Knowing others is wisdom,
Knowing yourself is enlightenment.
-- Lao Tzu

💜

I'd like to think the difficult path I'm walking on right now,
will stand me in stead in the future.
Like I said before, I'm desperate for a level-up.
So much so that I dreamt it, haha. I told E about it,
that I dreamed that I discovered I had an extra set of eyes hidden behind my normal ones.
But I was so freaked out, I shut it back almost immediately.

I don't want to resist or be afraid anymore.
Let me be brave and embrace who I am,
with a new pair of eyes.

We are the authors of our lives.
We write our own daring endings.
We craft love from heartbreak,
Compassion from shame,
Grace from disappointment,
Courage from failure.
Showing up is our power.
Story is our way home.
Truth is our song.
We are the brave and broken-hearted.
We are rising strong.

-- Rising Strong, Brene Brown

fangirling post! 
I got into a sudden bout of nostalgia tonight
and started revisiting the past.

this song from Hanadan! -- nostalgic.

Domyouji x Tsukushi

and Hana Kimi!

haha ohmygod, this drama is literally one of the few PWP (i.e. Plot? What, plot?) dramas

I actually loved. So full of randomness and crack.

And honestly I just loved Toma so much in it, he stole the scene every time.

This scene will always remain one of the funniest things for me:
Nakatsu is grappling with his sexual identity
(thinking he's possibly gay because he's falling for his schoolmate
who he thinks is a boy but is of course gorgeous girl Horikitty)
and then gets really happy to realise that maybe he's not gay!
He still likes girls! It's hilarious.

And I've always loved the opening for the show;

the panning outwards from Maki-chan -- what a series of kakkoi faces, hahaha.

(I'm quite sure at least partly photoshopped, but still hehe)
Could you tell she was a girl amidst all the pretty guys?

And Tegoshi! I used to like this show,
Sekai no Hatte Made ItteQ; cute animals.

This isn't a particularly recent speech,

but I did just watch it;

and it was lovely and moving (doubtless made me cry, if you know me) --

because it is very disheartening and discouraging,

the reality of fighting for women's rights on the ground,

or even the daily fight of being a woman.

And what I find extra painful and disheartening,
is when Muslim men especially dismiss it
thinking that it's outside of the religion or that surely, Muslims are exempt from this --
excuse me!
it's one of the major gripes I have about Muslim institutions in general
that unwittingly (or not) restrict the potential and ambition of amazing women.
check your privilege!
check what the Prophet s.a.w. fought for.

It's not the word 'feminism' that matters, but the ideas and ambitions behind it.

Right you are, Emma Watson. I wish people would get it a bit more. Stop bickering about semantics, and reflect on what you mean or what you stand for if you say you're against feminism.

I actually wanted to post about privilege in general, having followed the recent hoohah surrounding Alfian Sa'at's facebook posts (see below), and getting infuriated about people's blindness to their privilege. And feminism works similarly. Men, check your privilege. White people of any society (white being metaphorical for the dominant race and culture), check your privilege. People born to at least a modicum of wealth and comfort (and therefore what it affords you in life), check your privilege. People gifted with anything from God, check your privilege.

Checking your privilege = Acknowledging your inherent privileges and putting them aside in order to understand another human being's plight. (I actually got this from a South Park clip, haha.)






Personally, my struggle is perhaps acknowledging my privilege of having a thorough and varied education, that then affords me the perspective and understanding that I am able to have about these issues. And I have to have patience with people who can't seem to see what I see. Patience with everyone because each person has their own journey.

💜

Work never ends --
I'd say I was doing productive work almost
every hour I was awake today --
and yet, I still can't get things done.

My plate is too full. This is too crazy.
Why does this world always do too many things.
Less is more.
I will move towards that as the year progresses,
insya Allah.

