Waterless thoughts

Which is weirder, the fact that I’m having Bruce Springsteen on at the moment, or that last night I discovered a mysterious packet containing a cardigan on my chair and later had a dream that it was a birthday gift from Zach Braff (and that we were friends and so on and so on)?

Haha… a conundrum to rouse your otherwise mundane Saturday morning. The cardigan turned out to be for my roomie by the way (U_U), because, well, today is her birthday (To whom this may concern- don’t leave other people’s gifts on my chair! Haha). Happy birthday dear roomie- another year filled with blessings, inshaallah.

Shall I say that the birthday wish is another coincidence? ;) I’ve been sidelined today by a reminder of how powerful an effect the elements of nature hold over your life- they’ve cut the water supply from last night until tomorrow evening for some work on maintenance. And our teacher has been kind enough to give us a holiday today so my plan was to simply lay dormant in order to circumvent excessive need for use of precious water. So here I am, with the most dormant yet productive activity I can think of. Haha.

I have been living with inconsistencies lately, one after another. I thought I was at peace with myself, and then I wasn’t. I thought I had a firm grip on something, and then I didn’t. Some old, long-held notions were questioned, and when I thought I was confident enough to straighten things out, I faltered. And I really want to write about a whole world of things, but my mind has been, for the lack of a prettier word, blocked. Ok, I made this sound rather alarming, but it really isn’t. I hope. See…? Inconsistencies.

I may not have the goods to write today, but I do have a good picture to share- the cake I made with Farah’s help for Fatin’s birthday. It was fun! Hehe.

Eyjafjallajökull cake... hehe. Nah... it's actually a poke at Fatin's 'volcano' cake a couple of years back... long story. Anyway, it's carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. And chocolate rice lava. :)

Good day, everyone.

"Are you ready to cut off your head and place your foot on it? If so, come; Love awaits you! Love is not grown in a garden, nor sold in the marketplace; whether you are a king or a servant, the price is your head, and nothing less. Yes, the cost of the elixir of love is your head! Do you hesitate? 0 miser, It is cheap at that price!" –Al-Ghazali

Pre-exam doodle

Final day of class was also the final day of the year. And thus began the clumsy waltz through winter exams which would eventually end on the 23rd of January, some several light years away. They say Dermatology is a walk in the park, but it actually is my least favourite subject this year, so I'd add the word 'punishing' before it. Psychiatry is psychiatry, and Paediatrics will be conducted in Russian, being a 'national examination' paper. I've exhausted the topic on my Russian, so I shall say no more. In a nutshell, the prosaic med-student life is about to go Armageddon.

I've neglected to write on a daily or weekly or even monthly basis, so clearly a world of things have happened in the time that I kept pushing the snooze button on this blog. Ergo, I've selected highlights, or rather, created awards for time-saving and better reading purposes. And as usual, most are spontaneous and quite random in nature.

Lesson of the year
To never give up no matter what. Sounds unoriginal and outdated, but I'm talking about the moments when all seem to be lost and we can almost taste the bitterness of failure; when many of us would customarily begin to prepare our minds for defeat. Don't. There have been numerous super-comeback and fighting-tooth-for-tooth moments I've witnessed especially in sports this year that reaffirmed the mantra "it ain't over till it's over", and that goes the same with life.

Breakthrough hobby of the year
I had this post-rainbow withdrawal syndrome after my 'rainbow' left me, and, quite similar to Dr. House after his brief asylum spell, I turned to cooking. I surprised even myself with the stuff that I did, topped by taking orders of nasi minyak for 20 people- making a dish I had never before made on my own in its entirety. My friends encouraged and helped me all the way and I want to personally thank Farah, Fatin, Sakinah and Firdaus for their part. Hehe. Another friend, Fahida, inspired me to bake cakes, and in the span of a few weeks I was on a sort of a rampage, baking chocolate cake, carrot cake, tiramisu, and pandan cake (twice!). Unlike House who grew out of it, however, I got hooked. So Mak, I promise to bake cake(s) at home next year. :)

Teacher of the year
In a year filled with great teachers, our infectious diseases teacher, Olga Alexandrovna Chernyavskaya managed to steal the award at the last moment from various strong contenders. We are even cooking for her this Monday in a li'l thank-you party, which, coming from our semi-dysfunctional group, is a uber strong statement.

Season of the year
I would have settled for autumn like always, it being my favourite season in terms of practically everything, but the last few weeks gave us a sight to behold for a long, long time to come. A dramatic turn of the weather saw our city covered by snow up to our knees within one day, accompanied by cruel, wheezing wind that literally made you cry. Only a few days later however, the temperature escalated to above zero and we had had a substantial rainfall. Just when we thought to brace for muddy and flooded streets the day after, down went the scale and the earth froze over. And, almost out of nowhere, came to light the most stunning picture- trees in ice glimmering like 24-carat diamonds! Of course, we have seen ice-covered trees before, but nothing massive like this- the whole city was positively twinkling, and at night, everything appeared more glamourous and dream-like. And although I waited for more than an hour to flag a marshrut/taxi that evening, and eventually had to walk up the hill to our place, I was grinning like an idiot the whole time, ooh-ing and aah-ing following every few slippery steps.

I can design several more awards of freakish nature, but it's new year and I don't wish to start by getting into anyone's bad books for being super lame. I do wish, though, for Volgograd to bring about a professional hockey team to enter the Continental Hockey League for the 10/11 season so that i can watch great live hockey here every other week or so. Yeah.

Happy hibernating, Volgans.

ps: just got back from an usrah/slumber party/qiyamullail combo which surprised me in many ways- all for the better, inshaallah...

Everyone will be with those whom he loves

It would be customary for me to nose-dive towards near-insanity around this time of year, but, as astronomical as the tasks lain before me appear to be, I'm inexplicably calm. And people can't use that last-minute-paddler argument with me because this is last minute- Neurology is but three days away (two for control freaks) and I still have about... four gazillion questions to go.

So I browsed through my past summer exam entries to contemplate retrospectively on how I was doing each time- from the world cup-tinged and missing-home kind of entries in 2006, to broody in 2007, to reflective, Euro-coated last year. All shared one thing in common- optimism, the weapon that has gotten me through many sticky situations in life thus far. Not that you can take on the world by optimism alone, but by being optimistic you gain the confidence to fight for success, and to be positive in defeat. It's a win-win situation.

