Monday, June 30, 2008



I would be thinking of a multitude of things to write,
but when I face the computer and put my fingers on the keyboard,
my head felt chock-full of still water, and sometimes, it'll start to swim inside itself.


Perhaps screaming with my siblings and watching cartoons back-to-back is indeed the best thing to do now. Although I'm starting to get bored doing nothing. And Malaysia is much too hot and stuffy to go out much... I play badminton in the lawn when it's less than an hour before sundown.

The news are also much too annoying to be paid attention to.

The home is still without Internet or phone line. I'm trying hard to not shout anything rude to the Telekom operator who kept giving an 'estimated time' for the network to be recovered every time a report is made.

By the way, a few nights back, close to midnight, a thud was heard on the streets in front of my gate. My father went to check and returned with the news that it was a car hitting a cat. Of course, the cat was no longer alive.

Headaches. Eye-aches.

I know I need to see a GP about these eyes. Most probably it's something to do with the tear ducts, they've been troubling me for about two years and the attacks are more frequent these few months. Well, the GP can wait until I get back to the UK where I'll be straining them the worst.

Nothing constructive in this post. Creative and analytical thoughts are saved for other writings that are not meant for online viewing - yet. And even those are hard to coax out.


Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Romance In The Tropics



Quoting a dear friend, during one last long dash of conversation that helped to kill time (and quench the rindu) in the long watch of night, as I waited for daybreak to leave for the airport.
"Nak update blog malas, tengok anime ada masa pulak."

True to the statement, I've spent about ninety minutes reading the aforesaid anime-stuff (yes, I love to read and research anything watchable that I found engaging) in this cyber-cafe before I finally pushed myself to do some writing. I'm an easily obsessed feline.

Ridiculous though it may sound, I'm currently out of reach by almost everyone who knew me in the UK. The phone line - and with it, the Internet - is unavailable, thanks to repeated successful attempts of cable thievery. These creative sods. Meanwhile, my new Malaysia phone number is also known to almost nobody, since I did not bother to record anyone's phone number earlier. In a way, such a state of inaccessibility is almost blissful. No one being able to reach me instantly (and hand over a bulk of responsibilities to add to the existing pile). No one knows my whereabouts or my doings. I feel the romance of the self-exiled, seeking salvation in the wooded mountains, where grey-white fogs, dark green forests and chirping birds (with the occasional tigers) are company.

And now, I'm seeking contact with the uncivilised modernity, via the vessels of a cyber cafe in the heart of Metropolitan Kuala Krai.

Traveling from Manchester back to Kampung Lepan Pauh was as eventful as every day is. Pulling an all-nighter for fear of missing the nine a.m. flight, then simply collapsing on the six-hour journey to Doha - waking up occasionally to savour the food given and then drifting off to sleep again before I realised it with the food half-bitten. In Doha I had paid for the luxury of a transit lounge, and spent time - guess it - watching anime. There were several memorable moments of playing along to the advances of an airport staff. I guess he was tired enough to be deluded into thinking that a young girl sitting alone in the computer chamber oblivious to her surroundings is attractive ('beautiful' in fact.. uhu). I'll confine the rest of the events to memory, though.

Plus about 100 minutes of watching Garfield (oh I fell in love with Sir Roland), I ate and slept my way through the Doha-Kuala Lumpur flight. Arriving in KLIA - getting lost, typically, in finding my way out of the baggage claim arena - buy new SIM card - get KLIA Transit to KL Sentral - somehow arrive in Hentian Putra - buy bus ticket for the night journey home - collapse in the surau. Praise be to Allah who never left me alone, I was awakened by a concerned lady (who might've considered that there is a high possibility of that zonked out girl spread out on the floor next to her waking up with the Subuh adhan). It turned out that she had truly rescued me. In addition to the time then was barely one hour to the bus departure, the lady also somehow let me realize that my phone clock was also almost half and hour late. In other words, if Allah hadn't sent the graceful lady (who left almost before I was fully sober), I would've missed the bus.

I got home. Home to screaming brothers and sisters, same-as-before parents, and the unending supply of cartoon TV shows. As I said to my younger brother, I've had enough of real life dramas, I want to watch cartoons, cartoons, nothing but cartoons.

