Rant on Fame.

If you ever read the ‘About’ section, you’ll notice that I also write for The Patriots. Well, occassionally (damn you writer’s block).

How did it happen?

I’ve always loved writing.

Back then, I wrote in my journal (still doing it). I wrote in my blog. I’ve slayed most of my essays in school. Although, lately my skills pretty much went down the drain, especially my Bahasa Melayu (facepalm).

I’ve personally never wrote any articles or long posts at my Facebook page. All my statuses are pretty bunk and junk stuff, like posting the songs I’m listening to or special events that had happened in my life (only the ones worth sharing). I dont really post my thoughts, like my real thoughts and opinion on certain matters, at my Facebook page. I rarely commented on likewise posts, even if I strongly disagreed with the writer. I just read through and try to entertain the thought in my mind.

That being said, on the verge of me turning 23 last year, I posted up something online, through a ‘confession’ page. I’ve wrote about this in one of my posts before. Anyways, I got overwhelming responses and it got me thinking that writing might be my greatest strength. Maybe.

And when the opportunity came up, that is when The Patriots advertised that they needed a writer, I grabbed it. Even though I knew damn well that my skills in writing Bahasa Melayu are pretty suckish. I sent an article about the film ‘Accepted’, fully written in English just to try out my luck. And, bam! I got accepted. See what I did there?

Anyways, despite the fact that most of the readers of The Patriots are history geeks, coz y’know articles on history have basically the highest viewers, likers and sharers, and I wrote on film reviews (LOL). And not even historic films at that too (LOL again). I guess I dont really care about people liking or actually reading what I wrote. I mean, look at this blog. The traffic is pretty bad, it’s only a wee bit better when I commented on Vivy Yusof’s posts (facepalm).

What has this got to do with fame?

Well, have you ever written anything and posted it up in public, and got amazing reactions (in a positive way)?

It’s somehow like when you write something, and a lot of people agree with you, you’ll want them to agree more. Just like how you want people to always like you. It’s the same thing with writing. Especially when you’re used to getting a lot of people read about your thoughts, opinions and rants.

Or to make it simple, the fame.

When you posts things up in public view, and got lot’s of shares and likes, you got fame. And it’s human nature to love being known, being loved, being in mutual understanding. When the fame hits you, you’ll write more, you’ll be braver to comment on bigger things, on more challenging issues. However, being in the limelight does not make you right. It does not make you agreeable either.

Why the sudden rant?

Do you know how dangerous fame is? It’s addictive. It’s a disease of the heart. I’ve never had one but this is merely from my observation of the people around me.

In this new era of social media, getting a lot of shares and likes are closely equivalent to getting wealth. When you got viralled for instance, it opens up to new and greater opportunities.

You might think that fame is actually a good thing. I mean, especially when it’s about helping people in need and that sort. Believe me, fame will never be a good thing. There will never be a ‘good’ kind of fame. It always ends up bad.

Like wealth, fame rots the heart. It makes you greedy for more. If you post up for instance, a perfect selfie of you and got like 10k likes, you’ll want to post more selfies. You just want more, it’ll never be enough. That’s how fame works. That’s how it rots you from within.

When you write on your opinions, thinking it’ll be forever agreeable, you’ll just end up being boastful, ignorant and a smart-ass who disregards other people’s feelings and sensitivities.

I’ve recently followed quite a number of people or what you’d call ‘public figures’ based on their amount of followers, on Facebook. As much as they’re right about certain things, I’ve realized they’re also just as wrong. Some of them were too boastful and rudely sarcastic when people disagree with what they wrote.

I mean, do you treasure the fame so much so that you’ll write anything, even if it means hurting another people’s feelings? You do know that you have hundred thousands of followers right? You do know that people will read what you write, right? So, why cant you just be kind and sensitive? Even if you disagree with what other people think, it’s always better to shut up and think about it carefully as opossed to wildly attacking back with your smart-ass remarks. Is that the kind of ‘writer’ you wanna be?

In a nutshell.

Source: Google Image


It’s a prayer that I’ve never forgotten to recite after each Sallah, meaning:

Oh Allah, I seek refuge from you from from worry and grief, from helplessness and laziness, from cowardice and stinginess, and from overpowering of debt and from oppression of men.”

