waiting on the clouds of goodness

I figured I should just sit and start typing. There are precious few moments when time coincides with mood, so I should just do it.

You know, I won't claim to be a writer. Professional writers earn money; I obviously don't. I write in obscurity. And I write without structure or aim. But I know what it feels like to write properly, and it's not about having time. Well, at least not just time alone. It's about time, and flow. It's about being in a mood, a certain frame of mind that allows the smooth channeling of thoughts into tangible words on a screen, on paper. And that flow, that mood -- it doesn't come on command.

Just earlier this week, I was talking over with a colleague about the apparent lack of time to enjoy my creative pursuits. Being the ISTJ-personality type (I have deduced heheh), she started breaking down my hours in the day for me, and proving to me that I have a good hour or two every day for doing whatever I wanted. (Which now, as I think on it, leaves my friends who are mothers zero time for themselves -- I don't blame them for never being able to blog about our books.) But see, what she failed to get is that -- I can't just plop down for 2 hours and then write. That hasn't been how I've written all the years before; I simmer, I kind of mull around by myself for hours, and then get into a mood, and then I write. And I write without concern for time, food, or persons. (Which is probably ridiculous...)

The problem then appears to be that my mind hasn't been in a reflective/writing mood for extended periods -- hence my lack of writing proper in general -- and results in the attrition of my general psychological well-being. Because my writing is the space I work through my confusing thoughts, my conflicting feelings, and life's heartaches and joys. Without it, I feel like I'm bottling up a whole jar of pain and unclarified ideas. How on earth do other people live life without doing this? Don't the rest of you all have messes inside your hearts and minds? Maybe some people just talk it out. Some people paint, or do comic art --

haha, oh heart.

So yes, I need to write. But I feel a pressure however, in some ways, not to. Like if I could only just be less dreamy, less drifty, less me perhaps -- I would be more accomplished, focused, goal-oriented.

Balance truly is the elusive ideal.


Anyway, the only reason I am posting today is because I am on sick leave and I actually have time on my hands. Again, time supposed to be better spent working on research proposals or studying for my clinic maybe, and time to rest -- but I needed to do this. To resume doing a little of this.

Last night, our ladies' gathering had a nice little sharing at one point that resulted in pretty much tears all round -- because we talked about how everyone has their own private challenges, but then never to despair because only the best of us are tested, and we are tested to the degree of our mettle and substance. And how can you even think that Allah and Rasul s.a.w. would ever abandon you? Ever, ever, ever. If we would only just think on that, everyone, we will all be okay, and stay strong, and be hopeful for the clouds of goodness waiting to rain on us some day.

:)

After the previous post, E unsurprisingly texted me: what's up with the emo!


... what can I do?

Late night posts -- and I only ever seem to get in a writing mood late at night -- inevitably have emotions running wild. It's when your brain starts to sleep and emotions awake, you see.

I have a rule for myself -- when things get posted, I never remove them (unless it ever comes to the point when an external party requests; guhhhhuh when would that ever be the case). I am a stickler for authenticity. Even if you may not feel like that now, you felt like that then. So don't deny the parts of you that are still you.


It's like that quote from George Bernard Shaw's Candida that stuck with me --

“Do you think that the things people make fools of themselves about are any less real and true than the things they behave sensibly about? They are more true: they are the only things that are true.”

Because they represent deep-seated stuff about you that you never reveal except at moments of unguardedness. I wish we could be all be more true, and less sensible.

And.... this has been a nice distraction!

words would limit this miasma in my heart
but if I don't attempt to give words to these intangibles, they will sit like poison inside.

Selamat Hari Raya!


Super late post -- but hey, it's still Syawal.

I've had a post simmering in my head for weeks, and had serious things to rant about, and some thoughtful things to share about, and heartaches to soothe -- but gah, I'm exhausted. And sometimes, the more I want to write, the bigger the imaginary draft is in my head, and the harder it appears for me to get to writing cause I keep waiting for a perfect window of time, but that window of time never seems to come!

For now, just let me blog list-like; the reasons I'm so exhausted include:

- Ongoing raya festivities, which is hey, a good thing, but stuffing oneself with food, and alternately stuffing other people with food is a time-consuming activity

- Hanen parent workshop just started i.e. I am working so many Saturdays I cry from lack of sleep; basically the rare Saturdays are the only times I get to sleep in and for now I don't anymore; and I find it so impossible to be disciplined about sleeping early, so basically I sleep so little -- I'm really endangering my eye and brain health if I keep this up.

- Training for a new feeding-related clinic also just started, ohgoshhhh. I want to do well at this. I'm actually feeling interested about the theory bit and that's always a good sign: because I'm the type to do really well at the stuff I like, and be completely crap at things I find boring, no matter if you tell me how important it is. So yes, I pray this turns out well, insya Allah.

- It's about two months in to my new Arabic classes that are scheduled Monday nights (on top of my consistent Sunday Arabic classes) -- and god, I am feeling the pain. What was I thinking, having a full-blown stressful class right after work. I do this to my own life, don't I? Why am I so stubborn and nutso. Why. why, S, why. Why do you frustrate even yourself, or more like, especially yourself. And now I am rambling and digressing from the topic of Arabic class so I shall stop.

- Projects we should be getting to but we keep stalling because of concurrent work and all of the above. Why do I feel like there's always one million things happening at once. (ohmygod, is my thyroid acting up.)


Barely two months out of the peaceful highlands and I am already yearning to be back.

And I'm still waiting for that perfect window of time so that I can blog-post my thoughts properly. Ah, me and my stubbornness, and my need for downtime.

this nice music video here though 

-- I'm revisiting old favourite dramas that are familiar and heartwarming, because investments in new dramas again require energy and time, and I'm short on those. 

ohmygosh, Healer: 

I think you have a high chance 

of being top on my list of favourite dramas of all time.

