THE bum’s hEre

"You can’t dance and stay uptight…it’s a supernatural delight"…

Lurvaley song I tell you. I’ve probably said that a gazillion times but what-tha-heck. Anyway finally SOMETHING after prob a month or so (Boy that’s suuueerre felt long) in this to-be-expired blog. Darn it’s hard to type with long nails, I mean, try it. It’s seriously seriously a challenge. I get to (ha ha blah blah) go backspace so many times.

I need to get boots. And this Reebok shoes for gym. When’s the sale coming up? Or izzit already on? How’s the Bukheet-Thinggei Jusco going on anyway? Good?

It better be. I don’t hv to go all the way to MV or someplace kononnye *PHUH* to do my shopping. But I’ll wait till the whole ‘new-mall’ frenzy die away before doing my shopping. Then only SHYIOK.

Ooh..I’m starting college next year. *HUAHUAHUA* I know laaah.. the whole world started a decade earlier then me but I’ll be continuing my diploma and doing a’levels in HICT at the same time. Help Institute College of Technology aka S.I.T back then. Yep, dekat dengan rumah I je… Sorta bawah HELP jugak, tak payahlah I pegi jauh2 kan.

And uhm…ah….eee….eerr…everything’s going quite well at home. I’ve figured that my minds’ the size of a bottle-neck. Oh, and did you know that ‘Pant’s’, according to the English, are actually your UNDERpants? I don’t know how true that is but my std 5 English teacher did mention in. So we hv to say trousers or something like that. Or else all those measly mat salleh’s will laugh at you when you ter-slip it out of your mouth.

"I feel a lil whoozy."

That came from some dialogue in some show.

Alright, I’m getting a lil bored with my own writing here. I suck at this. SHAIT shait shait. Sigh.

I should seriously create a blog lah. A proper one. You know, blogspot and all that, those webbies just for blogs. But I’m inconsistent. Punyalah payah. Sheesh.

Ok so anyway, Merdeka’s just over. The whole family was pretty hyped up (yalar, we all bunch of over-enthusiastic, much much more pratriotic than the average M’sian…when we’re not even one. HaHa :P) So there’s not ONE, but TWO flags in our house ok. Papa punye kerja lah. All of us were just smacking our foreheads and rolling our eyes. He could’ve just SLEPT with the damn flag rite.

I come from an eccentric family..an overzealous mom..a dad who never stops going on n on about the values of life. We’re all a very vocal bunch. We speak what’s on our minds. We were brought up loving Barney the purple dinosaur, to be wildly enthusiastic (mom), to do things other people would be ashamed of doing, to be an individual. So you know, funny stuff happens every now and then. We’ve got a string of events that would get anyone if fits on laughter when we express in out. Or shake their heads at the incredulity of it. Lol. Either way, we surprised them.

Here’s one. It was the eve of Merdeka, about 5 years ago. Iman was just one. Still a baby, and Mama was spending a lot of time at home with her, singing, and dancing..imagining..n all that u do to one-year-olds. So mama took out the flag and pasang it outside on the porch lar. She then started to sing the ‘Jalur Gemilang’ song with Iman, trying to entertain her. (Iman’s first song was ‘Negaraku’ wei. Truly M’sian habis. Passport je S’pore. lol) The Ah Pek sebelah was outside and Mama said hi, and told him to look at the flag.He looked at mama, then to the flag, then at mama again and rushed back in.

Mom continued singing but when looking at the flag..reaching the chorus of the ‘Jalur Gemilang’ part…*jeng jeng jeng* the sing slowed down and came to a halt as she realised with deepest confusion. ‘Manalah jalur gemilang dia’. and the song died off abruptly. LOL.

She pasang the SINGAPORE flag outside the house!

Patutlah si Ah Pek tu takut semacam. ”TERRORIST! BETRAYER! What the heck was this woman trying to imply?! CALL THE COPS!” hahaha. He’s right though. Hehe.

Sooo yeah.. stuff like this happens to my family. It’s funny when u think back on it. It’s what makes my family different. We stand out although at times I’d desperately wish we were normal. But naaah..I like it like this.

It’s funny. It’s what makes us lovable and unforgettable. HeHE.

Listening to R.E.M (Everybody Hurts). Old songs make me go weak in the knees..Haha. I’m such an oldies freak. Simply adore ‘em. Songs that actually sings out tunes of painful truths everyone goes through everyday. Songs that drums the guitar with hurtful pleasure it fills you up with fulfillness so tender. We tend to forget sympathy and compassion..cuz we put our egos above anything else. It’s all bout being strong and making it. 21st century kan…..everyone’s an equal blah blah blah…stand on your own two feet and be independant. Work life out yourself, it’s all a challenge and no one’s gonna be bothered to look after your back anymore.