CCA crises (hehe, that's what I've taken to calling it) as an adult:
*2 book clubs (I know right, whaaaat -- but I love both books we've chosen)
*1 children's book club (i.e. parent workshop thing I'm conducting of my own accord)
*Python computing course (what the heck, S, this was one thing I think in retrospect you could have done without although, yes, programming again feels fun, and this time I have E with me; the question is: how do I transfer this programming stuff into real-life technology that might actually help my day job?)
*2 Arabic classes (again, I know right, whaaaaat. what is wrong with you, S. I literally have zero defences against planning fallacies.) --> I have another Arabic Exam this weekend. Come to think of it, I have Arabic tests every 6 weeks or something. How on earth am I not combusting?
*possibly a Malay workshop for parents on language development in children

*and of course, I blog incessantly. That's not even a CCA anymore; that's a need. I read/write/blog like I eat, sleep, and pray.

ZZZ. Can I split myself into 7 then. Or give me a time-turner.

I've been seeing things, and the world, I feel, quite differently now.
There is a shift.
This seems to mirror my internal shift when I turned 21.
(Except this feels more earth-shatteringly different. Or maybe it's just proximity.
Give it time.)
Is this what's going to happen to me every decade, I wonder.
If so, Alhamdulillah.

I am reminded of this:
God turns you from one feeling to another
and teaches by opposites,
so that you will have two wings to fly,
not one.
-- Rumi


And I've also been thinking that the essence of privilege (in this world at least)
is not having to contemplate certain things in life
and go by your assumptions without questioning them ever.
It's the thing that leads to subtle racism, subtle elitism, subtle sexism.
(add more -isms to this list if you can)
Subtle because blatant mistreatment of others does not require such an examination of our own behavior; we can easily tell when something is blatantly unjust. (You don't pay someone less just because their skin is darker than yours, duh.) But those subtle things? It requires an examination of yourself and all your assumptions and all the minute little behaviours you engage in. Be ready to embrace shame, and acknowledge all your flaws -- that is, if you want to level up.

I am learning this, and it is so hard.

I am reminded of something else; once, during an NUS USP Human Relations class (years and years ago), we were asked what values we felt mattered most in a person. If you pause to think on this, it's not that easy a question to answer. But I do distinctly recall everyone, myself included, having open-mindedness as an essential trait. It was kind of amazing that we all concurred on that. That an essential attribute in a human being is a receptiveness to information, a receptiveness to feedback and perspectives, and essentially, a receptiveness to truths. Because if you don't have this basic trait, what hope is there of change in you for the better?

I just managed to finish one end-of-intervention report, whilst sitting in the very wonderful Tampines library, and I just feel like plonking my head down on the table now. TIRED, MENTALLY-DRAINED. I feel like I'm writing each report like it's an entire book; because isn't each report a summary of each child? These individuals are complex and wonderful and there are so many details! How do I balance the effort it takes to write this report and give justice to the reality of the child's abilities? *eternal professional / clinical issues*

Anyway, while looking for a seat in the library earlier and failing to do so, I diverted and started browsing the bookshelves instead -- dangerous activity as usual. And I found this tiny little book called, "A Monk's Guide to a Clean House and Mind" by Shoukei Matsumoto, that of course I'm going to leave the library with in a moment.

Already, in the intro, there were some beautiful little takeaways:

We sweep dust to remove our worldly desires. We scrub dirt to free ourselves of attachments. The time we spend cleaning out every nook and cranny of the temple grounds is extremely fulfilling. We live simply and take time to contemplate the self, mindfully living each moment. It's not just monks who need to live this way. Everyone in today's busy world need to do it.

Here's another bit about cleaning floors:

It goes without saying that dust will accumulate in a home that is never cleaned. Just as you have finished raking the leaves, more are sure to fall. It is the same with your mind. Right when you think you have cleaned out all the cobwebs, more begin to form. Adherence to the past and misgivings about the future will fill your head, wresting your mind from the present. This is why we monks pour ourselves heart and soul into the polishing of floors. Cleaning is training for staying in the now. Therein lies the reason for being particular about cleanliness.


