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Archive for the ‘Sense’ Category

Unbecoming Enida

Posted in Sense, tagged on December 8, 2009| 1 Comment »

If I could find a picture to manifest the way I feel right now, I would. It would be easier. But I don’t feel like looking for a picture now. No. Not this morning. If I could say it in words, I would type a thousand words more, I assure you I would do that too. But isn’t that what I have been doing?

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It doesn’t get any easier if you choose to read my words with your thoughts, giving them your meanings. Dare you call me a liar when all I write is about myself? Who do you think you are to tell me how to be Enida? Come then… become me for a day. And write the way I write my thoughts, with the words I see my truth through.

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If you are reading this, chances are this is not about you. Please don’t flatter yourself. For those who are reading, those who are reading between the lines, and those who aren’t reading… I am just going to copy and paste what my KaCher wrote on her profile about her writing and her needs to write.

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“I write because I want to, because I feel good doing it, because I can. It doesn’t matter what I write, truth or lies, they all come from a place you wouldn’t know. So if you ever feel at any time that you understand me, save it. You don’t.”

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I repeat:

“… It doesn’t matter what I write, truth or lies, they all come from a place you wouldn’t know.”

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Peace to the world, haaiihhh! 🙂

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Curiosity Cures

Posted in Sense, tagged on December 7, 2009| Leave a Comment »

I do not expect one to know everything. I don’t. And as I am very open to learning a little bit of something everyday, I take one day at a time. But not knowing where Moscow is when one is almost 40 however, is very sad for me to digest. Not knowing to Google for it and believing that it is 120km south of Timbuktu, Mali, Africa… is sadder, if not sadistic!

 

Today I just learned that the best and most natural facial scrub is sugar. Just mix a tablespoon of sugar granules to your regular facial cleanser. Wash your face like usual every night with it for a week. It is good to cure dry skin.

 

 

I have yet to learn how to cure dry brain.

 

 

 

Postlude:
Uh, I know for sure what shower caps can keep dry other than hair. Bah!

 

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Nevermindland

Posted in Sense, tagged on December 7, 2009| 7 Comments »

I saw an old old friend on the internet the other day and had a bit of a catching up chat. She didn’t sound like she was all that new to the internet. Well at the very least she knew what Facebook, YM and Google were about.

 

She asked about my present whereabouts. And when I said ‘Moscow’, she responded with, “Kat mana tu?” Huh? I thought she was trying to be funny. So I said, “Oh Moscow is in Mali, just 120km south of Timbuktu.”

 

It was when she went on to ask, “Mali kat mana ye? Bunyi familiar je.” I honestly thought she was joking. So I gave her a matter-of-fact answer ‘Africa’. “Oh so ngko kat Africa lah pulak sekarang ni ye?” Oiiii!

 

“No lah, I am in Moscow.” I repeated myself to see if she was actually a classic case of listening-with-her-knee-cap or was another shower-cap-woman case. “Tadi ngko cakap ngko kat Moscow, Moscow kat Mali. Dah tu, kat Africa lah tu.”

 

“Isssyyy… ngko ni bior benor. Ke ko buat lawak Geography dengan aku ni? Aku kat Moscow. Pernah dengar tak Moscow?”

 

“Tak sure lah. Tu lah ngko! Tak reti duduk satu tempat. Pegi pulak tempat orang tak pernah dengor saper suruh?”

 

I was flabbergasted, lumpygutted and goonyjuted all at once! It was then that I thought of making a lawak Geography to her, “Sebenornye aku kat Chaah je.”

 

“Chaah? Kat mana tu?”

 

Suddenly we got disconnected!

 

Oopsie daisy! Never mind.

 

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Hot Tall Vanilla Latte, Please!

Posted in Hurt, Sense, tagged , on November 25, 2009| Leave a Comment »

If I  were to flirt with  the idea of flirting with him, I would first thank MokcikNab for the pantuns and the beautiful translation. Well, not that he can’t read bahasa. He is probably the only man with steel eyes in the whole wide world that can say, “Maaf, bahasa saya tak berapa bagus,” in perfect bahasa. And it was both his eyes and his tak-berapa-bagus bahasa that actually changed my tea heart to coffee!

