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.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
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
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