I should really see cleaning and household work as part of cultivating the mind, which is how the Japanese culture sees it -- their elementary schools start out teaching kids early on about the sacredness of doing cleaning work. Everyone cleans together! I see it too much as a chore. But if I tell myself while I put away laundry that this is part of cultivating my mind, then I might do it more diligently. Insya Allah!

I'm reminded of karate kid: Wax on, wax off.

*spoilers for Checkmate, Lymond Chronicles

I was walking (part of my work involves a lot of walking) and then I suddenly recalled something from Lymond -- and I realise I do this a lot. Beautiful pieces of literature that I have subconsciously consumed at some point earlier in life, are evoked later in my mind, after an experience, or on reflection. And that's the mark of good art, isn't it. That they are only deeply understood over time, and with maturity.

The famous Lymond-Philippa confrontation scene that I love has a line that always stuck with me, that as a 15-year-old, I perhaps could not fully appreciate. But then now, it suddenly took on a fuller dimension; oh, Lymond, I do hate and love him at the same time. It's frustrating, but I get him here; I really do. He's right, isn't he? It makes me realise that that whole period of time might have been quite worse for Lymond than Philippa although on the surface, he was such an ass to her. I mean, of course, wonderfully, it appears he was wrong about Philippa, but his fear is legitimate. I want to cry thinking about it.

"Do you know, Philippa, what an unsuitable match is? It isn't the kind I shall have with Catherine d'Albon, or even the kind you'll make with young Allendale. When one human being is trapped in the net of another's grand passion: then it comes about, and it is tragedy. It happened to Gavin and Sybilla. It is happening to Jerott and Marthe..."

"I had no expectations," Philippa said. The tears stood still on her face. "This is one lesson I know by heart already."

Of course, Philippa had to wrap her head around the fact that Lymond was talking about himself, not her; goodness, this unbelievably confusing and frustrating man. But however convoluted it all was, I'm so happy it ended well; these two will eternally be my favourite fictional couple.

And as I was hunting for the above quote, I brushed over certain other portions of the book, and I realise how much I love Philippa. I really think I do love Philippa more than Lymond. I don't know. I love her so much, seriously. She is a beautiful character; just so much pluck and love in all of her being.

Like this adorable bit, when Philippa hilariously quells Piero Strozzi's bluntness about attempting to ask Lymond about his 'son' by stomping on his foot -- it's her way of politely saying, shut up don't you dare ask that of Lymond, you insensitive block-headed person! I literally said out loud, "Ohmygod, I love you, Philippa." The things she does that speak of her love for other people, and the courage she has to do it, in service of that love and of honour and of dignity.

(Lymond has a soft moment where he decides to help one of the struggling serving boys during a royal banquet) This made me laugh but also gave me such fuzzy feelings of love for her:

"Oh Christ, he's going to spill jelly all over us" He switched to French. "I see, mon cher, you carry this as the King's pages do. I know a better way. Hold it thus, and thus. You see? And smile. The King likes smiling faces."

Piero Strozzi closed his mouth, which had fallen ajar. "Of course," he said. "You have a son, don't..."

He roared. "I beg your pardon. My foot slipped," said Philippa. "Have a date flan, and don't talk so much while the hautboys are playing. If you lose your voice, none of us will know what to do."

And this bit as well, makes me love Philippa even more (it's far too hard to explain the context; if you read Checkmate, you'd know this highly-charged scene, instigated by Marthe -- another character that evokes such conflicting feelings in me):

"Look at her," to her brother. "You drunken fool, why do you think she follows you? To be lectured, to take arms, to care for your bastards? She loves you. She's ripe for you. What have you to lose? Embrace her. Then take her home and see if I am right or not," Her voice thickened. "Remember me?" she said. "The marriage will stand."

Philippa dropped her hands and turning, walked to the fireplace. "Thank you," she said to the wall.

Face to face, Francis Crawford and his sister looked at one another.

"And thank you from me," said Lymond pleasantly. "You are an expert in love? In morality? In Christian conscience? How? From the stews of a fortune-teller's in Lyon? From your years as a Muslim, scouring the Levant for money? From your marriage to --"

"Stop it," said Philippa. She had turned.