All my life I have been clouded by the thought that more often than not I haven't been giving my absolute best in my endeavours. It may be true in some occasions, but in hindsight, I do strive my best with all these weaknesses I possess that get in the way from following through. I know it sounds disoriented, and more like an excuse, but anyway, this beautiful hadith comforts me whenever I think I'm not doing my best (or can never be the best) to be of any regard to anyone:-

Narrated Abdullah bin Mas'ud r.a. : "A man came to Allah's messenger (S.A.W.) and said, 'O Messenger of Allah! What do you say about a man who loves some people but cannot catch up with their good deeds?' Rasulullah S.A.W. said, 'Everyone will be with those whom he loves.'"
(Bukhari)

And in relation to this hadith, Anas r.a. said,

“There was nothing which made us (sahabas) happier in this world than to hear this”
(Muslim)

May Allah make us from those who are resurrected with the successful ones on the day of reckoning.

Now back to books...

ps: Federer won! ;)

Unworthy of a title

As is invariably the way when someone has gone by more than a month without an entry, he/she kicks off with detailed explanations for his/her absence (that were just a lot of chaff), as if anyone gives two hoots about it. But I’m all for clichés, so here goes…

It pains to recall since when, but writing has become a punishing chore, like Russian homework. Or Neurology lecture. I like to write, but it’s not always a flowing river of words for me. Thoughts I have plenty, but to translate them into intelligible accounts for human viewing requires a mammoth of an effort in my part, something that the Law of Procrastination simply forbade me to do, the last couple of weeks. A handful of doodles during lectures have gone missing somehow too, and I just hope nobody found ‘em before me, those shoddy excuses of a scribble.

Spring waltzed by with a medley of dramas which could pass for a few Gossip Girl episodes, most of which I was glad for not being directly involved with, because my head would have exploded from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Sometimes you wonder whether you really know the person you thought you knew. And whether the world has gone mad or you're the one not in sync with it anymore.

One of the most interesting topics to talk about in this side of the world these days is- surprise, surprise- the weather. First thunderstorm of the year (at least that I’m aware of) occurred late afternoon on Sunday, as I was sitting amongst the spectators of the handball playoff final match between Dinamo Volgograd and Zvezda Moscow (reigning champs). And what a sizzling match that was- our players were firing on all cylinders right from the start, leading 8-1 at one point. As the star-laden Zvezda (incidentally, 'zvezda' means a star. No pun intended. hehe) began to get into their groove halfway through, one of their top shooters was red-carded and their coach (also the national team coach) got all diva-like with endless protests and even called a couple of unofficial ‘timeouts’ afterwards, delaying the game; I just had to laugh when he was shown the yellow card by the ref for verbal abuse. Anyhow, Dinamo kept Zvezda on its tail throughout the entire game- they were a deserving winner alright.

The climax of the show though, came twenty seconds from time, when a scuffle broke out between two players, and I wondered whether I was watching ice hockey instead. Oh and did I mention these were women we were talking about? From my standpoint it was not very clear because all the benchers charged to the scene right after to back their teammates up but as I saw on the news that night those two were literally pulling hairs and scratching each other’s face! Wow. That didn’t change anything however; Dinamo still won 31 to 26. Russian champions 2009!

OK, I was not, as originally intended, talking about the weather. The weather, meanwhile, has been idiosyncratic- all sunny now, raining cats and dogs the minute after. I love heavy rain, provided I’m on the inside looking out, preferably with a cup of tea and keropok lekor at hand. Otherwise, I don’t really see the joy in soaking my trousers skipping around puddles (or streams) of water, not when I’m on my way to class. That said, summer has just arrived, and I would take drenched trousers over blistering burned skin any time of the day. Yes, summer here is that hot, hotter than Rafa Nadal’s pink attire in the French Open.

Speaking of which, I am thrilled that they are covering the tournament this time, even though most full matches shown are those involving Russian players. So I was hoping most of them get early exits (except for Davydenko, cos he’s a Volgograd resident! And probably Sharapova- her comeback was stirring), and the TV people would have no choice but to air other players as well. Haha. I still haven’t given up hope on Federer seizing the only ‘slam that eludes him (yesterday was a scare, by the way), especially now since he’s the favourite- although Roland Garros this year has given us a bag of surprises thus far. Allez Roger!

I can feel my parents starting to wonder whether I really am studying medicine here so I’ll give an update on my studies. We’re on ENT now, a field that I’m almost sure I won’t specialise in- anatomy of the ear puzzles me. Semester ends this week, followed by a short study leave and then, yes, the thorn at the final corner of the road- final exams. The panic air hasn’t hit town yet for me, but it has for my sister, roomie, and the rest of final year students, because their exam starts today! Hazzun sa'eed- may Allah ease your way and grant you with gempak-issimo results.

Today is another sunny day… for now.

My Family and Kokoro no Tomo-tachi (Saiunkoku watchers ;p)

I thought to myself a few days ago, I wouldn’t write another cheesy birthday entry this year. But came my birthday, and I realised why every year I ended up doing it anyway. No, it did not have anything to do with reflecting on getting older and wiser (or not so) and responsibilities and all that boogie-woogie. Honestly, I didn’t the slightest bit care about the fact and when people normally asked, “How does it feel being so-and-so?” I would just say, “fine!” or give non-answers like, “hehe” or “hmm…” or trivias like “my mother got married at this age.” or this time around, “I’m forever seventeen!”.

As far as getting older is concerned, I just don’t think about that on my birthday. I ponder on that perhaps about every other day of the year except my birthday. If you noticed my birthday entries every year, they were all about thanking my family and friends, for this was the time of year for me when the word ‘overwhelmed’ became an understatement. As was the case this year, notwithstanding the feel seemed somewhat different. Perhaps it had to do with the flu I’d been having since the night before. Nevertheless, my birthday is a day to remind me of how I am blessed with such good people around me- one of the greatest blessings of my life.

I had thought before that if I were to treat my friends nicely, I would be treated the same way too. But I know a couple of very nice people who, by some twists of fate, always seem to encounter not-so-nice people who give them headaches in one way or another. Hence I consider myself truly blessed in this respect, for Allah has sent me some very good people to accompany me in this life, wherever I've been. The dinner feast, the homemade birthday cakes, the morning phone call from Sydney, the blog entries, the emails, the SMS-es, the wishes on Facebook/Geni/Friendster, the wishes at the lecture & back in hostel, the surprise gifts on my desk and bed when I got back, the second dinner feast… Yes, as I have tried to convince myself for a while, birthdays are not that big of a deal per se, but it is an occasion nonetheless- for people to wish you well, and for you to notice how fortunate you are, in this big wide world you live in.

Alhamdulillah.