... when we read about Haruki's decision to fly into the waves, my dad totally lost it. We were at home, sitting at the kotatsu, and he was reading the translation out loud to me, and when he got to that part, he put down the page and made this loud snorting noise that sounded a bit like a gigantic sneeze, only it wasn't. It was an explosion of sadness. He stood up and went into the bathroom and shut the door, but I could still hear him crying in a deep, gulping way.

-- Nao, A Tale for the Time Being, Ruth Ozeki

When I think about me and my idealism, this scene frequently comes to mind. I remember how this scene made me cry together with Nao's dad the first time I read it. Being an idealist is lonely; standing up for your ideals against the face of criticism from all sides, including your own, is heart-breaking, destroying, crushing. To have it validated, even a little, gives such relief, it comes with a torrent of tears.

A bit slow on the uptake, I know; this song has been all the rage for a while

-- but suddenly, it's bitten me.

too cute!

and certainly helping with my Arabic.

---

Also, old friends have recently made me feel nostalgic for the old days. 

I got a belated birthday gift in the form of lapis lazuli!

Elsie! You are well-loved, hehe.

Eventful day --

* a family emergency that made me glad to realise how I naturally go into fight mode when something scary happens. I can look back and laugh now. But man, it was scary. It's a few times in my life now that my younger siblings have given us terrible life-or-death scares. But what I'm increasingly realising is that, when something emotionally overwhelming happens, my natural instinct is to shove all emotion aside, and become logical and serious and amazingly calm. Although I can hear the small voice in my head starting to plead to God.

Haha, this makes me wonder if I should have become a doctor. But wait, wasn't I all frazzled for inpatient training as a speechie? Am I not naturally paranoid, as my old school friends will attest to? hmmmmm I don't know. Maybe it's the knowledge that efff, this is important, I will fix this or die, that makes the difference.

* first big iftar that has me realising how old I am, or rather how far I've come in life, and I'm happy with who I've strived to be, and hopefully continually strive to become. It's one of those rare times in life as a woman, I don't feel getting older is a bad thing at all. If you're constantly cultivating and refining who you are, you're looking forward to growing wiser and stronger and closer to the best version of you you can be.

* praying in congregation as a jema'ah made me reflect on the value of the ummah, or of a community. and why Islam places such importance on the role of social duty and contribution. A true community is everything an individual needs to sustain life -- you may face individual challenges, but a true community would never leave you to deal with them utterly alone. You could never be motherless, fatherless, or childless. So many mothers either kaypoh-ing, or shoving food at you. Children running around for you to snatch one and cuddle. Brothers and sisters surround you -- and all you need for them to swoop down on you in concern is looking even that little bit under the weather. 

I do wonder if it's the magic of this blessed month that's giving me positive vibes.

May you be blessed and protected always. May we all.

Ramadhan Mubarak!

May this Ramadhan be filled with blessings that will carry on to the rest of the year.



Goals:

* to improve sleep management and therefore energy management -- I need to conserve energy for the right things, I know. ): 7 hours a night please, S.

* to review at least some parts of the Quran properly (it has been pathetic year after year)

* to assign myself one task (work/spiritual/household) every night to complete (and I want this to continue beyond Ramadhan, insya Allah)

* to listen to Al-Mishary and improve my Arabic pronunciation (as reiterated over and over by my Arabic teacher!) -- definitely want to get all the range of /h/ and /z/ right!

* tawakal ilallah for all things

hello, this was a beautiful story.

For all my misfit friends.

In fact, I think too many of us perceive ourselves as misfits.

Which apparently, might be a good and beautiful thing.

being brave is awesome

Against my better judgement, 

and with full knowledge that I am getting far too old for this: 

a kpop video!

This group has increasingly fascinated me, with their very pretty videos and unbelievable dancing. And they also recently appeared on Running Man, which of course is every Korean artist's gateway to super-stardom, if you didn't already have enough of the fame. 

This song -- just the right blend of everything for me.

Oh, this makes me nostalgic for the days when I fell in love with Big Bang.

---

I've been running my social skills sessions this past week with some older kids.

As I talked things over with them, I'm realising I'm saying things that apply to me too. The irony makes me laugh quietly to myself, or sometimes do an internal face-palm.

Things like, we all have problems in life, right? Are you just going to let them be, or are you going to solve them?

And my kid will go, I don't know.

And in my head, I'm thinking, yeah actually, some of my problems, I don't know too.

I tell them, I think we can figure it out. Don't you want to be happy? We then write out stuff we think we should be, like... kind, smart, helpful, friendly. Brave, and fair. I tell them that we have to be brave to stand up for ourselves against bullies, to speak up for ourselves.

Do you know what being brave means? It means doing something even when you're afraid.

My kid made a doubtful face, convinced that I was giving her silly ideas.

I went on this long explanation about how being brave, out of all other attributes we listed, was the absolute coolest one. And I had to digress a little to explain what "cool" was, because kids nowadays apparently only recognise "awesome".

My kid reasonably expressed concern, but what if I speak up and keep being nice and then... they're still not nice to me?

I tried to convince her, it won't happen straight away, but some day, they'll stop and realise how they shouldn't mess with you. or how nice you really are. or even want to be friends with you. And I stuck in a disguised story about Nabi s.a.w. and his horrible neighbour who eventually turned a new leaf because Nabi was so relentless in his niceness and kindness.

And even if things don't turn out well with her peers, in the long run, people generally like brave and nice people more than mean and nasty people. I was trying to make her see that being brave was something worth doing in and of itself, regardless of the outcome. Being brave is awesome.

You've got to be brave, S.



oh my kiddies, you guys try hard, but the world doesn't understand you. my clinics often remind me of Sheldon: there was a scene I watched recently, that was just so sweet, and stuck with me.

It was Sheldon's birthday,
and they were throwing him a party,
except that he freaked out because parties were something of a trauma for him in childhood,
due to bullying.
So he took refuge in the bathroom.

Aw, Penny. 

