That One Step

I was spending some time in the dark last night - recalling events in glimpses that come together. Almost like a filtered collage of memories that're put on top of each other layer by layer. A little overwhelming, but enough so.

I recalled thinking "Oh well."

It's a handy tool of communication: "Oh well"s.

It serves as a sign that you acknowledge things that have happened, and still have some hope for things about to happen.

Life has been amazing of course. But Life is not Life without turbulence and problems.It's an SOP. In fact, the better your life is, the bigger your problems are. Unless you're effing lucky; which I'm not.

I feel like in this moment, no matter how much I say and whatever it is that I say, it's going to add up to only one little fact. The fact that I have grown to be a better, and more mature person than I used to be.

And I am proud of that. Despite the things that have occurred, this is the silver lining. Above all, this is the only thing I ever wanted.

Memories will still be memories. They well always be kept safely in my mind and in my heart. But time will always be time. And there is no time to go back, but to only move forward.

As I'm writing this, I have one feet ahead of the other. I'm taking that step - the step that will shift me from where I am.

 Cheers to Life.

Como esta?

"How are you?"

Every time I get asked that question, I seem to lose the ability to speak.

Actually, I have no idea where to begin. Not even sure if the person is sincere enough to really know how I'm doing. Or maybe it's a form of conversation-starter so that the person on the other side of the conversation can start rambling about his/her great/shitty life.

Like i.e.

X: How are you?

Me: Err..

X: Hope things are great! By the way, I just bought a new car!! And it has a super engine and..

Me: *constantly nodding head to appear attentive to the conversation*

Yeap.

So what about when I'm the one asking the question?

I gotta admit, sometimes when I ask "how are you?" I expect a really brief answer. Like ten words is pushing it. This happens if I'm on my way to do something or go somewhere and I bum into you. Or if we've only known each other through a mutual friend on Facebook where we constantly see each others' faces on tagged photos. Or you're a distant family member.

Then the ideal situation would be:

Me: Hey! How are you?

You: I'm fine thanks! (Even if you're not) And you?

Me: Yeah, I'm doing well! (Even if I'm not) Listen I gotta run. Nice meeting you!

You: Yeah, you take care!

Two sentences each would suffice.


But, if you are a good friend of mine; someone whom I've made a pact to die with together if Armageddon were to hit, or if the Zombie Apocalypse is real after all.. or my blood and flesh, or someone I sleep and wake up looking at.. then I expect more than a "fine". Coz "fine" does not mean a single legit thing in this world. In fact, in most cases where "fine" is used, the person using it is "not fine".

Demo situation.

Me: Hey! How are you?

You: I'm fine, thanks.

Me: (what does she/he mean by that?!)

Not cool. Not ideal.


Ideal situation where I expect to happen without me having to ask "No, really how ARE you?"

Me: Hey! How are you?

You: OMG. We have to sit down and get coffee.

Me: (Liking the intensity of it already) Wow, ok. Something happened?

You: Yea! You know that job I had? I quit. Bla bla bla (continue story)

That, my friend, is a REAL conversation. This applies to online conversations as well. (Not that I'd appreciate it if we were to be face to face and still be talking via our gadgets. No sir.)

So lesson of the day, it is largely important for every single human being no matter what ethnicity, language or the kind of brutal or civilized culture you grow up with to know that it is immensely important to know how to communicate well especially in these two key, most commonly used, conversation starters.

If you ask someone "How are you?" make sure you mean it. And if you're on the other end, having to answer the question.. know your place and answer adequately.

Thank you, class dismiss.

Keepin' it 100%

Got real inspired today. It must be the Friday mojo.

Hell, that's why people love Fridays.

You do nothing, be a fool then get mad genius ideas.

Like ma boi always say "We keep it one hunned!"

Yeah. 100%.

And that's how imma do.

Pursuit of Happyness

It is such a common thought that happiness is a destination..

.. that when you finally reach the destination - in whatever form it is that you have imagined - the sensation is indescribable.. that you will have sparks going on around you and neon lights blinking, illuminating the word: HAPPY. HAPPY. HAPPY.

Like, I am sure I will be happy if I can drive a Porsche.

But no.

As we have been told a lot, happiness is the journey - the pursuit.

And I have learned to actually believe that saying.

I find that happiness comes in small packages too. That it happens in moments you would normally dismiss. 