"...from your marriage to Jerott?" Lymond said. "Go on. Be our guide. Look about. What other paramours can you find for me, sister?"

"Stop it!" said Philippa, at the top of her voice this time. She faced them, breathing quickly. "None of you knows what you're doing. Be quiet. If nothing will end it but someone's pride being broken, then as usual, it had better be mine. Mr Crawford, I am sorry to be lacking a beard, but if you will briefly be Jason, I shall do what I can with Medea. With the utmost distaste, let us embrace one another."

---

And in the spirit of giving tribute to my favourite fictional heroes, 

here's another:

Dean Winchester!

(I am about to start Season 13 soon....)

This totally cheered me up on the way back from work today

(gosh these boys are just amazing and hilarious):

And since it's the new year, almost unconsciously us fans are already waiting for the next album to drop. Sept-Oct / Feb-Mar always appear to be comeback periods -- and it's nice to be a fan of something and anticipate wonderful stuff coming.

Work-wise -- things are piling up! I'm digging back into work the start of this year. Ja!

---

BBC Radio made a documentary on BTS and Kpop!!

yes, the whole thing is fascinating.

But I like to think that although BTS is Kpop,

they're paving the way to a better and hopefully healthier version of it.

Wednesday night happy vibes

of course, why did I forget:

Ya Rasulullah
I belong to you.

💚

A precious thing or desired object may be any of three categories:
what's sought for means to an end,
what's sought for its intrinsic value,
what's sought for both.

hmmmmmmmm.

So my sister and I are having a conversation in the night about life,
and while trying to express something,
I said something quite hilarious that cracked us up:

Maybe for some things there's no right or wrong,
but... pain and less pain.


😂

Well, haha, obviously there are some things that are clearly right and clearly wrong -- like murder! But you know, those other ambiguous, apparently-neutral things in life -- what makes those supposed things right or wrong? How would we know what makes a certain decision right or wrong? Right???

I don't know. But for those things, I guess if you're in so much pain, then don't...? Or if it's too difficult, then don't? I don't know. Sembahyang istikharah, just choose! and then don't look back.

Finally reading the very-popular When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi 

and this resonated (not that I'm on a death sentence at all);

but I think I understand the feeling of thinking you know something,

and then wondering later, typically amidst significant life experience, 

what changed? I thought I knew it. Maybe I didn't really know it?

"Before my cancer was diagnosed, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn't know when.

After the diagnosis, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn't know when.

But now I knew it acutely. The problem wasn't really a scientific one.

The fact of death is unsettling. Yet there is no other way to live."

The only thing I can attribute it to is our human tendency to self-deceit.

Guys, we all know we're approaching death,

but we... pretend we're not? It's strange, isn't it?

It's like a psychological trick so we don't have to deal with the fear and the reality of things.

And another one from Brene Brown in Braving The Wilderness, 

(something I shall have to learn by heart):

Stop walking through the world looking for confirmation that you don't belong.

You will always find it because you've made that your mission.

Stop scouring people's faces for evidence that you're not enough.

You will always find it because you've made that your goal.

True belonging and self-worth are not goods;

we don't negotiate their value with the world.

The truth about who we are lives in our hearts.

Our call to courage is to protect our wild heart against constant evaluation,

especially our own.

No one belongs here more than you do.

I can't believe this show has 13 Seasons now!

and I still love it, hahahaha.

Everytime I watch horror movies and it gets unbearable,

I wish Sam and Dean would get into the scene

and deal with the monsters instead.

So I've been reading and watching some gender-themed and strongly-feminist stuff lately (including my latest Korean drama, which highlighted the difficulties for women in the workplace and in society in general; I love it so much):

I admire this lady more and more.