If we could all learn to really learn about one another, 

there would be more love all round.

tadaima

back in SG! feeling both happy and sad -- actually feeling quite happy to be back and see familiar faces and places, but also very sad because: Scotland!!! :'( I miss you already. Yes, I have what they apparently call DSL: Deep Scottish Love.

wrestling with the 1600+ photos I currently have (crazy, right!), and my annoying Mac OS that's making all the transferring from one medium to another difficult.

but here's a prelude (to the full album that I'll hopefully get to working!):

Tulips at Keukenhoff, Amsterdam

This is one of my favourite photos 

because a good photo is a combination of preparation and opportunity!

Near a clog-making factory in Amsterdam.

Staffa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Off the coast of Scotland. 

Though we didn't manage to spot puffins, 

the whole isle itself was just awesommmmme.

Just look at those rocks (i.e. hexagonal basalt columns). 

The Quiraing on Isle of Skye was breath-taking! 

(My sister is in the picture to give a sense of scale.)

The last time I was there with E, the weather was misty, which gave another totally cool effect, 

but this time: the clear weather gave superb views from every angle. 

Gosh, just beautiful, really.

---

A bit unrelated but I just have to blog about it: on the plane journey home,

I caught a Japanese movie -- seems to be a pattern, doesn't it?

When I returned from Spain, I remember raving about Bokura ga Ita that played on the plane too.

This time, it was Orange, another growing up movie 

that left me in tears throughout the last third of it.

Like I said, trust the Japanese to make the sweetest, the most nostalgic, 

the most heartbreaking, growing up stories. 

This manga adaptation is about a girl 

who receives a letter from herself ten years in the future. 

The older version of her tells her to do things different so that she will not have regrets.

It's definitely about love, but it's also about friendship, and sacrifice, 

and just being there for the people you love, so that we all know we're not alone.

Fare thee well, Isle of Skye

I'm afraid this will become a habit or something -- coming here to this beautiful, beautiful corner of the world to get away.



We had a day on Skye today, and I revisited the corners I saw 6 years ago and they are still jaw-dropping and amazing. I don't think anyone could get tired of seeing the views in this place. It's too bad I can't seem to navigate my way around my phone to post any photos properly on blogspot. Not that any photo can do any justice to the beauty.

I'm back now in the tiny fishing village of Plockton (nearby Skye) and this place is seriously tiny. There's like what, one winding street, three restaurants and that's it! Haha. And then we just have an endless array of houses and cottages -- one of which we're staying at -- and the peaceful blue sea.

If my feelings were colour I think it'd be blue-green right now. A sort of calm bordering on melancholy. Which is... as I think on it, probably my default colour.


you know the feeling when your heart has made a decision and your brain is only just catching up? here's another one of mine: I'm coming to see you again, Skye! I don't know when and I don't know how, but this goodbye isn't forever......

I wandered lonely as a cloud 

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 

When all at once I saw a crowd, 

A host, of golden daffodils; 

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 

Continuous as the stars that shine 

And twinkle on the milky way, 

They stretched in never-ending line 

Along the margin of a bay: 

Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced; but they 

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: 

A poet could not but be gay, 

In such a jocund company: 

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought 

What wealth the show to me had brought: 

For oft, when on my couch I lie 

In vacant or in pensive mood, 

They flash upon that inward eye 

Which is the bliss of solitude; 

And then my heart with pleasure fills, 

And dances with the daffodils. 

William Wordsworth

Hi! Posting while in transit in the Western Isles of Scotland! (:

I thought I wouldn't appear here at all for weeks but then... Why not!

The highlands are too gorgeous for words.

Another birthday come to pass.

And this post shall be the last one in a while -- mainly because, I am off on a very long getaway with the family.



It always appears to me that I get a holiday precisely when I need it. Or maybe in reality, I always want a holiday haha, no matter the time. Regardless, this holiday is much, much needed, and planned around my birthday too -- because I think I need a reset button.

I've decided on something for myself. Or more like, I've come to terms with something, and therefore I see now what decision I have to make, or have already subconsciously made. This break from everyday work is so that I can take the time to look it in the face, stare at it, and accept it. And then ganbatte and brave through life.



(i) things worth having are things worth fighting for
(ii) you'll never be happy unless you fight -- a line from an old j-drama (said by Mizushima Hiro in Mei-chan no Shitsuji!) that has stuck with me
(iii) easy = boring, difficult = interesting, y/n?
(iv) I am least happy when I chicken out and take the easy way
(v) I like the idea that my life shall be about growing in courage
(vi) I like the idea that my life shall be about being authentic and true
(vii) I shall be an idealist and not be ashamed




---


omgggg I was just about to publish this post but then at 12.30 am, my family all popped downstairs where I am parked at the table, to bring out a birthday cake -- 30 minutes late from the actual date (cause my dad got home late from his class) but still!

heheeeee. thank You again for the wonderful people in my life. (:

Thank you for all the lovely wishes! 

(including adorable voice mails from Qatar haha)

but my favourite today goes to...

Thoughts buzzing in my head, good and bad.

*Being realistic is the fastest way to mediocrity

*Been feeling increasingly certain that if I were to be granted any supernatural item/power, I'd want the invisibility cloak. seriously -- I feel like I could figure out better what to do, if I was just privy to more information, or able to investigate freely without any red tape or without anyone noticing at all. Just! I feel the truth of things is often so hard to get to and I just want to bypass all the layers of crap to the core of things. Because I need to understand! and I need to figure out things.

*Feeling really sad with myself because I'm realising I haven't improved much over the years. This must be partly attributed to the lack of discipline I have been lamenting in recent times? My problems are starkly the same. The same! And I am appalled and devastated at myself, reading old private blogposts and realising they apply now as they did then.

What is it that we keep hearing? History repeats itself because no one listens? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results? I don't know. )': I don't know what to do different. I don't know anymore.

*Desperate to make a change. Desperate.

*Which is why the Datin project is coming at the right time, insya Allah.

I want to sleep soon -- because there's work tomorrow and because I am trying to work on my discipline, but I really just have to come here and record this wonderful evening that I just had with Datin S.

That made me reflect in general, and now makes my heart feel full.


Alhamdulillah.