 

But I am not going to. Flirt with the idea of flirting with him, that is. I don’t do the flirting thing anymore. Not since the year 1999, at least. With the knowledge I have about myself, breaking a heart is too heart-breaking for me to do. Afterall, even my heart is in its work-in-progress mode. But someday, he needs to know that there is a book written from the strength that the images of him had given me. Someday, he will have a page dedicated to his green sofas and his orange cat. And oh his hanging owls too! 🙂 But that someday is not today.

 

And then, if I were to seriously flirt with the idea of flirting with him… I would send him these pantuns:

 

Dari mana punai melayang
Dari sawah turun ke kali
Dari mana datangnya sayang
Dari mata turun ke hati

From whence flies the dove
From the fields and down the brook
From whence flows the love
To the heart from just one look

 

Dari mana hendak ke mana
Tinggi rumput dari padi
Tahun mana bulan mana
Hendak kita berjumpa lagi

Tell me where you go from here
The grass grows taller than the padi grain
Tell me the month, tell me the year
When you and I shall meet again

From: MokcikNab

 

But then, these were just thoughts I flirted with back then. The thoughts that got me through the nights of counting beads of tears. The thoughts that got me through the days of counting beads of prayers. For Mom, for me and for me Monchies. The thoughts that were wordless then as they all went into healing my heart. I am still one good work in progress. Wish me love and luck, that with my tak-berapa-bagus bahasa, I will have a book of heartful words.

 

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Read Roses Written Blues

Posted in Sense, tagged , , on November 25, 2009| Leave a Comment »

 

I ended up with my own Roses Are Red poem because I could not quite agree with its ‘Violets are blue’ logic. Violets, to me, are not really that blue. They are reddish blue, perhaps. But not blue blue. Or true blue. Blue and red equally. Purple perfectly. And of course purple is a mix of red and blue. Violets are logically, literally, and therefore should be literature-ly purple. Not blue. I stood to have been corrected by myself, thank you very much. And now I stand to be corrected by anyone who dares to correct me with a better correctness than mine.

 

This is my blog, lest you forget.

 

I began changing it by first mental-scanning for a word that rhymes with sweet. It would have been nice to keep some of the poem’s original sense. And then I recalled Kitreena’s artwork today of a hummingbird. She spelled bird as b.r.d.e. Hmmm… oookayyy, let’s tweet the birdie shall we? And then I found this fancy post-it with a bird. Call it karma or sutra, I must have been a bird in my past life. And so I saw the blue skies. Blue violets can be on somebody else’s notes then. Haven’t got the blues for ya, violets!

 

‘Sugar is sweet.’ Sugar? That is such a processed sweetness. Can’t we have something a little bit more natural here? Like honey! I honestly think it goes better with birds, skies and all. Honey from bees, bees and birds fly, and they like clear blue skies as well. Plus, I don’t wanna be thinking of that sugar refinery in Felda Mukim Chuping or of a packet of Gula Prai when I get to the ‘Sugar is sweet, and so are you’ part in the poem!

 

Well, as you can see… I went through quite a bit of a thought-process for such a simple note for Kitreena. And oh yes, she is on the second rerun of her spaghetti boxed lunch from home. I made Spaghetti Carbonara but with some fresh chopped tomatoes and pickled artichokes the other day. Mama mia! Tanto gusto. Tutto belissimo. Abiss ito. Massu tido. Mmmuuuaaahhh! Buona notte, mia colibri!

 

 

Original version:

Roses are red,
violets are blue.
Sugar is sweet,
and so are you.

 

 

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Judging Enida

Posted in Sense, tagged , on November 19, 2009| Leave a Comment »

Justifying to my best friend why I chose to bare my life and its personal details in my writing… I said, “So that people who enjoy talking about me will have an easy access to a reference, Cik Nan. If they have any doubt about a ‘story’, they can always refer to my blog and be anchored by my truth, my version. They can create and have their own addition to their edition. But my truth matters to me. I am, afterall, a reliable source for my stories.”