I think it's high-time I read a book of hers:

And I watched this Netflix documentary from a few years back,

about American masculinity:

And to be fair I listened to a little anti-feminist rhetoric as well:

And after it all, I remind myself to pause a little bit, and then check my yardstick (because it's very easy to fall sway to the endless arguments within the world of moral relativism); I think of the Prophet s.a.w., and think about what he would approve. And I'm sorry, don't you think he would be on the side of women? Yes, he would. 😌

He was a feminist man through and through, in a time when the concept of feminism was inconceivable. Extrapolate that to this day, what kind of man would he be in our current society? I wonder. Would he approve the kind of woman I aspire to be? He gave the true example of masculinity: strong and yet gentle; a general on the battlefield and a leader of men, but at the same time would partake in household chores as a daily duty, love and kiss children, and listen to women's advice, and declare love for his wife in front of other men. Actually, I'm realising it's wrong to think of his life as an example for men; he was an example for humanity! As a woman, I too want to serve society, be brave out in the world, but be gentle, respectful, and loving with all people. All the boys in that documentary who were struggling with concepts of masculinity and given poor examples, would they all not have been saved if they had the Prophet s.a.w. as an idol, as an example, as a role model for this life? Would not the entire Muslim world fare better if we actually and truly followed in the footsteps of our Prophet s.a.w.? I wish so deeply that we all would, or at least tried harder, myself included.

---

Not entirely unrelated actually:
there are so so so so many reasons to love BTS,
(and if you know them enough it's impossible to not love them),
but one of the biggest reasons they are awesome,
is their trend-setting now for what it means to be masculine.
I could write a paper on this I think.
(and hey! BBC is releasing a documentary on BTS soon; exciting!
I'll be sure to post it when it's out.)

BTS is perceived as cool, and talented, and strong (think Jungkook and his obsession over his muscles, this little boy), and smart (think Namjoon and his insane reputation as high-IQ genius); admired by both young men and young women. And at the same time, they're not afraid to be goofy and silly, or sad and in pain, or affectionate with their male buddies, or cry in public, or share their feelings on stage, or say "I love you!" to fans and to each other, and throw hearts every time they perform. It is amazing. You can be soft and vulnerable, or have a history of pain and hurt and ridicule, and still be a cool, strong, and awesome man today. I love this so much about all of them, their authenticity; and you can see how they play off each other's strong traits, all seven of them, so that together they are incredible. It's such a healthy thing that they have, and it's something we can all learn from.

An example of why their performances are so awesome:

do you see how cute and silly they are

with those crazy hearts they slotted into their performance???

I always do think Jin is commonly the instigator for such crazy yet lovely nonsense,

and I love him all the more for that open goofiness he brings to the group.

Soft front, strong back, wild heart.
-- Braving The Wilderness,
Brene Brown

I've indulged in some escapism for a while. As things mend for me internally, hopefully. I go on these long binges of any one thing, even work. I've figured if there's one thing I have in complete excess, it's inertia (which gasp, is proportional to weight! *facepalm*); when I start to really get into something, it's like a blackhole I can't get out of. Yesterday, I finally sat at the office to do some work and kept at it for hours and was unintentionally one of the last few to leave. If I think or say that I will leave soon -- give me at least 1.5 hours before I make a move. And when I binge-watch tv, especially korean drama, I am almost scared of myself; I actually get headaches from incessant watching.

I am aware it's escapism -- but I tell myself, for the time being. This is me taking care of myself, at some level. I hope.


So the current soma is this amazing slice-of-life korean drama called Because This Is My First Life. Calling it soma is wrong, I feel, because it's got such substance: I've cried so terribly over it, and it's not so much sad plot moments (although there were those too) but these overwhelmingly beautiful reflective scenes, that feel so unbearably real.

Multiple times while watching I wondered the eternal question, 

does life imitate art, or art imitate life?

It still has a familiar korean drama plot that makes you binge on it like candy (boy and girl with a fake marriage contract fall in love eventually -- overdone plot device you would think!), but add character depth and development, and beautiful, reflective dialogue, and there you have an absorbing, heart-wrenching masterpiece. And the themes! ohymygod, the themes of this story! Not to mention the not-so-subtle feminist undertones; genius. This drama is perfect to me right now.