Thank You for amazing Friday evenings. Thank You for the people You've put in my life. Thank You for friends such as these. Thank You for my wonderful family. Thank You for the moments of gratitude. Thank You for the capacity to contemplate the blessings that You have granted. Thank You for making me feel excited for the future.

Thank You!

Today I mentioned to my friends how Nikola Tesla was basically real-life superhero -- he reminds me of Daredevil, or Spiderman. Because look at this:

(he calls it a time of nervous breakdown when his senses were at its acutest)

In Budapest, I could hear the ticking of a watch with three rooms between me and the time piece. A fly alighting on a table in the room would cause a dull thud in my ear. A carriage passing at a distance of a few miles fairly shook my whole body. The whistle of a locomotive twenty or thirty miles away made the bench or chair on which I sat vibrate so strongly that the pain was unbearable.

He probably had a sensory processing disorder! right? But which coupled with a high IQ allowed him to overcome via compensatory ways. Otherwise, he would appear like the typical sensitive autistic child maybe; screaming with the littlest stimulation.

He also described numerous near-death experiences from his childhood days during which he would save himself at the last crucial moment, when he conjured up an idea or remembered an important life-saving fact (he attributed this to his inventor mind): like the fact that pressure is force/area and so he turned sideways to prevent himself from being pushed over the edge of a dam while he went bathing in a river as a teenager.

An inventor's endeavour is essentially life-saving. Whether he harnesses forces, improves devices, or provides new comforts and conveniences, he is adding to the safety of our existence. He is also better qualified than the average individual to protect himself in peril, for he is observant and resourceful.

--

Unrelated or not, I was thinking today about people I admire. As a young person in the past, I have had friends say, and I was guilty of the the same thing, how such-and-such person is so awesome because they had A, B and C, and was awesome-thing-D, and awesome-thing-E. You know what I mean? Like we would admire people for being things or having things.

But tonight I was glad to realise for myself that the people I truly admire are people who do things instead, things that appear a feat to me. Like the father of a brain-damaged child I see, whose mother also recently passed on because of a road accident, but who still comes for therapy so religiously and shows such enthusiasm and dedication to help his child improve in any small way, that as therapists our hearts ache and we all surely secretly pray that this family gets a miracle after all the challenges that keep coming their way. My mother who does things for us every day of our lives is awesome too. Or the fact that fathers slog every day in the system to feed their families. The greater the challenge, the greater my respect and admiration. The fact that they keep doing, the courage it takes to just keep doing and keep fighting. That fills me with awe. This is probably why seeing people bask in the lap of luxury and not doing anything leaves a bad aftertaste in the soul.

And it's not that we all want difficult lives -- I don't think I can cope with such scary challenges. But that the point of life is that we should all the find our little ways to do things. It's like something I've heard before: that if you are not afflicted, then you should help the afflicted; otherwise God will visit you with an affliction so that you realise that this is the point of life -- to fight to become something of a higher substance. That life is work.

This reminds me of what Shaykh Hamza said at the Yale University talk too: that we should look at other people in terms of verbs rather than nouns and adjectives. It's what people do that matters, not what they are.

Just wanted to quickly update how I'm now reading Nikola Tesla's autobiography -- having had such a great experience with the autobiography genre --

and I'm seeing patterns with these great persons. (I suppose I need to read more autobiographies to corroborate these observations.)

Both Nikola Tesla and Malcolm X -- diverse though their fields and their roles in history -- have already two things in common that I've identified: (i) a ridiculous passion for reading, and (ii) unstinting discipline.


Malcolm X on reading:

Anyone who has read a great deal can imagine the new world that opened. Let me tell you something: from then until I left that prison, in every free moment I had, if I was not reading in the library, I was reading on my bunk. You couldn't have gotten me out of books with a wedge. Between Mr Muhammad's teachings, my correspondence, my visitors - usually Ella or Reginald - and my reading of books, months passed without my even thinking about being imprisoned. In fact, up to then, I never had been so truly free in my life.

"People don't realise how a man's whole life can be changed by one book." 

 Tesla on reading:

Of all things I liked books best. My father had a large library and whenever I could manage I tried to satisfy my passion for reading. He did not permit it and would fly into a rage when he caught me in the act. He hid the candles when he found that I was reading in secret. He did not want me to spoil my eyes. But I obtained tallow, made the wicking and cast the sticks into tin forms, and every night I would bush the keyhole and the cracks and read, often till dawn, when others slept and my mother started on her arduous daily task.

Me? -- though I may credit myself with a love of books since early childhood, discipline is like the last ingredient missing during my genesis or something. I am so horribly ill-disciplined, I really, truly frequently marvel at how I have passed through the institutions of learning in my life. Had I not been born privileged, into a family and environment that was conducive to my learning, I probably would have been a drug addict and wasting life away or something, ahah.

Challenge of 2016: I have been trying to (figure out how to) revolutionize my mind/body/soul so as to bring discipline into my life.

Tesla on discipline:

... I began to practise self-control. At first, my resolutions faded like snow in April, but in a little while I conquered my weakness and felt a pleasure I never knew before -- that of doing as I willed. In the course of time this vigorous mental exercise became second nature. At the outset, my wishes had to be subdued but gradually desire and will grew to be identical. After years of such discipline I gained so complete a mastery over myself that I toyed with passions which have meant destruction to some of the strongest men.

Friday -- (now oops already crossed over to Saturday) -- night! always my favourite time of the week.

I have thoughts thoughts thoughts but not the energy to articulate them!

But for some reason, I am happy tonight. Alhamdulillah.


---



Simple non-heavy blogging (the kind I'm willing to partake at this hour) is related to dramaland of course, eheh. If you are in any way acquainted with kdramas, you would know that the current insane rave all over Asia, is this, Descendants of the Sun. I think every other lady watching dramas on the train, is probably watching this.

My thoughts?

