma matter. As I watched my chances of getting into the skool get thinner, my resolve to 'fly' got stronger. But it is, nonetheless, a failure on my part, on not making the list.

I made the mistake of meeting them all on the registration day. Stupid. Everyone was inevitably busy filling in forms, choosing subjects, moving in, finding roomies. They tried to include me in all of it, I was grateful for that. But mean is mean. I felt left out all the same.

In the following weeks, they tried keeping me in the loop, as much as they can. Did they feel sorry for me? God, I hope not.

Gossips filled my inbox on a daily basis. It was almost like old times, except I wasn't there. In the beginning it was easy to imagine I was still part of things, I can still keep up despite the distance. After a while, I got tired, they got busy.

When Amy told me they were goin to the beach after exams were over, going bowling, etc., my first impulse was to run down there and join in the fun. I still want to.

But then I realized, I am not part of that anymore. I still want to be, they still try to make me, but reality doesn't agree. I guess that's the dilemma here. My dilemma. To be part of something. What? The answer to that, I can't figure out yet.

Sure, I am doing something here, a little bit of something. But it doesn't beat the comfort of companionship.

Maybe that's what's bothering me so much.

Loneliness.

Tioman Island Escapade

Wrecked

Today will go down in my history as the most nerve-wrecking-in-a-single-moment day of my life. For ever. Today I had my very first car-crash since I got my driver's license four-plus years ago. After four years of peaceful, somewhat safe driving, (dotted here and there with minor scratches and near-collisions) I've finally earned my rites of passage, stepped over the threshold into drivers' adulthood. Right now, hours after the unfortunate event, I'm willing to swear that this singular accident is enough to keep me sober on the road for the rest of my life.

Looking back, I can see a dozen ways how this accident could've been avoided. I could've left home a bit sooner, or a bit later. I could've waited for the car to pass and make a left like I usually do, instead of being impatient and making a right to rush things (unreasonably, now that I think about it). The first few seconds after my car effectively grazed the passing Camry, the only thought that came to my mind was, "Oh GOD, is this real? This MUST be a dream. This can't be real. Is this really happening? Oh GOD, it is! IT IS! Oh GOD. OH GOD," I could've gone on forever (I guess this is what they call 'eternity in a single moment') The blood rushed up to my face and I could actually feel it expand, sideways. My hands were seriously SHAKING.

(I know all this sounds terribly cliched but, trust me, this is what actually happened!)

While I waited the dreadfully long five minutes before my dad came to the rescue, the only thought crossing my mind was that I had committed some serious, sinful offence and I was being punished for it. The truth of it I shall never find out and will last to serve as a reminder for me for at least the next five years.

e+nani

Celebrating myself - the uncontented one

[Photo courtesy of Esyaque]

If only I can find a way
to love myself for all that I am
despite the faults
or perhaps, for the faults
I would be a contented person.

If only I can find a way
to paint a picture
free of influences
that satisfies no one but myself
I would be a contented person.

If only I can find a way
to pen down my thoughts
and let others read it and be judged
and not have a care for their verdicts
I would be a contented person.

If only I can find a way
to contend myself
with all that I am,
all that I can do,
to paint and to pen,
and be not judgmental upon myself,
I would be a contented person.

A tribute to Miss Anne

"We need time to dream,
time to remember,
time to reach the infinite.
Time to be."

~Gladys Taber

I couldn't imagine a better quote to remember Miss Anne Shirley by.

From Green Gables to Avonlea

Dear Miss Anne (spelled with an ‘e’) Shirley,

It is wonderful to make your acquaintance once again. It has been a dreadfully long while since I last saw the likes of you in Green Gables. I see that you have come to sprinkle your touch on the whole of Avonlea this time! I have missed your old friends, your bosom friends Diana Barry, Jane Andrews and Gilbert Blythe. Also your little adventures down the Birch Path, past the Fairies’ Pond, through The Haunted Woods, up Lovers’ Lane and finally home at Green Gables, where Marilla, sweet, old Marilla Cuthbert, waits for you, ready for another story of the day’s happenings.
I am quite tickled to see that you are still enraged at any mention of your fiery red hair. Pardon me, that’s auburn now. I am sure that it is now the handsomest shade of auburn that you have always hoped it would be. By the way, have those dimples in your elbows turned up?

