The Middle Ground

There are 84 blog posts sitting in my drafts folder. There's one about a difficult day 4 years ago, another about having, for the 1st time ever, just one New Year's resolution instead of a laundry list. There's a post about a strange, sunny day on the bay, a post about an adventure with my friends, a post about something Ifo said that stopped me in my tracks, surprising me in a way, a good way, that words haven't surprised me in years.

Sometimes this happens. I have so many things to say that I don't know where to start, and I end up saying nothing at all. Do you ever have that dream? The one where you're trying to talk to someone, and although you hear the words in your mind, muffled, as if you're underwater, you can't speak?

Hard to imagine that? Forget it then. So this is a few pieces of the drafts I've been saving for a long time. 

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It's been a good month. A really, really good month. The kind that's so good, you have to force yourself not to grow suspicious that something difficult must be around the corner. That feeling has been nagging at me, though, and there's nothing worse than that train of thought, the when-will-the-other-shoe-drop kind. It comes from a place of such fear and guilt, as if you have to pay for your happiness, as if joy will always be followed with some kind of inevitable sadness.

That's a defense mechanism, of course. When things feel like they're moving in the right direction, you can't help but brace yourself for whatever challenge will come up first.

**********

I hear my dad's voice in my head a lot. On a revision night after getting bad grades in mathematics and he bought me a lot of practice books to improve my maths, he'd say, "Do it correctly!" He sometimes sounds like yelling, the kind that intimidated coach but motivated me, pushed me to work harder and work smarter. He's the best teacher.

I hear my mom's voice in my head, too, a much softer one. With 6 kids, she's the kind of mom who always carries not just a first-aid kit for medical emergencies, but a first-aid kit for, well, life. From her purse, I've seen my mother pull out everything from Vicks to biscuits, just in case. She's a big just-in-case type, and before I ever did anything (go to school, take a test, leave for a night out), she'd repeat, "Be prepared."

Do it correctly. 

Be prepared.

 So much of parenting boils down to readying your kids for what's next, and helping them learn how to ready themselves. My parents instilled in me a borderline-ridiculous affinity for planning, and it's one of the passed-down habits I'm most grateful I adopted. There's something to be said for training yourself to anticipate what's coming, and to be prepared for your next move. 

But here's where I've sometimes mixed up their message: You're not always anticipating a blow, sometimes you're preparing for something great. You can't know that, of course, but you can learn to understand that good can follow good. There are ups and then there are downs, but sometimes there are ups, and then more ups, and then the down isn't so far to fall, after all.

**********

The words come quickly when things are really hard, and when things are really good. Maybe it's because the emotions feel more extreme, the thoughts more defined. It's the middle ground that's tough to sort through, I think. Even easy joy can be hard to navigate sometimes.

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. 

Little Treasures

When I was young, I collected tiny, shiny things. Inside a small music box, I kept a random array of little treasures: a black sequin that fell from my mom's dress, a stray color-light that wedged itself into the carpet, a silver button that probably belonged to someone's sweater. There were earring and broken thumbtacks and colorful strands of thread. I remember putting in a birthday candle and a pink eraser, and a small piece of plastic I grabbed only because it was gold. I sought out small tokens of joy, little slices of light and color. It's not that I did anything with them, really. Every once in a while, I'd open the lid to survey my stock, pulling each tiny, forgotten thing from the box and arranging them on the windowsill in my bedroom just so. Then I'd put all the gleaming, vibrant gems of garbage back into my music-turned-treasure box. (Maybe I kept small pictures of Justin Timberlake in there, too, but that's not the point)

The point's that I actively, purposefully searched for beautiful, charming things to pocket. When I was young, I looked for little slivers of joy to call my own, and I still do. In a different way, I still do, because more and more I've come to understand my own responsibility in finding joy. I understand happiness as a choice, and how happiness comes from making choices.

Recently, I was having a not-good day. A day of spilled coffee, sad news, and some truly unfortunate timing. I could tell early on that something within me wanted to wallow in the gloom, and as I got home, I had every intention of crawling under the covers and turning up my melancholy, rainy-day playlist.

