Saturday, January 31, 2009

Fourth Wall

"Leave me alone,
You'll keep on singing the same old song
Till the day you people wake up.
A fool's walking stick supports the clever.
But why do you sit idle
While this bedframe
Also needs a nail or two?"

"You have eyes and you can't see?
Or has language of the eyes
Become as hard as the language of the ears"

"Promises do not mean delivery.
Clouds may be in the sky
But it does not mean it will rain"
- I Will Marry When I Want, a play by Ngugi Wa Thiong'O & Ngugu Wa Mirii
The lines scream poetry, profundity and weight.

Thrilled and honored, aptly how I feel about participating in the impending African & Carribean Students Association's play. I face the challenge of fooling reality, sure thy skin is not black.

But I am already falling in love with the beauty of its language, and the wisdom it delivers. And love; it is strong, it can move mountains, it can cross the seas, it transcends time.

Meanwhile some lines; some lines just speak to me, reprimanding me, reminding me of things wanting of me.

Take me on board, now.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Kekasih Malam Rabu

Awak suka cari saya malam-malam Rabu macam ni kan? Saya tahu saya kurang beri perhatian pada awak kalau hari-hari lain, dan awak pun memang pandai cari ruang kasi saya terdesak. Saya sembunyi sepanjang minggu, tapi malam Rabu awak datang hantui saya. Hai, sampai bila agaknya perhubungan kita nak kekal begini.

Awak tau saya tak boleh nak kata tidak. Otak kata pergi, tapi hati membentak dan kata mari. Saya memang tak boleh. Tak tahan dan tak sanggup. Hendak tak hendak, saya layan jugak. Sebab saya pun ketagihkan apa yang awak boleh berikan, sebenarnya.

Hm, atau patut saya luahkan sebenarnya, saya teruskan perhubungan intim kita ini sebab saya masih tidak paham sepenuhnya diri awak. Saya nak kenali awak luar dan dalam. Saya mahu kenal awak macam saya kenal belakang tangan saya. Saya nak rasa perasaan syahdu bila sampai puncak klimaks itu, itu yang pasti.

Tiap-tiap kali awak sentuh saya, saya rasa macam kena kejutan elektrik bercas 7 voltan. Perasaan haru-biru, resah dan lemah semua terpa saya sekaligus. Saya tak tahu kenapa, memang kalau pandang wajah awak macam begini selalu, saya jadi bingung.

Degupan jantung tak payah cakaplah, memang pantas; kalah jaguh pecut Malaysia dulu, Watson Nyambek. Nafas saya? Fuh, jadi berat dan tersekat-sekat. Memang aktiviti-aktiviti bersama kita ganas. Ganas sangat. Dahsyat sangat. Saya tak tahu macamana nak terangkan kat orang segala apa yang telah awak lakukan terhadap saya; kesemua yang telah kita eksplorasi bersama.

Saya mengeluh. Saya menjerit. Kadang-kadang saya mengerang penuh pujaan, kadang-kadang saya mengerang perlahan dalam kesakitan. Saya cuba tukar banyak-banyak posisi dan perspektif. Tekak saya jadi kering, meskipun dah berbekalkan air botol dan coklat kegemaran kita bersama, Flipz. Saya pandang awak dengan tekun dan kerjakan awak dengan penuh taat.Tapi awak masih tak puas lagi kan?

Awak panggil pulak semua rakan-rakan dan orang kita berdua tak dikenali. Mula-mula kami beri layanan peribadi lagi istimewa, awak pulak mahu kami kerjasama puaskan nafsu dan kehendak awak yang seribu itu. Orgy kita memang meriah, sehinggakan kadang-kadang hampir semua orang di tingkat A itu nak turut serta. Setiap beberapa minit muncul bunyi "owh" dan "aah" panjang menyelubungi tingkat terkeji itu. Masing-masing ingat masing-masing dah puas dan sukses; semuanya dah beres.

