Monday, April 23, 2007

You're tagged!

Here are my top 3 disorders:

1. I have a thing for words. It seems, whatever I do, I’ll try to describe the moment or feelings in my head. And it’s very frustrating if I can’t get it right. Such a permanent disease.

2. I love acronyms. I don’t know how or why. But it occurs to me that when I like things or people, I’ll give them acronyms. Say, JM as in Jason Mraz… CP as in yes, Coldplay. It kind of drives my sisters crazy because I start to give acronyms after their favourite artists, too. Like, CBR as in Corinne Bailey Rae and DR as in Damien Rice. Let’s see, the reason why I do this maybe because I feel more familiar with such calling and that it sounds easier… well, doesn’t it? Haha, I don’t know. The rest doesn’t seem to agree. They just don't get it, otherwise.

3. I crave for food while other girls prefer shopping for clothes. Take my sisters for example. Yup, they all love new dresses and stuff while I could be fairly unaffected. Not to question my sexual orientation or what, but I don’t know why I’m not so crazy about getting a new wardrobe. Hmm, maybe not, as of yet. In the meantime, I swear I would give up a brand new shirt to something called food! No kidding ;-)

So to those who care to share your "behavioral disorders", you're tagged!

orderly disordered,


Sweet Childhood

I like kids. Yes, they can be pretty handful sometimes. But I love them anyway. I remember being a kid myself. I remember all the feelings and the moments. I always have a good laugh upon recalling the childhood with my family and friends. Those moments are meaninglessly funny and important to me all the same.

So when I look at the kids these days, I could somewhat see the differences and the similarities. But most of them are pretty much the same. Just a different breed year by year, a much cleverer one. And of course, luckier. The demands are higher and much more expensive. But that’s what the kids all do. We used to demand “the impossibles” and whine until we get what we wanted. What differs is the things that they have now and the things that we had back then. As much as we envy the comfort that they are living in now, but in truth, we were kids once. We felt and did the same thing.

Though I’m particular about teaching some lessons on morality, I don’t like seeing all the pain and disappointment that some pass on to some innocent little kid who didn’t ask for it and who doesn’t deserve it. Being a kid myself once, I remember all those feelings; the disappointment we felt when promises were broken and the sad feeling when we failed at something. Those bitter moments now seem like a beautiful letdown to me. The only time I began to understand every other feelings, which is a wonderful thing.

What I also realized is that as my year goes, nothing is extraordinary to a child. Maybe when you are a kid, life is still full of wonder that there can be no real surprises. Or perhaps, children just adapt faster than adults. Thanks to current technologies and modern pressure, these newborn babies are ready to develop a smarter lifestyle than we think. I can’t imagine what the world looks like to them, the future babies. Could they be living on their own by the age 7 or 8? Haha.

One thing for sure, though. When I was a kid, I thought that my parents had some secret knowledge about how to keep me in line and bring me up alright. I thought that there was some kind of a great master plan to make me eat vegetables and go to my room when I was told. But I was wrong. I knew now as I watched some parents. I began to slowly understand that they were doing what every parent in the world does. Just winging it.

When it’s your own flesh and blood, you don’t have to think about doing the right thing. You just do it.

Still a kid,


Sunday, April 22, 2007


Boy, I can’t help it when I have nothing to worry about but music. There’s this sort of “happy mixture” of Coldplay’s X&Y going on in my head right now:

First, comes the Square One:

Is there anybody out there who
Is lost and hurt and lonely too
Are they bleeding all your colours into one?
And if you come undone
As if you've been run through
Some catapult it fired you
You wonder if your chance'll ever come
Or if you're stuck in square one

Then, there’s White Shadow to haunt me:

Maybe you'll get what you wanted
Maybe you'll stumble upon it
Everything you ever wanted in a permanent state
Maybe you'll know when you've seen it
Maybe if you say it you'll mean it
Maybe you'll find you're completed
In a permanent state, a permanent state

… and more Talk:

Are you lost or incomplete?
Do you feel like a puzzle, you can't find your missing piece?
Tell me how do you feel?
Well I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak
And they’re talking it to me

Finally, the not-so-hidden track of ‘Til Kingdom Come:

Hold my head inside your hands
I need someone who understands
I need someone, someone who hears
For you I've waited all these years

For you I'd wait 'Til Kingdom Come
Until my day my day is done
and say you'll come and set me free
just say you'll wait you'll wait for me

…I might as well think I’m drunk. Ick. Definitely.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Of "real" bad hair days

Speaking of bad hair days, there’s nothing unusual about it. Literally speaking, I have had bad hair days every now and then. Yes, we’re talking about real hair here, ay. Haha. Some days my hair is exceptionally gorgeous and other times it’s just mad (!) Ahh, why bother? It’s hardly sensible most of the time. For now, I just can’t wait for my hair to grow back. As in, really grow. The problem with my hair is that it’s stubborn. The curls are crazy at ends and I don’t know how Yana finds it adorable. She told me (or rather joked) that I could go modeling with that hair for Kerastas√®, which I think not. It’s not so “Kerastas√®”, as I wish it were. Just not fashionable enough to be…well, fashionable. Hmm.

So, as I was saying, I could not have wished for something better than having a well-trimmed, manageable hair. My sister suggests that I should go for some kind of a hair treatment someday, when I really have a great need for it. Just anytime but now. It seems like I might not need it now, but the desire to go for it is eating me up bit by bit every time I see myself in the mirror. My hair is freaking out, alright. And that kinda freaks me out too. Haha.

Say, if I were to have that dream hair of mine, how would it look like? (Hmm, I once thought of having a straight hair, but then, I might look boring with the plain mode.) So, maybe, here’s what I’ll do- I think when my hair is long enough, I would like to keep the curls and maintain the length. And of course, it has to be manageable. Duhh. Would I like to give it some colour? Sure, let’s give it some attitude…I think, rainbow looks cool. Haha. Just kidding. I’m still happy with the current black hair (which turns somewhat brownish when exposed to sunlight). I just like to keep it natural, otherwise.

Oh, have I thought of going bald? Yeah, a few times…but y’know, that only happens when you really wish you didn’t have any. Haha. Maybe, I would go for it if I weren’t so levelheaded. Uh, I’m not talking about Britney if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s going through a lot now, just a real tough time for her. So, we might as well just leave her alone at the moment, ay. I don’t want my happy hair story turn sad now. Lol.

All in all, there I’ve said it. Pretty much about my hair, that is- what’s hot and what’s not. But, that is not to say that I hate my hair altogether. It’s just something I would like to talk about, which frustrates me sometimes. I bet we all have something to say about ourselves that we are not so crazy about, huh? Maybe a lot more. Who knows, we can exchange tips- gimme the "super shampoo" and I’ll tell you how to bake pies. Haha, gosh, I’m rambling now. I know, I know. I’m just trying to be more positive towards my hair alright. I mean, I might love my hair one day.

I might love my hair one day. So help me God.

Ahh, it’s such a relief to pen the word otherwise- love, love, love…

lice free,


Tuesday, April 17, 2007


You smell like
- a smog.

You’re a coincidence
a rustling wind
a smorgasbord of smells
an infectious disease
you’re all those-
forgotten swifts.

You smell a lot-
like my sweet
musky like musk
minty like peppermint
as I breathe you in
through my millions
olfactory cells-

Thursday, April 12, 2007


I’ve gotta say writing is hard work.

Call me Miss Full-of-Excuses, but I’m not trying to make any right now. Better said, I’m running out of one. Smile.

So, about this whole thing called writing or blogging or whatever names you called for such thing that involves words through whatever means for this kind of journalism- it is hard work. Especially when you’re trying to write about something you really want to say. It is hard work.

But then again, even when you think you’ve written it down, it still doesn’t sound quite like it. Sometimes, not at all. It seems like you don’t know what exactly you want to write about, or rather think. No matter how hard your brain tries to recall that very moment- it just slips away. All of sudden. Like quick breeze; quietly carrying away whatever it is that is in your head and… Forever.

Well, sometimes if you’re lucky enough, those peculiar thoughts might swim around your head again, playing this “catch-me-if-you-can” sort of a game. I’m not sure if you have had encountered such thing, but I obviously do. It happens every now and then. I doubt if there’s any significant meaning in it, which I could care less to find out about myself, but it’s very frustrating when you really have something wonderful that comes through your mind and it goes away too soon before you realize you’re going to lose it!

Sigh. Could I have gone senile?

Say, when you think you’ve finally got it written, and you’re pretty sure it is it, you doubt whether you actually want it written out and be celebrated. By everyone. Or just by yourself. As much as you want the whole world to know such important thing, called “It”, you just don’t feel like telling anyone at some point. Such uncertainty.

So having said that, I think writing, that goes along with heart and mind, is really hard work. Enough said.

(…there, there, another beautiful excuse otherwise! )



Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Of evenings

Sitting here alone reminds me of old times. Of spending my evening at different places in the past. Usually around this hour, I would be sipping a cup of tea, taking a few shots in the rain and after, or just looking out of the window- you know, daydreaming about a lot of things. I like the sound of the raindrops, which are now beating against the window, fracturing the space into a surreal pointillistic painting. Heck, I feel like Van Gogh at the moment. Smile. Other times, in such unfamiliar situation, I do feel like I know these people, who just happen to pass me by. But of course, I don’t know them at all. Haha. Bet they are all looking at me crazy ay. Hmm, then, there comes the scenes and scents. Of movement and sound… the wood scent. I can still remember lingering on the wet dirt, which smells like perfume after rain. Refreshing and pristine. Sigh. Not anymore, I guess.

