Temporary | False

In the lights I saw hope. When I picked up my pace and chased the bright. My heart raced of excitement from the glimpse that would save me. From the semi permanent darkness that was surrounding me.

Every pain suffered, forgotten. I raced through time, worried that the light would disappear. Hopeful. Excited.

A split tunnel ahead with one to the doom and the other unknown. One wrong turn and I'd miss the light.

I closed my eyes and took a leap. Which route i took, i was confused. I braved myself with a positive tone.

But the deeper I went, the darker it was. Did I take the wrong turn?

Love deprived. I yearned for light. Only shadows surrounding.

Which turn I took? Only God knows.

Have mercy on me, as I'm only Your slave. Desperate to be loved. By the people I love.

Mid 2018

The first line is always about time. The first line is always an apology for being on hiatus. 

I seriously just realised that I haven't posted anything this year. And it has already come to the middle of the year. How time flies, as always. 

A lot has changed. 

I finally jumped off the H2GO ship and came back swimmingly to a pharmaceutical company, under the same wings as Idalyn.

I am now in a relationship with a guy I randomly met off the net since the beginning of the year. It's been an interesting journey so far. Though I am still coping to juggle between the new job, the fresh relationship, and needless to say, Mama.

Time has always been an issue lately. I seem not to have that much of time every day. I have been having less sleep, more than usual. I am always tired in the morning, but everything is really worth it. I love him, he loves, that's all that matters. 

Malaysia has finally voted for a new government. Malaysia Baru we call it. I am very proud to be part of this change. I voted, I did my part and now let's just see if the new government can save the country. 

My relationship with 'KL' is still blurry. We are talking now. But that's all there is. 

Good bye.

The Art of Saying No

I have lost the person I often confided in. Veritably, it was hard for me to sink that fact in, but today, I abide. Soforth, I shall have to lift up my heavy figure on my own. As there's no one who has the patience to withstand my ordeals no longer.  

These past few weeks, I have begun to master the art of saying 'NO'. I'm usually the 'yes sir' type of person. Lately, the word has swift through these lips quite often. This transition is transpired from the running disappointments with the family.

Half of my life has been about accommodating my family convenience. Come on, I'm a 30 year old woman who is still staying under the same roof with her parents. What does that say to you? I pretty hope it translated to an independent woman being responsible for her parents. Because that is what my current life is focused on. 

I really want to be one of those anak mithalis, I strongly do. But what's prevailing is not giving me an easy pass. It's frustrating. 

I want my weekends to be mine.

I want to wake up late in the afternoon and not tempered by the sound of a man bickering every chance he gets with me.

I want to earn plenty so Mom can chill more.

I want to take up courses, another Degree or better yet a Master in English or E-commerce. 

I want so many things in life.

But this life is not mine. It's not mine. It was never mine. It is not today. It is not tomorrow. 

xx, 

depression talk.

Closer

It's the end of April.

I'm starting to notice that my thoughts here often start with time. If you're looking for a dramatic back story, sorry to disappoint, I have none. All I can tell you when it comes to time, I am very rigid.

Proud. Not proud. Couldn't careless.

I've been too busy. Too busy to even breathe. And it irks me because I need more time.

I'd like to rewrite my entries during the trip to Hatyai. But Time wouldn't allow me.

My writings are usually monotonous. I know. I'm not sorry.

If only I have more time.

Bleep Bloop

You know what they say bout 'Time is Gold'? Well, time is really gold to me. I love how my 2017 is running. I am blessed with jobs which are driving me to my dreams. I wanted to post my travel journals during my recent solo trip, but time isn't on my side yet.  Soon, I will. 

What are my dreams you asked? See, there was an ad that kept oplaying on TV. I remember watching Fernleaf running in between programmes. The scene was a woman acting as a reporter standing in front of hundreds of cows. And those cows were so huge! Taller than a human. Can you imagine that? Naturally, the scene originated from New Zealand. I had never been so awed (I was no older than 10, so give me a break). I promised myself ever since that I'm gonna fly myself and see those cows myself.

And so I will. I'll be flying to New Zealand in September. Weeee. Dreams do come true, but not without hard work. Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah. 

Brain Language

January has crept out unnoticed.

Silly me, can't even finalize the ultimate '30' resolutions. I can tell you something obvious though, I haven't achieved flies the past 30 years. At least not to my standard.

Pity to think about it. But I am really trying to dismiss this self-pity attitude I've unwittingly infused to myself.

