Maximum Entropy

I’m in lack of proper words to justly describe my life at the moment. Any dissonance between claim and fact becomes trivial as my system steadily evolves toward maximum entropy. Even if I do try to keep a positive mind, my eyes still have to endure this terrible sight of my so-called abode resembling quite remarkably a vagabond tribe’s caravan, which is exactly what I am right now- a vagabond. My ears have to endure alternating promising and crushing news which can be likened to that old chipsmore ad on tv (“sekejap ade, sekejap takde”). My arms and legs have become jelly from chronic jitters.

What a way to start your new academic year, being kicked out of the room you just moved into and not knowing where you’re supposed to move to. It’s starting to become a biennial thing, if you remember my staying-in-guys’-floor misadventure two years back. Thank God two years from now I won’t be living in this hostel anymore. I say, these Russians are really good at ticking people off and act real sensible about it. But again, I’m reserving myself a hard jumping kick in the head for not being able to speak super-fluent Russian and exert myself more.

For all the brouhaha about Russian students not getting the best medical education, I see part of the problem being the significant number of students coming here not to study medicine so much as to wallow in a 6-year vacation with hope of scoring some Russian girls (guys?) along the way. I do wonder why they ever decided to take medicine in the first place- why not some light, short courses that wouldn’t pop their brain with so many facts to digest, and without the heavy accountability of dealing with life and death matters? I may sound harsh, but if you hear half of the stories of it, you’ll be thinking along the same lines too.

Another big part of the problem lies quite plainly in the language barrier. I’ve seen many lecturers who can’t express themselves very well in English but when they switch to Russian, 3 hours of class won’t seem to be enough. After four years the problem of understanding greatly lessens, but I still have a whole lot to work on. And then there are some lecturers who insist on speaking English, and it usually means they can teach less than what they are able to in their native language. Obviously, it affects the practical part as well, the area where everything is wholly conducted in Russian.

So, that is to say, my Russian needs some speedy salvation.

My first two weeks here have been spent in the department of psychiatry, and you only need to look at the patients here to realise that your problems are of microscopic value. If there is one disease that I wish to be spared from, it’s the disease of the mind, the conscience, the essence that makes you aware of who you are in this world. I find the discipline fascinating, but I just can’t imagine myself as a psychiatrist in the future (although my mother has suggested it would suit me, I have no idea why. Hehe). But well, you never know.

I got a little bit of everything from my 2-month break at home this time. My father, as always, sort of kept a constant mental check on the things that I had wished to do when I got back, which, as I lived in Russia, obviously involved cravings of food origin- food I craved to eat, restaurants I craved to go to. He would always think about what we really wanted before making any decisions, which I can’t even begin to express how much I really appreciate it (darn, I’ve got tears in my eyes now).

Meanwhile, I discovered that I’ve grown to enjoy going shopping with my mother, even though she herself sort of dislike shopping by nature. Haha. I used to prefer going with my father when we were younger, as my father would be more readily to indulge in our whims and fancies compared to my mother, who would choose whatever the cheapest to come off the racks. My father, being a man, however, doesn’t seem to quite fit into the shopping scene of a twenty-something daughter anymore (for the most part) and nowadays we’ll just spare him the torment and go by ourselves, me and my sister, or with mother.

My mother is an excellent listener, and for two months she became my ear for all the compiled stories over the past year, the person I confided in with all my problems and fears, the one I asked for advice in personal matters. I reckon you would have made a great psychiatrist, mak. Hehe.

Am I turning this into a tribute-to-family entry? Haha why not. I love my brothers and sisters, even if some days I just feel like kicking them hard for doing things that irritate me (thank God our physical fighting days are over). My elder sister’s in Japan as I write this, and I have to say, I do miss her presence here. We never failed to have a major disastrous fight whenever we were back in home soil, and even though I used to vow to remember that whenever we got back here, to sort of resist being nice to her when she started being nice to me, I would always forget it in the end. And now I don’t even have the privilege anymore, and things aren’t that much fun. Fortunately I’m in company of such great friends (but hold it, today’s is not a tribute-to-friends entry!).

