Those Days

You're six years old and lived next to your grandparents. Time was a smudged glass in a summer haze. You spent your days without shoes and watched your feet, praying callouses form on your heels. Your mother had a hard brush to rub hers away but you waited for the day when you'll be able to boast, "look how far I've walked. Look how many layers I carry."

Six was a small age. Six was sweet potato and tea in the evening. Six was cold ice cream tube from a rusty freezer. Six was polka-dot pants and pink cotton t-shirts. Six was leaning against your grandma's knees as she braided your long, wet hair. Six was a singing time.

The evening smelled like grill smoke and wet dew, burned wood chips and yards of flowers. People stood outside in their yards. Fine day. It was. The tree branches formed shade over the yards like a suburban rain forest, and sunlight slipped in rings onto the tall grass through the green leaves. You sat in your backyard, on the edge of the sandbox. If you're not careful, you'll get a splinter on the back of your thigh. You're always careful. You made a path in the grass from your house to your grandparents. Home was communal, a haven. You watched for smoke to rise over the brown roof of your grandparent's home. Tuesday, there was nothing. Wednesday, you waited. On Thursday, a puff of white settled into the air, a balloon rising with a halfheartedness like smoke from the hookah's the caterpillars in Alice in Wonderland smoke with a lazy ease.

Hookahs. Alice in Wonderland. You went to town with your grandma and picked out a coloring book with Alice in it. You carried it to grandma and presented it with a proud smile. "This is what I want." Later, you struggled through the pages, confused and unhappy by the incomplete color pencils in your stationery box.

That Thursday evening, you climbed the stone steps to the small backyard patio where your grandpa stood in front of the grill. He had on a white thin shirt and his hands were on his back as he watched the chicken on the grill. "Hi", you said. He gave you a look that means, I know what you're up to, and with the tongs, snipped a bit of the skin from one of the wings. "Be careful, it's hot," he said, and your fingers burnt when he handed you the piece of skin. It melted on your tongue, the fat sizzled and formed a fire in your belly.

He turned a chicken wing over and one drops into the embers. You knew what comes next. He picked the wing up with the tong, brushed the charcoal from the edge, and winked. "That's your grandma's." It came every time and you still laughed. It's tradition, in the smallest sense. He gave you another piece of skin before you walked on the cool stones making up the steps down from the deck. You ran barefoot back to your house.

Those good old days..

My grandparents died so many years ago, when I was in high school. And I dreamed about them recently. How I wish they were there on my wedding day. Well..I'm sure they're watching over me. I miss them so much. 

The Special Thing in my Mom I Hope to Pass Down

I've been thinking a lot about my parents lately...who they are, who they've made me. People talk a lot about the mistakes their parents made, all the cycles they hope to break. And my parents aren't perfect, of course, but what I'm really holding on to these days is everything they did right. They set the bar in so many ways, and I can only hope to love like them.

By the way...I think I can finally share the good news: I'm pregnant and my baby is due in April next year! If you've been wondering why it's been super quiet around these parts lately, well, now you know! I honestly just couldn't sit down to write about real life, so I've been focusing on my pregnancy and trying to wrap my mind around what's ahead. We're so, so excited, and I can't wait for this next chapter.

So when you're expecting your first child, the avalanche of parenting advice that rushes your way can be more than a little overwhelming. There are suggestions from friends, tips from family members, link after link of parenting stories online. And then, of course, there are all the pointers you pick up on your own.

More than anything, of course, as I try to imagine myself as a mother, I look to my mom. I remember the way she tucked me in when I was little, the music box that played, the final words she said each night: "I love you." I remember the notes she left in my lunchbox all the way through primary school, the times she saved the day by just being there. Again and again, I've replayed scenes where she was more selfless than I'm afraid I'll ever be and more empathetic than, at times, I may have deserved. I remember feeling safe, always.

She's not perfect, of course, nobody is, although she's a perfectionist. Sometimes she's way too perfectionist. Her punctuality makes her always in a rush, she's the queen of neatness, and sometimes she cares so deeply that I hesitate to share the tough things with her, afraid she'll panic for me. There's one thing, though, one quality of my mom's, that I'm vowing to pass on, and that's her relentless need to celebrate the little things.

Every time I got an A on an exam, the paper made its way onto our refrigerator for the week. Whenever I won first place in school debate, I got to pick what we had for dinner. On each birthday, mom ordered a cake and cooked so many foods and invited everyone to celebrate. There was the time she planned a surprise party for me...actually, many times. The woman loves surprises.

Sometimes I wonder where that heart of gold comes from. Maybe it's her roots, or from a life lived in, or maybe she took after the people who raised her. In any case, it's second nature to her, and the point is: she knows how to show love, and she does it. It's as simple and as difficult as that.

