This is so interesting!!!!!!

It mentions the horrific Abu Ghraib incident and the famous Stanford Prison experiment, 

the latter of which Philip Zimbardo himself was involved.

There are 3 paths we can choose to walk on:

(i) The path of villainy

(ii) The path of passive indifference

(iii) The path of hero

7 Social Processes that Grease the Slippery Slope of Evil:

(i) Mindlessly taking the first small step

(ii) Dehumanization of others

(iii) De-individuation of self (Anonymity)

(iv) Diffusion of personal responsibility

(v) Blind obedience to authority

(vi) Uncritical conformity to group norms

(vii) Passive tolerance of evil through inaction or indifference

---

I was at a small sharing session about special needs kids, by Sheikh Abdel Aziz Ahmed Fredericks (who has a cool, therapy-like job, besides teaching Islamic knowledge).

A mother had asked how she could explain to her daughter why her brother who had significant difficulties was going to Jannah, despite being "so naughty". And because there is a belief that special individuals have a free ticket to heaven, are we not depriving children with special needs of that space in Jannah by trying to remediate or rehabilitate them?

The sheikh started with saying that everyone has their own ibtilah. And it is how we respond to that challenge in life that brings us closer to God. There is this hadith:

Rasulullah (sal Allahu alaihi wa sallam) said: "Allah said, 'If I deprive my slave of his two beloved things (his eyes) and he remains patient, I will let him enter Paradise in compensation for them.'" [Sahih Bukhari] 

But it is not for the fact that he is blind that he goes to paradise; it is his patience. So every ibtilah, has its corresponding passing grade, we could say. Also, regardless of the ibtilah, one still has to strive to be a good slave. So for some people, their challenge is to be patient, to keep smiling despite an affliction, and that will win them God's mercy. And for some people, because their ibtilah or difficulty on Earth is so great, all they need to do is breathe, and they have God's mercy and a place in heaven.

Subhanallah. I really wanted to cry. I'm sure some of the parents already were.

I think everyone should attempt at least once in their healthy adult lives to live with an elderly, and also with an infant child (preferably at separate times because a double whammy like that will render the carer beyond exhaustion). It affords a sobering reminder and perspective of the frailty of human life. How truly independent can anyone be, if this is how we begin and how we end (if we even get that far)?


If ever I happen to be reduced to my most basic instincts and routines, I hope the words primed on my lips will be of You.

Why can't popular music today be more of this strain and less of the nudity and sex and just licentiousness all around?

Music can be so inspiring. 

This was probably Mariah Carey at her best, hands down.

I used to sing this song all the time when I was younger.

Just reminiscing, 

and thinking about dreams, 

and looking for my hero.

Beauty is the thing least understood, but the most commercialised.

-- Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad




It's December again! It feels like my class only just graduated as newly qualified STs, and I can't believe we're already a year into doing this.

This year has been new, awesome, scary, exciting, but also heartbreaking -- and Alhamdulillah for all of that! At the end of every year, I feel very grateful to be able to look back on the year. I've realised, some people don't reach the end of the year. Insya Allah, 2014 will be even better, Amin. (:

Some of the awesome things this year:

-- Resuming Arabic and making awesome Arabic-learning friends.
-- Starting work, and slowly learning to love my colleagues and my work.
-- Being able to work in Medan! A total highlight, honestly.
-- Australia trip, for SPA conference; and then spotting whales!
-- Becoming all-confident-and-independent-woman and learning to attend weddings alone.
-- Book of the year: Quiet (or actually, my current read will likely triumph when I'm done: Martin Lings's Muhammad s.a.w., his life from the earliest sources)
-- Learnt to open up my heart a bit more to people, albeit slowly -- learning to love unconditionally is a life-long journey, it seems
-- Becoming more certain of myself and my capabilities -- that I can be quite bold and brave when it's about things close to my heart

And tomorrow -- going off to visit the family in the Middle East. Hello, desert people!

I was thinking tonight.

That what I should fear most is realising, down the road in life or in the afterlife, that God had given me so many options and signposts, but I didn't take them. Please, My Lord, show me the way and help me have the courage to walk the way.

Cause sometimes, I feel so hesitant -- like I have to be 110% sure of something before I do it. Like I usually ask myself uncountable times -- Does it feel right? Does it feel right? Does it feel right? Before with trembling hands, I venture to take the first step.

I've discovered the awesomeness that was Dr Martin Lings.

An excerpt from his autobiography:

“Development” means moving away from the principles, and although it is necessary to move a certain distance from the principles in order to make applications of them, it is of vital importance to remain near enough for contact with them to be fully effective. Development must therefore never go beyond a certain point. Our ancestors were acutely conscious that this danger point had been reached in Islam hundreds of years ago; and for us, who are so much further removed in time than they were from the ideal community of the Prophet and his companions, the danger is all the greater. How then shall we presume not to be on our guard? How shall we presume not to live in fear of increasing our distance from the principles to the point where development becomes degeneration? And indeed it may well be asked as regards most of what is proudly spoken of today as development: Is it not in fact degeneration?


