Tuesday, 30 June 2015

Im a failure to keep love in tact
When I love you with my whole heart,
the only thing I have
And I want to give it all to you
But I can't
Because I'm a devil
Dark in the inside
Darker on the outside.

I miss you, like hell damn much.
But I can't put myself down
When it's the only way to hold you up high.

Im a miser at giving myself away.
I wish I could give myself to you
to end this misery. 

Tuesday, 23 June 2015

There's 2 hardest episodes in my life. Both of them were at the junction of every life phase. It was hurtful, and some pain I can still feel, and some words I can still hear. I am not dumb, I am not selfish, I am not someone who think so much about myself, except that some times I do some mistakes, I look at the world wrongly. But who to blame? The books I read? I make mistakes. I am an asshole sometimes. But all the struggle I had against you and against myself, was really about getting out from the trap I lived in. About fitting in. About viewing the world they way others do. But why your words are so sharp, why do u need to stab into my heart and aggravate the wound that is already there. I am hurt because of you words. Because of your insulting jokes that put me down. My soul WAS gentle. She was innocent. She was naive.  I would separate the identity of my brain and my soul. Brain need not to have courage, it is free to think, free to imagine, free to do anything. While soul is the centre of action. Where bravery comes. I know my brain is wild, and my soul is gentle. And your words.. it demoralises me.

Hey, your words hurt. Why do u need to kill a soul so gentle?

Monday, 22 June 2015

Perempuan Malaya in Universiti Malaya


In respond to the above writing:

I can relate what the author says about Universiti Malaya, but just as a degree student here. When I was in PASUM, the first time coming to this “prestigious” university, number one ranking in Malaysia, I really did not think of much to expect.
But my experience in UM brought me to think that there were really some part of the university that was prosperous with lively academic discourse among the warga not just any isolated research conferences. It was true and it wasn't deceitful. I met interesting people who were very much into good disourse especially in making changes in society or exploring new perspectives, aslo in improving religious outlook. I made friends with them, and we went together to some good classes too. I also got to know people who read gargantuan amount of books, in which some of them do not make into university. For them, the chase is not the academic pursuit but the fill of knowledge the society needs. Some of them choose to rather be a drop-out instead of having their academic freedom compromised (as in their version).

One day I took a taxi ride from UM to somewhere. The uncle asked me whether UM library had the book he wanted to read. He told me that he had ordered a written thesis from overseas. The book was about the Israeli and Palestinian history. Upon reaching the Malaysian Customs, the book was not permitted to enter Malaysia as it was banned here. The uncle claimed to be a Ph.D holder, and he was driving the cab to earn some money during his free time. I don't know if he was telling a lie about his education background. But even if he was, I know he didn't lie at how famish he was at reading. This was not the first time I met a taxi driver with admirable education background. The next time I took a taxi, the driver was an old man who used to work with Pak Sako, a historical Malaysian journalist. And blablabla his stories went.

I stayed in Kolej Kediaman Ke-12 like many other PASUM-ians. And life there gave me an ecstatic every now and then as a someone who were in search for good truth. The best was not just about meeting so many good people who were concerned and involved in advocating societal changes but my encounter with easily-found, cheap second-hand books, journals, and science magazines sold at just RM1 in front of the lifts was a great heaven for me. Even the surau had good academic books written by renown Islamic scholars that were imported either from Indonesia or Middle-East. Those books are not easily found in the local market for public like me. Somebody must have brought them there and donate to the surau. Here also was a place where I met a few akak who were keen with opened Islamic discourse. We went together to a SIS conference who publicised their documentation about “ulamak perempuan.” They were also willing to share some good paperworks, one like “Perlaksanaan Hudud di Kelantan.” There was also a group of people who opened up a free-to-read book station at the time of evening breeze beside the Tasik Varsiti. They would spread a tikar on the ground, people gathered on it and later listened to a bedah buku from random presenter.

As for Pekan Buku and the main library, I did my monthly visit there, either to buy books or borrow or just for readings. A lot of books in the store and the library widen my view about Islamic knowledge, far better than that supplied in conventional bookstore or any library I have been. I remembered during my high school years when I asked some people of some vague terms like “liberal”, “secular”, very few can answer convincingly or at least know what they were preaching against. But, laughably, I was also part of the people who cakap besar but know little about the real issue.

But imagine the strong perception I got before coming to my degree in UM. Degree life is expected to be another exciting journey of discovery. But, it feels slight lesser.

Well, medicine is not any less exciting. Just that, for now I would need to silently sit at the corner of my room and read some medical textbooks instead until the upcoming final exam finishes.