My mom and I are living apart now, since I'm married and currently living with my husband, but still she finds ways to celebrate the special moments. I come from a huge family. My parents have 6 kids and 12 grandchildren, and my mom's babysitting more often than not. Still, as big as the family has gotten, that's never diluted her love for any of us. There's always plenty to go around, and she makes sure we all feel it, not just on holidays or on birthdays or when the major milestones happen, but every day, in the smaller moments.

I hope I'll someday do the same. I'm definitely going to try.

Priceless Birthday

Brunch at Upperstar with my fiance, his mom and sister

My family threw me a surprise party at KFC

Fruity ice cream cake, my favorite

Twenty five 

My 25th birthday was sunny, simple, sweet and full of fabulous surprise. There were time well spent with my family, long and lingering dinners with Ifo, coffee with friends, and a whole lot of special, pinch-me moments from the birthday weekend. My cheeks are rosy, my stomach aches from laughing too hard and eating far too many food, and, well, 25 is off to a pretty good start. For me, birthdays tend to inspire a bit of reflection. Each year I look back at the year behind me, and I have to say, if 25 treats me half as well as 24, I'll be a lucky girl indeed. Fast forward a year and everything's changed, everything but the people beside me. And that's really all that matters, isn't it? Thanks again for all the sweet birthday wishes! :)

Quick Update

Hey, everyone. It's been a crazy month. I joined a camp for 3 days at Manis Manis Nature Resort, became a facilitator, my team won The Best Team award, I got to meet new friends, got to know my students and other teachers closer and we had so much. It was awesome, despite the fact that I can't sleep at nights because I heard things..well, you know, the place's haunted. I came home with bruises all over my legs. Damn you, ghost. Lol. 

the winning team

Then I went to Kuala Lumpur and stayed there for a week. It's a sudden trip, so unplanned. I was actually sending my cousin off as he got a job at KLIA as an immigration officer, and at the same time being his companion to adapt in a new place, and looking for house/room to rent. We grew up together, we're like brother and sister, so I can't just let him do everything all by himself. Yes, he's grown-up, but he's always like a little brother to me and I care about him. Plus he'll be away for a long time and we can't see each other often, so it's the only chance for me to give what I can as a sister. 

with my cousin and his friend

And recently I had a brief catch up with my friends after a month. Ah I missed them so much. We went to beach, ate the newly trending ice cream in vase and watched a beautiful sunset. 

Wait, did I mention that I'm teaching again? Ah yes, but my previous contract has ended and for now I'm just staying at home, waiting for a call from school officer to renew my contract. I sound like a freelance teacher, huh. Well, it's fun somehow. Unlike regular teachers, up to this day I've taught more than 2 subjects; Maths, Science, English, Music, Visual Art, ICT, Technical Skills, and Geography. Lol. 

So that's all for now. Till next time. ^^

Breathing

"Your true passion should feel like breathing. It's that natural." - Oprah

I loved watching The Oprah Winfrey Show and I almost never missed an episode. That seems to be at the center of what she stands for. Self-awareness, consciousness, knowledge of your spirit and your truth and your own physical presence. I think the important message is to question, recognize, and improve yourself. What I appreciate most about Oprah is how confidently she talks about personal passions. How wisely she speaks of that inner fire, the feeling of destiny, of things that make you feel most yourself. I've been asked why I write. And when I answer, I admit that I don't write to be read. I write for the sake of writing. For the process, the struggle, and the unique elation that comes during the sweet, split-second moment that inspiration strikes. Mostly, I write to know myself. To me, writing's about discovering the shape of my thoughts and then tracing and retracing that shape until it becomes something clear and crisp, something I can recognize, maybe even something I can understand. 

Honestly, some days the words don't come easily. Some days I find myself forcing them out, racking my brain or my journal..or, well, random internet prompts..for that magic spark of the idea. Other days, though, Oprah's right, it's really like breathing. Instinctive and spontaneous, habitual and liberating and subconscious. Those days, writing is a sign of life. But today, this is all I can write. I was going to write a recap of Syawal, to tell a story about the wonderful celebration of Hari Raya. Well...you know how good the pictures can tell the story. ;)

Raya with family:

Raya with friends:

Syawal has always been a great month because it's when all of the family members gather together and it's also when I can meet my friends. Sometimes I wish I could go back to those moments and freeze them. Family and friends are my passion. True passion feels like breathing. They're the sign of my life. :)

On My Bookshelf

With my new year's resolution to do more, I've basically turned it into a read-more situation. Ten Things I've Learnt About Love by Sarah Butler has completely blown me away. If I'm being honest, I bought the book for its cover, but the writing is poetic and surprising, each line is more poignant and insightful than the last. It's obvious that Sarah has a unique, artistic way of looking at the world, which comes through in the way she describes letters as colors and in the way she uses sharp, clever lists to open each chapter. I'm absolutely smitten with her work and altogether charmed.