For example. Most people think they are only happy when they land the job of their dreams. Or get a huge a mount of money. Or get married.

Yes that makes you happy too.

But relatively speaking, you can feel as happy when someone actually replied your text instantly, or someone you've not heard from in a long time gave you a surprise call.

What I'm trying to say here is that happiness is defined in so many ways and it is up to you.

For me now, to get good, quality 10-min nap in between my hectic day makes me happy.

To share a meal with my boyfriend, even at a roadside stall makes me happy.

To just see my parents for 30 seconds when I say bye to them before going to work at 4am in the morning makes me the happiest girl in the world.

I want to be grateful with all the little things that I never noticed but have made me happy before.

I want to believe that happiness is attainable.

I want to always be happy, and to always find things that will make me happy when I am not.

Belief

What is life without belief?

For belief roofs reason, meaning; the mere existence of the human kind.

Belief - in whatever form it comes in, whatever package that enwraps it - is truth in its entirety.

In part of belief is trust; for to trust wholly is to believe and thus to believe is to consequently devote.

Devotion, is to surrender and submit with consent - to consciously give yourself up to something because you believe in it.

Belief is the mother that gives birth to values that make humans more than just bodies.

For who am I; who are you, without belief?

The Nomad

"What is it about solitude and nothingness?"

Of Souls + Water: The Nomad by NRS Films

We are all nomads - constantly moving from one point of our lives to another, always changing from one prism of our self to another.

Being Anon.

People notice. They observe. They take mental notes.

Truth is, you are not thinking too much.. they really do.

And most days, you want to just be a wall; any common wall. A paint-coated wall.

Maybe a thing, anything, that has an amazing camouflage ability.

Water, perhaps? Simply because you cannot single out one drop of water out of a larger body of water.

You just want to blend in, to just be another face in the crowd.

To be a speck in a pool of spots. A string of hair on a head full of it; one minute sand on a beach; a star amidst all the stars in the universe.

To be nothing, nobody.. but anonymous.

Higher Love

Higher Love by James Vincent McMorrow


Apart from being thoroughly obsessed with Icelandic musical maestros, I have also been extremely infatuated with Irish folk singer songwriters i.e. the above and Damien Rice.

On a slightly different note, I have been very happy lately. In fact it is an impossible amount of happiness that I thought I would never feel.

I was thinking loudly the other day; you lose some, you win some. And how true are those words that I have now gain something so much better, something I have only been dreaming of my entire life.

I have only been so used to expressing my anger and my sorrows that I am incapable of showing how happy I feel, but I am learning and that's something I'm happy to do.

I Wish I Didn't Love You

by Chelsea Fagan

It’s hard to remember the time before I loved you. It exists all in some kind of vague, dull haze — a primordial soup of half-feelings and tired complacency. I know that it was good at the time, that I felt the peaks and valleys of happiness just as acutely as I do now, but I can’t remember it. It’s as though life was in black-and-white then, that every edge was dulled and noise muffled, and I didn’t know that color was an option. It was perfectly acceptable to go through life in this cloudy facsimile of what life could actually be, unaware that so much could change with the addition of a certain kind of love. How could I have known that the grass could be this Technicolor green, that morning coffee could be so deep and rich and sweet, that clouds could stand out so perfectly puffy-white against a sky too blue to look at? I wish I didn’t know this world, that you hadn’t shown it to me, because I can’t ever go back to the muted one I lived in before.

I wish I did not constantly struggle to remind myself that I am good, too, that I don’t need anyone to complete me or to make things okay — that I am not a puzzle with a jagged piece missing in the center. But I must often be talked back from the ledge of consumption, of feeling as though life is distinctly less worth living if this love does not exist within it. I tell myself that such a position is incredibly risky, that it is taking a jump without a parachute and hoping that you land on something soft — but I don’t listen. I am so much happier to let the undertow take me out far, far past the shore, to a distance I could not swim back from, rather than spend my days fighting against this wonderful, comforting current.

Will I forget who I am without you? What is the ultimate emotional toll of seeing yourself more as half of a whole than an entity to be cultivated and loved and improved on its own? Does one fade further and further into dependency and compromise, a copy of a copy of a copy of the full person they used to be? I wish I didn’t worry that I was suppressing some incredible life of personal agency and freedom. I wish that I could say that life is still being lived entirely on my terms, that I didn’t consider my future and my decisions as things to be made by consensus of two. I think about your plans, and wonder first if they coincide with mine. I wonder where they will take me, how they will twist and tangle with the plans I see, and what it will end up doing to the both of us. There is so much to love about the life lived totally for oneself, that considers only the dreams and aspirations and pleasures of one, in which life is a limitless hallway of open doors. And yet, I find myself even more excited at the prospect of taking your life and your desires into mine — did I lose that young, free, enterprising spirit? I wish I didn’t care so deeply about what you think.