Also, his book on the sirah of the Prophet s.a.w. is just amazing to read. And it is available online! This is where I wish I had a LINE sticker to express how speechless and happy I am, because I have no words.




You know how you finally stumble on some crazy significant things, and you think -- what, where have you been all my life before? Why did I take so long.

After seeing a gazillion tumblr posts on it, I finally decided to watch A Very Potter Musical -- and it's such a riot! If you hadn't heard, it's a staged fan-made parody of Harry Potter that was first produced back in 2009 and then later spawned two more sequels that finished last year.

It's a parody, so of course, the plot and characters are made whacky -- for instance, Draco Malfoy rolls and slithers all over the ground every time he tries to make an entrance (I'm wondering if it's an attempt to be cool or like Cleopatra or something???). It's ridiculously funny! Voldemort has relationship issues and loves to dance. Harry compares his life to Spiderman's and explains to Ginny why they can't be together. Snape explains to the class that a portkey can be any sort of seemingly harmless object, like a football or a dolphin.

Haha, the insane lines, and the fandom fodder.

Ya Allah, to You I complain of my weakness,
my lack of resources and my lowliness before men.
Oh, Most Merciful of those who show mercy!
You are the Lord of the weak and You are my Lord.
To whom will you relinquish my fate?
To one who will misuse me?
Or to an enemy to whom You have given power over me?
If You are not angry with me, I don't care what happens to me.
Your favour is all that counts for me.
I take refuge in the light of Your countenance,
by which all darkness is illuminated.
And the things of this world and the next are rightly ordered.
I wish to please You until You are pleased.
There is no power and no might, 
save in You.

- Rasulullah s.a.w.



How much I love this.

there is no better exercise for the heart than lifting others

Back from Medan!

The work was great; didn't feel so much like work, although it was exhausting in its way. We conducted a 3-day workshop for special needs teachers. I lectured my parts entirely in Bahasa Indonesia and translated for my colleagues half the time. By the end of the third day, I sounded so much like an Indonesian, the locals started thinking I was one of them. (Hooray -- I am so not-so-secretly proud of my language skills, hehe.) Thinking about it now, actually, I would be mortified if I had to lecture anything entirely in Malay in Singapore. But when you're forced into a situation, you kinda just do it, you know.

A group picture at the end of the workshop:

I could keep doing things like this, I could. And it makes me think about my obligations here in SG -- I've been meaning to do things but I haven't gathered the guts to finally put my mind to it. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. If I keep saying it like a mantra, haha, maybe it'll help, insya Allah.

I keep wishing I'd have people to do things with. It's much easier, always, to do things together, in big groups or even in small ones. It takes the load off; the work, the accountability, the pressure. But then, while in Medan, and meeting these generous, big-hearted people -- I'd learnt something: though in the long run big projects are sustained through the efforts of many, it is usually a single person who had the guts to start. God, make me brave.




On a rather separate note, I have been re-watching bits of Downton Abbey, and fangirling over Dame Maggie Smith. She is crazy, adorable, hilarious and secretly smarter than all the rest of us put together.

Leaving for Medan tomorrow to do volunteer speech therapy -- and I get volunteer leave. Occasionally, it appears the hospital system has some awesome in it.


Alhamdulillah! Thank You for allowing me to do work that I feel I'd do anyway, for free. (:

It feels kinda nice that I come back to the same quotes and words over the years. It's like meeting an old friend or something -- like hey, I remember you. And thank you for the comfort you bring.



People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centred.
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you.
Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.
Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten.
Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.
Give your best anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.



This has commonly been attributed to Mother Teresa, but I have learnt that yes, it was written on the wall in Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta; but it likely wasn't penned entirely by her.

Regardless. (:

Why is there ikhtilaf, disagreement, conflict?

I understand it's so that we may be tolerant of one another. And higher than that, to be appreciative of those that make life tough for us.

When nothing seems to help, I go look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow it will split in two, and I know it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before. 

Jacob Riis

vmars

I am so totally looking forward to the movie!

Veronica is by far the smartest and coolest girl on American TV, ever. 

Challenge me on this, anyone.

And then her saga with Logan, oh man.

Why, Logan, why. 

Why do you disappoint our awesome girl.

I don't know which scene best represents this pairing (I was considering the moment when Logan describes how they were epic -- except of course, he totally screws it up again the next morning) -- but then I realise this song -- Sway, by the Perishers -- 

will always remain a LoVe song for me:

God, make me bigger than myself

Love, love, love, love, love, love, love this!