My younger brothers and sister are the ones that liven up the house. Their jokes and antics never fail to crack everyone up, and this is the best reason why everyone should have a big family (by today’s standards, a family of seven is considered big. Heh). So when one fine week in July everyone happened to be home at the same time and I came up with the idea to have an early ‘raya’ family picture, you could imagine what would result from it.

Official, proper version. For the record, my family has never caught on the eid family colour theme thing; the proof is rather striking as you can see.

True colours coming out. Back (L-R)- me, Muhammad, Luqman, Sarah, Aliah. Front (L-R)- mak, abah.

More action as we exchanged headgears. Wish I were the sith lord. Heh.


The next weekend all of us minus Aliah plus my grandmother and aunt went for a trip to Langkawi, and I had a really good time basking in the nature, albeit having an inadvertent self-staged drama with my camera for the better part of it, which we shall not discuss here. Anyway, I had become a passive photographer throughout the entire holiday. It just shows that although I love photography, I love lazing around doing nothing more. And with most of my family members being avid photographers (when we took a boat ride at Kilim national geopark, the boat driver asked, “ni aktiviti kelab fotografi ke?”), and them having much better arsenals of those shiny guns, we wouldn’t need my pictures to cover for an event, which sort of triggered the lazy photographer syndrome.

Sunset at... err, where was it again? A little further from Cenang.

A fisherman waiting for his late catch of the day.

Yes, I only ever managed to shoot the sunset during the trip due to the aforesaid 'drama'.

My youngest brother Luqman. He's been a gem throughout the hols, helping me with various errands in and out of the house. ^_^

One of the very few things that made living at home less favourable than here was the presence of various ‘exotic’ faunas inhabiting our house and the backyard. My least favourite animals, frogs, totally roamed our backyard and for that reason, I never once took a walk across it, not for anything. Lizards were rampant (I once found a humongous lizard in a glass of half-empty cendol that we drank upstairs), and splashes of iguana jumping into the swamp behind the house (purely a hypothesis, but a likely one) have been heard once or twice. Last time I heard, a rattlesnake had been sighted, being pestered by our daredevil cats as my sister went to feed them. Living in a (seemingly) peaceful village overlooking the sea obviously comes at a price.

However, home is home and will always be so. I can’t say Kuantan has the best-looking beaches or sell the cheapest headscarves, but I’ve lived here almost all my life that I simply feel belonged. I find myself totally at ease when, say, I step into a local shopping mall here, but roaming around Suria KLCC, for example, still gives me a sense of alienation, like I’m an outsider and people are throwing me looks. Whereas, I figure, who on earth will have the slightest idea whether I am a native of KL or not? Sometimes your mind can play wonderful tricks on you.

But these are the trivia of life. Sometimes, when you really open your heart to accept it, you’ll be able to find a space for contentment in every breath you take. I’m trying (struggling, really) to complain less because deep inside in my heart, I know I’m contented. When you’re caught in situations, you complain, because it’s sort of become a habit. The truth is- I’m fine. Despite my current stressful situation (some people know the details), I’m savouring the beginning of my final two years here.

My mother asked me whether I liked it here, I said yes. If I were given the choice once more to go anywhere in the world, would I choose to study here? Probably not. Here is a place you won’t fall in love with at first sight. You learn to love it. And I know I’m going to miss it when the time comes for parting ways. My mother asked me what I like about Russia, and I remember not having the chance to answer. Well, I think I’ll save it for another entry.

I feel like I've been writing too much for my own good so I'm leaving it at that with some random pictures from my summer holiday...

Visiting Ustaz Yusof at his house.

Breakfast with family + grandparents at a restaurant in Ampang.

My sister Aliah, me and my youngest aunt.

Me and my friend Erfa at Ikea after our tennis date.

My second aunt Aunty OG, Aliah, me, Kak Sarah, my cousin Qistina.

Very pretty pavlova for dessert.

My brother Muhammad- greatest badut in the family!

Class 3 Gigih '01 reunion.

The Tempest

Salam Ramadhan everyone.