But still….I miss knowing I’d still have somebody to lean on to if I don’t make it. You know that old-school, retro-fied "I’ll be here whenever you need me", "We’ll be friends till the end", "I’ll pick you up whenever you fall" and all that corny crap? See it even sounds alien to me now! I mean, I know I’ll make it, that’s for sure (Insya-Allah). I have been doing it all by myself all these while. Being  streetsmart. But you know….Somehow I don’t want ppl to perceive me as weak when I take a step back just once in a while. When I take a breather and slump my shoulders. When I cry tonight. Does anyone care, anymore? Bother? Give two shits? Whatever you call it.

Where’s all that ‘lil bird flying it’s doggy friend that’s attached to a board on strings, flying it off to Never-Never Land or something like that?

"I’ll take the rain…"

Everyone’s so powerful nowadays…

"Everybody hurts…sometimes…"

We don’t allow ourselves to get hurt anymore. It’s all bout standing up and being strong, wiping those crystalised tears away and rising above our hurts.

But is it wrong to be human once in a while and let our tears…..just…flow?

Does it appear weak?

" I’m pushing an elephant up the stairs…"

" I’m looking for answers from the great beyond.."

I realise…. friends don’t tell me to "Let it go, Hannah..just go ahead and cry". Not anymore. Apparently it’s substituted with "C’mon lar woman, be strong. You’ve gotta handle this, it’s no big deal ok. This is nothing man."

Apparently crying doesn’t help you anymore because you appear weak. And you can’t possibly want to appear weak amongst your peers right. That’s just downright…ridiculous! It’s all about the IMAGE in town! IMAGE IMAGE IMAGE!

"Sometimes…everybody cries"

HAHA. I’m emo-ing (as Cass would call it) for no apparent reason. I’ve no reason whatsoever to feel emo-fied. But I am naturally a very emotional, sensitive, sentimental and…well lets just say I feel for things strongly, easily. It’s even in my name, "Hannah" means "kesayangan". Meaning "care" or "love". (Tgk, *all points finger to Mama and Papa*) So yes. Somehow this particular ‘characteristic’s’ built in me,uh..how do you say it…very deeply. *nervous laugh*

But I’m contented. Yes I am. Life’s full of it’s littlest pleasure, it is so generous with what it has to offer us. It’s awesome. Just gorgeous. Got back from a programme from Endau-Rompin, Peta. Ppl I handled were from the Curriculum Department Centre, Ministry of Education. Maths and Science Section. MUAHAHAha. THE exact ppl we, students, hv been cursing for the past 11 years of tormented school life.

But they turned out to be freaking sporting wei. Even the oldies!!You’ll hear the lamest, sickest jokes and they act up like lil kids it’s hard to imagine them being in charge of the school curriculum, confined behind computers everyday. Maybe it’s the time where they can actually ‘let go’. Oh the dramatism. There’s this group of men who made up a song for me. "Keroncong untuk Hannah", with a guitar. Punyelah LO-mantic. HAHAH.

Nice ppl…real nice. You can see they’re the type that works hard and plays hard. There’s a distinct touch of proffesionalism in them. Kept in touch with some of em. Even with this guy…….*smiles shyly*

AH well, I always meet great ppl whenever I go for one of these jobs. Even come across one or two ‘holiday romance’ or rather…’work romance’? moments. But not worth taking them seriously. I move around too much. Still.. It’s nice to know somebody regards you…differently.

I guess life is different for me. My peers go to college, party, meet new ppl, dress up, purchase newbies, hv crushes, rotate boyfriends, decipher what’s hot and not, image, image, image. Hmm. *pause* I never got through that stage. And probably never will. I’m too happy trekking in the jungle, pulling out leeches from my legs………….(No, I take that back. It can be pretty disgusting *shudder*), mandi-ing sungai, meeting new ppl from all walks of life on a regular basis, being close to God’s greatest creations, being loved with the ppl with the ’same kepala’ as I hv , and just being away from the city.

City life’s great. Temporarily. Don’t get me wrong, I’m brought up a city girl. Brought up with..well….not exactly a silver spoon in my mouth but probably close. Comfort’s around me everywhere. The basic necessities you know. I love shopping, I love going to the movies, SHOES, hanging out with friends, going mamak, SHOES, make-up, SHOES. I’m still pretty much your everyday type of girl. Typical. Loves flowers. The pathetically romantic type. But I do hv to retreat back to Mother-gorgeous-Nature every now and then. Just to remind me to be a ‘mediocre’ amidst all the technology, gadgets, and the fucked up community you confront and hv to layan with everyday. Everyone IS a mediocre whether you’re Bill Gates or Jabba the Hutt. Ur with the Asli’s when in the forest, adapt yourself. It’s so comfortable, they’re really the nicest ppl you’d ever meet. No one would bat an eyelid if I "duduk terkangkang."(Regardless whether I’m around the Asli’s or not lah) You stay up late drinking home-made teh tarik kurang manis surrounded by the natural darkness of the trees looming above your heads at night…hear the cicadas calling out love sounds to its mates, the elephants hurrumphed in intensity of finding a few good bamboos to chew on..the smell of fresh freedom..oh, that smell. If you could describe green that would just be IT. And when you look up, SubhanAllah, the skies! It was the first night when Gary came up the hall to where I was and exclaimed excitedly, "The sky is gorgeous tonight," his eyes lit up with excitement. And how right he was…I rushed out and looked up. And instantly all the breath in me was taken away for a moment or two. The millions, millions of stars were EVERYWHERE. You could see the freaking MILKYWAY!