I've been thinking how it's so easy to get lost in the daily grind of things as a working adult, chasing after typical adult achievements and milestones. It's so nice to be reminded that there are amazing people who break the norm and work for great things.

---

We all have this need to justify our existence, and if no one else valued my life, then of what value was it? If it had no value, why live at all?

A Muslim does not view his or her surrender to God as a defeat or a humiliation; he or she sees it as the only way to real freedom and becoming a human being in the full sense of the word. Thus, for the Muslim, Islam is more than a religion. It is a system of guidance: inward toward his true self and outward toward his fellow creatures, with his return to his Lord as his ultimate goal. At least seventeen times a day in the course of the five daily prayers the Muslim asks God to “show us the straight path”—the middle way which leads to inner peace. If it is found, then a passage is unveiled to a powerful, beautiful, and serene felicity in this life and to an infinitely greater one in the next. Man’s life is a struggle and a search for a wonderful, sublime, and most sweet surrender, and fortunate are those who attain that, for every human personality, whether it realizes it or not, yearns for submission—that is, Islam.

-- Struggling to Surrender, by Dr. Jeffrey Lang 

(it's a wonderfully free e-book that can be found here!)

A book I had noted somewhere to look up, and I finally happily did: 

about a man chronicling his journey to God.

When I am silent, 
I have thunder hidden inside.

-- Rumi



Why does it feel like every new week brings new challenges that crush my heart?

A father's letter to his Down's Syndrome child

This was so beautiful. Made me cry a river.

I too have heard from parents themselves, 

how they realise having a special child has been such a blessing.

Trust in Allah.

Trust in Rasulullah s.a.w..

When something seemingly undesirable happens in life,

realise that it too, comes from above.

So, Alhamdulillah.

Insya Allah, you'll see the blessings some day.

I was digging up that epic, blog exchange from a few years back, between Charles Wanke and Rosemary Urquico (Don't Date A Girl Who Reads, vs. Date A Girl Who Reads), and I found this instead:

(which trumps either because it's poetry!)

Your rainbow is shaded violet.

What is says about you: You are a creative person. You appreciate beauty and craftsmanship. You are patient and will keep trying to understand something until you've mastered it.

Find the colors of your rainbow at spacefem.com.

Insya Allah, I am patient.



Had a nice dinner with friends tonight; a lovely end to a rather difficult week, not that the bedbug boy had anything to do with it, haha.

I've been thinking, and thinking so hard about whether I should blog, but then I realise I can't bring myself to. Not right now; maybe I will, on some other night. When I feel less like a bruised melon.

So instead I leave myself with this:

"You’re not bitter," he said. "He left you, too, and you’re not bitter. How do you manage that? Is it some Gryffindor thing I’ll never understand? I thought maybe," and he looked back down at his shoes, "maybe you didn’t care about him anymore."

"I do care," she said.

"But what if he isn’t worth it?"

She sighed. When she leaned back against the window, the glass was cold against her skin. “He is worth it. But even if he wasn’t, that wouldn’t mean I was wrong or foolish to love him, or that my loving him had been a mistake. We don’t love people because they deserve it. In the end what’s important is what that love says about you, that you’re capable of loving someone like that; most people aren’t capable of a tenth of that kind of real love, a hundredth of it. Most people would be terrified of it, if they could even imagine it. But you aren’t — you weren’t. You broke that bottle of antidote without thinking about it — ”

"Not entirely," said Draco, "without thinking about it."

This verse:

“Do you suppose that you will enter Paradise untouched by the suffering endured by the people of faith who passed away before you? They were afflicted by misery and hardship and were so convulsed that the Messenger and the believers with him cried out: ‘When will Allah’s help arrive?’ They were assured: ‘Behold, Allah’s help is close by.’” 2:214

It makes me scared... I mean, does it imply that if my life has not been afflicted to such an extent, it will be at some point? Otherwise, if I haven't been hit with such misery, have I been overlooked by God -- which is surely worse than being afflicted?

Or maybe, I have been hit with misery before, just that I don't know it -- haha, what the ridiculousness.

Or... I'm thinking -- the you addressed in this, as always, is Rasulullah s.a.w. (and his sahabahs); who as pioneers of the Deen were tested to the ends of their endurance in order to establish the ummah.

Oh noes -- what I should really do is ask someone who might actually know the answer.

Okay, goodnight.

Nows-adays, I like to remember the line: 

Keep on walking ahead though the answer can't be seen.

Have recently been connecting situations to peribahasa Melayu:

Bawa resmi padi, makin berisi, makin tunduk.

and

Hendak seribu daya, tak hendak seribu dalih.

endless game

Usually, I prefer the genki ni natte type of songs from Arashi. 