Two months later and it might feel like I’ve lost my grasp on the writing habit- you know what they say after a continuous 40 days of doing something (or not doing something, for that matter). But old habits die hard, and I’ve been itching since roughly five weeks ago to phrase my thoughts into coherent writing. Suffice to say that I’ve failed, miserably, which says a lot about my current state of mind- incomprehensible. I’m strangely in high spirits, but not the kind that gets you jumping up and down the floor screaming your heads off- more like lying-down-on-bed-dreaming kind of happy. I’m not very happy with the lack of words forming in my head though- swimming around merrily, but always out of reach. A brick wall inside your head is so not convenient.

So since I’ve been sidelined by my own head, I’d better be efficient- I’ll compartmentalise this post into appropriate moments that best illustrate the past two months I’ve been missing.

Best moment(s): every waking moment at home- I’ve been more ‘domestic’ than ever this holiday, traveling only to KL a few times for some grinding legal matters, meeting family and friends… but still it’s the best holiday so far (although I thought the same last year, and the year before too). The Olympics were so much fun and I found myself watching events that I never had much before, like archery and rowing, alongside favourite ones like football, tennis, swimming, badminton, and gymnastics. Other seemingly mundane stuff like eating out, taking pictures along the beach near the house, going to the local pasar malam, and sweating it out at Bukit Pelindung, were enough to make me one contented person.

With Tiey and Mant.

With Bihah and Mant.

With Erfa. Nice chocolate nectar eh, Pa? *laughs*


Worst moment(s): I don’t think it need be spelt, but well, I‘ll do it for effect. Hehe. The last day on home soil wins hands down as my worst moment this year, even. Summer holidays puzzlingly felt like they were getting shorter and shorter each coming year and by the end of it this time, I was totally caught by surprise. August especially, flew by unnervingly. So, the usual drama at the airport took place (I warned my dad beforehand not to make me cry this time, but he did, again. Argh.), plus another drama involving overweight luggages (we’re students! Give us some leeway!), and another involving that unfortunate time of month- all of which combined to make me one depressed traveler. Oh and, as always, I strained from the urge to vomit right before touching down on my final destination- what was with all the fancy motions by the plane anyway? It occurs every single time I fly, at the same location. Twilight zone stuff.

With family at KLIA before departure.

Funniest moment(s): I’ve retold this story over and over again, and I still find it tickling to the bones. There was a health awareness program at the clinic where my father worked and I accompanied him there for the day. A blood drive was held, and so I went to donate mine. The medical assistant there asked me random questions whilst poking me with the giant needle- my place of study, course, etc. Afterwards he got up to the nurses gathering nearby and jokingly said that someone came from Russia, referring to me. Not long after, a nurse came to my side, smiled, and asked, “Can you speak Malay?” Puzzled, all I could utter was “uh?” and she good-naturedly repeated her question before the situation sank in. I stifled the urge to laugh as I sheepishly answered her question to the affirmation. She then realised her misconception and gave an embarrassed laugh, together with practically everyone within a two-metre radius. Jeez, someone actually took me for a Russian, which was a hoot, considering how many Russians would normally stare at me like I couldn’t get more alien. Haha.

Weirdest moment(s): Have you seen a tapir other than the ones at the zoo? And two days in a row? I happened to see one at my grandfather’s orchard as he ran towards us before fleeing the other direction. The white saddle of his body startled me- he truly looked like a giant baby in a napkin. The very next day, I followed my dad to work (in Kerteh) and on the way back we saw a dead tapir by the roadside, appearing to have been hit by a car. There were cliffs at either side of the road with dividers alongside it, so it seemed unlikely that the tapir was attempting to cross the road in front of a car- he must have been hit whilst going along the road, a situation that seemed bizarre anyways. The weird encounters piqued my interest in the well-being of these cute animals. I know tapirs are endangered and protected animals, but unlike many other similarly-fated creatures in the past and present, these guys are not being hunted to extinction- they are essentially being driven out of their habitats due to deforestation for developmental purposes. What use is the protected status if they’re being actively rendered homeless by the authorities anyway? Do these people think tapirs find it fun to take a stroll across highways?

