inferiority complex thy suffer…

" Allahuakbaru, Allahukabaru, allahuakbar,

Laaaailaaahaillah, huallah, huAkbar,

Allaaaaahuakbar lillaaahilhamd "

( God Almighty 3x, There is no God other than Allah, as He is The Almighty,

God is The Almighty, thus upon Him, we extend our thankfullness )

I cant wait.

Omen 1-Received my first Hari Raya card from a non-muslim, Vonesha, who were to celebrate Deepavali.

Omen 2-Bumped into both lecturers who extend warm wishes for Hari Raya on the way back to condo.

Omen 3-A good friend bought me dinner for buka puasa (Thanks Atiqah and Rizal)

Omen 4-Annual Dinner plans currently in full swing

Omen 5-Assigned with mountains of workloads and having absolutely no mood to do them.

Omen 6-Never before i am looking forward to all the carbonated drinks in miniature glasses, laksa sarawak, mi kolok and colourful kuih lapis in Kuching.High calories be damned.

Omen 7-My trusted, ancient ,dull and boring 3310 handphone broken beyond repair.Good riddance.Currently handphone-less.

Interpret them any way u prefer but i would have sworn that Lady Luck was definitely smiling over me.I could not ask for a more perfect closure before greeting Aidilfitri with a big Hello rather than this amazing sense of contentment, satisfaction, being blessed and excitement all intermingling in a nice perfume.One could liken it with the musky, warm , feeling of smelling caramel-like aroma of raya cookies baking in the oven.( Its chocolate chip by the way)

Or the sensation when Suasana Hari Raya ( Anuar and Ellina ) blasting on the radio while driving.Even the feel-good buzz when all family members finally gather together as a unit taking advantage from the break fom college, work and boarding school.

THAT feeling. Wafting the air with festivity and joy .Injecting ordinary routine like learning how to cut the freshly-baked chocolate cake all the right size without destroying it with humbling exhilaration.Worthily noted that i suspect the chocolate cake will not last to see the light of raya’s sun rise judging the speed of cake’s fast disappearance. Acting out of experiece, mom must have sense what was forecoming because she ingeniously made two.

Two or three days before countdown of raya was considered as the most hectic days of them all.Other than the usual hari raya shopping where consumers could spend exorbitant amount of cash then patting themselves on the back of a job well done,there is the BIG communal spring cleaning and decorating the family’s dwelling.

I am the fan cleaner cum glass/mirrors/frame/ceramic/anything reflective dust buster.My weapons includes the blue-ish glass cleaning liquid and toilet paper. Occasionaly,i would fill in the shoes of fridge scrubber armed with Jif ( multipurpose cream clenaser ).Mom’s the vacuum personnel also the mopping specialist.Dad’s the organizer and in charge of disposal affairs.Brother’s conjoin forces as the perfect duo of car washer while at the same time honing their scrubbbing skills while washing the carpet. Mind you, we could not afford the luxuy of a maid a.k.a bibik but our effifacy in completing the task of engineering the rebirth of a cleaner, newer,and livelier house is passable.

As always, the champion of multitasking had always been on the helm of womenfolk.I admired mom juggling abilities and stamina of doing her bit in house cleaning while assuring her wonderful cookies survived unburnt in the oven.Only God knows how she squeezed the time to cook for our sahur and buka puasa meal.

This was part of the reason why many would concur that assigning mountains of assignments or worse, exams, during hari raya as downright an act of cruelty.On behalf of all noblefolk who are determined to preserve the spirit of raya,i heed the summotion of these heartless people to be held accountable the gravity of damage done in marring the beautiful moments supposedly to be filled with happiness and gay.Robbing the rights of innocent population who cannot balik kampong for raya due to exam constraints should be halted.(Theme song : Dari jauh ku Pohon Maaf-Sudirman)

Stop this injustice.

Selamat Hari Raya and Maaf Zahir Batin

Writer says:In line with her campaign, the writer felt for her MUFY and matriculation compatriots who were struggling for final exams as opposed to enjoying themselves under family comforts and Rendang Tok.

Despite the looming final exam, the writer refused to be discouraged by this and insist that nothing can stop her from  enjoying her raya this year and receiving loads of duit raya.Good luck everyone!

(*Whispers from background* )
" yergh. this post is sounding selfish by the day. my college and i again?"
" ha’ah. itulah, the wrath of pampering. indulgence leads to ignorance.But ,she’s even worse.
If my calculations were correct,she’s currently on top of the vanity phase.Which explains her all too often whinings recently"
" And here i am thinking she’s made of something tough.Then, someone please poke her from her sweet-as candy world ,we need to get her back on track"
" She was,once.Sunway had mellowed her in some sneakish way.U go poke her"
" Asallak, why dont you go poke her?"
"Ey,who’s idea was it in the first place?U go do it then?"
" Why? suddenly u have’nt got the balls? U go poke her.."
" Eh? U go poke her.."
" No,u go…
" I donwan..u go.."
"U go..
" U -lah go.."