I notice an increasing mention of Gilbert’s name in your many conversations. I smell romance brewing between the two of you. It may be late in coming, but it’s arrival is just as sure as any of your misgivings for calamity. Oh yes, yes of course, the two of you are the bosomest of friends!
I have so far enjoyed the recount of your first day as Avonlea’s school teacher. Worry not, dear Miss Anne, the children will, in time, come to adore you once they see how dedicated you are to their education and well-being. And if that Jonathan Pye boy never comes to like you, don’t fret too much, for the Pyes have not the slightest liking for anyone else but themselves!

I am thoroughly impressed with your vision of the A.V.I.S. I think it is a splendid idea and wish you all the luck. Avonlea is a wonderful place, but it can use some improvements here and there. Old Mrs. Rachel Lynn will come to support your intentions, Anne, and if she doesn’t, you shouldn’t have to worry of her going against you, for the old lady is more fond of you than she lets on!

I’m afraid I must end my correspondence here, for there are urgent matters at hand. I anxiously turn the pages for your next foray into adventure (or mishap!) in quiet little Avonlea.

Till then, I remain your most devoted friend and truest fan.

Take Me Nowhere

"What's it for?"

This state of being jobless and vocation-less is driving my motivation down. I feel I have no direction. Nothing is for certain. And that covers all issues - occupation, education, friends, good friends, myself.....
For a person who's always been driven to succeed, to achieve something, this state of limbo is wearing me down....
Will I be able to bring myself back up again when it matters? Time will tell....
In the meantime, allow me to return to my slumber as the world, with everything and everyone else in it, move on without my presence.....
I am spam.
I am void.
I will not be missed.

Qiamat

Chaos. I was running around like everyone else. Neighbours next door came up with the idea of making crucifix with anything they can get their hands on. We're Muslims. Would 'Allah' on a piece of board suffice? I grab my denims from the clothes hanger at the door, chose a scarf,and rushed to get dressed. Does it matter if my clothes match?
Ya'jud and Ma'jud were coming.
Omar and Abah came back with the news. The eleventh hour is up. They would be here any minute. Omar keep going on about how the insides of our car was scratched through, scratched from inside. My blood runs cold.I try to tell Omar that it's too late for a shower. Just get dressed and be ready. I grab a butter knife and a fork and shove it into my pockets, muttering praises to Allah, hoping, praying for protection. I was shaking with fear.
I have no idea what we were up against. None of us are, not even Mama. This is a part of the chain of events leading up to jugdment day, I know that. Are we going to live through it? Should we fight this coming evil with force or diplomacy? Physical strength or religious submission?
I look out the window to catch the shadow sweeping the entire earth. A man standing alone looks at his feet, confused.
They are here. Run.
Mama stands behind the door instead of going to hide in the room with me. She bravely tells me that she will face whatever is coming head-on. We both know it, neither of us said it. She was going to die and she's using herself as a shield for the rest of us. Good bye, Mama.
Mama, of all things, laughs at me. She tells me there's nothing to be afraid of, we don't even exactly know what we're up against. Might not even be as bad as it seems. From the way I'm shaking, I might as well be dead already. The house grows dark.I wanted so much to believe her. I look in the mirror and prayed hard that any minute, I'd wake up from this nightmare. But it's like praying for rain when you know, most definitely, there's no chance of rain whatsoever and you'll just have to weather the scorching sun no matter what.
This is real. It is no dream.
I watch the corridor for signs of their approach. They are here.
And I wake up, predictably, to the setting sun....
Alhamdulillah....

Draught

.
I place myself in front of the pc, poise my fingers over the keyboard, take a deep, deep breath, close my eyes briefly,
and bring my fingers down with a torrent of words for this week's entry....
And I am sadly disappointed.
By myself.