I could go into the plot and all the smart nuances of the story, but for me, it's far more about the artistry of her writing and the feelings she evokes. I'm attached to the idea of place, to the way we build and create our own versions of "home" in the spaces and people we care about. Sarah echoed the same sort of idea in her thoughtful description of her book, calling it "an investigation of how and where we are at home; a way of asking whether we can feel at home without a physical house and vice versa; and a consideration of the role of family and relationships in making (or not making) a home."  Beautiful, right?

Anyway. You know how sometimes you feel like there's a line in a song or a book or a movie that's written just for you? And that if you're able to meet that writer or that musician for a cup of tea, surely you'd become the best of friends and talk about all the wonders of the world? Well, there were some lines for me in this book, and one that truly took me aback. Here's the line:

There are people in my situation who stick to the same place, who draw an invisible line around themselves and won't go outside of it, but I don't know where you are, so I keep moving.

Click here to read my review. ^^

Mama

Moms are great. 

And we should celebrate them every day of the year. 

Because every day is Mother's Day, when it comes to the person who gave you life. 

You're continually amazed by how much love a mom can have, and how much she gives every day. 

You never forget the sacrifices she made for you. 

And now that you're a little bit older, you understand that even though she could be tough, she only wanted the best for you. 

And all you ever wanted was to make her proud and to make her smile. 

She taught you how to be a good person and that it's the little, everyday gestures that really matter. 

So make sure you're always there for the ones who were there for you from the start. 

Happy Mother's Day. ^^

From Aemy's Lab: Salted Fish Sambal

I used to hate cooking. Why? Because it was boring. (This just in: It is not.) Well, the real reason I hated it is because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, no confidence whatsoever that I'd ever be able to navigate my way around the kitchen. 

My mom is an amazing cook. So much of my childhood was spent sitting in the kitchen, watching her whip up elaborate meals for us. She goes through the motions without thinking, adds ingredients without measuring. So I decided to dive in. Well, okay, maybe mom pushed me in a little bit. I can't just sit and watch her cooking forever. I'm not living in a castle waiting for my dinner to be served. So mom taught me to cook and she convinced me that I'd fall in love with cooking if only I learned how. And so I did learn. And so I do love it. Mom's always right. :)

Sambal dish is part of main course in our place, with chili base paste stir-fry to fragrant before adding the other main ingredients. They can be vegetable or seafood. One of my favorites is salted fish. So recently, using mom's recipe, I cooked salted fish with chili or sambal tumis ikan masin. Salted fish slightly stinks, but the taste, holy moly, is yummy! So here it is:

Ingredients:
Salted terubok fish (cut into pieces)
3 onions (ground)
4 garlic cloves (ground)
5 small chilies..or more, as you like (chopped)
2 tablespoons of chili paste
1/2 cup of tamarind water
2 tomatoes (diced)
2 big green chilies (chopped)
Pinch of salt and sugar

Directions:
1. Deep-fry the salted fish until crispy.
2. Evacuate the fish and replace the oil with new one (when you fry salted fish, the oil turns dark and you wouldn't want to reuse it).
3. Heat the oil in the pan, then stir-fry ground garlic and onions.
4. Add chili paste and stir-fry until fragrant.
5. Add small chilies, tamarind water (with the pulps) and tomatoes, stir. Lower heat and let it simmer.
6. Adjust the taste with salt and sugar.
7. Toss in salted fish and stir evenly. Add green chilies for garnishing. And it's ready to serve.

Maybe you can try this for dinner tonight. ;)

Bon appétit!

The Gardeners' Daughter

tulip field in Netherlands

Yes I am. Both my parents really love planting and gardening; mostly are flowering plants, but there are also some mango, rose apple, chiku and rambutan trees. This place that I'm living in, you may call it a house in the garden. My parents' interest started with growing bougainvilleas and cactus. Yes, they're beautiful but I complained when we got many pots of bougainvilleas because watering them everyday was tiring and I had to clean the fallen flowers and leaves. Now the gardens have grown from the front to backyard and there are various of plants and flowers. I don't complain anymore, I still water the plants and clean the yards because I take that as my responsibility to help my parents. Besides, I've started to enjoy it as I love the gardens. Honestly, I don't have the knowledge and skills of gardening (I planted tomato and it died), I don't have the passion that my mom has. But I want to learn, because someday I might also want to have my own garden. 