Storytellers are geniuses. I've come to truly appreciate that truth as I grow older. The mastery and intelligence that it takes to craft the complexity of character and plot and language into art -- I have almost a reverence for it all.

I don't even know which part of this story I would say is getting to me exactly; all of it? I adore the main characters; they're full and fleshed out and unique. Themes of broken dreams, picking up the pieces of your dreams, reality vs. dreams, lack of belonging, friendship, owning who you are and facing yourself, love and what it all means, love vs. marriage, love vs. sex, family, eternal issues with your parents but they're still the most likely constant love you will have in life, and an overarching c'est la vie! It's okay, life is life, deshou. Heartbreak is part of it, pain is part of it, but so is joy, and hope, and we're all doing this life for the first time.

One of my favourite scenes has the pair of friends Ji Ho and Soo Ji talking as they usually do when any one of their group of friends encounter catastrophes in life -- and then afer Ji Ho spouts some nice, philosophical lines from a movie (The Graduate starring Dustin Hoffman -- I also dig the pop culture references in this show!), Soo Ji pauses and gets it, and just says, "It's hard, is it?" And Ji Ho just silently nods as tears start building up, and  my tears followed suit. Goodness, it was just so beautifully done; a quiet moment pregnant with meaning.

Finished a wonderful two-day course about play and narratives and the power of telling stories
with Dr. Carol Westby, a speechie in her 70s (I think...). It's amazing, her lifetime of work.

And she shared so much about the power of stories;
why is it that everything seems to confirm and correlate and corroborate
with everything else in my life at the moment?

I even wanted to re-post this TED talk about the danger of the single story

and she shared this with everyone today too!

And there's this as well:

What was I complaining about, feeling alienated? (Subhanallah.)

Frak, a lot of people feel that way, S. Let's be brave.

A lot of these people turned out amazing.

Meeting so many of my ex-classmates and speechies I know reminds me of the moments of belonging that I felt -- and it's true what Brene Brown and Maya Angelou were getting at -- those moments of belonging, it's not that I finally found people who were similar to me. It's that I cared not about my difference, we cared not at all about our differences; we were united because of the same human purpose. And while not many spaces can afford us this beautiful experience, I would do well to remember that it's not about eliminating difference, it's about embracing it fully and celebrating everyone's uniqueness. (I'm still learning, I'm still learning.) My SLP class -- we were all different but we were all accepting and kind and celebrated each other. It was such a healthy and beautiful space. I still love that group of people to this day. 

And I will not just have windows, but mirrors on my bookshelf too.

Maybe I'll try to read some local literature.

Chithra was sharing at the end of today something that resonated with so many of us (and why we speechies love doing our work; not least because we learn so much about ourselves and about the nature of humanity):

"When I first became a speech therapist, I thought I'd be helping people to talk. But then I realise... a lot of people could talk but could not relate. And then later I learnt, what they needed to do before they could relate was to connect. And before they could connect, they had to be coherent."

All of us need to create coherent life stories to live well. Have you told yourself your life story? Is it a good one?

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." -- Maya Angelou

So, this is somewhat ridiculous. I have to be up early tomorrow, and unlike other nights, I'd actually attempted bed early, but tossed and turned incessantly with all these thoughts in my head and heaviness in my heart. So I traipsed down the stairs past 1 in the morning, having to unburden onto this space. Because it is my space, and it speaks my truth. And I'm thinking that it then, can give me comfort.


I've been reading voraciously all of Brene Brown's works now, as you would have known if you gleaned my more recent posts. And even as I struggle to finish our book club read (Margaret Atwood's Robber Bride, which is another bleak and dismal view of the world; seriously, does this woman write anything not-depressing?), I am reading Brown's most recent book called "Braving the Wilderness". I'm still in the early bits of the book, but she had already started talking about belonging, revisiting some concepts she had earlier introduced; she started telling her story of how she felt like she did not belong -- about how she failed to make the drill team in high school (you know, being part of the cool club) the way her parents did (being part of the cool club themselves), and how their silence when she failed cemented further the reality of her failure, and that time in her life defined so starkly for her how, having always been the new girl at school and not belonging with her peers, she now in addition did not belong to her family.