A Little Midnight Drone

This year, as it turned out, we jumped straight from winter to summer. I hate to sound like a Puteri Lilin because I used to berjemur all the time doing co-curricular activities back in school and was very dark throughout the years, but I really can’t stand being under the sun these days. Today was so hot my spring jacket became a hand accessory instead, and, as if punishing me for not indulging in the glaring beams more like those Russians, the marshrutka I took was flagged down by the police and as it seemed to take a while, I, amongst most of other passengers, decided to get down and resume on foot for the next kilometre or so in order to make it in time for my final Paediatrics class. In the afternoon, as we walked from Ploshad Chekistov to the tram station for lecture, we were told that a massive road block had taken place and all trams and marshrutkas going in the direction we were taking were subsequently halted and thus we had to walk all the way to the hospital, scorching sun and all. I felt alright then, but now my knees are all jelly (now where did I put my TENS device…). I am seriously contemplating on bringing my umbrella tomorrow.

Why the rant, I don’t know… I wasn’t planning to, at the beginning of this post, but the selfish part of me took over. Anyway, to round it up, I owe surviving a depressing day (and not even due to the weather, actually) to the amazing people around me who never stop to be, in my eyes, amazing. Right from my sister whose simple presence was enough of a comfort, to this lovely friend who, after I half-jokingly said on the way back that only cheesecake or nasi lemak could possibly make me happy today, turned up a couple of hours later with nasi lemak for me (Darn, I’ve got to do better than sending roti tissue on Facebook). Minna-san, daisuki yo!

Off to bed, eyes all red…

blitzkrieg

March is Bulan Amali Muslim in Volgograd. Last Sunday, we had a course on managing a deceased Muslim, from bathing, clothing, praying, to burying the body. It seemed that I had forgotten some stuff from Pendidikan Islam classes in school, so I’m glad I decided to attend. More importantly, as always, I urge everyone including myself to constantly remember death, and not just as something that saps away all things pleasant from us. Death is a passage to another world- a world that, although itself transitory, accommodates us for an even longer time than that we spend on earth. Thus, as we pray for salvation on the Day of Judgement, don’t forget to seek relief from punishment in the grave too, for we know that there are a whole lot of people who would enter Jannah but could not escape punishment in the grave.

On a lighter note, I’m finally putting up some pictures. I wrote a post accompanying them approximately two weeks ago but due to reasons unbeknownst to even myself, I didn’t post it. The truth is, I sort of dislike my own writing. I know I’ll never be literary-hall-of-fame material like some of my favourite authors, but it’s dawned on me that I can’t even write decent, well-structured prose without dwindling it with haphazard details and loads of parentheses (like now. Ha-ha). Sometimes, after reading things over, I wonder, can people actually understand what I’m saying? That doesn’t include the fact that I rarely can write everything that I mean to- it’s as if there is a giant filter in my brain working on autopilot. Hence the result goes… something like this paragraph. Right.

Despite that, life’s good. It may seem lame to say that time and again, but well, I mean it. Of course, you have to brush off ugly little details, like the harassment you get from certain Liverpool fans throughout the past seven days, or the dreadful falls (note the plural) on ice on the way to class last week after two years of clean sheet. Paediatrics cycle started on Monday, and after we finished taking a guided tour of the department with the teacher that day, I knew I was going to enjoy the next two weeks.

Taking the patient’s history can be a bit tricky, though. Apart from having to use terms easier for them to understand, there’s this business of switching your conversation ‘format’ from the polite form which we’re so used to with adult patients, to the common form used for friends or younger people. In short, our grammar was all over the place, and we ended up being a laughingstock for the 12-year-old girl and her two ward buddies. Be wary of girls this age- other girls my age will mostly agree with my assessment that this is their critical period of possibly developing into the ‘gedik’ stage; most guys will typically think they’re cute. Oh and be very wary when they tell you that the scar on their abdomen was caused by a monkey bite. Err yeah.

Anyhow, I had a lot of fun and am looking forward to the rest of next week. And below, is my post from a fortnight ago.

***

At the behest of my father and brother, and uncle (with scoffing taunts to boot), I’m obliged to post an entry of pictures, a whole lot of which had caused me mild headache having to pick and edit them here and there. By editing I naturally mean resizing, and a bit of tweaking at the contrasts and stuff; I am no Photoshop expert.

I can’t even think of appropriate words to express remorse for my lack of writing and posting pictures anymore, notably with respect to my travels. What can I say- I have tried, and even vowed to write in a daily journal during my trip this time, but last time I took a peek into that battered notebook, it stopped at day 3 (which so happened to be the case with my Turkey trip too). And my brother has long stopped pestering me for an entry “promoting Bristol”, as he put it. My uncles would prefer pictures- even that I failed to give.

The reason I didn’t put up pictures on my Flickr was that I wanted my story to be the heart of my work, accompanied by pictures- not the other way round. I’m always a writer first (konon.), a photographer second (if ever I am one). But as I had explained sometime ago, once I started to earnestly write about something, I couldn’t seem to spare any details- everything felt important and indispensable, right to every minute and whiff of the air if possible. My Day 2, for example, took about five pages’ worth of a standard small-line notebook (I have relatively small handwriting, too). And I know my weakness - finishing what I had started, especially when the process is laborious and I can’t appear to make time for it but, out of sheer stubbornness, refuse to trim it down to a “short & sweet” version either. I can do with an editor.

Except that I’m not a published author, as I have finally made my senses to come to realise, and so for the time being I’ve decided to make do with pictures whilst trying my best to get a shorter version of a story out, whenever that may be. Winter is about to end (technically it’s already spring, but for some ironic effect, heavy snowfalls occurred on the 1st of March, spanning a good few days), gracelessly incarnated by mud stain greasing the edges of your pants and fine drizzling drops which at times may trick your eyes into perceiving them as snow (probably because you want ‘em to be). According to my personal weather forecast, tomorrow will be “cloudy with snow tapering off”. I hope they’re wrong.

I’ve been preoccupied thus far, though largely owed to my abominable lack of time management. Also in a bit of a funk, owing to someone trying to get smart-alecky with me. Please, do exercise some manners and respect towards others, even if you disagree with them. It’s difficult enough to keep my patience in check without this kind of people poking round my bubble of sanity.

That being said, life has been kind to me of late (The Optimist speaking again). The startling part of the picture is receiving bountiful amount of kind treatment from the locals. I’ve been so accustomed to the cold stares and cavalier attitudes of many Russians that when people whom I met abroad and back home (upon learning about my place of study) ask about the locals and whether they really are as standoffish as reputed, I would generally agree with the notion, forgetting about many other kind souls who have brought smiles to my face during my drawn-out stay here. Like the old patient yesterday morning who bellowed, “Good morning, doctors!” when we passed by, or another old patient who kissed each of us on the cheek (after blowing a kiss to each of us) and called us her granddaughters, or the many gentlemen who gave me their rights to a seat in the marshrutka, or another gentleman who defended me when I couldn’t find my tram ticket and had to pay again before suddenly finding it right after (how classic.) and the conductor refused to return my money (with words like, “she’s only a student!”, “are you trying to take advantage over foreign students?”; even threatening to complain to the authority. Haha). And I haven’t even mentioned my teachers- most of them are awfully kind and helpful, though we still have our fair share of likes and dislikes, which is normal, of course. I’ll have to remember all these people the next time someone asks me about Russia.

