It's now Sunday at 1:39 in the morning, my roommate's asleep, i haven't done the laundry and i am watching cats in Ikea.
And no, this is not really about a ritual sacrifice or something. I haven't done those since....well, never.
Today, i am an officially a blood donor. Woohoo. I've been wanting to donate my blood ever since they had a blood drive at matrics. But there i basically never had a minimum 5 hour sleep there so i didn't go for it. I want to give quality blood, mind you. It is actually quite important as sleep affects your immune system.
Trust me, i had qualms about giving away the precious red liquid that's been keeping everything up and running, but i told myself, 'suck it up,bitch'. When they first inject you with the anesthetics, i just couldn't bare to look. Yes, i am a tad squeamish when it comes to blood. Especially mine.
And then they poke you with that super long syringe attached with the bag and voila, blood just pour out of your arteries like Niagara Falls. Blergh, mine was like super crimson red. 450ml of pure red gunk. Thank god i didn't pass out or something or it would have been a tad bit problematic not to mention humiliating. When the deed is done, they gave me a bag with Oreo cookies, mineral water and a Milo juice box. Yay.
All in all, i loved it. Yeah, i don't like the blood and the needles, but the thought of saving someone's life is something i think is worth it even though i am still slightly numb at the puncture site. I don't have much money to give, so to give someone my blood maybe the most valuable thing i have ever given.
Okay, i am getting a little drowsy, so that's all for now. Call me if you need a guy with blood to give. Unless you're Edward Cullen, then you can go suck on a tampon.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Friday, December 6, 2013
Prestigious Deception
I am now going to write something. Hahaha. About time.
Always about life and always about experience.
I just came back from this thing, a course if you will. A course on how to be a facilitator. I always wanted to be one. I never knew why. I guess i like to be involved and ...well, facilitate. I think it's from my long lost ambition. I wanted to be come a psychologist once, wanted to help people, but i pushed it aside as i thought, 'I want to do something that, if i didn't do, i would regret it for my whole life'. So I chose to be a biologist instead.
But i never gave up on the dream, in a way.
So, back to the course i went. It was very short, 3 hours at least. But i got a lot in those hours.
Most are just usual stuff. Soft skills. Characteristics of a facilitator. How to give proper commands. There were some people that said i look serious when i give commands. Meh. I was focusing, so i may have looked a tad bit serious. We were practicing on our rhythmic clapping, and i always get distracted and mess it up. I have really bad coordination. Haha. We had tons of fun. Worth the 5 dollars i paid.
But that's not the point of what i am writing, well not the main point.
At the end of the course, the guy who conducted the course gave comments on the job we did as novice facilitators. There were 17. God, that guy is more meticulous than i am. The last one shook me to this very moment.
He said that when we deal with our 'clients', we can lower ourselves to the standards of our younger 'clients' or heighten it when we deal with older ones, to enable us to better communicate with others. But we should always make a balloon around ourselves, maintaining our self-prestige. Then he said that some of our facilitators were just spm students who just finished their exam, hiding in plain sight. He asked them to stand and lo and behold, it was the guy who handled me and my group.
I was flabbergast. I just can't believe it. He seemed so...normal. If it was me, i would have probably shit my pants trying to command my elders. But he kept his composure, though he was a tad bit reserved. Yet he blended in like a tree in a forest. I even asked him 'abang nama apa?', he just looked at me and gave me this weird look. I didn't think about it much, but now i know why he acted in the way he did.
He was my junior, yet i treated him with the respect and trust i gave to my elders. I was deceived, yet i found it eye opening. The guy in charge did say, when you become a facilitator, people place you on a plateau of perfection, and they trust you with their very lives, and it is very easy to be hated or laughed at when you make a mistake as they expect you to be just that, perfect.
And i did just that.
I guess i was a bit shocked as i never felt that the people in charge of us could be someone so inexperienced, young and naive. Filled with weakness, doubt, and secrets. I placed everyone who ordered me around on the plateau, and that boy, my facilitator, shattered my mindset on prestigious perfection of those who lead around me. He made me rethink that my mom, my dad, my siblings, my lecturers were all just like me. Just like my facilitator. As clueless and blur as any person that goes on with their seemingly unimportant lives.
And i've been trying to turn myself into something that i perceive everyone else was, in all this while no one else had ever been. Perfect. Now, i want to be a facilitator even more. To help people in whatever way i can and to show that every stoic person they see everyday is just the same as they are, so cut them, and yourselves, some slack
Always about life and always about experience.
I just came back from this thing, a course if you will. A course on how to be a facilitator. I always wanted to be one. I never knew why. I guess i like to be involved and ...well, facilitate. I think it's from my long lost ambition. I wanted to be come a psychologist once, wanted to help people, but i pushed it aside as i thought, 'I want to do something that, if i didn't do, i would regret it for my whole life'. So I chose to be a biologist instead.
But i never gave up on the dream, in a way.
So, back to the course i went. It was very short, 3 hours at least. But i got a lot in those hours.
Most are just usual stuff. Soft skills. Characteristics of a facilitator. How to give proper commands. There were some people that said i look serious when i give commands. Meh. I was focusing, so i may have looked a tad bit serious. We were practicing on our rhythmic clapping, and i always get distracted and mess it up. I have really bad coordination. Haha. We had tons of fun. Worth the 5 dollars i paid.
But that's not the point of what i am writing, well not the main point.
At the end of the course, the guy who conducted the course gave comments on the job we did as novice facilitators. There were 17. God, that guy is more meticulous than i am. The last one shook me to this very moment.
He said that when we deal with our 'clients', we can lower ourselves to the standards of our younger 'clients' or heighten it when we deal with older ones, to enable us to better communicate with others. But we should always make a balloon around ourselves, maintaining our self-prestige. Then he said that some of our facilitators were just spm students who just finished their exam, hiding in plain sight. He asked them to stand and lo and behold, it was the guy who handled me and my group.
I was flabbergast. I just can't believe it. He seemed so...normal. If it was me, i would have probably shit my pants trying to command my elders. But he kept his composure, though he was a tad bit reserved. Yet he blended in like a tree in a forest. I even asked him 'abang nama apa?', he just looked at me and gave me this weird look. I didn't think about it much, but now i know why he acted in the way he did.
He was my junior, yet i treated him with the respect and trust i gave to my elders. I was deceived, yet i found it eye opening. The guy in charge did say, when you become a facilitator, people place you on a plateau of perfection, and they trust you with their very lives, and it is very easy to be hated or laughed at when you make a mistake as they expect you to be just that, perfect.
And i did just that.
I guess i was a bit shocked as i never felt that the people in charge of us could be someone so inexperienced, young and naive. Filled with weakness, doubt, and secrets. I placed everyone who ordered me around on the plateau, and that boy, my facilitator, shattered my mindset on prestigious perfection of those who lead around me. He made me rethink that my mom, my dad, my siblings, my lecturers were all just like me. Just like my facilitator. As clueless and blur as any person that goes on with their seemingly unimportant lives.
And i've been trying to turn myself into something that i perceive everyone else was, in all this while no one else had ever been. Perfect. Now, i want to be a facilitator even more. To help people in whatever way i can and to show that every stoic person they see everyday is just the same as they are, so cut them, and yourselves, some slack
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Meh
I don't know, i don't really feel like writing anything at the moment. I just feel uninspired lately. Busy i guess. I have all these ideas fluttering around in my mind but i can't seem to catch one and write it down. *sighs* What do you want to know?
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Conversations
Hello there, i know it's been a while since i wrote anything here. Internet problems and being busy with assignments. Life is just hectic nowadays. Anyway, it's fucking 4 in the morning, i am super sleepy and yet here i am. I wanted to write this after i got some sleep but i thought meh, what the hell.
I am back home for my mid-semester break and i have a ton of stuff to write about and a few i still owe. Yeah, but i just want to be random these days. A few while back i saw this girl while walking at UTM. She said hi and i replied. All the while i was wondering, who the hell was that girl? It took me quite a long while to jog an old memory out of the crevices of my mind. But fortunately, i remembered it, and was the second most wonderful and spontaneous things i had ever done, the other one was about that speech i sabotaged in 'Happy Now?'. Hahaha, that was fun.
I was still in the matriculation programme, and i was going back home with my friend from secondary school, izzat. We were just waiting for the bus to come, when izzat stuck a conversation with some girls. I didn't think much of it, because they were from his module. And then the bus came, and izzat sat next to his other friend while i sat alone. One of the girls had no place to sit because her friends was already sitting next to each other.