I know that it is far from her intention to trivialize the feeling of alienation; it's the perception on the part of the person that matters; it's how alienated you feel from the people around you and not the degree of apparent difference between you and your social environment. But when I read her story, I almost scoffed. This was alienation to you? I know I'm wrong but I feel like I know best how it feels to always be the square peg in the round hole. Maybe everyone feels like this, to some degree, or not. I don't know. I only know my experience. I don't think there's ever been a time in my life I've felt like I identified with any group of people, at all, for more than illusory and brief moments. Even with my family.

Even when the thing that differentiated me from everyone else was a supposed-positive thing -- like being the smartest kid in the family across the board on both sides -- the pleasure of approval fades fairly quickly (leading to desperation for the next accolade and the next level of approval) to be replaced once again by a feeling of wrongness. There is something wrong with me; why am I not like everyone else? Primary school was still fine; though I still felt like I stuck out, my awareness of my difference was like a buzzing at the back of my head. It didn't bother me most of the time. And children at that age were still accepting and open and honest, and played with each other regardless.

Then self-awareness set in and secondary school began, and my growing eyes reflected on my difference, and made it so stark -- I now realise what I did; so that I would not see the difference, I avoided those spaces that would put the difference to light. I withdrew. I avoided the Malay Room like the plague (it agonized me that I had to go there to pray) -- because my goodness, everyone was always just too loud. If you belong to the Malay community, good luck in surviving as an introvert. Being quiet meant you were arrogant, no question; or dumb, perhaps. And in that room, you were somehow expected to know everyone or be able to say the right things, and to this day, one of my most vivid memories of my early days in RG was thinking, "How do all these people seem to already know one another?"

I felt like I did not fit in with my own kind. And to this day, I feel like I don't. I don't know if the way it is now is just a snowballing from then, but put me amongst my own kind, and I don't think I talk about the 'right' things or behave the 'right' way. Put me with my work colleagues say, who are mostly not of my kind, and I still don't fit in because I'm not the same kind to begin with! It's a strange world I feel I live in. Not to mention the whole thing about being a woman, and what a woman is supposed to be, and how obviously I don't fit in the nice, obedient, Muslimah category, but neither am I the obvious, brazen, bold, liberal. It is exhausting. It is exhausting to feel and live like the sore thumb. I'm struggling so hard right now to fully own who I am. I don't know how long this struggle will take, but God, I am so tired. I am so tired. And now, it feels extra worse because everyone is pitifully wondering why I have not partnered up yet -- and I don't know how to tell them, but I'm sorry, do you understand my whole life of being an alien? I have pockets of connection with people but they are few and far in-between. (And this reminds me again of how insulted I felt when someone tried to lump me as a woman just rabid to be married, when excuse me, how dare you reduce the complexity of my life; I'd concluded right then that of course, you don't see me at all; how could I have been so dumb.)

I feel and think all this, and sometimes I remember the kids I see, and I feel ashamed. Because I said I scoffed at Brene's story of alienation, and then there are my kids who are struggling. They would scoff at my silly struggles. (I think I gravitate to my work because I feel such an affinity for feelings of alienation.) The worst type of cases are sometimes the type of kids who know enough to understand that they are different; the ensuing struggle and pain of feeling like they're not enough, then manifesting as difficult behaviour. At the end of the day, we all just want to be accepted and loved for who we are, and not have our worth hinged on some external measure.


There is no conclusion to this post; I have to learn to post somewhat differently now. Because my struggle continues, and who am I to write conclusions when I don't know any. And God, please have mercy; I am still learning. Amin.

