Reflections on Being Friends

Warning: This is a really selfish rant about myself.

If there was one character flaw about myself that I hate to admit, it would be my inability to stay connected to a person, when they are out of sight.

I hate to admit that truth. It is embarrassing to carry that flaw. It is humiliating to repeatedly say sorry to friends I haven't seen in months about how busy I have been to keep in touch. The excuse remains true though - I am busy. I've been busy building my life, striving for my best and relaxing in my own comforts on my free time.

No, that does not make me feel any less about you than the last time I meet you. Those signs of awkwardness that we both get when we first meet after a long time are perfectly normal - we are unsure if the other had changed, either physically or emotionally. At least my character flaw has the ability to remember the last time I felt about you. That is good enough for me.

This is the paragraph that I should blame my upbringing for making me like this - but it wouldn't change my nature, so there's really no point.

So friends, especially those who have been out of my sight or those who will - I am sorry to say that I will have a really complicated time to keep in touch. It is not in my nature to ring up for no reason, and I actually like staying this way. Society has criticized me for this habit of mine, but what doesn't society criticize about?

I know that real friends would accept people's flaws. This is again, embarrassingly, mine.

Have a happy new year all! I am not celebrating with fireworks, but with sparks of hope and ambitions for the betterment of my life.

A Very Brief Reflection

So much creative energy, just at the wrong time. Maybe I should just channel it towards my lab report – make it fun and spunk. I don’t really care about grades anymore, it’s how much I enjoy classes that matters. After this year, I’ll face back the same pressures that have constrained me all these years. Now's the time to let loose and do the best you can possibly do and not hurt anyone along the way. That’s the most important part, that no one is hurt. But maybe I’ve been hurting people.

Maybe I’ve been giving people the wrong impression and haven’t realized it. Maybe I’ve disliked some behaviors based on wrong judgment.

Well, it’s all in the past. I just need to be able to put down my defensive barrier and believe that it’s for the good. After all, being vulnerable usually leads to more love, of course, with trusted people.

But I have a lot of people I can lean on for help:
From Kadir, I get strength and hope.
From Freshta, I get courage.
From Farah, I get the child-like happiness.
From my dad, I get structure.
From my mom, I get lessons.
From Samira, I get logic.
From Pomplamoose, I get life and music.
From Ingrid Michaelson, I get comfort.
From Annie, Ari, Molly, Stephanie and Krisden – I get a girl’s essential needs.

Like my brother said, every person he meets adds something to his life. To list this would be impossible. But those are the few that pop up in my head in this creative, need-to-be-release moment.

This is Not Goodbye.

There was no goodbye. Our separation was brief, although it had longed been anticipated. When you said you had to go, I felt numb. I hope, wish, yearn with all my heart that this is not goodbye.

This is a story about my best friend and I. We had known each other for 11 years; and although we had been separated for more than half of that time, we still remain close and the best of best friends. Her name is Farah, but she has many nicknames she gives herself, like Kai or Gil. Isn't that funny?

I think one of the qualities that make our relationship so strong and unbreakable is the fact that we simply accept the other with no questions asked. Which is not an easy task because we are so different from each other. She is quiet, and I am loud. She is sensible and I am playful. She is logical while I am intuitive. She enjoys anime and manga while I couldn't care less. I am not planning to ramble about the little details of our relationship, but I think it is important that she is properly introduced.

Less than two weeks ago, I found out that she is living 27km away from Mount Merapi, currently an active explosive volcano waiting to let all hell break loose. My initial conversations with her both contained my increasing concern and a rising curiosity for the once-in-a-lifetime chance to witness a natural disaster (for Malaysians of course). I warned her of the possible things to happen, how she should prepare for it and the great magical things that Mother Nature has been storing beneath this dangerous mountain. In return, we chatted about our old days and catch up about a fiction we have been working on since we were 14 years old.

It made me miss her dearly. I stayed up till 3a.m. to chat with her and I was always looking up for updates about Mount Merapi. Most of the time, I was contented with the fact that she is online. The volcano was taking its time and there was no huge concern.