And with that, I add up ‘from overpowering of wealth and fame’.

As a budding ‘writer’, I pray that I’ll write with more responsibility and compassion of what I wrote. Not for the fame, but for the good of the people who reads them.

And if my greedy  and wavering heart fails me, this post will be a reminder of what should really be.


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.

Eid Mubarak.

In case you’re a Muslim and reading this, Eid Mubarak to you! 🙂

Like usual, I ain’t posting my Raya selfie here, only took one and used it for my Whatsapp profile picture. But in case you’re wondering, here’s a peek of my baju raya.


It’s a jubah dress, which I supposedly wore during my sister’s wedding but unfortunately did not get to do so (due to an unfortunate circumstance). Ended up being altered into my baju raya this year, which looks kind of great.

Growing up and growing old, Eid have been decreasingly fun year by year. Especially since my sister and brother got married and they started taking turns balik kampung. Eid just does not feel the same anymore. Well, Eid is still Eid, but every year the good times with le fam just gets lesser and lesser. Some of them just decided to stop balik kampung, due to many reasons.

Flashback to all of us cousins being kids, playing around meddling with our Mom’s preparation of ketupats and rendangs, watching Raya TV shows (which was awesome back then) together at night, playing bunga api and just the simple act of eating together at the same table during pagi raya.

Nowadays, things just surprisingly and ridiculously gets awkward. Making jokes seems a little harder than usual and the way we catch up reflects how rigid we’ve all turned to be to each other as years passed by. Things just get so different and yet some of our habits stay similar. Funny.

Nevertheless, to be able to celebrate Eid with the family (even if it’s just 50% of them) is still considered something to be thankful for.

So this is to all of you readers, those who knew me and those who dont. Also to those who’ll never know who I really am. Salam Aidilfitri & Salam Kemenangan, maaf zahir & batin, taqaballahu minna wa minkum. Have a blessed raya with your loved ones and stay safe and sound wherever you are!


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.

CNY 2017

Yes, I celebrate CNY (Chinese New Year). Ever since I could remember.

I wont share pictures here because I did not really took any. And my phone camera quality sucks. And they’re pretty personal photos. And I dont have an Instagram account where I can share them photos. And also, I have decided to teach myself to enjoy the moments through my God-given eyes instead of pixels, while they lasts.

It was the same every year. Reunion dinner at a restaurant, berjarah to family’s houses the next day, BBQ at one of the houses at night. We had seafood for dinner on the 2nd day, which was costly (basically not that worthy) but considering we’re together, that counted as a blessing. And we’re super thankful for that.

I have 2 days of leave for CNY. 1 holiday due to Hari Wilayah. I’ll be returning to work on Thursday. More like I have to return to work on Thursday. Oh, le commitments.

Anyways, I had a meet up with a few friends from high school today. We had so much to talk about. Mostly things that are morbid. Like work, responsibilities, the future of mankind. Like how none of us rakyat marhaen are able to own a house. Like how we should not really give a shit about Donald Trump being POTUS, and instead focuses on making our country a better place to live in. Like how me and Sue apparently have similar views on marriage. Like how Azreen’s the next in line to the future of happily ever after, after Minah. Like how Wan have already found his significant other, and being real discreet about it too.

I knew these people from 2009. They’re those who accepted me when others did otherwise. They’re those who protected me when I was bullied. They’re those who consoled me and patted me in the back when I cried. They’re those who never judged me. They’re those who taught me that perfection does not exist, the only thing that does is how I choose to define myself.  They’re those who were (and hopefully will be) still willing to berjarah to my house for Eid annually. Meeting up with them made me realize that we might grow up and molded into who we are today. But our habits, at least for some of us, stayed.

After several meet ups, I’ve come to realized that I dont really have to wait for friends to initiate a meet up/gathering. I’m the one who should start the move. And each of them were all worth it in the end. I was not exactly the friendly and bubbly type, but I guess as I get older, I wanted to keep the friends that I have made in my younger days. Especially those who have taught me gazillions about life, that has made me who I am today.

I swear I’d be the better friend than I was 8 years ago. But we cannot possibly turn back time. So, I promise myself to be the best one today.

CR: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, pg 45/224.

Starting 2017.