In case you haven't noticed, throughout the long journey home - that spanned almost two whole days - I didn't even once mention any pursuit of bookish pleasures. In simpler words, I did not read anything. Other than The Observer that I bought in Manchester Airport, flipped through the food and cookery section, and bequeathed it to the pocket of the seat in front of me in the QR042 plane to Doha. Truly, several days of constant heavy-weight(both literally and figuratively meant) motion has drained me. Completely. Packing up, moving my things, carrying various loads with various weights (mostly heavy) to various distances and various heights, going shopping for souvenirs, last-minute traveling, watching anime (ops), have left me mentally and physically drained that by the time I'm setting off to Malaysia, I was functioning on auxiliary power, so to speak. There simply wasn't enough 'concentration energy' and 'creative energy' to read or write, and what little remains were used to listen to music and staring into whatever it is within my field of vision.

Rare, but wonderful feeling of floaty detachment.

Perhaps you've guessed it. I didn't really write to prove any point. I just write because I loved doing it. =)

Truth and Promises

The blog hasn't been decently updated for a fairly long time, and the next available time for me to do it is not really fathomable. So I'll write some more. (As if I have thirsty fans waiting to savour the water-and-fire from my fingertips. That will happen though, insyaAllah, sooner or later. Do I sound like Naruto wanting to become Hokage, anyone?)

Ashes of Time is a movie directed by the legendary auteur Wong Kar-wai. In the last scenes, there was Maggie Cheung - her character was that of a lost love who lost her love (figure it out yourself) - lamenting her sad life as her beautiful features were washed golden by the sunset.

Pity was it that the clip wasn't found in Youtube, or I would've linked it here. In short, it was something along this line.

"Did you tell him that I was waiting for him?"
"No. You told me not to."
"Why were you so truthful?" The pain and melancholy in her quiet eyes surpass those expressed by hearty weeps and sobs.

When a person tells another to not tell the other something, do they really mean it, or do they secretly harbour wishes that the matter would somehow reach the third person anyway? (Such things often happened in movies and dramas - call anything a secret and it'll eventually be known to everyone it's supposed to be kept secret from.)

Is it a burden of honor to keep silent no matter what, or is it more honorable, more compassionate, more humane to let it leak? Or would the latter choice seem to be disrespectful to the first person's wishes, deeming the first person incapable of making his or her own decisions without being self-destructive?


My head is starting to throb, and I still have some serious work to do. I'll have to conclude it here.

As usual a few works of literature are underway, and I can't believe that I'm actually contemplating to write something that could classify as a fanfic.

I wish the person for whom these words are meant to would read them.

I was a loner, and to a certain extent, still am. I'm afraid of bonds, for I'm afraid of the pain I'll get when they were severed - and I've suffered countless times from it. Nevertheless, from time to time, I allow those bonds to form, and I allow myself to be dedicated to it. In fact, it is this kind of dedication that leads to the hurt - I love and hate with equal measure, equal intensity.

Trust is a big issue with me. Let's not talk about betrayals, though. Suffice it to say, this proud soul within me won't tolerate anyone who doesn't trust me. You don't trust me, then I can't be bothered to trust you or expect anything other than ordinary acquaintance with you.

However life has a funny way of challenging personalities and stands, almost before one realized it. For once I realized that I don't care whether you trust me the way I do towards you or not. The necessity of mutual, equivalent trust suddenly dissipated. Only one thing mattered - as long as you trusted me enough to unveil what little concern that you have to me, as long as I don't feel that I have to 'become somebody else' when I'm with you, then things between us had never changed. Your concern to my safety and security, and mine towards yours - albeit in different contexts - were enough to remind me that we were friends, still are, and would always be, Allah willing.

I won't put myself on a platter, grovelling at your feet, asking you to proclaim trust for me when you don't. If you don't.

I don't need you to proclaim it. Even completely independent of trust, love can exist. In our case, the latter is prevailing, and the former is still there, however minute. We're friends, through and through. Right?



Sunday, June 15, 2008


:: in the midst of packing - gotta get out of hall by 19th ::


Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Beauty, Brains and Expectations


Currently I'm doing loads of work in Bahasa Melayu... so it might be English for a while in my blogs. Must keep both sharpened, see.