Sunday, 21 June 2015

I never write when I am happy. It's s always either when i feel soo hopeless, or that the feeling of pasrah passes by. The just-let-things-be (aka rationalising the reality). Oh, or when I am so angry. I dont know what else to do if those feelings come.

Theres' also another reason why I don't write happy stuff. Because the story will always reverse the next day I wake up from the night I write a happy note.

But today I decide to favour the odd. And let tomorrow decides for tomorrow. And tonite decides this beautiful, presenting constellations on the sky kind of night. I will finally know how to live in the present. Which what my friends have been nonstop preaching me.

So, for the short note, I am happy. :) Yeah, Bye.
Why? another note, when I am happy I am lazy.

Friday, 19 June 2015

Tuesday, 16 June 2015

I remember that time in my childhood
where I cried hard for You to help me out,
I vowed to do sth for You in return of the favour,
but I know until now those wishes aren't heard..

And I cry hard and pray again today.

The Lord has answered.
Sorry, tahun ni sepanjang perkenalan tahun ini handicap gila kak.
Nak buat semudah-mudah perkara seperti tarik diri pun perlukan pertolongan.
I will stand up soon, and even if it's not for you akak, 
and even if you gonna say I dont really care what happens to you,
I will stand up by my own. Its injuring to be at the bottom with sharp pieces of shattered glasses everywhere I make an attempt to sit. 
I will stand up.

Monday, 15 June 2015

I think it's painful today.
I don't want to get healed.
I just want it to be noticeable.

Freud dan Fraud

Harini saya akur dengan ajakan seorang senior untuk mengikuti kelas promosi percuma Sekolah Falsafah. Rilek2 ye semua. Seriously nothing grand with the word 'falsafah' since I am not a student of any school of philosiphy nor I read much of it.

Apa yang menarik tentang tajuk kali ini ialah Psikoanalisis oleh Sigmund Freud. Pembentangan oleh sedara Fuad. Saya tertanya2 juga apa tujuan perkara seperti dipelajari orang awam, terutamanya semenjak saya memasuki degree, kerana ia semakin kurang relevan dengan pekerjaan yang bakal saya jalani nanti.

Pun begitu, ia menarik. Walaupun Freud tidak memberikan solusi kepada internal conflict manusia seperti saya, tetapi teori beliau menjelaskan kepada saya kenapa masalah tersebut berlaku. Teori Freud berceritakan tentang pergelutan dalaman yang dihadapi manusia, antara Ego (Reality), Supergo (Morality) and Id (Instincts) dirinya. Apabila ketiga-tiga elemen ini membuat tuntutan yang tidak serasi ke atas diri kita, konflik dalaman berlaku.

Tulisan saya mungkin sangat ringkas dan tidak mencapai maksud sebenar kajian Freud. Tetapi saya bertujuan lain kenapa ia dituliskan di sini. Tempoh hari, ada seorang teman menyerahkan buku Personality Plus dengan harapan buku itu saya khatam dan fahami. Bukan tidak mahu saya lakukan hal tersebut, tetapi persoalan personaliti seperti itu sudah cuba saya fahami sejak dulu lagi, tetapi masalah identiti yang hadapi masih belum selesai. Jikapun ujian personaliti tersebut benar, saya tidak mahu percayakannya kerana saya tahu saya masih belum meneroka luas diri sendiri. Sekali kita menetapkan keyakinan kita terhadap personaliti kita yang spesifik, kita telah mempunyai fixed mind, di mana kita percaya apa yang sedia ada adalah kita, lalu usaha2 memperkembangkan potensi kurang berlaku. Berlainan pula dengan growing mind (ke apa ntah namanya). Ia berkembang, sehingga mungkin berpotensi untuk benar2 mengeluarkan kebolehan yang ada dalam setiap individu. 

Pendek kata, buku serious tidak memberikan jawapan kepada semua. Kita tidak perlu sentiasa berpuas hati dengan penjelasan yang terdapat dalam buku tersebut. Setiap informasi atau pendapat yang diberi di dalam buku, perlu ada textual analysis supaya bukan sahaja kita membudayakan pembacaan tetapi bersifat kritis terhada teks. Ada jawapan yang lebih besar menanti. Teruskan pencarian. Bon voyage!

I have not been found.
Please find me.

