Eid 2011

Salaam,

Eid this year feels different. For some reasons I don't feel as happy as I was when I was younger. Maybe coz life's less fun when one gets older. Maybe it's the school assignments and tasks due that's lingering at the back of my head. Maybe it's the transition from Ramadhan routine to one that's a little different (if I allow it to differ). Or maybe sebab tak dapat duit raya.

It feels different coz I do not seem to miss the presence of Dad as much as I used to in the past. I think about him, I pray for him, but it feels as though I've forgotten about him. That I've moved on.

Also, I miss my friends.

Final day

It's been a week of self-confinement, thoughts wise.

A friend asked if something happened coz I become less cheerful. Another asked, "Why so serious?" and said, "Be flexible. Laugh." How do I explain to them that I smile only when no one's looking? And that I smile when I'm supposed to laugh and I laugh only when I'm supposed to roll-on-floor-laughing or laugh-out-loud. There's enough reasons that I can think off for me not to smile or laugh for no good reason. Just knowing there's someone out there quietly suffering is enough reason for me - orphans, parents who do not receive their due respect, old people having to beg or collect cardboards, and the likes. And when I laugh, it's like I'm no longer sharing the pain and sorrow of these strangers. Not laughing as and when I please is like the least that I can do to acknowledge and respect these strangers. For I used to find myself suffering in silence too.

Or maybe, when I was a kid, I remember hearing from somewhere that it's better to cry now and laugh in the hereafter than to laugh now, and cry later.

Words. Words from the past I seem to remember and latch on to and attempt to live up to. Words said to me, if it's meaningful, I'll not forget. Words said to me, if it's hurtful, I'll forgive but not forget. Words said to me, if it's just empty words, I will forget.

The last day of Ramadhan. This year's definitely different from the previous one. Next year, I hope to do it some place different. Insyaallah.

The things I busy myself with

Cover letter. Resume. Final Year Project. Readings. Prof meeting. Integrated Design meeting. Vasco Da Gama. Traffic tutorial. Waste Characterization. Last 8 nights. And other non-urgent but important issues nonetheless.

Prioritize. Strength. Patience.

Week 3 of 13, here too soon. Need good grades to land a decent job.

Things (always) happen for a reason

When your kids say things that make the past 22 years of life seem worthless, you'd cry. I don't think she made Mama cried but I sure did, somewhat. Perhaps it was a mixture of emotions from having watched 100 Hari on TV1. Perhaps it was because of the brain going into overdrive with questions such as:

Where could it have gone wrong? Why did she say that? Did she think when she say that? What have I done wrong? How does she aspect me to show my love?

And then the mind started to direct the questions towards me. The blame-yourself-before-you-blame-others mechanism must've triggered itself. Clearly I have not been the best of brothers. Far from able to fill in dad's shoes. That feeling of incompetence or lacking that little something must've made me shed tears enough to cleanse my whole face. Or maybe it was just His way of making experience the feeling of crying as I read the Quran....


23:1 Sungguh beruntung orang-orang yang beriman,
23:2 (yaitu) orang yang khusyuk dalam salatnya,
23:3 dan orang yang menjauhkan diri dari (perbuatan dan perkataan) yang tidak berguna


Whatever the reason may be, it's for everyone to reflect.

Deeper Conversations

To be grilled about love, life and everything else in between is something that I have to deal with whenever I hang out with the guys. Funny how it was only a while back when it was just us guys - no girls in the picture.

Conversation over Oreo McFlurry ended. The brain went into thinking-mode on our way back home. There's no room for distractions, I thought to myself. That night, in the middle of a dream that does not make sense, someone appeared and said two words:

"Thank you."

That face. And that smile. And then she went. And then Mama wakes me up for Sahur. The heart screams, "WHYYY?". Sigh.

I ate. Prayed. Read Surah Taha. I'm approximately 60 pages behind time. School assignments at the back of my head. Tutorials. Need to pack my bag. Her face. Her smile. Her thank you.