But that changed a few hours ago. I noticed how she had stayed up all night updating her status on Facebook, and how she waited for me to be online. When we were both finally available, she frantically told me how the volcanic rainfall is heading their way, how she couldn't sleep listening to the roaring explosions from the mountain. On one hand, she was finally glad that her university is closed because of the foreboding natural disaster. But the news update that we didn't discussed about scared me: In that one night, the amount of casualties increased by almost 100%. (From around 30-ish to 79 deaths, to be exact).

And then, the inevitable came. She told me "We're ordered to be evacuated. Brb" And that was all. I was happy for her, we have been waiting long for some sort of safety measure to be implanted for the students there. But I haven't fully taken her situation into reality. After a few minutes of absorbing what she had said, I had a formidable thought ran across my head: "What if that was the last..."

I shook it out of my head. I'm shaking it out of my head. It is impossible that it could be a reality, but yet it can be at the same time. My heart goes out to all those who have lost lives, but more importantly, I pray with everything in me that everyone can be safe.

Please stay safe, my dear best friend. I need you.

Success Dresses in Many Disguises

What is success? I have written about this topic before in my writing class - describing the levels of expectations from different people about how I should do things in life.. to become successful.

My dad wants me to become successful by always moving forward and up in the career ladder. He sees the abundant potential in me: I am young, I am majoring in a degree that can revolutionize the world, I am a determined person (or so he says). When we talk, he informs me of a new study or a renowned overseas company that can take me a step further in my area. I appreciate the thought, but is that really what I want?

My mum has the same vision as my dad, but in a different approach. She wants me to acquire the prestige of being successful in a career. When we talk, she persistently encourages me to take on a Master's Degree, then a Ph.D, and later work in a private company - because that's where I can get the most financial security/benefits.

I feel that my mum hangs on to this pride I used to always shower her with when I was younger. In school, I used to be the president of something, a secretary of another and I compete in school competitions every other month. I was the editor-in-chief, I entered the debate and the list goes on. I used to think that I'll looked back and be awfully proud of all the experience I got in school - but that didn't really happen. I was only looking for other people to label me as successful (in school! - weird). I know, I was an odd child.

It took me a 20 hour ride in an airplane halfway across the globe to really grasp that I hadn't a clue to what my own definition of success is. I came to Davis not really knowing what I want from it. Even today, I still feel like I'm dipping my toes in the ocean and contemplating ways to get across.

But in the essay for my writing class, I kind-of discovered what success really means to me. I will be successful when I have achieved happiness with myself and my family. Growing up, I always feel distant to my own thoughts and opinions because I was too busy trying to make peace with the conflicts that consistently arises in my family. I'm pretty sure every family has their own set of problems; but mine rips apart the relationship within family members - father, brother, sister, step-family. Until now, my desire has always been to be able to build and maintain a happy and comfortable family. Something that is filled with laughter, and carefree memories.

So maybe it's not a high-paying job, or a great title in front of my name. But when I have achieved that level of happiness, I will feel like I have accomplished something in life. My only worry is that not many will understand how gratifying it will mean to me.

Will my parents be pleased?

What is Love, Truly?

A year ago, I found out what I feel is the meaning of true love. I wrote the entire scene in a secret post hidden among my other useless documents, because I was scared if I was going to jinx this revelation. I think it's time that I embrace the truth and share it with those who care to read on.

I beg that no one mocks me in private or public about this post, because I am not good about being vulnerable to feelings. But here it goes:

*********************************************************************************

Written on Sept 25th, 2009:

A week ago, I was taught the lesson of true love.

It came unexpected - a spontaneous and in the moment kind of fortunate experience that I was lucky to witness, for it taught me what pure love is more than what I have tried to understand in my 20 years of living.

True love is the trickle of heartfelt laughter; it is the singing pitches of endearment; it is the caresses of one’s soothing words and it is the engaging voice satiated with affection and care. True love is longed by many, including me, but even more rare, is the person having it inside his own heart. I might have never gotten to meet even one person with such an envious quality, if it were not for Kadir.