My heart was thumping when I looked at it. I’ve never seen anything so…naturally, heart-rendearingly, mind-bogglingly, intensifyingly, wickedly, beautiful.

This is what Allah s.w.t has got to offer us. What hv we, humans, done to our freaking selves?

What corrupted nature have you let seep in your veins, ppl, what culture hv you allowed to fire in your hearts?

What pathetic views do you live by, what kind of faith, if any, do you speak of?

What dress do you wear? What words do you stutter? What nonsensical, discriminative, impertubable acts do you swallow?

What freaking savants do you follow?

Every once in a while I remind myself; the world isn’t getting any younger. And so am I. I think far, I know that. Too far, as most would proclaim for I am too young to think of such depressing random thoughts that seems to take away my ‘youthful happiness’. But I don’t feel that way. That’s just me. I love taking risks, I hv molded a pathway, a guide for me to follow but…yeah, all I can do is MOLD my future. No guarantee it would turn out that way. Everything is in Allah s.w.t’s hands. And whenever He puts me in the toughest positions, whenever I think He’s is being unfair to me, all I can think that makes me go through just one more step ahead of others is that "Allah won’t put me through things I can’t go through". Or else I’d die. Won’t I? I would’ve just died if He didn’t believe I could do it. He could take my soul away if it was just too painful for me to bear. There’s a reason why we’re still living even though He puts us through all kinds of misery and what might seems to be despairingly life-threatening, heart-breaking shits; because He believes in us. He knows we can do it. So why should WE melebih-lebih and lose faith in ourselves?

There I go again. Another long lecture. Muahaha. BEAR with me ppl. You know how ’scarily passionate’ I can be about ..whatever I care deeply about lah.

But I am compassionate, I overreact, and I stand for my rights.

I am not a follower, I am a leader. I do not to conform to other people’s ‘values’ just to be accepted.

I am, thus, me.

I am freaking proud of myself.

Much-Loved Moments

* Talking ‘philosophy’ with Gary under the stars after a hard days work.

* Singing old 90’s corny songs with Wan in the car.

* Looking at Iman sleep. (she actually looks innocent enough)

* Going for a movie with Waipz. Only.

* Staring at the millions of stars from in a boat. Or anywhere else for that matter.

* Hugging San.

* Looking at old pics.

* Rummaging through old bags and taking out old, sentimental stuff that makes u cry n laugh at the same time.

* Walking in the dark surrounded by nature.

* Drinking teh tarik and reading the papers, yelling, "LIGHTS OFF IN TEN MINS!" to the participants every ten mins.

* Reading the Quran.

* Joking around with Mama.

* Laughing at Mama.

* Talking to the ‘canteen auntie’s’/Mak angkats.

* Asking Yasin to swing me from the hammock.

* Looking at ppl smiling at me.

* Hugging nenek.

* Seeing Iman’s scrawly writings of ‘Hannah’ on the walls at home. And (some of em), with a flower beside it.

* Laughing with Shermaine and Yean after a loooooong time.

* Having a decent/not-so-decent conversation with San.

* Singing with San.

* Getting ready to go out with Waipz.

* Meeting new ppl and being loved.

* Looking in the mirror, and smile.

I’ve learned many things during the Petronas programme. It feels weird to be in a different position. Back then I’ve been to countless programmes and camps, workshops, everything and I was the participant. Now role reversal mode. Feels funny yet…exciting in a way.

So now ppl address me as ‘Kak’ even though some of ‘em are probably older than me. I met peeps from Kedah, Penang, and Perak. Met wonderful ppl from UTP. Met Wan, my colleague. Met ambitious, hardworking, sincere teachers. Met Soolian, Shukreen. Met the forest ranger, the ever-so-patient foresters and the suka-mengacau-ku, Zul, the boatman.

It’s the second job but the first one’s with South Africans so I really wouldn’t know how the locals would perceive me. But really, life is so ultimately gorgeous. Wan turned out to be the big brother I never had. Gary’s like daddy no.2 and hey, the UTP students aren’t all that whacked up geeky dudes we all assume to be after all. Haha. They’re nuts I tell you.