And there is always the possibility, no matter how deep and consuming this love is right now, that it could all come to an unceremonious end one day. Like someone switching off a light as they walk out of a room, the connection that we have invested so deeply in could be stopped too abruptly to prepare for. There could come a moment when you or I wake up and feel markedly less passionate than we did the day before, when our love turns into a vague kind of discomfort, when we realize that we have fallen out of whatever this was and need to immediately begin looking for the EXIT sign. What if the other is still deeply involved? What if they watch as the love crumbles before their eyes, pulls farther and farther away from itself, until you hold the other in your arms and feel as though you’re grasping at gusts of wind? I have had nightmares of confronting this reality, of accepting that so much of my happiness was constructed on something so fragile, so impossible to guarantee. What then? Do I just put one foot in front of the other and pretend as though this whole passage of my life never occurred?

Life would be so simple without this love, without the fear and complexity and consideration of another impossible-to-understand human that it brings. I could live every day secure in the knowledge that I couldn’t be hurt, that I was in control of my destiny, and that nothing was stopping me from living in a perfect, selfish playground of the id. I could fall in love with myself instead, be thrilled by my own successes and challenges, and not sacrifice an ounce of my personal agency. I could be free. But I can’t pretend that I want that, that such a life — no matter how appealing it might have been before I met you — could ever appeal to me now. There is a part of me that, no matter how terrifying such love is, has become fully addicted to the feeling of symbiotic need, that gets a contact high from every sentence that starts with “we.” I wish I didn’t love you in such a precarious, unfiltered way; but I am so very, very glad that I do.

From: http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/i-wish-i-didnt-love-you/#Bl3oJjLyImQ7f6M3.99

Your Call

Funny how life works is working out.

Yep.

In My Way

It rained, out of the blue.

We all thought it was going to be sunny all day; as the morning sun looked promising.

So we hung endless row of clothes, socks, underwear on pegs; dusted all the shoes, carpets.. whatever that is in need of a greeting sun.

And then it rained, and I was left alone to bring all of that in. By the end, I was soaked.

I thought, Why must it rain? Why?

And then I thought again:

Why not?


So I ran into the heavy rain that was pounding on my skin and just stood there. It's just water anyway.

I haven't played in the rain since I was a kid and have mucus hanging from my nose. This should be good.

And I stood there for God-knows how long; with eyes closed and letting the stinging coldness of possible acid rain simmer in to my flesh.

I loved it. Refreshing.

While the beat of millions by millions of raindrops stomping on surface entertain my ears, I recalled the overtly famous Malay proverb:

Kusangka panas hingga ke petang, rupanya hujan di tengahari.


Like life, things happen unexpectedly. Things happen unplanned. And like that Carly Rae Jepsen song "Call Me Maybe".. all I did was throw a wish in the well, and now you're in my way.

What Fate?

Being in a dark room is never helpful, especially when you're trying to be all sunshiny. What you can do is switch on the lights (duh), or leave the room.

So what do you do when you face a wall? Turn back? Well you can. Or you can also crash through it, or climb over it. Whatever catches your fancy. The point is, you don't have to be stuck looking at the wall forever. You can do something about it.

A wall will only be an obstacle if you view it that way. Other than that, it's just a friggin' wall. 

Vacuum of Humanism

I am not crazy - in fact I'm perfectly normal; which makes me crazy. Firstly because I just denied it and secondly because anyone would know that any normal human being is far from being normal.

I like trespassing other people's brains, and bulldoze their over-developed beliefs and convictions. I am an anti-principle (whatever it may be) when it comes to other people; but of course I am a person of strong, rooted principles myself. I believe in having beliefs, yet I don't believe for believing is deceiving.

I also like truths and honesty for they tell you things about things for what they are; but a white lie can never hurt when it is only meant to salvage. Therefore lying is alright, when the situation is apposite - but is telling the truth obligatory under any circumstances? If the answer is no then a lie and a truth weighs the same on a situational scale.