So, i welcomed her to sit next to me, and she did. At first, she was reserved, as expected. But then, we talked like we've known each other since kindergarten. We talked from the start of our journey till the end of mine, which was like 2-3 hours, and there was a jam too so add a few minutes to that. I can't remember much of our conversation but we just talked like crazy. She said she was tired but fortunately she still continued our conversation. The only thing i could remember was her name.
Maria.....i think. Hahaha.
To tell you the truth, i don't remember anything about what we talked. It's that we talked at all that made me so happy. I loved it. It was just so random and exciting. I am the type of person who lives by my own rules, restrictions and regulations, and to do something so out there is just so....intoxicating. It has always been my dream to just go for a trip on a bus or a train and just grab some random stranger, and talk. Just that. To know someone. And it came true. Like magic.
I always picture moments in my life, for example in a restaurant, is that every single decision, mistakes, choices, and turns brought each and every one in that room for that one instance. And i want to know all of that. Those things that have so suddenly made us close enough to each other and brought us to have that one conversation.
I know, pretty deep shit. But yeah. And to have that one moment of having someone interested in who you are. It's just feels.... meaningful.
For me, it's quite hard to just let go of people. To talk with someone, to be friends and just will that moment away like it's dust in the wind. I get attached, emotionally and personally to a person. I love and care for that person. I guess i have a big heart. I just love people. But i kinda get a bit disheartened when people think i don't care, when people take me for granted. I always remember people, even though i never acknowledge it (i don't want to seem like a moron), but it seems people never remember me. Meh, i guess that's life. Just got to learn to live with it.
People underestimate the power of a conversation. It might seem like a very light thing, but to me, it's like exploring some lost, uninhabited island. You get the insight into someones life, a personal tour if you will. And they do the same thing with you. And we'll both find out that we're not so different, that we're just humans, looking for the same thing in life. Love, friendship, a good time, good food and hopefully, a good conversation.
I am back home for my mid-semester break and i have a ton of stuff to write about and a few i still owe. Yeah, but i just want to be random these days. A few while back i saw this girl while walking at UTM. She said hi and i replied. All the while i was wondering, who the hell was that girl? It took me quite a long while to jog an old memory out of the crevices of my mind. But fortunately, i remembered it, and was the second most wonderful and spontaneous things i had ever done, the other one was about that speech i sabotaged in 'Happy Now?'. Hahaha, that was fun.
I was still in the matriculation programme, and i was going back home with my friend from secondary school, izzat. We were just waiting for the bus to come, when izzat stuck a conversation with some girls. I didn't think much of it, because they were from his module. And then the bus came, and izzat sat next to his other friend while i sat alone. One of the girls had no place to sit because her friends was already sitting next to each other.
So, i welcomed her to sit next to me, and she did. At first, she was reserved, as expected. But then, we talked like we've known each other since kindergarten. We talked from the start of our journey till the end of mine, which was like 2-3 hours, and there was a jam too so add a few minutes to that. I can't remember much of our conversation but we just talked like crazy. She said she was tired but fortunately she still continued our conversation. The only thing i could remember was her name.
Maria.....i think. Hahaha.
To tell you the truth, i don't remember anything about what we talked. It's that we talked at all that made me so happy. I loved it. It was just so random and exciting. I am the type of person who lives by my own rules, restrictions and regulations, and to do something so out there is just so....intoxicating. It has always been my dream to just go for a trip on a bus or a train and just grab some random stranger, and talk. Just that. To know someone. And it came true. Like magic.
I always picture moments in my life, for example in a restaurant, is that every single decision, mistakes, choices, and turns brought each and every one in that room for that one instance. And i want to know all of that. Those things that have so suddenly made us close enough to each other and brought us to have that one conversation.
I know, pretty deep shit. But yeah. And to have that one moment of having someone interested in who you are. It's just feels.... meaningful.
For me, it's quite hard to just let go of people. To talk with someone, to be friends and just will that moment away like it's dust in the wind. I get attached, emotionally and personally to a person. I love and care for that person. I guess i have a big heart. I just love people. But i kinda get a bit disheartened when people think i don't care, when people take me for granted. I always remember people, even though i never acknowledge it (i don't want to seem like a moron), but it seems people never remember me. Meh, i guess that's life. Just got to learn to live with it.
People underestimate the power of a conversation. It might seem like a very light thing, but to me, it's like exploring some lost, uninhabited island. You get the insight into someones life, a personal tour if you will. And they do the same thing with you. And we'll both find out that we're not so different, that we're just humans, looking for the same thing in life. Love, friendship, a good time, good food and hopefully, a good conversation.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Thanks.
Its 1 o'clock in the morning and i am super tired from the trip back home from UTM. Exhausting day. But i am forcing myself to write something here. Just for the sake of it. I just felt if i don't do anything by force, i am never going to do it.
What should I write about?
I have a lot to say about a great many things, but we'll have time for that. I just want to say thank you.
I know i am babbling here but yeah, why not?
Thank you.
Thank you for being the most wonderful friend i had ever had. Thank you for turning your backs when i needed you the most. Thank you for giving me hope in the life that i wanted to give up. Thank you for crushing my very being to dust. Thank you for making me feel the sweet taste of loving someone. Thank you for making me hate you beyond what i thought i was capable of.
All of these are for all the people that surround me. Some are so wonderful that it makes me doubt they even existed. Some make me wished they had never existed.
And i just wanted to say thanks for making me....me. I never thought i could, but yet here i am.
Me. Broken. Twisted. Loving. Caring. Compassionate. Doubtful. Hopeful. Dreamer. Ignorant. Naive. Blind. Careless. Carefree. Humorous. Depressed. Sad. Happy. Joyful. Writer.
I can never bring myself to think who i am without these characteristics. But i never thought that it's people who influenced me to be who i am, directly or not. To put it simply, people made me who i am, and here i am thinking i am my own person. We are like gigantic collages,we are made mostly of our own pieces, but what makes us different is when interacting with people, they add new pieces, that changes us. So, thank you, for all the good and the bad. The kind and the evil.
And i take it all with an open heart, a warm hug and a pat in the back. Without it, would i get the chance to be this much more super awesome opossum kind of person? No,right? So that's that. Thanks. And i love ya'all.
What should I write about?
I have a lot to say about a great many things, but we'll have time for that. I just want to say thank you.
I know i am babbling here but yeah, why not?
Thank you.
Thank you for being the most wonderful friend i had ever had. Thank you for turning your backs when i needed you the most. Thank you for giving me hope in the life that i wanted to give up. Thank you for crushing my very being to dust. Thank you for making me feel the sweet taste of loving someone. Thank you for making me hate you beyond what i thought i was capable of.
All of these are for all the people that surround me. Some are so wonderful that it makes me doubt they even existed. Some make me wished they had never existed.
And i just wanted to say thanks for making me....me. I never thought i could, but yet here i am.
Me. Broken. Twisted. Loving. Caring. Compassionate. Doubtful. Hopeful. Dreamer. Ignorant. Naive. Blind. Careless. Carefree. Humorous. Depressed. Sad. Happy. Joyful. Writer.
I can never bring myself to think who i am without these characteristics. But i never thought that it's people who influenced me to be who i am, directly or not. To put it simply, people made me who i am, and here i am thinking i am my own person. We are like gigantic collages,we are made mostly of our own pieces, but what makes us different is when interacting with people, they add new pieces, that changes us. So, thank you, for all the good and the bad. The kind and the evil.
And i take it all with an open heart, a warm hug and a pat in the back. Without it, would i get the chance to be this much more super awesome opossum kind of person? No,right? So that's that. Thanks. And i love ya'all.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
My Sun
I've been in UTM for about two weeks now and it has been a blast...well, more or less. Adapting takes time. I've met new people that i know will guide me to become a better version of myself, and i just love learning biology, it's what i'm most passionate about. Life. And not to mention I'm doing it for free.
But I am far away from home. From my family. From my mom. I'd hate to admit but sometimes, mostly at night, I miss my mom. I used to go to my mom's room and lie down next to her and just watch her sleep. I know, and I may have even shed a tear or two here, but i wouldn't admit it. Call me a momma's boy, and I take that as a honorific title.
I love my mom. She's my sun. Burning brightly for her children. She sacrificed so many things for me. She risked her life to give me mine. She gave away her money for an operation to save my life. Her blood, sweat and tears raised me to become the person I am today.
I had a moment of realization a few days ago. My name means acceptance. From the root word redha. And i just put it together why she may have named me that. She lost one of her children that was very young. I think she was my sister. I always wanted to know what happened but i never had the courage to ask. Anyway, I came after my unknown sister passed, and i guess she accepted me and everything that happened to her as fate. Woah, very mind blowing stuff.