I wish I could write like Amy Tan and Johanna Krintiensen, reflect on the simple miracles of life called relationships, share it with others and make an enormous impact in other people's lives.
Well, maybe it's a bit far-reaching, but I used to write a lot, words seemed to spill out of me with no regards towards what others think and how they might judge me for it. It was a joy to see in words what I had swimming in my head.

Now nothing comes out without consent from the observing public. Nothing goes uncritisized.
When did I become so intent upon satisfying others, all but myself, my want, my relish? When did I become so concerned about being judged, now, later, for what I choose to express about myself, for expressing myself?

It must be this environment I am in. The walls restict me from roaming far from what is reality. The windows gives me a narrowed glimpse into what could be, but never how. The cold floor remind me again and again that there are those who will not approve of this verbal tantrum.

I wish I was in Aryani. The beuatiful idea of the little timber house all to myself. No one to bother me with their unasked-for opinions, nothing but the lone pot o' bougainvilla on the verandah to keep me company should I ever get too lonesome, if ever. The timber floors gives me all the space I need, the sea breeze fleeting through the window, lifting my hair of my shoulders.

What bliss......

Back to UTM - Day 1

I've forgotten how much I miss the company of my friends,
even the most casual ones.
I couldn't help getting a bit reminiscent,
going through the gates of UTM.
Reflecting on the good times and better times,
and how they can never happen again.

Me, Anum and Echa stopped at the Pasar Rabu,
Got some jagung bakar and some drinks,
Sat down by the lake to watch kayakkers,
Happy couples and day-time buddies,
Had some fun playing hookie,
While the sun goes down, in muted beauty.

It's been a perfect day.

Terrible Dream

I'm feeling rather ragged.
I'm feeling rather rough.
I'm looking like I stayed up late,
and didn't sleep enough.
I went to sleep at bedtime
and dreamt all through the night,
but when I woke this morning
I was feeling far from right.
For though I drifted quickly,
and slumbered long and deep,
I'm totally exhausted
'cause I dreamed I couldn't sleep!

--Kenn Nesbitt

I am young (re:naive and clueless), therefore I think.....

I am young, therefore I think.....

There is no half-way-state,
Everything is in black and white,
Something is either wrong or right,
If it is wrong, then it should never happen,
One either have principles or you don't,
If one does, there's no reason not to live by them.


I am young, therefore I think.....

Parents are actually not perfect,
They make mistakes (despite everything they've learned)
Mistakes which I will NEVER make,
They make bad choices sometimes, (often out of trying to do the best)
I would never make the same choices they did,
Any choices I've made will be better because I've LEARNED from them.


I am young, therefore I think.....

My parents are the strongest,
After all they've been through to keep living, and living it well,
My parents are the wisest,
For all the wisdom they have and choose to reveal when the time is right for me to learn,
My parents are the most patient people,
For putting up with my passionate arguments that are often lacking in experience.

If I were a sponge soaking up the colours of their love, I'd be dripping rainbows rite now.

Sleep in my eyes

What is this curse of coming to consciousness that plagues me(and, hopefully, every other human being) every morning?


Awake = predict. Adj. aroused from sleep, ~ to, aware of,

Asleep = adv. & predict. Adj. 1. condition in which the eyes are closed, the muscles, the nerves, etc. become relaxed 2. (of the arms and legs) without feeling (as when under pressure)

WAKING UP = a half-way-place where you know you’ve had enough and that it’s time to get a move on but at the same time it also makes sense to drift off and continue to indulge in that delicious, mysterious and illusive thing called SLEEP

::friendly colours::

Kak Ila's shot

baby steps

I'm posting my first blog
it takes baby steps to build a good one,
....or so I was told.

I'm opening my labrynth of emotions and thoughts
to strangers and, much worse,
to people whose opinion matters to me most.
...baby steps to not caring.

Allahu'akbar

I was told....

Allah answers prayers in three ways :-

Allah says YES and gives you what you want
Allah says NO and gives you something better
Allah says WAIT and gives you the BEST in good time...

how true.

now that I have that wisdom,
all I need is the patience.
Godhelpme.....