I smiled, and went to school.

After trying out some tutorial questions..

*Chucks Statistics-laden Traffic Engineering notes aside and hopes it makes sense when I wake up tomorrow.*

Next stop, Engineer and Society tutorial.

School: The remaining (couple hundreds of) days

Final year, finally.

I've been in school for 18 or so years of my life. This year marks the end of it ... unless I decide to pursuit some Masters thingy or something later on in life. But let's not look too far ahead.

Only the first week of school and there's already so many stuffs to read, plan and analyze. Final Year Project and a couple other group projects, wonderful. I remember telling some people that perhaps I'll look around for that special someone when I'm in my Final Year but I guess I'll have to postpone that thought till after graduation. Unless ....

Life's tricky

Being ill on Ramadhan has it's benefits. It causes the brain to think and reflect like as though it's your last day on Earth. It also cause doubt to be cast on you, especially when you're supposed to be somewhere else but you can't.

There's nothing much one can do about the things people think or say about you. What matters is that you remain truthful and true to who you want to be as a person. And hope someday, others see it.

Life's a tricky journey.

Eighteen

"Ma, there's a high cut Converse shoes that I saw. It costs $89. I wanna get it."

I gave a disapproving look at my brother. I told him, and his twin, that I first spent money on personal items like shoes and shirts when I was a couple years older than 18. That when I was eighteen, I had to set aside portions of my NS allowance for Mum and stuffs like that. I told them to save.

"But we have saved quite a fair bit. So we wanna spend it. You recently bought your floorball stick, floorball shoes and your street soccer shoes."

Funny how they love to bring those points of arguments up whenever the need arise. I told them I bought those items when I was 23 - five years older than 18. I told them to save money for a rainy day. Whether or not they listened, I don't really care. I just hope that somehow, the importance of thinking before spending sticks into their heads.

Just like how I convinced them that spending hundreds on a camera is a waste of money and how that money could be used to buy a PlayStation 3. Only to ask them later, "Why waste money on a PS3 when you're already having fun playing games on your laptop?" They agreed. Some couple hundred dollars remain available for use on some other day.

They're growing up - both physically and mentally - fast.

I just realized that the past 5 years, the only reason why they're spending their own money on their own stuffs is coz dad's no longer around to buy these stuffs for them. Maybe, just maybe, I should be the one getting that Converse for him - that should probably last the next 5 years.

Sibling Telepathy

Brother plays music from his laptop.

"You either switch it off or wear headphones." I wanted to tell him this, but I didn't. He must've heard my thoughts and switched it off some minutes later.

Music was heard from the adjacent room.

"You either switch off the radio or close your door." I wanted to tell her that, but I didn't. Moments later, one of the brothers closed the her door.

Reflections, reflections ...

Anger. If only they learn how to exercise restrain in speech, especially when in anger or in a bad mood. Apologies have depreciated in value over the years.

Patience. Not easy.

Ramadhan

Sunday marks the start of the fasting month of Ramadhan.

Sunday night saw me praying at the mosque, next to a guy about my age. He was laughing softly to himself every once in a while, during the prayers itself. At the end of the prayers, his father would remind softly him not to make too much noise during prayers. After every prayers, he would remind his son to follow the Imam and the son would always reply that he will.

2 different lives. I can't help but put myself in their shoes. And reflect. May Allah give them strength and patience, and save them from hellfire.

Monday night saw me going to the kitchen to find my mother cutting vegetables for Sahur in around 4 hours time. Everyone else is asleep. The things mothers do behind the scenes, we often fail to realize. May Allah give her strength and reward her with Jannah for all the sacrifices she has made for the family. May my sister be somewhat like our mother. And may my future partner who's hiding in some corner of the globe be ... well, the best mother ever.

The coming of Ramadhan inevitably reminds me of my late dad. While setting up the table, I'd have to remind myself that we only need five sets of utensils, no longer 6 - even though it has been 5 years. May Allah save him from the trial of the grave and from the punishment of the Fire.