Gardening gives a creative outlet and a personal link to nature. It helps me feel attached to the earth and reminds me that I'm part of nature which tend to change. I'm thankful to have parents that love nature. And I just adore the things that they have in common, apart from love. It's soothing to see the happiness in mom's face when dad bought her new type of plant/flower, new pots, and soil, and then they would do the gardening together. Sometimes they just hang out in the garden, I can't hear the conversation, but watching them is enough to make me smile. Last year in November my dad booked flight tickets for himself and mom to visit nurseries in Selangor as a gift for their anniversary. Holy moly! Imagine how happy mom was. It's one of the sweetest thing about them!

mom at flower nursery

My dad has just retired from work, so he spends most mornings and evenings outside taking care of the plants. So recently he just finished building a hut for the plants and flowers, now we have 4 houses; orchid hut, caladium hut, plumeria hut, and herbaceous plant hut. There are many kinds that I can't name and recognize in every house, which are bought by mom and dad from many nurseries they've went to. While the bougainvilleas are scattered everywhere around our house. Told you, it's the house in the garden. It's a sanctuary, my safe haven.

I'm not sure what's the plan after mom's retirement this year. I heard they want to open a nursery business, but it's not confirmed yet. I don't know if mom could sell the flowers to people, I mean she really loves the flowers. But what I'm sure is that someday when I have enough money, I want to take my parents to any world's greatest flower fields. Like, tulip field in Netherlands, sunflower field in Italy, lavender route in France, ranunculus field in California, or at least the Flower and Garden Festival at Floria Putrajaya. It's my dream. And I hope it may come true someday. :)

caladium hut

herbaceous hut

orchid hut

plumeria hut

Time Won't Wait

It's kind of dichotomous, you know? Celebrating life and mourning death. The excitement of being together with family and friends contrasted with sadness for the circumstances that brought us there. It's been 50 days since my grandmother passed away, but the funeral day's still fresh in my mind. Although we were gathered because of her death, I realized that we're actually all there because of her life.

When's the last time you told your family/friends/lovers that you love them? Death taught me to say it now. And to say it the way you mean it with every ounce of love. It showed me how to be appreciative of someone else's time. To express a grateful heart before the moment escapes me. To stay curious. 

The thing about death is that it makes you think about how you're living, the legacy people have created with all that they leave behind, how you've spent time. And I wonder about how many times I've let an opportunity passed by to tell someone how much they mean to me while they're there, right there. I also think back how many phone calls I didn't make or pick up, the questions I didn't ask and the stories I never heard. And how many chances I've blown that one day I hope to get back. But the thing about time is that you can't go back. Just forward.  

Here's to no longer keeping things off for tomorrow. Because all we really have is today.

Do it now. Say it now. Be it now.

Warrior Blood in my Veins

The 7-day tahlil ceremony for my late grandma (may her soul rest in peace) has came to end last wednesday. It all went well, alhamdulillah. I was glad that Ifo and The Baks came on one of the nights because honestly, I was me again when they're around. It's not that I ain't happy with my family..I don't know how to describe this, but when you and your family are gathering and you know there's a void, deep in your heart wishing someone were there too, then forcing smile or laugh to cover the emptiness, you know. 

Anyway, during the ceremony, there was grandma's uncle that we called him Nek Tamin, 95 years old. He came bringing something valuable for our family; full hierarchy and written story about our ancestors. Surprisingly, after 23 years of living, only now that I've found out who's my great great great grandparents. Nek Tamin's father, which is also grandma's mother's father, was named Awang Besar, who used to be one of the workers that built the train railroads Papar to Tenom. Awang Besar was raised by his adopted family as her mother died when he's a baby and her father went to war, but the real purpose was to hide him from British people. So who were the father and mother of Awang Besar? Believe it or not, they're Datu Paduka Mat Salleh and Dang Bandang. 

Yes, this is not a joke, I'm seriously talking about Mat Salleh, the Sabahan warrior who gained his fame due to his resistance to the British colonials in Sabah. Mat Salleh's my great great great grandfather. I didn't know it until 5 days ago. I'm not sure if late grandma knew it too because she never told us any of it. I think this is another miracle that she left. It's not something to be bragged about, but I was really really surprised. I hated History subject in school, I might even had fallen asleep when the teacher taught us about Mat Salleh, who apparently happens to be one of my ancestors. 

Truth be told, Mat Salleh didn't killed in the battle in 1900. He found shelter somewhere at Indonesia and lived there for 38 years before coming back to Sabah with a new identity, Hj Abdul Salam. That's also when his son, Awang Besar, drew his last breath. This story's told by Nek Tamin who has witnessed everything. I know that according to our History textbook, the story goes different way. Now it's up to you whether to believe the textbook version or the 95-year-old Nek Tamin version. Allah knows best. But it doesn't matter now to me because bygone is bygone. What matters is I know my roots, my ancestors, my family. In a way, knowing that warrior blood runs through my veins is cool. :p

In the Mourning

the last picture of us together

It was 27th November 2013. My grandma came to house that morning. She looked pale and tired, but was still smiling and cheerful. So we talked like usual, she told me about gardening and planting coconut trees at aunt's house (which she couldn't make it). I showed my convocation pictures to her and she's happy for me. She also hoped that she could see my wedding one day. Then I asked her to rest and watch tv for a while as I did laundry, but when I got back she's already went back home. 