Enough yapping let the pictures do the talking.

***

Fatin and Kak Nadiyah

Fahida and I

It turns out I can't just let the pictures do the talking. ;p Anyways, this was my first time taking a train ride in Russia. It was better than what I had expected it to be- in that jagged, traveller-roughing-it way, of course. There was only one drawback that i could think of- it was extremely warm inside- too warm for comfort- although we found out way later that we could actually open the window. But alhamdulillah, my biggest fear was unfounded- the toilet was relatively clean and thus I didn't have to test the superpower potential of my bladder for the stretched 18-hour journey.

A boy in a forlorn mood throughout the entire pre-departure time.

A lot of fellow students of my university were also on board, all heading to various destinations in Europe for the two-week-long holiday. Luckily, four of us girls got to bunk together and the remaining two in our compartment were also women. The upper bunk was decidedly small, bordering on claustrophobic; nonetheless, I slept a full seven hours soundly, uninterrupted.



The narrow aisle, not unlike an aeroplane's. Note the purple-haired old lady playing crosswords- favourite pastime of many Russian elderlies. Purple is also a favourite colour for hair dye amongst the elderly, apparently.

The view outside was either that of trees, village houses, dachas (summer houses), factories, and, occasionally, frozen river. The train made a number of stops along the way, each one ranging from 5 to 20 minutes, and you could go out to buy drinks and snacks at the many kiosks by the side of the track.

It was best, though, to bring your own supply of food and eat together with your friends, as we did. The amusing part was that the food were supposed to last us for the whole journey, but as it happened, a couple of hours (or less?) was all that was needed to polish off the sushi, tandoori chicken, fried squids, jemput-jemput, and corn pudding. I think they should just provide us a kitchen next time.

Kak Nadiyah, Fatin, Fahida and Shafwan in front of the renowned St. Basil's Cathedral.

We managed to make a little day tour around the heart of Moscow- the Red Square and Kremlin, Arbat street, and Europa mall for halal kebabs at Kebab House. Snow had melted, and the Red Square was a picture of puddles of water. The weather was gloomy and foggy too, and later in Arbat it rained.

Shafwan with the Kremlin at the background.

It was only the second time that I had really been in Moscow, after a 3-day stopover last summer. The city emits an appealing aura- its strange blend of opulence and decay fascinates me. The wobbly, wooden-benched but fast metro, the olden architecture of Kievskiy train station next to the steely-looking Europa mall... it would be comforting to think that the contrast provides some kind of balance to the setting of this great capital, except that I know better. It seems to be a recurrent theme in many cities in this country- beautiful, elegant shops for the rich are everywhere, yet you see poor people, beggars in every direction. Moscow is the reputed capital of billionaires, yet many of its public facilities leave much to be desired. Where does all the wealth go to- making the rich richer?



Gum, a luxurious shopping mall at Red Square, housing all the pricey labels. We went in to use the bathroom. ;p



gorgeous baby and father inside Gum

I think packing all these into one entry is starting to look wearisome. I'll follow up with the Moscow Metro... soon. ;D

November reflection

This month has served as a period of self-evaluation for me, which classically means a lot of clashing dialogues with my conscience at any moment in time. I think it’s good to maintain an active relationship with your conscience- as long as you keep it between you and your conscience, of course. It also reflects, to me at least, just how imperfect and unsure I am of every single step I make in life, more so than I had willed myself to admit. Perhaps some revolve around so-called redundant matters like what to cook for dinner, whether I should do the laundry now or later, etc. but some others do carve their makings into the patterns of my present and future. Besides, I intend not to belittle every small decision I make, even if it were a question of choosing between fresh and frozen broccoli, for the lack of a better example.

I suppose it began with me spraining my left ankle for the umpteenth time and pretended to be superman by continuing to walk up and down the hill on my way to class before taking buses and trams like I always did, play sports, and injuring it again with the coolest of bruises that extended up to 5cm above the ankle. My sister chewed me out with talks of permanent damage if I didn’t give it a proper rest and that I might not even be able to become a surgeon because I couldn’t stand for long. So I decided to be kind to my hurt ankle by selling my newly-bought bus-and-tram pass and taking marshrut to class for the entire month. I was also to come straight back home after every class without any unnecessary detours. To make a short story shorter, I’ve been having a lot of ‘me’ time as a result, which explains the self-evaluation part.

Some other trials and tribulations played their roles as well, and I’ve been trying hard to take a positive approach towards everything I’ve faced so far. It’s quite amusing when someone recently commented that I always seemed happy doing whatever I was doing, when in fact I had just cried my eyes out earlier that day. In one way or another, it’s a good thing that I managed to keep the negative aura within bounds, but some of my issues need solutions, for which I am yet to uncover. I’m turning to Allah for strength, and to my parents for inspiration in facing their own ordeals. My father is the archetype of calmness, and faces his current test in a most exemplary attitude as a Muslim. My mother, despite being a worrywart, never fails to give me the most necessary advices when I need them. I look up to them both, and pray Allah will ease them along their every path.

This year has been a year of tests for our family- plainly spelled out for my youngest brother and sister in the form of PMR and SPM, more intricately woven for the rest of us in many ways feasible. That’s not to say it’s a bad year- for me it’s been… enlightening, with lots of ups and downs. In the struggle for the better, occasionally- okay, more than occasionally- the demon in me will come out and spoil my willpower. It’s a constant frustration, the bane of my resolution. Yes, nobody’s perfect- everybody has their inner demons- but, whether it is due to better awareness in my part (how I wish so), or just for the degree of evilness it truly is, I really hate mine and wanna totally get rid of it. I suspect it won’t ever go away fully, but maintaining the struggle, or jihad, is essential nonetheless. Inner demons are not good for you- they mess with your mind, dim your hopeful future, and make you look totally uncool in front of your conscience.

Today, further sad news came to test us- my great-grandmother just passed away in the morning due to a lung infection. I last saw her in August, during which she appeared healthy and in high spirits- she even gave me a good hard slap on the thigh after laughing from a joke. I pray that she be placed amongst the blessed believers in the hereafter and spared from any torment in the grave. And let’s all reserve a moment to remind ourselves of this fleeting phase called life, and its nemesis, death- how near it is to each and every one of us regardless of age, gender, status, race… and how (un)prepared we truly are for it.