 

I have grown wise enough to not deny the fact that people talk. About me, and behind me. Not many will care enough to talk to me about me. People don’t only talk. They judge too. And that is perfectly human. I am not worried. For all I know, I have done that too, against my preference, principle and consent. As none of us is an island, we keep rubbing against each other for lessons, for comfort, for entertainment and sometimes for a challenge!

 

So if you caught yourself talking about me, do know that I know you’re talking about me. Whichever version, yours or mine, is fine by me. Just make sure the other person you are talking to knows that Enida’s Version is available on Questa e Enida before anybody starts judging a me.

 

 

 

 

Postlude:

I just learned a new word today:
gavel = a judge’s hammer

 

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Do It, Men!

Posted in Sense, Write On, tagged , on November 4, 2009| 6 Comments »

To men out there who are man enough to read this, excuse my frankness. When it comes to money, there are two kinds you fall into. One: those who do have money and arrogantly flaunt it. Two: those who do not have money and shamelessly flaunt it. And both kinds are the pathetic kinds. The rest of you men… you don’t fall into any kind. And you are safe from my frankness – for now.

 

I mean, really! We all know that you can’t be having money all the time. When you do, and lots of it, that’s great. Good for you! But do you really have to unnecessarily show it, blogging about it, posting a scanned copy of receipts of your purchase as though the whole world has to know that your feet alone are wrapped in a pair of RM2557.65 worth shoes. Do you?

 

But man! That is still not as bad as announcing it to the world that you are broke. So broke that you could almost sell the Fung Keong canvas shoes your kindhearted Aunty Anne George bought you after your STP exam. And that is only so that you could buy a pack of GardeniaIn his back pocket! corn bun? Eeesssyyy walang hiya! That, I am so lah not sorry at all to say, patheticity at its worst! And then you’re complaining your girlfriend left you for a bloke who works at Burger King and drives a secondhand Citroen he paid RM14k for in cash!

 

Much of the pain is… indeed, self-chosen. But as painful as being broke can be, have some pride, will ya?

 

Still, a respectable man is not one who has the most or the least money. He is the one who respects his money and treats it like it is his secret lover. Go figure!

 

 

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Sore Sorry

Posted in Mom, Sense on October 22, 2009| 2 Comments »

Let’s admit it. The English language does not teach us the best expression to give or say when hearing bad news such as deaths, divorces, injuries, accidents, and yeah please feel free to lengthen the list. SORRY is probably the most versatile one-size-fits-all word that most people use and over-use much more often than we should. Really.

I don’t blame you when you said, “Sorry to hear about your Mom’s passing, Enida.” In fact, I would’ve said the same thing to you. Or to Enida. I have said the same thing to many friends on their Mom’s, Dad’s, sibling’s, cat’s, and iguana’s passing. The thing is, I have a bigger expression problem. How do I react to that “Sorry”?

Do I say:

  • “Ah, it’s okay.”
  • “Thank you.”
  • “Don’t be sorry.”

Or do I keep on doing what I have been doing. Joking about the expression:

  • “Sorry? What are you sorry for? Did you do anything I shouldn’t know?”
  • “Aaah that’s okay. There was nothing you could’ve done to save her anyway.”
  • “Don’t be sorry. Of all the people, I should be sorry. I was there and I didn’t do anything.”

Oh yeah, I am harsh. Kasar bunyinya, isn’t it? But I mean, really… I kinda know how to react to condolences. I say thank you. But when people say sorry to hear that my Mom has passed away, the two languages I speak have failed me of appropriate and meaningful responses.

First of all, if your Mom passes away… I don’t think ‘sorry’ is how I really feel. I am probably able to feel your sorrow because I am now feeling it.  Since my Mom returned to her beloved Creator 15 days ago, I think I can relate very well. Unfortunately, “Sorry” – sorry to say – is not sorrow.