It’s been 2 weeks since the new year started. Let’s just say that I’m quite contented with everything that’s happened so far.

A day before 2017, I managed to have dinner with an ex-schoolmate. It was a short meeting, with everything that comes to mind had to be compressed in one fast catching-up session, within an hour and a half. From ‘what is up’ to ‘questions about significant others’ to ‘how is work’ and without realizing it was 10pm and shops were closing. We were planning to celebrate 2017 by joining in the crowds at Dataran Merdeka but I was not permitted to. So, the plan had to be cancelled. Maybe next year.

My friend had to rush back to UM by bus and me back home by KTM. The trains were unusually packed and crowded with all sorts of people be it locals or foreigners. Understandable since it was on the verge of 2017. People are pouring out of their houses to spectate and join in the countdown towards a new year.

Here’s a short rant though. I knew it was almost 2017, it was around 10.30pm. But could people keep it all in and be CIVILISED by allowing the passengers to exit the trains FIRST before they stormed in like the stations on fire and they’re going to burn to hell? Honestly. I pray that this year we see less of these people who acts in such an uncivilized manner. The station’s not on fire so chill your asses out.

Anyways, I witnessed the fireworks from home. It was basically the same thing, regardless of where I’d have watched it from. Maybe the difference it probably made was who I was watching it with.

The first weekend of 2017 was spent productively, I suppose. Went to a book launch, my first experience at that too. The author was a 22 year old Malaysian guy, who ‘escaped the rat race and met Queen Elizabeth II’. I got notified about that particular book launch by Nation Building School, after registering as a member sometime around last year. Tired of feeling languid and to release the pressures from work, I decided to join in and see what it’s all about. Besides the book launch, a mini discussion on CREATING A POSITIVE IMPACT: WHAT YOUTHS CAN DO TODAY, by Calvin Woo the author himself, Paul Rennie the Deputy High Commisioner to Malaysia, Tricia Yeoh the COO of IDEAS and Danial Rahman the Press Secretary to Malaysia’s Minister of Higher Education was held.

It was a great experience and definitely an inspirational one, meeting quite a number of people who have achieved way more than I could ever imagined to. I made a new friend , A Bach. in Computer Science student from INTI College, who won 2nd Runner Up for the YSEALI Food Innovation Challenge. Listening to her speaking about what she has gone through to win the competition, the struggles and the hard works to innovate an app for fishing amazed me. She’s like pretty much the definition of ‘you can get whatever you want if you just put your heart on it’. Meanwhile, I was an inactively-morbid (is this even considered the right combination of words LOL) student who preferred caving in and ponder about life within the boundary of my comfort zone.

The discussion was an extremely beneficial one with all the good inputs on how youths nowadays can make a difference in their own life and also the future of our country, or the world even. The discussion also highlighted on finding one’s purpose in life and directing one’s energy and positivity towards achieving that particular purpose in one’s own way and methods, to not necessarily follow the norm in the process. Basically, ‘to achieve is to try and those who never tried had already failed’. And I could not have agreed more with that statement. Besides that, you do not necessarily have to wait for any medium or time to make a change. Instead, you should be the one who initiate the change.

After the book launch, I had the opportunity to have lunch with my best friend of 9 years. I gave him his belated birthday present and got mine at the same time. He wanted a keychain, so:

The one he got me, a Dragon Claw Hook keychain (Google)
The one I got him, a Talisman of Evasion keychain (Google)

Talking about Dotards. It was our first lunch together and we had a catch-up session mostly about our friends from high school and some other random topics.

The thing about meeting up with friends is that at the end of our meeting, I’ll always regret talking too much. I tend to make it all about me when I think I should have listened more on my friends’s part of the story. And the fact that I’m always so opinionated about almost everything and being vocal about them too. It made me seemed truculent and confrontational when I’m just trying to lay down the facts. Okay, now I just sounded like a smart-ass when I’m not.

Oh God, I’d make the worst date ever.

Anyways, I think that pretty much sums up the start of 2017. I’m not going to reveal my so-called resolutions and goals because apparently you tend to lose motivation to achieve when you say them out loud. Who knows.

Let’s all just strive to be better human beings this year.

CR: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, pg 11/224.


Depression: My Story.