A week ago, he made phone calls to his family because it was Eid. He rarely talks to them, and I could understand the feelings of affection, and I had expected to hear happy voices on both sides of the receiver. What I did not fathom was the genuine warmth that emitted through their voices – the simple acceptance of being part of a family. The simplicity of loving someone because he or she is family is so strange to me but so well-endowed in Kadir that I wept silently behind the chair he was sitting on.

Kadir spoke to his sister-in-law as if they were distant siblings eagerly catching up on each other’s lives. He spoke to the niece he never met with the loving tone of a protective brother – a cautionary strictness that is webbed with endless affection. He spoke to his brother like they were lifetime friends – no awkwardness despite the long time separation: a bond that is unbreakable. Meanwhile, Kadir’s conversation with his father was constantly filled with much advice – ironically enough, not from the dad, but from the concerned son. It was very endearing to know that his dad accepted Kadir’s heartfelt words of counsel with open arms and much humility. In all honesty, I did not know it was possible for a grown man to feel that way. However, it was when Kadir spoke to his mum that broke my dam of tears.

I don’t remember if they spoke more than 3 minutes, or even if more than 3 sentences were exchanged from each person. I do though; have a vivid memory of the voice he used to speak with her: he was gentle, kind, with an unceasing level of sincerity. The overused phrases of “Selamat Hari Raya” and “Maaf zahir dan batin” were suddenly not a cliché. There was a genuine tenderness in his cracked voice, in which both his mum and I became helpless to say anything else. I was moved to tears by his poignant tone, and I’m sure that his mum did too – as she kept silent for a moment or two before forcing the lump in her throat down to feebly wish him back without crying over the phone.

God, how I do remember that day, and the voices, and the candid display of earnestness. I have never seen such a warm-hearted openness of caring for one another. It became something I worship, and fear. What if I could never reach that level?

Regardless of what may become of my cold, cold heart, I learned something that day I was sitting at the back of Kadir’s chair: that the most genuine true love is one that simply accepts, with no conditions. I always thought that unconditional love was exclusively for mothers and their offspring, but Kadir showed how he could simply love with no questions asked.

**********************************************************************************

Maybe this is a concept that is embedded in you readers, but it is certainly something new and foreign to me. Even after a year, I am still struggling with the openness to accept someone full and whole, a characteristic that I never really felt within my own family (I'm sorry to say). I hope that this post will open people to love more and in a more accepting way. As a person who feels judged in most of my life, I will like to be able to forgive and love better - that's my resolution for this year's Ramadhan!

p/s All this love talk makes me feel like John Lennon when he tried to spread the word of peace and love. =)

The Wrath of A Gossip

She told me what They said about me. Well, not really. She told me that They were talking behind my back, saying bad things about me.

I told her, it is to be expected. Maybe partially it is my fault too. I told her I don't want to hear specifics; I already know what the topics are on. And I can guess (pretty accurately) what They are saying.

If I'm being the bigger adult by not wanting to know the gossip, or even say anything rude back about Them - why does it hurt so much? It's been three days since I knew of this and I can't stop feeling angry.

I just feel SO mad. I just want to shut Them out of my lives forever. Over what? What I heard from someone. I don't want to call this gossip, because gossips are rumors. The fact that They are saying things about me is true. I know it's true. It is in their nature.

But what right do I have to be angry? Even if I were to confront them, what sort of foundation would my evidence be? "Well, I heard from so-and-so that you said..."

They would laugh and mock me. I will be asking for it. So now, my only solution is to forgive. You'd think with all this fasting during Ramadhan it'll be easier, but no, my prayers to God for a forgiving heart is not yet answered. I am only hoping that I don't lash out on any innocent victims.

Actually, writing it out helps a bit. My only wish is to have lived in bliss, and didn't hear those words uttered from her mouth. But what can I do, as the movie 'Inception' insists, and idea planted in one's head can never be taken back.

