Friday, November 29, 2013

The fight for you is all I've ever known to come home.

So these past few days I've been sleeping after Isyak around 6-9pm, and stay awake til 2-3am before going to bed again.

And wake up at 9-10am (well there was one time I woke up at 12pm) DIE LA LIKE THIS D:

Problem is, I get all sort of weird things with that kind of sleeping pattern - headache, binge eating, mood swing, you name it.

Last night in one of my messed up sleeps, I had a dream of this one Korean song which Adam asked me to listen to some ancient time ago. Yes my dream got sound! I read somewhere it's not normal to remember your dreams, let alone to have sound in them. Well things are really getting into my head what to do.

So it's this song that I woke up to, ringing in my ears, with very little success of me humming it so that Adam could look it up for me. I'm rubbish with Korean songs oh well.

Thing is, it's such a sad song. All melancholic and nostalgic wth. So not only I woke up to a song I couldn't find on Youtube, I also woke up to sudden overwhelming sadness and hunger (this is a must regardless what mood I am in). And and aaaanddd this song is about some high school relationship and it sorts of brings back the memories of Adam and I back at KMB - we were classmates sitting next to each other in the class and left random love notes everywhere and all the sweet stuff yes can puke now lol. But noooooo I truly miss having someone to peek at in class. And wink at (though I couldn't really wink, still can't now sigh). And merajuk and annoy our classmates and teachers with our college sweetheart stuff. And how much Adam would try to make me stop drinking that Nescafe Mocha in fear of caffeine overdose.. Well if only he knows how much caffeine I take these days hee hee.

Btw 'hee hee' is how my mom giggles in her text. Hee hee.

You know, those days when things seemed so carefree.. Well apart from having a family living abroad unreachable by phone, that kinda sucks. Ahh those days.. Makes me realise how we're now all grown ups.

Which brings us to this!

I don't know why the picture seems so blur. Well, Samsunggg. Mehh.

And that is my mom's full name - so long I wonder how it fits in her IC. (Hi Ummi!) *waves*

But anyways, Alhamdulillah.

After more than five years living away from each other.. We're all finally coming home! Thank you to those who've been praying for us. To those who've been listening to my rants about distance and stuff.. Thank you so much! You'll probably get different kind of rants from me after this hee hee.

And when I saw this..

Yes Adam, finally you get to be with the rest of your siblings - and be bullied and annoyed and lose all the privileges of being the only child living with Ayah and Ummi.

Thank you Allah. I couldn't ask for a better life.

Monday, November 25, 2013


The other day my mom said this,

"I know how you work. Once you built a wall it's almost cannot be broken."

-- referring to my very strong preference/liking. My heart (my heart, not me) has an issue of letting things pass - from the simplest thing like: 

1. A very messy house and I'll keep on whining making a huge fuss out of it even if I no longer see it.
2. A pair of running shoes that doesn't match my gym bag.

To the more complicated things like:

1. Someone did something wrong to me once, I'll remember it forever. Yes, for-e-ver.
2. The dish sponge is not placed in the right way (or rather, my way) Fine la this one not so complicated.

Horrible I know. The other day someone asked why am I such a pink freak, considering almost everything I own is in pink - even my room is in shades of pink! I AM NOT A PINK FREAK. Just so happens that I own something in pink, I think it started with my black and pink Nike backpack, since then everything had to follow suit. And my room, well, I have this pink and purple carpet inherited by Kak Hana who's now safe and sound and successful in Malaysia as a doctor (Hi Kak Hana! *waves*). Since the carpet is already pinkish, I can't have a blue bed sheet can I? So the story of the pink stuff continues..

Why do you think my gadgets are all from Apple? MacBook, iPhone, iPad, iPod.. No it's not really the case of an Apple freak, I just want them to match! God knows how badly I want to get my hands on Samsung Note. But nooo I just can't bring myself to D:

Well if you feel this everything-has-to-match-attitude is annoying, imagine HOW I FEEL. There are times when I really feel like screaming to myself - ENOUGH WITH THE MATCHING OBSESSION I WANT TO BUY GREEN SHOES F--- OCD. Needless to say, nope I did not buy green shoes.

