jangan lupa namaku - II

http://meniruanginmenyanyi.blogspot.com/2013/01/assalamualaikum-irfan.html

remember when mama wrote to you last year, irfan? guess what, insyaAllah you will meet abah and mama in about 2 months time (yeay!)

at seven months i never knew i could vomit like i did when i was still having my morning sickness. and for some reason i thought i needed to hear some music and alas, i picked the same song all over again, the one i have always loved to hear since the first time he asked me to listen to it.

once, when we were listening to this song together, i was sitting on the floor while he sat on a chair, and he gently pulls my head to rest onto his lap. he then caressed me slowly, and he asked me to always remember the lyrics.

and i did. i love to sing along to this song but there were times when i just listen to it, without making a sound, like really listen. and what i hear is his voice, his words. 

abah loves mama so much, irfan.

and after all the years that mama have waited for abah to finish his degree, seeing abah only on weekends and holidays, bearing the pain of separation, while carrying you sometimes mama feel so alone and abah said 'irfan kan ada teman anje :)' and then you kicked inside mama, which is one of the best feelings in the world. and mama can put the smiley after the words right there because mama knows abah always smiled when he said those words.

but now alhamdulillah, alhamdulillah, all praises to Allah, abah has successfully finished his degree and is staying with us, irfan. a new episode begins.

we can't wait to start preparing for your arrival, and lets together pray for our family's happiness, longevity and blessings from Allah, shall we? mama loves irfan and abah irfan so, so much only Allah knows :)

qilaamir.tumblr.com

ハグとニーナ

I got to spend some time with my laptop these few nights.

All I can say is,
you need to take some time off for yourself once in a while.
you need to create space with your beloved half, family and work that have encapsulated you.
you need to just.be.you.

I used to sleep late.
I used to have teary eyes, with or without reason.
I used to listen to yawarakana jikan to sleep.
I used to befriend strangers.
And these strangers, whom some I have never met, have changed my life forever.
I used to just look from afar.
I used to be detached from others, and learnt to enjoy things as they are, with no expectations.
I had a lot of dreams. And nightmares too.
I used to keep my lips tight when I actually have amount of stories to tell,
And be contented simply by praying hard.
I used to be able to workout everyday,
dieting on Pepsi Max, Lays & Shin Ramen.
I used to feel very empty, but always accompanied.
I used to want less,
But I did a lot by myself.
I used to have a lot of me-time, and-
I used to be close to You more than anything.

And after years of living with other people,
working like I'm in sure hell,
and almost losing myself,

I miss me too bad.
Too bad that I almost cried when I realized how far I have been displaced from myself,
from being me.
I then knew that no matter how good my life has developed whilst surrounded by very awesome people,
no matter how important a career woman I have become,

I still miss me.
To be drawn deep into a heart of longing for reminiscence, ponders and wonders.
To be lost in the yellowy of summer, grinning,
or to struggle with clenching teeth, almost hating winter.
To snap endless photos of spring, imagining how it would be like to be able to capture the songs of the flowers too.
Or to walk alone after a stressful test in fall, relieved, squeezing the dead leaves and watching them blown onto the side of the road.

.Me.

I'm looking for myself again.

Shang Ri Lo

The sun shone intermittently into the panes of our bedroom's window, it looks more like a summer day then. Inside, I was laying on my back doing some cycling, it has been a long while since I last exercise at home. This is probably the first in about six months.

I was listening to the now-became-mundane song from my iPod. It was mio nemico. Somehow, peculiarly enough, I tried to dive into the song again. Maybe because I had to, since I haven't updated my songs list. Or maybe because I was just trying to relive the past.

Even so, when I looked up at the ceiling, the view was stunning. The sun rays gave life to the spinning fan, making it looked like a very big daisy. With the breezing wind, I felt like I was blanketed by it.

It was the first bright insight in ages; I could feel myself soaked in me again after so long. The fact that I had that perspicacity, that personification element in that tiny bedroom shocked me that it didn't tear my eyes. I was simply shocked that I still had it in me.

I guess then I don't easily vanished just because my life has changed.

I would love it so much to write more, to observe and be able to describe things more like I do, to see from my own eyes, to sing more, to cycle more, to exercise more. Because I become alive when I do.

And I miss Australia ever more. Ever more.

Pepsi Twist instead of my all-time favourite Pepsi Max

I may say that it is the post-sickness syndrome.

11 hours straight of sleep and now I feel like doing everything I can get my hands to. Washing the clothes, having a great breakfast, cleaning the room, writing my blog.

I always experience this after I recover from painful sickness; a fever, or a severe headache. Amid the crazy workload in the office, it struck me of what my husband said - Perhaps this is the only way that I might finally have some rest.

And it worked. It had been quite a long time since I feel this energetic.

I was fasting yesterday, and the pounding headache started just after I went out from the subway into the office building. And it built up since; I felt as if I wanted to drill a hole into my head. I tried to sleep, but that only worked for an hour or two. After that, I found myself kneeling on the floor, looking down to avoid the lights, and crying, because I didn't know what else to do.