But I've recently started on Sho's J-drama Kazoku Game, and it's been intriguing;

 and this weird and confusing song has gotten to me (6 months late! have been so out of the JE loop).

The world dims

My memory rewinds

What is there?

Let's open that door

Reset to reality

Go on ahead to the end

Though the answer can't be seen

I feel like the song really is about Sho's character -- Yoshimoto Kouya, whose true identity is part of the mystery arc of the whole drama. Clearly, the guy has issues: working as a tutor to save a boy from bullying in the day, but every night retreats into a guilt-ridden hell about his mysterious past. 

SPOILER

(from the finale of Supernatural Season 8)

These Winchester brothers -- made me cry over their love.

And made me remember why I love this story.

#$%@$^$#%@^$ propaganda crap!

What the frak is this?!?!

To say that I am annoyed with this piece of propaganda crap is an understatement.

I found this from mr.brown's post here, that he took from The Straits Times.

So typical of the kiasu government to think that the moment we endeavour to take a little breather and step off the accelerator, our lives will careen completely into poverty. 

Takde iman! 

is what my Mum would say.

Stop treating Singaporeans like bloody fools, can or not.

Also, this was exactly what I was arguing about with my friends the other day, and for it to be officially thrown in my face like this by our local paper -- wah, really sets me on fire. Not to mention that my dad is sick after working the entire weekend and Monday (because of the Singtel cable catching fire episode) -- and now seeing this. Eeesh. We are not hamsters on a wheel.

One who wraps himself

             By Rumi 

God called the Prophet Muhammad Muzzammil,
“The One Who Wraps Himself,”
and said,
“Come out from under your cloak, you so fond
of hiding and running away.

Don’t cover your face.
The world is a reeling, drunken body, and you
are its intelligent head.
Don’t hide the candle
of your clarity. Stand up and burn
through the night, my prince.

Without your light
a great lion is held captive by a rabbit!

Be the captain of the ship,
Mustafa, my chosen one,
my expert guide.
Look how the caravan of civilization
Has been ambushed.
Fools are everywhere in charge.
Do not practice solitude like Jesus. Be in
the assembly,
and take charge of it.
As the bearded griffin,
the Humay, lives on Mt. Qaf because he’s native to it,
so you should live most naturally out in public
and be a communal teacher of souls.”

nina!

This girl is so good with her languages! Now that I've worked substantially with parents and their kids, I feel it's partly cause Papa is excellent with her that she's become so good, really. Yes, occasionally, he makes her copy words or phrases, but Papa usually employs typical stimulation strategies we use in clinic, such as: 

(i) following her lead (this kid basically has her Papa around her pinky, but she's such a wonderful little girl, it doesn't matter!)

(ii) never negating what she says or forcing her to say certain words, only rephrasing or repeating to give her the correct model of language 

(iii) adding on to her ideas by expanding on her utterances

(iv) thinking of ways to make her say more by cueing her e.g. pretending he doesn't know the answer or saying the wrong answer

Even in this other video below, he does similar things. Okay, he asks her a lot of questions here, but since she's able to answer them and he also keeps commenting, it's fine. Not 3 years and Nina already has all her wh- questions down and has adjectives and descriptives in her vocabulary.

If I ever have kids, I want them like Nina.

Little girls are awesome and wonderfully chatty. And you're guaranteed so much love (if you raise them right). How have people in history not wanted them before? Insyirah gave voice texts via whatsapp addressing her Nanis and her Amatis and telling us to come see her in Qatar -- so cute, I want to dieeeee. And it makes me anticipate the December holiday even more.

This may seem confusing, but I love it. One of the most necessary things to understand about our religion, I feel.

Islam is a practical religion. It deals with human beings as they are, not as they should be. I mean, there's always the should-be there, but it deals with them as they are, and then makes that as they are, as it should be, given they are like that. That's what Islam does. It takes human beings as they are, not as they should be -- but it makes the as-they-are as-it-should-be, given that they're like that. 

- Shaykh Hamza, The Rights and Responsibilities of Marriage

Gaksital -- I should totally go and get this for keeps already, like I've been meaning to.

I've said before right, how this drama is so, so good.

(Eunice, this means I might force this on you, haha)

Reasons (in brief) why Gaksital is awesome:

(i) a complete bastard turns into a hero, and the process is waaay intriguing (my favourite kind of story!)

(ii) best friends on opposite sides of a war -- can you hear the heartbreak already?

(iii) hero is very very very flawed, and therefore made very real

(iv) hero is also a genius, or completely nuts, depending on how you look at it

(v) hero has a precarious disguise that makes you want to die of suspense almost every episode

(vi) there is a long historical back story involved

(vii) villains are nuanced! and 3-dimensional! that's not a common thing in k-drama

(viii) there is a strong heroine -- whoo! and she hates our hero almost to the very end!