So question here is, what does this make me?

a) A crazy person who doesn't believe and lie
b) A normal person who has principles and tells the truth

They all want you until they have to deal with you.

We keep looking for truths in everything we do, everywhere we go and in everyone we meet. We speak of it as if it is tangible; as if it can be measured; as if we deserve it.

Some say that Truth is God, and we shall look no further. Some say Truth is honesty, and that it is one hard to come by these days. Some say it's overrated and abused like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Some say truth hurts.

I don't give a sh-- about people's take on it - all I know is it's out there; and in here (in my being).

I keep trying to imagine this world where there is only truth, and no forms of deceit or lies exist - but it would be terrible, in a way. It wouldn't be functioning right, somehow. Maybe this is a by-product of centuries of cognitive and behavioural conditioning in reaching the Ideal.

Maybe we deliberately lie - so we can keep looking for that thing called Truth.

repeat repeat

From here.

A repetition that is not a routine, but a reminder that reoccurs in my conscience and my dreams. Almost like a heartbeat. Or the rippling sound of waves. Or the glimpses of smiles that cameo in my mind.

On 'success'

from here

(Taking cue from Wideman from the previous post, I'll share my two cents. Heh)

I believe that failure is not a form of falling; instead, it is the act of sinking, where you will soon float again. Gracefully.

If you must fail, then fail in style - because success is always unexpected, so when the day finally comes, you've already dressed the part.

But remember, failure is only as temporary as success. So, always paddle to float.

There is no success without failure.

The one kind of love that won't disappoint

So everybody in this world has at one point in a day thought about Love. Somehow, some way - be it good or bad. No matter how overrated it is. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Having convinced you to think that it is ok, in total contrast, I have now chosen to (though as impossible as it may seem) not think about it. Why? Because haha. Because I have no idea. Because maybe I think it should not be over-thought and that we should let the chips fall where they may.

Like how a stranger flashed a dashing smile at me this morning and held the door so that I can swish-swash my way in elegantly through the majestic entrance. Pure, platonic love. Out of pure kindness for another human being.

Therefore if you're feeling a tad lonely on this cold Friday night, do know you're not meant to be so. The choice is yours buddy. Go out, have fun, dance in the rain. Whatever. That's how love happens. When it's the last thing you're thinking about.

For all you lonely souls, wandering the urban landscape with trailing wet footsteps on the puddled pavements, I offer you the one kind of love I have: the love for music.

Life's too short to think too much. Have a wonderful weekend, and I mean it.

Everything is One by Inner Prisms

At the edge of the edge

The perpetual conundrum of aspiration and reality will soon exhaust its entity. Is the prerogative mine to carve a decision of being only on one side? Will I regret the retrospective regret? Is the choice inevitable?

Confessions of a Hairdresser

It was a normal visit to the salon - after the photoshoot I had the other day, my hair was just abnormal; it was like tali rafia knotted together and I was walking around with a rug on my head like that was what it literally looked like. It's almost semi-afro and semi-dreads.

I shampooed, and it got worst. The amount of hairspray they piled on my hair was just insane. So I made a visit to the salon - a place I haven't been a long time (hello black roots and split-ends), to get my hair fixed.

Little did I know, I was about to get more than just hair treatment - a spiritual talk, a penny for the thought, by none other than the hairdresser. A note though, this is not your normal salon; it's one of those dodgy ones that noone goes to (yeah I needed something fast and wallet-friendly).

So this hairdresser is 35 years old (she told me), and let's call her Kak Nor. So Kak Nor is an Indonesian who has been working and living here in Malaysia with her husband for many years. She dresses like any normal "urban" woman would dress - purple blouse (with a little bit of cleavage just enough to tease the mature-men's imagination), black leggings, 4-inch flip-flops and large loop earrings. Her hair was..never mind.

So she had that dozy look on her when I got in, asked me what I wanted and quickly attempted to
kill me with the water-proof robe she choked at my neck.

"Sit", she said.

Noone else was in the salon. Great, I thought. I'm gonna perish in her hands.


Then she started massaging my head with shampoo. The lather tipples down my forehead and nearly got in my eye. I didn't dare move to wipe it off.

I looked at her through the mirror and she looked at me.

"Puasa tak adik?", she asked. I nodded.

"Kakak ni, dulu jahil - puasa kadang-kadang je. Tarawikh, lagi tak pernah!" she said, sounding almost surprised with herself.