Sunday, 14 June 2015


I was mad. I was filled with anguish when I came to my first degree in this varsity. I was lacking in knowledge that even golongan agama don't have much awareness of how paramount changes the society needs. I was particularly mad to them, because most golongan agama are the people who claims to bring the God's words, yet they don't even realise the extension of their duty. They don't read books, they don't go and meet figures to have talk or discourse together, they don't notice problems with the world, they don't even involve themselves. What's their role then? Merely teaching agama subject in school. That's how small we understand the job of agamawan in our society.
I need to level up.
I mean, it's my life right.
Why care being different.
I badly feel like hugging full bulk of a tree trunk, wanting to absorb its strength
I got a lot of fire burning inside, and don't know whom to channel the flame to
I'm putting my sunglasses off at this bright time, to not shade my vision

I'm a fire, my dear, can't you feel the heat. And this flare has consumed her own bone down to her soul. 

Saturday, 13 June 2015

Serious shit.
I need my life back.
To sit down, to read books.
and to meet some people I've been direly wanted to meet.
Peduli apa travel,
I just want stable.

Ini adalah pelayaran pulang ke tanah air,
perjalanan pulang meyakini Tuhan.

Friday, 12 June 2015

Im thinking on my own feet, and another step to go is to be free from the fear of being  mediocre. I am indeed a mediocre, everyone is, at least at some parts of myself. I have to tell myself, I cant afford to be good at everything, yeah?

I think I have take my rest time long enough, and the struggle to get up is not smooth sailing, where I have failed to get up by many times. I am on my way to make clear of my mind, of what I am to do and what I want to get. But of all, I want to remind myself to be raw and open, not having the need to hide anything of myself, esp if it's my flaws as a mere human.

I hope I am brave again. But this time, with an extra edge of wisdom. 

Of Monsters and Men

Of fakey truth and open faulth.

And raw sin. 

Tuesday, 9 June 2015

I am in constant struggle to write a good piece of writing of my life account. Not the storyline that  is important to me, but the lesson learnt, twisted plot that later teach me how to see life better.

I wrote but never put a good resolution to it. Never actually know what I really feel. Never actually know what to feel even. I will always feel restless like today that I'm writing and also any other day, until one day I manage to successfully put down  feelings in the right way with the right choice of words. I'm not sure what is required to be done to sharpen my writing skill. Do I need to read more so that I have a more abundant choice of words in my vocabulary tank. or do I need to write more and just be the me who writes things this way. I need good words to describe my feelings. I badly want to translate the voices I had in my mind into literal being so that I can see, I can feel, I can read my own mind. With the hope it would stop running in my head. I wonder sometimes is it me who has been extra sensitive towards feelings and emotions that playfully exist in life. Or is it that I'm young in this life that I experience so much of new things.For me, I have been going through a lot of phases in my life in which each of them posses its unique beautiful feelings along with the pain and sweetness. I can't help to not ignore them.Some times I like to drown myself in a sea of emotions, because feelings are one of the most beautiful things to savour in life.

I used to write using bombastic words, esp during high school where I check the dictionary for almost each word I used, and the thesaurus for almost another word I'm about to use. but I know it wasn't genuine. In fact, not just my writing, my feelings my thinkings my actings have a lot to do be questioned of their authenticity. A lot of them are dogmatised. I am not saying it's wrong. But I feel trapped and unable to move places I wish to go before of the hardcore belief, which sometimes I know are not that right. I think a lot about my life, including my essay writings and posted blogs rambles are ambitchous. They constantly depict the extreme effort I put to look wonderful. Well, who in life doesn't appreciate effortlessness. Even putting effort has to look less. Less is more, so it goes.

At one point in life, I realised I grew up with doctrination. I was a fan for haraki books. And I took the callings for being "muslim", seriously. I didn't find it entirely wrong, even now,  because at some point religions and beliefs have always been like that, regardless being the good or the bad elements in a social framework. Religion need to thrive and any ways, there are spots where religion can penetrate either for people like me who like rationale and academic discipline, or others.

But but, even though I had a gargantuan religious spirit, hamasah ( doesn't mean I was an extremist), I don't think I was thinking on my own feet. On the contrary though, I have a lot of thinkings on my own (I mean not necessarily my own decision without knowledge la...) like how should muslim girls who are thought to be reserved in her tarbiyah setting, socialise amongst peers that are more "liberal". Whether girls should or could shake hands with VIPs on the stage, where crowds are looking. To hold hands of a boy to help them out. A few simple examples to give. But I failed miserably. I fail to express those thinkings into deliberated actions or spoken words, to express how luas rahmat Islam pada alam.
Of course there is religious discourse among ulamak of whether these above are permitted in Islam or not. Like Dr. Yusuf Al-Qaradawi himself, is more inclined to the opinions where shaking hands amongst opposite genders are allowed in tight time, such as wanting to take care of the dignity of her counterpart as being in the public with less comprehension over the syariah matter, that is muslims don't shake hands with different genders. I've myself seen an authentic picture of Dr. Sheikh shaking hands with a female.

