You are currently browsing the monthly archive for November 2007.

I wish that there’re no lizards. So I won’t be afraid to pee in the middle of the night without checking on the toilet ceiling and walls. So I can freely put my hand into the mailbox to get my mails without suddenly jumping. So I won’t be troubled to take out the trash. So I can sleep soundly at night by the coolness of my bedroom wall. And their eyes, their eyes are just…

How I wish and wish and wish but its still there.

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I realized one day that my brother Adam sleeps late at night. A boy at 12 should not sleep at 12 midnight or 1 in the morning. During my time, mother will force me to sleep at 10 pm, right after MacGyver or The A-Team. Occasionally, father will sneak me out from the bedroom later at night to watch Eddie Lawson racing Freddie Spencer or even Ultimate Warrior kicking Hulk Hogan’s ass and of course watching Eric Cantona’s magic while wearing the white Admiral jersey. That was then.

A few months back I asked mother, “Why is Adam sleeping late? Unless there are special occasions in the morning, 1 am is not the right bedtime for a kid his age. Do you remember when I was his age?”

Mother replied, “Back then you have all the time you want with your father. Not Adam. If he sleeps early, the only time he’ll get to spend with your father is during the weekends, depending if your father is not working on weekends or if he’s not overseas. On weekdays, your father normally comes home at 11 pm, sometimes 12 am.”

I can’t help but to recall a fragment of my memory where a little version of me was at the front door almost every evening, jumping and shouting, “Abah balik! Abah balik!” while a grey 1985 Lancer F would cruise through the gate, into the porch. I asked again, “Father is nearing his retirement, why should he work so hard? It’s not like we really need the money.”

Mother replied again, “You know your father. You followed him to work so many times. He loves his job. People at work love him. 30 years of doing what he loves, and in another 2 he’s going to stop. What do you think?”

I don’t want to think. Is that even an answer to my question? I walked away.

I took a peek at my father’s bedroom. I saw father cuddling Adam, laughing. Both are enjoying the moment. I smiled.

Congratulations Adam on the 5As for UPSR! I really hope that you’ll save the RM100 I gave you into your education fund, rather than spending it on a laser guided BB Desert Eagle or something like that.

Judy was brought up
in a house full of dreams
Judy was taught not
to cry out in vain

Judy believed that
she was better in fact
And she deserves another
pat on the back

Judy was make to believe
that all they say was real
And what we say wasn’t
such a big deal

Judy was being judgmental
Judy looked so gentle
Judy said, “You are so little”
“… and I see you as being brittle”

Judy, how I am disgruntled
I thought you were being subtle
A sudden blow which is fatal
Oh Judy, you are being critical

Judy lived merrily
without a care in the world
Everyone around her
seems to “understands” the girl

One day, under gloom pale sun
Judy sat alone, and alone for a long while
cogitating and finally realize
how it really feels to cry

(4:49:01 PM, 17-Oct-2005)

Pak Amjal

Pak Amjal, the owner of Restoran Amjal at Jalan Pantai Baru. Near UM entrance, opposite KL hockey stadium. It caught my interest on how age is just a number when it comes to expressing ones belief.

Photo flickr credit: idlethink

I’m a stranger who doesn’t know his place
Wondering deep how your colour taste
Can’t promise that one and all can be pleased
Searching for the rightful grace

I’m a stranger wanting to go to a place
Where you will throw away the unsmiling face
Cigarette buds on a craked crystal tray
Differences keeps us closer in some case

I’m a stranger who found a new place
Where your sweetness will often touch my face
And all that I ever want is to stay
Hoping that this feeling is not just a phase

(1:08:50 PM, 20-Feb-2006)

The sun shone brightly, it was morning
A voice telling me to stop staring at the stars

For one day my weirdo will come to me

This entry is in regards of dA’s recent entry.

A few weeks ago, during Ramadhan, me, Jim, Lam and Buk were having drinks at Swenson’s Subang. Obviously it was at night. Topic of conversation was polygamy. Some supports, some not. We all agree that polygamy is allowed in Islam. Jim heated up the conversation by saying that in these times, it is almost impossible to find fairness in men. I refuse to oppose something that is permitted by my religion, my belief. Well, like AJ said, polygamy is way better than illicit affairs. We argued.

Suddenly Buk said, “Aku tak paham kenapa orang luar kecoh sangat pasal isu poligami”

We looked at each other in silence. What was he saying?

Buk continued, “Orang Kelantan tak kecoh pun pasal poligami. Kita orang hidup aman damai jer”

Realizing that I’m from KL, Jim was from Shah Alam, and we were in Subang at that moment, we beat Buk up, chopped him to pieces and feed his remains to the dogs.

No. I didn’t do those things but just imagine the cheeks Buk have by labeling us as orang luar at our own turf. Damn. To date, that was the rudest thing anybody had ever said to me, I think.

I am obsessive. I used to log in and watch. Watching the words, the images, the updates even though there are none, scrolling up and down. Hours gone by just like that, glued on to a certain page. It made me feel sick but at the same time satisfied, waiting for the next fix. It became a routine. A disorder. Obsessive compulsive. A freak. A weirdo. An illness.

Until I deleted it. Please don’t let me be that again, for I am weak.