- I am blinded by the pretty. I don't know anymore. This drama is so pretty I don't even know if I'm objectively following the plot, or just gushing at this insanely beautiful couple.
- Song Hye Gyo is proof that you can grow more beautiful forever. I actually think she is more gorgeous here than she was in her early 20s. What is her secret?
- Song Joong Ki is apparently making China girls contract glaucoma from staring at him for 18 hours straight on the screen. He brushed it off ahah, because he's modest... or pretending to be?
- Everyone loves Joong Ki now, dang it. And I thought I was the only one. I loved him way back from Sungkyunkwan Scandal, and I loved him in Running Man -- you all do too? D:
- Besides the people, the place is also so, so pretty -- I just found out Urk (where our protagonist soldier-extraordinaire and his love interest reunite due to coincidental work engagements) is actually in the Netherlands Greece! And the story made it out to be some war-torn, third-world, Middle Eastern/Eastern European location. -.- S, why are you so easily duped.
- Objectively though, I mean it: this show has some awesome plot moments. I feel like, yes, the story is centered on the fascinating, romantic relationship/dynamic between two rare individuals, but playing it out in this high-adrenaline, war-torn, humanitarian-effort setting brings some other really moving themes into play.
- I actually surprisingly enjoyed Chi Hun's side-story about him running away from a rescue task during the earthquake emergency because he was afraid for his own life, and then agonizing like crazy over it, and subsequently trying to atone for his cowardice. It's a very human thing, is it not, to have moments of cowardice like that? Because courage is a muscle too that requires time and practice to grow strong. I thought it was very cool how they tackled this concept via Chi Hun.
- Watching this drama has basically romanticised the army for viewers (and given disproportionate expectations of how gorgeous soldiers are, or how romantic, or how much free time they actually have while on a mission some place far). Also, it has made me think, falsely I'm sure, that joining some UN mission overseas must be one of the most exhilarating things to do, and that the likelihood of dying or endangering your life is actually low.
- Love Mo Yeon's medical team! It's fun to watch them get used to Urk and living with the soldiers. And then when they had to leave, I felt really, really sad too. It's like the feeling of leaving camp I think, and leaving a place that has given you a purpose, built your courage, and made you grow.
- This drama also seems to say: no matter your profession, you demonstrate honour when you execute your duties with excellence, diligence, and courage.
- Last but not least: this drama is not just heavy and serious because of the action and the war/disaster events and the I-shall-deny-my-love-for-you-because-you-are-mysterious-soldier-who-will-die-on-me issues; there are really adorable comedy bits too -- like this one:

I feel like I want to go on a camp or overseas mission or stg now.

Hm.

wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure

Had one of our book club meetings today, and as always time seems faaaar too short; I think if we could be allowed to talk all day about our books, we would. Even though I was the only one who actually finished the entirety of our current text, it certainly did nothing to quell the rapidity of our conversations and the passion in our exchanges.

It is safe to say that we are all pretty much enraptured by the man that was Malcolm X. 

(I need a big silly heart emoticon right now, 

because how else should I express my fangirling, I don't know.)

Just listening to this -- several thoughts cross my mind: that history repeats itself, probably because humanity has had the same problems since forever, and we don't learn from our forefathers. 

By the end, we decided that my bookie friends will finish reading his autobiography and we will discuss this awesome personality again at the next meeting. While I devour any research pertaining to his life, person, and efforts. And the civil rights era in America.

And by the end, I've decided that the following qualities to exist simultaneously in a person is the recipe for greatness: sincerity, discipline, courage, and wit.

---

Not entirely unrelated since I'm in the business of talking about sincere and courageous individuals: I've been waiting and waiting for the Snowden movie to come out and I thought it would be March this year, but they've pushed it to September (rumour has it that the government is making problems for production --  haha, evil).

Here's another amazing personality I admire who is our generation and whose book -- No Place To Hide by Glen Greenwald -- still sits unfinished in my Kindle. I should get to it.

Edward Snowden was 29 when he  revealed confidential US government documents because he believed in liberty and privacy for his fellow Americans. You've just got to respect people who are willing to stake their lives for their beliefs. I'm going to be 29, and what the heck have I done with my life.

It was probably watching John Oliver that made me pay attention to Snowden:

Life, why are you so puzzling --

this drama is one to Remember

ohmygod, did I just make a lame pun there, ahah.

I am 2 episodes away from the end of this drama Remember, and it has been a fantastic ride so far.

The acting chops overall were so impressive, I am struggling to look for a synonym and adjective to better describe how I feel.

Park Min Young has always hit jackpot year after year with her dramas; I don't know how she does it. It's like black magic, ahah -- she always kills it as the female lead for any intense hurt/comfort OTP scenario. Last year we had her with Ji Chang Wook in Healer, and at some point earlier, it was with Lee Min Ho in City Hunter -- I mean, she seems to keep appearing in my favourite hero dramas!

Then we have the main villain who was superbly acted by Nam Goong Min; I cannot say this enough, I think -- he was so, so good. He really gave this drama the oomph. The rage meter for the drama can largely be attributed to him; he is so nuts, so evil, and so dysfunctional, all viewers want is to to see him burn. HAHAHA. As I watch, I hate him so much, it's hilarious; and at the same time, the back of my brain is noticing how so super-awesome this actor is and I'm scrawling down a memo to look him up later.

And finally, we have our hero played by Yoo Seung-ho, who has been living up to Korea's expectations of him. The first time I saw him was in a drama when he was ~17 years old acting as a secondary character in Warrior Baek Dong Soo. I was puzzling over why an important character was given to this mere boy who could barely pull off the physical demand of the role (i.e. warrior in a historical setting! he was sooo small then). But even then, at a young age, I could see it -- there was a calibre to him. And Korea was just waiting for him to grow up properly so they could cast him as lead hero, haha. Now at 22 years, I think he has proven himself beyond a doubt in this drama. I haven't checked for sure, but he's probably the youngest in this entire cast of veteran and much, much older actors and proving himself equal to (if not better!) than all of them. Simply, this boy is amazing and has years to go in the industry for us to watch.

Had to take a pause while watching this kdrama called Remember --

-- because my goodness, it reminded me of the famous documentary Making A Murderer 

(I'm half wondering if the drama writers weren't entirely influenced by Steven Avery's story) 

and it's making me so emotional.