So recently I did an online OCD screening test, and guess what?

(Btw OCD stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, just thought I'd say that)

Not fun.

Example questions (so that you can pass the OCD exam heheh)

1. Do you worry about accidentally hitting a pedestrian with your car or letting it roll down the hill?

Heck I don't drive that much, but when I do, I always have this idea of hitting someone. When someone's driving (and that would usually be Adam), I will always, I mean always ask him to hit anything that crosses the road (people, dog, etc). Sometimes I would even scream like "Why don't you hit him/her/it??!?" HORRIBLE I KNOW.

2. Are you concerned about physically harming a loved one, pushing a stranger in front of a bus, steering your car into oncoming traffic; inappropriate sexual contact; or poisoning dinner guests?

The ones highlighted are the ones that I think most. Considering I don't drive that much, then the former one is more applicable to me. If you walk with me, you'll notice that I don't walk too near at the edge of the sidewalk, out of fear of PUSHING SOMEONE INTO THE LANE AND BEING RUN OVER BY A VEHICLE. The same happens when I'm waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green, that fear is always there, hence me standing a bit further from the road.

Now that I say it, I'm pretty sure no one wants to walk with me anymore. I'm a serial pusher (?) Tsk :(

OCD can be a lot of things. For example, I have a friend with a self-diagnosed OCD (that's what we are, self-diagnosed, really, HAHA) whose obsession is cheking and re-checking that everything is in place, the tap is tightly closed, the light switch is off, etc. Me, not so much. My OCD tends to sway towards matching colours and things to be arranged in my way, even the simplest thing like the room door must be shut at all times, the hangers have to be in certain arrangements, the window blinds must be shut downward etc.

It doesn't help that I have very strong preferences and little things bother me. For example, I almost cannot walk on the floor barefoot. Not just here in UK because of the cold, but since I can remember. Even at home back in PV8 - I need to wear slippers in the house. And unpleasant smell bothers me. A lot. Like Adam once used this one detergent with a smell incompatible with my nostrils (haha), I refused to wear my clothes washed in that detergent and ended up wearing his instead. That also explains why I don't let Adam fold my clothes because they have to be folded in my own way. Yes WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.

When we first got married, I had a massive internal issue with having Adam in the same room with me. All the time. Adjusting was difficult. Things like, "Bags are not supposed to be placed here, it should be there" and "Can you please put the hairbrush back to where you found it, please?" HAHA. That was then. Now I must say I am super thankful for having him tsk tsk (terharu). Apparently Adam has his own way of arranging his stuff too, just that he isn't bothered if they're not. Unlike me, I'd go on full blown stress-mode if my brain rejects how things are.

Think we're in the same shoes? Check here.

Here's to self-diagnosed OCD and pushing people in front of a bus! 

Okay. Tak.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013


I first learnt the meaning of the word 'travel' from Ayah.

Ayah. Yes, my father. He always reminds us how we are all travellers in this temporary world. He even named our house back in Terengganu "Darul Sementara" which literally translates to "The Temporary Home" - which easily means that this world is impermanent, that there is something more important at the end of the road - the hereafter.

Ayah is a very simple man. He was the one who taught me to set goals or matlamat as he loves to say it, even if it seems so far from reach. And repeat them. All. The. Time. Have your goal visible so that you are always reminded by it. I remember when I was in primary school, he wanted to go to Beijing (for whatever reasons) so badly, and during that time, whenever we asked him where he was going (to office, surau, etc), he would answer - Beijing. He even bought a toy bus for us and pasted "Beijing" at the front of the bus as the destination. Little things, but he did them nevertheless.

Needless to say, he did go to Beijing at some point with Ummi few years later.