A stripe of sunlight stopped me, though. It's shimmering across my bed, the room all aglow, and I thought, a cup of tea, Aemy. I brewed a cup of English breakfast tea, I opened up one of my favorite books by one of my favorite authors, and I went straight to my favorite chapter, rereading my favorite lines. When I was finished, I picked up the phone and called someone, and I told him what I was doing, why I was calling, what I know to be true: happiness is a practice. A collection of tiny, shiny things in our everyday that make it feel just a little bit like magic, like something we should treasure.

Moving On Without Letting Go

My contract as a substitute teacher has come to an end. It was a bittersweet farewell.

Letting go of people and places I love has never been easy for me. In fact, it's always been one of my biggest challenges. I've just never understood how you're supposed to be able to say goodbye to someplace or someone you love or have loved with every piece of yourself. I know, of course, that it isn't possible to hold on to everything you've ever cared about, but that's never quite stopped me from trying. 

It's just that I tend to think of my life in chapters and it isn't as if you keep reading and just forget what happened on the previous page. No. You hold on to every important character and setting from the beginning of the story because you just know that in some later chapter there'll be some epiphany and you'll better understand their significance. You never forget about those first people or moments because they're the undercurrent of everything to come. 

So maybe it's not really about "letting go" at all. Maybe it's about acknowledging who, what and where you've loved and appreciating that they've led you to the page you're on now. Maybe it's not about forgetting, but about letting those people and places nestle themselves in some corner of your heart so that down the line, when you encounter that climactic scene that gives meaning to the entire story, you can smile to yourself as you realize that it's them who brought you here, to this place, to this person you've become. 

The school..it's the same school I went in 2003 until 2007. As someone who gets, well, more than a little nostalgic for the places I love, I've kept my distance from it since college. That school's at the center of so many of my most special memories, and I thought it'd be best to rip off the band-aid and never look back. A quick, clean goodbye. Turns out, that wasn't the case. I returned as a teacher and I got attached again. 

How refreshing, and what a relief, not to ache for what you used to have and where you used to be. It's taken me a long, long time to learn that you don't have to miss something to make it mean something. A place or a person can be important to you without pining for it, and moving on, it doesn't have to be dismissive. There are different shades of letting go. 

I miss my students and fellow teachers. Thanks for the memories. See you again next time!

Perfect, Sweet-Filled Birthday

3rd October 2014 was my 24th birthday. And, inevitably, I find myself considering where I am, where I've been..whether I'm who I expected to be at this age, whether I'm doing what I expected to do. Truth is: I am and I'm not. Some things have fallen right into place, right where I always imagined they would. Other things, though, have been surprises. Good and bad ones. But all of it, I'm very happy to say, feels right. As if it's inevitable. Certain, in the most wonderful of ways. And if I have one wish for 24, it'll be holding on to that. The feeling that everything, even the unexpected, is just as it should be.

When asked how I wanted to spend my birthday, I said I just wanted to spend it with the ones I love. Just like in the past. I didn't expect any cakes, gifts or celebration. But actually that's what I really got.....

After having a movie night (Anabelle..stupid creepy doll) and sleepover (it's been soooooo long since high school) with my girls (Farah and Jana) at Farah's place, Ifo took me out for a date on my birthday. It's a simple, lovely date; just me and him, watching Dracula Untold (awesome movie!), eating pizza, talking and talking and laughing. And hey, I got new books! If I stay and Where She Went, both by Gayle Forman. 

Two days after my birthday, we went out again, with other friends this time. It was raining heavily outside and I thought that something hot or soupy would be nice, so I suggested to eat at Natural Kitchen. But Ifo insisted to go to Secret Recipe, so we did. When we got there, Selvin and Russel were already waiting at the table. They hadn't ordered anything but plain water. Then Ifo excused himself to call Jasper outside, so we waited for them while browsing the menus. 

