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Back At Me

I bet it is tough being a man just like you,
you claim to have life but it seems you’ve no clue.
It was pretty clear how your stories began,
but you, nor the rest, would know what’s the end.

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Let’s start with a wife who treats you more than well,
when you give her heaven though often it’s hell.
You love her to bits but you just can’t say no,
to others who come, offer love, and then go.

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You have plural kids and you keep giving stuff,
for the time you don’t have – to compensate love.
You’re busy, they’re demanding, they tire you out,
you pretend to know what childhood’s about.

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Friends and friendship you cherish and treasure,
many give you nothing but grief and pressure.
You’re there when they need you, come shine or rain,
but where do they hide when you’re in so much pain?

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You once found love for ‘back-up’ and ‘hard times’,
upon whom you banked half your hope and your dimes.
Though ’twas fun, ’twas a thrill, ’twas your life’s best part,
it was not meant to be, what was wrong with your heart?

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Your job is just great, you are one of a kind,
envy turns friends to foes and they stab from behind.
What you say what you do are all used against you,
you can kick you can scream only you know what’s true.

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Now there’s her and there’s you reglimpsing the past,
you are taking your time watching when it will last.
While the game plays no pain and there’s no string attached,
you forget if you lose nothing’s left to be patched.

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There you are torn and bent almost none more to give,
for all that it’s worth you just keep on to live.
She can love she can laugh she can walk by your side,
but she is just like you taking you for a ride.

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I still bet it is tough being a man of your kind,
when your heart and your soul are dead in your mind.
Well someday you’ll see as there you will be,
I can give more than love, maybe you’ll look at me.

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*Enida
Pokrovsky Hills, Moskva
July 17, 2010

(writing in the voice of this man’s wife)

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Kau mengahwiniku untuk masa mudaku
tapi aku mengahwinimu untuk masa tuaku.

~Unknown

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Jar of Hearts

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Kaum Mengaum

Saya cukup tak berkenan nak melenting pagi-pagi ni tau. Toksah kan pagi, kalau boleh siang malam pagi petang saya cukup tak gemar lah nak melenting-lenting. Untung juga saya bukan dari suku kaum yang mudah melenting. Sebab saya pun tak tau suku kaum apakah yang mudah melenting itu.

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Akan tetapi pagi ini saya termelentingkan diri apabila membaca komen di dinding Facebook seorang sahabat. Sudah agak lama saya tidak memilih untuk melenting-liuk kan jiwa saya dengan isu yang sangatlah sensitif terhadap saya ini. Isu perkauman.

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Apa yang ditulis di dinding Facebook sahabat saya itu, malu hendak saya salin dan tampalkan di blog saya ini. Buruk benar bunyi nya apabila manusia menilai sesama manusia hanya dengan warna kulit, bau badan dan bahan yang digunakan untuk mencuci punggung.

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Pada dasarnya kawan kepada sahabat saya itu menyimpulkan bahawa  orang berbangsa seperti bapa saya semuanya mempunya bau badan yang menusuk hidung, manakala orang berbangsa seperti emak saya pula semuanya pengotor kerana mencuci diri selepas membuang air besar hanya menggunakan tisu tandas. Bukan air.

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Seperti kata pepatah, “Kita adalah apa yang kita makan.” saya percaya bau badan memang merupakan masalah sejagat. Apatah lagi kita ini “Menginjak di bumi yang sama, bernafas pada udara yang sama.”

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Mahu atau tidak jika saudara berdiri di sebelah saya di dalam LRT dan badan saudara berbau seperti cendawan yang telah ditumbuhi kulat (sudahlah cendawan, berkulat lagi), saya tidaklah pula akan memeriksa bangsa apakah saudara itu. Sesungguhnya hidung saya tidak dilengkapi dengan alat pengesan bau yang dikategorikan mengikut suku kaum di Semenanjung, Sabah mahupun Sarawak.