Only that evening I realized that it was the last day I saw and talked to my grandma. Around 3pm, she felt uneasy, was hard to breathe..she asked my aunt to help her taking a bath and apologized to everyone for being a burden before she's taken to hospital where she's admitted to ER. I didn't join them (which I regret) because I had to take care of my niece. Then I did the weirdest thing that day; I vacuumed the carpets and changed the curtains. I didn't know why I did that, as if people were coming for an occasion. I mean, I just did. I went to hospital with my dad before 6, but when I got there, everyone's weeping, crying..I knew it's already too late. The doctor said he'd done everything he could. My grandma's blood pressure was too low, her heart was too weak and there's a sudden attack of pneumonia. 

I ran into the ER and saw my grandma in the bed, white and unconscious. My mum, aunts and others were crying around her..but I just can't go nearer because I felt so sick and weak. I thought I was prepared. I wasn't. I got out of the room, ran to empty space until I couldn't feel my feet..sat on the floor and cried so hard. I recalled every moment with grandma..when I was kid, when we celebrated something, few weeks ago, and that morning. I recalled our last moments together. I can't believe things happen in a blink of an eye. She's gone. The person I love, the person I talk to everyday has gone now.

It's been 4 days now. I've been losing sleep, losing interest in everything, losing myself in deep thoughts, my body and mind are out of sync, my tears have dried but my heart's still broken. It's like I'm still stuck in the morning of 27th November. 4 days and it still lingers. I'm trying to keep things together. I told myself all the right things to justify why it was okay.

Deep in my heart, I'm thankful to Allah because grandma slipped away in peace. She's left us miracle and a lot of greatest life lesson. At least for me. She had lived a full life. She's the friendliest person I've ever known. She treated everyone, even strangers, kindly like they're her family and friends. She loved to do sedekah. She's hardworking and never tired of giving useful advice along with interesting stories. She's funny and a bit of superstitious, and that's how we love her. She used to advise us to be aware of death as much as to obey Allah's rules in sickness and health. The way grandma lived her life has changed me: I aim to be as loving to others as she was to people. In this way, her spirit lives on through me. One flap of my grandma's wings creates a wave that will ripple on into the future indefinitely. 

Though she couldn't get to see my wedding, I'll remember her when the time comes. I'll always remember grandma. May Allah rest her soul in eternal peace. Al-Fatihah..

10 Seconds of Fame

I'm officially graduated!! Yay!!! 

*fireworks*

*confetti rain*

Well, it's just an ordinary graduation ceremony. But it's probably the onetime experience, so I wanted to feel the moment. Yes, it's fun, but it's also tiring and exhausting! Plus I only ate a couple of sandwiches that day. I skipped lunch and regretted it. We waited for 2 hours before parading into the hall. The parade was my favorite part..it's glorious, you know..when you walked on red carpet into the hall and everyone's watching and applauding, accompanied with orchestral music. Oh it's wonderful. But the excitement faded a while as we had to wait for another hour before being on stage. When it's time, I could only hear my heartbeats. I went up stage, my name's mentioned, I know I was on the screens, faced the chief minister of Sabah, smiled at cameras, took scroll, said thanks, and went down smiling. That's all. 4 years of study and 10 seconds of fame. Lol! 

Exiting the hall, I ran straight away to find my lovelies. The 1st ones I met were Ifo, Jasper and Selvin. They brought me flowers! Then we went to meet my family and they had flowers for me too. I felt blessed. Being hugged and kissed by mum and dad was the most touching moment, nothing could make me happier than seeing them happy and proud. Despite the fact that I was famished and exhausted, I was glad. Unfortunately I didn't get to meet most friends after leaving the hall, we're all separated by the crowds and couldn't find each other. Everything was so brief. I wish I could see them and say goodbye because it might be difficult to meet again.

The next day was Ifo's turn. I loved it how charming he was in suit and robe. We're finally graduated together. ^^ I got to meet his family and take pictures together. The whole Baks was also there so hey, it's a party! We took as much pictures as we want at the chancellor lawn, went crazy together. Then we took off for lunch, played bowling and decided to stay at Lan's place while waiting for concert night at UMS. So we had karocks and watched Pee Mak that made me almost cry. After that we headed to Tamu Gadang and had dinner there. It's not really a cool place because it's too crowded and smokes were everywhere. And the concert was just okay..there's Azlan & The Typewriter, and a band that tried so hard to be like Paramore..whatever the band was, they performed Still Into You at slow tempo and Conspiracy. I was disappointed as they ruined the songs. 