A year ago, I suffered from depression.

It was not due to any impactful events in my life. I had not have any breakups nor did I lose someone during those period of time. It just happened. It attacked me when I least expected it.

I was still struggling to complete my Degree, half-way through. Being abnormally underweight (but not anorexic or bulimic), I did not care about eating at all. I remember just eating anything edible, anything I could scrap for nearby, for lunch and dinner (I skipped breakfast a lot), such as biscuits and junk food. Not because I was on a tight budget and most definitely not on a diet. I just didn’t felt like eating, no matter how hungry I was. I had some urges to eat, like all of a sudden I felt like eating spaghetti. But the saddest part of it was that, I could only take a small bite and I’d lose my appetite, just like that. I lose it all.

So, I ended up with an ‘epiphany’ that ‘People are gonna die anyways’. Even if I eat healthily and consistently, I am going to die, someday somehow. So, I stopped caring like it was the end of the world for me.

From the thoughts of not being able to enjoy eating, it attacked my will to study. I was constantly thinking ‘Fuck this shit, the world is temporary, nobody has the right to judge me based on my academic achievements, it all wont matter when I die’ etc. I had all these negative thoughts about life and I couldn’t be happy. I felt soul-less, like something/someone came out of nowhere, grabbed the living shit out of me and left me empty.

I attended my classes feeling unhappy and somewhat languorous. It somehow showed inadvertently with my moody face and my refusal to talk to anybody. I had a Law class where the lecturer was always saying the ‘happy’ word like, ‘That happened and everybody turned out happy’ or ‘It ended up to be nobody’s mistake, so it’s a happy ending’ etc. I was so depressed that every single ‘happy’ word she uttered was like a knife jabbing all over my body and I ended up posting a status on Facebook about how ‘the word happy loses its meaning when it’s excessively used’.

As a reserved and private person, I did not think that anyone would give a shit. It’s more like I hoped nobody cares.  I was strolling around KLCC, after a visit to Kinokuniya for a ‘mood relieving session’ which was usually effective but failed for that particular day, when a text came up on my phone from a classmate, asking if ‘everything is okay lately’ and that he and a bunch of our friends will be there if I needed anything.

I responded, typically, that I’m okay. just had not have enough sleep which explained my tired and somewhat swollen eyes. When in fact, I cried the day before, while texting one of my close friends about how ‘I could not do this anymore’. She thought I was talking about my studies and gave me some encouragements about it. I ended up not telling her the whole damn story about being depressed and stuff.

Tired of feeling miserable and pathetic, one day I decided to join a couple of friends for dinner (which I oftenly didn’t). We were just chatting away about bunk unimportant stuff when suddenly one of us made a joke and we laughed hard till our tears fell down.

And that’s the starting point for my road to healing.

I did not go for any counselling nor did I tell my parents and family about what I’ve been through. I was afraid of the judgement of my peers and the people around me, because being depressed is often related to poor spirituality/faith, which is NOT ENTIRELY true. Regardless, I kept everything to myself like I always do about most things even when I know the best way to deal with it is to tell someone I could trust, that could give me sound advice and support to carry on. But with my trust issues, there was no way I’d tell.

A year passed by like the blink of an eye, while I fight against being constantly pathetic and sad. Fighting alone was hard and challenging. What I did was force myself to think positively every single day and do things I knew would make myself at least happy, even if its for the littlest bit. I learned to watch movies by myself and treat myself to good meals once in a while. I learned to laugh by watching comedies. I learned to join my classmates for lunch and sometimes, dinner. I spent some quality time with my family. I learned to be strong when it seemed like the whole world was trying to bring me down. I learned to believe and love myself even when nobody else did. I learned to always be kind to everyone because they might be fighting a battle I know nothing about. And most importantly, I learned to put my strongest faith in the All-Mighty.

Whenever I read any depressed/suicidal post on Tumblr, I’ll try my best to give some advice in relation to my own limited experience battling with depression. It may not be much, but I make sure to make them feel better because I know what it’s like to be in their shoes. And I wish to be the person I never got to meet when I was suffering like they do.

I’m healed, maybe not completely. But I try to be by strengthening my faith and every part of my soul that are still weak. The road is indeed long and winding. I wont ever stop running to the end.