Eurexam's over

Alhamdulillah... Exam's over, Euro 2008's over. Both went very well for me. Hehe. Now I'm going home.

ps: Congratulations to my seniors who graduated last week!

Cliche cliche

As far as I had wanted to avoid a birthday post cliche, I'm writing one now- a short one. I'm 22 today, and as far as I am concerned, I am but a small pea in a bowl of pea soup. The longer I live, the more I see of the world- the same world that I have lived in all my life is shedding more n more of its kaleidoscope of light, making me feel like a newborn every once in while. Sometimes, the world's like a dear old friend; often it's an intriguing stranger. I've been blessed, saddened, disgusted, elated, and lately purely amazed at the complex machinery of the world's most prominent property- the people. I won't delve further into it now, but for one facet of the amazement- people's kindness. I realise today that there are so many people who are kind towards me yet I do little to reciprocate the humanity. People talk about little acts of kindness. In truth there exists no such thing- every act of kindness is BIG.

To everyone that matters, thank you for making my heart swell so large from your kindness (this sounds like something I've written last year or something. haha). May Allah bless you all.

Living zombie

Here I am again, about to apologise to my sorry self for not keeping up with my resolution. It seems like I’ve been doing a number of fancy pirouettes with my circadian rhythm lately that I’m entering some sort of zombie mode now. And I might look like I’m about to fall into a state of anarchy at any moment, but that’s normal, because I’m sitting for my ‘certification exam’ for therapy and surgery next week, with a skimpy 3-day gap between one and the other. Charming, a student’s life, isn’t it? It’s bad enough that we get so few holidays here; they also conduct exams during regular schooldays, amidst neck-breaking classes. Alright, I’m exaggerating (the neck-breaking part, not the exam-during-school part. That's true.). A little random ‘experiment’ the other day pointed me to verse 112 (and the following verses) of Surah Al-Mu’minun which translate as follow:-

He will say: "What number of years did ye stay on earth?"

They will say: "We stayed a day or part of a day: but ask those who keep account."

He will say: "Ye stayed not but a little,- if ye had only known!

"Did ye then think that We had created you in jest, and that ye would not be brought back to Us (for account)?"

Therefore exalted be Allah, the King, the Reality: there is no god but He, the Lord of the Throne of Honour!

If anyone invokes, besides Allah, Any other god, he has no authority therefor; and his reckoning will be only with his Lord! and verily the Unbelievers will fail to win through!

So say: "O my Lord! grant Thou forgiveness and mercy for Thou art the Best of those who show mercy!"

Al-Mu’minun: 112-118

Happy birthday to my father, who turns 47 today. May Allah bless you always. I love you very much.

Good grief

Last night snow revisited- unforeseen by, well, me at least. I never checked the weather forecast anyway. Spring was already manifest for the past 2-3 weeks, so to suddenly see pearly white patches on the ground this morning, was sweet. Of course, the sun melted all of them over the course of the day, and a ditch of water had me all over the edge of my trousers, but three cheers for three-degree’s worth of winter nostalgia. =D

So what’s new after one month of absence from writing? To sum it up in one sentence (‘cos I really need to get on with the picture-editing from my UK trip)- my sister and I received a fantastic parcel from home, I launched a ‘bring bentou’ campaign in the process to become, er, frugal, which proved to be rather successful, we operated on a cat, I finally got hold of a handphone (a friend lent me his old one) so people elsewhere on planet earth can communicate with me, my first attempt at making kek batik failed miserably (and after Flutterby said, “Don’t worry, nobody fails at making kek batik” too. Sob.), had a haircut, my 2nd attempt at competitive scrabble (3rd, if you count the one during matriculation) failed again (I’m such a pretender, I don’t even play scrabble), went to watch an orchestra (Mozart & Rossini), celebrated Women’s day in pink (haha), rekindled my passion for knitting (now the flame’s diminished again), and Russia elected their new president (‘Medved’ from Medvedev means ‘bear’, by the way).

From home, I learned about Malaysia’s revolutionary election, my 14-year-old brother’s triumph in state-level photography competition (do visit his flickr, he shoots brilliant pics with his point-and-shoot camera), the birth of new offspring (the cat’s, mind), and the latest pet to roam home sweet home- a tarantula. Way to go, guys!

There. As Charlie Brown would say, “Good grief”.

The Naivety That's Me

Today, reality has faded away and fierce delusion is filling the void. The world can’t get more paradoxical than it already is, and I, even I, have begun to question the path I’m treading, the round earth I’m gravitating desperately so to. Yes, I am aware of the grey patches underlying every predicament there is, yet I can’t ignore the absolute truth that governs every existence, the black and white keeping the nature in balance. I see grey, but I see it only natural to make everything as white as they can possibly be.

When something so misguided is so blatantly served before my eyes, I’m often torn between going all out to set things straight, or just let it be because there’s no point in changing things already spoilt rotten. People toying with my faith, for example. I will by no means fall for their ‘rational’ reasoning and arguments, but should I persist in explaining the wisdoms of my belief, or stop engaging in a presumably fruitless discussion? On one hand, what’s the point in a debate when you already know the results, right? On the other hand, I fear of being a hypocrite- pretending to be all devoted when I do nothing to defend my faith being ridiculed.

Recent discoveries made my stomach crawl at how naive I actually am in facing the many facets of the world. Prejudices abound, people fearing things they don’t even understand, and it’s only deemed politically correct for people to show respect to my religion. I knew about all these already, but the extent of it almost blew me away. I now really do feel like a tiny pea in a giant bowl of… pea soup. So insignificant.

Deep inside though, I’m trying, and hoping to be strong enough to rise against the tides someday. I have one thing which I can hold tight to my chest: my writing. My humble way of conveying thoughts- I wish to make something good out of it, something that will at the very least compel people to think. And now it appears as if I’ve almost forgotten about it. Amidst this so-called busy life of a medical student, ignorance has crept in.

A lot of things happened, but as of this moment, the world is still spinning. So no more excuses to myself, I hope! Nothing quite like writing to disentangle the knots in my head (except perhaps a cup of excellent tea); here’s wishing for better days to every writer out there (that’s about everyone, I guess;)).

