mati

Malam ini, saya teringatkan mati.
Kematian sungguh jarang sekali berlaku dalam kehidupan saya.
Saya pernah melihat kain kapan putih yang membaluti jenazah cuma tiga kali.
Itupun sewaktu saya masih kecil.

Pathetic.

Kali pertama, saya ingat saya duduk di atas riba Mother dalam rumah kampung. Emotionless. Tak takut pun.
Kali kedua, saya sudah besar sedikit. Saya sempat menyingkap di sebalik tabir untuk curi-curi melihat proses memandikan jenazah. Kemudian, saya kembali bermain.
Kali ketiga merupakan kematian moyang saya.

Moyang saya bukanlah seorang yang asing bagi saya. Father merupakan cucu yang paling rapat dengan beliau, maka Father selalu menjemput moyang saya untuk tinggal bersama.

Tidak tahulah mengapa, tetapi saya kurang senang dengan moyang saya. Mungkin sebab saya masih kecil, saya tak suka melihat orang tua kurus yang berkedut-kedut. Mungkin sebab saya sedang meningkat remaja (padahal baru 9 tahun), saya tidak suka moyang saya memerhatikan gerak geri saya. Mungkin juga sebab saya seorang yang agak 'cold' dalam keluarga, saya tidak pernah berborak dengan moyang saya. Pendek kata, I couldn't care less about her.

Sepanjang tahun-tahun terakhir kehidupan beliau, beliau rotate tinggal di rumah adik-beradik Father saya sebab Father dalam proses tukar tempat kerja.

Kemudian, beliau jatuh sakit lalu pulang ke kampung. Nature took its course dan beliau pun meninggal dunia.

Kami pulang ke kampung. Father tentu sekali devastated. Saya? Saya tiada perasaan. Tak menangis pun. Perlu ditolak-tolak untuk mencium mayat beliau.

Tapi sejujurnya, kematian beliau tidak membawa apa-apa makna pada saya. I didn't feel the emotional attachment.

What was wrong with me, I don't know. (Sekarang menyesal sebab saya sepatutnya sayang dan melayan beliau dengan baik. Kini saya takut jika cucu-cucu saya pula tidak sayang pada saya)

Beberapa tahun kemudian, atuk saya pula meninggal dunia. Saya tidak tahu pun beliau sudah pergi sebab tiada siapa beritahu saya. Apabila berita sampai ke pengetahuan saya, sekali lagi saya emotionless. Nak buat macam mana, saya tidak pernah rapat dengan beliau. I have no significant memories with him.

Dalam hati saya, saya tak faham pun apa significant merahsiakan kematian beliau daripada saya. It's not like it's going to affect me or my studies that much.


Malam ini, saya bertanya pada diri sendiri, kenapa. Kenapa saya tidak ada hubungan dengan my extended family macam orang lain. Kenapa saya tidak rapat dengan atuk dan nenek saya (maternal and paternal sides). Kenapa saya rasa macam mereka semua unrelated to me.

Semasa saya kecil, lebih kurang umur 9-10 tahun, ada satu fasa di mana saya seringkali, terutamanya sebelum tidur, saya terbayangkan jika Mother meninggal dunia, bagaimanakah saya hendak meneruskan kehidupan saya. Saya terlalu engross dengan imaginasi tersebut, malam saya akan diakhiri dengan tangisan yang teresak-esak.
Mother pernah tanya, "Kamu kenapa?" Saya tidak menjawab dan sedaya upaya berhenti menangis dan tidur. Mother tak pernah tahu the real reason why I cried at nights.

Ini buktinya, saya bukanlah seorang kanak-kanak yang stoic.

Saya juga pernah menangis berhari-hari apabila mendapat tahu Father membuang kucing pertama saya and her kittens. Waktu itu, saya sering berharapkan she could find her way home. Saya selalu juga anticipate setiap kali hendak pergi ke pasar supaya dapat terserempak dengan kucing itu.
Itulah kucing yang paling saya sayang sekali. Dan sejak itu juga, saya sudah tidak berani untuk menyayangi kucing secara berlebihan sebab takut hati saya sakit kalau apa-apa terjadi kepada mereka. Sekarang, bagi saya, they are just pets.

I miss you, Adra. I'm sorry Father disowned you. :(

Berbeza dengan sekarang, saya dapati saya mudah menitiskan air mata even for people I don't know. Tengok gambar-gambar pun sudah boleh membuat hati saya sayu. Menonton program Bersamamu TV3, menonton filem sedih, menonton berita, mendengar cerita orang, membaca suratkhabar tentang pencuri dan pembunuh pun saya boleh menangis untuk mereka (sebab kasihan sangat). Sekarang, dengan orang-orang biasa, dengan barang-barang pun saya boleh rasa a sense of attachment to them.

Kini, saya telah dewasa dan saya menyesal and the only way I can make up for it is by praying for them. Kadang-kadang, saya rasa agak peliklah juga sebab I am practically praying for strangers, y'know. Saya cuma tahu mereka merupakan darah daging saya, itu saja. But the least I could do is to doa for them because that's all they have, anak cucu, me. Saya berharap, lepas saya meninggal dunia nanti, anak cucu saya akan selalu menyedekahkan ayat-ayat Al-Quran dan mendoakan untuk saya.

Kalaulah ada mesin merentas masa, saya ingin sekali melawat diri saya sewaktu kecil dan bagi satu dua tamparan sebab I was very bitter and egoistic. Saya ingin mengajar diri saya, if people aren't nice to me, that does not mean I don't have to be nice to them. If people aren't nice to me, that doesn't mean they are not nice people. If people aren't nice to me, let it go, don't hold grudges, dammit! Different people have different ways to show their love and kindness.

Seriously, I wish I knew that earlier.

Beware my children, these would be one of the first lessons that I will make sure they get into your heads.
(Sekarang saya sudah mula menyimpan the lists of 'The Things I Want My Children To Know'. Lain kali saya akan cuba transcribe list itu dalam bentuk tulisan supaya saya tidak lupa.)

baik.

If you could read between the lines, you'd know things have been rough for my boyfriend and I for the last few weeks.

I found myself to constantly question why we met if we were not meant to be. When you are clouded with bad thoughts, it's hard to remember what made him attractive in the first place. When you are surrounded by women who manage to hook up with handsome, successful, almost perfect men, you'd be asking, 'Why can't I get someone like him?'

The thing about being in a relationship is, we can't over-analyse and under-analyse the person we are with. Nobody will meet the criterias if you over-analyse and if you under-analyse, you'd end up regretting for marrying the wrong person.

Me, for example, always succeed to find his faults when I am mad. I probably have thrown thousands of the most hurtful things I could think of at him, too. My boyfriend, he is not romantic by action and no way could he woo me with his written words (they always sound funny instead of the intended warm, fuzzy feeling I should feel). Physically, he does not turn heads. He drives a humble national car and he could be clumsy and forgetful at times. His work is unpredictable, sometimes, he works for more than 12 hours a day hence making me begging for his attention. He often gets sick and when he does, he tends to ignore everything and everyone around him. He is so sick, he is scheduled to undergo a minor surgery in one month time, which I am so glad he is finally agreeing to fix his health.

Bak kata orang, apalah yang engkau nampak dekat dia ni! (I bet that's what my parents must be thinking every single day)

I see all his flaws when I turn on my 'comparing' mode. To his defence, he told me I will never be satisfied if I didn't stop comparing. I said, that's one of the ways to improve oneself. It's what I call- a healthy competition. Then, he started to compare himself with me, which contradicted with his main point earlier, "Have you ever seen me comparing you with other women?" he asked. Because I like to have the last say, my comeback was, "But if you did, I would still be better than the rest of them, wouldn't I?" (To get the maximum effect, mesti menjawab dengan laju dan berwajah yakin, diakhiri dengan jelingan tajam, haha)
That sure shut him up.

So, two nights ago, as usual, he arrived late to his hometown. I was on the phone with him before we both heard his father knocked on his door, at two in the morning. He quickly excused himself and hung up. A few minutes later, an SMS arrived, "I'm sorry but ayah I sakit dada. Dia suruh I tolong urutkan."

People in Malaysia should learn how to seek for professional medical help instead of using self-therapy.

Anyway, the next morning, I remembered what made him so attractive for the first few months we were getting to know each other: His kindness. Not necessarily his kindness towards me, but towards the people around him as well. I also like the fact that he is responsible, mature and stable. All the qualities that could not be seen by the naked eyes, but through my careful observation beyond his looks.

Appreciate what you have and be happy.

Me: Ayah you dah okay? Kenapa ayah you tak suruh mak you atau adik you tolong urutkan?
Him: Semua orang depend on me. I kan yang paling sulung.
Me: You are so kind-lah, I hope my children will inherit your kindness.
Him: I hope my children will be as fair, as beautiful and as smart as you.
Me: Why can't they be smart like you? You tak pandai ke?
Him: Iye, pandai macam I pun boleh juga. I wish kita dapat anak soleh.
Me: Saya harap, satu hari nanti, parents I boleh nampak kebaikan you. I am so glad I can see it even without you showing.
Him: You pun baik hati juga macam parents you...

:)

scar.

I will be in Paris in a few weeks. Excited, I was, last night, before I went to bed, to be specific, before I recalled back what happened the last time I was in the so-called most romantic city in the world.

I never realized how traumatised I am by the experience. Last night, I wish it didn't happen and I absolutely refuse to go through the ordeal again. I remember how relieved I was when I saw the first familiar face after being surrounded by strangers in a foreign country. I remember how I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I remember how much I wanted to tell but I was too embarassed by my mistakes. I remember the lessons I've learnt and the promise I made to myself.


I kept searching the details in my mind but somehow, I managed to bury them deep.


What if I didn't do what I did to save myself? I could have lost my virginity that day, hell, I could have been raped that day. And it could have been worse than it sounds, lose my virginity, get raped, by a drunk man, by a total stranger, who is 20 years my senior, during a vacation, in a country that most people speak French, when I was there all by myself.


I am surprised myself by how calm I was, soon afterwards. I didn't run but I had everything planned in my head. I am not stupid and I consider myself to be a pretty good observant. If things didn't go my way, I knew what I'd do, what item to grab to defend myself, I took mental notes about where the exits were, I remembered how I got there, I knew my hotel address in case I got lost, I was careful to watch him without staring to make sure he didn't put anything alien into my drinks.


I didn't tell anyone what really happened because perhaps, I was the one to blame. Perhaps, I led him. I remember how pleasant I was, I trusted him, I thought he was just being friendly. Although he seemed decent, although he introduced me to his friends, he was under the influence of alcohol. I didn't want to offend him, I didn't want to trigger his outrageous behaviour. I thought he understood until he started to touch me inappropriately. That's when I finally spoke up, I told him 'No' using my most stern voice and most serious tone. The message did get through. He apologized and tried to coax me to stay but I was firm with my decision, I just wanted to go back to my room, I'd survive skipping the dinner he was preparing for me.


I am the sort of person who is open to new things. Now I know not to just welcome any opportunities that come my way or I might invite the wrong experience to scar me for life.

misteri

I'm getting suspicious, I think I am actually not so anonymous in this blog! I've only confessed to three people so far (and I made them promise to keep it as a secret) but how come there are more than these three who know bits and pieces about me which, I'm sure, have never been mentioned in this blog. Mencurigakan. Dah jadi curious case dah ni...

Speaking of anonymity, what happens to that blogger? I stopped reading the blog a week ago because I was too busy (and not to mention it's getting boring for my liking), and when I finally have the time, it's gone! I suspect somebody must have known his/ her true identity. Spill, please! No wonder one reader thought I was him/ her. Here, I want to emphasize again, I am not. Seriously, cerita betul, tak tipu.