Sometimes people can just be infuriatingly ignorant about the welfare of our less-intelligent cohabitants. I can’t expect everyone to go gushy over a cute cat, sure, but at least practice some civilisation, if not compassion. Those who think it’s amusing to drill holes into a spider’s abode for instance, think again, this time using your brain. Would you like this to be done to you? Being ousted from your home and worse still, you can’t even say anything about it? Animals may lack higher cognitive functions that humans possess, but they know when we are being cruel to them. Unlike us, they are not capable of being cruel. So where’s the sense of shame? It’s not the fact that you see me as an animal lover- if treating these lovable creatures with justice and respect they deserve is solely the task of an animal lover, then every single one of us should become one. Enough of the unkindness and warped sense of superiority. Please.

Scariest moment(s): A tie between going past Bukit Bauk in Kerteh and my ambulatory exam second week of the current semester. My father told me the story of Bukit Bauk, a place so haunted people who went there came back suffering from fits of hysteria. The recreational park built at the foot of hill had been abandoned as nobody dared to come close to it. Every motorist going to Dungun though, must pass the entrance to the park, and even this near-encounter had caused some tingly experiences for many. So when my father and I were spending the night at Dungun due to the health awareness program the following day, I was naturally terrified at the thought of passing by the hill. Thankfully nothing happened, but my heart was doing double-twists the whole way, which I was sure had nothing to do with the works of supernatural creatures. My father, however, said he had intense headache as we drove past the infamous area. I made a silent vow not to ever go through this experience again.

The exam was an entirely different matter- we were all not really aware of its existence other than its existence (meaning we knew there would be an exam but were vague on the details), and all of a sudden we were doing practical reports and slammed with tens of questions about emergency medicine for the exam, all in a span of three days. I didn’t exactly nail it, enough to say, but it could have gone worse. And lucky I had the nice old lady for examiner. ;p

Special moments that made the holiday different: visiting my Quran teachers, old headmaster and great-grandmother. The first ustaz, Ustaz Yusof, had taught me Quran since I was little (about four I think) until I reached standard six, when he became ill and stopped teaching altogether. He was the one who taught me the proper way to recite the Quran, with precise makhraj and tajwid, and I couldn’t thank him enough for that. His strictness (always with a cane in hand) made us work harder; any moment of daydreaming would be swiftly halted by his booming, scolding voice.

Ustaz Hussein, in contrast, was very gentle n soft-spoken. He taught me the art of taranum, and a bit of berzanji. I first had a dream of me visiting him this holiday and immediately asked my dad about the plan, and thought of visiting the other two influential persons in my life as well. Seeing him for the first time after a few years made my eyes welled up with tears- he looked very thin and frail, walking with the aid of a walking frame. And as a result of his conditions, he didn’t remember every single one of us, even after we prompted him with details. I felt a mixture of sadness and happiness as we talked; sad to see him unwell and so thin (he used to be a little plump), happy to be able to see him again. It didn’t matter very much that he didn’t remember me anymore, I just wished him well and always under Allah’s blessings and protection.

Meeting Ustaz Yusof was a merrier event- he seemed healthy and in good spirits. We drank tea as we listened to his childhood stories, mainly about how he came to choose to study religion instead of more ‘academic’ courses, as he was one of the top students in his state at the time. When we were leaving, he broke into tears as he hugged my brother, and as I watched, I too, had to wipe away a tear or two. Elder people are easy to please- a simple visit like this is enough to make them feel so happy and appreciated, something that we younger people have to learn a lot from. Ustaz Hussein even said, “bila orang ziarah, rasa mcm ubat kepada penyakit kita.” Let’s be more grateful for what others have done to us, no matter how small the deed is.

Next destination: my old headmaster, whom I called mudir (‘headmaster’ in Arabic). He fell sick not a while ago, but when we met him he appeared to be his positive and smiling self. I looked up to him when I was a scruffy standard-one student- I would wait for him to arrive at school in his red proton saga and open his door for him. He would then thank me profusely and search his pockets for a RM1 coin to give me as a reward, and made my day. He was my English teacher, and a very good one at that. But more importantly, he was a great motivator- always encouraging me to expand my abilities further, be it in English or other subjects, by entering writing and oratory competitions, and even offered me to skip a grade once (it was a private school so that was possible). In short, he was my unofficial mentor, something not any teacher could simply be.

