Practice Makes Perfect.

The human being is generally imperfect. It’s a fact that all of us have to accept.

People say that I’m talented literally. I can also draw and sketch, though obviously not the ‘Van-Gogh’y way. A little bit more practice and free time might do the job.

Despite that, I’m pretty bad at a lot of things. But one thing I’ve always been worst at, is sports. Hence, I wish that I can be athletically talented. It would be spectacular to be representing the country for the Olympics or something. It would be one of the greatest achievements in the world.

I used to suffer from asthma whereby I couldn’t do sports. I couldn’t run and heave heavy things, despite the fact that my school bag weighed tonnes back in school. Back then, I was a pretty smart student who’ve always excelled at studies and was always on top of the class. Unfortunately, I’m too weak to be at least good at sports.

Surprisingly and funnily, my crush back then was a school athlete. He was the school sprinter. He could smile and all of us girls would swoon. His eyes would sparkle like the lights from a thousand fireflies. He could just stand there, doing nothing in utter perfection while our hearts melt like how the ice-cream would under the hot, scorching sun. Oh, those boyish charm and our naive hearts.

I remembered sharpening my pencil together with him at the corridor, in silence. That was one of the happiest times all throughout my primary school years. We actually never had a conversation with each other, despite our class being just beside each others’.

In order to catch his attention, I thought that all I had to do was to be good at sports. We had this school annual marathon thingy or what we called ‘merentas desa‘ which spanned  around 10++ km, starting from the school all the way back. The first 20 students who reached the school compound would get a medal. And my mind went ‘I gotta be among the 20 people and he might just see me, not as the nerdy girl but as someone on his level’.

In case you’re reading this now, and you’re as young as myself back then, here’s something you should remember. Kids, the Universe is never that kind. Yeah, they might fight for two beautiful souls to be together or you can insert whatever poetic phrases here about soulmates etc but true story, they almost always never happen. *glass shatters* *atomic bomb explodes*

So yeah, I never got to be among the 20. The worst part of the whole story was that I almost did. To be honest, it was one of the most life-shattering ‘almosts’ in my entire life. I ran like crazy, or you could say, with the power of love, surpassing most of the girls. However, my asthma decided to kick in and threw it all down the drain in the form of vomit, with a span of just a teeny-tiny couple of metres from the school compound. All I could do was watch as kids ran pass me and I’ve never felt as defeated as I was back then. Heck, those feelings were even worse than when I got myself kicked out of school at 15.

Yeah, I’ve been through some shit.

Anyways, I finished the marathon. And I had the biggest and brightest realization that, I wont ever be good at athletics. And it’s okay.

Because I’m not supposed to be perfect at everything. We all have our strength and weaknesses. Sports are just not my forte. And he’s just a boy.

P/s: Dear crush, thank you for being one of my many motivations. I have no idea where you are but I pray that you’re doing amazing now and always.

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I am a rock.

I basically just rely on myself, like 80% of the time.

Another 20%, I’d seek help from my family and closest friends.

That being said, if I seek help from you, you must be pretty damn special.

Growing up whilst having only a teeny-tiny number of closest friends (whom I met with only once in a blue moon), I’m used to being alone. Always by myself, with the comfort of my own company, I’d have my daily meals and walk to class while having an argument about a thought in my head. Or I’d just plug in my earphones and blast the music away. I only join in for meals with, let’s say, classmates, every once in a while or whenever we had a short break in between classes. As for shopping, I’d enjoy my time alone at the bookstore, or with my family when I’m in need of new clothes or a fresh pair of shoes. I almost always went to the movies, alone.

Hence, I’m used to depend on myself in terms of completing assignments or studying for examinations. Whenever it’s a group assignment, I’d give my 100% and when opportunity revealed itself, I’d try to as close as perfect my teammates’ works so that the end product can at least be almost exemplary. I hardly joined in the study group at the library back then, not that I didnt like to share knowledge, but more to saving up the time I might have loss for gossiping and actually spending it to study. Yeah, what a nerd.

I dont like to be judged. Nobody does. Hence, I shop only with my family because I can accept the judgement of the people who have actually known me for years as opposed to the people who judged me as if they’ve known me for forever. As for book-shopping, no one can stand the hours I spend at the bookstore. No one. I’d rather watch movies alone, just to take it all in easily, without anyone interfering to guess whats gonna happen next or how hot the actors are. However if it’s a movie I’m watching for the 2nd time, I’d have no problem watching it with others.

Back when I was still studying, whenever I felt like I did badly in exams, the first person I’d call was my parents. This is due to my belief that a parent’s prayers are unbeatable and well, ‘makbul‘. I’ve had this habit that whenever I find myself in trouble or in dire need of something, I’d ask for my parents’ blessings and prayers. Try it, inshaaAllah, everything will be eased.

To say that I’m independent would be exaggerating and a little bit of an overstatement. That’s because, everything that I’ve achieved so far, I owe them to my parents and family. I’m literally zero without their support and guidance. It’s their upbringing that made me who I am today. It’s the habits and gestures that I bring with me everywhere I go.