Ahh, forgetting and remembering become easy these days. So wonderfully easy. You know, as easy as being frustrated and feeling okay about it. it’s awfully strange, isn’t it?
Otherwise, I just realize how everything is connected to everything else. And that everything else ultimately brings me to God- Allah, the Almighty.

…I think I’m gonna have another cuppa. Life’s too sweet to sip just once.

Be well,

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Just Coldplay!

I love Coldplay. My long lost lovely band. They remind me of the old days. I’ve just listened to their latest album again after sometime, which is X&Y (released in 2005). It is unsurprisingly unusual. Compared to their previous one, The Rush of Blood to The Head (2002), their latest has simply changed a lot. Quite big a progress, I must say. Very much but not so. Hmm.

So, let’s see. Personally, I thought the whole song arrangement was nice. The music was consistent- not too much sound, yet not too mellow. It was a laudable piece of mixture. I was able to find the quietness in the midst of noise; through the lyrics. D’oh, such profound lines they composed. Brilliant work.

Alright. Perhaps, I must have had overanalyzed things. Sigh. I was just trying to see what is left for me after several years of change then. Or what kind of a person I’ve become. Whether I like the things I’ve gone through, or hate them. Simple as that. So, having listened to Coldplay is pretty much about listening to the old me. Sort of doing this self-evaluation kind of thing. Y’know, liking the newness of the change, or hating it. Otherwise, I’m just amazed at how these people can come up with such beautiful music? The sound, pretty much resembles everything that supports the tune and the lyrics, ultimately means life to the song. Uh, I’m talking to those who are able to see music as it is by the way. Hee.

A Message

My song is love
Love to the loveless shown
And it goes up
You don't have to be alone

Your heavy heart
Is made of stone
And it’s so hard to see you clearly
You don't have to be on your own
You don't have to be on your own

And I'm not gonna take it back
Well I'm not gonna say I don't mean that
You're the target that I'm aiming at
And I get that message home

My song is love
My song is love, unknown
And I'm on fire for you, clearly
You don't have to be alone
You don't have to be on your own

And I'm not gonna take it back
And I'm not gonna say I don't mean that
You're the target that I'm aiming at
But I'm nothing on my own
Got to get that message home

And I'm not gonna stand and wait
Not gonna leave it until its much too late
On a platform I'm gonna stand and say
That I'm nothing on my own
And I love you, please come home

My song is love, is love unknown
And I've got to get that message home

Sigh. I just love Coldplay.


Sunday, April 1, 2007


Thousands of feet below you
Though they be livid and dead as nails
Men went to battle grim and glad
As heads of the characters hammer through daisies
Children, they hate you, broken and mad
Consider. One bullet in 10000 kills a man.
Ask. Was so much expenditure justified
On the death of one so young and so silly
Lying under the olive trees, O world? O death?
upon myself
Indeed I have lost nothing
but all patriotic feeling
They’ve bought my tears and sought after my soul
Taken my pride that was once thick and bold
Have I found myself a life?
Yes- but why don’t I feel whole?
If ever I saw blessing in the atmosphere
Would you come breathe your life into me?
If ever I was found I would be happy
But now if now only.


Her brown face sparkled with tears
Whose glow shall wake the sky
The stars shall bend their voices
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
And eyes like gold shall shine
Through the salty snow where
Hopes and fears sinking deep
Running red beneath her feet.

This is a damned inhuman sort of war
The pilots sit among the clouds, quite sure
About the values he is fighting for
He can’t hear beyond his veil of sound
Or see the people on the weary ground
Only knows of the people creep
Like ants- and who cares if ants laugh or weep?

His lust runs yet and is unsatisfied
Waiting for the precise split-second to order fire
Proud of the skill; whilst the guns roar
This is indeed, a damned unnatural sort of war.

Reeds whisper
here in the morning
The sky shall groan and darken
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
For stony hearts of men:
God’s blood upon the spearhead
God’s love refused again.

But now as at the ending
The low is lifted high
The stars shall bend their voices
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
In praises of the child
By who’s decent among us
The worlds are reconciled.

And as for her alone
Through meeting her bouquet of death
She’s still alive; feels her body sweet
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother
Forcing to let her taste
Her own dark fear and pain
But out of breath-
She sees another child
dreaming of

one breeze
sucking the shingle
and three birds
in a wide sky
And she believes
No matter how stars bend all their voices
Or how these stones silently cry
But her eyes have permitted every colour
After the first death, there is no other…
No, there shall be, no other…