Daripada Ali bin Abi Thalib r.a., "Bahawasanya kami sedang duduk bersama Rasulullah saw. di dalam masjid. Tiba-tiba datang Mus'ab bin Umair r.a. dan tiada di atas badannya kecuali hanya sehelai selendang yang bertampung dengan kulit. Tatkala Rasulullah saw.melihat kepadanya Baginda menangis dan menitiskan air mata kerana mengenangkan kemewahan Mus'ab ketika berada di Mekkah dahulu (kerana sangat dimanjakan oleh ibunya) dan kerana memandang nasib Mus'ab sekarang (ketika berada di Madinah sebagai seorang Muhajirin yang terpaksa meninggalkan segala harta benda dan kekayaan diMekkah). Kemudian Nabi Muhammad saw. bersabda, "Bagaimanakah keadaan kamu pada suatu saat nanti, pergi di waktu pagi dengan satu pakaian, dan pergi di waktu petang dengan pakaian yang lain pula. Dan bila diangkatkan satu hidangan diletakan pula satu hidangan yang lain. Dan kamu menutupi (menghias) rumah kamu sepertimana kamu memasang kelambu Ka'bah?". Maka jawab sahabat, "Wahai Rasulullah, tentunya di waktu itu kami lebih baik daripada di hari ini. Kami akan menberikan penumpuan kepada masalah ibadat sahaja dan tidak usah mencari rezeki". Lalu Nabi saw. bersabda, "Tidak! Keadaan kamu di hari ini adalah lebih baik daripada keadaan kamu di hari itu".

H.R. Tarmizi

A sorry post

Little can soothe these ruffled feathers at the moment; it’s like one of those bad hair days- stuff that won’t literally curse you to eternal doom but enough to make you feel like shaving your head off and start fresh. (Ahem). I’ve been in quite a scuffle with my time management lately, wanting to do this and that, but end up watching a super lousy film in between wasting away several empty DVDs (long story) and dealing with a suspected virus-infested laptop (scans came out clean- but then why is it painstakingly slow and lagging here and there? After I’ve deleted a lot of unused programs too). Starting of the new semester had me reeling with mixed emotions- of relieved farewell to a dreary subject, excitement on a new one, and pure repulsion at the timetable which had us have most of the lectures in the afternoon, in between two classes. It won’t rob me off my naptime; however, I’d prefer to be spared the guilt.

Back to my bulldozed state of mind, even now I can’t help but write junk, teetering away from my original intended piece of writing, which should be, of course, about my recent travel to UK. I will write about it, the soonest I can get after restoring some gravity back to my flailing, sorry self (and closet).

It is still winter in Russia.

ps: Happy 46th birthday to my mother (18th February)! Hope you'd had a wonderful day, one filled with joy and blessings from Allah. And happy belated birthday to my sister Aliah, who turned 17 on 14th February. I love you both.

Winter goodness

Note: the following accounts were separately written according to the time frame.

Three weeks ago.

Forlorn grey cloaked the sky for the past week; no more rays of evanescent warmth for you sun-lovers. Haha. I’m quite the sadist. Although now I’m actually the one having a jolly hard time contending with the frosty wind that keeps finding their shrewd way into our already-sealed windows. So by right I should be shuddering at this turn of weather and pray hard for spring to come to light. But I’m not, because… well. I love winter. Even if I did fall last week on the icy slope and got a brilliant green bruise on my thigh, or that my fingers were this close to getting frostbite (hyperbole) from dusting snow crumbs off my bag (inside out, too) due to evil works of a classmate (I got him back big time; don’t ever mess with the snow queen. Hoho). Because, because, because… the sight of pure white grounds beneath your feet with sparkling diamonds of frozen canopy above your head on the way to class is simply worth it. It’s like something out of Narnia, as someone puts it; enough to make anyone’s heart spouting poetry (a bad example in my case as you can see).

A fortnight ago.

When snow melts, there goes all the fun. In fact, that’s when trouble beckons. Picture streams, not just puddles, of mud that bar you from crossing the road to get to your hostel, and so you keep walking upward to find a better way out. The trouble is, there is no better way out, and you keep swaggering further and further from your destination until you’ve had it and decide to cross anyway, even though it means drenching the kain of your baju kurung, and yes, it is eid morning. Silver lining? It snows afterwards! And thank God for black baju kurungs =p

Last week.

Too slippery for words. Numerous wobbly moments. (Fall-o-meter: 0. Yay!).

Last night.

Temperature: 20-something degrees below zero. expected to reach 30 during the coming weekend.

Remember Balrog from the mines of Moria in The Lord of The Rings? Remember the dum-dum sounds the Fellowship heard before that fiery ancient demon appeared (did those come from him or the Orcs before that, btw? Argh, must have a rerun again sometime soon.)? Well, the sounds banging against the window of our room at this moment eerily resemble the aforesaid ones. Outside, you can even see violent swirls of wind as they fuse with traces of snowflakes (I saw but a glimpse from the kitchen window, a friend related the more violent ones). Luckily it’s a one-week New Year holiday now, so I don’t have to experience this vicious side of Mother Nature firsthand. But then, being cooped up in the hostel isn’t such a cozy idea either, since our condition here is nowhere near the word cozy, or even acceptable. We’re living in a giant freezer. Imagine me wearing long johns, two woolen jumpers, an over-sized sweater, two pairs of socks, and shivering after half an hour typing on the laptop…(?!!) And they forbid us to buy our own heater because we may whack the circuit dry, which is the case every night because almost everybody secretly owns a heater anyway (not me, though. I’m an Eskimo wannabe). And can anyone blame these people after seeing those feeble, metal thingies they suspiciously call heaters? It’s come to a point where I have to sleep either with my headphones on or by cocooning my entire body inside the blanket because my ears can’t stand the cold. Sad, sad, sad. I already lodged a complaint to our rep so, well, I guess we can only wait. And wait we will, do count on it.




Both pics: Frost on glass. 9th February 2006.


Motifs on the wall of the central market. 8th April 2006.


Impressive facade of a bank, somewhere nearby the academy. 17th July 2006.


Messing around with fallen leaves. 15th November 2005.

Let justice prevail

This is waaay outdated, but I just paid a visit to my uncle's fotopage, and found this awesome piece of photojournalism. And another awesome piece by another uncle. Being far away from home, I did get my dose of news from Malaysian mainstream media, amongst others. Reminding myself that any form of media were entitled to chunks of bias, it wasn't until a friend who took part in the rally related his version of events that I came close to knowing the whole story. And thanks to these brilliant works too. Like what Acu said, and I quote, Malaysia' political theatre is about to change.

And I pray hard for that.

Kudos, uncles! Hehe.

Bottleneck part of life

Last week of the semester- I can't believe it's finally here. Caught in the maelstrom of concluding tests as per norm (four to be exact), I should be at about the end of my tether now from nonstop slogging, right? Unfortunately, life's not that simple. Hehe. What am I babbling... Anyway. The talk about town (read: my circle of friends. hence very small town. lol) lately seemed to revolve around that bottleneck part of life: adulthood. It sorta stings to admit that we’ve now reached the status of adults… for my part at least.