I clicked to view his/ her complete profile and saw other blog links, one of them is http://ezpzxs.blogspot.com/ which contains his/ her previous blogposts. Another is http://purepiah.blogspot.com/ but I couldn't access it because I am not an invited reader. When I clicked on the 'View my complete profile' again, no links are left on the page anymore. What mystery is this! I am lost...

Now I sound like some freaky stalker.

I was supposed to write about something else but my mind was distracted by the above, now I've lost my train of thoughts. Til next time, then.

game

Lego is like Tetris. They are both simple games and have been around for ages but we are still hooked to them.

When I was a small girl, I didn't have many toys because Father liked to feed us with books while Mother thought, it was better to buy us stationeries. I think, we get our talents in Arts from Mother but none of us children can draw potraits like her.

We had Lego sets too but we can hardly build anything with the limited numbers of cubes.
It was mainly our faults because we always lost them and my parents got fed up and stopped buying us Lego.

And so, I became a teenager and had the freedom to spend my money without anyone restricting. Once, I bought a Lego set and gave it to my friend for her sixteenth birthday.

I was supposed to give the above card for my boyfriend for his birthday. I find it difficult to buy something for the opposite gender. I chose this card because it's simple, manly enough and cute.

The cashier was friendly, as she took the card to be scanned, she asked, "Who is it for?"

Me: (Blushed and smiles) It's for my boyfriend.
Cashier: Why do you choose this card? Do you think he completes your heart?
Me: (Laughs) No. It's only a game, yknow. (Lego)
Cashier: Good one! (Laughs) A game, huh? Where are you from?
Me: Me? I'm from Malaysia.
Cashier: Are you a Muslim?
Me: Yes, I am.
Cashier: Why don't you cover your head?
Me: Because I decide not to wear it yet.
Cashier: Nevermind. What's important is in the heart. I am a Muslim too. I am from Algeria.

The card is still with me because...Because perhaps, my heart is not completed yet.




Life is full of surprises.
My latest surprise was a few minutes ago, when I read an anonymous comment left in my previous post, asking me whether I'm the infamous Piah Zadora.

:) Thank you for making me laugh. (I am still laughing) But I'm sorry to disappoint you, I am not Piah Zadora. What makes you think I am?

miss.

Life is not a fairytale. Yes, tell me something I don't know. But I still want the ideal life.
It's like believing in God. Even though I cannot see him, I could talk to Him and question Him.

That is probably my greatest strength. Believing in something what most think impossible.




I am sad and I am being ignored.
And I am getting used to it.




My sister was getting braces for her crooked teeth, she went to see a dentist but the dentist referred her to another dentist because he thought my sister's teeth were "too complicated" to be fixed.
I laughed. I still think it's funny. It's fun to tease your sister.

She is in her twenties but she still has one or two milk teeth and that's what keeping her from getting the braces on earlier. She is sooo my little sister. Gigi pun tak mature lagi.

As much as I want to make fun of her appearance, we all know my sister is better looking than me. I used to think, at least I am smarter than her, because Mother thought so, but now I've realized, I am not, because she will be probably making more money than I do. That's okay.

When my niece was a baby, I've always thought she was a beautiful baby. But when she started to school, her skin became dark, gigi rongak, comot, what happened to my cute niece, I thought. Now, she is 10 years old and blooming fast and she is looking prettier and prettier, I confess, I am intimidated by her looks.
Because she has always thought I was beautiful. Soon, she will realize the only reason she thinks I am is because I am nice to her. Haha. I know, because I've gone through that phase before, when everyone I thought was beautiful is no longer appealing to me.

I like to bring her jalan-jalan. I used to hate it when people thought she was my daughter. Now, I miss treating her like my daughter. She is more like a sister now.





This post is all over the place. Perhaps, I am simply missing my family. Or my boyfriend. Or someone. Anybody.