Tapi saya tau awak pura-pura sahaja puas, atau acah-acah sahaja supaya kami gembira sebentar. Lepas itu, awak tunjuk kelibat awak yang sebenarnya dekat orang lain, terus semua orang hampa semula sebab awak masih nak kami berikan awak henjutan yang terbaik.

Harus saya akui, kalau awak dampingi saya malam-malam Rabu macam ini, saya gemar dengar lagu-lagu yang rancak dan catchy. Rancak dan pantas supaya saya juga boleh rancak dan pantas sehingga kita datang bersama, sayang. Hm, tambahan kalau lagu-lagu yang saya memang cintai macam "All For You" dendangan Sister Hazel, "Catch My Disease" oleh Ben Lee, "Be OK" dari Ingrid Michaelson, lagilah kaki saya hentak-hentak ikut rentak dan jiwa rasa lebih teruja untuk menguasai awak macam awak menguasai tubuh saya ini.

Tapi kenapa sayang, kenapa awak perlu jual mahal? Kenapa perlu awak buat hidup ini lebih sukar daripada yang sepatutnya? Kenapa awak perlu ada banyak sangat anu, sehingga saya kepala pusing nak fikir yang mana perlu saya dampingi dan rangsangkan dahulu? Awak memang pandai perangkap saya habiskan masa sekurang-kurangnya dari pukul 6 petang sampai pukul 2pagi dengan awak, kan? Awak memang.

Saya korbankan masa untuk bersama awak, tapi awak tak pernah beri ganjaran yang lebih memberangsangkan. Atau beri saya jawapan yang lebih pasti, jawapan yang lebih suci. Tolonglah, malam tadi saya rasa bangga dan gembira sangat dapat layan awak sorang-sorang untuk salah satu syarat awak yang melampau. 35minit untuk sampai ke penghujung cubaan kita, tau. Selalunya saya biarkan awak guna teknik pengunduran macam saya belajar dalam Biologi Tingkatan Empat sebelum dapat saya selesaikan.

Tapi malam tadi, entah kenapa saya biarkan diri saya teruskan. Jadi, harap-haraplah awak hadiahkan lebih tinggi dari 9.4/10 untuk prestasi saya. Saya mahu jadi unggul dari segi ini, sebab ini sahajalah yang dapat bantu saya teruskan kehidupan pada akhir hari.

Kalau tidak... Hmph, baik habiskan masa dengan kekasih malam saya yang lebih menarik.

Buat masa ini, selamat tidur kekasih gelap malam Rabuku.


p/s: Set masalah ekonomi lah. Kinky lah you!

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Fishcake & Curry, I am Nobody!

Not too long ago, I used to believe that maybe, just maybe, I got to where I am now because I did have an extra something; that X-factor nobody actually knows what they're referring to. I was inflated with the prospect that I could go far in life with the talents I thought I possessed. I felt that writing comes naturally, command in English was a breeze, and communicating with people - not a big deal. So, I thought I was set for life. If you look at me or read these words and feel that I am somewhat special, I must thank you profusely, but I beg to differ.

I am nobody, and I am going absolutely nowhere.

I am very conscious of the fact that I may not be the most intelligent student who was scouted for the Olympiads, nor was I the girl with an unbeatable rapport of being number one. I wasn't your passionate debater who could yap on and on, learnedly, regarding any subject matter. More still, I am most certainly not a girl who thrives at all things Mathematics, and God knows how I try, but never will.

I may not be all those, but I was confident that I was a bright girl. To me, being bright means being able to comprehend/pick up things easily, able to converse like I know shit, able to sense, feel and prioritize. It is one thing to be studious and smart, but it is another to be outgoing and quick. It is not with pure conceit that I say so, just out of desperation to believe that I am good at something.