Im, (I know u like me. It’s too obvious. LOL) the crazy photographer to takes pics of ppl when they’re not noticing. The ‘pembersih’. He gives ‘inspiring’ lectures on the cleanliness of the toilet everyday. It’s all the faci’s could do to hold our laughter at the back of the dewan. Im darlin, we DO take cleanliness seriously. *MUAHAHAHAHAHAH* "lubang tandas kecik sgt kot!!!"

Tun Hanif, as christened by me and Key, Mr. ‘Hot Stuff’. Bakal-bakal isteri dia berlambak. FUH. Eh, empat skali boleh kan? *nyehehe*

Hazim, Kak Kema- org yang paling lembut dan bersopan-santun. Berbudi bahasa. Sgt disayangi olehku.

Khaled- respect you habis ‘bang’. The leader, he’s an inspiration to me. Kalau boleh I nak kahwin org mcm u lar. BuKAN U tau, org MCM u :P. Imam bila solat, takes initiative when it comes to responsibilities. Walaupun kekurangan itu serba ada (siapa takde kan), he’s possibly the most confident person I know. Despite everything. Khaled, u RAWK!

Koul-U org Sudan. U org banyak baik. I heart u bro. Boleh puasa masa programme. *pui fuk*

Eena, Key, Syieffa- "Pesanan dari penaja-Tolong makan lebih cepat dan mulut tu jaga siket eh." lol. RIndu u all byk byk dah.

Mr. Bong, the translator- I takkan marah u lagi lar. Punye lar baik hati budak ni masa Blind Trail. Biar budak tu jatuh dlm longkang. JGn BAGI TAU ada longkang depan dia! Aduhaaai che bang ni..

Faci’s and coordinators for ‘Our World’ with PETRONAS programme.

It was great. Participants was wonderful. I even hv this lil form 2 kid from Langkawi who msges me till today. Tanya ‘akak dah mkn ke belum’ and all that. Makes u realize the simplicities yet how much that effect of being nice can affect one so much. It’s all simple, really. Keep in touch. No two-faced crap bout it, no wall in front of u to put up being ‘cool’ or ‘updated’. These ppl I’ve met were tremendously mediocre in every way. No need to dress in a particular way, or to think this or that way’s cool. Such individualism. Yet so intellectual. The way they think, how they’d like to learn, God. They surprise me with the ques they ask. Ppl here would rather hide then sound stupid and act all ‘lookatmelookatme-fied’ ‘howcoolami’. It’s disappointing how I end up comparing city ppl to the ones in who live outside the Klang Valley. Oh, we KNOW who’s sincere, we know who’s nice. We know a put up facade when we see one.

The teachers that joined the trip were wonderful. I met counsellors and hv learned so much from them. There was this teacher who was constantly smiling- such a pleasant smile on his face, with the wrinkles beside his eyes. En Zainal Abidin. And En. Hj. Tarmizi. They’d talk to me and Wan bout their jobs. Walaupun dah habis sekolah (me), its like now I truly understand the role of counsellors in schools. How important they are. Their level of patience and understanding is absurd. I’d prob hit the child within the first two mins of the session. LOL.

Hey, the kids loved me though. *grins*

Ah well, Pak Chu was just oh-so-bloody awesome. And so’s his wife. Great ppl, great ppl I tell u. The perks on being in this job. I love it.

Wan was…well, Wan. Awesome dude. Smart Ass. Hardworking. Loves bullying me though. Jaga you Wan….

N oh yeah, a word of warning- never tell the participants your real age when they ask. When ur 18 lar. Cuz some would be older than you. N if they’d find out then respect pun ‘kureng’ lar kan. Haha. And with the help of my fellow UTP-ians, I ended up being 24 one day, and married at 22 with two kids another. And apparently with a very loving husband to take care of ‘em while I’m away. *PFFT* telan je lah korang..and I thought I was gullible.

Ah well, next is Endau-Rompin. No, not Selai. The other side. It’s adults though. I’ve never really handled them in a big bunch. INsya-Allah it’ll go well. Next month. I’m really in DIRE need to get away from Klang now. Detest city life. The ppl. The fakes. Not all lar, but I dare say, most. Ppl always wanna be ‘cool’ here. So fake lah you all. Get a life. Tsk. No, there are NO WAVES in Port Klang. So those three quarter surfer shorts won’t be of any apparent use to you. Haijo. *rolls eyes*

Siket-siket to boleh lar..but pray it doesn’t ‘help’ you appear stupid.

So anyway it’s night time now. Toodles.

I’m a certified walking talking catastrophe. Or driving talking catastrophe

So just like any other normal day I was picking Iman up from school with mama’s Volvo. Kereta punya lar besar. Dan panjang. So parking time, (nih lar part yang mcm nak rak punya aku belajar) I was like, "Ok hannah, u gotta put the car UP. Nanti kena kereta papa lagi dier marah." Apparently I thought I was being noble ok, such a thoughtful daughter. Sekali kena bapak punya kereta dah cukuplah kan takkan nak risk lagi kot. But apparently NOT larh. The car dah di-park dengan sengetnya so I asked my lil sister to get out first. THEN I ter-press then minyak terlebih kot. Ya Allah punyalah BENGONG.