Few minutes later, Ifo and the rest appeared at the stairs; Ifo (playing ukulele), Desmond (holding a cake), Jasper, Mark and Carol. They're all singing out loud a Happy Birthday song, clapping..and I was....oh my God, I was so speechless, so surprised..I didn't know what to say. I just laughed and felt touched and ashamed at the same time. Touched, because I didn't expect any of those and it's been so long since I had that kind of surprise celebration..embarrassed, because everybody in the restaurant was looking at me and clapping along. Suddenly I became the centre of attention. Lol. It was all Ifo's idea..he'd been planning everything for almost a week, he brought The Baks and Wonder Women (girls group consisting me, Carol, Nelly, Fytt and Etha, but only Carol available that day) together as a team to celebrate my birthday. How nice! They even made a secret group chat to discuss the whole things. 

It was so sweet and wonderful. Thank you, everyone..thank you so much for surprising me good, I owe you guys a big time. I'm so grateful to have you guys in my life. And darling Ifo, I can't thank you enough..I love you. :)

post-sleepover

I'm a happy birthday girl

the cake was awesome

my sweethearts

I love you ^^

Hopeless Nostlagic

Nostalgia is my favorite pastime. I was born in 1990, which I'm glad of. I've always loved the era of 90's. I miss it. I get nostalgic about my childhood, about old family vacations, but most of all about an era I didn't belong to. I am in love with the 80's and 70's as well. To me it was the perfect time for literature, fashion and art. Don't you just love old movies like The Breakfast Club, Grease, Ghost, Pretty Woman, Ghostbusters, etc..?

So for me, even if I was born in 70's then I would have wished for an earlier time too. It's a never-ending cycle for those with a nostalgic heart, I guess. I also understood that for me it's more about the longing, the desire for something I can't have than the actual time. Would I really want to live in a time before all the modern day luxuries we're lucky to have? Before Twitter, smartphones, Instagram, and even temperature setting kettles? Would you? Sure the idea's romantic and beautiful but I do love the day and age we live in now. We're able to connect with people from anywhere in the world and we can even learn how to make pizza on YouTube. Women are closer to equality than ever before and we have the choice to do anything our heart desires.

I love memories almost as much as I love making them. There's just something so satisfying and so enlightening about rehashing, remembering, or rewriting a shared story. Sometimes all you can do is hold on to little bits of sanity here and there. Sometimes when you find yourself wading through a gray area, the best thing you can manage is to find clarity in any small way you can. Like, in the simple satisfaction of vacuuming, or in the fresh scent of clean laundry, or in the sweeping sense of black-and-white that comes from digging out old stuff. So I was digging out some old stuff and these are some of the things that I've found:

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Cassettes.
My sisters were huge fans of love songs and boy bands, so they had a lot of cassettes, posters and lyrics. When they got busy pursuing studies and getting jobs, I took everything and I started to listen all the boy bands and totally fell in love with KRU, 911, 'N Sync, Bakcstreet Boys, A1, Five, and others. I was also a big fan of Britney Spears. My sister gave me Britney Spears' posters and recorded music videos in a CD on my birthday. I watched the videos everyday, sang and danced alone. Lol. We used to have many cassettes but I don't know where's the rest.

A horror movie tape.
Sundel Bolong Suzanna is Indonesian vampire film (1981) and was the scariest movie when I was a kid. I don't quite remember the story but maybe if I'm gonna watch it now, I'd think the vampire's lame. As if we still had the VCR player. Lol. We had many tapes back then, most of them were the recorded series of Dragon Ball. I remember watching Dragon Ball every Saturday/Sunday in the morning with my brother, we sat really close to the television while eating cereals. 

Old watches.
These are the watches from 80's and 90's belonged to my mom and sister, worn out and not ticking anymore, of course. Well, I collected things so I kept them in a box..then I forgot that I had them. Now I've got them back and I'm thinking of repairing them, if repairable. They're still pretty, right? Vintage. And they're Rolex. ;)

Best Days of Our Lives Haven’t Happened Yet

Someday I will host dinner parties and you will always be invited. We'll eat lovely food and perhaps the first time I'll try and have a hand at cooking a real big meal. If it doesn't work so well, the next time I'll just have something ordered-in. But nevertheless, food will be plenty and drinks will be flowing. 

We'll come together and every single time the conversation will start with something along the lines of, "where does the time go? It seems just like yesterday..." and for a moment we'll all sigh and smile at that truth, and the fact it'll be mentioned, just the same, at our next dinner party. We'll then talk of our lives. We'll share in roars of laughter and bicker about politics and how some of us still listen to Taylor Swift..but only because our quirks and differences are what we truly love about one another. We'll reminisce about all the memories we share and chuckle at our past selves.

