I Want To Live Alone, Could I?

It's hard to live together, that I know.
I was blessed with a pretty much simplistic combination of dorm mates or room mates .

In SIS the hostels were big dorms, where in a dorm there was about 30-40 students sharing twin beds. It was vibrant, lively, happening. Complete lack of privacy, but hey, we were all in the situation together. After all, those times were precious. I still remember clearly that one of my best moments in life so far were the weekend nights where we little kids ( young teenagers) slept reasonably late and we spent the whole time laughing and talking about some silly stuffs- teachers, little bits and pieces about our seniors, gossips. Those were great times- and I wouldn't mind trading all of my life right now to relive again those innocent moments, where I was still young, skinny and carefree, Budin was still chubby, Kemey are as loud as ever, Megat always been made fun of, in a good way. Then they are countless others. Some dorm mates I knew during my childhood years, some I become their enemies, some I have love-hate relationships with.  

Those guys are one of my earliest friends. I don't really have that close a friend during my childhood. I rarely go outside. I used to just watch TV in the evenings and since my house was quite far from my friends' houses, I didn't get to play often. So, meeting Budin, Kemey, Megat, Syafiq was a blessing for me. I know I messed up a lot in life, but them,  Megat, especially knows my good sides and bad sides, and in them I retain my belief in everything that would matter.

In MRSM Muadzam Shah I live in a four-bed room with two other guys. Akmal , one of them, is a very nice guy. He's tall and looks very scary, but he's actually is a very friendly and I have to add, a very intelligent guy. Last time I checked, now he's in UK studying medicine. The other guy's doing accountancy now.Me? TESOL. Wow. Nobody would expect that.

In MRSM Taiping, super great. My F4 year I had a cube mate.A cube is like a portion of a dorm when two beds are grouped together by partitions. Then the next year he transferred back to his old school. He didn't fancy boarding life, it seems. Big deal. He went to VI and that's the last thing I heard about him. I have to confess that I didn't even bother. All that he ever did were whining on how stressful MRSM life is- as if I couldn't know it myself. Therefore, my Form Five year is a 'loner' year. No cube mate. Alone. But hey, the cube doesn't have any door anyway. It's still practically a big dorm. I didn't really hang out with my old cube mate anyway all those times, I was not cool enough to be with his clique.

KMS was fine. Faizi and Hariz are cool. They might have hated me for my quirky and annoying attitude, but so far they haven't expressed it to me. I won't be surprised actually. In my senior year, Juju was amazing. It was nothing special, though. But it was fun, in many ways.

Living alone was a new thing here in Auckland- and I like it. No drama, which is a downside- but hey, life's not perfect if it's all perfect.

I have to admit , I'm not so sure about living together next year. A voice in my mind keeps telling me to be brave and just go on living alone. Less hassle. Less trouble. Living in orchard here with these people show me that I have so many problems . I lack commitment, I'm pretty much selfish, and I really need my space. I'm so used to lock myself up whenever I feel uneasy or depressed these days but it's almost impossible back here at the orchard. 12 guys crammed into one house. Sharing a pillow with Faizi. Eating and cooking together. Trying not be rude. Don't get angry unnecessarily. Unnecessarily hard.

Weird, this is exactly how Juju wrote in his blog last year, haha, the thing about living alone, LOL.

This is now my turn indeed, haha. 

Kerja.

Merry Christmas to my Christian friends. Happy Boxing day to the others. Reload your Eftpos, bring out your credit card, practice your card swiping moves, we gonna shopping hard!

Hohoho.

I'm currently at Dunedin.Been working quite hard these days at the orchard. Apple tree thinning and cherry picking.

Life's been great. I miss Auckland, still. Well, all you would do for experience. Central Otago is beautiful! I wake up everyday to such splendid scenery.Beautiful mountains, blue skies, lush, green trees. And it's just 2 hours from Queenstown~

I'm all bruised and "tanned" from all this job- but hey, I got paid for them, so no big deal. I hope you guys are having an awesome holiday as well.

Till then, I need my sleep. Been working from 6.30 am to 4.30 pm everyday here, huhu. Bye.

Regards,

WanKhai.

Sent from my iPod

Baitul Muslim

To me, baitul muslim is beyond a marriage between a man and a woman. An important feature, yes, but not necessarily the only one.

From my own personal understanding, it is beyond two muslim individuals who are in progress towards the way of Allah; establishing a sacred covenant between them and the God, having families that strive to fulfill the path to the Heavenly Kingdom that is nigh. It is also more than a mere declaration of "thy kingdom come, thy will be done" from this religious contract made between this man and this woman.

We have to understand that a marriage is not a simple act of establishing connections between a man and a woman- in the words of our prophet, it is joining two big families- the bride's family and the groom's family.

As a man myself, I understand the need for marriage. After all, we were only young once. And we have urges. I also realise the almost natural inclinations of a human to desire for offsprings- the ones that will take your name, lead their life, have families themselves. I also realise the desire for a human to have a companion that he/she can share all his/her thoughts on, who can share all his/her fears, hopes,passion- something that only a loving wife or husband could provide. Friends come and go, but a loving, honest husband or wife, though a rarity these days, once we get a hold on them, your life could be so much fuller.

As an eldest brother, I always have this panicky dreams about my siblings. It is as if they are preparing myself for worst case scenarios.Sometimes I have a nightmare about how my sisters have married terrible, cheating guys and have a messy divorce. Having no shelter and no jobs, they have to resort to me, since I'm the eldest brother, especially if my parents are long gone- which will definitely happen to us humankind. Then I dreamt on how intolerant my wife is ( dreams are such a tease- why can't they make me remember my wife's FACE?) towards me helping my siblings.

Sometimes I wonder how much paranoid I can be indeed.

But the moral of the dreams I would say is that how important it is for my future wife to accept the fact that my family might be so dysfunctional to her eyes or her families'- yet she can embrace them altogether indiscriminately .

Sometimes love is not enough. Given enough frustration, walla, divorce. I've known quite a few people who love deeply for each other yet could no longer live with each other due to some external and internal reasons. 

I think a true baitul muslim fulfils those criteria. It is not some romantic notion of family and marriage. Love is not everything. Trust, responsibility, family bonding, religious importance, spiritual preparation and fulfilment- all contribute to this wonderful world of Islamic marriage- something that in history our Prophet had shown remarkably well , especially with his wife, Khadijah and the later wives.

So, to those who read this, no worries, I am not going to encourage you guys to get married, sometimes we can begin it with many hypothetical questions " I have a brother who is going to get married, what should I do?", " I have a friend who have desires to get married, what should I do?" , " I want to get married, what should I do?".

Then think this , " do you want to marry your own self, the one with your current state of discipline, routine, faith? What should you do?"

Salam.

p/s: On the other hand, I urge my Auckland friends to get married and have their walimah in Auckland. I can therefore have my free nasi minyak for lunch on that particular day. * wink wink*

Dunedin.

I am currently in Dunedin, visiting friends, seeking out any jobs for this summer.
If I'm lucky , I get one. If not, God bless.
I might apply to be drug trial tester, even, if needs arises- if I fail to get any fruit picking job I wanted to. Haha.  4000 NZD for a three night stay and blood sample taken every hour, along with the possibility of brain injury, side effect to sperm, and the inability to have sex for three years- nah, sounds good enough. Huhu.

Yesterday, we walked around Dunedin. Me, Naim and his friend Azwan.

Beautiful place, this city. Peaceful. Much like Ipoh. Sleepy town, I mean- not about the food, I would say. This Malaysian side of me craves for roti canai for almost a year already. Gosh.

I might not be able to online frequently these days- I'm currently staying over at a friend's house, and looking at how expensive NZ internet is, I don't have the heart to stay online long. Even I ban myself from YouTube at the time being  . Wuuwuuu...