Summer Things-To-Do: Love and Relationships

Finally, my summer has come. It has been the longest wait, and only today do I feel like the void of summer is fulfilled. Satisfied.

Today is officially my first day of summer.

Why? Because it feels like a real summer's day: full of warmth, simple happiness and productivity. Yes, productivity. My summer has been delayed because I spend last week on lazy-ing around and doing absolutely nothing. It was horrendous.

But today is also my first official summer's day because I spend doing things I absolutely love. I hung out with friends, I went on a date, and I had so many enjoyable conversations. I feel so energized and motivated. I feel famished. My summer's day is here, and it has made me so giddy I am writing this corny blogpost.

To make matters even better, my cat Paul has decided to paw on my tummy and cuddle on top of me. How adorable is that?

Of Bullies and Meanies

It hurts when people say mean things. For me especially, it hurts when people say mean things about me or about other people. I have this innate emphatic nature that I guess is nice, but kind of annoying.

I wish I can stop the passing of mean and hurtful things. And I wish I know what to do when I am the one which vicious words are being directed to. I'm so eager on getting along with people that I don't say anything back.

There was an incident almost 10 years ago when my stepsister and I were hit by a motorcycle. As the drama unrolled, she claimed that I was the one who pulled her back - which is why both of us got hit, instead of me alone. If I hadn't done that, she could have crossed safely, supposedly. I guess then everyone assumed I was the dysfunctional one. The truth is, I can't remember what had happened. All I remember was us crossing, then I saw the motorcycle coming, I shouted at my stepsister, then I got hit and rolled on the ground.

When my brother heard my story, he was furious: 'Why didn't you tell everyone that? Why did you let Syira make you look bad?'

In all honesty, it is because I can't remember whether I did pull her back or not. At that moment, my heart was racing, my mind was blank - I could have died if the motorcycle did not swerved away, just because I was petrified.

Was I really supposed to say something? Both of us survived, and no one punished me or look at me differently. It was just words. However, I did changed and become defensive ever since then. Any single wrong thing uttered to my face, and I would rebut back. Which makes me seem annoying.

When people say mean things about you, what are you supposed to do? I guess it depends on the significance of the offense. Most of the time, I ignore and looked away. I let the scars wound and I avoid the person who said it until I was okay with him/her.

What if it was public though? In movies, it seems cool to take a bow and let the jerk look like a fool - but in real life, you have an audience that publicly laughs with the jerk but no one sees the hurt.

Which brings me to another pondering question: Is it okay, is it actually good and preferable to mock something factual about your friend? Like poking the person and saying "OMG, you're fat!" I always thought that in these situations people would usually come to the defense of the victim, but so many times do I witness the audience laughing along and encouraging the mean, spineless bastard.

Why?

Why?

Why do people not care or empathize? Is this fun?

It is a real wonder how bullies just never get old. Among adults, the bullies are even more senseless.

Being Fake

A friend of mine recently told me that I can be fake. On hindsight, that sounds like an awful thing to be. But maybe, the reason that I (and many other people) are being fake are for the benefit of other people.

Have you ever felt furious or so down, but at totally the wrong time? Like when you're at a party celebrating a happy occasion with your friends or something similar that doesn't really allow you to bawl out tears or punch the wall with a hard-hitting fist. What can you do?

1. Go out, and solve that problem. But what if you problem involves a member of the party? Do you start a cat fight right there and then or punch the person's face? Neither is an option for me.

2. Bathroom, to cool down. But you can't really stay in there until the coast is clear, can you? That might mean you have to wait till the party is finished.

3. Suck it up (Being fake). Which means having to ignore the wrath of emotional waves inside of you, put on a smile and try to go along with the party. It won't last long, and usually when it ends, your head cools down to the real reason for your anger or sorrow, and you are more likely to solve the problem without the influence of other little reasons that might make you so mad.

Imagine if I didn't try to hide my emotions: I might just ruin the mood of the party (not to say that I haven't done that before). What if my little frustration was just that: little and insignificant - but it was just hormones that amplified it?