Some of you may be familiar with my obsession for stalking while some of you don't. Let it be known here that stalking can lead you to a myriad of places; connecting you with brighter, smarter, more talented pool of people that you knew existed, but were never exposed to. This mere activity of clicking, reading, more scrolling and anticipating lends you insight to how inept, stagnant and ordinary you are. At least, that's what it did to me.

With the power of stalking bestowed upon me, I am led to the stark reality that I am nothing! I see peers who write creative stories, strangers who pen long, flawless posts in a command so natural and effortless, and I am left feeling envious. This is not even talking about the friends who write about global issues and current affairs. Reading those genuine, well-articulated ideas make me feel under-accomplished and completely throws me off the track from aspiring to become a writer/columnist one day. I hungrily feed on inspiring quotes and entertaining stories by Malaysian peers whose blogs get heavy traffic and in the end I just feel hopeless.

Yes, I dream to write one day, but seeing what I see now truly leaves me with self-doubt if I would ever make it. A very special person has gotten his words published in the newspaper at the age of 19 for gods sake, and I am not even contributing to the campus publication. Some of you will surely argue that my writing is pretty good, but how do I explain this thirst for being more than I am? How do I make you see that this totally demolishes any harbored thoughts that I had something special? Clearly there are millions of more talented individuals out there, and I am very much outnumbered and conquered.

It's on rough days like yesterday, that this again occupies my mind. I have been suppressing these insecurities for a while now, but I think my state now calls for some personal bashing. I see more clearly now, all the signals I should have seen. A friend keeps mentioning how intelligent and smart my other friend is, but has he ever said the same about me? No. I have never written anything worthy of mention by anyone or worthy of resonance to anyone; and that's good indication to myself that I am lacking.

Yes, I know I know, I have made it through school with good grades and all that shmatzy, and yes, Alhamdulillah, I am studying abroad here in the United States, but do you see? Do I really have something more to make it even further in life? Will I ever have something more to bring to the table?

Fishcake and curry, let me wallow in self-pity; because right now I feel like I'm nobody.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

a tempo

I will, I will tell you;
at a time when the skies are blue,
the world is mine, and the time, ours.

I Seek Thee

Infectious giggles, tongue-tied moments, scattered thoughts battling their way out, looping random conversations and bursts of laughter from a much awaited voice; those are what I seek for a long, long time now.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Yes, I Know Who I Am


The Feist: 1 2 3 4

1, 2, 3, 4
Tell me that you love me more
Sleepless, long nights
That is what my youth was for

Oh, teenage hopes
Arrive at your door
Left you with nothing,
But they want some more

Chorus:
Oh, oh, oh,
You're changing your heart
Oh, oh, oh,
You know who you are

Sweetheart, bitter heart,
Now I can't tell you apart
Cozy and cold,
Put the horse before the cart

Those teenage hopes,
Who have tears in their eyes
Too scared to own up,
To one little lie

Chorus

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9 and 10,
Money can't buy you back the love that you had then
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9 and 10
Money can't buy you back the love that you had then

Chorus x 4

For the teenage boys
They're breaking your heart
For the Teenage boys
They're breaking your heart

I know who I am. I am one of two who has changed heart. I am one of two who has drifted apart. From the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry. But I think I'm ready. I'm ready for the future, for the possibilities, for living life! This is it. I know what I want. I know what I feel. Let's just wait for time.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Tamat Riwayat


Worn, seasoned jeans is the most comfortable thing in the world after a grandmother's warm embrace and reassuring words. It is a safe choice, it is true and it is follows through, in spite of your most torrential weight fluctuations or worst pimple outbreaks.

How can I not remember the first time I laid eyes on you? It was 2006, at One Utama that I went for jeans hunting with Papa. You gave me the fluttery, butterfly-in-the-tummy sensations people get when they meet something they really desire, and something they knew would be the best thing that could happen to them. It was a fit! All I needed to do was get your length altered at Uptown and an inspiring love affair began soon after.