Please pray that I get a job , okay. Enjoy the holiday, y'alls~

Death Be Not Proud

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

by John Donne

Individualism

We value our privacy very much. I used to regard my religion as a very personal matter, even. However, just recently, I found it as hardly personal.

These days, we are used to individual rights- thanks to the advent of civil rights movement. Thus, sometimes we forget that Islam is a highly communal religion- not a personal religion like any others. Islam is after all, by nature, an evangelistic religion.

The strength of us Muslims is our faith and spirit of brotherhood. Even in solat, this very personal act of worshipping God, it is still more preferable to offer salah in jamaah.

In fact, God said to us that we should save ourselves AND our own family from the fired of jahannam. God asks us to do amr ma'ruf nahy munkar, but also differentiate between tajassus( spying) and being caring. Islam also stress a lot on charity and performing good deeds to people around us.

Such is why I need to change my mindset. As much as I value my privacy, I must allow myself to fulfill my role as Muslim who are mindful of my friends, aware of what is happening in this world and together, strive to the ways of Allah taala.

There are times for myself and there are times for other things as well.

Out Out, Baby Out .

Moving out of Huia today. Another phase of my life ended.

Tempus fugit.

Faith

Every day that I lay on my bed, waiting for my eyes to close, I always ask myself , " what's in for tomorrow but misery?"
Failures and disappointments, weariness and disgust, regret and mistakes are the common themes of life, with short happiness and shallow relationships in between.

" So why do you want to continue living? "
I don't, my love. I always wish that I won't wake up from this sleep. Just let me sleep. I don't want to face the world. I don't want to see the people. I don't want to see myself. Let me dream. Let me dream forever.

"But you wake up everyday- and you continue living."

Because I am afraid of death, my love.

Yes.

Because I am afraid of death.






...

.....

He smiled.

Fatalism

Life strikes you hard. It doesn't favor you. You feel worthless.You think that God hates you- which in my case, I think He is. But why so sad, dear heart?Because God hates you?People may tell you that thus seek thee forgiveness, repentance and live the way of our Lord- for His Kingdom is nigh. I'd say, never mind. Thanks for the advice, though. I'll never blame any kind of existence for my misery- aside from my own existential being. Such action to me is a mere justification of your own helplessness and your failure to do something about it.

I actually admire people who hold faith in God whenever they are in trouble. In fact, I respect them so much- a respect of a man who fails to replicate the same thing for himself. But, I feel sad to people who make God as an excuse. A fatalistic view of life I don't mind, but a fatalistic view of God is absurd. Existence of God is ridiculously complex enough to be subjugated to fatalism- as if life isn't a misery already.

Without God, human is nothing. That is what I have been taught- and for fear of unintended apostasy, I don't want to comment more on this matter.

Bye.

Before It's Too Late.

I need to take a better care of myself.

Almost three weeks after the holiday started, I found myself in complete mess.

Shaving? Nah.

Cooking? What is that?

Laundry every 10 days ? Huh?

Vacuum cleaning once a week? Forget about it.

Jogging on Monday every week ? Glee.

Walking around Domain for some fresh air every Friday? The Nanny.

With this kind of attitude and the amount of food I've been eating daily, I would say that in 2 years, I would definitely qualify for the Biggest Loser.

Of Marriage

People say there is no difference between COMPLETE & FINISHED. But there is a difference. When you marry the right one you are COMPLETE. When you marry the wrong one you are FINISHED!

Self-centredness

I do things ,my ways.

It's kind of complicated, you see.  I wouldn't say I am nerdy and uptight , sometimes I did, but I am rather merely, tiny-winy bureaucratic in nature at some matters. It's very unhealthy , of course. Who wants to be living in a world of red tapes, full of rules and regulations?

But when things didn't go my way, people hardly find me accommodating; for example,  I fought ( ah, just being rude, basically, not some fist fight) with then vice-principal of my school who thinks that since he is a bloody teacher he can practically do anything. I didn't really spare a thought or mind to whom I'm speaking with when discussing a lot of things, even when the comments were close to blasphemy. I broke school rules quite a many times, but they weren't anything dramatic such as slapping a teacher or burning the school - though I had in those years instances when I think my hand was burning hot and some teachers' skin ( especially their faces) looked like a punching bag.

But I think it's normal. I have the idea that some teachers ( and friends, probably) might have the same feelings towards my skin as well. Okay, that's a problem- because I would be a future teacher, and there is such a thing called karma! *gasp*

But there you see, I hardly know myself. At first even I thought myself as "skema"- in fact, I was a pretty nice kid back then in the primary school- minus all those moments of bullying and been made fun of, I managed to stay out of trouble quite remarkably.

Secondary school is when everything changes. I'd say those were the times I discover various potentials of myself. Then I also realise that my opinions don't actually matter- it's just for the sake of conversation that they are agreeing or disagreeing with what I said. I'd say, tough. Me too, I finally realised. I don't actually care ( I care, sometimes, but let's just leave it at that) what people are suggesting because in the end, I always believe in myself first. And so do theirs.

People have motives. So am I. Still,  the art of convincing people should be left for politicians or rhetoricians alone because apparently, human society is never as pessimistic as it was ever before. I blame post-modernism for that. Haha. 

Nevertheless, nevertheless, sure, I know that the world doesn't revolve around me. That I always know. I know how insignificant I am to the world, to the society, to the people I know . But my life is all I got, and so I will decide how I will lead my life. Most of the times I simply follow the rules and the norms, but at times, please don't feel offended if I don't do things how people expect me to be - I just didn't.

Maybe at times I am enforcing my opinion upon others , and so you can speak all you want, because at that time, I am sure that I forgot  and need some reminding of the Golden Rule : why should  I care about others?

Ballad of Reading Gaol.

A few stanzas from one of Oscar Wilde's finest poems : The Ballad of Reading Gaol. I started re-reading Oscar Wilde again these days. Best read in times of depression because it makes you less depressed since there are other people more depressed than you are, apparently.

Dear Christ! the very prison walls
  Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
  Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
  My pain I could not feel.

I only knew what hunted thought
  Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
  With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
  And so he had to die.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
  By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
  Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
  The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
  And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
  Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
  The dead so soon grow cold.

Carl Jung.

Sometimes I wish that my life is a mere fantasy, a fabrication, a farce- perhaps just another bad dream of kings or queens from the ages past. When I return to reality, however, I then have to desperately console myself : " well, at least it isn't a nightmare."

Humanity.

The best poem that describes my belief. I'm so happy to discover the works of Cummings. Brilliant, so brilliant.

Humanity i love you by E. E. Cummings

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you're hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you're flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shops and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

Selamat Hari Raya Aidiladha.

Poem by Naser Khoswrow, as quoted in Ali Shariati's monumental work, Hajj.

The pilgrims returned with reverence. They were thankful to the Merciful God. 

On their way to Mecca from Arafat, They repeatedly said "Labbaika" with great respect. 

While tired of experiencing the hardships of the desert of They rejoiced that they are saved from the torture and the fire. 

They have performed the Hajj and completed the Umra. Now, they safely return to their homelands. 

I took time to go and welcome them back, Although men of my class did not normally do this. But among the crowd of this caravan, I had a dear and very sincere friend. 

I asked him how he accomplished? This very difficult and fearful trip! 

I informed him that since he had departed and left me alone All I could feel was regretfulness and sadness. 

Now, I am happy that you performed the Hajj, And you are the only Hajj in our homeland. 

Now, tell me, how was your performance? How did you respect that holy territory? 

When you were about to remove your clothes and wear the Ihram What was your "intention" during those exciting moments? 

