Najib Tun Razak is the Prime and the Finance Minister

I nailed it. I passed the interview. Some lucky how, I got the job as a stringer. Stringer for anyone who is not familiar with the definition is:

A journalist who works for a publication or news service on a part- time basis to cover a particular town or area and paid space rates. Merriam Webster Dictionary

So basically, it’s a freelance reporter job covering certain areas, in my case it is Negeri Sembilan the playground of culture. However the part of the state which is still not taken and vacant for me to ponder and indulge myself into is yet to be known, subject to availability. The reporter is paid according to the rate of the story that is written.

Not much different from the previous newspaper publication company that I worked before, this time it is at the government convenience. Do you find this fascinating? I’m moving from a global racist community to narrow minded supporters. How inspiring.. This is the time I can prove the semangat kemelayuan in me...well that was what the guy who interviewed me said. Not sure if he was being sarcastic or he was genuinely trying to pump up the nationalism from inside this weak heart. I couldn’t care less. I was busy calculating the cheap pay in my head.

In half time of the session I realized that I wasn’t really sure if I want to do it or not. Those late night calls, crime scenes, press conferences, politics and what not. However, I do appreciate the free gifts given to the reporters in any events. I remember getting a lot of souvenirs back then when I was in that line. I am confused. The pay is not rewarding but the experience is what I have been dreaming of- ever. Money was not the reason I look for when I first asked for the job, but now it has become the motive for me to contemplate.

I haven’t called the guy for a yes yet.( Note that I only put yes here because no was not in the option at all) I told him I think about it first. I want to sleep over the decision and I think I was lucky enough because the guy said he will wait for me to call. For an inexperienced writer such I, I think he is a very kind and considerate guy or maybe he is desperate looking for a worker or maybe vice versa.

Husband said go for it. My dad said it’s a low pay, what’s the use? Two reasonable answers from the two most important man in my life. Thanks, but you both are not helping.

So I decided..I will call him tomorrow for a yes. This time is a not that happy yes. It is an uncertain yes but not a desperate yes. Please mind your word. I want this and I can do this. I should be happy to be offered with this. A friend told me she has to produce a story in her interview, I didn’t. Luck was with me all the way that day, although all the readings and general knowledge digging did come in handy. I know the 2011 cabinet for a start, which is seriously a joke.

Headlines anyone?

Let see whether I succeed in finishing this entry after more than ten give-ups..So I have a new headline for this time but I think I’ll note it later at the end of this piece. Yes, this is a lame method to ensure that anyone who happens to stumble on reading this would be triggered to linger a tad longer to ponder and read my heart out to the very last full stop. I have always thought blogging is cool thus I started my own with the qualm optimism that maybe I can be considered cool by people too. See I can just simplify the whole describing-the-audience thing by using the plural ‘friends’ here but I figured by using ‘people’ would complement the sense of authority as if I was read and acknowledged by a larger demography. I deleted ‘public’ earlier because it sounded unattached and this piece is in no need of formality.

So then after almost 3 years, indeed I was read, even better I was acknowledged too. I was so overwhelmed that it took me a while to realize that all my only 15 readers were my close friends and that some of them tagged my blog as boring and too emotional. Some even told me that I should consider writing about good foods, places and travelling. My use of words were too heavy, it wasn’t something fun and relaxing to read and it lacked visual images and so the remarks continues..Although I also received good responses and grammatical corrections here and there I must admit that I was momentarily demoralized pausing my eager and diverting it to other means of virtual social connections. I had fun for a while with that twitter and what not but ever since, this rusty brain has always been waiting to pour it’s inside out into literature.

I adore properly choreographed words, ridiculously seeing myself arranging my own words I tend to overlook the conveniences of the readers. I guess I can be quite selfish in that sense sometimes and I am so lack of the techniques to write well, so bear with me.. Not that I don’t want to write features about delicacies or places, I don’t travel much. I can’t get out of the country because I got blacklisted passport plus I don’t think I can engage emotionally with foods. However, I do get quite emotional from the high calorie foods consumed and I think I can further elaborate on that. Every time I set the tip of my neurons blindly on the keyboard I’ll be gushed with expressions merely describing the murky shadows that clouding my ability to juice out contentment and jot about it. Hence I was read emotionally.

So finally I realized that maybe because of those sad and gloomy emotions which constitute 65% of my heart were the reasons why I wanted to write from the first place. Maybe because I am having hard times expressing that side of me to others that I have to put it in forms of words and it felt so good every time I did it. I got the courage to say it out loud here when outside I have failed myself for being so timid. Nonetheless, I have now decided to refresh my notions and to balance the equality of my ranging emotions preventing myself from being deeply indulged in the not-so-happy-thoughts that I usually greased myself with. After all, life is too short to not to be happy. I am fixed, smiling and happier now than I was before . Well I think I just found my headline, there you go!