You saw me through my best days. You saw me through my worst bad-hair days. You saw me through my saddest moments or loudest experiences. You served me selflessly through my stint in conservative INTEC by accompanying me on my countless dates with S, on my 24/7 Calculus-studying at Starbucks with K, on my pasar-malam trips with the six-pack. You were always my choice for movie trips and open houses with KYS buddies. I am sure you will not forget carrying Yaya nor her spits and her pen scribblings on you. Ayell never really got to know you, but I'm sure you'll never forget how tiny he was when he was born.

Most importantly, I am glad that you have gotten to see your fair share of this Land of the Free called America. We both have seen much and experienced aplenty here. I'm sure you love Chicago and New York City as much as I do, and I still feel pangs of remorse that I did not take you with me to San Francisco and the roadtrip I went on last year.

Albeit I may have shortchanged you many times for that $3.99 jeans I purchased at Charlotte Ruse, or that unbelievably cheap, genuine Roxy jeans from Bandung, or your two Levi's half-sisters, skinny jeans black and gray, or my new penchant for leggings; you should know that you were my true love. There is only so much skinny jeans can do by looking great with boots, but you gave me faith in myself by looking so great on me always. I thank you endlessly for that.

Now that time has taken its toll and the many number of washes have eaten you up as they see fit, I guess it is time I accept that we bid farewell. I do not have the heart to physically throw you out--like I did to your older, bootleg-cut of a stepsister--but I'll be seeing you less and less. May we meet again at place where all jeans, things, friendships and relationships go untainted, unspoilt and forever ready to make someone happy.

When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran

p/s: If this is just about a pair of jeans, why do I feel so empty?

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Sound Advice (pun intended)

Take a step back and be mute once in a while because you'd be surprised at the beautiful sounds you hear with your heart.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

My Mom, Not Yours

Some things we cannot escape from. One that's catching up with me is the recognition of a big part of you in myself. The way we beat around the bush, our talkative ways, our overwhelmingly rapid speech and our kalut traits; we are more alike than I have ever realized. It took me about 19 years to see that I am this extrovert girl, speaking more than I should (though not all the time a good idea), because of you Ma.

Despite the shortcomings it may bring, I am still proud to have been bred as assertive as I am now. There are so many things I could never have done and accomplished had I not been able to speak and write as I do now. The books you taught me to read and love, the places in old Kuala Lumpur you made me see, the independence you gave me to roam about with public transportation (long before anybody else's parents gave in); for all those I thank you for.

Your penchant for winning competitions and knack for writing stellar slogans amaze me like no other. I am truly happy that you are getting back in the game of speaking out to the public and writing letters that matter, and will support you in any way that I can. Though I grumble at your requests for Obama newspapers/memorabilia, there's a huge part of me that admires your worldly concerns and the fact that you are not like anybody's mother.

Abang, Kaklong and I may have had our fair share of emotional fights and tongue lashes with you, (and God will burn us in hell for that); but I do want to assure you that we never once truly, really, deeply meant all the words we've uttered. Abang throws his tantrums because he cares, Kaklong and I sometimes take a step back because we are void, empty children. We tease because we are playing with this game called "ego and love", yet we get frustrated because we just want you to move on and be happy. We may cringe at your actions, but we are just concerned. It may have been the circumstances we live in that make you you, and us, your children, us; but we are still family and we love you despite all the showdowns the family has seen.

It may sound very disturbing to some that we are never a family of I love you-s. "Take care"-s, "Keep safe"-s and embarrassed "Love, Nj"-s or "Love, Ma"-s in greeting cards are the closest we'll get to uttering those three words. And this is the closest to an I love you I will ever say, Ma. Because my mom, she's just not yours (yes, yours, readers), and that makes her special.

Happy birthday, Ma.
(January 15, 2009)


Your "Princess" signs off now,
Nj/Adik/Nima

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Blind & Blinded

I am blind but I think I have met a man with the prettiest eyes.