We took pictures with all three of them, and all of them had one common remark when asked for it- “Kena pakai cantik-cantik sikit…!” Ustaz Yusof even insisted to change his shirt and put on his serban. Hehe.

My sister, brother, and I with ustaz Hussein and his wife.

With Ustaz Yusof.

With Mudir.

I am not one of those students who are very close to their teachers; those who ask a lot of questions, confide in them with their problems, and even have their telephone numbers at hand… that’s not me. I prefer to ask my friends before resorting to the teacher (something that my mother wasn’t very happy with- “Always ask your teachers!” Hehe) and I keep my polite distance from them, save a very few. It’s not that I don’t value them much- I do- but I don’t know… perhaps because I was quite the rebel and often got into trouble with some teachers (minor stuff, nothing quite tragic). But anyway, I do appreciate my teachers and I want to visit them at my old schools, but due to my aforesaid states of relationship with most of them, I’d rather be accompanied by friends and visit as a group. So friends who read this, let’s do it sometime, alright? ;)

The last event I would like to mention is the visit to my great-grandmother’s place in Muar. My sister and I went with our grandparents on a day’s visit. She was the mother of my mother’s father, and, according to her identification card, she turned 100 this year (which was a bit far-fetched- she was more like 90). When we met her, she was in an amazingly good shape, her memory more than anything else. She remembered us clearly, what we were up to, and asked the well-being of each of our siblings. We stayed for lunch and went back to KL that evening.

I didn’t meet a lot of my friends this time, but I got to meet people from the older generation instead, which was just as swell. I might sound a bit dramatic in my accounts, but I did feel quite emotional during those visits, something that I tried to somewhat conceal at the time. I pray to Allah s.w.t to bless all these good people and put them amongst the righteous in the hereafter.

So there. An attempted short report made long. Excuse my plain and crude language, I’m writing this during a very demanding rotation with a lecturer whose remarks and expressions remind me of the Wicked Witch of The West, or bitter lemon. She’s a very good teacher though, but I still doubt I’ll ever consider choosing Ophthalmology as a specialty. Hehe.

Alright, I’m off to cook for iftar. I wish everyone a very happy and meaningful last ten days of Ramadhan, and special wish goes to my mother, father, brothers Muhammad and Luqman, sister Aliah; grandparents Aki, Tok Siah, Tok Mat and Tok Ampang; Acik, Ateh, Acu, Ummi Cik, Aunty Og, Aunty Ita, Aunty Hanis, and their respective families; Aunty Dah, Ibu, and all my friends… I’m sorry if I missed anyone. I guess this is my version of Salam Perantau.;p

My mum and dad... they celebrated their 24th anniversary on September 9th. May Allah bless both of you always. ;)

Ps: Today (22nd September) marks our 3rd anniversary of coming to Russia by the way. =)
Pps: Is this like, my longest post ever? *cackles*

of knights and vassals

Entering the third week of my holiday and I can conclude that I've done good in the eating department, at least. Still working on other more productive activities as planned, but goodness, idyllic times can be deceptive. In other words, whilst I should be writing some serious stuff about my travels, I'm being lured into building an army in this Knighthood game in Facebook by my dad. He has become some sort of a fan whilst I just only realised (or remembered, I can't remember) that I actually have an account, and about a hundred of unanswered gifts/invitations. He's now instructing me to expand my marketplace and recruit more vassals. I currently have about, uh, 6, so my friends out there, beware- I'm going to add all of you as my friends (and vassals) in Facebook! hahaha... dah lame tak buat bende2 mcm ni.

I did manage to read a couple of good books, climb manggis trees at my grandfather's orchard, buy stuff off my grocery list to bring back to the land of the bears, play with the cats (my allergy's getting worse though), and a full swing of other ordinary activities that define a wonderful holiday. But I still want to do some extraordinary things (in my book at least) this time around, so don't write me off just yet.