Did you absolutely avoid all the things that must be avoided And whatever is inferior to Almighty Allah? 

He replied NO! 

I asked him: If he said "labbaika" With full knowledge and great respect? If he heard the command of Allah? Or, if he obeyed as Ibrahim did? 

He replied NO! 

I asked him: While he was in Arafat, While he stood so close to Almighty God, Did he have a chance to know Him? Was he not eager to learn a bit of the knowledge? 

He replied NO! 

I asked him: When he entered the Kaaba As the family of "Kahf and Raquim" had done, Did he deny his self-centeredness? Did he fear the punishment of the hereafter? 

He replied NO! 

I asked him: When he shot the idols, Did he think of them as evil? Did he then avoid wrong deeds? 

He replied NO! 

I asked him: When he offered the sacrifice, To feed a hungry person or an orphan, Did he first think of Allah? And, did he then kill his selfishness? 

He replied NO! 

I asked him: When he stood in Ibrahim's position, Did he rely absolutely on God? Sincerely and with strong faith? 

He said NO! 

I asked him: While he circumambulated, When he made the Tawaf of Kaaba, Was he reminded of all the angels, Who constantly circumambulate this world? 

He said No! 

I asked him: During his Sa'y, While he was running between Safa and Marwa. Was he sanctified and purified? 

He said NO! 

I asked him: Now that he had returned from Mecca, And felt home-sick for the Kaaba Did he bury his "self" there? Was he impatient to go back? 

He said NO! 

"Of whatever you have asked me so far, I have understood nothing!!!" 

I said: Oh friend, you have not performed the Hajj! And, you have not obeyed God! 

You went to Mecca and visited the Kaaba! You spent your money to buy the hardships of the desert! 

If you do decide to go to Hajj again, Try to perform it as I have instructed you! 

Death by Chocolate.

Giapo's Chocolate Day was awesome!

Organic Dark Chocolate.

Chocolate Fantasy.

Black and White.

Chocolate and Peanuts.

Chocolate Caramel.

Chocolate Brownie.

Giapo Rocher.

Chocolate Tim-Tam.

Chocolate Toblerone.

Chocolate and Orange.

White Chocolate and Strawberry.

Chocolate Milk.

Choc Cookie.

White Chocolate.

Chocolate Raspberry.

Chocolate Hazelnut. 

and a few other names that escaped my mind.

I feel so happy yesterday. Sugar high, perhaps. Haha. But it really was awesome. I was in chocolate heaven. 

Democracy

Majority rule will only work if you're considering individual rights. You can't have five wolves and one sheep vote on what they want to have for supper - Larry Flynt. 

Criticism.

I'm disappointed with Malaysia.

Many times I tell myself, things get better. It gets better. Then we see unethical government practices, then we see chaotic opposition parties. Then we have misuse of Islam as a way to garner strong Malay votes. Then we have Deepavali advertisement deeply offensive to the Hindus.Then, I almost wept when I heard the news that the government move away from investigating teaching malpractice of canning students for bringing non-halal food to a school to just focus on the religious status of the student's dad. As I mentioned in Facebook, " the respective teacher must be laughing to orgasm now". 

You see, ALL people said that you can't judge Islam by its Muslims. True. If that were the case, so fine. I won't look at anyone, any Muslims. Instead, I'll just create my own understanding of Islam. Is that so? Wrong. Ridiculous understanding there.  Still, Islamic practices are deeply rooted in the practices of the people- the right people, that is. But unfortunately, if JAKIM is not the right people, who is? Al-Qaeda? Taliban?

Deep inside, I have an internal struggle of my identities as a Muslim, and yet at the same, a humanist, a liberal, and a long time ago, an agnostic.

I believe in freedom of sinning. I believe in Tariq Ramadan's opinion that a Muslim can peacefully convert to any religion he/she wants to with the condition that afterwards he/she doesn't ridicule Islam or propagate their faith to others.

On the other side, I am disturbed by the rising offensive remarks towards God done by any liberals. I don't mind actually arguments regarding the existence of God, but I don't see any reasons to make harsh, demeaning  remarks about other people's God, or their own God- precisely because they are just making a fool out of themselves. Why some people are clearly angry to something so surreal, which to them it may actually never exist in the first place?

Every single social action is political. Silence is one of available social actions. So silence is political. Doing nothing therefore is still a political action.

Yet, should I just be silent? I don't believe in Islamic state or community ideals, nor do I admire the Western societies.

But, this world is not about me. I am a single entity who makes no difference if I were to live or not in this world. Therefore, I don't really mind if in the end, people collectively choose any ideals that they want : democracy, Islamic theocracy, anarchist, every single ideals of a community.

I can just grumble. But, at least, I grumble to something real - people, community, principles. I grumble on my own incompetence, my own helplessness. I grumble for my ridiculous, too idealistic principles.

I don't feel like criticising God, whatever God that is, because in the end, God is just the motivational aspects of it. 

Most of the time, I'm criticising myself.

Who Am I?

 ( My friends and I outside of our hostel,  one of the days after SPM examination ended. wow. 4 years ago )

I hope I do not confuse those who know me, or those who just know me a little bit. You see, my writings are very much reflected at the moment I was writing those articles. I can never represent my whole self in just a short span of space. I am more than that, I am more complex than that, as we all are indeed.

What I wrote is just a figment of my life, of my opinion.

So do the people who I am socialising with. They might see me differently. I love jokes. I am a cynic and as far as critical self-reflection is concerned, I really am somehow egocentric and self-centred; I always have this absurd urge to dominate the conversation or even if it is not possible, I tried to change the topic into what I deemed interesting to me or talk two different, unrelated things continuously without a break ( which had created so much trouble in my Maths class back in KMS) . I did try to change these days- by not talking. = ) Nevertheless, I take the pride that sometimes, I do listen and as miracles happen, I did sometimes respond correctly to people's opinions and I had encouraged a deep, mutually respectful conversation with friends, especially those I hold dear to me.

When I am alone, sometimes I spent the whole day being a simple young adult- watching movies and drama series, surfing about local celebrities and international stars, browsing the websites that have been linked to my Facebook friends, or do some religious reflection on myself. I like this side of me.  At other times, however, I might go to the opposite side- I immerse myself in books I think are important to humanity, I wept over the politics of Malaysia as if I were an idealistic, young politician, or I immersed myself in spiritual, non- religious reflections of myself. Some people call it self-destruction mode, I call it balancing the yin and yang of my mind- connecting the conscious and the subconscious. Unfortunately, most of my blog writings are based on these "self-destructive" moments.

So, this blog post is to those who care about me,and although I think there aren't that many, but there are.

I thank you for all the advices, soft thoughts, encouragements. I don't think I deserve all these since I inflicted all these problems myself anyway, but thanks. Thanks a lot.

I always say that I don't put friendship very highly in my list, and indeed, I am, but I admit that it is also a sweet thing. Friendship is a sweet thing- so fragile, so illusory, but the feelings are real, the honesty is real, the respect is real. I just don't think I deserve too much of this sweetness, knowing who I really am inside.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
    Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
    And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
    Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
        Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
    Imprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
        And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes. 

( John Keats, Ode on Melancholy)

Bigotry.

Secular bigots exist, very much alive and flaming indeed. Just as active as the religious bigots- those people who are eternally bound to hate. Unfortunately they didn't kill each other, which I always hope for.Instead they prey upon non-suspecting citizens and good Samaritans who don't have the gut to say " leave me alone" out and loud.

21.