Actually, the main reason i wanted to write this is because i have a confession to make. When i was preparing to go to university, i was excited mostly because i was getting out of that house. To get away from everything. Including my mom. I'm sorry. I am so sorry.
Why? As much as it was my home., it wasn't. It became a torture chamber. I had to see all the people i love being frustrated and tired as our co-existence took a toll on us. Money became our leash, tugging and choking our lives. We became torn apart by the things that kept us together.
And my mom led us against everything. Against debt. Against my father. (that's a story for another time) And I was just tired. I just wanted to get away from the problems that surrounded us, that hounded us. So i ran. I took my only chance of escape and I abandoned her. Damn.
I know what you might think, i was going away to study, i shouldn't blame myself, but i do blame myself. I did came here to study, with the benefit of being far away from home. Being with her is like getting closer to the sun. The closer you are, the more you burn. But the further you are, the more you'll yearn. I know, it rhymes.
*sigh*
Sometimes i close my eyes and pretend i am lying next to her, in her dark room glowed by the light from her bathroom, with the sound of the fan and her breathing ringing in my ears. I lay there, wondering about the choices i've made and the things i've done. And look at her peacefully sleeping, and be comforted by her even without her being awake. She is God's gift to me. And I will love, sacrifice and give my everything for her. I know i am not perfect, but sometimes it's stupid to be perfect. I just want to be enough. I just want to make her proud. I just want to be her son.
But I am far away from home. From my family. From my mom. I'd hate to admit but sometimes, mostly at night, I miss my mom. I used to go to my mom's room and lie down next to her and just watch her sleep. I know, and I may have even shed a tear or two here, but i wouldn't admit it. Call me a momma's boy, and I take that as a honorific title.
I love my mom. She's my sun. Burning brightly for her children. She sacrificed so many things for me. She risked her life to give me mine. She gave away her money for an operation to save my life. Her blood, sweat and tears raised me to become the person I am today.
I had a moment of realization a few days ago. My name means acceptance. From the root word redha. And i just put it together why she may have named me that. She lost one of her children that was very young. I think she was my sister. I always wanted to know what happened but i never had the courage to ask. Anyway, I came after my unknown sister passed, and i guess she accepted me and everything that happened to her as fate. Woah, very mind blowing stuff.
Actually, the main reason i wanted to write this is because i have a confession to make. When i was preparing to go to university, i was excited mostly because i was getting out of that house. To get away from everything. Including my mom. I'm sorry. I am so sorry.
Why? As much as it was my home., it wasn't. It became a torture chamber. I had to see all the people i love being frustrated and tired as our co-existence took a toll on us. Money became our leash, tugging and choking our lives. We became torn apart by the things that kept us together.
And my mom led us against everything. Against debt. Against my father. (that's a story for another time) And I was just tired. I just wanted to get away from the problems that surrounded us, that hounded us. So i ran. I took my only chance of escape and I abandoned her. Damn.
I know what you might think, i was going away to study, i shouldn't blame myself, but i do blame myself. I did came here to study, with the benefit of being far away from home. Being with her is like getting closer to the sun. The closer you are, the more you burn. But the further you are, the more you'll yearn. I know, it rhymes.
*sigh*
Sometimes i close my eyes and pretend i am lying next to her, in her dark room glowed by the light from her bathroom, with the sound of the fan and her breathing ringing in my ears. I lay there, wondering about the choices i've made and the things i've done. And look at her peacefully sleeping, and be comforted by her even without her being awake. She is God's gift to me. And I will love, sacrifice and give my everything for her. I know i am not perfect, but sometimes it's stupid to be perfect. I just want to be enough. I just want to make her proud. I just want to be her son.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Go on.
This is my first post after starting my studies here in UTM and I know I promised a part two on Life. Accelerated. I'll get to that. And also on life here as well. And a whole lot more stuff on other stuff.
Anyway, as suspected I watched a movie before writing this, go figure. I watched Warm Bodies. It was sweet. And thought to myself, I can't stop hoping. Hoping for life to get better.
Everytime it seems like I can't even stand anymore, life just shoots a random arrow of hope and I go on. Just like that. Weird. God is either messing with me or he is rooting for me. I'll go with the latter.
One of my new friends asked me why I always seem to look on the bright side of everything. I found the answer while on facebook. Someone has too. I lived most of my life trying to see only the bad in my life and I guess I wanted a change. I wanted to see something more than just bad. I wanted to see the good that life can offer.
Sometimes we lose our way in life, but He tends to point us back on track. I started this new way of thinking based on the most thoughtful thing anyone has said to me, don't takes things too literally.
When I am sad, I tell myself, be sad. It's only for a while. Then pull yourself together and go on.
Life can only get better if we head for it. If we want it, it is ours for the taking. We just have to see things beyond what we feel, beyond our thoughts, beyond our imagination. We have to hold on to hope. It keeps us alive more than air itself.
Anyway, as suspected I watched a movie before writing this, go figure. I watched Warm Bodies. It was sweet. And thought to myself, I can't stop hoping. Hoping for life to get better.
Everytime it seems like I can't even stand anymore, life just shoots a random arrow of hope and I go on. Just like that. Weird. God is either messing with me or he is rooting for me. I'll go with the latter.
One of my new friends asked me why I always seem to look on the bright side of everything. I found the answer while on facebook. Someone has too. I lived most of my life trying to see only the bad in my life and I guess I wanted a change. I wanted to see something more than just bad. I wanted to see the good that life can offer.
Sometimes we lose our way in life, but He tends to point us back on track. I started this new way of thinking based on the most thoughtful thing anyone has said to me, don't takes things too literally.
When I am sad, I tell myself, be sad. It's only for a while. Then pull yourself together and go on.
Life can only get better if we head for it. If we want it, it is ours for the taking. We just have to see things beyond what we feel, beyond our thoughts, beyond our imagination. We have to hold on to hope. It keeps us alive more than air itself.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Life. Accelerated. (Part 1)
It's 3 a.m. in the morning, tomorrow i have to wake up early to go up a mountain and here I am, writing stuff and listening to very trippy music. Seems like the good old days again.
I kinda promised myself that I would write a post on my time at matrics, it just so happens i've been thinking about it for a while so i guess i should start somewhere.
Well, to tell you the truth, everything was a blur. It all happened so fast that i can't seem to recall most of it. Fortunately, i do remember how i felt when i was there, and i'll never forget that.
Happy.
I loved it there. The environment. The people. The lecturers. And most of all, the friends.
I never knew what to expect when i first entered the room i would be spending one year in. The first day went on so fast that i never got the time to acquaint myself with my roommates. I didn't even knew one of my roommates name until we got our i.d tags and me and my other roommate had to take a peak to see who this mystery man living with us. We wanted to ask but it has been a week after the orientation... it would be very awkward. But in time, i learned who they were, more or less.
We kept to ourselves, well... most of us. I was only close to one of my roommate. Rashdan. God, that man is my saving grace. I did not know how i would've survived without him. Thanks to his laptop, ipad, iphone and printer, not to mention his internet service, and food, his kettle, the movies in his external hard disk....i could go on all day. I know i kinda took advantage of my dear old friend but damn, he was just so nice. I even told him i wanted to marry his sister. Hahaha. I guess i just can't get enough of the guy. If i had all the money in the world, i can't give him enough, he has a lot of it anyway. Hahaha. We started to called him 'Tauke Emas Semenanjung' after my other roommate called him that. (His mom sells gold and stuff)
But I never want to get on his bad side. He went moody all of a sudden after me and my friend was joking around and he didn't speak to me for a while, a very long while. And i was really worried. Thank god he came around and he became his old nice self again. Sometimes I think I annoyed him with all my antics but i guess he is impossibly patient. I love you man, in a non homosexual way of course. I am going to miss you. May God find a proper place to reward you in heaven.
My estranged roommate, who rarely talks to me, the one i didn't even knew his name for the first week, Botak a.k.a Din. He is an interesting one. Always bald. He has this shaver he uses. Quite unusual that one. I rarely saw him study, mostly during study week, even that is spread quite thinly. I didn't mind that one, until he showed me how shallow his soul is. Then i tended to ignore him, only talking when necessary. He didn't seem to mind though.
Then, there is the epitome of annoyance. The king of all that is swag. The ruler of all who wanted a foot up their asses and a slap with a chair. For his safety and my sanity, i shall only refer him as MD. And no, he is no doctor, mind you. God, that man could have drove me straight into insanity. He could not talk to me in a normal way. He had to talk as if i was his long time gay partner and we've been married in the US for five years. He would say "Morning!" in that manner, but it wasn't even god damn shining outside! Every single time i saw his face! God help me!