Right.Enough.I heard you.
Unsubtely, few people had been complaining how my posts are sounding more and more journal-like when its original intention of its existence,truly, was not.

It was supposed to be a an avenue of intellectual discourse,expressing opinions, and information sharing so that we,youngsters of the future would not turned out to be a whole bunch of self-centric, unapreciative, spoilt brats who cared more about latest edition of nokia handphones rather than the choking API readings.

So much for an intellectual discourse.

No need to fret anymore ,folks.I hearby declared of the new rebirth of my blog where i vowed NOT TO. i repeat ,NOT TO complain so much and be such a prat in words.( Readers are most welcomed as my self-appointed witnesses in this most historical ceremony).Backtracking was the word of the day,when i looked back at all my old posts and relished the days where i could engage in serious issues with absolute ease.

Deep breath everyone,here goes.

Hazy days

Living in high rise buildings possess its own share of boons and banes.As of late,the banes emerged more prominent to dwellers which results them thanking profusely the living men who invented air-conditioners.Thirty feet above sea level and figuratively touching the sky,occupiers,if to be described, are practically swimming in the sea of micro-particles of dust,grime,and ash- haze.
( Introduction)

Tribute to those whom began to notice; this is certainly not a good sign.Malaysia is not even yet, declared a developed country and yet we suffered a classic backlash of ‘go-concrete,not green’ policies.Which made us ponder, do we really want Malaysia to become developed? As far as  things are concerned, citizens were quite content with the climate as it is.

If studied, a third world image that the country potrayed currently is the exact mould that shaped our identity.
A couple of urban areas here and there is fine ,but we need our share of kampongs scattered around the country also.Enjoyably,they function as a place of retreat,a solace after the hectic hustle and bustle of city.These kampongs enclaves also retains and symbolises our strongly-guarded values-synonimly associated with demure,berbudi-bahasa and sopan-santun malaysians.We shuddered at the fact,14 years from now,when all kampongs went through urbanisation process, would eventually lead to the saddening  distortion of a unique alma mater.

Imagine the phrase ‘ balik kampong‘ being no longer relevant.

So we threw the question again.Does being developed is what we really want all along?

P/s : The writer noted that she is suffocating having to breathe recycled air-cond air which is a way better option rather than choking herself with carbon-monoxide infused air.

College going might sound posh and neat and oh-so-advanced, but trust me,my keen eye of observation detected several noted happenings that made me unlearn what i was drilled to do back in school.

English: If i were to be completely,no-holds-barred, blunt and honest, english was, trivial back in school.( no offence,Miss Zil ).If an exam were to be held the next day,only the night beforei would have struggled to cram in informations.Memorise few stuff from The Pearl and short stories would guarantee one scraped with a "B" to the least.C was unheard of unless on very rare occasions where students wrote their piece of essay of-topic.Or didnt do at all.

College english ? one word.
Phew.

One need to be a certified lab com frequenter because the demand for research in english is super-daunting.Questions was to be answered with in-depth thoughts and opinion in which me, still found it hard to arrange , spell, and express my thoughts in an orderly,organized,and compact manner.The bullshitting art of " the longer the sentence,the better" could never be applied here.So,screw me.

Math: Never once i ever thought that math required a LOT of explaination. Every move or statement must based on certain grounds or reason.Sheesh. I could not even explain things to myself,let alone to it on paper.School math was rigid and streotypical. Think of handling a machine.Step  1,…. Step2…..Step 3…. .
College math,I almost considered this subject as a form of art; with the amount of imagination,thinking and logic involved.

Physics: Now here’s a subject that reminds me of math.Gone were the days one would had to invent a machine using physics concepts as tools.All calculations babe! No wonder i often need constant reminder that this subject is spelled as P-H-Y-S-I-C-S as commonly i would accidentally mistook it as M-A-T-H.

As an icing on the cake,I do not know how to write anymore.Most written assignments were typed, i already forgotten the days where muscle crams inthe hand and blisters on fingers were  ubiquitous. ( ah,reliving the SPM days)

Neither do i need to replenish my blue ink.Doodling with the past, one exam will used up the whole ink.Every now and then,i would scourge for quality blue inked pens as Kilometricos and Stabilo’s all failed to live up to the standard s of SPM’s amount of writing.
Thank God for Carreras.
Now,exams were written with a pencil.Go figure.

There you go. A list of learning progresses that ended in a cul-de-sac.