(ix) intense, extreme, ?hate-love romance -- I don't even know if this is the appropriate term to label it with, because frak, it's so complicated?!

(x) this is essentially historical fiction
(xi) cinematography is gorgeous, and acting is top-notch

yay.

I'm finally working through Season 8 of Supernatural (Season 9 airing sometime soon! hooray for cult followings). Honestly, since the end of Season 5 or so, I've lost track of the number of times Sam and Dean and even Castiel have died and gone to heaven or hell or purgatory, and back to the mortal plane, haha. The overall plot appears to have taken a stroll down crack lane, more or less. But I still enjoy each episode; it sticks to the winning, episodic-mystery-based formula, where we have Sam and Dean, regardless of bigger plot arcs, hunting evil in its various forms.

And really, I just love the Winchester boys, and that's why I keep watching.

A nutso clip that had me laughing away -- Dean as William Wallace

When you're present with God, you're present with creation.

-- Shaykh Hamza




:(

The sad feeling that comes after you know you didn't end up doing what you intended to do, what you were supposed to.

no, I'm not jaded

I was on the bus leaving yet another wedding this weekend, and this younger girl who I'd been briefly introduced to at the wedding, came on the bus as well and after saying hi, she asked, "So, are you getting married too?"

I smiled and said, "No."

And she asked, "Why! Are you jaded?"

Ohmygod, she cracked me up. I decided right that moment that I liked her very much. It was the way she said it. She didn't say it in the how-come-you're-not-marriage-is-a-wonderful-thing way, but the I'm-twenty-and-I'm-so-jaded-about-life-could-you-be-jaded-too manner. She'd somehow pounced on the discovery that a woman my age wasn't getting married. (Yet, I silently added.) I think, in some ways she reminded me of a younger version of myself.

I explained that it's not that I don't want to get married, but that not every girl has their Prince Charming land on one knee in front of them. Besides, it'd probably be kinda boring if everyone had that story? Maybe I'm supposed to be Princess Charming instead? I don't know.

She said, "Yeah! Also, you could travel. And see the world."

I was so amused. "Yes, I could."

We talked some about my work, about life, and she was genuinely interested in speech therapy (and asked if she could do that if she wanted). And I felt like I was imparting some great wisdoms, the way she seemed to devour what I said.

When she got off, I kept smiling to myself. I thought, this is a good place too, where I am. Maybe -- as long as you face head on life's challenges, and think, what does God want me to learn to be here, and strive hard, you'll end up in a good place -- and that's all that matters. (I'd had this thought too just the day before at work, when one of my senior colleagues made me pause as she gave me strategies on how to be super efficient with writing patient notes.) That every life event, every moment, is created to create a better you. And as long as you strive to fulfill your part, your end of the bargain, you'll hopefully one day end up in a happy place, and the person you were meant to be.

A CW series about Mary Queen of Scots and her (supposedly-historically very very short-lived) relationship with the French Dauphin. :O As American TV makes it, it's of course crazily historically inaccurate -- because wasn't the Dauphin a very frail, and weak, 13-year-old boy when he married Mary? He later died because he was sick! This blonde, strapping 20-stg-year-old as the French Dauphin -.- whut.

Historical fiction should have fictional characters! That way, you can spin them however you want, amidst a real historical setting, and not butcher real historical figures.

there are few feelings in the world worse than completely inopportune realization

great minds discuss ideas

---

Tonight, we reviewed a little of what entails backbiting:

1) If you talk good about someone -- this is praise and not backbiting (duh, haha)

2) Speaking the truth about someone but if he or she were present, they would not feel happy = backbiting. Even if it were regarding technically neutral matters, it could be backbiting depending on the perception or feelings of the person in question; so for example, I am so crazy short right and you go and tell someone else: You know, S is less-than-5-feet-short! and if I'd heard it and it caused a little unhappy twinge in my heart -- that's backbiting. 

But no worries: I really haven't much cared what people say about my height since I think when I was 18 -- most of the time, heheh.

3) Speaking malicious falsehoods about people = backbiting + FITNAH (i.e. slander). This one if you do... be very afraid of what punishment you may be accruing in the hereafter. Escape now! Seek forgiveness now! Say prayers upon the Prophet s.a.w. for guidance and mercy!

We always happily try to convince ourselves we don't do this, but in the heat of emotion and in the company of like-minded people, sometimes we forget. :( Apparently, some places (i.e. Zaytuna Institute, I hear) prefer being cautious and have a policy of not talking about people at all -- talk about ideas instead. Besides, we know small minds discuss people, great minds discuss ideas.