"How could we have been so silly?" we'll say.

"We worried about so many unnecessary things!" we'll all agree.

We'll laugh until we cry and cry until we laugh. We'll find ourselves chatting on and on about how our loves drive us bonkers but we all will smile at one another, knowing that none of us would trade them for anything. We will then joke and point out our most embarrassing moments and then we'll sigh and say in unison, "how did we get through all of that?" And we'll not say it aloud, but in our hearts we will think, "it was crazy, exhausting and one of the most confusing times of our lives but we wouldn't change it for the world."

"Not one bit," we will silently repeat.

Someday.

Music and Memory

I've always been a music person. I mean, I'm not a musician but I really love music. Everyone's a music person, of course, but there have been phases of my life when music seemed to take center stage, when I listened to it so often that silence felt rare and sort of strange. When I listened to it so often that I found myself thinking in verse, bridge, chorus. Sometimes I feel that every moment deserves its own song, its own lyrics, and still those memories are backed by their own soundtrack in my mind.

Estrella - "Stay"

The night he texted me for the first time and I went all giddy.

Keane - "Somewhere Only We Know"

It was midnight, the windows were down and the air was warm. I wore his sweater that smelled like popcorn and couldn't understand why some things ever needed to change.

Stairway To Heaven OST - "Na Man Eh Nuh"

I sat on a bench looking at the sea, missing old friends. Feeling hopeful. It's the first instrumental song I ever really loved, the one that taught me that words can't say everything. Not even close. 

Britney Spears - "Sometimes"

Best friends, unhealthy snacks, girl-talk, and nothing else mattered.

Snow Patrol - "Chasing Cars"

I nervously drove his car and decided everything would be all right.

Plain White T's - "Rhythm of Love"

Manila, picnics, movies and simple hangouts..the time in my life when I felt most fearless, most daring. I laughed and wrote about it and laughed more and learned what it meant to both love and endure.

Paramore - "The Only Exception"

From a time when I was both heartbroken and in love, both afraid and elated beyond words.

Paramore - "Still Into You"

I was cooking for dinner with friends and he stood there in the kitchen and smiled, saying nothing and everything I needed to hear.

Linking experience and emotion to music, it's nothing new, I know. It's common, as natural as anything, but don't you think it's one of the most beautiful habits we have? I find myself collecting songs, in case they'll someday suit a fleeting moment. Silly, maybe. Or maybe not. Do you have a favorite song memory? What is it? ^^

A Spoonful of Sentiment

It's tough for a non-movie review blog to write a movie review. But I love movies and I'll take any good excuse I can to actually get out of the house and get immersed in a film. And Saving Mr Banks saved me. 

Here's a quick synopsis for those who haven't heard of the film: 

Walt Disney spent years pursuing the rights to create a movie based on the book, Mary Poppins by P. L. Travers. He's persistent in wanting to make the movie not only because he loved the story but because he wanted to fulfill a promise he made to his daughters. Mrs. Travers reluctantly agreed to work with Disney's team on the film but refused to sign away the rights during pre-production. Long story short, she eventually signed away the rights and the film's made. 

But you knew that. Because most of us grew up with Mary Poppins as part of our childhood. We know the film, we know the songs, and we all loved Mary Poppins. Saving Mr. Banks doesn’t just take you behind the scenes as to how Walt Disney and P. L. Travers eventually struck a chord. This movie takes you into the childhood of Mrs. Travers and deep into her head where we really understand why this fictional character, Mary Poppins, is such an important and protected part of her life.

Let me state what I think is obvious. If you haven't ever seen Mary Poppins, you've got some homework to do. You need to watch it and then go see it. If you don't, you'll miss a lot of the subtle humor and inside jokes. And you'll be able to follow the story line but you won't really get it. If you've seen Mary Poppins and didn't love it, this movie might not be for you. And finally, if you've seen Mary Poppins but it's been so many years that you can't really remember if you liked it or not, go see this movie. You've probably forgotten that you loved it as a kid and this film will remind you. (Side note: This is NOT a movie to take your kids to. They'll simply be bored. It's an adult movie. Enjoy a night out.)

Well, I really loved it. It's because it was a movie that stayed with me. When I see a good movie, it usually has to sit with me for a day before I can really coherently come up with what I thought of it. That's a good sign because it means it got the wheels turning in my head. The next day, I was singing the songs from the film and just replaying some of the scenes in my mind and mostly just marveling over the amazing cast. Emma Thompson as P. L. Travers, a middle-aged Australian born English writer of children's books. She wasn't pleasant and yet we're sympathetic and amused. And I love love Emma for facing the big screen with that awful 1960s hair. Oh she deserves Oscars. Tom Hanks as Walt Disney, the American icon who has never been portrayed on screen before. So Tom Hanks as Walt Disney? OF COURSE!

The biggest thrill for me in this film was feeling like I got a glimpse into the life of Walt Disney; who he was, what he was like to work with, and how he fought for what he believed in. In a beautiful but entirely fictional scene, Disney tells Travers about his own difficult childhood:

I love my life - it's a miracle.  And I loved my daddy, boy, I loved him. But, there isn't a day goes by where I don't think of that little boy in the snow and old Elias with his fist and strap, and I'm just so tired - I'm tired of remembering it that way. Aren't you tired Mrs. Travers? We all have our tales but don't you want to find a way to finish the story? Let it all go and have a life that isn't dictated by a past?

Although Travers has created a magical world of imagination, it represents gritty reality to her. Mary Poppins shows the children hard truths, and fiction that reveals painful truths is important. But Disney sees another role for fiction, that we can use fiction to write the endings that we wish our stories had, and thus heal our griefs. I like Disney's idea.

There are many reasons why people love romance as a genre, and there are many reasons why I love it. One of my favorite things about romance is the promise that things will be okay. In real life, even though my life's one of great happiness, I worry all the time, about everything from asteroids (collisions!) to turtles (endangered!). Above all I worry about people who are suffering who I can't save, and I grieve for people who I've lost. So you can imagine my tearful response when, at the premiere of Mary Poppins, when Travers weeps because Mr. Banks has been fired, Disney leans over to her and whispers, "It's all right, Mrs. Travers. It's alright. Mr. Banks is going to be all right. I promise."

First of all, in terms of the movie itself, it's a powerful moment, because P.L. Travers' father, the model for Mr. Banks, wasn't alright. Not even her own Mary Poppins, a seemingly invincible aunt, could save him. And although in real life Travers was never happy with the film, this scene in Saving Mr. Banks is cathartic for the character and for the audience. From the standpoint of someone like me who likes romance, this moment was touching and affirming. We all know that things in life can be hard. Even happy endings have tough parts. But when you pick up a romance book, it says, "It's alright, I promise."  And that's not trite or delusional. It's powerful and healing and freeing. It's a way of nurturing hope and it gives us something good to imagine and to aspire to.

We need stories that reveal the hardships we've faced historically and that we continue to face today. We need to be able to clearly see our past and our present. But we also need hope and optimism. If all stories end in doom, then we start to feel doomed. What I hadn't thought of before Saving Mr. Banks is that in writing happy endings we can also rewrite our own stories. What Disney's saying to Travers is that we can use fiction not only to reveal our reality but to shape it. There are a lot of things going on in this movie but for me, that aspect's the most interesting, and that aspect's why I think some of you would enjoy the film so much. That, and the fact that Emma Thompson plays the smartest, and bitchiest, smart bitch of all time! Oh please just give her that Oscars!

For the record, there are some interesting controversies surrounding the film. See, in the movie, Emma Thompson weeps with joy because she loves the film version of Mary Poppins so very much and the magic of Disney has healed her emotional wounds. But actually, in real life, P.L. Travers wept at the premier because she hated it. She liked the money, and she got a heap of it, but she still hated the movie. Lol.

Light as Air

Recently, life has been a bit of a whirlwind. A good whirlwind, to be sure, but a whirlwind nonetheless. Last weekend left me calm and rejuvenated. Refreshed. Outdoor brunch, an all-day barbecue at the river, hangout at playground, and friends who bring out my truest self. We faced the sun and ate barbecued chickens and ate pickles and welcomed life with open arms. And something within or above or around me lifted, loosened, so that now I'm feeling light as air.