Looking back, I did go through the phase of eagerly wanting to grow up and dismissing warnings from certain adults at the time about the burdens of adulthood that came with the freedom, especially when they kept telling us to enjoy our teenage years whilst they lasted. My juvenile thought then- these people had probably forgotten what it was like to be a teenager- the most difficult job in the world. Haha. Not quite, but almost. Now I'm thinking, how selfish and immature I was back then. Yet I wonder: is it simply because of the experience that makes us reconsider our position, or that our thinking process has completely evolved over the years and changed us so? For whenever I was misunderstood as a teenager, my first thought would be- why couldn't they understand? Weren’t they teenagers once? On the other hand, I've found myself starting to laugh off some of my younger sister's thoughts and complaints as 'those angst-y moments'; she probably thinks I'm sounding more and more like a mak cik too (hopefully not).

I actually fear that- the thought that I might forget what it's really like to be a teenager. I'd like to think that I've only become more mature and wiser as I grow older, but it's just a whole different system of thoughts really, between teenagers and adults. Experience does warrant for some of an adult’s altered outlooks, which may be better, but at times it comes down to the fact that we interpret things with different eyes, both of which may be right and sound in their own respect. And appreciating both entities of cognition will help adults to identify with younger generation better and develop mutual understanding between the two. Teenagers can't possibly stand in adults' shoes as they've never been one themselves, thus I hope not to forget the essence of my teenage years- so I can probably fill in some blanks during any run-in with my younger contemporaries in the future.

I realise I'm sounding rather cryptic and probably not making a lot of sense to most people. And further, I'm only 21. I may be allowed to vote, but adulthood calls for more than casting a ballot, or making lists of groceries to buy. I constantly worry about everything there is, yet I make silly mistakes all the time. When I finally thought I might have figured things out, something outrageous would come up to wash any notions away. I’ve a long way to go. And a belated birthday card a few days ago with the words “Welcome to adulthood love!” added considerably to the pressure. Haha. Thank you for the vote of confidence, but for now, and I suspect a good more while to come, I’m still a teenager.

On another unrelated matter- since I won’t have a camera for at least the next seven months or so, I’m going to post old, never-before-published pictures. Hehe. Just to kill some time browsing through my folders, as I’ve got nothing better to do other than studying for the aforesaid tests (Mak and Abah, please don’t kill me for saying this). =)


The closest thing to a surau we could get in the academy. 8th December 2005.


Farah waiting for prayer time. 8th December 2005.


23rd October 2005. These days she could practically hide the laptop underneath her furry body.


What could be so funny about Latin, eh? 17th March 2006.


At Mamayev Kurgan; Mother Russia in far background (I forgot the name of the other statue). 26th May 2006.

To be continued... :)

Total randomness

It seems ages since I actually did some writing that I feel rather weird doing so now. Words constantly failed me- too much kuih raya corroding my creativity. Most heartfelt thanks to my parents who sent me and my sister the now-traditional raya parcel. =D The kuihs are almost finished, by the way, Mocha Nestume being the most popular. Even the separa-hancur pineapple tarts were swiftly done with. Never contend the appetites of good-food-deprived students, I say.

As de rigueur, at least one paragraph would be reserved for snippets of my wistful thoughts embodying the keener nuance of my evolving self- otherwise known as blubbering. And today, after quietly reflecting over a cup of Earl Grey, the whole brouhaha in my conscience boiled down to one disturbing fact: my Russian’s dreadful. And to think that I’ll be sitting for Russian exam at the end of the semester. Woo-hoo. It’s hitting me quite hard, now that I’ve just started to care about its, well, pathetic state, because in truth I really like learning languages. It’s kind of my forte (besides tripping, falling, and other forms of self-humiliation). But Russian…

It’s a difficult language, Russian. Personally, in terms of complexity, I think it rivals Arabic for the various rules and cases. Still, if only I had worked harder, I could be having that desired conversation with the taxi driver back in first year now (even though, after 2 years of adapting, I’ve learned the value of money and avoid taxis as much as I could. LOL). Yeah, we had had some bad luck with our teacher being sick for a long time during first year, hampering our classes (subs teachers didn’t seem too interested in our progress). And yeah, we had had a new teacher for our second year who didn’t speak a word of English (except perhaps, “Now, listen to me”) and was a little, uh, disagreeable, making learning extra difficult, and halfway through a lot of us had become disinterested.

But. These are excuses, the allegory of my weak alter ego. If I had really wanted to, I could have put more effort to it. Practice the language; speak up. But I’m a person who is scared of making mistakes- scared of making a botch of the grammar, sentence structure and whatnots, thus ended up not speaking at all. Silly, wishy-washy wimp, you could say that. Honestly, I can't imagine myself speaking fluent Russian by the end of my studies here. The best I could hope for is probably successful bargaining with Mak ciks at the market ;p

Another wistful thought: after two years, I think it's safe to finally conclude that I actually like it here. Ok, I admit that half of the verdict (perhaps more) is due to my ridiculously optimistic, er, optimism, which tries to perceive everything coming my way as a life-shaping experience. Yes, I whine, I cry, I kick (only the door of my closet, don't worry ;p), and I do say I'm depressed a lot, but at the end of the day, I would come to realise that my state is actually much better than a lot others- even the people around me. Even the scum who stole my kolbasa (giant meat sausage <-- dunno how else to describe it! haha), mascarpone cheese, ginger, and spaghetti sauce a few days ago failed to irk me that much, compared to the others (massive 'robbery' occurred in our floor). Sometimes I do wonder why at times I sound rather angry when in truth I am not, not really. Just that there are times when I feel like there's a sudden rush of emotions running through my veins and things would just happen- things that I would regret only a second after.

I'm starting to sound like someone suffering from bipolar disorder. In conclusion, yeah, it's pretty nice to be living here, in a foreign land, learning more about what life can offer. Heck, I can even tolerate eating salads now. I kind of like them even (although they're more of a “so bad it’s good” variety. LOL).

I noticed a change in me that surprised me a bit though, one that I'm not sure is for the better or worse. Perhaps I've mentioned this before in an entry- the fact that I've taken a quieter front around people in the community. Friends not close to me may find me rather aloof and unfriendly (or shy, if they're being nice ;p), but those who are close to me, I think I'm really easy to figure out. Eh? =D In spite of it, I don't feel bad for the change, although i do wonder, where has the old me gone...