The Wrong Ideas

1. When someone put right/left signal wanting to get in your lane of the road.

It’s a sign for you to force down your pedal and quickly head your car close to the car in front so that he can’t get in the lane.

2. When you didn’t say anything just because you don’t want to embarrass that person who ignorantly cut the long queue which you are patiently waiting without looking at your face.

It’s like a test for him to check if anyone would say anything if he stand there, he would wait for a couple of minutes and if no voice heard, so it’s ok la for him to cut your line.

3. When you offer chewing gum or sweets to a person who mouth is stink as stale kari ayam.

He/She thinks that you are interested for a conversation.

4. When you plan earlier that day to just sit at your desk and put the most serious face expression you can ever do because you had a bad day and you just don’t feel like chit-chatting with you officemates as usual.

They would still hang around your desk, asking and talking and trying to give a solution to your problem just because you are not talking to them and they somehow feel responsible to cheer you up.

5. I am a Muslim.

Then you are a racist. Your people feel that other races are inferior. You are normally shallow and your people can be extreme when expressing their religious thoughts and actions and some of them are even radical. It’s everywhere in the mass media.

p/s: collective experiences.

My story of Atok and Mak

It was 4.45pm at exact when Akak's phone rang with Mak's name appearing on her rusty hand phone screen. We were just about walking towards the parking lot giggling and laughing for some reason I can’t recalled. With the usual rush of suspense every time we received both Mak or Ayah's call, she picked up her phone trying to verbalize as proper as possible."Ati, Anis kau kat mane?..balik kampung skang jugak, atuk ko da meninggal dunia" Ayah shocked us with that short phrase, yet akak was in the state of confusion.."hah...atuk mane yah??" she foolishly asking. "Atok Razak kau la..atok mana lagi?" Ayah answered with a higher tone.."balik skang jugak ok.." that was his last words before he hung up. Akak looked at me and told me the same thing Ayah said with teary eyes and shivering voice. Immediately Atok's images flashed vividly into my mental representation, I was in complete shock and temporarily helpless of controlling my emotions, our eyes were wet of grief."jom nis, kite balik skang.."akak trying to control her emotion to think straight...I turned on the ignition, and rammed the car as fast as possible back to my house to pack our stuffs.

I was downhearted and disconsolate when we arrived home, rushing to pack our things, we immediately dashed out towards our cars. We were in silence all the way back, comprehending the turmoil in each others' head. We arrived Seremban around 6.45pm and quickly fetched some things at home mentioned by Mak earlier. After packing Mak's things we then rushed back to Jelebu. Jenazah Atok was still at his solitary stay in a place called Purun somewhere in Jelebu. We arrived just about after Maghrib and the place was full with close relatives and friends. Gloomy ambiance..I entered the place with very slow paces..Atok's cold body was wholly covered with kain batik and everyone surrounding Atok calmly residing the Surah Yassin continuously. I went to my grandmother and calming her.."bukak kain tu pegi tengok Atok awak puas-puas.." her mouth was still mumbling of words I can’t catched..I opened up the cloth covering his face not hoping to see the usual face who has always greeted me with silly smiles and serious questions. There were no words that could describe that moment. He was alone when he fell on his face and suffocating to breathe. There were bruises all over his face proving what Mak description of his death was right. As if he was paralyzed he didn't have the strength to get up on his feet again. It was said by the person who found him that he was in that position for quite some time, I can't bear knowing for how long..God knows..He wasn't breathing anymore, when found.

I kissed his icy cheek left and right and his forehead; I just can’t hold myself at that time and was silently bursting tears. Finally I got to hug and kiss Atok but my Atok wasn’t there anymore to feel me, there was only his stiff body. All his life, he has been a very strict person..He was a one in a million man. He went his own way with his usual military stubborn attitude and expressions. Atok was independent, he never showed his weaknesses to anyone even to his own family. It was his ego I assumed. At the age of 81, he would still wore his rugged shirt and jeans and drove his four wheeled drive Suzuki Pajero back to Jelebu from Seremban to take care of his kolam ikan and dusun buah. Three times he fainted while driving alone and the car recklessly smashed the roadside divider and again he was left alone unconsciously before someone stopped and checked on him. Silently I was telling myself that one day maybe Atok would carelessly spend his final moments similarly this way, indeed he did.