I didn't react anything, as I don't want to either encourage or insult her. So I just nodded, to indicate that I'm listening. At intervals, I would look down at the  Hello! Magazine she handed me earlier from a year ago.

She continued with her life story.

"Tapi Ramadhan kali ni, akak terasa sangat-sangat. Rasa mukjizat dia. Akak puasa, lepas tu akak pergi tarawikh. Semalam, buat pertama kali dalam hidup akak, akak buat Solat Tasbih. Ya Allah dik, rasa macam magic tau nggak!"


She speaks Malay fluently, but sometimes her Indonesian accent surface.

"Entah lah nak cakap macam mana dik, akak rasa jahil sangat sebelum ni, baru aku tau tinggi rendah langit tuh!"


And then she continues. She told me she hadn't sleep for the past few nights, as she joined the group around her house to 'submit' themselves in prayer in the wee hours. I've always been told that this is the best time to pray - when everyone else is asleep.

She said during the day, she spent more time than she used to to think about Islam. Submitting to God has been the best thing that's ever happened to her, she said. Now she truly understood how people can sacrifice anything and/or everything in the name of God. She felt small, and I saw her shed a tear as she spoke the words to me. I thought shampoo got into her eyes.

"Dik, kalau lah ada satu nasihat yang akak boleh bagi, nanti kau keluar dari kedai ni akak nak kau masih ingat nasihat ni; apa yang kita pakai kat luar ni hanyalah hiasan, benda zahir, tapi kalau hati kau bersih dik, Tuhan pasti sayang kau.. 


Akak nak tanya, bila kau puasa, kau lapar tak? Lapar kan? Jadi supaya tak lapar kita kena makan kan? Kita kena makan nasi, sayuran, minum air supaya badan sihat. Itu semua untuk badan..untuk jasad kita. Roh kau, kau bagi makan tak?"


Err, tak pasti lah kak, I answered almost quizzically. I wanted to know where she's getting at.

"Roh kita pun kita kena bagi makan tau..tau apa makanan roh? Zikir lah! Zikir tu adalah makanan roh kita. Bila akhirat nanti, amalan zikir kita lah yang jadi bekalan makanan kita.. Badan kita akan sakit dan mati. Roh kita hanya sakit, kalau kita tak bagi dia khasiat, tapi dia tak akan mati. Roh kita kekal sampai bila-bila. Jadi dik, kau kena bagi bekal secukupnya dekat roh kau.."


Wow. That really got to me. Have I got enough "food" for my soul? By the time she finished blow-drying my hair, I just got goosebumps all over me. I felt scared. She told me I shouldn't be scared, but to be grateful that I still have time to make a change.

One final thing she told me:

"Kau tau dik, orang yang sembahyang tunggang-terbalik pun belum tentu masuk syurga. Inikan lagi orang macam akak ni. Dalam berbilion-bilion orang dalam dunia ni, cuma 88,000 orang saja yang akan masuk syurga Ustaz tu kata. Kau fikir dik, berapa ramai orang ada dalam duni ni sekarang? Tak kira lagi orang dari zaman-zaman dulu! Wallahu'alam lah dik, mungkin yang lain tu akan terima hukuman dulu baru masuk syurga..apa pun kita cubalah yang terbaik.."

Sigh. Too much information from a hairdresser. As I step out from the salon, my head got heavier, my mind thinking and I felt almost numb. But in a good way, you know? Like an eye-opener.

However heavy I felt after, I still think that I'll definitely make another visit there; not only my hair looks wayyyy better, but she also gave me a discount, a free sample of hair tonic, and one really good lecture.

Funny how random people can affect you.

The Chosen One

The Chosen One by Maher Zain

Some may think he is overrated, pergi rumah orang kahwin lagu Maher Zain, pergi masjid lagu Maher Zain, but the truth is, his songs are good.

I think his other songs are pretty average - standard spiritual songs but with a little bit of pop.

But this one particular song of his is just so..soothing. I saw the video first on Astro in the wee hours when I couldn't sleep, and after watching it, I just felt so calm. The song so comforting and the video so compelling.

It made me believe that out of all the evil in the world, there are still kindness out there.

So in conjunction with Bulan Ramadhan, I dedicate this song to you all. In fact, there are truly many things we can learn from the Prophet.

For me, the most important lesson would be Patience.