Today, I spent hours writing a reflection about myself. The hours where I was supposed to be studying educational psychology, I spent them writing about all these failures, mistakes, disappointment that I had all these years of my life . I wrote a 8000+-words of offensive, blasphemous and suicidal essay from my childhood to this point of time , to which I mentally torture myself to remember all those events in my life I want to keep hiding them forever before. All those pains, happiness; the green grass, the blood, the tears- today, it wasn't just a figment of my memories. I made them all afresh again. All as vivid and as real as possible.

All for a promise I made a while ago. A promise need to be fulfilled when I am finally a 21-year-old lad. I planned to retype all these words I've written into this blog, but looking at the number of words, I don't think so. In fact, I am too mentally drained now.

But simply speaking, I want to say that I am disappointed with my life.

I am still a son who fails to understand my parents, who still somehow despise them for all I've faced in my life. The emotional trauma I had. The feelings of sadness I felt.  I still couldn't get rid of these revengeful feeling of being unwanted , being a burden, source of blame. I still couldn't let myself forgive them, even though I know very well that they didn't intend to do so, it was just my own imposed imagination. In fact,  I even understand the situational circumstances that we were living in. The idea of me being a 'perfect son', the idea of me being an example to my siblings, the idea that in the big family of us lower class people- I am among the few who are having the potential to get out of this pathetic social situation we're living in- like my dad had done.

But what did it brings me to? The more 'intelligent' I become, I become more egoistic, more ruthless. I forgot my roots- the community of simple-minded relatives who settle for half and loving every single moment of it- or pretending to. This education of mine makes me question all the things my parents didn't do when I was growing up. All the exposure I had made me realise that my family and I don't function as what a typical, middle-class do. But, we were originally not from a middle-class family! We were borderline lower class people, and we were simply moving up the social ladder.And it does come with much consequences. Suddenly, we found that we have more money that we ever had before;  I was able to have so much of allowance- and I don't know on how to handle them correctly. My mum who previously worked so many jobs at one time, thinks that she can relax more. Now she had time to care for my little siblings.  My dad who used to be such a simple-minded guy is now so ambitious - almost every year he is awarded with a certificate of work excellence for his astounding work. He is now a really committed police officer. Now the family starts to become more stable, more able to have more time together, and my parents learn better parenting styles. They did change, and they change for the better. They moved on.

But I don't. I hate myself for being ancient. I hate myself for not readily accepting the fact that I live when it was a hard life, where my parents are still very young and yet have so many responsibilities , and they were so many trial and errors in raising me. I couldn't accept the fact that I was their experiment. I was the eldest, and they are two young people in love who underestimate the toughness of life. I was a child living in the transition period. When I see my little siblings, I become jealous. I blamed my own existence in my given time line. Suddenly the family starts to become so typical, so normal, that I don't feel belong to them any more.I am still haunted by my childhood, my teenage years.

And I am still not be able to fully understand my friends. I am no longer open for disappointments. I am afraid of trust. It's not the problem of my life. Most of people I  befriended with already know many significant parts of my life, my family- and sometimes I know theirs.It's not an issue. I just don't want them having any hope, any expectations from me - as much as I struggle to doubt everyone around me. Sometimes I feel very guilty when I show myself caring about my friends, when in fact I always have the idea that friendship is disposable. I am disposable. In few years time, I am easily forgotten and them be forgotten. I fortify myself ; before I was forgotten, I should forget people first. I must win the battle. It is unfair to them, some of them I know are very nice. But I will no longer be the one who always lingers in soon-to-be-lost relationships. I am too afraid of losing again. I start to view things around in terms of profit and interest- and it really takes its toll on how I view this life. I am always find it hard to apologise to people. I am always sceptical. 

But most importantly, I am now facing the core crisis of mine : faith.

I was never comfortable to be static in one thing. I always question. I get angry. I blame some higher power. I explore all the possibility. Sometimes I understand the tragic nature of humanity and sins by actually indulging in them. I am many. This middle of the year I had the most blissful period of my life. I indulge in simplicity. I make myself belonging to a part of something bigger. I don't question much. I starts to adapt myself to really honest and truthful friendship based on something very sacred and holy.

But I'm slowly losing my way. Or rather, I start losing myself again, purposely. I can't accept the new me. I struggled in vain to create an equilibrium. My obsession in becoming an Instrument of Evil worsens............

I am too tired. I feel like ending everything last night. I feel it again after I finished writing the essay just now. What a useless twenty one years old, I think.

But then, I realised , I must be so naive back when I was 15 when I made this promise. I really regret this decision. 21 is too short a time to evaluate myself, and to put a halt to my development, to choose. I thought before that at 21, I must have less anger, less damning thoughts, less depression-I should now able to think clearly and make my decision-  but I overestimated myself.

For years I never feel truly happy with my birthday become of this promise I made. In Taiping, I feel really guilty when the whole class organise my birthday- because my birthday is actually a depressing moment every year in my life . In KMS , if I'm not mistaken, in my first year,  I went to Blok Akademik alone at night of my birthday, off my handset. In my second year I went back home to my house in Selayang. It's just too depressing, after all, my birthday shows that I'm ageing fast and yet still clueless and confused about life.

OK enough.

Till then, and ...Selamat hari lahir, wan.

p/s : I had a wonderful dream yesterday night. A garden of blossoming magnolia trees like the ones I saw in Dunedin.

Tennyson.

I am suddenly interested to read Tennyson after listening to this song and watching this music video. Sadly I've had other authors to read first. This song is beautiful, and the lyric is really something dear to my heart.

If I Die Young- Band Perry

If I die young bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
oh oh oh oh

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She'll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
ain't even grey, but she buries her baby

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had just enough time

If I die young bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had just enough time

And I’ll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger
I’ve never known the lovin' of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand
There’s a boy here in town says he’ll love me forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best boots and I’ll wear my pearls
What I never did is done

A penny for my thoughts, oh no I’ll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin’

If I die young bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
oh oh

The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket
Save them for a time when your really gonna need 'em oh

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had just enough time

So put on your best boots and I’ll wear my pearls

Sedih.

I read this, and I feel quite demotivated. Emasculated, even. I fare very badly on those criterion.

Haha. Nah. I don't give much of a thought- just a blog post.

I don't know how to grill a steak, since err, nah , I don't eat steak?

I did iron my shirt.

Nope, I don't know how to change the car tyre. I've learn that, practice that, but so far I haven't seen the reason to really remember all those stuffs. Maybe because I'm not yet an all-time driver.

Build a fence, nope. Most of us Malaysian men I think don't really know that...because we bought houses with fences already? I know how to paint the wall, though.

I can jumpstart a car. I am so bad in switching off the lights after rain- I had to, after much scolding.

Football. Not interested. At all.
Not even rugby.


What's a double Windsor??Google google. Oh...tie. Yes I can. = )

Mow the lawn? No. We can always hire people up. Maybe the kiwis don't have such kinda culture of menebas- I can menebas, or at least, I tried to.

Fishing? No.


Haha man flu is a myth.Or so I heard.

Since I am not much a 'man' according to this ranking, this stereotypical-gender-roles-oriented ranking, I am a 'less of a man' man. Hahaha.

Nah. Whatever. I don't look at people and see their gender. I look at their clothes and deduce what kind of person they are. I'm that shallow. Hahaha.

Ice cream.

I realise now, I really, really, really love ice-cream.

Either those 1.5 litre ice-cream bought from Giant or Tesco or Forte..

or those 20 sen per piece ice pop,

or those 20 sen per piece aiskrim sirap, milo, sarsi, cendol, oren, asam masin...

or those quite expensive ice cream such as NZ Natural or baskin robins,

or those delicious , marvelous Italian gelato like Giapo.

They are all lovely! Marvellous! Great!

The Politics of Font- Facebook, You One Hell Of A Politician.