So many thoughts running through my head in a day, but only one seems to crystallize itself properly right now:

One of my kids looks like the k-drama actor Joo Won! Haha. I almost wanted to comment on it, except I thought his parents might think me nuts, and think me a less credible speech therapist.

I was on the way home today, and recalled suddenly a dream I'd had the night before. Funny how we easily forget our dreams, but then certain things in real life can later trigger the memory.

Anyway, in this dream -- something very scary and weird was happening to my hair (I don't know what it was, I just knew I was in danger or something). I was very distraught and desperately trying to shampoo my hair clean. But the more I washed and rubbed, the more distraught I became, and I slowly realised in my panic... the colour of my hair was changing! The level of terror that gripped me in this dream, you have no idea, hahaha. And at first my hair had become chestnut brown, and after more scrubbing, it became like reddish and pink. And the very last bit of the dream I remember has me looking in the mirror and seeing all my long hair in pale blond. The kind I'd have imagined was on DT!Draco -- except of course on me, it clashed hideously with my dark eyebrows. I think I was beyond shocked, though even my dream version spared a thought that it looked like Draco's hair.

In retrospect, this dream is hilarious and I almost laughed out loud when I remembered. What on earth is my poor subconscious grappling with. Although... I'm sure that reading so much of Draco Trilogy certainly had a part to play in providing the surface material of the dream -- all that description of hair and eye colours...

every weekend is wedding weekend

 congrats! Mumu, the pretty bride.

---

I count down to my weekends by the number of kids left to see.

4 more to go!

I figured since Mumu is getting married tomorrow, it'd be okay to post this:

This was from about a year ago, when we first got a whiff of the impending nuptials:

To Mumu, the sole official follower of my blog, 

may Allah and Rasul s.a.w. bless you many many in this new chapter of life :) 

Despite our first initial responses of oh-my-God-we're-going-to-lose-our-friend-to-this-scary-thing-called-marriage -- we're all happy and excited and totally depending on you to come to Pasir Ris for our regular sushi meet-ups, no matter if you live in the ulu west of Singapore, and have a husband and kids and have to cook for your mama-in-law or whatnot. Heck, bring them along for sushi.

الراحة في الجنة

"Do you believe in God, Malfoy?" 

Draco started, and turned to look at him in disbelief. "Do I what?"

"You heard me," said Harry, uncomfortably. "Do you believe in God - at all?"

Draco looked dubious. “I guess I believe in God,” he said. “Sometimes I think he has some pretty strong reservations about me, though.”

"What about heaven? And hell?" Harry asked.

The other boy shook his head. “What is this about? Anyway, of course I believe in hell…we saw Slytherin get dragged off somewhere by those demons. Where did you think they were taking him? All-expenses-paid balloon tour of the Urals?”

"What about heaven?"

Draco shrugged again. Harry had a feeling he was making the other boy very uncomfortable. “Stands to reason there’s a heaven, if there’s a hell.”

"Well," said Harry, sitting forward, "what do you think it’s like?"

Draco leaned back against the wooden post of the bed, his mouth a crooked line of bemusement. “You’re asking me what heaven’s like, Potter? Come on, you’ve had your name down for entry there since before you had your name down for Hogwarts. Whereas I…”

"Whereas you are going to hell in a handbasket, I know," Harry interrupted. "In the meantime, use that ferocious imagination of yours for a second, will you? I really want to know what you think."

"Do you?" Draco’s eyes were the color of quartz crystals, and about as readable. "I think heaven would be different for everyone who goes there. For you, it’s probably bunnies and Christmas and optimism and everyone shoving flowers in their ears."

"And for you?"

Draco was silent a moment, looking out the window at the dark world flashing by. “A place to rest, I think,” he said finally.

- Draco Veritas, Cassandra Claire

I think I'd forgotten how much this story impacted my teenage psyche.

“I didn ́t have a choice,” he said.

"There's always a choice," said Sirius. "When we say there's no choice, we're just comforting ourselves about the decision we've already made."

—	Draco Sinister, Cassandra Claire

Sigh. This is sad.

Akhir zaman... yes. There is no real good force in the world right now. 

What do we do? What can we do? Is there anything to do?

I fully understand how some people choose not to put pictures of themselves on their facebook profile, especially considering the likely amount of hawking that happens with regard to our personal information etc.

But seriously. Have at least one photo of yourself in your profile or something so that I can figure out who you are. If you add me, and your name is nondescript and there are zilch pictures of your face anywhere, how am I supposed to know who you are?! The mutual friends we have also give me zero information about your identity! Unless you are the only person with your name for at least 600 square kmetres (e.g. Draco Malfoy or Shamiah Bafadhal, eheh), please give me a face and not just interesting photos of scenery. Don't make me headdesk like this.

Also, I do suspect facebook for giving out fake friend invites between people or something. Insidious!