So, I might rely on myself for an incomplete 80%.

But truthfully, without the 20%, there wont be any 80%, let alone 100%.

Rolling stone.

I’m someone that hates changes. Okay, maybe the word ‘hate’ is a little too strong. Let’s rephrase that.

I’m someone who doesn’t fancy changes.

Hence, I live a pretty boring and monotonous life.

Personally, routine activities are a convenience for me. I feel somewhat ‘safe’ and comfortable doing the same thing and I can stay in particular places for a long and maybe unhealthy amount of time, I suppose. Getting to know people consumes a lot of time on my part due to my socially-awkward character, so I guess it’s okay after all to stay longer while making friends and acquaintances.

But deep in my heart, I wish to live a nomadic life. A life that requires me to travel a lot, from one place to another, which is contradictory to my nature of being. The idea of being able to live at multiple places throughout my life, excites me for just thinking about it. However, it also scares me a little.

I suppose people who live a nomadic life, survive through freelance jobs. Living requires money and without a job it might be hard to survive in the real world. For me, if I were to live a nomadic life, I’d be a writer or an artist (once I’ve perfected my portrait-drawing skills) or a translator (once I’ve perfected my language skills). Or any profession that does not require permanent residency.

Where I’m gonna live? I’ve written in one of my posts before, about how I yearn to live in a loft/anywhere with magnificent views of sunsets and sunrises. Tiny apartments in big cities, small cottages in the countryside, you name it. I’m up. I love the idea of me being that adventurous.

Living life without a ‘home base’ sounds pretty intimidating, but that’s what being a nomad means. Where would I call ‘home’? Am I ever gonna be ‘homesick’ if I have no home? What would I miss more, the food, the faces or the smell of the air I breathe? I guess, home will be wherever my heart is. And that means everywhere I’ve been to.

Experiences are one of the things that I value most in life. Like respect, it is to be gained. It is up to our choices for each and every experience that we go through. We seek it like we seek truth. Because somehow the truth reveals with experience. And life is a supreme platform for gaining experiences.

Maybe I’ll never get to live a nomadic life, maybe I will. Whatever happens, I’m here. Living life, breathing, eating, overthinking and stepping forward. I’ll take it all in, rolling or not rolling.

Here’s to better adaptability in the future. Here’s to more change.

CR: Perfume by Patrick Suskind, pg. 99/263.

Moment of kindness.

As a Muslim, I believe in kifarah. Kifarah is basically an Islamic term for karma. ‘What goes around comes around’. The good deeds that you do are the start of a cycle and a chain reaction that affect mankind, inadvertently. You may not experience the reward instantly, but eventually.

I’m gonna tell about a random moment of kindness that I’ve just experienced sometime around last month (or maybe last two months). I’m currently residing in an over-packed high-residential area where parking spots have always been the greatest hassle. It was always packed, and my last and most convenient resort is to double-park (no worries, I put my gear on neutral and have the handbrake down). I’ve always and still go out to work pretty early, way earlier than I should have, because I’m a nerd who live by the rules and routines (orz). Anyways, it’s almost never a problem for me when I double-park as I go out earlier than most people, so all I gotta do is start the engine and go.

However, that one fine day, my car was stucked in between 2 other cars (which was also double-parked) which was usually fine, but this time they were a little too closely parked to mine, bumper against bumperAnd there was no way I could move my car except to push those 2 cars to a certain distance where I can make my way out. Given that those 2 cars were Kancil or Myvi or anything of that sort, I might be able to push with some effort. Unfortunately for me, they were sedans.

And shamefully, my ‘kudrat’/ strength as a girl (who have maybe about 20% body muscle) is not that strong to push 2 sedans out of the way. *facepalm*

Anyways, an uncle who was, I guess, rushing to work as well and was just pushing some cars which was double-parked in front of his, saw me. And he was just shaking his head and gave a faint smile (macam nak cakap ‘haihh kesian’ & ‘gerenti kau tak boleh tolak’) and went straight into his car to warm the engine. But somehow, maybe after witnessing my failure and how the 2 sedans did not even budged when I tried pushing, he rushed out of his car, and came to my rescue.

He was all like, ‘you pergi start engine‘ and started pushing those 2 sedans out of the way, which only took him seconds. *lol* I thanked him repeatedly, and could not have imagined if nobody was there to help, I might be late to work. Or simply call for Uber/Grab. Thank God for that uncle. I dont know who he was (although I do recognize his car), but I prayed that whatever his business, it will be eased just like he eased my way to work.

On the other hand, this reminds me that I really need to work on my muscles.

CR: Perfume by Patrick Suskind.

Earworm.

I’ve had this thing when songs or music somehow define my feelings when I was at certain places. Something like a nostalgic flashback of when I was there, on what I was doing.