Nevertheless, I guess that's not the only place you can be fake. I guess I can be fake when I talked to people I've met, can't remember and not really in the mood to be talking - but I do anyway. That's really faking it, I guess. But simply ignoring is simply more vicious: the person might feel like he/she had done something to make you turn your nose up when you see him.

Which is a characteristic I feel I see in people who think they are not fake: simply vicious.

The world revolves around how they think and feel at the moment. Maybe they take pride in being honest to themselves, and maybe even the fact that their actions compelled people around them to feel bad. I've met a few vicious people, lived with them and decided that maybe being fake is better. At least I don't give people around me the wrong impression, and there are less people I hurt.

Not that I've never been vicious. There have been those times, and those unknowing victims. But I really am trying to be fake (opposed to vicious) when the clouds turn gray in my life.

Maybe, just maybe, being fake is not such an awful thing.

Sometimes

Sometimes I wonder
If you regret the words you've spoken to me
In the limited time that we get to converse.
Because I do
I regret saying the hurtful things I said
or the lines of defense I put up
against what you have said.

No matter how hard I tried
The times I tell myself to be nicer
or to be more patient
I find myself lashing throats with you
Because of the accusations that you put on me
Or the things you blame I didn't do
Or just in the hopes of calming you -
Hurtful words just arise
And my tears fell
And my healing heart scars again
The cut twice as deep
The mind swirling with a headache:
Why are we on this roller coaster ride, again?

Sometimes I wonder,
something I am almost sure of
but yet scared to say out loud,
sometimes I do wonder
If you enjoy starting these stupid fights
If you're pleased with the screech in my voice rebelling against you
If you're glad that I am showing anger
even when it is inflicted to you.

Because you know what irritates me,
You, of all people would know,
that what you're saying is wounding my heart.
How can you
When all I've ever done in my entire life
is to keep you happy
Your happiness has always been the key goal in my life

So why are you jeopardizing mine?

Learning

The best way to learn in life is to let of your inhibitions and brace yourself for the ride of accepting new knowledge.

Sometimes it is easy, like when you're learning math and you stopped thinking about what the guy next to you is whispering about, but sometimes it is just really, really hard. Like forgetting about the thundering storm of frustration locked in your heart so that the relationship that you built so well can remain strong. Or to forget the searing words that cut deeper and deeper into your emotions. Sometimes it is just going along a monotonous journey, when anything you want to do is stop and turn back.

Just like I am wanting to do now. I just do not want to be in an empty room, trying to study. That is like the two most boring things combined together. It is a recipe for "let-me-go-watch-that-Tudors-episode-on-Netflix" and much much procrastination.

And it is also learning to bear the silence from the emptiness. And learn to appreciate silent beings. And learn the tragedy of their loss.

Conversations I'll Never Have

Alright, so maybe 'never' is a bit too harsh.

One of my biggest obstacles in within my family itself: my parents' divorce and post-drama that has continued relentless-ly for almost 20 years has made me distance myself from communicating openly with my family members. The number one reason why there is so much drama is that there is so much misunderstanding in our communication from one side to the other, or that they just won't budge to try and understand.

Hence, the reason why I find it so hard to open up to my own family. My little story would be passed on in different little twisted forms of perception and different judgments - which will result in some sort of negative, unfavorable things-that-I-have-said.

Enough with the negativity.

The point of me writing this is not to place blame (though I sort of did), but to actually admit that I am feeling regretful of the things I have not said. Because I did not open myself up, I missed out on them learning who I am, what I am like, what I like and what I don't. Maybe they know a few things (after all, we are family) but I lack this 'I-miss-my-family-bond', the 'I-am-homesick-feeling', the sisters moments, the sister-brother moments, the little things that makes a family.. family.

I wish I can be openly loving, publicly warm with my family. I wish I don't feel obligated or constrained when I call my sister. I wish I don't put a guard up when I talk to my dad. I wish I don't agree with everything my mum has to say to avoid arguing with her. I wish I can be there for my brother's wedding. I really feel sorry that I'm going to miss it, and worse, my heart is too cowardly to say it to him in a vulnerable sisterly-brother scenario.

