Why I I

I am So Happy, It's Sad

I fall in love and it tortures me
the inner peace makes me restless
I fall in love and it consumes me
the inner joy besets me in melancholy
I fall in love and it torments me
the inner contentment feels insufficient
I fall in love and it proves deep
the inner security is shallow
I fall in love and it brightens me
the inner glow casts me in darkness
I fall in love and it comforts me
the inner luxury gives me blisters

by Zwelibanzi Moya, a mentor and dear friend I gained in Johannesburg, ZA

The start of something beautiful scares me aplenty. The mind plays foolish tricks and questions the unquestionable, speaks the unspeakable, judges the unnavigable. But I tell myself it's going to be okay as I shush myself to sleep, for he is ready to be a friend. Not like the last one. And again, he, my friend who will always be a friend no matter what, is right, He is always there for me. I am never alone.

Still, I just want to be okay today.

Sound Bites In Cape Town

In spite of the beautiful sight of clouds embracing the flat top of Table Mountain (called tablecloth) that completes my morning walk to class, I face an inevitable horror. It is the horror of sitting poker-faced for 3 hours as my professor par excellence, world-renowned anthropologist and endearing mentor, John Comaroff delivers his grand lectures with all this anthropological jargon and sophisticated words.

Sometimes much too grand and sophisticated for my incapacitated brain (due to the euphoria of being in glorious, glorious South Africa).

For a taste of what I struggle to comprehend everyday...

In the exegetical discourse of African modernity, we problematize the grammar of post-capitalist Africanity through the normativity of limitations and the internal dynamism of a deconstructionist debate in a totality paradigm with a Hegelian perspective to modernity and positivist knowledge.

(Alina Epstein, on her imitation of John Comaroff, circa January 2010)

The fact is, of course, the verbose sentence means nothing. Completely nothing. (Hehe, not to mention we discovered that some words in our readings were conveniently made up)

But the truism is this: the higher the ratio of syllables to a person's sentence, the smarter he sounds. Damnation!

So let us create words like damnation and pray tell we sound much smarter than we really are, because in life, sounding smart gets you around:(|)

On a much lighter note, you can sound stupid and make many persons happy.

"Beautiful.. Show me your panties"

(Overheard in Cape Town, circa January - February 2010)

Clearly the best pick up line. Ever.

2009 As It Were

I am 24 days late for a closure. 2009 is taking much too long to rid itself from my system; evident from the way I script XX January 2009 on every single leaf of my class notes thus far. Perhaps it’s a Freudian slip and my psyche is not ready for my penultimate year of college. Though I wonder if a large part of it was not for the non-closure and confusing twists and turns my emotions have gone through last year.

So here’s my attempt at putting 2009 to rest.

I ended one long-term relationship after long, difficult deliberation. I patched things up with a friend I once thought I lost, after he surprised me in Chicago on my birthday. I struggled through Economics to get to the part I think love most, only to find myself doing worst at it. I gave a portion of my heart away only to find it returned to me dent and fragile as ever. I experienced, for a period, how cultural, racial and religious differences mean nothing if you care for one another.

I saw my friends grow and am happy that our friendships have blossomed to a new level of understanding. I saw myself grow in ways I am still trying to decipher whether it is good or bad. Nonetheless, I have grown and the more things I learn, the more I learn how little I know. I learned to let go of bitterness of the past and instead focus on the fact that Allah trades one thing for another.

2009, as it were, was a year of reconciliation, understanding with reason and choosing sides for me. If you were a part of my 2009, be it through rain or sunshine, I bid you many thanks. It’s your choice to be a part of my 2010 but know that I have a place for each and everyone of you in my heart. Because a person this small should only have a heart so big to fill it in with a mélange of emotions that keeps her feeling big and stronger.

I turn 21 this new year of 2010. Let's see how I take this one.

Crunch Time, Mak-time

A cup of harmless (or so I thought) Cappucino kept my mind on a non-stop, 3 hour replay of variables, constants, alphabets, assumptions and models last night (or morning to be exact). Hilariously enough, these were things that escaped me this morning, when I needed them most.

One by one those dreadful letters and numbers just up and left, abandoning me in my combat against all things evil in fiscal and monetary policy. I try to tell myself, "I am not alone, I am not alone, I am not alone". I am not alone, am I?

As of the moment, that is what I am, alone. Alone in threading 6 pages worth of words and the harvest of thoughts I have gathered over the course of 11 weeks. It's okay, words are easier than letters that when combined, don't make sense. At the end of the day, words penned down well earn me a warm heart.

Statistics will then conquer my time, the minute I raise my fingers that have done away with its typing. As the clock strikes 8.30pm tomorrow, another journey will be revisited. Some numbers to run, a few papers to examine, and a hell lot of typing to be done.