(I'm thinking that was probably one of the reasons why I insisted to study in the UK, regardless of whatever course I would do - I just have to study in the UK) -- On another note, nak sangat study UK, dah sampai sini homesick menangis nak balik. Pooodah.

He was the one who taught us to have plans of the day, to work out what we want to do on that day, and at the end of the day do a reflection of our achievements. His usual words over dinner, "So apa hasil kamu hari ni?" And we would be eager to answer, listing what we've learnt at school or simple things like reciting the prayer for my class. On days when we thought we had nothing to be proud of, he would encourage us to just mention good things that we did, as petty as "not watching TV for hours." And when we really didn't have anything to say, we would feel ashamed of ourselves. To that extent.

When he sent us to school (in my case, drop me at my boarding shool or during the weekly visits), he would remind us of this magic phrase "Orang berjaya memberi hasil, orang gagal memberi alasan." At some point we got really annoyed by it, and often mocked him, and he would laugh and dismiss it and still keep saying it. My father is a patient man. A very patient man.

He never raised his voice to us. Never. Not once have I seen him shouting in my entire life. When we did something unpleasant, the easiest example would be fighting among each other, he would simply remind us that if one of us cried, both of us would be punished. Often we compromised, with the elder ones not wanting the little ones to cry.

Whenever we raised our voice and upset him (and it took an extremely high effort to upset him -- he's just too patient), he wouldn't argue back, he would simply keep quite, and said "Don't talk to me" - and that meant not talking to him until we apologised. It wasn't much of a big deal especially when you were a kid and not talking to your father for a day meant extra hours of TV and playground. But back then not talking to Ayah meant the whole house wouldn't talk to you, as if you didn't exist (as dramatic as it sounds), so it wouldn't be long till we succumbed to our ego and asked for his forgiveness. And that was all it took - apologise, and he'd smile like nothing happened.

But if we did cross the line, Ayah would count from one to seven, literally one, two, three, .. up until seven. Once the number reached eight, it would be official, we'd get punished - which is a stroke of rotan on our butt (or palm, whichever we prefer) in the prayer room away from the other siblings to maintain our dignity just in case we cried (which we usually did). But then by the time we left the room, we would be smiling like nothing happened just to show to the other siblings that it did not hurt. Dignity. Your emotions are yours - that's what I've been taught since I was a kid. Which I usually failed terribly. And still failing.

Ayah used to keep a book with a huge "Mesyuarat Keluarga" with him, which was exactly what it said - the family meeting book. We had family meetings usually on Thursday nights after Maghrib to discuss anything we wanted to share. I remember once, my "big" issue was wanting to join the school field trip to Kuala Lumpur by flight, and it would cost around RM200. And back then, RM200 was a lot if it was to be spent on me alone. I had to write an official "letter" stating why I wanted to go so badly. In fact I had to write a letter every month asking for my monthly allowance since I was in primary school. The letters would be kept in a family file so that we knew whether I've received my monthly allowance or not. At some point I really thought it was such a hassle, but money did not come easy back then, and Ayah was just training us to be well-disciplined.

He is also the man who lives by the rule - early to bed, early to rise. Which pretty much sums up who I am today. His words -- "Find a man who can wake up for Subuh by himself, then everything else is sorted."

Ayah, the man who keeps telling us to work hard while we still can. "Hidup ini memang untuk bekerja, kalau nak berehat lepas mati nanti." Subtly addressing the need to work hard to survive this world and prepare for the hereafter. So that we can truly rest there, in Jannah.

He's the one who keeps encouraging me to write. Write. For one day you'll forget.

A man who firmly believes in the power of mind control - "No one can hurt you with your consent." You choose how to feel towards things.

Recently he said this to me, "Life is not just about looking for flight tickets to Belfast in weekends" -- with regard to my never-ending need to be with my husband, reminding me to see the world from a different point of view. Yes, we're married. But no, we're not an ordinary couple. Togetherness is a luxury.

