The Lives Of Man
Imam Abdallah Ibn Alawi Al-Haddad
[ ] Dave Mathews Band
[ ] Rabindranath Tagore
[ ] Yuan Mei
[ ] John Irving
[ ] Wally Lamb
[ ] Dashboard Confessionals
[ ] Rudyard Kipling
[ ] Lauryn Hill
[ ] Radiohead
[ ] Stereophonics
[ ] Alanis Morisette
[ ] Prodigy
[ ] Felipe Alfau
[ ] Ahmed Deedat
[ ] Imam Abdallah Ibn Alawi Al-Haddad
Wrapped, surrounded by ten thousand mountains.
Cut off, no place to go...
Until you're here, there's no way to get here.
Once you're here, there's no way to go.
On the Road to T'ien-T-Ai
Yuan Mei
Don't you practice forgiveness in your religion?!
Reda to his father
Le Grand Voyage
Can there be (any) doubt in Allah - the Maker of the heavens and the earth?
I am proud. I am a proud woman. If you terrified me, I wouldn't show it. If you pleased me, I wouldn't show it. If you were searching for a way - any way - to get to me ... I wouldn't allow it.
So I move through the days an emotional wall to people who don't matter, or to some who do for that matter. This is why in my private space, if you have my heart & hold it close, I am most open, honest, forgiving. I have to be. Otherwise I'd go crazy.
I find there are days when it's superbly easy to love. yet there are others adamantly hard. I love easy. Those are days I can find a million and two things wonderful about my world & the people who inhabit it.
But it's a little hard right now. I'm proud again. More importantly, I'm cold. I'm not caring about what I need to care about.
I'm guessing it's becos you hurt me. & I took it personal.
I have learnt to let a lot of things go. But I took this one personal.
& you not saying anything, or doing anything about it, will just allow it to fester.
& in my bruised ego right now, I don't particularly care very much. becos I am proud once more, & u r going to become someone who doesn't matter. if this carries on.
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 11:56 PM
this is wot motherhood does for you: for the first time in your life, you have a cause you would die for.
it's a gross understatement to say my life has changed. it is feverishly beyond that. today, i have a wriggly little bundle who talks back to me in his gibbly little language. sometimes at 4am, opening his eyes becos his tummy tells him to, he looks at me and laughs. & i know he's saying "hehe mommy, i made you stay up!". & it would take the whole world to make me not kiss him over & over in that moment.
i have never been predisposed to these little people (my sister calls him "si manusia kecik"). i'd see cousins or colleagues or distant friends with babies, & i stand around to soak in the spirit. but i've never overtly wished, or longed, or hankered for one. it was never something i sat down to seriously ponder, although i knew it was something i'd like to have one day. i was actually envisioning kids, not babies. i, as i'm sure many others do, was kind of hoping i'd be able to skip the night feedings, leaky tits, dirty diapers & mysterious crying altogether.
but along with all the physical baggage was this absolutely real little human being who could look in your eyes, who knows that you love him, feels safe in your arms & relentlessly loves to tease you.
as his first month drew near, the house was delirious with the fact that he was starting to laugh. they didn't know that within his first week home, rousing from one of his many countless sleeps, he had turned to his right, seen his mother ... & laughed.
he was saying, "hi mommy!"
& that is a memory burnt in my heart, only for me.
Raheel has come a long way. the first day we brought him home was the first time i unwrapped him for a diaper change. i had a shock - he was so skinny! he had the cherubic cheeks of an angel, so through all those layers i was fooled into thinking that the rest of him was as cherub (i never unwrapped him throughout my hospital stay because he couldn't stand the cold).
but today he's such a big boy, with irresistable drumlet thighs, & arms like german franks. i call his arms "the aliens", because they keep flying everywhere & really much to his chagrin - they land on his cheeks, his head & most frequently his mouth (where he welcomes them truly). he has no idea they're attached to him.
but recently he's started to see them (the aliens) because he keeps looking at them while they flail about. he's started to see his bottle too. sometimes during feeds, he'd almost cross his eyes trying to check if his mommy was conning him with diluted pear juice again. lol.
it's 1am as i write. as usual Raheel's mom, being a nightbird now, stays up for his feeds. he's sprawled in his cot prolly dreaming of all the giants who fuss & speak gibberish, & he's making little baby noises.
the king, whom his humble lady serves faithfully, & loves unconditionally, awakeths soon.
it's tiring to be this cute, mommy!