Strangely enough, this new smaller font for Facebook page to me is a marketing disaster. But nevermind, ageism and eyesore agenda aside, I personally think that it might be a blessing in disguise. Some people like this new tweak, I don't.

1) Smaller pictures at News feed. 

I am those guys who never bother to check other people's profiles. It's too much a job so I tend to simply rely on the news feed to 'stalk' other people's lives.

But to me, the pictures, are too small- I am not that curious people who always feel the need to investigate things that aren't clear to me. Some pictures of a group photo uploaded into Facebook are plain too small now. A friend of mine is tagged there. Nah, it's too small. I'm too lazy to click them. Yadda yadda you live a great life , have so many friends, okay. In fact, now that the profile pictures in news feed are too small- I expect that Facebook now is silently encouraging its users to make a passport-sized photo of theirs as their profile picture- a picture of a mountain and you- can't even see what kind of shade are you wearing.

Wow. Indoctrination.

2) Smaller font- less influence. 

You see , size matters. A larger font is symbolic of importance. Yesterday, I read the comments and statements on Facebook news feed- it was so small I somehow think that what they said are so not important. They were like just some small scribbles on a wall. I better read a book. Or read the BBC news online.  Good for me then. Now I don't have to feel intellectually stimulated by people's opinion on Facebook and respond and google them all. Like yesterday Ustaz Abdullah Zaik posted a few comments about harakat islamiah and I feel nah , " too long, too small, what is he talking about?". Haha now I understand why people couldn't bear to read my long-winded and terribly handwritten essay.

3) Smaller font - less time stalking. 

We all had that time when we bought a book with too small a font , and we hate that eyesore feeling? Either we finish it as quick as possible because we are really eager to know the ending or we stop reading it after all.

4)  Better understanding of my internet browser. 

Now I know what is the use of zoom, what is the usefulness of ctrl and +, ctrl and -, ctrl and mousewheel. Now I also know the usefulness of a larger facebook font, but at the same time too big a wikipedia article- meaning that I can't open them both at a same time. Too much a good thing in a single time, perhaps.

Love, everything is okay, and I love you always.

Layers after layers

The mask I wore worn off

but the wondrous of creation gives me a new one

everytime and anytime.

Sweet life

is but a spell

that insinuates you to desires

you may never understand

shatters- dream,

like a child's play

soon forgotten

but painful in remembering.

And here I am, doubtless , faithless

a profound feeling

so disturbing,so melancholy

my mind's a mess

but the lips still forge a smile

so natural, too absolute

that makes certain

acting is our nature -

and life's a postcard of tranquility

sent during those violent periods of war

assuring the teary eyed lady 

in the countryside waiting at the balcony -

" love, everything is okay, and I love you always."

10.53 p.m, 31.10.10 Auckland.

The journey so far.

Instrumentality of Evil.

For there is a beginning, and there is an end.

Tuhan itu bekerja dalam kerahsiaan.

I believe in democracy.

I am confused, very confused.

I don't believe in friendship.

I am on my way.

I believe in spiritual inclusiveness.

I believe in God, whatever He is.

For I am many.

The clock is ticking.

The simulacra.

Ukhuwah.

Jenaka.

Tarbiyah.

Surah al-Baqarah.

Tamayuz.

Sociology.

Agnosticism.

Songs of Songs. Psalms.

Eli, Eli, lama sabachtani? God, God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Surah al-Muzammil.

Pantun , seloka dan madah.

Logos. Ethos. Pathos.

Today, God is dead. We have killed Him. Nietzsche.

Ahlul Bait. Salafiyah. Sufiyya.

Kebaikan itu meminta pengorbanan.

- I've grown weary of this journey. There is indeed a beginning in this journey, but I believe that it is not yet an end-unless death knocks my door first. I will still walk the path- exhausted and ragged, lost and confused, but I am positive. I am now positive. Very positive.

LINES COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR. JULY 13, 1798

FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length
      Of five long winters! and again I hear
      These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
      With a soft inland murmur.--Once again
      Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
      That on a wild secluded scene impress
      Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
      The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
      The day is come when I again repose
      Here, under this dark sycamore, and view                        10
      These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
      Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
      Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
      'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
      These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
      Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
      Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
      Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
      With some uncertain notice, as might seem
      Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,                     20
      Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
      The Hermit sits alone.
                              These beauteous forms,
      Through a long absence, have not been to me
      As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
      But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
      Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
      In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
      Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
      And passing even into my purer mind,
      With tranquil restoration:--feelings too                        30
      Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
      As have no slight or trivial influence
      On that best portion of a good man's life,
      His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
      Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
      To them I may have owed another gift,
      Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
      In which the burthen of the mystery,
      In which the heavy and the weary weight
      Of all this unintelligible world,                               40
      Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood,
      In which the affections gently lead us on,--
      Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
      And even the motion of our human blood
      Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
      In body, and become a living soul:
      While with an eye made quiet by the power
      Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
      We see into the life of things.
                                       If this
      Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft--                        50
      In darkness and amid the many shapes
      Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
      Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
      Have hung upon the beatings of my heart--
      How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
      O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,
      How often has my spirit turned to thee!
        And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
      With many recognitions dim and faint,
      And somewhat of a sad perplexity,                               60
      The picture of the mind revives again:
      While here I stand, not only with the sense
      Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
      That in this moment there is life and food
      For future years. And so I dare to hope,
      Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
      I came among these hills; when like a roe
      I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
      Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
      Wherever nature led: more like a man                            70
      Flying from something that he dreads, than one
      Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
      (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days,
      And their glad animal movements all gone by)
      To me was all in all.--I cannot paint
      What then I was. The sounding cataract
      Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
      The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
      Their colours and their forms, were then to me
      An appetite; a feeling and a love,                              80
      That had no need of a remoter charm,
      By thought supplied, nor any interest
      Unborrowed from the eye.--That time is past,
      And all its aching joys are now no more,
      And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
      Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur, other gifts
      Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
      Abundant recompence. For I have learned
      To look on nature, not as in the hour
      Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes                    90
      The still, sad music of humanity,
      Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
      To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
      A presence that disturbs me with the joy
      Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
      Of something far more deeply interfused,
      Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
      And the round ocean and the living air,
      And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
      A motion and a spirit, that impels                             100
      All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
      And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
      A lover of the meadows and the woods,
      And mountains; and of all that we behold
      From this green earth; of all the mighty world
      Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create,
      And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
      In nature and the language of the sense,
      The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
      The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul                  110
      Of all my moral being.
                              Nor perchance,
      If I were not thus taught, should I the more
      Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
      For thou art with me here upon the banks
      Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
      My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
      The language of my former heart, and read
      My former pleasures in the shooting lights
      Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
      May I behold in thee what I was once,                          120
      My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
      Knowing that Nature never did betray
      The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
      Through all the years of this our life, to lead
      From joy to joy: for she can so inform
      The mind that is within us, so impress
      With quietness and beauty, and so feed
      With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
      Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
      Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all                    130
      The dreary intercourse of daily life,
      Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
      Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
      Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
      Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
      And let the misty mountain-winds be free
      To blow against thee: and, in after years,
      When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
      Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
      Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,                       140
      Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
      For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
      If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
      Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
      Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
      And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance--
      If I should be where I no more can hear
      Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
      Of past existence--wilt thou then forget
      That on the banks of this delightful stream                    150
      We stood together; and that I, so long
      A worshipper of Nature, hither came
      Unwearied in that service: rather say
      With warmer love--oh! with far deeper zeal
      Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
      That after many wanderings, many years
      Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
      And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
      More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!

Isteri Cerdik Yang Solehah.

ISTERI CERDIK YANG SOLEHAH
by :the zikr

Isteri cerdik yang solehah
Penyejuk mata penawar hati penajam fikiran
Di rumah dia istri di jalanan kawan
Di waktu kita buntu
Dia penunjuk jalan

Isteri cerdik yang solehah
Penyejuk mata penawar hati penajam fikiran
Di rumah dia istri di jalanan kawan
Di waktu kita buntu
Dia penunjuk jalan

Pandangan kita diperteguhkan
Menjadikan kita tetap pendirian
Ilmu yang diberi dapat disimpan
Kita lupa dia mengingatkan

Isteri cerdik yang solehah
Penyejuk mata penawar hati penajam fikiran
Di rumah dia istri di jalanan kawan
Di waktu kita buntu
Dia penunjuk jalan

Nasihat kita dijadikan pakaian
Silap kita dia betulkan
Penghibur diwaktu kesunyian
Terasa ramai bila bersamanya

Dia umpama tongkat sibuta
Bila tiada satu kehilangan
Dia ibarat simpanan ilmu
Semoga kekal untuk diwariskan

Isteri cerdik yang solehah
Penyejuk mata penawar hati penajam fikiran
Di rumah dia istri di jalanan kawan
Di waktu kita buntu
Dia penunjuk jalan

Dia umpama tongkat sibuta
Bila tiada satu kehilangan
Dia ibarat simpanan ilmu
Semoga kekal untuk diwariskan
(istri cerdik yang sholehah)

Dia umpama tongkat sibuta
Bila tiada satu kehilangan
(istri cerdik yang sholehah)
Dia ibarat simpanan ilmu
Semoga kekal untuk diwariskan

Isteri cerdik yang solehah
Penyejuk mata penawar hati penajam fikiran
Di rumah dia istri di jalanan kawan
Di waktu kita buntu
Dia penunjuk jalan

Isteri cerdik yang solehah
Penyejuk mata penawar hati penajam fikiran
Di rumah dia istri di jalanan kawan
Di waktu kita buntu
Dia penunjuk jalan

(  Tiada unsur-unsur tersirat ke apa. Saya cuma baru lepas mendengar lagu ini daripada album Nazrey Johani, bekas ahli Raihan)

Anak soleh.

Tidak semua kita-kita ini Allah kurniakan dengan ibu-bapa yang soleh dan solehah. Tidak semua daripada kita-kita ini Allah kurniakan dengan pengalaman hidup dalam baitul muslim.

 Namun hati. Jangan bersedih. Jangan tewas dengan tipuan syaitan.

Usah disangka ketidaksolehan ibu bapamu itu petanda dirimu tiada erti buat mereka. Jangan disangka bahawa cinta dan sayang seorang ibu, seorang bapa memerlukan ketaatan kepada Allah untuk dimanifestasikan. Tidak. Cinta itu sunnah alam. Yakinlah, ibu-bapa kalian, meski di mata kalian ada cacat celanya adalah hadiah Allah untuk kalian.

Jauhkanlah diri daripada bersangka buruk terhadap ibu bapa kita. Siapalah kita untuk membuat prasangka buat insan-insan ini yang bersengka mata memujuk si kecil  di waktu malam, yang mengikat perut memastikan anak-anak mereka lena tidur dek kekenyangan. Ya, mereka mungkin lalai dengan urusan agama, namun dalam banyak perkara lain, mashaAllah mereka sangat menabur jasa.

Prasangka kita terhadap ibu-bapa kita sebenarnya boleh menampakkan wujudnya bibit-bibit takabbur dalam hati kita. Ketidaksenangan kita terhadap ibu bapa kita seolah-olah kita merasakan kita sudah lebih hebat daripada mereka. Naudzubillah min dzalik.Janganlah kita berasa bangga dengan mampunya kita menghafaz beberapa surah panjang dalam Quran, sedang ibu bapa kita masih tersangkut-sangkut atau mungkin tidak tahu membaca langsung. Janganlah berasa angkuh dengan pengalaman kita mengkaji berpuluh-puluh makalah-makalah ilmu duniawi dan ukhrawi, sedang ibu bapa kita hanya sekadar tahu menahu akan dunia menerusi berita televisyen dan suratkhabar tempatan.

Detik kalian merasakan sedemikian, ketahuilah bahawa di sisi Tuhan-Nya, ilmu itu tidak menambah manfaat buat kalian sedikitpun- meski ilmu kalian setinggi kalian kalau dibandingkan.



Janganlah lesu mengajak ibu bapa kita ke lembah yang lebih baik daripada keduniaan dan kesibukannya, apatah lagi sebilangan kita sudahpun merasakan betapa indahnya hidup berpandukan Islam secara menyeluruh. Tetapi janganlah kita merasakan mereka dalam lembah kehinaan. Maha suci Allah, bukan begitu caranya kita berdakwah kepada ibu bapa kita.

Kesangsian ibu bapamu buatmu bukanlah petanda mereka bodoh. Mereka mungkin sahaja benar-benar tidak tahu, lantas benar-benar tidak memahami. Keadaanmu yang kecewa dan melampiaskan kekecewaan ini dengan kata-kata yang mengguris hati ibu bapamu hanyalah merosakkan hubungan kekeluargaanya yang suci martabatnya dalam Islam, malah merosakkan imej agama ini yang meletakkan ibu dan bapa di bawah darjat Rasulullah sendiri.

Perbaikilah dirimu juga kerana ibu bapamu, meski di bibir-bibir mereka menyatakan ketidakyakinan terhadap hijrah yang cuba kamu sarankan, mereka akan cuba memahami, inshaAllah kalau saja kamu mengurangkan kata-kata, sebaliknya menambah hujah dalam amalan.

Akhirnya, sekiranya segalanya tidak berhasil, yakinlah dengan janji Allah. Bersabarlah. Lembutkanlah hatimu dengan kepercayaan bahawa hidayah itu ialah hak mutlak milik Allah yang mahu mencampakkannya kepada sesiapa yang Dia mahukan. Doalah kepada Tuhanmu seikhlas mungkin.

Dan doakanlah kesejahteraan ibu bapamu dunia dan akhirat, kerana sekiranya kita ini anak yang soleh di mata Tuhanmu, doa ini akan menjadi kiraan amalan untuk ibu bapamu kelak, sesuai dengan kata-kata Junjungan Mulia :

Apabila seorang anak Adam itu meninggal dunia, maka terputuslah amalannya kecuali tiga perkara iaitu sedekah jariah, ilmu yang bermanafaat dan doa anak soleh yang mendoakannya (Hadith Riwayat Muslim).

Punya Prinsip. Meski Pelik.

I am certainly quite adamant in terms of my beliefs, I think.

For example, I fully acknowledge hijab as a model of modesty for muslims, but I do not agree with the idea that any kind of institutions, university, for example, should make it compulsory for their students to adhere to this rule of clothing.

I strongly believe that there is, to a certain extent, a 'freedom to sin'. Such is why God created free will for human - to obey God as they wish, or to disobey God as they wish- but, they have to remember, they have been warned of its dire consequences.Unless the sin disrupts social order, then a collective action could be taken.

Faithfulness and obedience comes up from within. Forcing someone to adhere to something they don't believe in is a PR disaster. Such is why institutionalisation of religious ethics is the worst thing that can happen to a religion.I read malaysiakini.com , where a letter from a reader, titled Kod etika pakaian: Tiada aurat, terpelihara umat , complaining about the 'discrimination' faced by the male students ( what?) and how the university should make it compulsory for students to wear full hijab for muslims and ' pakaian yang sopan' for non-muslims.

What kind of discrimination? Because male are forced to wear tie, that is discrimination? Then, secularly speaking, isn't forcing muslim women to wear hijab so that "pengurusan universiti tidak disoal Tuhan di akhirat" technically a discrimination as well, since somebody ( women) are * forced* to do things * they don't want* ( no matter how sacred it is)?I also disagree how people determine what is deemed "pakaian yang sopan" for nonmuslim. As far as I know, there are not a single time that  people would consult non-muslims, religious and non-religious, young and old about what is deemed 'sopan' to them. " Haiya KAMI kata sopan, lu ikut sajalah! " punya mentality.