I looked this up, somewhat in relation to the above;

from Dead Poets' Society:

"Pain will subside only when we acknowledge it. Addressing it with love and compassion would take only a miniscule percentage of the energy it takes to fight it, but approaching pain head-on is terrifying. Most of us were not taught how to recognize pain, name it, and be with it. Our families and culture believed that the vulnerability that it takes to acknowledge pain was weakness, so we were taught anger, rage, and denial instead. But what we know now is that when we deny our emotion, it owns us. When we own emotion, we can rebuild and find our way through the pain."

...

"The clearer and more respected the boundaries, the higher the level of empathy and compassion for others. Fewer clear boundaries, less openness. It's hard to stay kind-hearted when you feel people are taking advantage of you or threatening you."

-- Braving the Wilderness, Brene Brown

So tonight we had our typical Wed-evening spiritual / religious learning circle --
and yes, I got my happy pill again! I feel human and me again. Alhamdulillah.


And I'm thinking -- instead of thinking that I have to wait for my weekly/fortnightly happy pills, I probably have to figure out what it takes to sustain this mental and spiritual state, right? So that I can be a decent, productive, and compassionate human being as much as possible. And I realised, well, of course, what you sow in your heart matters -- the Prophet s.a.w. as your guidance and guarantor. That should be the fountain of whatever else you need to sustain in life: courage, joy, contentment, and peace. S, please remember.

On a rather separate note, I was listening to someone quote Maya Angelou,

and I wanted to keep this here to ponder on:

"Like a tree planted by the river,

I shall not be moved." 

- Maya Angelou

first time ever I've truly admired a young youtuber!
Youtube and popular social media is typically filled with a certain personality profile,
that is obviously not me; but here, this girl feels different, speaks different, and is such a breath of fresh air on youtube -- I adore her.

and synchronicity or not, recently I bought
The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When The World Overwhelms You by Elaine N. Aron,

and she's one too! (although I'm still trying to decide if I'm a fully fledged one; maybe borderline).

birds of a feather...

Hello, 2018!

I've been waiting for today to blog;
I said I wouldn't blog again till 2018 and I had to refrain --
(oh, S, why always so hard to follow plans)
so, finally here.


I wanted to say that I tried to story-rumble -- sort of -- tried to confront someone and get my story more accurate; and I'm so proud of myself for being brave. On retrospect, since it was more or less my first conscious story-rumble, it didn't go so well beyond the first few moments, because I got increasingly angry and I couldn't step back from my anger and think clearly. But I certainly had more data and corrected my story so that I could understand and change things now. I am glad I left the wrong story in 2017 and am ready to brave newness this year.

It's becoming more apparent how true it is: that when you speak about what matters to you, however little or small you think it is, you build your self-worth. Of course this does not mean you become rude and spout any nonsense that crosses your mind; this is about things that matter to you and you felt a significant emotion in response: be it anger, sadness, disappointment, hurt, or even joy and happiness. Suppressing any of this over time, and allowing others to undermine your feelings, becomes an insupportable agony, which stems from ultimately your own disappointment with your very self for not standing up for you. That's what I've learnt so far that I think I haven't done enough of, maybe -- standing up for myself. When you don't, you actually feel betrayed and that's where the agony comes in. (BTS is so right, haha -- Love Yourself guys, then you can love others well.) It doesn't matter whether the people on the outside did really do some wrong or evil to you; it is a given people will try to invalidate your feelings or your experience. But the point is, you're trying to make it matter. It matters, you matter. People with good and open hearts will at the least not try and invalidate your experience and embrace you as a person.

This reminds me of something from e. e. cummings:

A poet is somebody who feels, and who expresses his feelings through words.

This may sound easy. It isn't.

A lot of people think or believe or know they feel -- but that's thinking or believing or knowing; not feeling. And poetry is feeling -- not knowing or believing or thinking.

Almost anybody can learn to think or believe or know, but not a single human being can be taught to feel. Why? Because whenever you think or you believe or you know, you're a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you're nobody-but-yourself.

To be nobody-but-yourself -- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else -- means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.



Something else to tide me through the days of the year:

"You have done what you could --
Some blunders and absurdities have crept in.
Forget them as soon as you can.
Tomorrow is a new day.
You shall begin it serenely and
with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson