. . . . .
@ 15:01
Three more weeks to Sibu, Sarawak. Can't wait!
Labels: expression, friends, life, travel
Right now I feel like postponing my graduation. Yes. I can graduate next semester but do I really want to? I don't think I really live my university years. Haven't yet sort out any universities I'm aiming for pursuing my masters at, haven't sent out resumes, heck, haven't even prepared one. Not even have much to be put in it anyway. But my course mates ensured me that graduating early is the best choice. Taekwondo mates, in return, haunt me with inquiries: Why? Why early? What are you gonna do? Why the rush? Peer pressure, indeed making me dwell in this cul-de-sac. Next semester, short semester, the other next semester? Pick one or forever hold your peace. Somehow, a little part of me begs for a therapist. But that thug ain't gonna live with the choice made. I will. Istikharah prayer. Ok. Noted. But what else? Yes, I've listed the pros and cons of graduating early and later. None gave me a precise answer. Ya see, this has developed into quite a monster. Making me angry throughout the semester, feeding me frustrations and whatnot just for a single deadly choice. Well, not that deadly. To be honest, I really don't know what will happen ahead; after graduation. Answering What Do You Love Doing questions is easy but making the right choices isn't. The end of the tunnel is filled with vagueness. Like I'm disallowed at making a choice despite liking so many things. My soul needs to calm down. These pestering voices overwhelm, yes, so I need to calm down. Deep down, I don't want to graduate early. Graduate early, are you kidding me? My train just got off the track and at the moment, I'm still lifting the heavy wheels back to where they belong. The engine hasn't warmed up yet but I choose to get off of it and leave it there? No way. So be it I'm late at holding that scroll in my hands. At least I have more time to fill in the empty blanks of my will-yet-be-written resume. Oh great. I've made my choice. By ranting it out here, lol. And if I choose to finish in solid 4 years, I can add Creative Writing subject I've always wanted. Hooo Yeahhh!
Labels: disorder, gerascophobia, life, nonfiction, rant, time
Monday, 24 December 2012 @ 03:05
Staring about the dragon-shaped cloud, long, spread through the light blue sky, I heard sighs from my tired father. The rest of us in the car were a bit quiet except for the loud Korean music from Asyraf's phone.
In another 100 metres, turn slightly right, says the woman's voice from Nokia Drive, out of the blue.
Hey ho! Hey ho! *foreign gibberish words*, barks the Korean singer.
I felt a little old, sitting quietly in the car, slightly irritated by the noise from the speakers. I wished for some classical music to match with the stream of trees outside the car window. The Dragon cloud was really looking all grand; its head on our left, its lengthy body curvy all the way to the front and elongated to the right side of the car. As if shielding us all through our long tiring journey home. It made me forgot about my fatigue days I've left behind. It made me temporarily deaf about the disturbing da-da-da-dum-cak-kala-dum-das-tas from the earlier speakers.
"Can you please turn down the volume?" Even asking this to my brother who's humming the unknown song made me felt old. Not sure why I asked him that when it didn't bother me so much then.
"Why should I?" He rebelled.
"I think you should quiet down. The song is..." Mama said suddenly and went back to sleep. Apparently she was too tired to finish her words. The music then played a humdrum tone.
Then, Nisah invited us to play the Only-Three-Words game. Despite the low battery life of our Samsung Tab, she touched the screen picking out Memo. She typed, Special Day, as the title and we began playing. Each of us got to type only three words and turned out none of our sentence made sense. It was easy to detect which sentence was whose. Asyraf's were full of weird animal characters. Nisah's were full of feelings and mispelled Mat Rempit-ish words. Mine were of more advanced vocabularies and those made the two laughed to teary eyes.
The day was about to embrace night time. Dusk it was when we were asked to stop our giggles.
"What did I said about laughing too much? It darkens the heart. Say Astaghfirullahala'ziim, now," mama ordered Nisah. I sensed jealousy from her for not being able to have fun like us three. But then I realised Nisah did laugh the loudest. Instantly, she recited the Arabic words. Repetitively, she recited it again to prevent her from being drifted away too much.
We continued playing until our story developed a very disturbing plot filled with neurotic characters; involving ants, elephants with four trunks, monkeys with four wings, a goat, a danseur grandfather and a mysterious narrator called "I". That "I" also turned out to be having a dilemma of either winning his incestuous desires or his unrequited love for ants. He was also obsessed by a goat who ate cabbages but wanted to eat rice instead. Overall, it was strangely hilarious. Since mama hated when we laugh Macam Orang Tak Ingat Tuhan, our laughter sunk to a whisper.
The game slowly turned boring. Apart from the dying Tab, mama's phone, my phone, our tummy asked to be filled and our minds couldn't think of anything creative to be written. Ayah stopped by at a mosque for us to perform jama' ta'dim before finding us a restaurant for dinner.
While waiting for our six-year-old sister, Alesha to finish her maghrib, we reread the story and giggled. Despite the long journey, absurd short story written with the collaboration of a 21-year-old, a 14-year-old and a 12-year-old, I felt light. It's good to be reunited.
Wednesday, 19 December 2012 @ 12:08
Ask the
world to feed you love
and the sun
will enfold you
its warmth
will remind you
of blankets
of the seas
the low tide
waves
soft
caressing your skin
comfort will
it bring
Ask the
world to feed you love
and the moon
will smile at you
its light
will guide your lips
from one tip
to the other tip
ear to ear
soon you'll
hear
crickets
sing
peace will
it bring
Ask the
world to feed you love
and trees
will embrace you
their twigs
will scratch the threads of your clothes
thrust into
your skin; from head to toe
blood shall
flow
still, the
leaves
will shelter
you forever
while you
stand beneath them alone
they'll be
the roof of your home
safety will
it bring
Ask the
world to feed you love
and
mountains will call out to you
their icy
tip breeze will eerily
echo a
powerful melody
of coldness
and agony
but dress
your mind with the garments of a king
and continue
climbing with arms reaching
one step
onto the other
your feet
will know no shiver
your teeth
will know no quiver
and when you
are up there
ask your
eyes to conquer
the every
delights of the earth
success will
it bring
Ask the
world to feed you love
and you will
find a coffee shop
its sensuous
design may tingle your heart
its
fragrance's divine; may toy with you mind
intoxicate
you to welcome yourself in
as lightness
dances all over your skin
and you will
float about
till you
drop on the floor
and you see
there before
your eyes
your ears
your nose
your tongue
a face
of a
familiar stranger
who rhymes
with your future
and when
both gazes meet
war will it
bring
sickness
will it bring
madness will
it bring
but so does
comfort
but so does
peace
but so does
safety
but so does
success
love,
will it bring.
Labels: bad poetry, earth, human, life, love