There is a particularly interesting drama series that I watched over some streaming sites, and one of the main protagonists is simply great-looking. To my eyes, at least. His hair, eyes, chin, posture, attire, and way of interpreting his role, which was of the cold-genius type that I simply adore. (Yeah, given the right circumstances, cold people are waaay cool. Maybe it's narcissism, liking the traits that one perceives to be in one's self, 'coz I'm don't think I'm very warm either in person, although not much of a genius, at least now, and in the field that I'm obliged to pursue.)

Apparently I was only another person within a million who thinks so, because in the comments given by the viewers show that they're absolutely gushing for the young actor. They were praising his - everything - voice, looks, acting, anything visible or audible he presented. And I started to have my doubts about his actual worth as an actor. Is it just because of his handsome pretty-boy looks that people are absolutely gaga over him? Is it just because of his style and the mysterious, popular character that he's carrying, that people praised his acting to high heavens?

I'm far from being a drama instructor or a movie critic, but I have dipped my fingers in acting and directing - albeit limited to small scopes and unambitious projects, so to speak - since I'm nine years old. So I tried to gather all the bits of knowledge and experience scattered all over my memory, and attempted to assess the actor's performance, all the while having this bias that "It's just because he's handsome and beautiful, and he gets to play the role that viewers love to love, chances are he's not that good an actor really."

Anyway, I ended up reluctantly agreeing to the mass. For a young actor with not very much experience yet in the glass and silver screen, with more time spent in dancing and singing with his talent agency, the way he carried the role is excellent. His facial expressions - especially his eyes - are commendable. And he's only 14 years old. I might put it to loads of training and a demanding, hardworking, skilled director, but I have to accept that this kid CAN act. His graces do play a role in charming viewers and helping him get more in character, but it does not account for all the acknowledgements he received.

My point?

People's expectations depend a lot on circumstantial situations. I wonder if looks play an important role in that, especially in terms of intelligence and skills estimations. Do people usually have elevated impressions towards a more beautiful individual, or is it the other way round? As in my case, having prejudices towards a fairly talented actor, are persons with good looks - men, sometimes, women, usually - would really be subjected to negative assumptions regarding the amount of brain and skills that they have?

But then again, we are drilled with the necessity to 'dress for success'. I, for one, am quite a believer and practitioner (er, I don't think it's the right word, but well~) of that theory, when conditions require it. Good appearances make both ourselves and our counterparts feel more confident with what we're worth, although it does not actually play any direct role in improving one's performances in a majority of things. Having a proper hair-do or that impeccable pair of threepiece suit is important in interviews, but it does nothing physically to interfere in the communications and question-answerings. Likewise, a properly ironed and color-matched headscarf and blouse (not very frequent for me when attending classes, to be honest) are not really significant in helping me pay more attention in lectures, but I feel that my steps have extra springs in them when I go to campus looking - ehm, nice. And I think stray researches somewhere had claimed that people are more comfortable and attracted to people with attractive (duh, how obvious) and beautiful appearances.

It's all psychology, is it?

Do people gain real advantages from their looks - apart from seducing bosses to win that promotion? Come to think of it, people who are in high statures in life look nice - maybe not too attractive, but not eyesores either. Is it because of their stature that they manage to beautify themselves or is it because of their beauty that they manage to achieve that high stature?

Is it true that beautiful people have all the advantages?

Would you choose beauty over brain? Not in the case of 100% beauty + 0% brain or 100% brain + 0% beauty... but somewhere in between, somewhere closer to reality. Say, are you willing to be a few notches less intelligent or skillful than you are now if you can lose those extra pounds of fat, get rid of the acne scars and somehow have your flat nose turning into a Grecian one?

I'm not indulging in very-lengthy discourses this time (or so I think). I guess I'd invite my readers who regularly come or somehow stumbled into this blog while they were researching something like my own name, 'kucing belang', 'resepi ayam masak kicap', 'wanita dan kucing' or anything of that kind (yeah, they did, and it's half-flattering and half-creepy when it was the first item aforementioned, though of course there are plenty other 'adibah abdullah's out there!); to give their say on this.

Have your say in the comments section, I'll be delighted to read them. (If no one says anything, I'll pretend to not be embarrassed.)



