You Make Me Crazy.

You are
cocky
arrogant
an asshole
unbelievable.

But I
dig
You

Truly
Deeply
Faithfully

I must be mad.

Welcome.

Privilege
is living
without having experienced
life
taken forcefully from you

Luck
is being born
in a family
no matter how
dysfunctional
it could have been an alley
you see

Grace
is being fed
with education
that distinguished
you from
the rest

Peace
shall never be understood
by people living in peace
if only they know
They will rather die
than talking unpeaceful
things.

Salam to all the people
who have never had privilege
luck
grace
nor peace
Welcome to my house.

Down the Memory Lane.

There is one thing that I regret the most in this world. I had once behaved like a vain, self-absorbed bitch that I am certain costs me a friend. I didnt mean how I behaved, but one day someone else did the same to me, and I feel like slapping that person out of her pretense.

Whoa. Shoulda slapped my pretty little face first.

I had a friend. She used to be my everything. We share small things and big things and supported each other through our little asrama-life and it was fun. She was fun, beautiful, and real.

We'd be laughing like madwomen till 2 am on weekends, and eat maggi with cool water and would later be punished by wardens to sit by the fence, cold, in whatever shorts/ scissored t shirts that we were wearing. We'd be wondering together whether our prayers were accepted cos we do a lotta "jahat" things, which are not really jahat I dont think so.. Okay, maybe we hug our boyfriends, so what? hehe.. its not like theres no sluttier gals around that might have slept around.. :-) Uu...

But one day, after about 8 years separated from each other, I met her. My regrettable inability to say no to another friend who also asked me out had led us to go out together, all three of us.

And at that moment, I was someone else. Let me tell you whom I pretended to be. I was this tak sedar diri bitch who spoke with a freaking accent and talk about things like man,.. like I had a PhD on every matter! This friend never wants to do anything with me after that memorable meeting.

Who was that? I didnt like that girl at all.

My point of writing this is to get it out of my system.
So I won't do it ever again.
So that if she reads this (I doubt it), she'd have the heart to forgive me. (Yeah, she can slap me too if she likes).
So that I remember how much I dont like being pretentious. It's killing me.
So Sarimah can learn a thing or two about life.. hehee.. no lah, she's way too real to be pretentious.. She's like kurang upaya or something in terms of being pretentious. Simply not able to pretend like a bitch.

Cos maybe she already is.
Haha.

Arson.

One morning
I woke up
and smell
Smoke.

From the west it
passed my bedroom
window
Warning

Thus I
started building a bridge
that connects the
West
to the rest

The last nail hammered
and I saw hundreds
Villagers
running
towards me
from the West

In fear they
ran and
tramped over me

I died
building a bridge
that saved them
from oppression
violence
and fruit of corruption

How I never regret
the morning
I smelled
My
Purpose.

Excitement I was compelled to share.

Excitement I was compelled to share.

When your friend is super excited about her wedding, you gotta be super duper magnanimously more excited than her. It's called bitch-support. If she calls you using the department store's phone asking for opinion on THE wedding fabric that in the end she won't give a damn about, you just go and give the damn advice anyway, and eat that ice-cream.

Aktiviti membalut.

"Petunang I tinggi ni la lebih kurang"

"Beb, make sure fabric tu tak slippery, kot2 la you nak main lompat2 ngan Syah nanti.." I said

Oi tengok apa tu??!

If she looks like this, just imagine my face in an effort to bitch-support..

Heh, I am really happy lah for you perempuan! Kawinlah you beria-ria.. yeargh!

Français Comme Je l'ai Connu.

Français Comme Je l'ai Connu.

Eh bien, le moment que vous lisez cet entry, vous voyez que mon français n'est pas parfait. Alors, c'est bien naturel à cause de ne me pas l'utiliser depuis trois années. Mais, récemment, quel qu'un m'appeler pour un intervue et a demandé que je présente un petit recourse en français pour 2 minutes. Comme un speech, si vous voulez.

Je suis pas nerveuse, parce que on peut auta karek avec français orale et personne le réalisera. Et c'est plus fun aussi parce que SARIMAH ne vas pas comprendre ce que je dis et vas penser que ça c'est un grand entry qui se discuter à propos d'elle. Quelle joie de vivre!