Then? The struggle ends there. Full stop. Just as sudden as it came. I pray I have enough strength, courage and faith to go on. Amin.

"Scandalous Lives of UChicago's Elite"

I have not slept in my own bed for the past 4 nights. Scandalous much, right?

It is in fact, a scandal in it's finest form, I tell you. I have been spending my cold nights huddled up in someone else's space, on someone else's bed. Wait, you're not going to tell anyone, are you? Please don't. I have to live up to my heavily Muslim name (Nurjannah Iman Syaqirene) you know.

What's that you said? I didn't quite hear you. Oh, you don't know what my name means? I don't know if I should tell you. Well, well, it's for me to know and for you to find out. Let's leave it at the fact that I probably don't live up to my good name as much as I want to.

Yeah, man, especially now that I'm sleeping with someone else.

Oh yeah, you heard me right. I'm simply enjoying my intimate nights with a certain someone. Someone by the name of Joe.

There is no more incredible feeling in the world than losing yourself in the arms of a strong man while he indulges your every sense. To see, to feel, touch, to taste, to smell. Uh-huh, we do all that, Joe and I.

Halt! Don't jump the gun just yet. I don't smell smell (or sniff, make of it how you want) him, his feet or that certain part of the human anatomy I'm sure you are thinking about. Nor do I touch whatever you think I do. You have despicable thoughts, sheesh.

What exactly am I intimating, then? Well, you know, the innocent stuff. To see is to look into the other's eye. To touch is to feel the warmth of the other sitting right beside you. To taste is . . . to literally, bite into your guilty pleasures of chocolates and sins. (Gotcha there, didn't I). And to smell is to smell another's presence beside you, just from the way his clean, crisp clothes smell, or the noticeble scent of his perfume.

But what I love most about Joe is that he understands my intellectual pursuits and the sacrifices I make for them. He doesn't mind that we are surrounded by obnoxious, loud people. All he wants to do is just blanket me with his warmth and whisper encouraging and sweet, sweet thoughts into my ears. It tickles me, feeling his hot breath against my sensitive ears. But it's a feeling like. No. Other. (to emphasize just how that feeling felt like no other).

For the most part, Joe accommodates my search for ideas and entertains my nightly thoughts about making a difference in the world. I talk, I type, while Joe sings and Joe writes. What does he write? He writes the most meaningful missives, left on tables after tables so that I can read his words and remember his presence wherever I go. He is romantic that way, you know.

Ah, what a fresh new world you show me, Joe.

Because of that, Joe, I'm devoting 5 more nights with you. 5 more nights with you, and I will soar high above the horizons as you take me to places I have never been, Joe. 5 more nights of just you and me. Yes, you and me, Joe. How can life get any better than this?

For all this, I heart you Joseph Regenstein.

Picture courtesy of forums.nutsie.com

His name, in full, is Joseph Regenstein Library, folks. Of course we play SAFE, need you even ask?

Disclaimer: Euphemism. Self-explanatory. The chirpy tone, and sensational foreplay? Nothing but a twisted version of the sad, (and really twisted) things I actually do and will continue to do at Joseph Regenstein Library. It's true I haven't been sleeping in my beloved bed the past 4 nights, though. I sleep IN Joseph Regenstein Library, indeed!

What's Floating NJ's Boat?

Punca-punca keterapungan bot/sampan/perahu Nurjannah:
Masalah subletter? Setel!

Date: Thu, 03 Dec 2009 11:23:14 -0600
From: Rachel Belanger  
Subject: Re: 54th & Cornell, Jan-March 2010, $500
To: NJ

Hey NJ,

Is your room still available to sublet? I've explored a couple other options, and yours is my best one. It would be great to meet your roommate before totally committing, but I'm sure I'd be able to live with her. Let me know what's next...

Thanks!

Rachel

Gadis yang akan mengambil alih bilik saya benar-benar wujud, in the flesh bak kata orang putih; dan saya sudah pun bertemu dengannya dua hari yang lepas. It's a small world after all, kerana kami rupa-rupanya pernah mengambil kursus Environmental Studies bersama-sama.

Kami juga telah mengumpat tentang pensyarah kursus itu yang bosan lagi memualkan, Sir Peter Crane, (ya, he was knighted for his contributions to the Kew Botanical Gardens. Agak cool, tapi faktor ini will be discounted bila anda masuk kelasnya dan lihat kaca mata, pakaian serta intonasi suaranya yang boring).