I always thought him as eccentric and different, when I realised that I, too, have many of his traits - even some of his way of thinking.

I am pretty much the emotional version of my father. 

We both love to travel, and needless to say, with the distance separating him from Ummi, and Adam from myself, we do travel. A lot.

But most importantly, in this temporary world, we are all travellers, wayfarers, making our way to the hereafter while trying our best to be reminded of the temporariness and not be drowned by the world and its glitters. 

Monday, November 11, 2013

Of NMG 2013 and a friendship lost in time.

Had my third dose of Nottingham's Malaysian Games last weekend. This time I went there as a player rather than to wander around and have fun because I was so disappointed with last year's food stalls that I told myself I definitely wouldn't go to Nott's Games if I wasn't playing. But surprise surprise, life has its own's way to play trick on people (or rather, me?) because this time the food was pretty awesome. We got nasik kerabu, some nasik ayam masak merah, char kuay teow, apam balik etc. AJ's sister tagged along so she bought those food for us while we were stuck at the netball court. How nice :')

But then, it's also kinda annoying because last year when I went there for fun, the food was disappointing. And it's this time when I went as a player that the food was all cool. How fun.

We met Cardiff in group match, AGAIN. Sigh. I don't know what is it with us and Cardiff. It's been three years in a row that we were in the same group. And they were sooo good! We came close to beat them last year with a draw, but this time around, we lost completely. Blegh. But then again, they got bronze so finally Cardiff went home with a medal! Yaaayyy!! The gold went to, guess who, yeah, LSE. Don't tell me I didn't warn ye.

Okay I'm a little bit biased here because I know most of the Cardiff people and of course, there's Edy, the sharp shooter. Haha!

Leicester's netball team

Because I'm so kind and I love my team, I'll introduce you each and every one of us.
From left - Nana, Kak Fasya, Bella, Haifaa, Pei, Lynn, Intan, AJ, Ze Lyn

And I look sooo tiny D:

We got quite a few compliments saying how smart we look with our pink and black outfits. If there was a Best Outfit Award for netball team, we'd probably already bag it haha!

But then, nothing beats the feeling of seeing a good friend you haven't seen in six years..

Amira Suhada aka Shud

I hardly tell people about my high school life. Truth is, I went to two schools - one in my lower form, and after PMR I left to another school.

Shud is a friend from the latter. There are actually five of us in the 'gang', and I was the only new Form Four among us.

For some reasons, we keep very minimum contact with each other after leaving school. And it doesn't help that I shut myself almost completely after high school, allowing very few people in my life.

When I met Shud, we just had to tell each other what exactly happened in those six years that are lost in time. Some part of me that has been repressed all these while was, for some reasons, awakened. I was scared. I was reeeeally scared to remember again. I have always been a firm believer that some things are best left unsaid. And to be honest, I was expecting some fresh cut and bleed from those memories, but to my surprise, it actually felt good. It felt so good to finally remember again. To reminisce it with someone who understands. Someone who knows. To feel again. To know that you're not the only one who have been feeling the way you're feeling now.

It felt like someone just lifted a huge burden on my chest - a burden I had to carry all these years all by myself.

However scary it might seem, despite everything that happened, us - the five of us, are still one of the best memories I hold close to my heart until now. We defined friendship in our own way. In a way I could never find in others.

And towards the end, Shud said this,

"Remind me how you're such a good listener Bella. You've always been one."

Babe, I love you too.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Write. It keeps you sane.

I kinda decided to stop writing in public last few days because
1. It makes me feel transparent.
2. Transparency can be dangerous.

But today I've succumbed to the writer in me, partly because
1. Writing keeps me sane.
2. I've got nothing better to do other than writing.

Most of all, writing makes me happy.

I hope it makes you, too.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

For I cannot weaken if You are with me.

"Send me a light and a lantern to guide me
This world weary traveller is yearning for hope."
Heartsong, Talib Al-Habib