I hadn't blogged about it, but E and I spent the nights during our Cameron Highlands getaway watching this documentary from start to end -- and God, it so enraged us. And now watching this kdrama, the rage comes back, haha oh dear.  If you have no clue what all this is about, please watch the trailers. And watch the documentary at least.

Unlike real life, the drama has a protagonist on whom we're putting our hopes, and as the audience, we demand that one day, in drama years, justice will prevail. There will be vindication. 

Real life, however. RAGE. Just rage. Why are people evil.
Who says reality isn't dramatic. So much drama!

oooooohmygod.

Our generation has grown up and now making such ambitious HP fan productions!

---


and this is a nice mini ted video.

hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul

finally, a moment.

I couldn't find a moment (you know, crazy busy weekdays and crazy wedding weekends). Not that I was occupied a 100% outside of right now -- but you know, the right moment. to pen thoughts.

or just one thought, maybe, for now.

That is... I think I'm finally realising the meaning of the maxim: to hope, but not expect.

It is a thin line. That sweet spot called hope, that is neither despair, nor entitlement or expectation. And insya Allah, this is a step-up in iman; because this does seem like a type of submission. I'm starting to wonder too if we're being taught the same core lesson over and over but always being given an up on the ante with respect to the context, as we go on with life.

Hope gives me leave to live according to my heart, in consort with my head, insya Allah.



When I was a young girl, there was a fad started by the used-to-be-awed Lance Armstrong who fought against cancer and continued cycling in the Tour de France: these hand bands that said LIVE STRONG. People would sport it in a range of colours on their wrists -- mostly in association with athleticism and resilience etc. Later, I decided that while this live strong idea was quite awesome -- you know, not giving up, striving hard no matter what -- the motto that was preferable for me to live by was to LIVE TRUE.

It was something that stuck with me as I grew older and stays with me today.

Live true to myself, true to God and his Beloved Nabi s.a.w., and to have hope in my heart.

(:

I'm properly excited now to re-visit a well-loved place.

Scotland, I heart you more than ever.

Sing me a song of a lass that is gone
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul, she sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.
Billow and breeze, islands and seas,
Mountains of rain and sun...
All that was good, all that was fair,
All that was me is gone.

---

and ah, anticipating Season 2! this show is so pretty (for the place and the people) and epic. I've talked it over with E, and I conceded that it has not shined extraordinarily as literature (and I am only ~40% through the book; obviously I went on ahead with the TV version, eheh) but dang, it makes exciting TV! Also, it has an OTP to root for, and I'm obviously a sucker for that.



Hmm
I'm waiting on some other awesome show comebacks this year:
Prison Break, for one! (eeps, I loved Michael Scofield.)

And Gilmore Girls! which I don't watch --
but even I want to know if Jess and Rory will finally get together. :P

TO FORGIVE IS...

To begin
and there is so much to forgive:
for one, your parents, one and two,
out of whose dim haphazard coupling
you sprang forth roaring, indignantly alive.
For this, whatever else followed,
innocent and guilty, forgive them.
If it is day, forgive the sun
its white radiance blinding the eye;
forgive also the moon for dragging the tides,
for her secrets, her half heart of darkness;
whatever the season, forgive it its various 
assaults -- floods, gales, storms 
of ice -- and forgive its changing;
for its vanishing act, stealing what you love
and what you hate, indifferent,
forgive time; and likewise forgive its fickle
consort, memory, which fades
the photographs of all you can't remember;
forgive forgetting, which is chaste
and kinder than you know;
forgive your age and the age you were
when happiness was afire in your blood
and joy sang hymns in the trees;
forgive, too, those trees, which have died;
and forgive death for taking them,
inexorable as God; then forgive God
His terrible grandeur, His unspeakable
Name; forgive, too, the poor devil
for a celestial fall no worse than your own.
When you have forgiven whatever is of earth,
of sky, of water, whatever is named,
whatever remains nameless,
forgive, finally, your own sorry self,
clothed in temporary flesh
the breath and blood of you
already dying.

Dying, forgiven, now you begin.

-- Pamela Wagner

This made me cry, snot and all.
I had to put aside the reading,
and spend a good while repeatedly swiping at tears and thinking,
and then, now,
blogging.

I'm thinking... perhaps,
part of the reason for suffering and pain in the world,
is so as to engender beauty,
like this.

This is a happy post, on a happy night! 

just to remind and prove to myself, 

the constant ups and downs of life -- 

they are to be expected.

And when life dips into a valley, for sure,

a peak is up ahead, insya Allah.

Had a nice meet-up with J, that culminated with a nice heart-to-heart chat at the end of the night. 

And I am remembering beautiful, awesome, funny things to be thankful for.

Like the time I was trying to figure out what a phrase meant 

whilst reading HP in Arabic

cause I really just couldn't find the root verb --

only to discover it translated to Viktor Krum! HAHA.

And the time I marveled at my class for being so awesome

and the best support system I could imagine

as a growing professional in my field

and this is 3 years out of school.

GOD I LOVE MY CLASS SO MUCH

AND WE NEED TO HAVE A MEET-UP BADLY

My family indulging ourselves in silly, private jokes

I can't even remember anymore how goose came to mean good! haha.

And Arashi putting a smile on my face!

(:

Read this recently: The Differences Between Happiness and Meaning in Life

...even though meaning-making may be associated with negative emotions in the moment, it may contribute to greater resiliency and well-being in the longer-term.


I've been fairly torn and confused about whether it's a good thing or not to be equally negative as well as positive here, feeling pressured about having to put up a strong and positive attitude to things and life -- being adult, does it not apparently mean that you've got things figured out? That you've got two stable feet on the ground, so you bloody-well have no business wallowing about anything or being angsty at all. Or having existential crises at every other turn in life.

But at least this article is saying how a range of emotion is necessary for personal development and growth. So yes, to be constantly upbeat and happy on this blog is not only deceitful, but detrimental to well-being.