I am known, therefore, to have said it all by hugs, or the touch of my hand, and the “Awwww…” expression on my face. I believe these actions would say it better than any words. Sorry included.

Secondly, I wouldn’t say sorry just because that’s what our father did, and his father before him, and his father’s father before him did. Can’t we evolve the language’s forms and functions a little bit here? Hello, the year is 2009! Does sorry seem to be the hardest word still?

When I am not there to hug, touch and make faces, I am known to plagiarize quote sayings in greeting cards for condolences. Worse comes to worst wordwise, I would just say, “God knows best, luv.”  I am also known to usually say nothing at all. People can think I don’t care that their Moms, Dads, siblings, cats and iguanas have passed on. But I am better off saying nothing than saying sore sorries that I don’t mean or don’t know the meaning of, am I not?

Now now, don’t you go berkecil hati with me turning your face away now thinking that I am judging you by what you said! You meant well when you said, “I am sorry to hear about your Mom’s passing, Enida.” I know you. I know you well.

Of all that I am sorry for, I am sorry that our language is not equipped with, and thus, does not let us say how we truly feel. It’s not your fault that English is not a perfect language. You didn’t invent it. Neither did you invent Bahasa Malaysia. No, you’re not that great old.

I know you are not sorry that my Mom is in a better place. I’m not. I am only sorry that she won’t get to see me turning 60 and counting my black hairs. Yes, I am going to be a Flat White by the time I’m 40. A latte gal that I am. I am only sorry that Mom won’t be there to see my first farmhouse on the Prairie land just like the one she used to see on the Little House on The Prairie show. I was her brown Melissa Gilbert back then.

I know you’re not sorry that my Mom is closer to God in heaven now and watching over me with a smile. Kitreena is ever so envious that Grandma now has wings and has been granted her wishes to fly. I am only sorry that I would have no ‘reference point’ to get back at my daughter. 🙂 Mom used to tell Kitreena stories about me when I was Kitreena’s age. My stories have ended at six and a half. Mom took the stories with her. Along with many many many other stories.

That… I am sorry for.

Bay-watching and be watched by an angel with wings.

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The 11th Hour

Posted in Sense, tagged on October 4, 2009| 5 Comments »

After a week between Jelai, Kenanga and 443, I decided to look for some kemesraan at our Mesra home on Jalan Duta. So me Monchies and me were within the city limit around 1530 Sunday afternoon leaving Mom in trusting hands of my two littlest brothers. Instead of heading straight to our Mesra, I took the Monchies out for a treat (a break from my cooking, really) at Meatworks and later for grocery stock-up at the Solaris CS. 

 

It was pretty nice to be in the Mesra embrace again after two months, I must say. The only embrace missing was Be’s.

 

But shortly after sundown my how’s-mom-doing standard sms was replied with Lam’s “call-me-please”… which was very rare, if not never at all. That was enough to make my heart skip three and a half beats! Mom slipped into her unresponsiveness again!

 

It’s exactly 12 hours to the very minute between us arriving in Mesra and now. I am driving through the mountains again bringing our love and Mesra to my Mom.

 

Tabeik datuk nenek gunowang bukeik ghimber howk Lentaang ke howk  Kaghowk ke, cucu cichiet nompang lalu. Nak balik moh lah degheih awaok nte.

 

 

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To Hunt, Too

Posted in Sense, tagged on October 2, 2009| Leave a Comment »

If I believe everything I hear but not see, my Mom is not dying of cancer or liver damage. If I believe everything that science is not able to make any sense of, I would go insane just from the fear of the unknown. And that there is some kind of evil spirit hunting my Mom and choking her right on the neck killing her mercilessly while keeping her alive.

 

Faith is another funny thing I dare simpering about only in the safety of my privacy. Out of respect to those who believe and out of my tolerance to possibilities, I would say nothing but… God is the superlative great! No hunting, no hinting. No buts, ifs, maybes, commas or question marks. Full stop.

 

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