Beliau adalah epitomi kepada segala stereotype yang wujud dalam kepala otak saya tentang kebosanan orang Inggeris (as opposed to Anglo Americans). Jangan tanya saya kenapa, but I'm averse to a lot of things British. Mintak simpang malaikat 44 jika saya perlu menonton wayang-wayang British. Sangat tak kuasa. Dahla gigi kuning and tak handsome (with the exception of Ed Westwick). And I digress.

Tidak akan menghadapi set masalah ekonomi dan statistik. Selama-lamanya!
Okay, I lied. Bukan selama-lamanya, only in my dreams. Well, sekurang-kurangnya buat 4 bulan yang akan datang. Juga ingin dimaklumkan di sini saya kini tidak sebodoh IT yang disangkakan kerana semalam, saya telah berjaya mengguna R, statistical software yang digunakan untuk kelas Statistik. Pada firasat saya, R adalah sejuta kali lebih user friendly berbanding Matlab. Pencipta R wajar menerima Nobel Prize. Terima kasih kerana membuat orang yang paling bodoh IT rasa pandai sebentar. By the by, kalau awak dah pernah nampak saya kecoh tentang ini, diam-diam sahaja. I've said it once, and I'm going to say it again, Statistics suck balls!

Berjaya mengecek Papanya untuk mendahului tambang perjalanan Cape Town ke Chicago.
Kejayaan ini telah dikecapi beberapa minggu yang lalu, melalui panggilan telefon yang sangat panjang, namun the euphoria baru kick in. Kenapa lampi sangat? Sebab saya baru sahaja short of $4000 setelah membayar yuran program ke Cape Town, dan apa-apa handout yang boleh disumbangkan adalah sangat bermakna kini. Of course, operasi untuk menukar cash advance ini kepada convertible loan/stipend akan dijalankan. Proses mengecek fasa 2 akan dilancarkan, jangan risau.

First fall of snowflakes on my shoulders
Maklumlah, awal-awal musim salju memang sexciting. Tunggulah 3, 4 minggu nanti when the novelty wears off, akan saya complain pasal sejuk nak mampus, inches of snow yang oh-so-annoying.

Now that you are privy to my source of transient happiness, you should know that hell awaits me. Sila wish me good luck dan beri sokongan padu dan jitu kerana saya akan cuba jadi Superwoman untuk buat (dan fail) segala-galanya. Nothing short than suicide, Kamikaze style!

"Houston, We Have a Problem"

. . . An effing problem with procrastination, that is.

On a less self-denigrating note, here's one of those songs that you just gotta fall in love with once introduced to. On days that just isn't fall but not quite winter, short of hours before doomsday strikes, this is a always a good song for the lonely. Heck, it's a good song for the lonely. Period.

Kadang Kala, Tahi Berlaku

This coming January, I'll be ditching the harsh Midwestern winter for the sun and all its glory in Cape Town, South Africa. Good for me, right? Yeah, awesome possum. But the possum isn't so awesome when what ensues the prospect of participating in study abroad programs is the arduous task of subleasing my apartment.

Mind you, it is not as easy as publishing friendly ads online and slapping eye-catching posters around campus while you goyang-goyang kaki and wait for those e-mails to flood your inbox. Especially not in the aftermath of the credit crisis and a shaky real estate market in Hyde Park, Chicago, coupled with the fact that less students transfer to the UofC during the winter quarter (who in their right minds would trade their comfort zone for deep snow that loses its novelty after a week and the awful wind chills that chap your lips and crack your skin, right?).

And especially not when you are a susceptible victim of deceit of one of those *tooting* Nigerian scams. Especially not that *blood pressure rising, temple throbbing*.

Did I just lose you at "Nigerian scam"? Are you nodding your head now? Never heard of a "Nigerian scam"? Well today is your lucky day, because with the powers personal experience has vested upon me, I will brief you about those *tooting* schemes.

In my college, this Nigerian scam phenomena is so prevalent that you're a social leper if you don't receive their emails. Congratulations to myself, because in a field I would rather not, I am not a loser. I used to receive an average of 3 fraud emails a week. The emails begin and end with extremely polite salutations involving the use of God's name in vain, perhaps to latch you on with their *cough*fake*cough good manners.

The conman then establishes himself/herself as the legal attorney of si polan who has just passed on and would like to honor si polan's wishes by granting you an X sum of money as testified in si polan's will.

It's entertaining and indeed laughable to think I am suddenly related to a good 20 plus people in Africa (presumably Nigeria) or that I can become a millionaire overnight without lifting an eyebrow. (Mungkinlah I have a penchant for sexy African/African American men, but I'm pretty sure the last time I checked I am born and bred a Malaysian Malay (ha ha)). It's even more entertaining to think that these people think people can be had.