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 12:23 AM
Exactly 24 days after I penned that last entry, I strolled home from work trying to remember when my last period was. Because it seemed ages ago. and while I wasn't complaining, it was really something to be curious about.
So I stopped by the pharmacy and grabbed a test.
I still remember sitting on the toilet bowl and watching the two lines appear almost instantaneously.
I've taken these tests before. At least twice. & it's always been "okay negative, phew".
So when I read the results from the pamphlet, it didn't register in my head. It was exactly like the day I got my O level results. I ran around like a chicken for awhile pointing at my slip and asking everyone "What does this mean? What does this MEAN??!!"
It took me 2 full minutes i.e. 120 seconds to fully understand, realise, register and internalize that two lines meant
positive.
The rest of that night was agonizing, because the wonderful husband took his own sweet time savouring his paper work, stopping by the workshop, and completing generally menial tasks in hopelessly elongated stretches of time.
But when he reached home, he had a surprise waiting for him in a plastic bag in the closet.
It was in fact, three surprises - three pairs of red lines.
The first time we went to the gynae, all that showed on the screen was a spectre. It looked like a microscopic Casper the ghost floating around in the other-worldly universe that is my womb.
Three weeks later, we could see his head, two beautiful arms with perfect fingers, and a pair of gorgeous legs. And the best part was that he wiggled! He wiggled on screen!
It was the most beautiful poetry in motion. And I fell in love.
Getting from the second scan to the third was like a lifetime away. People were throwing wild guesses around about wot he was, but the majority seemed confident and comfortable that he was a HE.
I don't know if it was just maternal instincts or if I've just been biased or if I've ALWAYS been biased (because I'm hoping for a boy), but I've always known in my mind and in my heart (and now proven in my belly), that Weefee will grow into a beautiful, intelligent, strong and opinionated boy.
Two weeks ago, the gynae pointed at his weewee.
It doesn't matter how many months have passed, or how many weeks ago was wot. I've fallen in love. Pretty hard. & I know I would do anything for this little parasite growing in my body.
& I don't know what will come and really, come what may. Because whatever comes will meet me in between.
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 7:29 PM
Hasn't it been awhile? It's not just an absence of time and the internet, it's an absence of energy and passion. And I wish for all back (I'm greedy that way).
So let see, how has it been. My kittens are so beautiful now. I never wrote about them but they're such smelly, silly little lovably irritating furballs. Zeze was our first. Black & white, the hubs spotted him on SPCA's website and became adamant about going down. The first time we ever saw him, he was in this small 1ft by 1ft kennel, scrawny, sticky, gangly and playing with his litter pellets.
He's got beautiful big eyes, small white socks on the edge of his front paws, ridiculously huge ears, a flag on the end of a beautiful black tail and a trademark black mole on his white mouth. Remie called him "Molie", and we promptly stuffed him in the new carrier and brought him for lunch. Poor Baby (as he was christened by creative creatures at SPCA) suffered 3 hours in a miserable plastic container watching five strange humans laugh & cackle, then was forced to endure a nauseating carride.
That same day, he was renamed Zeze (zebra) for the single streak of white running down his black belly. He was alone for a whole week. Everyday after work, he'd jump on us and start chewing our toes. I knew he was going out of his mind from the boredom so I visited catwelfare.org and found a litter of kittens. 2 of the most beautiful were already adopted (predictably) so we visited the third cutest, called Stripey (again, creative creature habits). Coincidentally, the catlady lived 2 streets away.
The moment we stepped in her house, Stripey ran out from under a chair on his short stumpy legs, and though all I saw of him was the back of his head and a stumpy but ambitious tail, I absolutely fell in love. & when we noticed Leo's lazy eye, we knew we absolutely had to have him.
His picture didn't do justice. Stripey has beautiful amber mascara lines on his eyes, gorgeously defined stripes on his forearms and hind legs, and a lovely dotted belly!!! He's pretty, very very pretty, and we brought him home.