The writer also suggests that kumpulan-kumpulan mahasiswa Islam di setiap universiti perlulah menjadi penggubalan undang-undang mewajibkan penutupan aurat" isu yang diperjuangkan sepanjang zaman dan desakan mesti dibuat sehingga ia diwartakan menjadi undang-undang sah universiti di seluruh negara". Do as you may. It's your democratic right to campaign for all you believe in. But, isn't it sad, there are so many other things that needs campaigning. How about the aim that 100% Muslim students in the club got first class honours? Or at least, how about aiming that 10% of Muslim students JOIN the Islamic organization?

I firmly believe that hijab is a great way of protecting muslims' modesty, men and women. I firmly believe that hijab is also a symbolic way of showing the majesty and honour of Islam. Nevertheless, forcing someone to this is an invasion of privacy and rights.

We need to focus on core issue , not some peripheral issues. All I see that Muslim students ( university students)  burning pictures of Adam Lambert, simply because he is gay and a bad role model.

You burned pictures of Adam Lambert because he is a bad role model, but how about the idea that people have the right to burn pictures/ image representations of Prophet Muhammad because " he is a terribly bad role model for humanity. Days before his death, he instructs his companions to expel ALL non-Muslims from Arabia. His 21st century fanatical followers, Taliban, behead people on the video and proud of it. What a role model ".

Whenever you use "authority' as a justification of your actions, you simply lose the game, and losing a game for something so peripheral doesn't feel fun at all. This is a cruel world of democracy. Bear with it.

Masa Berlalu Pantas.

It's almost the end of semester 2, my first year.

All of those hardships , studying for A-Levels, seem so far a time ago.

Let alone those cherished childhood moments, where everything was simple, fun, simple .

Time is cruel.

Khalil Gibran.

The wonders of Auckland Uni General Library and the celebration of curiosity.

Here, I discover quite a number of prominent writers, living and deceased, gay and straight, liberal and conservative- all their works epitomised on paper stacked together neatly and nicely on the shelves-waiting for curious hands to browse around.

Of all, I am grateful for Khalil Gibran. A Lebanese living in the early 20th century, this Christian writer talks about spirituality in such a profound way it transcends religions. His works are honest recollections of his beliefs in humanity and his passion for the meanings of self-appreciation and ourselves to others. His works are celebrations of love, modesty,love and faith. His ideas influenced so many people he was called the Prophet of Lebanon, the Master...

Faith.

Recently I stop publishing posts in this blog.
I am not busy or anything- in fact, I am quite very free indeed, and I had composed many blog posts which however are published in my private blog- for my own reading, for my own reflection.

There are too many words that are not meant for public viewing. Too many questions that if known would create quite scandalous remarks about my faith.Haha.

My my, am I depressed? Perhaps. Stressed out? Perhaps.Suicidal? Not telling.

But I am very certain all these bad moods do not come from people around me.

I'm all beyond that, I am certain .Thank God.

I am no longer a little teenager who seeks comfort in the embrace of illusory friendships. Or a defiant teenager who hates God, and seeks wicked adventures to 'defy' the Lord head on.

I'm pretty tamed now, I guess .

Nevertheless,  my personal quest is far from being done and ended.

Everything is as real as illusions might be. Or everything is all illusions as realities all are.That is what I believe.

In the beginning, it's already hard for me to believe in anything. Anything. Even if I did believe in anything, eventually it will fade out, slowly or rapidly and I cease to believe. I can't stop this obsession. I challenge. I stressed myself out. I embrace uncertainty. Because in the end, all of these are the ones that for now, truly define who I am.

These few months, more than ever in my entire life so far, I have been very much engrossed in my journey of self discovery. This journey is still that same journey years ago, though. The same way. The same situation . The battlefield is still happening in my mind, in my dreams, in my writings. Just much intense. I am still me who occasionally wakes up in the middle of the night-usually from various nightmares I had- and sit on my bed lamenting and shivering. The nightmares are very symbolic, sometimes. The crafty works of the Devils. At other times the dreams were a pure recollection of all the memories I regretted my whole life and suppressed the whole time. In dreams I lost my control over these chains of memories. These memories play all over- and I woke up wanting to cry so much- and I did, a few times. Or sometimes I would write so many things on pieces of paper or books and then tore it all out- then dumping it somewhere- as if I am leaving those feelings in those words and their meanings- and I'm running from them. They are however, always come back . Sometimes I don't sleep for a day or two because I don't want to see those memories,sometimes I want to sleep so long that I feel I don't want to wake up anymore.

It isn't about loneliness, though. That is all teenage stuffs. Or friendship. I never put high priority on friendship anyway. Friends come and go- that's life. All I know that I've tried to fulfil my role as their friends, and trying not to disturb my friends with my never ending issues( ouch). And along the years, I've made friends whom I love for love's sake, and sometimes for God's sake. I learned ukhuwwah- such magnificent word with such majestic meaning. I learned respect. I learned cooperation. I learned to give and take. I learned love.

For years, it is all about emptiness. And I'm not talking about friendship, study and love. Those are all external factors. I feel this emptiness because for so long I've tried to not talk to myself.

An honest conversation with yourself is a hard thing. You may lie with friends and others, but there is an extent to how you can lie to your own self. To strike a conversation with my own self of the past is a painful matter, to explain to myself what and who I am now is very complicated, and to describe what I would be in the future is so confusing.

It isn't so much at changing myself- in the end, it's the idea that I should embrace my self for who I am- yet leaving some empty spaces in between so that the other side also mutually strives to embrace me. Erm, I should say, other sides.

For I am many.

Some of the people my age I have known had gone far ahead in their lives. They are the leaders in their circles of friends, they are participants of many great missions of humanity, and a lot of them are working in such great causes. I am so pathetic to let myself busied with my own personal issue.

I'm optimistic ,though. "God didn't make mistakes- that I believe.". For now.

p/s: I seriously think that I have some kind of bipolar disorder problem. Haha.

Senyumlah, wahai diri. II

: )

Mata.

Dah mula malas memasak kebelakangan ini.
Lebih rela membeli saja. Aish mahalla hidup camni.
Dua-tiga hari ini pulak asyik mengantuk saja. Tidur berbelas-belas jam pun mengantuk lagi.
...

Mengantuk.

Sleep.

Dream. Joy. Euphoria.

Today I really wish that I didn't wake up from my sleep.

It's like a glorious symphony of creation- God has tempted me these few days with temptations of nature, it seems.

Just a couple a days ago, I discover a new poet ( I mean, an old poet, yes I just know him a few days ago) : eecummings.


One of the poems of his :



i thank You God for most this amazing day

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
E.E.Cummings, 1894 – 1962

When suddenly you are able to 'live' those moments, though in dreams, and as a matter a fact a pure recollection from all the places you've been to ( very similar to the Daffodils moment by Wordsworth, perhaps) , you know you don't want to wake up to a silly, sombre reality.

Reading.

Picture by Shoradhi

You are what you repeatedly do, says great Master Aristotle.

Hence, I deduce it from there that some of us are what we repeatedly read.

I'm not a really avid reader. I've never really been into reading when I was in primary school- the only things I read back then are pure comic books aka manga, Japanese comics like Dik Cerdas ( Crayon Shin Chan) or Mutiara Naga ( Dragon Ball) . In secondary schools, because of some issues back then- with stabbing friendships, confusions and all , I seek the library for consolation. Most of the libraries from the schools I've been into aren't that big anyway. But there are books- interesting books indeed.