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Sayugia diingatkan bahawa sekiranya kobis dan rempah boleh menyebabkan bau badan, orang-orang berbangsa Russia sepatutnya akan menjadi juara bau ketiak. Kerana mereka sangat gemar makan sup kobis. Masakan mereka juga sangat kaya dengan rempah, bawang merah, bawang putih dan bawang warna lain, jika ada.

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Tetapi tidak semua ketiak yang saya terpaksa cium sewaktu berasak-asak di dalam keretapi Metro itu berbau kobis. Malah kebanyakannya berbau Hugo Boss, Calvin Klein dan Davidoff. Paling tidak pun berbau Hibka atau yang sebangsa dengan Hibka.

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Sama juga ketika duduk bersantai di dalam MRT di Singapura untuk pergi menonton wayang Yasmin Ahmad dahulu. Bau harum yang membahagiakan hidung saya tidak dapat saya pastikan datangnya daripada bangsa yang berwarna apa. Putih kah, kuning kah, perang kah, kelabu kah, hitam kah, rangabirangi kah.

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Maka oleh itu saya tidak dapat menerima kenyataan bahawa bangsa berkulit gelap seperti bapa saya dikatakan berbau badan paling menyiksa kan. Tidak dapat dinafikan saya masih ingat bau ketiak bapa saya ketika beliau pulang dari padang tembak dan padang kawad. Memang menyedihkan saya dan kakak saya bila dipeluk oleh beliau sepulang dari kerja. Tetapi selepas saja beliau mandi, ternyata beliau lebih wangi daripada sebotol bedak Cuticcura.

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Seterusnya jika saya mahu bercakap soal kebersihan, oh emak saya orangnya sangatlah pembersih. Beliau sangat cerewet tentang kebersihan punggung beliau, punggung saya dan punggung semua orang yang beliau ada hak untuk merotan di dalam rumah beliau dulu. Beliau pernah ditanya tentang ‘hukum’ mencuci punggung dengan bahan selain daripada air. Beliau menjawap dengan soalan:

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“Kalau di tempat yang tiada air seperti di padang pasir, adakah anda akan menggunakan air liur atau air mata? Apakah instinjak itu panduannya dibuat untuk umat yang duduk di tempat berair sahaja? Jika tiada air, gunakan lah walaupun daun kering. Malah batu. Inikan pula kertas lembut yang wangi. Apakah yang lebih baik daripada kebersihan?”

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Saya mendengarkan jawapan emak saya sudah tentulah terbayang bagaimana orang yang sanggup punggungnya berselemus (berlumur) najis daripada membersihkan nya dengan tisu tandas! Oh ampunkanlah mereka itu yang anti tisu tandas dan telah mempolitikkan isu tisu tandas ini demi kepentingan bangsa.

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Rasanya sudah beberapa kali saya melenting soal perkauman ini. Dan sudahnya seperti biasa kesimpulan saya tetap satu. Kita didatangkan ke dunia ini bukan seperti memesan makanan di Old Town Kopitiam, boleh membuat pilihan dengan menandakan Kopi Putih atau Hitam, Mee Bandung atau Mee Siam, Nasi Goreng Cina atau Roti Benggali.

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Tetapi akan kita tinggalkan dunia ini dengan hanya dua bangsa pilihan sendiri:

  • Bangsawan yang terhormat
  • Bangsat yang laknat

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Yaaaa, mari pilih mari pilih mari pilih mari pilihhhhhhh!

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Tokyu Drift

Let’s see how many sushi-eating people can understand this Facebook conversation I had with my sisters in the high-Japanese language called Kata-Takku-Hiraugana.
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KaCher:
Moshi-moshi! Genki des ka?

Enida:
Watashi wa genki des. Anatawa? Tsudaku brekufast todaiwa des ka? Watashino brekufast ishi kamingo anohito in shi hours. Ngeeeeee!

KaCher:
Ii des ne. Watashimo genki des. Keku ne mada tabe mas, puasa des yo.

Enida:
So des ka? Suka ne! Anatano koibito yo puasa oso des ka? Sahuri ka iyyek ka tadi ne? Watashiwa imajin ni yo panat habishi ichi hari nga eto bubuka puasa des yo! Haru ko!