Which led to a decision. The good kind, don't worry. One day I woke up and decided that my legs are 60% healed and I should start driving Uber again. So I did. I called the (car) insurance company, got my cover note, uploaded to my Uber account and a couple of hours later, I was good to go. I started immediately after (office) work, the same day.

I've been driving a week now. I like what I'm seeing in my bank account. Enough to survive me 4 nights in Hat Yai, which is where I'm heading to next week.

I'm also planning to get tickets to Japan for Mama.

And more excitedly, New Zealand for me! But I'm still feeling fuzzy about this. But that will be a different post entirely.

Driving an African student around Cyberjaya a couple of nights ago got me into a familiar conversation:

Dude: So what are you?

Me: What am I?

Dude: Like, are you Malay?

Me: Yeap. I am.

Dude: Pure Malay?

Me: Uh huh.Dude: Pure Malay? Not Chinese mixed?

Me: Nope. Purely Malay (though I'm not, considering that I have Javanese, Boyanese and I'm pretty sure there's Arab somewhere along my bloodline but I'm no King Coco. So let's just go with pure Malay) Errr...Why?

Dude: No, it's your English. (I wish his answer was 'it's your look' but who am I kidding.) Malays are usually terrible in English.

Me: Well, I can't disagree.

This cliche conversation of Malays and English language is unfortunately not my first, and I bet it's not gonna be the last.

Sad.

Sad because we have been stereotyped as such. And to be a hijabi and a Malay the same time, it puts you on the lower strata. You have no idea how low minded they have set us to be. 'They' as in the society in general.

A Tell-Me-About-Yourself

I am a 29 year old woman (still trying to grasp that - woman) who's living a care-free life, well at least by my definition. I keep my life active and occupied as much as I could mostly by hiking, reading, travelling and of course, spending time with my family.  I am always open for an adventure regardless if it’s as simple as taking a KL tour or as extreme as sky diving off a plane (which I haven’t done anyways). I want to be able to learn and see the creation of Allah swt around the globe before I die. 

I come from a family of 3 sisters, a person who is unfortunately doomed with the second child syndrome. I live in a condominium unit with 2 parents - a strong-hearted mom who’s responsible for the (good) person I am today and a dad who’s an old man working as a property agent. My elder sister is a young mom with 3 kids and these tiny humans are the ones filling my world with rainbows and butterflies. Did I mention that I adore kids since I myself was one? And there’s my younger sibling who’s pursuing her future as an engineering student in Sapporo, Japan.

I was born in Singapore. Too many people had asked why I would leave such an amazing (and stable) country. It's not by choice, okay. I may have been born in that city, but the first few years of my life was spent in Sydney, Australia. I came back to Singapore for another few years before Dad decided to migrate the whole family to Malaysia. I've been here ever since.

My personality is somewhere between simple and complex. I laugh, but I mope too. I multitask, but I am (really) forgetful. I have high life expectations, but I am easily demotivated. I am of many things that I’m still trying to discover myself.

One thing for sure is I do not favour coffee, not at all. The bitterness that it leaves on my taste buds is absolutely unacceptable. I am utterly confused by those who made coffee a passion. Yes, I do hunt out for coffee spots, but only for the ambiance. Nothing more than a place for me to chill, read and blast some good music. I am more of a chocolate person. Hand me a bar of chocolate, umph, I’ll be beaming the rest of the day!

F For Fatigue

A black pitch hole
And a maximum vacuum

A heart that is weak
Yearn to be stoned

A figure translucent
Bottled up soul

F is for Fatigue
Weary of life

Mockery

What dya know. It speaks my heart! Hah!

A Little Life (pg 135)

I have become lost to the world
In which I otherwise wasted so much time
It means nothing to me
Whether the world believes me dead
I can hardly say anything to refute it
For truly, I am no longer a part of the world.

Black

I am desperate. I would do anything to get my knee back to normal. 6 months have passed since the arthroscopy. I am recovering, Alhamdulillah. But it's not as fast I want it to be.

My workout list the past 5 days:

• Sunday - Hiking at Bukit Saga
• Monday - Rest due to migrain
• Tuesday - Body Attack and Leg workout
• Wednesday - Zumba

And today, Thursday, my right knee has been throbbing like HELL. Saddest part is I can't tell anyone about it because they would just make me stop all my routines. And..and... last Sunday was my first hike. Can't say that I'm not proud of myself. I made it to and fro safely without a scratch *tap on the shoulder*. Unfortunately, I made a mistake during bodyattack class. I confidently did burpees and hurt my knee since (it was already so sore from the hike). For a second, I thought I was Superwoman! LoL. 

Oh you knee, let me have my life back. 

