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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.

concerning the sound of a train whistle in the night - haruki murakami

this is the 400th post.

i went back early today; well, we all did. nadia and i went to kino. i wanted to find a part of me that's missing.

when i walked back home, the rain has just stopped but sun rays were already dancing through the leaves. Traces of rain drops falling from the leaves of the line of trees where i was walking, and then absorbed by the pavement and some of them seeped into my shoes i was almost careful not to splash them. the sky was heavy but bright at the same time, shades of grey and dark blue and white filled the sea blue sky. i could see KLCC from where i was standing.

nearer to my block i could hear guitar being played, the music reminds me of hobbies and good times, and how everyone should have some spare time to do what they really want to do, everyday. that very thought clenches my heart sometimes too tight but i usually would have been too tired to remove it. missing a part of yourself is like a coming wave, it comes to you for a sudden without you anticipate it, and sometimes it goes away from you unnoticed. and i, the more, want it back that it aches me to remember the glittering past whereby i can sit still all afternoon and spend it quietly with the chirps of birds and swimming ducks by the student accommodation's lake.

so i try, little by little, to bring back those times, albeit it is not common. although it would take some time, although at certain places and conditions it would not fit. even earlier when i was watching those falling rain drops, i blinked many times, just to make sure my eyes took enough snapshots to store it longer in my mind.

my creativity is one of the fine arts that define me, and it is draining i can feel i am not soaked in it anymore like i was in my formal studying years. and darn it, i cannot let it go i want it back too much i will definitely get it back with His will. and He knows best.

i stumbled upon a book on creativity, on how to stay creative, some words are:

- dont wait until you are better to be creative
- everyone should have a side job, a part hobby
- write what you want to read

very good insights indeed.

ascending up the lift, i then wondered about the time that we can eventually live together, in our own house, with our own furniture, book shelves, kitchen, toilets, bedrooms, and lawns.

if we cannot have our own book room, then our bedroom and living room will have a lot of book shelves. i am a book keeper so i will find it hard to let go of books. some i will keep just to make sure i will read them again with different perspectives, just to track how much i have changed between the years.

i love children books so no matter how many children we would have i will eventually buy some time by time. i love the honest and merry english and i'm always amazed how simple words can mean the world to me sometimes. and japanese books, too, as i am sure as heaven right now that no matter what i cannot let go of my dream to go there, or live there for a while, or for forever. i don't know about forever yet, but i am sure going. im going, no matter what.

and i will make sure that the cupboards and book shelves are all wood-made, so after some years it would smell of books and trees and chocolate pages. and i will have a lot of note books by which i doodle or draw or write good quotes or some japanese. i haven't found one type that i can live with forever, though. although some are very nice and 'me' but since they are pricey they are automatically out. i have decided that i don't need a lot of money to be creative, my history has definitely proved that.

and my wardrobe will be full of colours, so of course i will arrange them according to the rainbow. but i am not sure about my wardrobe being tidy; sometimes he is better and sometimes i do like to play around with my things up to a point that they would become messy. a little bit- i am a freaking perfectionist to be able to stay messy, anyway.

by thinking how 'me' i can be, makes me happy. (^___~)Y

"happiness is when what you think, say and do, are in harmony"

da ne?

and there's another thing that makes me happy that each time i recall it my heart will feel warm and my mind can be calm again.

the moment when i just finished drying my body after bath and he came with a comb, asked me to sit in front of him and started to comb my hair. although i see in movies that they usually chat about a lot of nice things during that time but i was too happy that i didn't know what words to say.

a taste of heaven, i should have said. thank you forever, my soulmate cum hubby. i love you.