You see, muslims are diversed in our WORLD VIEW, because of how we are brought up, and our difference in our living environment, familial background, received education. We all belongs to various schools of thoughts. And we muslims are in many continents, bringing chaos instead of rahmatan lil'alamin. Our different views, even though brothers and sisters, collided rampantly instead of homogenously mixtured. It's hard to understand other's point of view because we don't engage with their settings, but it's not the shortcomings that set us back. It's how we see ourselves as a muslim. Indeed we believe in what we believe which comes from Quran and Sunnah, but our interpretation and understandings about the same ayah could have been different. Because humans are granted with a marvellous gift, the thinking brain. Each ulamak understands God's command differently. And within each understanding, it's not that ulamak trying to go against God, but instead to go with what God has want us human to do.

Haha, alrite, things like this I shouldn't write much, because I am not an academician or scholars. There are more people worth listening to compared to a mere, laymen person like me.

Anyway, enjoy to be in search of meanings!

Monday, 8 June 2015

I know I've grown up a lot in life when I look back into the trails of life I've gone through. It wasn't easy and the difficulty apply to any of a person's life journey. To a certain degree, I am glad that I wasn't put in a place I had wished to be, that's to simply say, study in foreign country. I wouldn't have seen a vast filming of life in reality, of which most of them I didn't even know existing.

In life, we wouldn't have much of internal struggle if we accept ourselves the way we are. And all these while, I've been int the war against my own self. I am different, in a lot of ways with people. I've rarely met people like me although I wish I could find more so that I could feel more normal and less alone. Mostly, I make good friends with a lot of people older than my age. I find more comfort and similarity talking to them. 

Belief is the highest sovereignty for human. It controls what possibly can and cannot. I want to belief that it is okay to be me, amidst people who are not thinking alike. In all honesty, I don't know how far should I go with stuff I am concerned about. Should I join the discourse and their movement, should I stay oblivion, or should I just observe from afar? Any choice is not wrong, and any choice is my favourite. I am not putting the burden overly on myself of wanting to participate to stuff out of my circle of influence. I've mingled with people like these, talked to them, and for me I feel most belong when I am with them. I feel inspired. A lot. To be part of those people who concern about the world. And not just that, they contribute. It is just them to wanting to do those things, to be part of the action for change. Some people are brought up to contribute ideas or changes into society, especially coming from family which exposes their kids with ideas and changes since early in life. And in some social fraternity, it is strongly upheld that becoming an agent of change is a part of a muslim duty. And I have to be honest to myself and my people, even though, I wanted much to hide my upbringing of these kind, wanting to get away from relentless stereotyping and the hard time taken to justify to people on my world view. I find joy and contentment finding answers in my quest. I was once told that if you really want to understand my Islam, I've got to set up my on journey to study Islam from its root and authentic knowledge. Although I haven't really worked out to really go in depth into various schools of thoughts in Islam, I have had a glance to many of them, giving a generic view of Islam. This is me. I wrote this in order to find myself back. I find it practically difficult to do what I love so much when I got little crowd to gather and talk with, like being in medical field right now. As much as reading stories, playing video games, movies and songs are part of my free time activities like every else too, there are more things in life I found more meaning of doing. I like the thrill to find meanings, fyi.
This year might as well be the most silent year in my life. I wanted to share a lot of my opinions, ask so many questions, but I stopped myself from doing so. I dont know, but this year is the year I find myself being the utmost lazy to speak out. I know I haven't spoken out publicly much previous years too. But previously, I have a lot of urge to speak, but I know little of what to speak out. People don't belief me when I said I was traumatised by the fact that people criticised me for speaking out at the beginning of my degree life. I know why it was, because I presented myself as a naïve, a very kind person, overly friendly as if I was trying to hide my nervousness or something. For people, I was not genuine enough. Probably. I was shocked, yes. And why? Never in my life I was personally attacked for becoming what I am.

If you want to be in the debate, you need to speak out more.
She's soft.
You think we are too intelligent for you to understand us?

There used to be the time, even though they didn't directly say to me, I felt the building pressure that challenge me as a muslim when I didn't socially perform. I take a big pride towards my state as a muslim. And if I didn't manage to do something, of thrive in a social circle, or class I would feel much ashamed to God. That's how big I tooke religion into my life. 