Just

Things that I wanna do and things that I need to do often conflicted. 

Or the things that I want and the things that I need. 

What I need is to be someone who is far from what I am presently. The person that I need to be lives a little far from worldly things. Like the clothes I currently don or the food places I usually go. A woman who is pious, a wife with a husband who would take the adventurous journey to Jannah, together. And kids. Yeah of course there would be kids. Two or three. 

But, I wanna be among my unmarried friends, have fun, travel the world with less responsibilities. No kids to hustle me down, no parents to worry about, no problems to care of. A carefree life. Where would that bring me though. Surely, God doesn't approve half of the things that I want. 

And if God doesn't condone it then my mission to Jannah would be .... non existent. Perished. Ka poof. 

Turning 30 scares me shitless. And I'm about 6 months away from there. I never cared much about how old I've aged except now. I guess I've always imagined that by 30 I'd be someone's legal partner, be successful, have my own business, have at least travelled quarter through the globe. I kid you not, I'm wayyyyy off the acceptable general life target.

Most of the time I don't mind where I am now. But other times, peer pressure memang no joke siot.

Like I said. Conflicted. 

Blog

Turns out, sitting long hours in front of the computer screen is no longer something I would enjoy. Ironically, that was something I didn't mind doing during my teenage life (age of 14 to 20ish). I'd spend the night til the next noon exchanging nonsense via mirc, ym, msn and blogs. Did I mention I was using dial-up internet then?

Of course there was also the backache that I had to endure. But hey, anything for some puppy love and virtual best friends right?

Being said that, it's now a huge commitment to spend just minutes to update a blog. I mean, I'd rather be spending it on reading instead.  I've even stopped watching all my TV series. It's been on halt for quite a while, and I used to call myself a TV series buff. Shame on me? Not quite.

Ok go to. I'm 100 pages left on Paper Town by John Green. Ciao.

Missed

So there's this guy I'm seeing. Well of course there's a guy.

I've met him the first time last night for iftar. I guess you could say that it was a date. More or less.

But here's the thing, i keep saying the wrong things. Like as if i can't shut this big mouth of mine.

Fuck.

Misery to Happiness

O my God, whenever You bestow a favour upon me, my appreciation thereof is minute; and whenever You afflict me with tribulation, my patience is short-lived. O One Whom though my appreciation of His favour is minute, He did not humiliate me, O One with Who though my patience is short-lived at His trial He did not punish me. O One Who sees me while in sin and does not expose me, O One Who removed me my hurt, to You be praise, You are the Bestower of Favour and to You is grace. 

Amin ya Rabb.

Me Before You

I'm the sort of person who tries not to watch movies (in cinema) during Ramadhan, which means, I am left with 4 days to date. Hence, the me-time-Me-Before-You-movie-session last night. You have to know I skipped gym for this! GYM! In the middle of NNGG!

I picked up Me Before You (novel) just a couple of weeks back. An easy read chic lit I managed to finish in 2 days. It's not my usual reading choice, but I figured to give a go since everyone else is reading it. Plus, the reviews are not bad either. 

I got hooked immediately after the first page. And just between me and you, I almost weeped on the final page.  Crying is my least favourite emotion. I'm not sure if it's fear or just plainly ego, but I'll try my very best to keep my waterworks clogged in. So I could say, this is partly the reason I stopped reading romance novels some time after 20. Booyah.

The impossible romance between Lou and Will arouses me in ways that I can't explain. It brings me fantasies that I can never imagine to have myself. But of course I am not talking about coition (if you have seen or read it, you'd know it's PG13). It's... ah.... I just can't put it into words. I don't feel this way often. The feelings are almost similar to The Time Traveller's Wife by Audry Niffenegger.

The most memorable part of the novel is when Lou freaked out in the maze and Will tried to calm her down.  He got so frustrated because his hands weren't moving to cuddle and comfort her as he desperately wanted to. Jojo Moyes succeeded in imposing deep emotions to the story. Unfortunately enough, the movie skipped that scene entirely. 

The movie also failed to complement Lou's effort in her researches and plans for Will. God, there's so much to the novel that the movie's not showing. But, I should've expected it. It's always the case on movie adaptions. 

All I could say is, if you haven't read it, READ IT NOW. Wth are you waiting for?

Contention

I have lack of skills in story telling. I use a lot of 'and then' or 'pastu' or 'so' and I won't know which points are worthy and interesting which usually ends up with me elaborating every bits of details, which I know, is boring and childish.

Here's an example. 