We kinda made a history that night when a woman approached us and asked to help her finding her 2 little sons that were missing at Tamu Gadang. So we split up and looked for the kids, but we didn't find them..others did. Someone sent them to the stage and made announcement. Phew. Glad the kids were safe. Then we escaped from the place and went to the peaceful sports complex. Looking at the huge field, I recalled the orientation moment dancing on the field during our 1st week in campus 4 years ago. It felt like yesterday. Now we're leaving hogwarts and going forward to the new chapters.

Well, it's an amazing night. It made me realize how blessed I am to be surrounded by wonderful people; my family, friends, Ifo, the Baks, bloggers, etc. Hmm, cliche huh? And being a part of the guys is great, I'm always happy whenever they're around. I may be the wallflower in any other place, but I'm the flower in the group. :)

Blissful Weekend

Last weekend was awesome. Me and family and Ifo went to Kundasang for a holiday trip, we stayed at Little Hut, Mesilau for a night. It's a nice place, with breathtaking view, surrounded by beautiful flowers, windy, cozy cold..such a sanctuary. And there's an onion field in front of the homestay house. 

After checking in to homestay, we went to Poring, it's for the kids. Then we headed to Tagal River to experience a fish massage, which was incredibly great. It's not the normal fish massage that you might get in spa, but this one is huge fish. I was amazed to see a group of big fish swimming around the feet of visitors who stood in the river. At first I was afraid to go down but it'd be waste if I didn't try, so I dipped my feet in the river while feeding the fishes. Oh gosh..I can feel them nibbling my skin. It didn't hurt, just itchy and slippery. Ifo showed us how to feed them right (he went there before); hold the food in your palm, dip your hand in the river and slowly release the food, the fishes would come rushing to your hand. I didn't try that one. :p

That night, we just stayed in homestay and cooked our dinner. Ifo helped us in the kitchen and he even made the grilled banana leaf wrapped fish. My sister said he passed the test. Lol. 

At 3.30 am, we all woke up for qiamullail, it's a practice in Islam to perform tahajjud and hajat prayers at the middle of night, followed by tazkirah and Subuh prayer. It's my dad's idea, which was very good to get much benefits from Allah. Honestly, I'm thankful for being born in the family. Bercuti sambil beramal, they say. 

In the morning, before going to Desa Cattle, we walked around our place and took pictures. Really, it's a very nice place for sightseeing and taking photo, I love how they design the houses with English vintage style. It inspired me to design my own house someday. ^^ So we went to Desa Cattle. We bought milk, met and greeted the calves and goats. The kids had so much fun feeding the tamed young goats. Before heading home, we stopped at Kundasang town to buy some fruits and vegetables. 

It's an awesome vacation. ^^

if only the peak of Mount Kinabalu wasn't covered by the clouds

look at those fishes

i wanna know what does the fox say about us

i can see Mount Kinabalu from my room

;)

brother and the cute house

me and the onion field

my lovelies are feeding the goats

cows might pooped the grass, but we don't care

awesome weekend

Strong as the Wolf Pack

A wolf pack is like the Mafia. Everyone has a position in it. 

An alpha wolf is the leader of the pack. This is the mob boss, the brains of the outfit, the protector, the one who tells the other wolves where to go, when to hunt, what to hunt. The alpha is the decision maker, the capo di tutti capi, who, from 10 feet away, can hear the change of rhythm in a prey animal's heart rate. The alpha's actually far too valuable, as the decision maker, to put himself in harm's way.

Which is why in front of every alpha is a beta wolf, an enforcer. The beta rank is the bold, big thug who's pure aggression. He'll take you down before you get too close to the boss. He's completely expendable. If he gets himself killed, no one will really care, because there's always another brute to take his place.

Then there's the tester wolf, who's very wary and suspicious, who doesn't trust anyone he meets. He's always scouting for change, for something new, and he'll be hiding out at every corner to make sure that, when and if it happens, he's there to alert the alpha. His skittishness is integral to the safety of the pack. And he's the quality-control guy too. If someone in the pack doesn't seem to be pulling his weight, the tester will create a situation where the other wolf has to prove his mettle. Like picking a fight with the enforcer, for example. If that beta can't knock him to the ground, he doesn't deserve to be the beta wolf anymore.

The omega wolf was thought to be a scapegoat and at the bottom of the hierarchy, but he plays a key role in the pack. If 2 animals are fighting, the omega will jump between them and will clown around, until suddenly the 2 angry wolves have taken their emotions down a notch. Everyone gets on his job, and no one gets hurt. The omega holds the critical position of peacemaker. Without him the pack couldn't function; they'd be at a war with each other all the time. 