Il est bien un majeure challenge d'écrire ça petite histoire, pourriez-vous imaginer de parler à propos des rélations internationales au public? Je dois mentionner comment la séparation the Nicolas Sarkozy de sa femme effecter la politique française.. et aussi peut être de Pak Lah avec sa nouvelle femme, Jean Abdullah? Très scandaleux, je vous dis.

Non, mes amis.. Il faut discuter probablement des sujets comme désarmament, la réforme de l'ONU, ou bien le sujet que je déteste de tout mon coeur, l'ASEAN.

Il sera un task dûr pour moi.. En plus avec le français qui ne peut pas m'installer au moins à la porte de l'ONU. Mais ce que j'ai, c'est de la faith, beaucoup d'elle. On verra!

V-Day Treat.

Been writing more poems nowadays. Perhaps cos it's shorter, though not necessarily simpler. Not that I dont have time - I'm on an indefinite vacation and Lord knows how much time I have to waste/fill.

Whatever.
Here goes another.
V-day, remember?

Conversation.

The lover in you
is talking
to the lover in me

"Have we known each other?"
"You taste familiar"
"I am sick with passion,
lend me a cure"
"Why are we imprisoned?"
"Why can't we see each other?"
"Touch me"

The lover in you
is talking
to the lover in me

And we are sitting here
drinking coffee by the moonlight
Symphatizing
with the agony
Of the blind lovers'
Conversation.

A Hole in Your Shirt.

There's a hole in your
Shirt
which I sneaked in
to look for
You

I have returned
from that venture
Exhausted
for having lost
Myself
in
You

There's a hole in your
Shirt
It was enough
for a hundred years
of
Remembrance.

On the line.

Have you found my heart?
Because you are the only one
Who trespassed
into my
Realm

This is the line
and your feet remain
on it.

Masakan Baru.

Berapa lama
Masa
yang akan kita ambil
untuk
Mencernakan
Huruf-huruf yang menyebut

M-E-L-A-Y-U
C-I-N-A
I-N-D-I-A
J-A-W-A
B-E-N-G-A-L-I
I-B-A-N
K-A-D-A-Z-A-N
A-S-L-I
B-A-J-A-U

Masakkanlah huruf-huruf itu
menjadi suatu hidangan yang baru
mungkin bunyinya

BA-BAN-LA-LI-WA-CI-DI-AS-LI-ZAN-IN-JAU-DA-BEN-KA-NA-ME-JA-I-GA-A-YU

Lagukan kesemuanya sekali!
Rasailah nikmat harmoni rasa itu
Aku yakin
setiap ciri bahannya akan masih mampu
kau nilaikan satu persatu

Tapi yang lebih penting
Haruslah
yang baru itu dicari maknanya yang baru
ditolak-tolakkanlah sifat benci
dipanggil-pangilkanlah muafakat!

Kerna sesuatu yang indah
umpama Malaysia itu
Bukankah hasil tangan semua?
Lalu usah biarkan
Fikiran rosak membunuh
kecantikannya.

Ayuhlah!

Of Singledom, Freedom, and Papedom..

No matter how cool I look in my 20-ringgit-Paris Hilton-style-big ass-shade, I'd pretend to be cooler than that when the matter pops up (time and again and time and again).

"Mak ni, tengok orang sana sini bermenantu, teringin jugak nak buat kenduri kat rumah ni"

Hell.

Killer sentence follows,

"Mak pun dah sakit-sakit, tak tau la lama lagi ke tak nak jadi mak enkorang ni"

The implication is clear. I better get my ass on the pelamin soon, or she'll do something crazy to make me do it.

See, I'm 25. Not 35. And y'all 25-yr-old boys and girls are making me look 5 years older than I am by merely sending your wedding cards to my home (where my mother lives). Stop, for Heaven's sake. I'd appreciate sms invitation or email or some technologically advanced methods like Friendster or Facebook!

But you know, we (the yet-to-be-married hot ladies) can't be running away or sulking our hearts out when our mothers, aunts and grandmas do this to us, or if you have a friend like Sarimah who would still send that damn card to your home regardless. Ladies, UNITE! We've to reason, explain, and share what we plan to do in life so they'll see that while we want to have our own family one day, we're at the moment consumed with our worldly affairs and lust.

More than 5 of my girlfriends have had problems whereby their boyfriends are not approved by the Lord of the Darjat Rings reigning their family. Some ladies I talked to are hungry for money than the other word with the same sound but different spelling. Some others terbalik, but have no intention to get married. While that is scary shit (I still love you beb, u know who you are), there are other cases where you find your lady friends hooking up with their true love, who happens to consume his marriage every night and yet vilifies their wives so that their girlfriends pity them.