Last weekend I was back at my hometown, Singapore for Yana's wedding. This possibly could be one of the few moments for me to be absolutely envious in having a partner. To be honest, I do not know Mas Iwan personally, neither have I spoken to him directly before (to be fair, even Yana has only  met him merely 6 times before the wedding). Their courtship is somewhat strange in the traditional sense but almost hackneyed in this modern age. In short, they became friends via internet. He was in Mecca and she's in Singapore. 

Generally, Mas Iwan is the kind of husband a muslim girl would want. A decent guy, humbled with knowledge of the Quran. Yana didn't just get a husband, she got herself an imam and ustadz too. Alhamdulillah. 

I want that too. But additionally, I need someone who is active and be in the same game as I am. And I don't just want a teacher of religion, I want a teacher of life and languages. If I ever been given the choice to choose a race for a husband, I would absolutely skip my own race, not because I'm too proud for my own kind... Let me see if I can put this in an non offensive way.... I'd like to diversify. The world is too big to stick to just one option. Knowledge, culture, experience.... all that. 

And here I am mumbling about a partner in life when my initial intention was to share the bad experience I encountered in Singapore. 

It was my first day there. Ma, Qassih and I decided to take a walk outside our apartment to get food and to settle some other important stuff.  It was at 112 Katong shopping mall when I saw a basket of red plums as big as my fist. I took 2 pieces, one for Qassih and another for myself. I scout for the weighing counter but to no avail. I couldn't even find the transparent plastik sayur! So with the 2 plums in each hand, I walked to the cashier which was quite a walk from the fruits section. 

Ahead of me in the line was just one customer, so I thought, hey why not ask the cashier. She should know where the weighing counter's at. Let me give you an image of the customer before we go deeper into my  WTF story. She has an obese body figure, wearing polo shirt and a pair of shorts, short boyish hair cut with big boobs and an aunty but also a tomboy.  

Me: Excuse me Miss, do you know if I need to weigh.....

Aunty: *with the talk-to-the-hand gesture to my face* You don't disturb her. Let her focus on mine. You wait your turn. 

Me: But I only wanna ask if....

Aunty: NO. YOU WAIT. 

The cashier and I gave each other a look and just smiled. We both silently understood that this Aunty's a bitch. Few minutes had passed and the Aunty was still standing in the queue waiting for her turn to be done. The cashier had issues with Aunty's membership card and hence the shop manager was intercom-ed to come over. Whilst they were busy with her card, the Aunty turned to me with what I thought an apologetic look.

Aunty: I don't want you to interrupt her because later she confused with my items. Let her focus on her job.

Me: *with an absolute friendly smile* No, I actually just want to ask, if you would know if I......

Aunty: NO. I. DONT. *turned away from Ms Innocent me*

I got so confused with the whole situation. I really thought she was feeling some guilt. And when the manager was done and walked by us.....

Aunty: You go ask her whatever you wanna ask. You ask her now. You dont ask the cashier. You ask her. *with her arrogant face on*

And so I did. My conclusion to the whole situation is that she's a typical kiasu Singaporean (she even packed one apple each in one transparent plastic sayur. She bought SIX!) who's going through a rough time. I wonder what was playing in her mind at the time. Pity. 

Six Years Later

I don't know how to write. Although part of my job descriptions requires me to write on a daily basis. That didn't happen.

It's either I really don't know how to write or I've lost touch on it. An optimist would choose the latter, whilst a pessimist would go for the former. And I think you know which side I am at. No? Keep on reading and you'll find your answer.

I stopped writing both blog and twitter a million years back because when I hit the words, I am always brought to the dark side. Not deliberately I must say. So often I get carried away in my own thoughts that I start to build up this transparent orb around me and fill it up with dark gas.

Why gas you ask? Because gas is something you can't see but feel. Inhale too much of it, it becomes fatal. And that's me and my feelings. And I would rather not go there. Depression is my own struggle. An islamist would choose Jihad, Self Jihad. 

Then why start again? Mainly because I need somewhere to discard my emotions but also because I need to practice my writing, for my career. Not to mention that I have people, well, friends who have been pushing me to write again. So here it is. My first post after YEARS. Obviously, I am no longer 23 (read the profile -->)

Got to go now. I have gym to go to. Yes, I have grown to be a real adventure enthusiast. No, I do not have a beach bod. I have flabby arms and saggy ass but I am fit (....to my standard. Screw you.)

Toodles. 

Four Years Later

If you're reading this it means that you're checking out my blog.






Curiousity kills ey?



Surprisingly, I had 2 more abandoned blogs which I clearly had no sort of memories about. How many blogs do a girl need exactly?