Enida:
Sumi masen, iyyek ‘panat’. ‘Panatsu’ ne! Sumi masen, sumi masen.

Enida:
Chakuri Parasu no bubuka puasa todaiwa des ka? Chengi’ Madam Kwan-no Nasi Bojari oishi tabe mashta hari to ka?

Petto:
Watashiwa peko peko des. 😦

KaCher:
*Enida San, Madam Kwan’s damei des ne, iyyek, oishi sen desh ta. Chengi’ mamak wa iki des hehe. Anatawa doshte taihen panatsu des ka?

*Petto San, peko-pekoooo des ne? Long time wa never hear oledi des. 🙂 Todaiwa got PT des, uwaaaaa!

Enida:
KaCher San, watashiwa tsuda waraninji to anata. Et to, Madam Kwan-no tabe… dame des yo! Amboishi ye! Watashiwa taihen panatsu da wei-tinjio wa iki Mareisha des. Keku taihen teiru-ja e homisiku, watashi ratsu mo nan-jisi yo. Tiketto boto tsuda ne. Keku kenotowa ribiru ono hiru Fesubuki. Nan ite yo sms. Kenoto wei-tinjio to seiyo “Tadaimaaaaa!”

KaCher:
Watashiwa wakari mashtaaaa. 🙂 Woohoo! Et to…haiyaku kamu bekku yo.

Ainiru:
Ohayooooooo!!! Anoooo… watashino nihon go wa, barabuku des. Watashi wa ima in Kuantan des. Tabemashta brekufastu in Gambang aru en aru (R&R). Tottemo oisshiii nasiku remaku! Enida San.. amboishi? Muahahahaaa. Tottemo kawaiii ne!

Enida:
Ihi ihi ihi ihi watashino susitaru! Tottemo suka ne!

*KaCher San, mada sabaru mo kamu bekku. Dipuresu tsuda ne. Keku pa-kinjio marasu mo bu watte yo. Watashiwa stressu des, pimpuru ono watashino muka ne! Taihen dame des!

*Ainiru San, nasiku remaku Gambang-te kudasai! Oishiiii! Homisiku tsuda ne ragi mo tsobutto des ka? Amboishi yo! Ihi ihi ihi ihi (hoishi mashta soporuteo Rin Hanikoma).

KaCher:
Ainiru San, watashino nihon go mo karamu kobutto ne hehe. Et to Enida San no nihon go wa, tottemo muzukashi des ne. Damei damei sher!

Enida:
Tottemo da esoki?

KaCher:
Sumi masen Enida San…Nan ni?

Enida:
KaCher San, tottemo daisuki, mada da esoki. Dorae mo emm!

KaCher:
Muahaha! Anatawa taihen karakaru des ne!

Enida:
Ang ang ang…

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Bertemu

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Tuan alun saya tarikan,
peramu anduh bersapa bahu;
Tuan mohon saya berikan,
bertemu jodoh siapa tahu.

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Lekin

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Mujhe jaana padega,
aap ko jaana hogaa.
Magar… kabhi alvida naa kehna.

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Backpoking

Within the next few paragraphs, I am going to sound annoyed. And I am going to be very blunt. If you feel poked, great! Maybe the paragraphs are for you. If you feel that you are wrongly accused, go ahead and sulk. See if I entertain moronity.

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Number one, I like questions but I don’t like them being asked because the questioner is too lazy to look up the answers before asking. I may not have quarter of all the answers laying around in the world. But I, Questa è Enida, at the very least, know where to find them. And most of all, I want to find them first!

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I don’t speak or write Chinese. That’s a fact. So when I get curious of Jonah Ong’s Facebook status in Mandarin, I copy, paste and translate using Yahoo! Babel text translator. One example.

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And then if I am not sure if Dubrovnik is the capital of Croatia or Lithuania, I can always Google it with a Giggle. Another example.  So now you see why it is very challenging for me to comprehend why you have to ask me where Cha’ah is!