The car rammed straight to the wall, INto the drain.

That’s it larh, dead. DEAD I tell u, I’d rather DIE.

So yes, I yelled for Iman to call papa and started crying. He came out shouting and yelling and blah blah blah. I said sorry but duh, of course it didn’t cut it. Dah nak buat apa, the front part of the car’s in the longkang ready what. Dahlah Volvo tu berat giler. I can’t even get out cuz my side of the door’s right beside the wall.

I wasn’t half weeping u know, just crying. Not sobbing, though I know I should be. So I tried, (just to appear really guilty) but apparently one can’t force oneself in such a havoc situation you know. Tsk. Extra body f.y.i.

(The car looks bad. Like a lopsided piece of terung. Eh Volvo look like terung what. Long long like that. MUAHAHAHA)

Soo..yada yada yada..I went up to my room. Then only felt the sakit hati-ness. But not SO sad lar, cuz now I hv a reason to not drive anymore. HAHAHAH. Gawd I loathe being asked to drive. There’s a reason why I didn’t want to take my license in the first place U KNOW. *rolls eyes*

The neighbour from behind came and we heaved and pushed the car back to it’s position with his four-wheel drive and well, good lar. Not so bad. Few scratches and front light there pecah lar. Nothing really MAJOR u know. But kinda bad also right……*meekly* I spent half the day in my room. My body was aching with guilt and such sadness it hurts wei. I’d prefer physical pain to hurt anytime. Dahlah I ni bengong punye budak, emotional giler. SECOND bloody time. Skali cukup ah kalau accident, just for a wrap up. Tapi tsk, terlebih rezeki kot. Lol.

Was in my room when papa knocked the door. (I fell asleep crying. It’s an excruciatingly exhausting job u know) But that’s my dad, he marah giler-giler pun he’ll end up saying sorry or try to comfort us. He just patted me roughly and said, "Takpe ok, now u know.." and something else bout minyak and break that I can’t quite catch cuz I wasn’t facing him what (Queen of Merajuk) My persistency’s equivalent to a baby’s. HAH. That bad. No compromise, nothing. Papa just kissed my cheek and said the worst thing possible that could come out from his mouth.

"Don’t stop driving ok."

OMFG. He left the room. He left me open-mouthed. I wanted to cry again weeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiihhhhhhhh!!!!

Maybe I should saw my legs off or something. Is there any way to get that man lose faith in my unpredictablirrasionalirreverentsuicidal driving skills? Any suggestions? I doubt I can sprain my foot for life.

So that’s that. *huge sigh* I’ll stick to manning that chug-chug-toot-toot lar. Unless there’s someone arranging his suicidal attempt on the railway tracks, I doubt I’d be able to create any more problem with the modes of transportation. I am in DIRE need of an aspirin here. Purple hair. I woke up and looked in the mirror. Felt like Marilyn Monroe. I look like a freakin FISH. BLAH.

Oh and Transformer’s a total waste of time. I was honestly trying to look interested or rather, really trying to concentrate so I can keep up with the storyline but damn funny lar. The robots keep posing and saying ‘Megatron.’ Or Megathron. Something like that. I ended up changing my seating positions every 5 mins. Shahman was like, ‘Action in front, comedy at the side’. Ass. I thought Surf Up’s boring but really, this is waaaaay beyond boring-ity. At least the penguins were cute. *Shrugs*

I’m waiting for those romantic British comedies you know, like Love Actually or Something’s Gotta Give (though that’s the US) but I guess it’s not a big thing now compared to those ridiculously frightening scared-the-shit-outta-me horror and action movies. Not a big fan of em. Was watching Arnold Shwazeneggar’s (however you spell it) ‘Predator’ the night before and heck, that’s even better than Trans-for-freaking-mers. I nih typical girl larh Flowers, chocolates, books, poems..the whole works.

Can’t wait to go Perak. This Sunday. I NEED to get outta here.

"Don’t stop driving ok?"

*WAILS*

I’m probably the luckiest girl alive. 3 more jobs doing what I love most. 2 in Matang, Perak (I’ve never heard of that place) next month..(which is tomorrow lar, come to think of it) and one more Endau Rompin in Aug. The first is called the Training of Trainers with some uni and others all belum diketahui lagi. I hope I don’t get seriously bratty participants. Thank God they’re kids. I’d hv a reason to whack them if anything were to happen.

Part- time camp coodinator/ facilitator, part- time student. Life couldn’t be any better. I must say, this has been a pretty good year for me (so far). Hope I didn’t speak to soon. CHOI. Touch wood touch wood. (!!!)