Say what you will about the Mafia, but it works because everyone has a specific role to play. They all do what they do for the greater good of the organization. They'd willingly die for each other. The other reason a wolf pack is like the Mafia? Because, for both groups, there's nothing more important than family

- I get this from Lone Wolf by Jodi Picoult. It's an amazing story. You can read my review here. 

And I've also learned that there are 3 types of wolf howls: a rallying howl, which is a vocal beacon to bring back a missing member of the pack; a locating howl, which is like a voice message to give the placement of any pack that's in the area; and finally, a defensive howl, which is much deeper, and used to protect your territory. Amazing huh?

Fiction Friday: Heartless

Anger filled my heart as I walked into my favorite cafe. She's sitting at my table. I walked up to her. "You killed him!" I said, slamming my hands down on the round table. I only said it loud enough for her to hear. I didn't want to cause a scene. She didn't know who I was, but I knew her from the pictures I've seen. She acted confused, but she definitely knew who I was talking about. 

"Why would I kill my own father?" she said. Her act of innocence made me want to slap her face, but two could play that game.

"I know you killed him." I said, calmly taking a seat. 

"He died of a heart attack." she said. I sat quietly as I thought about what I wanted to say to her. We sat there for a few minutes, before she spoke again. "Who are you? Why do you care?" she questioned. 

"I'm his daughter." I said, which seemed to set her off. 

"No you're not! I'm his only child," she said as quietly as an infuriated person could. She didn't want to cause a scene either. 

"No," I said calmly, "You’re the reason he's dead."

I was more of a daughter to him than she ever was. He had never wanted to talk about her. When I had gone to his house for the first time, I noticed that his house did not reflect his character. I knew he was a family man because of the way I met him. Yet, there were no pictures of his family, not even any of his wife. Why don’t you have any pictures of your family? I asked. He smiled at me, with a tinge of sadness in his eyes, saying I took them down. Angela, my daughter, hardly visits me anymore. I think it was because the pictures make her sad. He brought out a couple of pictures of his wife and daughter, but he quickly put them away, and the subject was never brought up again. 

"Please," she said, bringing me back to the present, "explain to me as to why I would kill my own father. Only a sick person would kill their father. I am not that kind of person."

I laughed at her. "You're right," I said, "you didn't kill your father." She sat back in her chair, folding her arms, and smiling smugly. "You killed my father." I continued. 

If she was boiling before, she was about to blow now. She stood up and raised her hand at me, ready to slap me. I quickly put out my hands in defense. The action caused a few people to look at us. Her face fell as she asked me, "where did you get that bracelet?" We slowly sat down, again. The onlookers quickly went back to their own business. I knew we were finally getting somewhere. However, I did not know where I wanted this to go. 

"He gave it to me for my birthday last year," I answered. 

"How do you know my father?" She asked. 

"I met him at the graveyard two years ago," I explained. I had gone to the cemetery once every week to visit my parents after they died in a car accident. This man was there at the same time I was, every Sunday. I had seen him there a few times before I ever made any move to acknowledge him. We slowly went from smiling to each other, to saying hello, to finally talking. As time went by, we got a good relationship going. 

His name's John Ng. Mr Ng went to the cemetery every week to visit his wife. She passed away because she had heart attack. Mr Ng and I found comfort in each other. He was like a father to me. He always told me that I was the daughter he had lost. I did not know what he meant by that, except that his daughter hardly visited him, but I knew that I was going to be the daughter he deserved. 

She was quiet again, after I explained my story to her. I was getting tired of her silence, so I said, "why do you care about my bracelet anyway?"

She stared at my bracelet as she whispered, "it was my mine." She quickly changed the subject after that, which was something Angela and her father had in common. They didn't like to talk about things that saddened them. "It doesn't matter anyway," she said, "you still haven't given me a clear explanation as to why you think I killed my father. If you truly knew him like you say you did, you'd know that he wasn't murdered. He had a heart attack."

I sat back thinking about what I was going to say to her. "I visited him every day," I said. 

"I was busy," she replied, "is that a crime?"

"You never tried to contact him in any way," I told her. 

She sighed, then. "I knew that he had heart problems, just like my mother."

"So," I said coldly, "you should have been there for him." 

She looked away, sighing again. "When my mother died, I blamed it on myself."

"So?" I said, again. If she wanted me to feel sorry for her, it wasn't going to happen. 

"I didn't want to feel that guilt again, so I decided to distance myself from my father," she whispered. 

I grabbed her cup of coffee and dumped it on her. Everyone in the cafe looked at us as a loud, piercing screech came from Angela. "What is wrong with you?" She screamed, standing up. 