I have horrible days at least half the time! And other days that are wonderful.

And I need to get adequate sleep because I am guessing that it's the reason my fuse is getting shorter and shorter these days. And also the reason this post is so disjointed and incoherent.

I don't think I've felt more in my life... 

how I want to be away from other people.

And be alone.

on looking back at moments, 

I really am happiest when roaming by my lonesome

not having to explain myself to people

or be in a certain way or behave as expected.

And it's not like I hate particular persons or anything --

I'm just tired.

I am missing my time with E in Cameron Highlands

when all we did was move at sloth-pace, 

roam around nature armed with a camera,

having awesome food like scones, strawberries, and cream,

and enjoying the quietness of things.

A promising k-drama called Moorim School that's got me so super-excited, I have to rein myself in;

cause one generally has to be cautious with the love to prevent disappointment.

but ohhhhmygod, sign me up for this.

this drama has my favourite tropes and is hence hitting all the right buttons for me.

It feels like HP! but not quite. or wait, maybe it feels like DT.

• a special school that is hidden and mysterious (after Hogwarts, how can anyone not love this trope -- if done well, of course); they have a you-choose-whatever-class-you-want-to-attend system, and only morning exercise is compulsory!
• a wise-mentor figure that does not let on what he knows -- gah, frustrating!
• secret histories of characters that hook you in
• very-likely hero prophecy plot -- and the icing on the suspense: we're not 100% sure who it is yet!
• intense rivalry/enmity that is looking like it will develop into an unlikely blood-brothers-friendship -- no bonus points for guessing that this was the clincher for me, because DTDraco/Harry, duh. And the pair of male leads are an orphan and an unloved-rich-kid to boot. 
• kickass female leads who fight with sticks and fists; strong women are always necessary 
• a subtle yet supernatural element threading through the world as we know it: do our boys have special powers? which one of them does?
• I can sense the existence of a really, really evil villain, the magnitude of whom cannot yet be comprehended by our protagonists who are embedded in the dramas of youth: figuring out goals and dreams, and juggling school with love, friendship, and bullying.

Basically, yes, it's HP, ahahah. Not all of it of course, but definitely the coming-of-age, finding yourself in the world, the world is more than what it seems, good-vs-evil part.

And speaking of awesome schools -- met K and N at a work course today, and had a hilarious account of the sad state of our Singaporean schools. Sad in the sense of it being... crazy, machine-making, unreal, and inhumane. (In other words, a microcosm of the actual adult world in Singapore, I guess.) K was telling us how she has morphed into a nutso-Mother who texts teachers and is obsessed over tests and exams hahaha -- and how she needs to return to her old chill self.

Because yes, K (oh how I miss her, she's so awesome), was, is, one of the coolest Mums I know out there. When we were in school, she was proof for me of a loving Mum who lived her own life, participated actively in the community, did not micro-manage her kids, and had awesome kids anyway! because you lead and parent by example more than anything. Despite being a busy mother, she still organised our class outings, planned class events, got involved in Muslim efforts, and basically built a career. She didn't miss out on the fun side of life. Of course, her husband is awesome-beyond-awesome. Seriously, behind every great man, is a great woman, and vice versa.

So  anyway, K was telling us in her typical, comic, make-everyone-burst-into-laughter way, of her eldest boy scoring 93+ marks for all subjects in Primary 1 and still not gracing anywhere near the top 10 position in his class. Where apparently, it was not an uncommon event for kids to attain full marks on every single test paper since day 1 in school. Because, it appears, that marks are what all Singaporean parents have their eyes on.

And don't make me start on the increasingly-accepted norm of parents taking substantial amounts of leave because their kid is sitting for PSLE -- APPALLING. I cannot even. what. no, people, no. There is something wrong here. This is not right. Something is not right. And I don't know how or what to say, because they are my friends too some of them who do this.

My future kids, should God grace me with that responsibility, will likely be home-schooled. Why would I want to subject my kids to this life, seriously? So K was like all, yes, I need to home-school them, and what about character and resilience and tenacity and less outcome-oriented-ness and we were laughing it out.

God, I miss my class. I miss these two friends of mine. And unless it's Hogwarts or Moorim, I'm not sure I want to let my children go to school.

i fail to be light, yet again

Sitting by my lonesome in the wee hours of the morning, reading, and blogging, and doing whatever crosses my mind -- because my short holiday break from work has commenced! yay.

Maybe I really should consider having leave from work like this on a regular basis, so that I can return to my reflections without the thought of work responsibilities cluttering my mind. And I am aware that my being single and having generally few responsibilities allows me the luxury of delving into my personal projects to what feels like almost-infinite lengths of time. Alhamdulillah for that and for all the little things I fail to perceive.


Thoughts in point form!

* I thought today about how independent I am, or in other words... how selfish I am? Clearly, I don't run the nitty-grittys of my life, such as putting a roof over my head, since I live under my parents' roof (it's only monetary contribution that I give). Obviously, I owe a lot to them, and I need them; life would be way more of a struggle without them. I probably should express more gratitude for all of that. But what I mean when I say independent is the sense that I don't like being... tied down, told what to do, given expectations and roles to live by. And in general, I feel like I don't depend, or at least I don't want to depend on them. It's horrible of me, but I have now and then envisioned myself living somewhere far away by myself, so that I didn't have people's expectations to live up to. So that I could totally and freely explore being me without feeling like an ingrate. Which I feel like I am right now, hence this rambling. Don't get me wrong, I love my family -- couldn't have been blessed with better. But I always wanted that being by myself thing -- and it was probably the biggest push for me to study overseas when I was younger and hence was more than disappointed when I didn't manage to.

Oh gosh, it's been some time since I've blogged and felt like I needed to delete something because it shouldn't be for public consumption. And then I will often have a fight with myself because I fight for authenticity, and another part of me will fight for my self-image, because really, S, do you want to shoot yourself in your foot? Why do you always sabotage yourself?