It's the new weekend and life is good, you know? Life is just so damn good.

our picnic spot

Kibambangan River

dipping in cold river

glad to have him 

brothers

the chefs

Well, I know it's the month of love. But I'm not a valentine's day person because I'm not celebrating it, but everyone can celebrate love anytime. Let's celebrate all kinds of love everyday, shall we? Romantic love, yes, but also friendship and the love of our families, our acquaintances, our old loves and new loves, puppy loves and forever loves. The love of words, of sunshine, of fresh flowers sitting on the windowsill. And let's not forget to show love, too, to those we care about and also to ourselves. Also, let us not forget self-love.

And thank you so much for all the love you've shown this little blog over the years.

Have a blast weekend. ^^

In Your Heart or On Its Way

Nizam & Nana :)

Last Friday my best friend, Nizam, got married to the woman he loves after 5 years of relationship. I couldn't attend the ceremony because something came up at that time, but I met Nizam to have some words, say congrats and all the best wishes. It's the least I can do. Besides, it's been a really long time we didn't meet. 

We used to be neighbors and went to same school, have been like brother and sister ever since. Actually there were 3 of us; goofed around, fought, shared problems, helped each other in studies, sang our favorite songs, spent holidays together..just like siblings. But then one of us died in 2006. Nizam drifted away and I stayed with my other friends. We lost a brother and thought we've lost everything. But friendships remain forever and we're just trying to grasp reality because the grief was too consuming. We got each other, we've moved on. The memories and friendship we have are the only reasons we keep in touch now. 

And I couldn't be happier when Nizam finally got married. I'm sure it was a beautiful, blessed wedding. :)

He waited 5 years to marry his girl, juggled with studies and different jobs, and his hard work has paid off. He got a fix job now and he grabs the chance to propose. I'm really proud of him. 

I love weddings. Absolutely love them. Whether it's a dear friend's wedding or someone I've never even met, my heart swells watching two people celebrate their never-ending love for one another. And when my best friends marry the love of their lives, holy moly..my heart would nearly jump right out of my chest with happiness.

How on earth will I keep my heart from exploding with love the day I marry the love of my life? Do they have vitamins to prevent that? Lol.

Well, congratulations again to Nizam and Nana. May they live happily ever after. :)

..and life gets more exciting with each passing day, and love is either in your heart or on its way.

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.

Dust on His Path

"There has certainly been for you in the Messenger of Allah an excellent pattern for anyone whose hope is in Allah and the Last Day and [who] remembers Allah often."
– Surah Al-Ahzab (33:21)

The salvation of humanity and every individual lies in following the blessed sunnah of the Prophet Muhammad (saw), who has been sent by Allah (swt) as a role model for us until qiamat. But some people think that sunnah is only restricted to prayers, fasting and several others. Instead, there are sunnah for all the activities we do everyday. In Islam, the Arabic word 'sunnah' has come to denote the way Rasulullah (saw), the Messenger of Allah, lived his life. And following the sunnah of Rasulullah (saw) in all aspects of life will bring blessings of Allah to us. 

Here's a few sunnah of Rasulullah (saw):

1. Sunnah of eating

• recite bismillah and du'a before eating
• start with fruits if any
• use right hand, 3 fingers if possible
• don't drink while eating
• eat before hungry, stop before full 

2. Sunnah of sleeping

• clean and take wudhu before going to bed
• recite ayat al-Kursi before sleeping
• sleep on right hand side with right palm under right cheek
• keep knees slightly bent

3. Sunnah on anger management

• when you're angry while standing, sit
• when you're angry while siting, lie down
• when you're angry while lying down, take wudhu 
• never let anger control you, control the anger

4. Sunnah on favorite sports

• archery, riding horse and swimming

5. Sunnah on favorite food

• barley, dates, figs, olives, grapes, honey, watermelon, milk, mushroom, pomegranate, and plain water 

There are more and you can find them in many sources. Happy Maulidur Rasul. :)