I fight sleepiness on a precious Friday night

My brain is low on juice, after a work-and-fun-filled day, and cannot construct prose, so point form it shall be!

* Met up with my ST classmates tonight! Professional battery recharge. (:

* Spent a large part of the day contemplating how real contentment can only come from a total reliance on God over men (no matter how such wonderful persons may exist in your life -- both an abundance and a lack of this is a test).

* Having a good-looking kid with language or cognitive issues is more heart-breaking than a not-so-good-looking kid with language or cognitive issues -- I tell you, physical beauty has an effect on you no matter how much you try.

* "So, are you pregnant?" is becoming a typical conversation/topic starter among some girlfriends, and I quell the effects of this time warp on my mental and emotional system.

* How subtle is the difference between pride and dignity, acceptance and resignation -- or is there any difference?

* The irony of hope is that it opens you up to despair. So where should I be on this spectrum of hope? To hope but not later despair seems like an impossible task.

* I am feeling ambivalent about The Mortal Instruments. Most of the time, I don't care about the characters, but there's just that little bit there that keeps me reading a little more instead of chucking it aside entirely. And wonders -- it has made me laugh a few times.

* ISNA is selling Shaykh Hamza's DVD lecture on Shakespeare and Islam, previously given at the Globe Theatre, London, in 2004. Awesome subject matter but I am unable to find this anywhere online; currently desperate to get my ears on this.

from a separate, much-loved lecture: one of the bits that I never forget! (:

1.20 am and it still feels too soon to sleep on a Friday night.

I think I'm abusing the real meaning of warp, but

On some days, I really feel like I'm in a time warp.

Why do I philosophize every moment of my life. Take a chill pill, S. (ohmygod, did I just refer to myself like a gossip girl? truly, there is something off with me tonight.)

I just had a quick half hour meet up with another S = Sowmya, who decided to drop by SG for a day en route to her home country India -- I rushed to the airport once I cleared the last kid of the day, and we sat at Macs trying to squeeze a year (2 years?) worth of updates before she missed her plane. I looked at this old friend and thought, omg, she looks like a doctor. I told her she looked different, but didn't say how, but honestly, she reminded me of one of the GPs I used to see when I was small. And I felt a time warp.

The second time warp happened while on the bus ride home and I was reading Draco Trilogy on my iPhone (I am concurrently reading The Mortal Instruments and The Draco Trilogy, presumably for purposes of analysis, please don't judge); then this teen girl sat down next to me and opened City of Bones, the first installment of The Mortal Instruments. For at least a minute, I sat there marveling at the beauty of the moment; there was a clear 10 year gap between the two seats we were both occupying, in  age, in text. I was thinking, Somebody, take a photo of this beautiful parallel moment!

Other minor time warps occur when the relentless wedding invitations arrive by post, and my dad goes, "Why all your friends marry so young?" (This line is one of the reasons my father is awesome.) I count (or try not to panic while I count) the number of weddings I have to attend and the insanely dwindling number of single ladies I can go with. 

And I realise feeling this time warp is very lonely.

---

I'm at the part of DT where Hermione becomes so annoying, I want to throw a really big brick at her head.

"I love you," she said.

He closed his eyes. "No," he said. "No, you don't." 

"It hurts," she whispered.

"I know," he said, with a spark of anger, "You think I don't know? The difference between what you feel and what I feel--"

"Is what?"

"Is that you can tell yourself that what you're feeling isn't real, and you can get rid of it with a spell. And I can't. Now get out of here, Hermione. I mean it. Get the hell out of here."

He heard her sharp intake of breath, heard her getting to her feet. "You're right," she said, in a muffled voice. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize," he said. "Just leave."

.

.

.

.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"No," said Ginny. "I was awake. In fact, I was worried about you, so I went looking for you."

There was a short silence. Hermione said, "Well, I'm fine." 

"Yes," said Ginny. "I rather think you are."

It was as if a fist had squeezed her heart. She knows. "Ginny-"

"If you tell me," said Ginny, in a very cold voice, "that that wasn't what it looked like, I will kill you."

Hermione bit back the words that sprang to her lips, and whispered instead, "I wish I could explain."

"I don't want an explanation," said Ginny. "I want to forget I ever saw anything."

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, in a whisper.

"It's not me you should apologize to," said Ginny. "It's Harry. I almost told him, you know. I stood outside his tent, wondering if I should tell him."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, God."

"But I didn't," Ginny said finally. Her tone was tense and distant.

Relief flooded through Hermione, but it was short-lived.

"I decided you should be the one to tell him, Hermione," Ginny snapped. "And you'd better. I'll make sure that you do."

"I can't," said Hermione. "You don't understand." 

"Shut up. I don't want to talk to you. Now, or ever again."