And I've got myself a new camera at long last... though I must decline the invitation to join the macro war by my uncles- haven't finished reading the manual yet, plus am still undergoing basic lessons from my brother on several techniques. Hehe. Another year, perhaps? ;p

Loving my moment!

Sweet nothings

It’s the same air we breathe, yet it feels different. Yes, it’s more humid, but that’s totally beside the point. I’m talking about this refreshing wave of familiarity rekindled; this friendly hot air pumping your sweat glands to work at full force- not quite unlike summer on the other side, but that minus the friendliness of course. Ask me not to elaborate on the friendliness- when you’ve lived three years in a land not exactly hailed for its hospitality, even the air becomes foreign.

So the long-anticipated summer holidays have finally arrived for everyone. I came home with quite an ambition this time- made a whole list of ambitious stuff to be accomplished. Like, for instance, finishing brutally unfinished chapters of growing travelogues. Perfecting my French- I mean, Russian. Or both, perhaps. Finding a lifelong cure for acne. The list goes on. Frankly, I think I have a better chance at winning Wimbledon than completing the list. Speaking of which, by the way, Federer lost to Nadal in a brilliant five-setter that got me glued to the screen till way past 4 in the wee hours of morning, no thanks to London rain which had the match suspended twice (thank God they’ll be putting the roof from next year onwards). I still think Federer’s winners (and not to mention aces) in his comeback after down two to love were pure genius, but kudos to Nadal for such dogged perseverance and vigour. It sure makes me wanna pick my racket up again… if only I had someone to play with. Tsk. (Erfa...!!!)

Writing has to take a backseat for a while now as I have tons to catch up on my reading. Except, of course, writing my travelogues. Yes, yes. Anyone interested, stay tuned… ;p

Time to say goodbye

The happiest seven weeks of the year are coming to an end, during which I chose to be the laziest writer and the keenest lazybum around. Which has been all good, except for the fact that my brain is now quarterly frozen and not particularly ideal for learning data storage, which shall begin processing in nine days. As always, I finally decided to write on the eve of my travel (leaving for KL tomorrow), when I should really be packing up every little junk littering the floor of my room. Panicking can be addictive.

There are so many things planned yet undone, but I can't say that I haven't enjoyed my holiday- immensely. Still, I wish I could be more organised. And frugal. And finish my travelogue. =p

It's a very mixed feeling I'm having- sadness, with a tinge of excitement (of going into my third year of studies) and dithers (switching from honeymoon semester to a hellish one isn't going to be a cinch). But mostly sadness. And a little surprisingly, the bad vibes this time are worse than last year- time really does fly, and getting faster.

A few days ago, after passing through my former school, this familiar feeling surged all over.

Goodbye, au revoir!

Holiday Sweet Holiday

The holiday has arrived at long last (1 week- to celebrate the New Year, and Christmas on Jan 7th for Orthodox Christians)... My, I could definitely rejoice in all the magnificence if not for the nagging little fact that I'm having my exams in 18 days' time. The cold weather does not help my case, which makes for nice snuggling-under-the-covers sessions. Sofi wake up already!!! There. Haha. Laziness knows no ends. Though my spirits raised a little upon hearing my sister's splendid 9As for her PMR. Nice one, kiddo. Now I can't rest on my laurels, can I- time to stretch some muscles.

Selamat Hari Raya Eidul Adha to dear Muslims in the world. =)

ps:

Fauzan Al Anshori, from the militant group of Majelis Mujahidin Indonesia, said Bush, too, should stand trial.

"Given the crime blamed on Saddam, it is unfair if George Bush is not also put on an international tribunal," he said. "Saddam was executed for killings 148 people, Shiite Muslims, while Bush is responsible for the killing of about 600,000 Iraqis since the March 2003 invasion."

I couldn't agree more.


Feeding birds


A walk in the park


A lamb for sacrifice being brought down from the truck


Eid prayer; from left- Kak Naim, my sister Sarah, me.


Kak Haneem, Baya, Fahida, Kak Rita, me.