I vomited green at nearly 5 o'clock in the afternoon. I texted my husband; "I'm going to the clinic; I can't take it anymore."

It was a brief meeting with the doctor, she prescribed me Cefargot with a smile, telling me I should be okay by the morning. "Migraine? But I have never had it before," I conflicted, but she just said, "Well, it can develop." And showed me the way out.

Later when I told my husband that the doctor prescribed me Cefargot, he said the doctor was wrong. We knew better; it was the insane workload, the restless hours, the worries of due dates that drawn my body to sickness. And I guess we were right; I am now okay with only painkillers. I didn't take any Cefargot. I had a feeling that taking those pills will make me sick again, next time with an actual migraine.

I have always hated this clinic. The doctors seemed to be more like machines rather than doctors. I overheard a conversation between the clinic attendant and a foreigner. She should have had an appointment yesterday afternoon, but the clinic had to cancel it, so they called this lady to say so. Thing is, she wasn't able to pick up the call, and presumed that it was nothing so she continued to go to the clinic as planned.

She arrived at the clinic having the clinic TA telling her that the appointment had actually been cancelled. She was devastated and asked why didn't she be informed about it. The clinic TA claimed that they had actually called her to tell her about the cancellation.

"How many times did you call me? I have only one miscall. In my country, the clinic will call many times to make sure the patient is well informed."

The clinic TA fell silent. The lady then shook her head and went out.

Well, I dig her enough. But I wasn't really listening; my head was pounding too hard. At about 5.45 o'clock, my husband came to pick me home.

I wanted to eat beef porridge to break fast, so we went to look for one, much to my disappointment, though.

While my husband ordered chicken rice at a Chinese Muslim restaurant, I waited in the car, viewing the world passing through outside the car window. I looked, and wondered; why is it that most of the time I never get to eat what I actually wanted at the time? I really wanted to eat beef porridge, and I was fasting, AND I was not feeling well. I ought to get what I wanted, right? Is it too hard a request?

I was almost crying, when I realized,

Perhaps this is what Allah wants. Perhaps He wants to teach me that His wills are far better than my desires. Perhaps He wants me to align my desires to His wills.

Oh Allah, then, I will eat what You pleases me to eat. Whatever You have decided for me, they are all the best, because You always know better.

It was a teary realization, but it had put my heart at ease. And I cannot thank You enough, my Lord. Alhamdulillah.

Now, off for some clothes hanging business! :)

is that you, mr kunci hilang? i wonder.

there's a saying that goes

'everyday is quite a routine but you are always a different person from you were yesterday. a little wiser, a little..more.'

i had the chance to go through my past posts and comments.

to feel the same way as when i was writing them long ago. to get comments like 'anta no koto nanka omoshiroi. kotoba. yasashi no kotoba'. and to relive the experience.

i guess the calling to write and have a blog was a right choice. sometimes i wonder whether i would like to reread my posts and to acknowledge that things are different now and then; i might be missing parts of my life that i dont know whether i can have them again or not. and to wonder about whether my life has been better or worse now.

i realized now that it is not important. all these times, all these experiences, the good and bad-

are all me. the minion orphan who have a wondrous life experiences.

i walked alone yesterday from the heavily congested traffic, into the greenery area of our future rental house. there were doves picking on the grass, cars were very few, the grass are light green to yellowish in colour. there were little hills by which stairs are built to connect between the different blocks, and our block is slate clean. some newborn cats are resting under the hot sun, some are sleeping with their mothers. leftover rice were carefully put on newspapers at one corner of the building, under the stairs so it wont get spoiled by wind or rain. i couldnt remember if there was a bowl of water next to it, but i'd like to believe that it was there.

mr yap: so how's our princess doing today?
me: well..the princess thinks that she has found her house.
mr yap: ahh..good for you. how far is it from lrt?
me: about 15 mins walk.
mr yap: that's quite far..and the area..there are many bad hats around, you know. i know the area. i am worry for you.
me: yeah..well my future neighbour said he brings a big umbrella with him always, just for protection.
mr yap: well..yeah..but being you you need to be less attractive..you look like a princess you should need an escort wherever you go.
me: hahaha..i should be fine with the umbrella..perhaps i shouldnt go back home late as well.
mr yap: yes. and wear snickers to and fro work to help you walk and run.
me: yep.
mr yap: you should bring jeans with you as well. change everyday before you go back home. make it a habit, you'll get used to it fairly fast.
me: that's good advice. thanks mr yap!

back to lrt, i followed a short cut paved with red bricks with big shady trees bellowing their leaves from atop to mask the blaring sun. i was sweating my shirts wet but calm inside. out from the paved road, i continued my steps again into a busier, more hectic traffic.

into a busier, more hectic life.

just to get challenged again. just to get riled up the courses of harsh reality, demands and expectations again.

well, it doesnt matter. i dont have all the time in the world anyway, and so does all problems. i just need to catch up, be wiser, keep moving forward. thats the only sensible choice i can come with.

ganbaranakya yo ne.

p.s: have a blessed birthday, habib ali al jufri. i like to hear you and see you smile i think i am seeing a bit of the prophet through your eyes.