I’d associate the songs I was listening to on my way to any respective places and mark it as a memory. So that the next time I listened to that particular song, my mind will definitely wander back to that associated place.

It’s been more than a month since my trip to Bali. And as much as it ridicules me to admit this, I’m actually missing the place. The trip was not exactly amazing due to a couple of reasons, one of them including myself being reprimanded at Bali Airport on arrival for being a first-timer there. *roll-eyes*

Anyways, I’ve had a stressful month at work and that trip was kinda like a reward to myself, some sort of a short getaway. And I’m not even kidding about it being short. What would you expect from a 3-day trip to Bali? Well I can now say, not much. But still, I got to calm my ass down for those 3 days and let go of commitments at the office.

And I can now demand another place for honeymoon from my future husband because dude I’ve been to Bali.

I remembered taking a half-day leave from work to catch the flight to Bali. Took the ERL from TBS all the way to KLIA2. And that’s when I heard this particular song, a song that has been stucked in my head till now. A song I didn’t know it’s title until one day it randomly pops up while I was listening to some ‘Chill Hits’ on Spotify.

It was Zedd’s ft Alessia Cara, Stay.

They had that song at the mini TV? (idk what it’s supposed to be called) in the ERL. It was on loop and that was my first time listening to it. Did not gave it much thought.

But now, whenever I missed Bali, this song would just pops up in my head. And I’d miss Bali even more. Damn, the power of music.

Anyways, I guess I just missed being able to escape the stress and bullshit at work. How do people go through their life doing similar routine activities? I had to constantly tell myself that I have something to look forward to at the end of every week (that is not related to work), just so I can calm myself down. Just so I can feel like I actually have a life and I’m not a workaholic. Just so that I can keep myself, well, sane.

Life is indeed a tough crowd.

CR: A Clockwork Orange,by Anthony Burgess, pg. Introduction.

Playlist of the week.

My week has been pretty boring and monotonous. Work has been slow and a wee bit relaxing after 2 weeks of rushing for tender. That’s definitely a relief on my part.

However as someone who listens to music pretty much on a daily basis regardless of my mood (an activity I’m not entirely proud of doing), I guess I’m just going to share the songs/music I’ve been shoving into my ears for this particular week.

Playlist of The Week

Enjoy and hope you guys find some good new music from it (though I highly doubt that).

CR: The Trial by Franz Kafka, pg 53/182.

All grown up.

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As I’m writing this, my mind keeps on recalling the lyrics of Taylor Swift’s Never Grow Up, a song I used to constantly sing back when I was 17 years old. Back when I was literally living a hell of a lifeback when I pushed myself through different types of crap shuffling in between getting myself kicked out of school, being a failure, being in denial of being a failure and questioning myself daily and excessively on which definition of a human being I was supposed to be.

God bless that golden age.

Growing up is a matter of perspective. Same goes for being childish. Each and every grown up should have a little child in them.

No, allow me to re-phrase that.

Each and every grown up should have, if not much, at least one thing, that brings out the child in them.

Search for it within yourself and give it a name. Does not matter if it’s an ice-cream, a balloon, video games, fairy tales, cartoons, old cards, a cup of hot Milo in the morning, a glass of milk at night, an old sketching from an early childhood, a photograph from your first trip to the pool, that report card from school that used to give you nags or rewards, the first storybook, that shy gorgeous boyish smile that seemed to hold the secrets of the Universe from your first love back in Primary 3, your first pet, that first Kad Raya you used to exchange with friends from class and a teeny-tiny 10sen attached in between the folds.

All those good times, sweet memories, layback moments, shrilling shouts, girly giggles before commitments and responsibilities came crashing in.

So, when was the first time I felt like a grown up?

I cannot answer that, not definitely.

Maybe on September last year when I first had a go at this ‘seems bloody exciting at first but not so much after a while‘ thing called work. Maybe for the past 2 weeks I spent without any weekends, concentrating on a seemingly endless task at the office. Maybe when I no longer have that privilege called time to catch up on TV series and Korean dramas, video games and even books. Maybe I pulled the panic cord maybe you were happy I was bored maybe I wanted you to change maybe I’m the one to blame (see what I did there).

Maybe when I started thinking in silent and out loud, about the future.

THE FUTURE.

That endless, long winding list of the what ifs and the it would be great ifs.

Let’s just cut this morbid crap and admit that I am in denial of growing up and growing old. I think everyone is. At some points in your life, you just wished that time would stop and you would stay that way forever. Stay at the age where heartbreaks, sadness, stress and discrimination have not even existed yet in your dictionary of life.

But then again, one of the many things that always reminds to never forgetting being a child is Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. The book have taught me sooo much about the feelings I’ve forgotten as I grew up to be who I am today. That child-like curiosity about almost everything and how a child will never let anything stand in his way of achieving what he wants even if he understands nothing. And to put his heart in everything, because:

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And for that, he’ll make a wonderful grown up.

CR: The Trial by Franz Kafka, pg 53/182.