Come to decide that the things that I tried
Were in my life just to get high on
When I sit alone come get a little known
But I need more than myself this time

Step from the road to the sea to the sky
And I do believe that we rely on

When I lay it on
Come get to play it on
All my life to sacrifice

Hey oh listen what I say oh

I got your
Hey oh now listen what I say oh, oh

When will I know that I really can't go

To the well once more time to decide on

When it's killing me
When will I really see
All that I need to look inside

Come to believe that I better not leave
Before I get my chance to ride

When it's killing me
What do I really need
All that I need to look inside

Hey oh listen what I say oh

Come back and
Hey oh look at what I say oh

The more I see the less I know

The more I like to let it go hey oh

Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder

Where it's so white as snow

Privately divided by a world so undecided
And there's nowhere to go

In between the cover of another perfect wonder
And it's so white as snow

Running through the field where all my tracks will
Be concealed and there's nowhere to go oh!

When to descend to amend for a friend

All the channels that have broken down

Now you bring it up
I'm gonna ring it up
Just to hear you sing it out

Step from the road to the sea to the sky

And I do believe what we rely on

When I lay it on
Come get to play it on
All my life to sacrifice

Hey oh listen what I say oh

I got your
Hey oh listen what I say oh

The more I see the less I know

The more I like to let it go hey oh

Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder

Where it's so white as snow

Privately divided by a world so undecided
And there's nowhere to go

In between the cover of another perfect wonder
Where it's so white as snow

Running through the field where all my tracks will
Be concealed and there's nowhere to go

I said hey, hey yeah oh yeah tell my love now
Hey, hey yeah oh yeah tell my love now

Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder
Where it's so white as snow

Privately divided by a world so undecided
And there's nowhere to go

Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder
Where it's so white as snow

Running through the field where all my tracks will
Be concealed and there's nowhere to go

I said hey oh yeah oh yeah tell my love now
Hey yeah yeah ooh yeah

- Taufik, gelaran 'akhawat' tu has ceased to have any real meaning to me. And to those concerned, I'm no less or more aimless or lost now. My loyalties is to what I love, what I believe in, and what I fight for. In short, it's to no one but my own self.


Tuesday, June 03, 2008

For The Sake of A Dream

A video I found on Youtube - courtesy to kucing tompok.

As one commentator puts it, it's willing to spend its whole life to live his dream once.

Profound and poignant.

I believe all of you readers will 'get' the story in the animation =)


Monday, June 02, 2008

A Challenge?

SS : ure writing as first in ure a muslim girl la kan


AA : adeh

SS : then?

SS : i confused

AA : it's a malay muslim guy daa.. Salehan is a malay guy name

AA : it's not a lesbian story!

SS : lol

SS : i was hoping it was

SS : i think u should write that

SS : one day

AA : (if i do, i'll get a bad reputation)

SS : write a story of self struggle

SS : cos honestly i think u have the flair for it

SS : i usually analyse my essays on identity

SS : but i cant write a story abt it

SS : haih

AA : i can do it when i'm famous

AA : but truth is, an aspiring writer

AA : as in many other professions, have to adhere to norm

AA : kena go with the flow dulu, gain a good name and reputation, then ppl would be more receptive and less prone to condemn, however controversial one's work is

SS : write it anonymously la

SS : a muslim iran or something

SS : that would be freaking awesome la seriously

SS : how she deals as a woman, lesbian, feminist, yet still on some level feeling guilty, doubtful of her own identity

SS : ok..but make sure u write that one day!!

SS : ill be the first to buy

SS : besok if i have money ill fund ur book if u write abt that

AA : haha baiklah baiklah

SS : allright dah habis

AA : ok

SS : i think its good..

SS : but i have a feeling u could go further?

SS : hehe

SS : when i read it it read like the contemporary malay literature mase zaman sekolah

SS : as in...the monologues..

SS : were a do i put it..

AA : ceramah-y

AA : ?

AA : haha

SS : i wouldve thought the monologues should be even more complex la

SS : seems a bit simple and reduced..

AA : i have to limit the length

AA : 12 pages double-spacing is actually the general max

AA : the quickest way to put things would be by simply blurting them out like that

SS : yeah...i guess so

AA : (comment noted, hehe)