If he was gay, i wouldn't be so angry, cause maybe he was trying to hit on me (he like his men big! hahaha). But he wasn't, i knew cause my other sexually confused friend told me that, and he was friends with him before. So, what possibly could made him talk that way? And only to me, mind you, he'd talk normally with all my other roommates. And he would hang his clothes without hangers, hogging all the space to hang all the wet clothes. Selfish bastard!
He sleeps like a dead log. He asked me to wake him up, after a while i kinda got lazy, and he kinda got the point. His alarm would blare out loudly at 6:30, but he always seem to wake up precisely at 6:50 to 7. Like clockwork. Unusually, at least during days where i had classes, I would wake up like clockwork, just around 6, no problem except on the rare occasion. But on weekends, i am usually the last out of bed. God, it my day off and people just love to bug me with pesky things like breakfast and exercise.
Back to my beloved roommate, I tried to make peace with that man. But he just happens to find new ways to annoy me. He even wanted to pay me to put in a good word on him for his girlfriend since i was in the same lecture as she was, after he told us about how he paid some guy a 100 bucks to know about a guy who seemed to show interest in his girl. I wanted to scream and shout "You can't pay me enough to make me do that! I ain't going to bow to your money like some of your other high-end friends!". But my mom didn't raise a rude, belligerent child,so i held my tongue.
I must say I am impressed by his persistence. He would ask me out for lunch, dinner or stuff (i know! super gay!) and i would say no every time. And he never stopped even when we were almost out of that place. I guess he knew that in that room that he shared, I was the only one that was mildly interested in making peace with him (I was the only one close with him during the first week, before he became a monster, so that must have said meant something too). But i never did say yes. We would have had such a romance. Hahaha.
To tell you the truth, i loved that guy too. He united me and my friends in the common hatred against him, so i guess i should thank him. Hate brings people more closer. Well, other people. And he is going to the same university as i am. God, what have i done wrong? What have i done wrong to You!?!?
This seems like the longest post i had in a while, which i didn't exactly anticipate. So I'll divide in in two and write the other part later. Don't worry, i saved the best part for later. I better go to sleep before my mom wakes up and screams at me. I am going to Fraser's Hill. Not exactly a mountain but....meh.
I kinda promised myself that I would write a post on my time at matrics, it just so happens i've been thinking about it for a while so i guess i should start somewhere.
Well, to tell you the truth, everything was a blur. It all happened so fast that i can't seem to recall most of it. Fortunately, i do remember how i felt when i was there, and i'll never forget that.
Happy.
I loved it there. The environment. The people. The lecturers. And most of all, the friends.
I never knew what to expect when i first entered the room i would be spending one year in. The first day went on so fast that i never got the time to acquaint myself with my roommates. I didn't even knew one of my roommates name until we got our i.d tags and me and my other roommate had to take a peak to see who this mystery man living with us. We wanted to ask but it has been a week after the orientation... it would be very awkward. But in time, i learned who they were, more or less.
We kept to ourselves, well... most of us. I was only close to one of my roommate. Rashdan. God, that man is my saving grace. I did not know how i would've survived without him. Thanks to his laptop, ipad, iphone and printer, not to mention his internet service, and food, his kettle, the movies in his external hard disk....i could go on all day. I know i kinda took advantage of my dear old friend but damn, he was just so nice. I even told him i wanted to marry his sister. Hahaha. I guess i just can't get enough of the guy. If i had all the money in the world, i can't give him enough, he has a lot of it anyway. Hahaha. We started to called him 'Tauke Emas Semenanjung' after my other roommate called him that. (His mom sells gold and stuff)
But I never want to get on his bad side. He went moody all of a sudden after me and my friend was joking around and he didn't speak to me for a while, a very long while. And i was really worried. Thank god he came around and he became his old nice self again. Sometimes I think I annoyed him with all my antics but i guess he is impossibly patient. I love you man, in a non homosexual way of course. I am going to miss you. May God find a proper place to reward you in heaven.
My estranged roommate, who rarely talks to me, the one i didn't even knew his name for the first week, Botak a.k.a Din. He is an interesting one. Always bald. He has this shaver he uses. Quite unusual that one. I rarely saw him study, mostly during study week, even that is spread quite thinly. I didn't mind that one, until he showed me how shallow his soul is. Then i tended to ignore him, only talking when necessary. He didn't seem to mind though.
Then, there is the epitome of annoyance. The king of all that is swag. The ruler of all who wanted a foot up their asses and a slap with a chair. For his safety and my sanity, i shall only refer him as MD. And no, he is no doctor, mind you. God, that man could have drove me straight into insanity. He could not talk to me in a normal way. He had to talk as if i was his long time gay partner and we've been married in the US for five years. He would say "Morning!" in that manner, but it wasn't even god damn shining outside! Every single time i saw his face! God help me!
If he was gay, i wouldn't be so angry, cause maybe he was trying to hit on me (he like his men big! hahaha). But he wasn't, i knew cause my other sexually confused friend told me that, and he was friends with him before. So, what possibly could made him talk that way? And only to me, mind you, he'd talk normally with all my other roommates. And he would hang his clothes without hangers, hogging all the space to hang all the wet clothes. Selfish bastard!
He sleeps like a dead log. He asked me to wake him up, after a while i kinda got lazy, and he kinda got the point. His alarm would blare out loudly at 6:30, but he always seem to wake up precisely at 6:50 to 7. Like clockwork. Unusually, at least during days where i had classes, I would wake up like clockwork, just around 6, no problem except on the rare occasion. But on weekends, i am usually the last out of bed. God, it my day off and people just love to bug me with pesky things like breakfast and exercise.
Back to my beloved roommate, I tried to make peace with that man. But he just happens to find new ways to annoy me. He even wanted to pay me to put in a good word on him for his girlfriend since i was in the same lecture as she was, after he told us about how he paid some guy a 100 bucks to know about a guy who seemed to show interest in his girl. I wanted to scream and shout "You can't pay me enough to make me do that! I ain't going to bow to your money like some of your other high-end friends!". But my mom didn't raise a rude, belligerent child,so i held my tongue.
I must say I am impressed by his persistence. He would ask me out for lunch, dinner or stuff (i know! super gay!) and i would say no every time. And he never stopped even when we were almost out of that place. I guess he knew that in that room that he shared, I was the only one that was mildly interested in making peace with him (I was the only one close with him during the first week, before he became a monster, so that must have said meant something too). But i never did say yes. We would have had such a romance. Hahaha.
To tell you the truth, i loved that guy too. He united me and my friends in the common hatred against him, so i guess i should thank him. Hate brings people more closer. Well, other people. And he is going to the same university as i am. God, what have i done wrong? What have i done wrong to You!?!?
This seems like the longest post i had in a while, which i didn't exactly anticipate. So I'll divide in in two and write the other part later. Don't worry, i saved the best part for later. I better go to sleep before my mom wakes up and screams at me. I am going to Fraser's Hill. Not exactly a mountain but....meh.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
The Spirit of Raya
Well, raya has come to pass and it's been okay. Spectacular. We went back to my parent's hometown. We spent like a week there, enjoying ourselves and basically sticking to the same raya routine. Going back a few days before raya. One of the best things i like when we all spend time during raya is when we break our fast. My grandfather's three daughters would gather their ilk and we would break fast with the most wonderful array of food. Simple but....there is nothing like the taste of a meal shared with a very large family. I guess the people makes the most difference.
Then, when the time has dawn on us,we would spend the first day of raya together. My mom is always the one that is up first. This year i kind of slept a little early. like at 9, so i was the second one to wake up, but i always wake up after my mother. I'd help her with stuff, like this year i helped her mop the floor at 5 in the morning. It's a very good thing too because my aunt's little demon's...I mean children kind of get in the way at times. One of them likes to vacuum but for the wrong purpose. I don't even know what's wrong with that child.
The main reason I always wake up early is for one purpose only. The bathroom. The race is always on. I am the type of person that likes my bath to be long and through, so i have to fight for my god given right. But unfortunately I tend to lose. We would then go to pray and come back to ask forgiveness and get the money. Money is always on everyone's mind. The question is receiving or giving.