I have had enough times where I always direct my life to how people think deems fit, either religiously, spiritually or intellectually. I want to trust myself more this time, that I have an instinct good enough to make a right choice.

Tuesday, 2 June 2015

I wish I could explicitly describe the dream. If only I master the craft of playing with words. The dream was one of the best, one of the most relatable story to my own self. It was something more than just a story line, something more than just emotion that it draped me into. It was as if reality was there, and it was all my life was about traveling. To jump into story then into another story, and to have discovered the essence of life in each tale being told.


At that moment, I was doing some organizational work in a quite room located top right of a buiding. It wasn't coherent of what I was doing, but it was something about a business that our organization was working out. Selling some stuff (also unknown) in a box, so I got to pack them up. Later I was waiting for someone (I don't know who) on a bench with a long table, like the one we had in our school canteen. With me was my Samsung Galaxy Tab S, the usual 8.4” kept in a blue pouch of which I carried almost everywhere. Not long after, my father coming from nowhere picked me up and he said in his own cringe of excitement, we gotta go somewhere. I convincedly tailed him from behind.

The next moment I remembered was that time when we was in an underground train central. It was a vision I was dumbfounded with. Many trains of our left and right side were speeding towards and away from us.


We were on board the train. My tab wasn't with me, and remembered that it was on the table I was sitting earlier on. I was quite worried because I need to read my lecture notes since my barrier exam for my year 1 MBBS was coming, due in 1 month. My dad said, no dont worry, forget all those stuff and just enjoy this moment because we are going to Sparta. Or Spanish... Well, I don't quite remember which country did he say, but it somehow was a country starting with “Sp___”. But it couldn't be Spanish because Spanish is a language not a country. But between Spanish and Sparta, I think I heard my dad said Spanish more than Sparta. But Sparta then? It was so historical.

I decided to walk away from my dad just to explore what we had on the train. The train was very spacious, not rectangle as it had always been but square in size. They had this casual atmosphere especially when they arranged a circular couch centralised upon a small table in the middle. On the couch many people were chit-chatting. At the brink of my vision field, I saw some kids playing around behind the couch. The train was not posh like the casino house I often saw in the telly but relatively luxurious in comparison to any train I had been onto. I walked to my right, asking myself of what to read since my tab was not with me. An old man,who was much shorter for his age, walked towards me. An arabic name flashed through my mind when I looked at him, Muhammad (sth) (sth) (I don't remember. It was a dream right, I am not suppose to remember everything). I assumed that must be his name. He looked like a wise and friendly man. If I could guess, he might be a professor of a university. He offered me to come into his room where he had some books I might like, then he went away. I turned my head to my right where I saw a readily opened door to a room (or maybe there wasn't any door at the first place, I'm not sure). I entered.

The room was small. And the feeling was as if I was in a room of a new house. It didn't have the smell of a new house, but just the vacant feeling. Or maybe the plain look of it. A room with a white-painted wall with no furniture other than three tables occupied with books. There was also a window with two panels. The view outside was green pokok pisang and the green wired gates most middle-class Malaysian house would have. It was the view of my backyard of my house back then in Shah Alam. (This was weird because I was in a train, but nothing can be more strange than any dream). The books he had were also unusual. There were printed in large size, like the size of the canvas painters always used to draw their arts, only that these were books not painting. I grabbed one of them with both hands. Didn't read the title before putting it back, I saw a giant drawing of ships. Few flashes of books with ships in their plots came into my mind. I didnt read or open any of the books as they were sealed with plastic wrapper. Owen. I didn't know where I saw this name. It was the only name of an author that flashed out in my head before exitting the room.

(I googled the name as I wrote this. And Google Images served me with this Michael Owen, a footballer name.. which sounds not quite right. Owen should be like the name of an author of the classic english time no? Or maybe a character of a classic english literatute I read. Or maybe just the Owen Shaw from FastFurious)

I walked to the another train coach. I hope to see people I know. Shrill of  surprise travelled down my spine when I saw three of my cousins sitting on the couch, crowded with people around them. They were Mak Whe's daughter. Mak Whe was my auntie, my mom's sister. I was jovial to see them. I hugged them and we talked for some moments. After that I moved to another coach. I saw my dad sitting with his arms wide spread on the shoulder of the couch. His legs were crossed. He wore sky blue t-shirt. My dad was smiling at me. Not the cheesy kind of smile, but the smile of a father to a daughter. The glimpse of pride at the corner of his smirking lips.