Final thought: Are Malays really hard to identify? I mean, I can understand being mistaken for an Indonesian or a Singaporean, or even a Filipino, but you won't believe the variety of races/nationalities I've been 'accused' of being for the past two years. Let's see... Vietnamese, Indian, American, Korean, Afghan, Iranian... even Brazilian. It's amusing. The peculiar thing is, most of the people would not straightly ask our origin- instead they find the fun in guessing, albeit a little unwittingly. All in all, it's good to encounter these people anytime, rather than the ones who would suddenly jump on you, babbling in angry Russian for reasons you would never comprehend.

Today's entry is really random, eh? I guess it's the post-withdrawal effect. haha. I'm calling it a day now- had a very bad case of food poisoning last night which continued right till today afternoon. Even now, my stomach is constantly making this rumbling motorcycle noise. Vrooom.

Cuaca dah mula sejuk...

I have been tagged by Uncle P5. So, being the obedient niece I am, here goes... (note that everything stated below are subject to rapid change)

5 menda dalam beg galas aku...
1. Buku rujukan, buku tulis, dan semua yang berkaitan dengan pelajaran (itu pun masih selalu tertinggal ini la, itu la.)
2. 'Lab coat', atau orang di sini panggil 'white gown'. Sangat berkedut-kedut.
3. Bekas pensel- penyumbang 25% daripada berat beg, sebab saya sumbat segala macam keperluan ke dalamnya.
4. Cermin mata- khas untuk penggunaan semasa kuliah (kalau tak tertidur).
5. Novel 'Great Expectations' oleh Charles Dickens, one of my favourite authors. Recommended by dad.

5 menda dalam dompet aku...
1. Duit dan resit (nisbah 1:3. Hahaha).
2. Kad ATM, kad ahli Krasniy Kub, kad ISIC, Kad diskaun travel ke Europe, Kad kumpulan darah, dan sebagainya.
3. Koleksi gambar pasport keluarga, kawan-kawan, dan haiwan peliharaan.
4. 5 butir (?) kekunci yang terpelanting dari papan kekunci laptop saya tempoh hari (termasuk kekunci 'delete'! Tsk).
5. Sim card MTS yang direject bulat-bulat oleh handphone saya yang sedang sakit (Nak rawat dan handphone ni masih under warranty, tapi dah puas cari, tak jumpa-jumpa cebisan kertas keramat tersebut).

5 menda feveret dalam bilik tido...
1. Sekarang cuaca sudah mula sejuk, maka- selimut!
2. Laptop
3. Quran dan tafseer
4. Dinding (sesiapa yang selalu lawat bilik saya akan faham) dan cermin (cermin bilik baru ni macam tipu sikit- semua orang nampak lebih kurus. I like! Haha).
5. Rak buku dan CD (tapi selalu terfikir bagaimana nak angkut balik semua ni bila dah tamat belajar nanti).

5 menda aku wish nak buat...
1. Beli sebuah televisyen. Hehe.
2. Berbasikal ke kelas.
3. Tonton perlawanan Roger Federer-Pete Sampras dan Rafael Nadal-Richard Gasquet di Kuala Lumpur bulan depan.
4. Ponteng lectures Patho. Anatomy
5. Tangkap gambar musim luruh (takde camera!!! nangis!).

5 menda aku buat skarang...
1. Check emails
2. Download manga
3. Hafal puisi 'Ya Vas Lyubil' (I Loved You Once) untuk test kelas Russian esok (tapi dah extend kepada kajian tentang kehidupan Pushkin pula. The wonders of technology).
4. Menggigil (tapi malas capai stokin; selimut masih terlipat kemas, macam sayang pula nak guna. Haha).
5. Makan waffle berintikan strawberi.

5 orang kroni yang patut kena tag sekali...
Minta maaf, saya tak ada kroni. Haa.

And below is the aforementioned poem (and translation) for tomorrow's test- simply sharing the pain. ;p (No offence, I like the poem).

Я вас любил: любовь еще, быть может
В душе моей угасла не совсем;
Но пусть она вас больше не тревожит;
Я не хочу печалить вас ничем.
Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно,
То робостью, то ревностью томим;
Я вас любил так искренно, так нежно,
Как дай вам бог любимой быть другим.

I loved you once: perhaps that love has yet
To die down thoroughly within my soul;
But let it not dismay you any longer;
I have no wish to cause you any sorrow.
I loved you wordlessly, without a hope,
By shyness tortured, or by jealousy.
I loved you with such tenderness and candor
And pray God grants you to be loved that way again.

Wake me up when September ends

I've been considerably chided by a couple of friends for the lack of words on my blog during the holiday, and decently so. How should I say this, eh- to put it in straightforward Latin- I'd got my caput inter nubile. *guffaws* And instead of carpe diem, my motto throughout the two glorious months would more aptly be carpe noctem. So in between all those unfettered busying, I'm afraid there wasn't much left for creative writing, unless I was J.K. Rowling and wouldn't give a hoot about saving up for another year of bland food and incomprehensible entertainment whilst indulging in the glorious sea of ink and quills (or keyboards, more like). For those who couldn't fathom my encrypted language, give it up. I'm blubbering. And why shouldn't I be, when I have been coolly tossed out of my room for two years into a floor full of 'testosterone-laden creatures', as my mother put it (hehe gonna reply your email very soon). I made my case to the guy-in-charge at the dean's office this afternoon who forced me to put across everything in Russian even though he understood English perfectly (probably so that I couldn't babble my heart out, very smart move), before telling me not to worry cos this whole jamboree of an affair was only temporary and would be sorted out very soon. Then he shoo-ed me before I could press further for specifics. Anyhow, it was a relief to know that I won't have to play seesaw with the male-free floor above for shower and other, er, stuff for the entire academic year. Although I'm nauseated at the prospect of packing up yet again for another move if necessary (I'm not exactly the most organised person alive, see). It isn't very helpful either that I've started my classes and the teachers so far have successfully foreshadowed a semester of everlasting fire for us small fries. Yet still, I (unintentionally) slept throughout a third of our first ever lecture today, despite my solemn vow to copy everything this time around. Well, well.

Despite my one-paragraph-madwoman yackety-yak above, I'm still sane, thank goodness. Quite a few words now, wouldn't you say, (ex)Roomie A? =D

A couple of random pictures in the CD my father made me (most pictures were in an unfamiliar format, dunno why. Abah??)


My beloved friend, Faezar and I at my grandfather's kenduri. She said the only times she eat mutton curry would be at our kenduris. Haha.


My sisters, aunt, and I. We were having breakfast at my grandfather's before heading off to Kuala Tembeling and Fraser's Hill. For further news on the latter, please ask my mum and dad.


Nabihah and Erfa, two of my dearest friends during a meeting at KLCC a day before my flight.


With Aki, the day I left for KL.