Then we would go visit our relatives. God help us. There are quite a few and to tackle them all in a day is next to impossible. So we usually break it down to two days, one for the near ones and another for the tad bit further ones. That's like my next favorite thing. I love going to my parent's relatives (mostly my mom's because there's not much of my dad's left, which is kinda odd considering it's my dad's hometown too).... oh wait, before i forget, the best thing about raya overall, at least for me is both of my parents are from the same place, just a few kilometers away. No need to bicker where to go back this raya or next and no need to commute between states or whatever. Although my dad's parent's are no longer here, it's still a plus for me now as it was back then.
Right, back too...yes, I just love visiting relatives, seeing them so happy to see you. Enjoying food and just have a blast.
But there is always a catch. During the second day of raya, the gates of hell are opened, at least at my grandfather's house anyway. We would never go anywhere during this day. Usually we would have nasi lemak and that is when these huge hordes of people would come with three or four cars filled with relatives and they would swarm my grandfather's small house. And god, the cycle repeats like four times or so. I don't know from where they come from but damn, they sure know how to time themselves pretty accurately. And conveniently, we would be the only ones there, with my aunts going to their in-laws. So, it like all hands on deck. Refill the rice, make more drinks, refill this, chop that, boil more eggs. Pure utter chaos.
Oh, this year i got a little surprise. We were sending of one batch of people off, saying our goodbyes and this little kid was like scared that there was ants in his shoes. I was like what, you're in the village, it happens all the time. Then his mom told him to hurry up and he began speaking in Hungarian. I was like, did he just spoke parsel tongue or something? My mom told me her family has living there for a while and i was like ohhh, that makes sense.
And this year we celebrated my chubby little niece's birthday at my grandfather's house for her very first birthday. We, that is my siblings and I pitched in and bought her a toy car thing that she could ride on. Unfortunately she is gets scared by the noises it makes, so we'll wait till she has the courage to ride on it and pretty much run over everyone's feet.
Lastly we would go back home, and continue our tradition of visiting people here with all it's open houses and invites.
As days go by, I keep feeling that the spirit of raya is slowly fading. With my grandmother bedridden and people growing up, the bright shine that raya use to meant to me seems to be growing dimmer as the years go by. But I hold on to the hope that the spirit can be rekindled as I get a better understanding of what it means to be a part of something bigger than myself. A part of a family.
Then, when the time has dawn on us,we would spend the first day of raya together. My mom is always the one that is up first. This year i kind of slept a little early. like at 9, so i was the second one to wake up, but i always wake up after my mother. I'd help her with stuff, like this year i helped her mop the floor at 5 in the morning. It's a very good thing too because my aunt's little demon's...I mean children kind of get in the way at times. One of them likes to vacuum but for the wrong purpose. I don't even know what's wrong with that child.
The main reason I always wake up early is for one purpose only. The bathroom. The race is always on. I am the type of person that likes my bath to be long and through, so i have to fight for my god given right. But unfortunately I tend to lose. We would then go to pray and come back to ask forgiveness and get the money. Money is always on everyone's mind. The question is receiving or giving.
Then we would go visit our relatives. God help us. There are quite a few and to tackle them all in a day is next to impossible. So we usually break it down to two days, one for the near ones and another for the tad bit further ones. That's like my next favorite thing. I love going to my parent's relatives (mostly my mom's because there's not much of my dad's left, which is kinda odd considering it's my dad's hometown too).... oh wait, before i forget, the best thing about raya overall, at least for me is both of my parents are from the same place, just a few kilometers away. No need to bicker where to go back this raya or next and no need to commute between states or whatever. Although my dad's parent's are no longer here, it's still a plus for me now as it was back then.
Right, back too...yes, I just love visiting relatives, seeing them so happy to see you. Enjoying food and just have a blast.
But there is always a catch. During the second day of raya, the gates of hell are opened, at least at my grandfather's house anyway. We would never go anywhere during this day. Usually we would have nasi lemak and that is when these huge hordes of people would come with three or four cars filled with relatives and they would swarm my grandfather's small house. And god, the cycle repeats like four times or so. I don't know from where they come from but damn, they sure know how to time themselves pretty accurately. And conveniently, we would be the only ones there, with my aunts going to their in-laws. So, it like all hands on deck. Refill the rice, make more drinks, refill this, chop that, boil more eggs. Pure utter chaos.
Oh, this year i got a little surprise. We were sending of one batch of people off, saying our goodbyes and this little kid was like scared that there was ants in his shoes. I was like what, you're in the village, it happens all the time. Then his mom told him to hurry up and he began speaking in Hungarian. I was like, did he just spoke parsel tongue or something? My mom told me her family has living there for a while and i was like ohhh, that makes sense.
And this year we celebrated my chubby little niece's birthday at my grandfather's house for her very first birthday. We, that is my siblings and I pitched in and bought her a toy car thing that she could ride on. Unfortunately she is gets scared by the noises it makes, so we'll wait till she has the courage to ride on it and pretty much run over everyone's feet.
Lastly we would go back home, and continue our tradition of visiting people here with all it's open houses and invites.
As days go by, I keep feeling that the spirit of raya is slowly fading. With my grandmother bedridden and people growing up, the bright shine that raya use to meant to me seems to be growing dimmer as the years go by. But I hold on to the hope that the spirit can be rekindled as I get a better understanding of what it means to be a part of something bigger than myself. A part of a family.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Movie buff
Someone asked me what inspires me the most to write and i said love. And that's true, it did made me write. But just now after watching a movie, funnily though, i realized what inspires me to write even more.
Movies.
Most of the post I write here, whether i post it or not, is after I watch a movie. There is a lot of stuff that i write that I don't publish because some people may not understand, some are depressing and there is some that are too painful to even think about. I tried to let people understand how I feel inside. It is not pretty. It's hard to see through the eyes of people who are depressed i guess. Sometimes when you're sad, you just forget that there is anything such as happiness.
It is not something I'd wish on anyone. And those people just get paranoid, always seeing every melancholic word I say as if it is suicide attempt. They are mostly right. But I don't want people to just see me sad. I want them to pull me out of it. Distract me from it. Not to just make it more obvious for me to see how screwed up I am. Me being the type of person that over-think everything makes this condition much worse.
I realize that this is deviating from the subject but I just wanted to say something.
Well, back to where we were.
Movies. Yeah, it seems i write a lot after movies. This blog was reinvigorated after I watched How to Train Your Dragon. I wrote stuff, or at least tried (sometimes i was just a tad bit too lazy) after I watched Front of The Class (nice movie, come to think of it), Wolverine, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and a whole lot more maybe without me even noticing it.
To me, movies are just a bitter-sweet thing. I love it because when i get into a movie, I just lose myself in it. I always think as movies being real, like other parallel universes that happen but we just don't know because we are stuck in this universe. But I hate it because when it's over it's like snatching me off life support. And I get stuck with bitter old me.
The one I watched just now was Source Code. It was nice. (I can never tell when movies are bad. I guess I like every and any kind of movies)
And I got this feeling at the pit of my stomach. I knew this feeling because I felt it before.
It was longing.
At the end of the movie, the guy saves the day and gets a second chance at life. And I want that. I want to be more than myself and get a another chance.I wanted to be anybody else but me. And I just feel so.... angry at myself for what I am, for wanting something that is impossible to attain and for thinking so lowly of myself.
And I get tired of this body, this life, and yes, i know this sounds all dreary and melancholic, but it is how I feel, and i told myself that I would say how I feel in here because I would not say it anywhere else or to anyone. God, I get so scared of causing distress in people about what I feel that I feel guilty just mentioning it.
*sigh*
See how messed up I am?
Sometimes I just lose faith in myself, where nothing I do seem to matter, where I never seem to matter. During those days, I'll just lie in my bed and drown myself in tears. I once told my friend that men don't cry, they can't. Well, either I'm an exception or I am not a man. Go figure.
But there are days when I hold on to hope. Where I wake up and look in the mirror and think, "Well, I think that's good enough for me."
I guess, to put it into perspective, life is just like a movie.
Beginning. Ending. Climaxes. Plot twists.
You just have to continue watching to see what happens next
Movies.
Most of the post I write here, whether i post it or not, is after I watch a movie. There is a lot of stuff that i write that I don't publish because some people may not understand, some are depressing and there is some that are too painful to even think about. I tried to let people understand how I feel inside. It is not pretty. It's hard to see through the eyes of people who are depressed i guess. Sometimes when you're sad, you just forget that there is anything such as happiness.
It is not something I'd wish on anyone. And those people just get paranoid, always seeing every melancholic word I say as if it is suicide attempt. They are mostly right. But I don't want people to just see me sad. I want them to pull me out of it. Distract me from it. Not to just make it more obvious for me to see how screwed up I am. Me being the type of person that over-think everything makes this condition much worse.