P/s ; The writer is currently in a super-pumped Hari Raya mood.15 days to go..

How can one not love this country?

Their love affair with everything food and cuisine is like a blessing from God. Previous post echoes how easily enticed I am with food even on normal days.One of the main reason I always look forward towards the end of english class( No, its not because of you Mr Tan ) is because lunch time is after english.A routine excercise being observed religiously untill now was Dennis and I will head to the cafeteria and secured a seat.Here,the fun begins.

What to eat? What to eat? What to eat?

Now, its that time of the  the month again where  glucose deficiency and dehydration is deliberate.Cafeteria frequenting was temporarily stopped making way for a more exciting food browsing experience.

The Bazaar.

I couldnt even start about how exciting the whole experience of going to a Bazaar Ramadhan. Especially the big ones in Melawati.My only complain is the wallet-hurting price.People are taking advantage since it is only a once in a year affair,( now even more with sugar and chilli price going up).

Apart from a thick wallet, one must be armed with a certain knowledge before flexing into a full fledge buying spree at the Bazaar to prevent dissapointment.

Resourcefullness is the key.Which has the best ayam percik? Which makcik sells the most succulent kuih seri muka? Which nasi kerabu seller offer value for money? Roti John abang mane  whips out a mean sauce for them?.Be forewarned though, a long waiting line is expected.

Wait, dont get discouraged just yet.

Weigh the calculations,better to wait and taste heaven rather than rush and regret it when it dawned to you later that what you ate for berbuka was crap.Opportunists feed on festive seasons. Do not be surprised to find the mechanic shop around your neigborhood was closed and found the owner opening a tau-foo-fa stall in Bazaars.Patience is indeed virtue here.Puasa,puasa..

Oho. One vital strategy. Early birds gets the most worms.latecomers, dont come and complain to me  that u came across a makcik that say to you with a genuine kesian look,

" Alamak adik, tinggal ekor je ikan bakar nih. Amik je lah, sedekah puasa.."

I’ve imposed a warning.Unless, you want free stuff ( albeit the leftovers )

List of not-to-be-missed bukak puasa food

1. Nasi kerabu/dagang/ayam

2. Kuih pelita

3.Apam balik

4. Roti John besar punya!

5.Ikan Bakar  cicah air asam

6. Putu Mayam/piring

7.Popiah basah

8 . Murtabak

9.Ayam Percik ( good ones are a gem )

10.Air tebu/soya/kelapa ( freshly squeezed)

11. I could do this all day

Bon appetit’

Very,very peculiar,this trek isn’t it?
Just when one thought they have summitted to the peak,even one stumble upon a root would effortlessly result in tumbling down the hill like a bouncing rubber ball.
We’ve all been through this.
Like catching a fish with bare hands.Careful as one are in treading the water,the fish slipped away at the very moment they clasp their hands.
The fish is laughing, one must knew. The fish achieved its goal.
Carefully ,extremely carefully calculating its moment to escape when the predator was at his most superior confidence state.
The predator of course go HAHA!GOTCHA!.

Only at the initial stage.

All intent and purposes focussed in adding the intensity of frustration of the predator .Bloody fish.
Where did the fish go,? the predator wondered, staring unbelievably at his bare hands.

Ok. what a metaphoric crap.This was a pathetic attempt to whine about my miserables’ in the most subtle means possible.As you can see, the urge to lash out on how hopeless and worthless i felt for thyself is being ingeniously constrained as much as possible. How badly i didnt want to associate myself with myself, is beyond verbal description.You just have no idea.

Mayday. Someone save me. Looming over my thoughts are serious doubts about the credibility of what they say " Hardwork is the key to success".( now i’m whining properly ). Go on and prepare,prepare,prepare untill you get sick of it.When things still fall apart, ur already paper-thin confidence become shattered into pieces in front of your very eyes.

Perhaps its the mounting workload, ( short story,interview,english seminar,math teaching project, math quiz, all squeezing with one another in one week)
Perhaps i didnt get to see my parents for two weeks now.
Perhaps my handphone broke  which explains my continous restlessness.

It would have been perfectly fine and dandy if i was left alone to lick my wounds. As everything time such a thing happened,it has been always been that way.

If he didnt go to all the trouble in making me look good when I,on the contra,immersed in self -loathing beyond breaking point, i will just close my eyes and count so that the day will end.

When sorrow involved another individual,a new visitor came marching in.Guilt is the name.To me,dissapointing anyone,is a complete no-no.Go browse the archive (January 2006).I believe people will find it a  a worthy testament.

Clap! Clap! Clap!,congratulations farah hanani,you just broke your self-imposed taboo.

This is when i ran to the toilet and close the door  tight.

I am very tired.

P/s : To whom it may b concerned,deep,deep,deep apologies.