Then weirder ideas came into being like,

"Syu, aku rasa aku nak anak bf aku, even tho dia tak kawin ngan aku sebab bini dia tu garang. Ko rasa bayi tabung uji okay tk?"

Kill me now, I still dont know if bayi tabung uji can take the male donor's name or not.

My point is, when the time comes, it'll come. People are already messed up as they are and I have no intention to just masuk line sana sini for the sake of a marriage. Sometimes I just cant quite understand how things are so simplified by the older generations as if we're cats and don't really care who that we're marrying. Sometimes I think that people like me are just shunning it off for fear of losing our freedom.

I wish mothers see marriage as a papedom in a full course meal at a mamak place; it sure adds up the taste of that fiery melange of curry and nasi beriyani, and I will want its supply to last as long as the beriyani remains in my plate, but it will never be the center of my attention, at least not for now.

May the Eye of Mommy-Sauron be fixed on my brothers! God-speed!

Be with Me.

When I learn
about humanity
Outside the house
Father,
I intend to keep it.

I will be called naiive
I will be plastered with disdain and filth
I might die drowning
in the middle of chaos
But you can never save me
from my oath for
Peace

All the more
I am in need of you
My true
Hero
So change, Father
if unable,
I beg you to pray for me

I learned what humanity is
It is devoid of a form
It is everywhere
Every single place
that God touched with
His Compassion.

So I shall be
what I intend to be
With
or
without
You
My Father.

The Third Party-Goer.

We are capturing
each other
with our
Eyes.

Words that come
out from hiding
have always
been
There.

Say it, friend
when truth is dancing
between us
Who leaped with
Joy
the most?

Let me hold
your hand
in this Threesome
meeting
Who is that holding
the other?

Hafiz.

I am currently reading Hafiz, the sufi from Persia. His poems affected me like no other. Even sometimes comparable to that of Rumi. Or, even better.

He is such a bold writer, true to his convinction, and rather playful - which makes it more fun reading him. I will reproduce here my favourite poem of his:

The Sun Never Says.

Even
After
All this time
The sun never says to the earth

"You owe
Me."

Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the
Whole
Sky.

From Ipoh to Ipanema.

7am
She strolled down the isle
Her gaze never ahead
To the left
to the right
I watch her intently
her lips twitching
and her hand reddened from weight
of fruits and vegetables

7:05am
She stopped by
like her eyelashes
we never meet
not even in the thinnest of time
parted by north and south

7:07am
She passed by
leaving me
singing the bossa nova of Ipanema
comparing the melancholic move of the servant girl
I met in Ipoh
Filling time with space
and space with her.

I want to be.

I want to be a tree
that continues to grow
leaf by leaf
every single day

This tree
because the leaves
put so much weight
the trunk shrinks
pulling it down
closer, and closer to
earth

when it dies
it dies green
and so close to earth
there will be no need
for a burial

I'm home
to the Maker
fulfilling purpose
that He made me see.

Book Crossing.

Imagine a travelling gnome.

You see it in Madrid.
Someone pick it up and travels to Brazil for spring break.

Then the person left the gnome again, this time by a blind musician in a park. And it continues to travel, as people like you and me find him.

Someone exchange the idea of the gnome with books.
Leave a book on a bench.
See where it ends up.

www.bookcrossing.com

Dear mamita, light of my life,

I hope you’re taking care of yourself well, and that the medicines serve you punctually and faithfully. For my love never ceases to surround you especially where my presence had failed.

I am more than almost always happy. I had seen two potential organisations that are best for my career advancement. Personally I prefer one from the other, where I believe I can find peace of mind and torch of my passion. But peace of mind is a luxury, and it shouldn’t be my priority now.

Today I read about Che Guevara, mamita. I fell in love with his adventures, oh how I want it to be mine. You know how we always talk about men who are true to themselves, the ones who are real, and he is so real. His father wrote about him, through a worn out diary that he found, literally saved minutes before eaten by fire.

It saddens me the way he told me about his son, mama. By the time, Che Guevara was already dead. And the father discovered the man that his son was through his writings. How painful to bear a longing that he can never quench.

I learned from him that life is found with unstoppable feet, hungry stomach, and sane mind. They drive us to be mad about discovery. Didn’t He make everything for each to be unveiled?

Would you let me be your Che, mamita?

Su