I realize that this is deviating from the subject but I just wanted to say something.
Well, back to where we were.
Movies. Yeah, it seems i write a lot after movies. This blog was reinvigorated after I watched How to Train Your Dragon. I wrote stuff, or at least tried (sometimes i was just a tad bit too lazy) after I watched Front of The Class (nice movie, come to think of it), Wolverine, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and a whole lot more maybe without me even noticing it.
To me, movies are just a bitter-sweet thing. I love it because when i get into a movie, I just lose myself in it. I always think as movies being real, like other parallel universes that happen but we just don't know because we are stuck in this universe. But I hate it because when it's over it's like snatching me off life support. And I get stuck with bitter old me.
The one I watched just now was Source Code. It was nice. (I can never tell when movies are bad. I guess I like every and any kind of movies)
And I got this feeling at the pit of my stomach. I knew this feeling because I felt it before.
It was longing.
At the end of the movie, the guy saves the day and gets a second chance at life. And I want that. I want to be more than myself and get a another chance.I wanted to be anybody else but me. And I just feel so.... angry at myself for what I am, for wanting something that is impossible to attain and for thinking so lowly of myself.
And I get tired of this body, this life, and yes, i know this sounds all dreary and melancholic, but it is how I feel, and i told myself that I would say how I feel in here because I would not say it anywhere else or to anyone. God, I get so scared of causing distress in people about what I feel that I feel guilty just mentioning it.
*sigh*
See how messed up I am?
Sometimes I just lose faith in myself, where nothing I do seem to matter, where I never seem to matter. During those days, I'll just lie in my bed and drown myself in tears. I once told my friend that men don't cry, they can't. Well, either I'm an exception or I am not a man. Go figure.
But there are days when I hold on to hope. Where I wake up and look in the mirror and think, "Well, I think that's good enough for me."
I guess, to put it into perspective, life is just like a movie.
Beginning. Ending. Climaxes. Plot twists.
You just have to continue watching to see what happens next
Sunday, July 28, 2013
With love.
The air was still, like the calm clarity I had in my heart. But my mind was swamped by an ocean of emotion. Love. Joy. Fear. Passion. Excitement. You name it. But I was sure, just as sure the sun was shining, that every step I took was what I was meant to do. What I wanted to do.
"Hey, didn't think you would be here? What's up?", she said, with a smile so sweet I'd get diabetes in a second.
"You look like you have something on your mind? Well, don't just stand there, spit it out!"
Always the pushy one.
"Well, I don't really know how to put it in words...". Smooth sailing so far, you dumb ass.
"Well, then bark it to me. I speak dog. Or you can choose around 13 other non-human languages I can understand. Why not whale talk?". She began to make some sounds that were more like a sick cow than a whale.
"Stop it, i'm trying to be a tad bit serious here and you are not making it any easier.", feeling slightly flustered.
"Well, you are being ridiculous. Don't know how to put it in words?!? Come on! Just say what you want to say. I know you didn't come all the way to this side of town just to stand here and say that! So, please, the suspense is killing me.", ending her sentence with a sly smirk that made me feel unsure of how much she already knows.
"Here it goes. The reason why I don't know how to put it in words is because I never had to. Never needed to. It was always been there for as long as I could think with a clear mind, which is a while back." I stopped, try to catch my breath and hopefully some courage as well. She stood in front of me, listening attentively.
"When I go to bed, you are the last thing on my mind. When I wake up, you are the first thought that comes to mind. When i'm eating cereal, I wonder if you are having the same cereal as I am. When I am anywhere, I wonder where you are.", I said, with no regard to the consequences. I heard her say something about being obsessive under her breath but took no notice.
"I can't sleep, eat, drink, talk, or do anything sexually related without thinking about you. Okay, maybe you didn't need to know about that.", I can feel myself blushing to death.
"Well, a little too much detail, but go on", she said, standing stoically against all the shit i'm saying.
"I think to put it simply, I love you. I just love you. That's just it. I just do. And I don't know what to do about it. I tried to deny it, hide it, kill it, bury it, shoot it, and everything in between. And I just can't think straight. And here I am, standing in front of you, doing what I think is absolute insanity. But I just had to. I just wanted you to know. And to know whether...", I paused, choking on the words I just couldn't make myself say.
She just stood there, as the sun began to descend from the sky, and I started to wish that she would do something. I couldn't tell what she was feeling, as I was being washed away with mine. I was holding back tears, hopes, dreams, wishes, nightmares, and thinking that I would break down any second, but I didn't. I couldn't. Not in front of her.
She began to walk pass me on the sidewalk, with her emotions unreadable, with steps so fast, she was closer to her car then from me in less than 3 seconds. I felt like my heart just dropped right on the sidewalk.
Then she turned around, looking annoyed. She walked with the same pace back to where I was standing. I haven't moved an inch from just now, only turning to see her go.
Her face was red as she walked towards me. She then leaned and kissed me. And I thought, damn. She was perfect. She then grabbed my arm and hauled me back in the direction of her car. I couldn't even feel my legs, so I just followed. I heard her mumbling to herself. " About time."
She was perfect. Always had been. She was worth it. Every single bit. And now she's mine. God, I must be dead cause this is heaven.
"Hey, didn't think you would be here? What's up?", she said, with a smile so sweet I'd get diabetes in a second.
"You look like you have something on your mind? Well, don't just stand there, spit it out!"
Always the pushy one.
"Well, I don't really know how to put it in words...". Smooth sailing so far, you dumb ass.
"Well, then bark it to me. I speak dog. Or you can choose around 13 other non-human languages I can understand. Why not whale talk?". She began to make some sounds that were more like a sick cow than a whale.
"Stop it, i'm trying to be a tad bit serious here and you are not making it any easier.", feeling slightly flustered.
"Well, you are being ridiculous. Don't know how to put it in words?!? Come on! Just say what you want to say. I know you didn't come all the way to this side of town just to stand here and say that! So, please, the suspense is killing me.", ending her sentence with a sly smirk that made me feel unsure of how much she already knows.
"Here it goes. The reason why I don't know how to put it in words is because I never had to. Never needed to. It was always been there for as long as I could think with a clear mind, which is a while back." I stopped, try to catch my breath and hopefully some courage as well. She stood in front of me, listening attentively.
"When I go to bed, you are the last thing on my mind. When I wake up, you are the first thought that comes to mind. When i'm eating cereal, I wonder if you are having the same cereal as I am. When I am anywhere, I wonder where you are.", I said, with no regard to the consequences. I heard her say something about being obsessive under her breath but took no notice.
"I can't sleep, eat, drink, talk, or do anything sexually related without thinking about you. Okay, maybe you didn't need to know about that.", I can feel myself blushing to death.
"Well, a little too much detail, but go on", she said, standing stoically against all the shit i'm saying.
"I think to put it simply, I love you. I just love you. That's just it. I just do. And I don't know what to do about it. I tried to deny it, hide it, kill it, bury it, shoot it, and everything in between. And I just can't think straight. And here I am, standing in front of you, doing what I think is absolute insanity. But I just had to. I just wanted you to know. And to know whether...", I paused, choking on the words I just couldn't make myself say.
She just stood there, as the sun began to descend from the sky, and I started to wish that she would do something. I couldn't tell what she was feeling, as I was being washed away with mine. I was holding back tears, hopes, dreams, wishes, nightmares, and thinking that I would break down any second, but I didn't. I couldn't. Not in front of her.
She began to walk pass me on the sidewalk, with her emotions unreadable, with steps so fast, she was closer to her car then from me in less than 3 seconds. I felt like my heart just dropped right on the sidewalk.
Then she turned around, looking annoyed. She walked with the same pace back to where I was standing. I haven't moved an inch from just now, only turning to see her go.
Her face was red as she walked towards me. She then leaned and kissed me. And I thought, damn. She was perfect. She then grabbed my arm and hauled me back in the direction of her car. I couldn't even feel my legs, so I just followed. I heard her mumbling to herself. " About time."
She was perfect. Always had been. She was worth it. Every single bit. And now she's mine. God, I must be dead cause this is heaven.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Precognition
This is my first time blogging on my phone and on my bed at the same time. Woohoo. Thought I try it at least once. I'm too lazy to get my ass up and turn the computer back on. Damn, you really need super tiny fingers to work this thing. Well, great training on my new phone my sweet darling sister bought for me. God, that girl is a saint.
Anyway, after being encouraged by someone, I've been trying very hard to start writing again. I told people I have writer's block, but the truth is that I think I am just lazy. Coupled with my new found repulsion of love stories. Go figure.
