This post has nothing to do with Pensacola, or Pensacola Beach where I was 20 years ago. I was just looking for words that start with ‘pen’ to describe what I spent a good three hours on tonight. After 40 years of being a fountain pen user, today I learned how to clean them nibs, from my seventeen-year-old son. We are big fans of LAMY!
And as I was thinking to use Pensacola as the title of this post, I realized how I was disekolahkan perihal pens. Pen sekolah. Just when I thought I knew what to do and I was going to do it my way… here I was, on the receiving end of knowledge and guidance from a boy who has only been using fountain pens for five years. I had my TIL moment today.
Other than that, I am back into writing. Both blogging and hand-writing. The few hours last Sunday that I voluntarily surrendered myself to be kept captive at Stickerrific did awaken this old soul inside of me somewhere, to be someone, somehow. Maybe writing is my calling. The next something I should get are the reading glasses. I need them for writing.
Funny how we compartmentalize our heart and put people in each one (compartment) according to the way we love them. Or the way they love us. Either or. I don’t know how many compartments my heart has. I don’t count. But there are certain people, not many of them though, who almost always make me cry when I think of them.
These are the people I kinda shouldn’t love, the people I don’t know why I love, but I love anyway. And in fact, I love them harder than some people I should. There is no explanation for that. Just like there isn’t any logic for compartmentalizing my heart. I just do because I just am. Like that. Questa è Enida.
And just so you know if you too have a compartmentalized heart, the crying comes from loving them hard. Nothing else. We know they are always there. They know they’re always there. Wherever there is. So when one says, “You, I’ll love on a plane where you know how to find me.” you know you are loved. You know, if that is not love, nothing else is.
Lama saya tak makan hati. Bukan tak ada hati, tapi jadi tawar hati sebab dua tiga kali yang terakhir saya membeli, banyak hati yang tak bersih. Termasuklah semalam. Hati yang sampai masih ada hempedu nya. Mempedal yang saya terima terlalu banyak lemaknya.
Saya berkecil hati.
Sudahnya saya buang saja semua mempedal, jantung dan limpa kerana tak sanggup nak membelah mempedal untuk membuang tahi, membelah jantung untuk membuang darah beku. Limpa pula cuma ada satu. Lupakan saja! Saya bersihkan hati dari segala kehijauan hempedu, ketulan darah beku, lemak-lemak yang menempel. Lalu saya garam-kunyit dan serbuk ketumbarkan dia dan goreng sesuka hati saya.
Mempedal yang bertahi mengingatkan saya… Sekitar penghujung tahun 70an, my parents tried rearing a couple of chicken. It was most likely 1977 — I remember the year because I was still the youngest child then. Tapi bila tiba-tiba we had an unexpected guest, somebody high-up in the Cekak Harimau association who was coming for lunch, my parents had to sacrifice their chicken. Seemed to me it was the first time my mother had to clean chicken she reared herself. She cried, threw up and obviously was not happy.
I can’t recall apa yang mak saya masak untuk hidangan makan siang menjamu tetamu kami hujung minggu itu. Saya cuma ingat, mak saya tak sentuh langsung masakannya sendiri. She made us (my Irish twin sister, Mas and I) watch how she siang the ayam. She specifically dissected the mempedal to memburaikan tahi dan segala isi di dalamnya. The chicken’s throats were still full of jagung, she cleaned that too. Her face was red and wet with tears and sweat. She gagged and muntah a few times, but the chicken dishes were ready in no time.
While our guest, I had no idea what his name was, makan dengan sangatlah berselera nya, mak saya sambung konon sibuk di dapur rumah kecil kami di Kampung Jana Baru itu memotong semangka. She didn’t eat anything at all. Selepas makan dan basuh tangan, since we didn’t have any serviette or tissue back then, our guest showed me how he dried his hands pahlawan style! Itu saya ingat sampai sekarang. I do it almost every time saya makan di restoran yang tak menyediakan tisu berdekatan dengan tempat cuci tangan. Pahlawan sangat!
My parents never reared any more chicken after that foodful day. I never saw any mempedal (gizzard) full of tahi again until yesterday. Looking back, I am not sure if my mom actually sedih having to cook ayam yang dibela sendiri or she genuinely geli having to gut the gizzards. She let everyone makan ayam puas-puas that day. Us kids especially. Di tahun-tahun 70an dulu, ayam adalah lauk orang kaya. It was a meal to brag about! I heard that the Cekak Harimau guy was a rich man, so my parents must have been segan kalau hidang lauk ikan sepat masin atau telur masak kicap saja.
We did not have any chicken meal for quite a while after that special lunch. But less than a year later, ada telur baru menetas in our family. My Irish twin sister and I got ourselves a little sister.
My mind went running on several different paths petang semalam. On one path, the direction was towards jangan berkecil hati dengan seseorang who was talking to me like there was no tomorrow one night, and the next day was being like the coldest Siberian winter towards me. My thought wandered for a few miles if I had said something unforgivably wrong, terribly offensive or hurtfully inappropriate. Tapi rasanya tak. We had a good conversation that ended well. With Mimpi Maniswishes and all. Dah lama tak ada that kind of reasonably fun conversation.
On a parallel path, I was telling myself supaya tak payah nak merasa sangat lah. Kita masing-masing dah tua. Kalau tersinggung, let it be known to the person yang menyinggung. Tell it as it is. Be done with it. Daripada going cold on me like I didn’t matter, sangat unnecessary. Tak baik tau. For a good parallel few miles, I did set an intention to act back even colder. I should have just disappeared. But then the expression “Apa pulak?” kept bonking violently on my head. Ah! Buang masa lah.
And then again, perpendicular to the paths I was running back and forth on, I thought — as I was peeling Pisang Berangan yang baru sampai from Panda Mart — manusia are like bananas. Ada macam-macam jenis, rupa, rasa, attributes and attitudes. Terimalah hakikatnya, Enida. On another note, pisang yang paling sedap to me is Pisang Berangan of course. Not as big as those commercial Cavendish that I often terbeli yang muda lagi kelat. Not too small like those Pisang Emas either. Nak bawa belayar pun buat penat peeling aja.
What pisang I layan is really up to me. I don’t mind pisang berbuah dua tiga empat lima enam kali. My dad recently gave me an extremely sharp parang to trim pelepah pisang tua off of his pohon pisang in his kebun. I had so much fun mencantas dan menebas. All fell to the ground in just one libas each and every time!
Other than Thai Moment (which I’d like to think was meant to be Moment Thai: read mo man tai in Cantonese) in Setapak, this is the first seller on Grab Food that has given us a heart-warming personal touch for our purchase.
This subway sandwich is from Subway Brem Mall, Jinjang. Wait a minute! I just Googled Brem Mall and the findings say it is in Kepong! I didn’t realize we are so close to Kepong. Brem Mall is only 4.2km away from us. Huh! I sure learned something new today.
Anyway, I was just going to say that I am so easy to please that this little heart shaped note impressed me immensely. An Italian BMT is an Italian BMT. Pretty standard, I’d say. But it’s the We always try to do best! note that made my day.
Questa è Enida 