Later that day, I suggested naming him Cleo in tribute to Cleopatra but the hubs scowled at me. So a good compromise came disposing the "C" - he has a beautiful brown nose too anyway like a lazy lion.
Leo & Zeze's first meeting was an incredibly stressful affair. Zeze came running out and started eyeing the carrier suspiciously, and when Leo snuck out and tried to nuzzle, Zeze just hissed. & this might've been our mistake because Leo was smelling of multiple cats (his 'old hood' was a multi-cat household) so we should've showered him first. No matter anyway. For the next three days there were hisses and snarls galore, and Leo, in an overcompensation for his stature (Zeze towers over him), literally screams & barks his way through.
After 3 days of joyous confinement together for extended pariods (we had to during work), they finally learned they were stuck for life. By the end of the first week, they were nuzzling.
Today, almost four months later Zeze and Leo emulate their masters. Zeze, taking after me, is the fussiest cat in the world and refuses to eat anything remotely crunchy. He's always howling for wet food and every morning, demands attention by licking our nostrils. Problem is, we mind his tuna breath & prioritise our sleep so he gets thrown back into the toilet. Leo, having developed a habit of eating come what may including not very tasty crunchy things, & coming back for thirds and fourths, is predictably pudgy. He's very independently happy on his own but is terrified of strange crowds.
& it's a happy family.
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 9:04 AM
Name: faith affair Birthday: september 4 Birthplace: kandang kerbau Current Location: rainy east. i however, pledge myself spiritually to the west. \m/ Eye Color: honestly, dark brown. Hair Color: black Height: too short Right Handed or Left Handed: rightie. Your Heritage: penang & sumatera The Shoes You Wore Today: don't ask Your Weakness: 1. books. 2. my cards. it's so fucking easy to spend i should be arrested. 3. him Your Fears: figurative emotional storms Your Perfect Pizza: not a big pizza fan. ask me about soup. Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: not sure i want to reach it. more stress. Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger: gone are the days of MSN =/ Thoughts First Waking Up: "what time do i really, really, really need to be in the office??" <--- lol. ditto Sha. Your Best Physical Feature: cheekbones, i have been told. Your Bedtime: i'm always snoring by 11ish. i'm boring that way now. Your Most Missed Memory: my dad's bedtime stories. Pepsi or Coke: teh-O MacDonalds or Burger King: pastamania Single or Group Dates: groups. the right groups. Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Lipton. Nestea sucks. Chocolate or Vanilla: strawberry Cappuccino or Coffee: coffee Do you Smoke: still. Do you Swear: always Do you Sing: of course Do you Shower Daily: i try to. Have you Been in Love: yes Do you want to get Married: lol. Do you belive in yourself: not nearly enough. Do you get Motion Sickness: when i read in the bus Do you think you are Attractive: think, yes. Are you a Health Freak: to my detriment, no Do you get along with your Parents: when they're good. Do you like Thunderstorms: not since i moved to the eighth floor. Do you play an Instrument: hell yes. heh. In the past month have you Drank Alcohol: yes, thanks to Mrs Russian Mobster In the past month have you been on Drugs: Not for fucking AGES man ... >( In the past month have you gone on a Date: oh man ... my dating life is officially *over*. like, in more ways than one In the past month have you gone to a Mall: if you count hanging out with a hubby's friend we passed by on the road *rolls eyes* In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos: i don't eat oreos. In the past month have you eaten Sushi: no. i miss it =( In the past month have you been on Stage: ask me 3 months ago. In the past month have you been Dumped: not in the past month, no In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping: i should have, shouldn't i?? In the past month have you Stolen Anything: lol ... hell no Ever been Drunk: d-uh. Ever been called a Tease: yes Ever been Beaten up: bad memories Ever Shoplifted: in tudung + baju kurung. lol. How do you want to Die: giving birth What do you want to be when you Grow Up: passionate What country would you most like to Visit: greek isle's. whatever's exotic. Which country let you down during Travelling: if anyone allowed their travel to let them down, they're travelling for all the wrong reasons.
In a Boy/Girl.. Favourite Hair Color: black Short or Long Hair: short Height: just nice Weight: not fat Best Clothing Style: lazaire faire. smart & preppy. intelligent.