I loved the 'me' when I was in love. He was so inspired. So filled with hope. I began writing when I was really love drunk, I guess. Now, the familiar sensation that I used to have is gone, along with the desire to write.
Hmmmm.
I guess it is like a quote I read from Anna Pavlova ( I had to check her name so that I didn't actually quote a dessert. Haha).
To be an artist, you need to know all about love. But you have to learn to make do without it.
Something like that.
I never wanted to be a writer. But I love to daydream. I do it sometimes unknowingly. A habit. I would be a warrior, fighting great armies as I walk into an exam hall. A king, serving my people with their best interest as I lay in my bed waiting to fall asleep. I have my imaginary friends too. They are getting larger in number as the years past though. They occupy my thoughts most of the time. They fill the void where humans should be.
Somewhere, somehow, I picked up the habit of changing the things I felt into words. And I started with love. Should have gone with more mundane things. Like pancakes.
Blog post and stories became how I express my feelings, and I ended up right here. As a writer. And writing is what I love, other than being a biologist. Facts became my answers to questions about the world around me and words became the answers to what I feel as I grow better and worse at the same time.
This post is really not turning out like I thought it would. I wanted to write about some of the dreams that I had. I guess that's life. Just a journey with no clear destination.
I am now going to go to bed and try to wake up and write an epic love story to literally sink the Titanic.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Perception
God, it's about three hours left till the world is altered.
Well, the results of the exams are coming. (Hopefully. God, I just don't understand how the people at the matriculation division do their work. 10 in the morning on a Wednesday is not even close to 12 in the afternoon on a Thursday) And now I am starting to think about all the things that I've done in my life.
Not a good idea.
I had this nostalgic moment a few days ago. I was helping my mom in the kitchen in the morning and I heard something very familiar. It was the sound of a bird. I don't know what kind, but it was quite jarring to hear it. It was like a key, opening my mind to a floodgate of old memories and feelings. It reminded me of the boy I once was. I felt like breaking down in tears yet I couldn't. My mom needed my help. So I shook the feeling off and continued with my chores.
I wanted to cry because at that moment, I was reminded of the young, naive boy who used to have so much happiness in his life. So full of hopes and dreams. So innocent. Yet I also reminded of how he was warped and forged into the man I am now. So much pain and suffering. Anger and rage. Sadness and doubt. All leading to the man standing at that exact moment. It's like when they say your life flashes before your eyes when you are at death's door. It was like that, except I wasn't actually dying. It made me ask the question I've been asking myself under a different light.
Who am I?
Am I a good person? Am I the kind of person people would love or hate? Do I make my parents proud? Am I such a bad person that I am ashamed of my own self?
Well, I guess the answer is not an easy one. But I don't even think it's answerable. We never remain the same person at any moment in time. We shift ourselves constantly. For better or worse. Things change but I believe some part of us remains stoic against all the change around it. We are who we are and we should love and be proud of ourselves.
And as the result is coming, I can't help but think. What will I be next?
Well, the results of the exams are coming. (Hopefully. God, I just don't understand how the people at the matriculation division do their work. 10 in the morning on a Wednesday is not even close to 12 in the afternoon on a Thursday) And now I am starting to think about all the things that I've done in my life.
Not a good idea.
I had this nostalgic moment a few days ago. I was helping my mom in the kitchen in the morning and I heard something very familiar. It was the sound of a bird. I don't know what kind, but it was quite jarring to hear it. It was like a key, opening my mind to a floodgate of old memories and feelings. It reminded me of the boy I once was. I felt like breaking down in tears yet I couldn't. My mom needed my help. So I shook the feeling off and continued with my chores.
I wanted to cry because at that moment, I was reminded of the young, naive boy who used to have so much happiness in his life. So full of hopes and dreams. So innocent. Yet I also reminded of how he was warped and forged into the man I am now. So much pain and suffering. Anger and rage. Sadness and doubt. All leading to the man standing at that exact moment. It's like when they say your life flashes before your eyes when you are at death's door. It was like that, except I wasn't actually dying. It made me ask the question I've been asking myself under a different light.
Who am I?
Am I a good person? Am I the kind of person people would love or hate? Do I make my parents proud? Am I such a bad person that I am ashamed of my own self?
Well, I guess the answer is not an easy one. But I don't even think it's answerable. We never remain the same person at any moment in time. We shift ourselves constantly. For better or worse. Things change but I believe some part of us remains stoic against all the change around it. We are who we are and we should love and be proud of ourselves.
And as the result is coming, I can't help but think. What will I be next?
Monday, June 3, 2013
I don't know.
It's nine in the morning. I haven't slept yet. I'm tired.
I'm listening to Katy Perry-Lost.
I'm a person that always seem to find something wrong with myself. The truth is, everything is wrong with me.
I've been stuck in my own little loop of depression. And I'm angry at myself. All the time. I push everyone that have the remote interest in me away. I don't trust them. I only trust them with what I show everyone around me. I really want to believe that I can really trust people. I do with my whole heart.
But people can never handle the truth.
The truth that I'm not happy with the way I look.
The truth that sometimes I just don't care enough about the people that care for me.
The truth that sometime I just want to attempt suicide just to make people notice me.
The truth that I ask people how are they doing so that I can at least have a chance to say what I feel inside.
The truth that I look at facebook every time just to look whether there is anyone I can talk to, but I wait till forever, to see whether people want to talk to me.
The truth that I have imaginary friends just to cope with how lonely and miserable I feel inside.
The truth that I want to tear myself to pieces just because I....
I just can't. Some things are just too painful. Too dangerous. I fear the repercussion. I almost trusted one person with this truth, but I feel like I should die with it. It's the only way people can go on with their lives without shattering their very perception of me. I want to scream it out loud but I can't.
To say it would make it true. And I just can't have that.
I'm listening to Katy Perry-Lost.
I'm a person that always seem to find something wrong with myself. The truth is, everything is wrong with me.
I've been stuck in my own little loop of depression. And I'm angry at myself. All the time. I push everyone that have the remote interest in me away. I don't trust them. I only trust them with what I show everyone around me. I really want to believe that I can really trust people. I do with my whole heart.
But people can never handle the truth.
The truth that I'm not happy with the way I look.
The truth that sometimes I just don't care enough about the people that care for me.
The truth that sometime I just want to attempt suicide just to make people notice me.
The truth that I ask people how are they doing so that I can at least have a chance to say what I feel inside.
The truth that I look at facebook every time just to look whether there is anyone I can talk to, but I wait till forever, to see whether people want to talk to me.
The truth that I have imaginary friends just to cope with how lonely and miserable I feel inside.
The truth that I want to tear myself to pieces just because I....
I just can't. Some things are just too painful. Too dangerous. I fear the repercussion. I almost trusted one person with this truth, but I feel like I should die with it. It's the only way people can go on with their lives without shattering their very perception of me. I want to scream it out loud but I can't.
To say it would make it true. And I just can't have that.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Happy Now?
I just remembered something.
One of the most weirdest, amazing, brave, mind blowing thing I've ever done.
I was at the hall at my matriculation college. They were having this pep talk, I can't remember for what. They invited this guy from some private college, and he was giving the pep talk, talking about success and shit. I can't remember much of the details. People telling what they want to be, what they want to improve about themselves, all that kind of shit.
He even used me as an example for one of his stories that he was telling. Maybe because I was the only person trying hard enough to be mildly interested. I was in a good mood at the time. Well, I couldn't focus that much, partly because I wasn't that interested and it was too early on a Saturday morning (I think it was Saturday. Well,it was a holiday anyway) to be having a rousing speech on stuff you already know but don't really want to do.
Anyway, we have come to the best part. The guy was talking about how important for us to study well and stuff. He was giving this one example. He used me again as his model. (I know, any more times he used me and I would have to report child abuse and sexual harassment.) I had my reservations but I went along with it, with a truckload of people focusing on me.
He said to me, if i was just a guy working at a gas station and I saw one of my friends driving a BMW and living the high life, what would I feel?
I said, if my life long dream is to be a station manager or something, I would be just okay with it. Hell, I wouldn't give a flying fuck about it.
The guy, I felt, not entirely satisfied with my answer, rephrased his question. He said, if I was just a pump attendant and saw the same scenario, what would I feel?
All I could think of at that moment was one simple thing.
I said, if I was happy with my life, satisfied with everything I have, then I should feel just.....happy?
I couldn't tell if he was a little ticked off with my answer but didn't give a damn. I told him what I wanted to tell him and I felt amazing. He went on with his talk,which I can't remember much cause I was focusing on what I just blabbered to a few hundred people on a mic.