Everyone’s grown up and rushing around lar. It’s scary. Atikah’s in Perlis already, Arlina kat Btg. Berjuntai, Waipz in Form 6, San in Taylors, Shermaine’s in Methodist College….everyone’s so busy with studies. I’m studying too lar…but it’s not so…pressurizing. I mean, once a week. Stressed? (Ha) And I got my results back. It’s pretty good. I’m happy. The worst thing is I might be getting the diploma next year April and I’d have to go back to S’pore to cont my studies for two years. Then maybe Adelaide. Then no more laid- back carefree life as a a part-timer anything! *gasp* dang.

Life’s been too easy and mundane nowadays. Morning, therapy. Pick Iman up. And if the mood arises, drive to Jusco (or walk) just to maybe purchase (another) pair of footwear. Then read, or help Papa. Then either tuition or gym. Then mamak if I feel hungry. (I know, what’s the point after working out right. But boo u, it’s my life) U know I teach this kid, Alif. Freaking cute guy, adorable mcm nak mampus. He looks like Alam from ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ (minus the arms). And safe to say, he’s my best student yet. HE CAN DO SUBTRACTIONS WITHOUT MAKING A MISTAKE! It took me 5 months to teach him to do that. (I’m not a very good nor patient teacher) I could’ve kissed him when he finally got it. Do you know how effing MAFAN and HARD it is to teach kids?! Sometimes you feel like slapping them but when they give u that ‘kesian’ look it’s like…"Oh ok, macam ni lar…." And you don’t mind teaching them all over again. Even though it’s probably the most daunting task you’ve ever performed.

Sigh. I love lil kiddos. They make life worth living. And they see things in such a funny way. Haha.

I really should savour the moments I have this year. Plenty of time with the two things I love; kids and nature. I have this creepy feeling that life’s not gonna be so easy for me in years to come. Maybe God’s giving me enough time to re-cap bout my life kot. Hmph. Maybe.

Anyway I shall be off. It’s Saturday and I hv class today. Ta!

Therapy is:

a) spotting gorgeous good shoes

b) getting shoegasm

c) buying gorgeous good shoes

d) caressing gorgeous good shoes

e) wearing gorgeous good shoes

f) feeling gorgeous in gorgeous good shoes

g) doing sudoku puzzles in the ‘Star’ paper in Starbucks

Now honestly, nothing could make a girl happier than buying a good pair of ‘gorgeous good shoes’. *Sloppy smile*. My possible fastest shoe shopping spree would prob me a minute and a half. Well the store was closing, I gotta rush. Spot it, Grab your Size, Walk around in it, BUY IT.

*Shoes oh bloody shoes….*

Anyway, this weeks topic. Passion. Was arguing with Irwin bout this yesterday when he said living in luxury is his passion. Well it’s more like a dream to me. Passion’s a heavy word u know, it’s equivalent amount of ‘heaviness’ is like the word ‘love’. Dangerous. Passion means sacrificing, working ur ha-ass off to get that goal u want to achieve. How many people would really wanna do that? Passion. And i’m not talking bout sexual intercourse here, ha bloody ha. That’s a literal passion, we’re not going into that.

I think being filthy rich is like, u know, a ‘norm’,(it’s like if you don’t expect to be rich in the future then something’s wrong with you) something to look forward to, something to hope. A few would seriously try to really ‘get there’ u know, though most would prob try and when finding out that ‘working hard’ would probably get u nowhere, eventually give up. But still hang on a wriggly string cuz heck, a teeny part of u says  that ‘miracles do happen’. *SNORTS* And as so i’ve found out, men, generally, want to live a wealthy life. Every single dude i’ve met want this. I hv this ex who says he wants to hv a million in his bank before getting married. *pfft* his wife-to-be has to wait. And this other ex who’s pretty money-minded. (ok larh, very) I hv the right mind to date somebody who’d just be comfortable living a…comfortable life I tell u. Everyone’s too busy chasing success and wealth. It’s good lar, I didn’t say it’s bad…at least u’ve got something to work on to but can’t anybody be contented with the simplicities of life? Oh, i’ve been told i’m a classic girl with an old-fashioned state of mind. Don’t mind me. I still get shocked when I see muslims drinking fervently in cafe’s etc..etc. It makes me sick.

Maybe I’m borned in the wrong era kot.