Tears and gloomy expressions escorted Atok’s departure that evening, Mak’s caught my attention. Never I have seen Mak in tears, she was always either laughing humorously or in anger of our foolish doings, but that evening witnessed Mak’s softer side. I was touched. Random thoughts of Mak crossed my mind, Mak brought us up with a different way of motherhood. She was not like any other mom, She doesn’t hug or kiss us or say she loves us. Not that she doesn’t love her kids, kissing and hugging are just not her things. Instead, everyday of her life she would woke up every morning at 5am without fail making sure everything was ready before we got up for school. Her life is about her family, to describe this is beyond words. Growing up I have always been the little rascal, hence the bruises on my thighs or sometimes hanger shaped red marks on my legs or body. Nonetheless, those marks would ended up as something interesting for me to share with some close friends at school and we would laughed our arse away. I have always been impressed of Mak for her patience of taking care of Ayah and each 7 of us. I also thank her for all the beatings; I grew up not being a sissy. On the other hand, I’m longing for her motherly touch. I want to know how does it feel to hug her and letting know how much she means to me, nothing I can do would trade the things she has done for me and the rest. It wasn’t only me, even the rest of us don’t have the guts to do it, all of us were more worried of her responds plus the feeling of uneasy doing something that is not usual to her. Truthfully, I think Mak is feeling the same way of us but her feelings are locked inside her ego of expressing her sensitivity to her children.

Never I blame her or perceived her as a failure in what she's doing. Every each of us have always understand her and we thank Ayah for his reasonable explanations and the parental advice that he has always guided us. He is the truest example of a father. Mak's anger is calmly soothed by his patience and loving. We are blessed with a father who is not only respectable by others but also sensitive of our feelings. I'm 28 this year, Abang is 30 and Akak is turning 29, by time our responsibilities as the leaders are getting practical and more obvious. Without noticing, I put a big loving hope in me and the rest to make sure that we all don't have to wait to see Mak in Atok’s condition to finally have the chance to feel her warmth.

two thousand and ten

Hey You,

How have you been? It has been 8 months since we last talked. Has anyone come to visit you or said things about you. Heck I am getting fatter by day, maybe because of those late night snacks routine and my effective stagnant exercise on the bed. ‘Still ok what..can fit into some clothes, no need to exercise lah!’ (Where am going with this..haiya) What about you? How you feeling lately? Is the feeling same as when I left you. It was dark and raining at that time. I remember the emotional chaos you have to get through to get where you are now. It’s a new year..are you still the same person?

Love Spells Pain.

This pain to endure is getting worse by day, hurtful that sometime regret and frustration are just the right descriptions that I can only think of. Yesterday felt just like our first date and now here we are again denying our feelings of the very thing that we shared together for the past months. For sometime, I have tried to hide this feeling away from him and act as calm as I can so he wouldn’t feel shaken or uneasy of my impulsive paranoia. Nevertheless, I am only human made from bones, flesh and blood. These sincere laughter and distressing tears are just another way of human expressionism towards emotions. Patience is what brought us this far, it is what we as a being always been tested of though we know the limitation of it can cause such violence and destruction. I’m confused of my own decision on whether to submit to his significant other’s request or to hold on tight to my faith and belief. This devotion I have upon this bond is slowly fading away hence admitting to their desire. I’m unwilingly nodding...reluctantly giving up…

The decision is already there, we both just have to gather all the strength we have and live on it. Suddenly, love alone is not enough for us to survive and I am just not the type of girl you fancy. Suddenly, our differences became crystal and everything reversed back to the time when a girl met a guy as total strangers, only this time the wall is strong enough to stand on its own.

Fly far away my dream

There’s a say, if there’s a will, there’s a way. I used to believe that. I used to wake up everyday and live on that understanding, especially if its regards on taking chances and having the slight opportunity to nurture the buds of happiness in my life.

These latter words of mine represent the fractions of my heart, cracked helplessly but have yet to fall to the ground. I am not surprised though, we both have well acknowledged this. But we have agreed to let time decide for it. Its not that he don’t care, I know he does only to stumbled himself into this clutter mess. I am in a mess of mind myself. Nonetheless, I refused to let paranoia take control of me; I was almost lost to them yesterday. Thanks for several people who were wise enough to slap me hard on my face with their words of reality. I owe you guys.

Why is it so hard for me this time to let the thoughts in my head to just flow away straight onto this white virtual paper? A certified psychologist once told me to learn to let things out, if I find it hard to do it verbally, write it down on a letter or on a note. At least I am not keeping all the thoughts to myself and driving myself and the people around me nuts. Well, it’s not as easy as it looks like.

Things haven’t been so good the past two days, forgive me for my harshness the other day. I failed to curb my emotions from running wild, in result of that, foolish questions and expressions came out utterly from me. Things wouldn’t turn out that way if between both are able to handle this issue more sensibly. I should have known this will happen one day, yet still we were too happy to admit it neither do I want to live in denial. We were way passed that. We both have our own stand and belief and nor toleration can be an answer to this caught up in the middle issue.

Having to be realy loved and the opportunity to love and care the person back in return is such a wonderful feeling for me. Despite all the shit that we went through and all the demoralizing pressures from the outsiders, I somehow have faith in the tenderness of your caring love. Let me secretly be on my own, for I have a quest of understanding and accepting the very concern of yours which is to always consider that love and religion is two different things.