Is it so ingrained in our minds that happiness requires tons of money and a sweet ride to hold a trophy wife?
Is that what happiness is all about?
I lived through half my life with that ideology embedded in my mind.
To be happy, I have to have a bank worshiping me, enough wealth to drown me, and money to feed three thousand generations to come.
I do admit that we all need money at some point of our lives. We can't really live off love, swag and other non-exchangeable, non-physical stuff.
But to an extent where it is the only way to be happy? The only way to feel remotely satisfied with ourselves?
No. I wanted to state to the guy and everyone in that hall that wealth and success is not the assurance, the guarantee of happiness. The problem with the world nowadays is that when we don't get what we want, we assume that we can never be happy. The end.
That's not the way we are supposed to live. Success comes and goes. Money comes and goes. Even wives and husbands comes and goes. But happiness is to be eternally ours. It's not that we have to be happy all the time. It's that to be happy, all we need is ourselves. That's it. Everything else is just a plus.
A hurricane outside. Your house is basically gone. The car is in the ocean. The bank is calling, asking what time is okay to get your head.
Not entirely a happy situation.
But that does not mean we can't be happy. That doesn't mean we have to just accept things as they are and be miserable for the rest of our lives.
A lot of people have been chasing money all throughout their lives. Most got what they wanted. But asked them, are they happy? Are they satisfied with what they have? The answer is usually no. Yet everything around them have changed for the better. What they don't realize is that one thing has not. Themselves.
That is why happiness should start from inside us.
Everything in life is fleeting. Tether happiness to one thing that doesn't fade in life until we die. Ourselves.
We should learn to be independently happy. Despite wealth, health, relationships. We need to instill a new ideology that these things won't make us any happier if we aren't happy in the first place.
One of the most weirdest, amazing, brave, mind blowing thing I've ever done.
I was at the hall at my matriculation college. They were having this pep talk, I can't remember for what. They invited this guy from some private college, and he was giving the pep talk, talking about success and shit. I can't remember much of the details. People telling what they want to be, what they want to improve about themselves, all that kind of shit.
He even used me as an example for one of his stories that he was telling. Maybe because I was the only person trying hard enough to be mildly interested. I was in a good mood at the time. Well, I couldn't focus that much, partly because I wasn't that interested and it was too early on a Saturday morning (I think it was Saturday. Well,it was a holiday anyway) to be having a rousing speech on stuff you already know but don't really want to do.
Anyway, we have come to the best part. The guy was talking about how important for us to study well and stuff. He was giving this one example. He used me again as his model. (I know, any more times he used me and I would have to report child abuse and sexual harassment.) I had my reservations but I went along with it, with a truckload of people focusing on me.
He said to me, if i was just a guy working at a gas station and I saw one of my friends driving a BMW and living the high life, what would I feel?
I said, if my life long dream is to be a station manager or something, I would be just okay with it. Hell, I wouldn't give a flying fuck about it.
The guy, I felt, not entirely satisfied with my answer, rephrased his question. He said, if I was just a pump attendant and saw the same scenario, what would I feel?
All I could think of at that moment was one simple thing.
I said, if I was happy with my life, satisfied with everything I have, then I should feel just.....happy?
I couldn't tell if he was a little ticked off with my answer but didn't give a damn. I told him what I wanted to tell him and I felt amazing. He went on with his talk,which I can't remember much cause I was focusing on what I just blabbered to a few hundred people on a mic.
Is it so ingrained in our minds that happiness requires tons of money and a sweet ride to hold a trophy wife?
Is that what happiness is all about?
I lived through half my life with that ideology embedded in my mind.
To be happy, I have to have a bank worshiping me, enough wealth to drown me, and money to feed three thousand generations to come.
I do admit that we all need money at some point of our lives. We can't really live off love, swag and other non-exchangeable, non-physical stuff.
But to an extent where it is the only way to be happy? The only way to feel remotely satisfied with ourselves?
No. I wanted to state to the guy and everyone in that hall that wealth and success is not the assurance, the guarantee of happiness. The problem with the world nowadays is that when we don't get what we want, we assume that we can never be happy. The end.
That's not the way we are supposed to live. Success comes and goes. Money comes and goes. Even wives and husbands comes and goes. But happiness is to be eternally ours. It's not that we have to be happy all the time. It's that to be happy, all we need is ourselves. That's it. Everything else is just a plus.
A hurricane outside. Your house is basically gone. The car is in the ocean. The bank is calling, asking what time is okay to get your head.
Not entirely a happy situation.
But that does not mean we can't be happy. That doesn't mean we have to just accept things as they are and be miserable for the rest of our lives.
A lot of people have been chasing money all throughout their lives. Most got what they wanted. But asked them, are they happy? Are they satisfied with what they have? The answer is usually no. Yet everything around them have changed for the better. What they don't realize is that one thing has not. Themselves.
That is why happiness should start from inside us.
Everything in life is fleeting. Tether happiness to one thing that doesn't fade in life until we die. Ourselves.
We should learn to be independently happy. Despite wealth, health, relationships. We need to instill a new ideology that these things won't make us any happier if we aren't happy in the first place.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Real-life Noah
Hi.
I haven't been posting anything in a while, ever since I went to Le Matriculation College, but I just got out and....still nothing. Well, I've just been busy, i guess. I guess I should talk a bit on it. It was fun. I met new people. New friends. Learned a lot, and not just about science, maths and shit. About being independent. About who I was, who I am and who I want to be. If you asked me, I'd say that I haven't changed a bit. Maybe that's true deep down. But let's just lie and say I've changed. If we want something, we've got to begin somewhere, and lying is just as good as any place to start.
I'll talk more on that later. Way later.
Well, I have literally forced myself to sit down and write something here. I've been meaning to, but my life is.....complicated at the moment. Precarious. I'm confused, I guess. We all have our brightest and darkest moments.
I could write anything, but I'll warm up my writing finger for now with something simple and less...complicated than my tangled up emotions.
The Notebook.
Super romantic. Very old school kind of love. Just an epic tale of love wrote by Nicholas Sparks. Naturally, I hate it. Haha. If you haven't read it, shoot both your legs and drag your god damn body to the nearest bookstore and steal one copy. Just go. Now. And read.
Noah. He is just..... him. End of story. You just have to read the book. Optionally, see the movie. Unusually, it's near accurate to the book, just some minor details off here and there.
And.... which leads me to a real, living, breathing Noah.
My grandfather.
God, I don't know how he does it.
It all started when my grandmother began to lose her mind. Not literally going crazy. She was slowly dying away. Herself, withering away like a dried husk. Crumbling. Fading. Alzheimer's does that to a person. Sadly, now, even I can't remember her. I try to cling on a memory, anything that relates to her but I just can't. I only seem to know her as someone who lost herself. But at least, deep down, I know she was a person filled with vitality, at least before that horrid disease robbed her of everything she was.
That disease just petrifies me. I hope to God I don't get it. Please. To tell you the truth, some days, I just hate myself. But I never, ever want to forget who I am. I love the good and the bad of me, and to forget who I am is just..... too much. Nowadays, I hate going back to my grandparent's house. Every time I see that woman, the person that cared for my mother before me, lying on that bed, it just breaks my heart.
But, there is just that one thing that I am always at awe at when I do go back there. My grandfather.God, forgive me, but sometimes I don't understand a word he says. I'll be like "Mmmmm, yeah.". Talk about a bad grandchild. I try to understand but he has this accent that really fogs up anything that I can pick up from his speech.
He was a soldier back then. I've always wanted to know what he did back then, but I never got the guts to do so. Don't get me wrong, he is a nice guy, smiles a lot (though he doesn't have much teeth now). I have never seen him get angry at something or someone, not even at some of his pesky grandchildren. But I sense in him a dormant volcano. Poke enough sticks and you might get the next Vesuvius. I guess I inherited that from him. Thanks Atuk. And I didn't want to stir anything he might not want to be stirred.
But the most important thing that I love the most about him is how he take cares of my grandma. He has help, from his eldest son that lives nearby. But emotionally, God, he is still a soldier. He talks to her, as if she could understand. Sometimes she does, I think. I guess when you lived with someone so long, raising children and going through changes together, language is not a requirement to understand each other. My mom thinks it's romantic that he still talks to her. I do too.
He is just like Noah in The Notebook. Loving and caring someone that might not even know who you are. And that is just uber romantic and sweet. I hope and pray, with the best intention, that she goes first before him at least. Because there is no one in this world that can take care of her as best as he does.
That kind of love. I just hope I can have one like that one day. And, God willing, I can give to someone worth while as well.
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