Why am I such a coward, one might wonder? Because they talk. I feel like my every movement and word is scrutinized and I can't let my feelings out like that if I know someone will throw a tomato at those fragile emotions. I just can't.

But how I wish, I deeply honestly wish, I could.

Missed Weddings and such

My first brother got married last December the weekend before my finals week. His wedding was 20 hours away by flight. I couldn't make it, obviously. I had officially missed my first sibling's day of marriage. So I was kind of sad, but it's okay. Everyone understood. After a few days, even I didn't care so much.

But just this weekend, my second brother got engaged. There was a huge family gathering, everyone was celebrating - giving best wishes, celebrating the moment and to the better future. I get that little itch in my heart that tear a little. I wasn't there because I'm here again. It's a little sad, since I know I won't be home for the wedding too. I guess that's okay too, because everyone understood the circumstances.

But there is one circumstance I don't get. The fact that in the midst of all these happiness, there is a side that is painfully grieving: my mum.

Is it that she is sad to leave her children whose responsibilities would be towards someone else - people she calls 'strangers'? Is it that she does not want to associate herself with new people, only the people she thinks she can count on: her children? Or is it that she is disappointed with her children because of our wrongdoings towards her?

The drama ensues again with the same topic, the same heartbreak, the same cause, the same reason, the same people. When will we ever learn? Why is it that in my family, history repeats itself? Maybe it is I who only feels that way. I am a coward at facing the drama. For me, it is nothing more than jumping into a battle of sharp tongues slaying each others self-esteem to its pieces. The winning side gets an ego boost with all its scars, and learns to be more bitter towards the inferior. The losing side will tragically experience grief in a silent heartbreak: the shattered confidence is ignorantly left to the side to be forgotten - its pieces don't get a chance to anew itself.

This is how weddings, engagements, birthdays and happy celebrations end in my family. Congratulations to both my brothers. May your new relationships bring you more peace and rationality to the reality of the world, than paying attention to the stupid things "he said, she said".

Procrastination

As I was about to start doing another post for today, I realized that it's no longer well.. 'today'. Technically, 1am means a new day right?

Anyways, this made me realize that although I can spent 10 minutes per day doing this, I have to arrange time to do this, and not just as something that I can do before sleeping. Part of this project is being consistent about making time to write, ad not just squeezing out brain juices.

It's all about being consistent everyday, and paying attention when I don't really want to. Like right now, my brain is saying 'sleep sleep sleep' but instead, I'm trying to just keep on writing. Hopefully, my posts gets more interesting after a few more practices with overcoming these distracting obstacles, like the busy-ness of life.

Anyways, I'm really trying to be consistent because of my lack of focus when I play volleyball. According to my friend-and-coach, I am not consistent. Like I can be really good and really horrible - and unpredictability is not a favorable skill. So here's why I'm doing this blog, to learn to be able to concentrate for ten minutes straight on something despite any other distractions of life.

One more day down, yay!

First Day

Hellooo World!

Creating this blog, I am trying to attempt to write a post everyday. It is part of the 'how-to-learn-to-be-a-good-writer' training that I should have started a loong time ago.

Okay, so here's how it works. I must write something, anything for at least ten minutes every single day to train my brain to write spontaneously and creatively as possible. In ten rushed minutes, my rambling thoughts hopefully can transpire into some interesting ideas or highlights of my day(s).

Also, this is a new leaf that I am trying out: to be more consistent in anything I do. As a friend of mine pointed out, I am not very good at being consistent in doing something. I suspect it's a case of ADD, but ahh, hopefully this can cure my little problem.

So here's a big warm welcome to my creative brain juices that is highly low on glucose right now thanks to someone forgetting to cook rice, but anyhow, a big warm welcome nonetheless. Here's to a new, interesting and open-eyed-blog posts and many more to come.

Cheers!