Realizing that half the world are chuckling at their petty stratagems, these lowly creatures are now penetrating the online sales market. They scour sites like craigslist, ebay and college marketplaces and pretend to be interesting in buying and selling.

They pretend to be innocent, non-smoking female college students studying in UK who are transferring to The University of Chicago and are looking for a place to sublet. They also pretend to be the naive young girl who needs daddy to write the eager tenant a check and who waits for daddy to present her with ultimate directives.

Oh, don't worry, the only money I've lost over the weekend was to a Juicy Couture purse (handbag for the non-initiated) and 3 pairs of new shoes I don't need (damn those Black Friday sales). Receiving a check for $4500 signed by a different payer (not Laura Baily or Martin Scott) from a bank in California when I asked for $600, while the FedEx was delivered from Maryland when daddy is in Essex just points to something fishy that I can smell 10 000 miles away.

What I've lost was the time and effort spent over a long, week-to-week correspondence with an imaginary Laura Baily and her daddy, Martins Scott. What I've lost, is apparently my common sense; because how on earth did I not realize that daddy should have been a something Baily? What I've lost is my fuse because right now I want to kentut in the faces of the a-holes behind these nasty ruses.

Learn your lesson from my lesson learned: Bad english (beyond the common "that's mean" or "oversea") is a telltale sign of a scam. Especially when the foul language is coming from someone who's presumably "English" and residing in Essex, UK.

 

Date: Wed, 25 Nov 2009 20:07:25 -0600
From: Martin Scott
Subject: RE: Payment received!
To: 

Hello Nurjannah,

    I thank you for your email and am happy that you finally got the payment.The payment was sent to you from my client and he made mistake of forwarding the whole amount($4500) to you. He should have sent to you a month's rent and security deposit and have the remaining sent back to my Travel agent so as to book for laura's flight and some other traveling expenses that will be incurred.
  
      Thanks for the mail and your honest transparency, the funds you got was to secure the unit for my Daughter and i hope you are aware she will be taking unit for a period of 12 months or more ?
 I will need part of the funds to get her flight booked as am on a business trip now to secure my goods in transit and will not be able to make her flight bookings please deduct the first month's rent and the security deposit from the payment you received and send the balance via money gram money transfer to my travel agent so She will be able to get her a flight booked. She manages all our travel and tours through out the states,She needs the money to get Laura's flight booked and pay for other travel expenses that will be incurred.


Pls send money via money gram money transfer  to:

Name: Dorothy Beasley
Address:1260 Spring St NW
City: Atlanta
State: GA
Zipcode: 30309

Note that a transfer fee will be deducted from the funds you are sending

I will appreciate you help her out by putting her through as soon as she arrives in the States so she can get a bank account opened that way i will be able to send the remaining rent fee to her all at once when i get back from my trip ,so she can pay you on the first or each month or all at once pending on how you want the fee.


Please send the funds to the information above and email me the actual amount sent and the REFERENCE number and the actual amount sent.
As soon as i get the details i will forward you her flight itinerary so you can be aware of her arrival date and time .

Thanks a whole lot for your offer of accommodation i really do appreciate.


Martins.

                           A DEPENDABLE NAME IN ELECTRONICS WORLD

Oh, kadang kala, tahi memang berlaku. Well, I have the last word for now: "I'm honest and would not want to cheat you off your money". Ambik kau liar liar pants on fire.

Pictures For Another Day

I have a volume of pictures compromising my delicate identity as a cutie (haha). Really. Feast on your eyes on these latest (or old, if you want to be technical) snapshots that have found its way to my collection.

Imagine my horror when a primary schoolmate posted these old pictures on Facebook, where they are available to all willing eyes and ready laughter.

They were taken circa 2000, and I was bawling next to Sofia (one of my dearest friends) over our UPSR results. Uh-uh, I was that lame; to think it was only UPSR and I obviously had a farther journey and a million more hardships to endure (like the current battle with this procrastination disease I contracted in my tertiary education).

But it's okay, I'm actually keeping an inventory of these sensationally ugly pictures for memories of what a silly jester I am. I think It's important to be able to see unpolished images of yourself, because after all, the most human of people are people who can laugh at themselves.

Keep the pictures coming. We have an album to fill and with that, years of laughter ahead, friends =)

Am I Doing The Pantomime?

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinion, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." -Oscar Wilde

What if we are nothing underneath our skin? Perhaps we are merely a collection of thoughts learned, quotes found, passions emulated and dreams followed. Maybe I am. The thought is too depressing for a weekend half wasted. Oh tidak. I need some green tea ice-cream. And some catching up with the surreal biatches living their unrealistic lives in the Upper East Side. Oh boy.