Definition of a holiday

My holiday so far is a classic case of a mishmashed scheme, which is actually a perfect scheme for a perfect holiday, but you get embroiled with the wonderful fickleness of thy brain in the process of executing thy plan, and end up playing spider solitaire in between reading Q Detective School whilst occasionally contemplating on the criticalness of the current languid state you are in (it has been decided that you have not reached critical point yet).

If I possess the ingenuity to engineer my blog template anytime at will, honestly I would change it every single week, with as many colours as I could scrape off my pallette. As luck would have it, I don't, and thus am left to leaf through hundreds of blah templates (OK, some of them are O-K but as it happens, I'm not searching for OK templates) before giving up for now. But no worries, as I go blog-hopping those pretty sites my green shade of envy shall deepen and I will definitely google the word 'free blog templates' and such in no time. Case closed.

We went fishing cum picnic this morning and whilst the others basked in the glory of catching 3, 4, 7 (8?) ekor ikan talapia (and a couple others of undefined type), I had to settle for, er, 0. I'm clearly not a fisherman. The other day my mother asked me to do a bit of weeding at the front lawn and despite meticulous reasonings, I ended up gaily mutilating her growing pokok cili and some daun pegaga. Clearly I'm not a gardener, too.

So self-discovery isn't doing too well this first week of holidays. Oh, perhaps a bit from the piece of advice given by my dad last night regarding my temper- with the classic Zidane headbutt incident as example. He said I would do just what Zidane did- right in wanting to defend justice, wrong in the course of action. Zidane might be provoked, but people's first impression would always highlight upon the fact that he had headbutted poor Materrazzi rather than directly questioning his motive for doing so. And, for that moment at least, he was the only bad guy.

I am not very good at making conclusions, but I think everyone got my point ;) Sailing off to cloud cuckoo land... *yawn*

Menu of The Year

1. Ikan patin goreng

2. Kari kambing

3. Udang masak merah

4. Ayam goreng berempah (yeke??)

5. Sayur umbut masak lemak

6. Sayur labu masak lemak

7. Sambal belacan

8. Sambal 'O' dengan tempoyak

9. Sambal tumis ikan bilis dengan petai

10. Ulam raja, kacang botol, jering dan petai

11. Limpa (yeke??) goreng

Pemanis mulut:

1. Puding buah-buahan (something berkuah, I forgot to try)

2. 3 biji kek Secret Recipe: Banana something-something cake, White chocolate macadamian cake, and Chocolate Indulgence cake

Minuman:

1. Jus oren

2. Jus kelapa muda

3. Air sejuk


I was one happy eater =D Thank you very much, Aki & co. !

Safely tucked at home

"Apa berita terbaru kat sini? Pasal Erra-Yusry tu, lagi?"

"Aaa pasal Mawi tu tahu??"

"Tahu2."

"Siti Nordiana dah kawin... Syura pun!"

"Anne Ngasri pun!"

"Ade show "One in A MIllion" tu, adik Siti masuk, dia tu... *not suitable listening for Siti's fans*..."

Alright, I'm definitely back in Malaysia =)

The writing mood's not there, probably mightily supplanted by the eating mood. Can't wait for the kenduri tomorrow!

On a different note, I managed to watch all the quarter-final games and the first semi-final (was on the plane for the second but didn't care much as Brazil was not playing. heh.). What can I say? France made a real comeback in the later rounds, and especially in the quarters. Well. Actually Zidane made a real comeback. A super-duper brilliant comeback. And they deserved that game. Only the fact that the game was against my most favourite team in the world thus... go Italy! Beat those nasty squirts!

And poor Argentina. As much as I am fond of Germany, Argentina didn't deserve to lose. Boo to Pekerman for not putting in Messi. The replacement of the 'keeper undoubtedly affected the whole outcome too. Uhuh. Better luck next time, guys.

As for the first semi, I think Italy did well to get through. Two brilliant goals for a riveting match! Although I could understand Klinsmann's frustration for the late goals as he must have been fervently praying for a penalty shootout. Another unexpected twist of fate, it seems. But well, it's just a game. And let's hope France doesn't win the Cup. Hehe.