* Which brings me to a memory of what Y said when we met up at the baby shower, after a long time. She exclaimed, Hah, you're still blogging??? and further implied how ridiculous it is to display things for the world to see. Which made me almost want to strike her off my friend list, but luckily, I treasure our friendship -- okay, I kid. I was hurt and affronted, so I gave in to some vindictiveness.

But really, how does one write at all if one does not write what one knows? And I already have a hard time half the time trying not to be too specific talking about things because yes, Y, despite what you said, you do know that I do not write things for the world to see. I don't mention people or even events clearly enough to have them be identified with more than a 60% certainty (most of the time). And the problem with that is, when you try to discuss or talk about things, it gets... fuzzy, and difficult, and meaning gets lost in my abstractness. Or even I get lost in my own abstractness -- when really, at the end of the day, I was really just upset that so-and-so did such-and-such to me, end. It is not easy to be an authentic reflective public blogger! (who also attempts to be politically, and socially correct)

Yes, why do I even do this. Other than the fact that I simply have the impulse to write.

* I really don't like who I am tonight.

* I feel like there's a general assumption that adults should have reached a peak or a status quo in terms of development of intellect, character, and spirituality. So people just don't feel like reflections like mine above are valid? Why are you blogging? Why are you writing a diary? Grow up!



What are the benefits of confronting one's ugliness? Evaluate them for rectification, I suppose. Swallow the reality of who you are... and then, strive to attain some level of beauty?

As always, I envision holding my heart in my hands, all battered and defective, for all my times of having stupidly dealt with things -- self-sabotage and what-not, and hand them over to You. For I don't trust anyone else, especially myself.

Ah, I should blog, I should just blog. I used to fall to this a lot more frequently, a lot more easily, when I was younger. Because writing things, privately or otherwise, and saying things out -- clarifies one's own thoughts first, before it helps others.


The fruit of all the service that I serve
Despair doth reap, such hapless hap have I.
But though he have no power to make me swerve
Yet, by the fire, for cold I feel I die.

In paradise, for hunger still I starve;
And, in the flood, for thirst to death I dry.
So Tantalus am I, and in worse pain
Amids my help, and helpless doth remain.

Help me to seek, for I lost it there, 
And if that ye have found it, ye that be here
And seek to convey it secretly.
Handle it soft and treat it tenderly,
Or else it will plain and then appear;
... Help me to seek

... I wis it was a thing all too dear
To be bestowed and wist not where;
It was my heart. I pray you heartily,
Help me to seek.



Reading this for God-knows-how-many-times-already, but today hit me differently, harder, than before. And made me want, in that very instance, to go home and cry into a pillow. But instead, I sat sipping a Mango macchiato at a KOI cafe, stared into space, and waited for a meet-up with J.



Then there are excellent comic moments that make me snort out loud, like when Nostradamus was trying to advertise his complexion cream:

"If used from the age of fifteen," Master Nostradamus said briskly, "it will preserve lifelong beauty and enable the skin at sixty to look as young as that of a twenty year-old. The contents are quite pure. Sublimate, quicksilver, rose-water, and the saliva of a young person who for three days has eaten onions without vinegar. Boiled, I may assure you, for the length of two Paternosters and two Ave Marias, repeated with reverence."

...

She sent for the pot of complexion cream. If one had to turn back the clock, one might as well begin systematically.



I'm trying not to be deliberately cryptic, really, but these are my thoughts, all jumbled throughout the day. Was it Walt Whitman the poet who said -- I am large. I contain multitudes. To put them all to coherent form and give commentary, is maybe to analyse prematurely, who knows. Besides, I don't think I have the mental energy. Let me just have them recorded, and some other day...

On a lighter note, put forth by the lighter aspects of my self:

It goes to show how far gone I am that I get how this is funny.  This was AWEsommmmmeee! ohhhmygod. Unfortunately, unless you have enough knowledge of the history of this show, and the history of its members, this wouldn't be half as funny. And it shocks me again -- how am I this nut. Why do I so easily get sucked into things.

And Gary's latest music video has Jihyo in it --

Way to fan the flames, Monday couple.

You two just know you'll rake in all the $$$ exploiting your very evident chemistry, deshou?

Last but not least, something I just finished watching, that talks about the importance of mentors.

It has crossed my mind several times: Who can help me? I don't know anybody. 

Where do I find them? Oh, I kid myself. 

Several names and possibilities have already popped into my head. 

The question appears to be, 

how do I gather the guts and the discipline to do what needs to be done?

Well, now I just feel silly.


Just came back from the yearly Ihtifal Maulid Nabi (i.e. celebration for our Prophet's s.a.w. birthday) -- only in SG this time round, meh -- and I was reminded today how small my self-absorbed problems were. Yes, they bother me. Yes, they unfortunately exist, at least in my mind. But the moment I started thinking about Nabi s.a.w., all I wanted to do was cry and cry and cry. For being so silly. For ever forgetting about him and the big picture and trust and faith. I don't like being this silly, pathetic woman. I want to be strong and work hard and make you proud. Please keep me close to you.

Today was very long, but I noticed a bit more this time how we were all concertedly there together, despite language barriers, racial differences, across distances, and across comfort zones, to be united under the same Prophet. It made me happy. Like, given another situation, would we be doing this? Would I have gone to a Tamil-Muslim house, say, to visit one of their boys who recently got into an accident? Would I go out of my way to take care of him seeing as how he's going to be coming to KK Rehab for therapy? Would we sit listening to Qasidahs in Urdu and Burmese and funny English lines thrown into the midst of the drumbeats? Would I have otherwise ever gotten to meet and hug and love people who I barely know but feel an affinity for? Sudanese, Yemenis, Syrians, Egyptians, Saudis, Malaysians, Indonesians and Burmese.

I'm remembering the two Syrian boys I met a year ago -- I hope they're fine. The family was already out of Syria and living in Turkey by that time when we met.

There's so much work to do out there, S. Let's get cracking. I think it's good that Rabiul Anwar is coinciding with the Gregorian New Year. Makes for a refreshing all-round renewal.