I know everyone wants to lead a comfortable life and get the best for their families. And usually, it comes with a price. But then there at that point we see how one views ‘comfort’. What’s your definition of comfort? Happily living in a 3-and a half floor mansion? Is that comfort? Luxury? If living in luxury were to bring a hell lotta problems with me, AND taking time away from my family (working my tut tut off everyday to achieve that so-called ‘comfort’ zone) then why BOTHER. Hell, what’s important is that you’re stable. Enough finances for kids, home expenses, cars, those once in a while holidays n blah blah blah. Cukuplah kan. Susah me-ma-dai. (Wah, chun wei. Big B.M words. I feel intellectual already)

It’s not that I’m dampening ur spirits of being ridiculously rich and marrying the sons of dato’s or something but it is the people that crave for the materialism of life, are the people that ‘forgets’. Forget God, forget the initial purpose of being ‘rich’. (to live a comfortable life with your family, but unfortunately, u don’t hv TIME for your dear ones) Forget to lay low, forget being compassionate. Forget being sensitive, forget mediocre. Forget being simple, forget the joy of laughter (without the help of alcohol). Forget wearing kain batik (haha), forget to buy ur telekung/ sejadah. Forget to eat breakfast, forget health. Forget immediate families, forget parents. Forget to pray. Forget time. Forget ‘Dooms’s Day’. Forget clarity. Forget to have time for yourself.

Because you’re too busy trying looking up-to-date. Too busy wanting to look pretty. Too busy wanting that dress. Too busy buying Cartier diamonds. Maintaining that image. To be polished, buffed, waxed, stripped, pushed, pulled, slimmed, tousled, manicured, unblemished, and immacutely perfect. And to look good you need money ainnit?

So you know..unless you don’t forget, then go ahead. Be successful. Enjoy your life if it takes Tiffany’s to permanently be attached to your earlobes or something.

Being passionate about..anything for that matter, is good.. But if it takes over u then u ‘forget’. What’s the point of living if you ‘forget’?

Was eating this huge weird alphabet pasta and yesterdays kuah ikan laksa (t’ganu style) with milk and lil’ tomatoes and black pepper. Ew, but sedap. Then there was a plastic container in front of me with curry puffs n I thought of the last time I’ve had a really good one. You know, the ones that make you go , ‘Eh, sedap giler ah’ and your mouth’ll be too full to say anything else cuz you’ll practically stuff the whole thing up in your face. HAha. So I took the risk and hoped that this particular curry puff that’s going to be chomped n shredded in my laksa-ed cum pasta mouth would be that particular satisfying one.

But no. Boleh tahan lar. At least the filling’s potatoes and not keledek. I don’t like that, it tastes too sweet and the textures rough so it’s like, eew. But, ok lar, nak buat apa. Rezeki kan.

After finally settling my curiosities of battling with foods, my mind flew back to yesterdays incident. Kelakar wei. HAHAHAHAH. I want to laugh thinking bout it You. Will. Never. Guess. What. Happened.

*the most longest, daunting silence u’ve ever heard. imagined*

I MANNED A FREAKIN TRAIN!!!!!!!

Haha! The KTM train, I’m serious! Dead serious *_* THE MOST AWESOMEST THING I’VE EVER DONE. Well, sorta. After a long time. I mean, who the HECk drove a train before? Eh? Eh? (besides the ppl who actually work there lar. Tsk)

San couldn’t believe it. She was silent throughout the whole conversation as I was laughing at the incredulity of it. She thought I wasn’t serious. But yeah, it was just so funny. I find it funny. LOL.

Well it started like this ok. I was on my way back from gym, train’s damn lambat but I’m used to it. I got it the first cabin, or gerabak, whatever u call it and so happened it was my lucky day. Empty. I paced myself to jump and swing around every pole and leave my essence everyway. HAHAH. Well yeah, it’s empty and too tempting lar. You want to feel like the whole train’s yours right.

ANYWAY, just as I was about to swing around the first pole on my right hand side, the door to my extreme right opened. Oh uh. The conductor caught me mid-posed, with my butt slightly above the seat and right hand stretched out, this whole plethora of shiny poles in front of me. Ceh, malu only. But nvm, his mind was obviously somewhere else. He walked towards me and just smiled and check the door on my left. Door no. 4, I still remember. (Of course)

Dang, it’s hard to type with long nails. But nvm. Anyway he kept walking back and forth checking the door and I was getting irritated that heck, the train’s ALREADY slow, it came late, and now he’s taking my time like as if he’s King Kong or something (although he HAS a rather rotund stomach *shrugs*). Then he asked me whether I could ‘tolong’ him and of course me being me, I’m halfway to deaf-zone, repeated, ‘turun?’ and he rolled his eyes and say ‘tolong’, ‘Boleh awak tolong saya tak?’

And I jumped off the seat (cuz of the high-packed energy from dancing in gym) and followed him to the drivers tiny room. It has so many cute lil knobs and there were flashes of tiny red and green thingies, it looks like Christmas. He told me what to do and I actually realized that he’s asking me to control the whole damn train! HAHAHAHAH. Those innocent lives at the back hv got NO IDEA that they just might’ve, might have I tell you, got themselves in the wrong hands tonight. You lucky things, you. *beams*

So he told me what to do, and blah blah blah…he went back to check the poor door no.4 and I was alone in the room. Awesome. The train tracks were bright in front of me and the TRAIN WAS CHUGGING!!!(if, it could chug) UNDER MY HANDS. Haha.