I've been trying to sleep earlier (I've actually attempted to use my Kikki-purchased Good-Habits-Chart to remind me to keep up with my personal goals), so I don't feel like a zombie even while being accosted by hyperactive children; but obviously, I'm failing. It's past midnight again and I could not resist the impulse to just come here.

For no reason; for many reasons -- but for none of which I have the luxury to lay out here for my own analysis and future perusal.

Okay maybe one (hopefully there'll be other days for longer posts) -- that I am always newly and consistently amazed at how happy I am at some moments.



Thank you for the moments I can pause and step back and feel grateful, and say Alhamdulillah.

the mortal instruments, and how for me it will always be a shadow of DT

Found this nice online article about the beginnings of Cassandra Clare and her Mortal Instruments, (the first movie opens next week), and the verdict appears to be -- that this book series is a fanfic of her own fanfic, and therefore entirely her own creation. I think I agree it seems that way.

It would be unfair to suggest that the Mortal Instruments series is a Harry Potter fanfic in the same way that Fifty Shades of Grey is a Twilight fanfic, because there’s that extra degree of separation. By the end of the Draco Trilogy, most of the main cast of Harry Potter characters were almost unrecognizable (e.g., Draco as a romantic hero rather than a cowardly racist bully), and Clare had thrown in plenty of her own worldbuilding—which was developed much further in the Mortal Instruments series. Does it really matter if City of Bones’ Clary and Jace resemble the Ginny and Draco of the Draco Trilogy? If anything, the Mortal Instruments books are a fanfic of her own fanfic, and thus have effectively become an entirely original work.

And this -.- (thanks for emphasising how old we are)

...most of those older fans are, well… old. Now in their 20s and 30s, the Draco Trilogy’s original readers (and anti-fans) are hardly the Mortal Instruments’ target audience. Clare’s new fans are generally in their mid-teens, and most of them only seem to have a vague awareness of Clare’s involvement with fandom.  



Clueless young fans of CC will probably have Jace and Clary in their heads, but I'm sure in us old fans or non-fans -- it's hard not to see them as Draco and Ginny. It's difficult to deny the connection, and I'll forever compare them. When you ask me about DT, the first scene that usually comes to mind is the one with Ginny grabbing the plate of sandwiches from a squabbling Draco and Harry and throwing it out the window. I just remember how shocked the two boys were and how shocked and tickled I was.

Ah, good times.



Here's a scarily scathing and condemning review of CC in contrast:

So what’s really my problem? My problem is the fact that Cassandra Clare is a marginally talented writer who has one story and one cast of characters up her sleeve, and yet somehow she’s sold millions and millions of books based on this. My problem is the fact that Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments series was partially copied from her fanfiction trilogy, which copied a plethora of other authors, not even including J.K. Rowling, who provided her with the characters, premise, and setting for her beloved trilogy. My problem is the fact that Cassandra Clare is in the authorly equivalent of a time loop, and has come full circle. My problem is the fact that Cassandra Clare is, in essence, writing fanfiction of her own work, and it is getting published and she is getting paid bank for it, when other far more original and talented authors are getting absolutely nothing for their hard work. I may despise Stephenie Meyer and the world she’s created, but at least Twilight and its accompanying works are her own original product; at least she deserves to reap the benefits of the crazy fandom she’s inspired.

So dear Cassandra Clare: write a new goddamn book — one that isn’t a copy of a copy of a copy.

A little belated, because I'm obviously far too busy in real life, but:

Selamat Hari Raya!

This is my favourite photo from this raya season because it was high time this group of people took a full photo together and we did! (well, almost everyone, except my brother who's behind the camera).

---

And omg -- as usual I've been having re-reads of my favourite books (i.e. Lymond / HP) -- and I found a video documentary of Dunnett when she was alive, and I can't believe I haven't seen this before now!

The way she talks about writing her books -- like it's such great fun and her hobby and a privilege -- only makes her accomplishments more amazing. Because the sheer brilliance of her work -- you wouldn't think it's done with such heart and levity, and not with some crazy sweat and pain. She says she writes usually one 5000-word chapter in a day?! and it pretty much remains that way till print??? You take a look at this lovely old lady, and you don't realise she's a genius. But oh my goddddd, she has to be one. Had.

Will we see the likes of such literary genius again? To think books like Fifty Shades of Grey make the bestseller list today.

The partnership she had with her husband is also something to be envied; I remember reading somewhere that she'd said that he was her Lymond. The husband was an equally accomplished man, if not more so -- considering he was a newspaper editor and wrote more than just books, but plays etc -- and someone who helped her realise her potential. A partner to her in almost every way. It's like that line from Checkmate:

When the singer is matched with the sounding-board; the dream with the poet. When the sun and the fountain first meet one another.