I am the servant of the Qur'an as long as I have life. I am the dust on the path of Muhammad, the Chosen One. - Rumi

We are Stories still Going

There are parts of stories that we wish were different, things we wish we could change, erase, forget. We get stuck in moments. Memories turn to ghosts. We try to live in the past, but it never works. And then somehow, inside the same story, there's good. There are memories that make us laugh and make us smile, relationships and conversations, dreams of jobs and families, and places that we hope to go. Even things as simple as favorite books and songs and films, the way they remind us we're alive, these things are part of our story as well. And we've come to believe that all of it matters, that all of it is significant and the opposite of small. We've come to believe that you deserve to be around people who know these parts of you, people who laugh and mourn and celebrate with you, people who remind you that you're not alone.

If you should ever get to a place where your life feels like it's not worth living, where the pain's just too great, know that it's okay to be honest and ask for help. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and it doesn't mean you're something strange or some kind of burden. It simply means you're human. May you wake to the day when life feels worth living, when joy comes back, hope shows up, love returns. 

If you're reading this, if there's air in your lungs on this day, then there's still hope for you. Your story's still going. And maybe some things are true for all of us. Perhaps we all relate to pain. Perhaps we all relate to fear and loss and questions. And perhaps we all deserve to be honest, we all deserve whatever help we need. Our stories are all so many things. Heavy and light. Beautiful and difficult. Hopeful and uncertain. But our stories aren't finished yet. There's still time, for things to heal, change and grow. There's still time to be surprised. We're stories still going, you and I.

Peace to you today, tomorrow and days ahead. 

Jingle Bell Rock

So how did we celebrate our 5th anniversary? Dinner at a romantic restaurant, stroll on the beach, movies.....nahh, those are typical. We did what we love to, we're just hanging out in bookshop (I just got myself John Green's Paper Towns ^^), having lunch at mamak stall and talking for hours. All those happened in the place where we had our 1st date and declared to be a couple. :p

Well it's not one-day celebration, and sometimes an anniversary isn't necessarily meant to be celebrated by 2 people. Being together for 5 years have brought us to get closer with everyone else, especially our friends, because most of our sweet moments were involving them and we wanted to share this happiness. So we cooked some simple meals, baked a cake and had dinner together at Ifo's house. Then we had karaoke til midnight while eating the cake we baked. It's really a fun night. Not to brag, but as I love cooking, I was glad to cook my recipe for my loved ones and they liked it. As the saying goes "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach", well honestly I kinda put that into practice to impress my man. Heeee... :D

On 25th, we went to Tuaran to meet Ifo's Dusun relatives as they had a little feast for Ifo's grandparents to celebrate christmas. And at night, we're invited to a christmas party at Ifo's cousins' house, and one of the cousin is Nelly's (my best friend) husband-to-be. ^^ What a small world, everyone can be related. It was a great party with beautiful decoration. Ifo and friends grabbed chance to join a game called Running Man. I never watch the show so I had no idea about it, but it's just apparently an eating competition. Each group consists of 6 persons, and every member must finish boiled egg, hot curry Maggie, ice cream, chocolate bar, a bottle of mineral water and coke as fast as possible. The foods were simple and finishing them seemed easy, the real challenge was the psycho cheers from the crowds as they shouted, "muntah..muntah..muntah!" One of our friends almost puked eating the egg, me who's watching also felt like throwing up. Their psycho really worked. Anyway, Ifo's group won 2nd place and we went home with 2 hampers and lots of treats. 

Such a nice way to end the year. ^^

cooked for the loved ones

me and Ifo with 2 beautiful christmas cakes

with my friend a.k.a biras-to-be, Nelly

enjoying meals with the hosts of the party

congrats guys!

5 Years and Counting

Forever can never be long enough for me, to feel like I've had long enough with you..
- Train, Marry Me

The thing about love is that you find a way. It's funny the way things look different when you're in love, the moments are clearer and crisp, but it's the absence of love that makes you notice. I know 6 things about love: 1) it'll make you a better person, 2) it's simple, 3) the more you give, the more you have, 4) it's constant, 5) it can be everything you've hoped for, and 6) it must start with yourself.