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Number two, I appreciate friendship as it is, at any levels. You can be my best friend, my close friend, my teman-tapi-mesra friend, my kawan-biasa-biasa-sahaja friend, or remain my Facebook friend. If we were back in the 70’s or early 80’s, our closeness might have upgraded you to be my Abang Angkat, Kakak Angkat, Adik Angkat, Pak Menakan Angkat or Maktok Angkat.

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But let’s face it. I don’t have time to go through the adoption process to angkat you anywhere okay. The year now is 2010 in case you haven’t noticed and in case you have missed your make-believe shinkansen. I either keep you on my Friends List, or I remove you. Simply.

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I do understand closeness, intimacy, comfort or whatever you name it between two people in friendship. But you really don’t need to be afraid of my judgement. I don’t give it a dime. You might be the best of friends, holding hands, pecking each other on the neck when you think nobody is looking. But honestly, you don’t need a certificate to prove that you’re not screwing each other.

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So the term Adik Angkat, Abang Angkat, and Girlfriend Angkat are really not necessary in this new millenium. Not that I want to know what is going on between friends behind closed doors either. I am a big girl (trying to look small). I am not that naive lah, por favor.

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Number three, I am very comfortable being Enida under my proverbial Moscavado Sugar skin. At times I may come across as that hot beechy girl from the hottest hell rambling endlessly about grammar, spelling, hurt and pain of parenting children and men. But for all you know I have my own bills to pay too. Who says it is easy being brown on a blonde’s land?

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Just like you, I have stories to tell. Just like you, I hope my books will sell. Now if you could just quit asking me why I deleted you from my Facebook Friends List, I might be able to finish packing. And that is if I could remember what else to pack on my back other than me two Monchies.

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Uh, excuse me. Where am I going again?

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Kalau

Enida berpantun…

Akar selasih rapuh di peti,
kalau kaduk mana pucuknya?
Biar kekasih berjauh hati,
kalau rajuk mana pujuknya?

We just came home from a 4-hour walk at the Moscow State Tretyakov Art Gallery, plus a 2-hour walk at Aliya Perusa. I went to sit beside my son who was about to browse through the TV channels.

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Mommy: Ohhhh I’m tired. Can I sit by you and die please?

Edrick: No Mom! You can’t die! You’re not 100 years old yet.

Mommy: Yeaaaah but I don’t have to be 100 to die.

Edrick: But you’re not 100% yet.

Mommy: You’re right. I can’t die now. *goes ahead and dies in her son’s arms anyway*

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Take My Hand

I am braving the pain.

I have cried, but it only hurt my eyes and my face. For my voice had fallen on deaf ears and my love had reached a dead heart.

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For everything that is no longer here…
He will lead me away from my fear.

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When I make my own coffee every morning, noon and night, whether using the Nespresso machine or just having Nescafe Gold, I make sure to scoop sugar into my coffee mug first. Call me superstitious, it won’t hurt my feelings. But I always believe in order and the logicality of order.

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Scooping something sweet into the mug first, I believe, is like putting positive thoughts and aura into your day first and foremost. So when bitterness – as in coffee – comes in, it symbolically falls onto my cushion of positivities.

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But of course this order and logic does not apply to those who take their coffee black. I don’t. Coffee for me is always with 2 cubes or 2 teaspoonfuls of sugar and a 2% creamer.

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And never, ever, do I make coffee by pouring hot water into the mug first! That is a coffee-making sacrilege! Scooping sugar or instant coffee with a wet spoon is also considered a crime in my house. I have seen  way too many coffee granules contaminating jars of sugar in my life. I’ve made a vow to not commit such sin in my kingdom.

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But of late, I have been having an affair with those 3-in-1 Nescafe Gold in sachets. And although this instant drink is regarded by coffee-lovers as a disgrace to  ‘real coffee’, I do not deny that it is humbly delicious. Therefore, I, Questa è Enida, unashamedly disclose and unabashedly confess that I have sinned and I am going down.

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To earth.