But, you know, he came back. I was slightly elated cuz dang, I was having such a good time man, thinking of the names of my future railway company (Hannah’s railways-deathways, Chug-Chug, TOOT-TOOT) He said thanks, and I was like jumping around like a rabbit that caught it’s cute bob of a tail on fire and said *grinning*, ‘Bestnyer’.

And he said, ‘Duduk sini lar’ as he waved his hand to a chair beside me. I gv a small ‘WOOT!’ and sat down on the chair next too him which was lopsided but takpe, I didn’t care to complain. We talked, he looks like this mid-age man, with glasses and moustache, and had a slight paunch (I told you). I wasn’t worried that he’d rape me or something, cuz he seems decent, and looks decent, and smart ppl don’t rape other ppl. He was taking his masters in Logistics and is interested in psychology too. See San, I can’t be making this up. I’m not creative enough. (Then only she believed me) Tsk.

So finally, when the train reached Klang station I told him thanx and all that crap. But the door behind me just wouldn’t budge an inch. Dang. And started lar, I panicked and all that, started blabbering like a dugong. He said it’s ok and opened the side door. HAH. I felt stupid but was ecsatic. I WENT OUT THROUGH THE CONDUCTORS DOOR! haha. Omg, wait. Ppl might think of other yucky things. EEEEWWWW. Ok, luckily no one saw me going out.

But yeah, I was happy. Twas, a cool night. Gym was also good, super-fun that night. We had regathon, which is like a combination of Latin, Bhangra, Hip Hop and Dangdut. I strutted my stuff. Hell I RAWK! Muahaha!

So this month itself I manned a boat, and a train. And I still suck on the road. I’m waiting for my chance in the flying sector now. *Grins, pops curry puff in mouth*

"His head was on her lap. They were quiet for what seemed like a long time but everything that needed to be said had been unverbally mentioned in this silenced moment. Nothing needed to be uttered. There was a mutual understanding. A bond. She touched his hair. She carressed his warm forehead. And her eyes bored his face. Her fingers followed her gaze, she lined his distinctive features. She observed every freckle, the corners of his eyes, the prominence of his nose, the shape of his articulated lips. Perfect.

His head was facing the window and thought nothing could go wrong at this very moment. What happened in the past- then- is over and forgotten with. Nothing need be touched or mentioned. He looked up at her face and smiled a small smile. The curve of his lips gave a sharp pang that sliced through her heart. The inner pain was overwhelming, it was a long time since she saw that smile. She almost teared but she stopped herself-just.

For him, she would do anything.

He needed her and he knows she’s giving all she’s got for him. To be strong for him. A promise is a promise. She broke it once -and never again would she hurt………would she hurt him.

His hair was soft in her hands as her turned back to face the horizons. It was beautiful-a picturesque view. Just like her. His heart, his soul would live for her.

She once thought that she could control her mind, her decisions, her movements, her plans, her future. But she was a careless soul -she forgot she had a heart. A gentle reminder in a form of pain and loneliness tapped her back and when she turned around, she knew there was no turning back. One would be inhumane if one loses ones care for another. For that’s the only thing that separates us from animals- compassion. Being in denial didn’t do her, or anyone any justice. Her heart was adamant with it’s choices, it fought with her mind mercilessly when it comes to making decisions. "Be strong, be strong" was what everyone she confronted to told her to be. It became a mantra, a daily chant she repeated every single night before she shuts her eyes, for only then would the past allow itself to float and linger in her restless mind. And she tried to be strong. She did. What she never realised was that denial was shadowing her all the way- all these while. How long would she be able to go against herself? How long would she be fighting a losing battle? How long was she going to hurt, hurt, hurt others who cared?

He carefully took her right hand in his without moving his face and placed it on his heart. He covered-hugged it with both hands as if protecting a precious, priceless gem. She leaned forward and rest her head on his stomach. Such familiarity.

A tear formed in her eyes as her mind took a reciprocal visit back to the past and it lingered every so lightly on her eyelash. She blinked to stop the tears from overflowing, too much- she didn’t want to be weak, be vulnerable in front of him, anymore-but one escaped. It fell on his shirt and it seeped right through. He felt it on his skin.

His heart went all out for her. He knew she loved him.

He started getting up slowly to avoid hurting her and so did she. He took one look at her and parted every strand of her hair back into place with a soft, knowing smile. She looked at him and wondered, whether this is going to work out this time. Them.

He looked at her, touched the sides of her wet eyes.

She hugged him with a fierce surge in her body. He felt her sincerity. He felt her pain she went through. He felt her strong determination. He’d take care of her real proper. He would, this time. And he teared.

Nothing need be said.

Nothing need be said at all."