I don't know if the world provides us with soulmates, but what I do know is that there's someone I'd pick every time. :)

This man right here, I owe him the world. He has shown me how great it can be to love someone, and how important it is to love and accept myself. He has taught me how to be comfortable in my skin and how to let go of my anger. He has proven to me that there's someone who will love the darkest, scariest parts of you. I've spent 5 years getting to know this beautiful soul as well as to know myself. Within those years we've had some barriers between us, some rough patches, but we're still into each other. I'm so lucky and so blessed to have been given such an amazing and loving man. I thank God every day for sending me such a perfect addition to my life. With him, my weird feels normal and that's all I can ever ask for. 

And today marks our 5th anniversary. Happy anniversary, dearest Ifo. I love you, always have and always will. :)

Marry your best friend. I do not say that lightly. Really, truly find the strongest, happiest friendship in the person you fall in love with. Someone who speaks highly of you. Someone you can laugh with. The kind of laughs that make your belly ache, and your nose snort. The embarrassing, earnest, healing kind of laughs. Wit is important. Life is too short not to love someone who lets you be a fool with them. Make sure they are somebody who lets you cry, too. Despair will come. Find someone that you want to be there with you through those times. Most importantly, marry the one that makes passion, love, and madness combine and course through you. A love that will never dilute - even when the waters get deep, and dark.

A Cure for Restlessness

I remember coming back from a road trip few years ago has left me with a sense of restlessness. It's always hard to go from being in absolute adventure, full of new words and people, to something routine. But it's all about perspective. Throwback moment that I had recently brought my thoughts back to when I was lost in the middle of the town. But it's nice, so I stopped and recalled my childhood moments. Because it's the place I grew up in. There's so much of it I've yet to see. My former life, and yet, that little block I'd never registered in my memory. Or maybe, moving away is what it took for me to notice those things. It's as if you have to leave in order to come home and see what's really there. I have a soul that's always longing to wander. I can't stay indoor even for a week, I'm the kind of person that always wants to be somewhere else. However, I'm still in a season of transition, a time of learning, growing and preparation. I'm not sure what for exactly, but I just know that this is a vital time during which is so important for me to be patient and learn what fuels my soul.

So far I've learned the these, cure for restlessness:

• Tea. Even if you have to microwave the water because you don't have a kettle..

• Books. All kinds. All topics. All the books.

• How I Met Your Mother. Or whatever happens to be your TV fix as of late. Every night as you fall asleep.

• Gratitude. And expressing it.

• Writing letters or postcards. The good, old-fashioned, stick a stamp on it, push it through the mail slot kind.

• Water. Lots.

• Music. As often as you can. As loud as plausible. Singing along.

..and anything nice and easy.

The only way that we can live, is if we grow. The only way that we can grow is if we change. The only way that we can change is if we learn. The only way we can learn is if we are exposed. And the only way that we can become exposed is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself.
- C. Joybell C.

Invictus: Tribute to Mandela

The comic is a tribute to Nelson Mandela and it's his favorite poem by William Ernest Henley, called Invictus. So, about the comic, the photograph he's looking at is of himself with his eldest son, Madiba Thembekile, who's killed in a car crash. Mandela wasn't allowed to attend the funeral or even find out information about the accident. Over the years, because of the way Mandela carried himself, he gained respect and friendship of some of his guards. Not only did Mandela endure 27 years of imprisonment with dignity, determination and strength, but he also chose to forgive the people who wronged him. That, in my opinion, is his most impressive accomplishment. RIP Nelson Mandela.

Sciences Sing a Lullaby

Physics says: go to sleep. Of course you're tired. Every atom in you has been dancing the shimmy in silver shoes nonstop from mitosis to now. Quit tapping your feet. They'll dance inside themselves without you. Go to sleep.

Geology says: it will be all right. Slowly inch by inch your country is giving itself to the ocean. Go to sleep. Let darkness lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch. You aren't alone. All of the continents used to be one body. You aren't alone. Go to sleep.

Astronomy says: the sun will rise tomorrow.

Zoology says: on rainbow-fish and lithe gazelle.

Psychology says: but first it has to be night, so..

Biology says: the body-clocks are stopped all over town and..

History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.

- Albert Goldbarth

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