"You pulled away from your father because you did not want to feel the guilt you felt when your mother died?" I said. It suddenly hit me that, despite my attempts to not make a scene, we ended up in that exact predicament anyways. I suppose you can’t just accuse someone of killing their father and expect everyone to go about their business. I headed for the door, feeling the burning stares of everyone in the room. 

"Wait!" she yelled at me. She ran after me, grabbing my wrist. 

"What do you want?" I said turning around. 

"Why do you think I killed my father?" She said. Everyone listened closely, wanting to know the exact same thing. 

She was blind. After all of this, she still didn't know why I accused her of killing Mr Ng. "Don't you see," I said, "You tried so hard not to feel the guilt you felt when your mother died, yet guilt is all you should be feeling. You abandoned your father when he needed you the most. You basically left him there to die alone. You may not have stabbed your father in his heart, but you might as well have." Everyone became uninterested at this point, realizing that Angela was not a real murderer. Angela, though, was shocked as the revelation hit her. I removed my hand from her grip and walked away.

Lessons of a Lifetime

1. Never cancel lunch/dinner plans by text message.

2. If a street performer makes you stop walking, you owe him a buck.

3. Always use ‘we’ when referring to your home team or your government.

4. When entrusted with a secret, keep it.

5. Just because you can doesn't mean you should.

6. Don’t dumb it down.

7. You only get one chance to notice a new haircut.

8. Expect the seat in front of you to recline. Prepare accordingly.

9. Hold your heroes to a high standard.

10. Never lie to your doctor.

11. All guns are loaded.

12. The best way to show thanks is to wear it. Even if it’s only once.

13. Take a vacation of your cell phone, internet, and TV once a year.

14. A handshake beats an autograph.

15. Don’t linger in the doorway. In or out.

16. If you choose to go in drag, don’t sell yourself short.

17. If you want to know what makes you unique, sit for a caricature.

18. Be mindful of what comes between you and the Earth. Always buy good shoes, tires, and sheets.

19. When you’re with new friends, don’t just talk about old friends.

20. When traveling, keep your wits about you.

21. It’s never too late for an apology.

22. If you have the right of way, take it.

23. You don’t get to choose your own nickname.

24. When you marry someone, remember you marry their entire family.

25. Never push someone off a dock.

26. Under no circumstances should you ask a woman if she’s pregnant.

27. It’s not enough to be proud of your ancestry; live up to it.

28. Don’t make a scene.

29. When giving a thank you speech, short and sweet is best.

30. Know when to ignore the camera.

31. Never gloat.

32. Invest in good luggage.

33. Make time for your mom on your birthday. It’s her special day, too.

34. When opening presents, no one likes a good guesser.

35. Sympathy is a crutch, never fake a limp.

36. Give credit. Take blame.

37. Suck it up every now and again.

38. Don’t stare.

39. Stand up to bullies. You’ll only have to do it once.

40. If you've made your point, stop talking.

41. Admit it when you’re wrong.

42. If you offer to help don’t quit until the job is done.

43. Look people in the eye when you thank them.

44. Thank the bus driver.

45. Never answer the phone at the dinner table.

46. Forgive yourself for your mistakes.

47. Know at least one good joke.

48. Don’t boo. Even the ref is somebody’s son.

49. Know how to cook one good meal.

50. Be cool to younger kids. Reputations are built over a lifetime.

51. It’s okay to go to the movies by yourself.

52. Don’t lose your cool. Especially at work.

53. Always thank the host.

54. If you don’t understand, ask before it’s too late.

55. Know the size of your boy/girlfriend’s clothes.

56. There is nothing wrong with a plain T-shirt.

57. Be a good listener. Don’t just wait for your turn to talk.

58. Keep your word.

59. In college, always sit in the front. You’ll stand out immediately.

60. Carry your mother’s bags. She carried you for 9 months.

61. Be patient with airport security. They’re just doing their jobs.

62. Don’t be the talker in a movie.

63. You are what you do, not what you say.

64. Be kind. Everyone has a hard fight ahead of them.

65. An hour with grandparents is time well spent. Ask for advice when you need it.

66. Don’t litter.

67. If you have a sister, get to know her boyfriend. Your opinion is important.

68. You won’t always be the strongest or the fastest. But you can be the toughest.

69. Never call someone before 9 am or after 9 pm.

70. Make the little things count.

71. There is a fine line between looking sultry and slutty. Find it.

72. You’re never too old to need your mom.

73. Ladies, if you make the decision to wear heels on the first date, commit to keeping them on and keeping your trap shut about how much your feet kill.

74. Know the words to your national anthem.

75. Smile at strangers.

76. Make goals.

77. Being old is not dictated by your bedtime.

78. If you have to fight, punch first and punch hard.

79. Guys, respect women. 

80. Family always comes first.