Number of Drugs I have taken: not enough Number of Piercings: 2 Number of Tattoos: nada Number of things in my Past I Regret: quite a few. but it's okay, that's what kids are for right
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 2:24 AM
I've been wanting to bitch about this for the longest time but I'm always so emotionally drained by the time I subtract everything reserved for work, generally annoying colleagues, impossibly demanding bosses, highly disgruntled suppliers, dubiously silent girlfriends and gracefully saving spouse. But since I'm still up at this time with some energy to burn off (don't know why), I suppose I'll jump into it.
I can never, for the life of me, understand this big challenge for woman, this ergonomic disaster, this Noah's ark, this Great Albatross of humanity, to fucking pee INTO the toilet bowl without so much of A SINGLE DROP of stray pee, and then a further mission to fucking FLUSH the fucking TOILET.
ESPECIALLY with A READY WORKING HOSE!
I mean ... REALLY!!!???!! What the FUCK is your CHALLENGE, WOMAN?!
1. You don't have a dick with a mind of its own that chooses to stand when you need to go so that you shoot yourself in the eye. 2. The fucking hose that expels fucking clean, desalinated water that's working absolute-fucking fine is next to your fucking ass 3. The fucking toilet roller that's 6 fucking inches away from your fucking face sports a fucking fresh roll of the softest tissue in the fucking universe for your fucking Royal Ass
AND YOU STILL MANAGE TO GET PEE ON THE FUCKING BOWL?! I mean ... how the hell do you do it?!
Oh I know.
You forgot to take the carrot out from last night's orgasmic sex with Y.O.U.R F.I.N.G.E.R.S.
Right? Cibai.
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 12:46 AM
I used to think, being the old adage of whatever going around having to return around, that I would be utterly and decrepidly miserable arriving at this stage of life. That things will go wrong one after the other, like domino. That I would arrive at a stage completely existentially unworthy.
And I live everyday mindful of all this.
But I've been wrong so far (although I would not say indefinitely). It's been beautiful, and I absolutely want to keep it beautiful. It's such a lovely journey of discovery. And it's quite crazy really because all my prior, adolescent notions of this place was always about the novelty. And when you get to a certain age it's about being at a place you'd like to push off as further from you as you can. And when it's the week before you get dizzy with all the doubting questions.
And when you finally arrive, you're just baffled. That all it takes is for you to cruise, Captain & First Mate, and gel together. And navigate through storms together. And cruise through blue skies together.
That is all. And then when night falls, to fall asleep together.
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 11:23 AM
The following are missions I foresee in the near future that the husband prefers to accomplish in a more distant century: 1. Throw out bulky lazyboy that's become a clothes hanger (self: guilty) 2. Throw out mini rack that's repositioning identity (it now fancies itself as a blackhole - into which all things go and never return) 3. Throw out similar computer desk that's housing everything else BUT a working computer 4. IKEA purchase(s)! Teehehe! (this particular point is extremely elastic and therefore highly expandable) 5. Put UP the freaking tie hanger bought BEFORE the wedding that's currently still lounging around somewhere ELSE! 6. Cable. 100 fucking channels. 7. HER corner - comfy rugs + make up + miscellaneous female accessories 8. HIS corner - everything else 9. Samsung Box. LCD screen. *cough* *cough* 10. KITTENS! One pair.
Teehehe!
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 10:17 AM
It's not easy. It's never easy. My social life seems to have multiplied because there are now two of everything - friends, family. Of course if (no, I should really articulate ... when) the time comes, there will always only be one (that matters) - family.
Weekends are so indefinitely precious - so much more so now than before. It's the only day you get to fully celebrate that other body warming the bed - arms, legs, morning breath and everything. Oh but weekend mornings are notoriously shortlived. Like right now being a Saturday exit - how rueful. Where the hell did it go?!
Oh, and fighting is a new dimension. No more phone to put down, or not answer. No strange road to walk off on. Just the other side of the bed. Beastly.
But it's wonderful. The more you know it's mortality and the bigger you sense its transcience, the better you appreciate all the goodness and soul and heart and warmth. And endurance.
And Love. Lots and lots of love.
the world is a timebomb in my hands dug @ || 1:36 AM