Maybe I was really tired of the drama. I seek comfort in silent words engraved on papers. Books don't bite. Men do.

The first book that I am really infatuated with is Di Bawah Bayangan Pohon Delima by Tariq Ali. A translated book telling of the history of Al-Andalus and how it falls- from the perspective of the writer- which incorporated both fiction and facts. It was lovely. I read the book many, many times. The story is quite monumental even- rather than the story of some glorious never-sin-all-perfect kingdom attacked by all-evil-super-cunning-the Satan-on-Earth Catholics of Spain- the writer tries to give a more realistic and humane view of such tragedy.  The various characters are given such vivid and interesting lives, and portrayed in such a complex manner that it is both an enjoyment and a wept of tragedy. ( Talk about this so-called-heretical book being my first serious reading) .

Then I've tried reading many other things- even getting my hands reading some Arabic books from the library. Not fun at all- most of the books in the Arabic sections are fiqh and tasawwuf books- what is so fun about that? Nevertheless, I just read them.

Then I discover Faisal Tehrani. Then I discover Paulo Coelho. Then I discover Nisah Haron.

So far, these three writers give such  a profound impact to my thinking and view of the world.

Among many things that I learn from Faisal Tehrani is how history has many dimensions. There is no such thing as divine simplicity in history. It is a mystery in itself. You can actually think of something that you think had happened ( which may not be the case) and simply by gathering all your desirable 'facts'- tadaa, a historical theory. I've developed my sense of being critical in all things around me. Maybe I made it worse than what is needed- I realised that sometimes, I am not just unfairly critical , I am really am becoming a full-fledged pessimist.

Then I discover Paulo Coelho. Many confusion evaporates- or turn worse, as some of my friends pointed out. Hehe. He is such an enigma to me. From the books he wrote and all- I now develop a sense of profoundness whenever I see the contradictions around me- this writer has clearly to be able to play such complexities into parts of something greater- and I found that to be interesting. From him, I learn the idea of "spiritual salvation". From him, I learn so much about life that is in itself , fairly boring. ( Maybe I also learn to be a pacifist from his writing- now that I think of it).

Nisah Haron, on the other hand, clearly make me appreciates my prescribed identities . Her works make me proud of being a Muslim, being a Malay, being a speaker of Malay language. The schooling system failed to make me appreciate the beauty of my own culture- yet Nisah Haron successfully did that. From her excellent use of pantuns and syair, I develop a sense of gratefulness of being a Malay. I am proud of being a Malay. Why self-hate your own identity?

I've also read other works- ranging from Sufi to Salafi, from Spiritualist to Atheist- confusion still knocks the door of my head here and then- but I know now that to discover is not necessarily to find the answer, perhaps it is simply, this journey of reading is already an answer in itself.

As years gone by, maybe some said that I should settle down a bit . After all, theoretically, supposedly, I am already under THE answer, tarbiyah. Why bother with everything else when you have here all the wealth of knowledge provided from the 'prescribed reading'?

I simply don't know why. I've known that my confusion had subsided since I settled down a bit, but so far, I'm still that open-minded me after all, and it's very unlikely to change any time soon. The thing about settling down is you don't really question that much because you've have enough- you are fine with settling for half- I still am not.

At least I know now that I need not to have a conflict with God anymore.

Respecting Decisions.

Welcoming change around me with open heart, along with incantations of prayer and peace. I am not an 'ikhwah', nor planning to be one as far as I am concerned , and do not expect to be treated as an 'ikhwah'- ground rules. I made it clear to myself long time ago.

Nevertheless, to those who wants me to treat them as 'ikhwah', 'akhawat', complete with the degree of respect and modesty carried along with those titles, alhamdulillah, alhamdulillah, alhamdulillah, I'll try to fulfil those desires inshaAllah.

We have nothing to lose, and a lot to gain, God-willing.

In the names of the Holy God I salute you people on your decisions- and may God help you travelling along the way.

Amiin.

= )

Senyumlah, wahai diri.

Senyumlah, walau hati ini sedang merintih, kerana rintihan mendatangkan duka pada orang lain, sedangkan kamu ialah insan yang cuba mencari faham sebuah kegembiraan.

Sabarlah, ketika tidak ada manusia yang di sekitar yang memahamimu, dan kamu terasa keseorangan. Kamu ialah kamu, dan mereka ialah mereka. Persoalan ini akhirnya kembali kepada kamu sendiri, " siapa kamu yang tidak difahami ini?". Apa kamu sendiri mengetahui?

Tenanglah, ketika jiwamu rasa terhimpit dengan hati yang sentiasa membolak-balik dan akal yang kerap menduga. Pesimis itu suatu sifat bagi sebilangan insan- dan takdir menentukan kamu begitu.

Jadilah dirimu. Carilah nasihat mereka-mereka yang lain, namun di akhir waktunya, fikirlah semula, siapa dirimu kini, dan apa yang dirimu ingin jadi kemudian?

Ketika kamu terasa berseorangan di tengah khalayak, atau kamu terasa terganggu di kala dirimu bersendirian- rujuklah semula akan dirimu. Mungkin kamu sudah lama tidak berkata-kata dengan diri sendiri- menanyakan khabar sendiri, keadaan sendiri, perasaan sendiri. Jangan dianaktirikan diri ini.

Senyumlah wahai diri. Senyumlah meski ombak perasaan melanda deras.

Dia tahu semua.

Saya Stress, Sekian.

Believe.

I hardly believe in the mainstream, let alone conspiracy theories?
Too much to bear ( i mean, sometimes they are funny, sometimes they are too prejudiced) .
Such paranoia is clearly unneeded in my life.
Nevertheless, do believe what we want to believe, because believing is an individual privilege. 

Love . Pain.

Love is not necessarily a state of visible happiness.

Sometimes it is very painful.

Because we love something then we feel the pain. Be we love something then when it is taken away, we feel very sad. Because we have a strong attachment to something that we see ourselves in helplessness when we lose it. We love it, we love him, we love her, we love them- just change the pronouns.

There my friend, think again. What do we love?

Would us feel sad when our parents die,sooner and later? Surely, yes.
A really expensive gadget. We lost it . Are we sad? I did. I lost my iPod Touch recently ( by my own fault) and I know I am really sad. I am really glad, really really glad that I feel sad.

There was a time where I was such a crybaby. In my boarding school, during lower secondary education, I would cry whenever I lost an item, because I know that my mum would then be very disappointed with me. I was frowned upon by others. A lot of friends don't understand me on that. They made fun of me. Eventually, I stop crying. I dissociate myself from everything that I have lost. Friends , included.  They are all replaceable. " Even I am replaceable". 

That time was a really dark time for me. Everything I believe in was replaceable. My faith is replaceable. My teachers and their love are replaceable. That was a time of all-smile. A time when one commits a sin, and one knows the degree of a sin, and one would just smile. Even God was replaceable with something else.

But at one point, late at night, during my f3 years, maybe I've had enough.  My mind can't bear it no more.

That night was the most lonely night I ever felt in my life. Tears was streaming down my cheeks like it will never go down anymore after that.I felt the pain, being like this heartless person. I think I cried because I know I love myself and I know I am doing a wrong thing to myself. I tried to cover it as much as possible but it just burst out.

People who read this, be grateful that perhaps you people don't have to go to what I've been. Be really grateful.

I am still suffering. I know I am. But I also know that I will recover. I know that He wouldn't leave me alone.

Back to the question.


Would us feel sad when our parents die,sooner and later? Surely, yes.
A really expensive gadget. We lost it . Are we sad? Should be. I did.

But do we feel sad when we are away for God, or when we are destroying ourselves from within?

Be happy when we feel sad.