illusions vs disillusionment

I found this on the web some place. but life without illusions durnt mean much do it? ;) without illusions we wouldnt dare dream, and there'd be less hope and drive to move forward... but on the other hand,  the shattering of illusions is a very real painful process

101 :)

09.07.2011

http://inbaraj.com/ninthjuly/

Insecurities

You know the normal story

How he loves you and leaves?

Fights and lies mar the memory

Tears fall for a time so brief?

Then you wake up from the stupor

Heart barricaded, crocodiles fed

Then you wake up from the stupor

Resolute to not be in pain and sad

Then you wake up from the stupor

But the crocodiles have become meaner

You’ve fed them don’t you see,

The unnamed beasts have been fed!

You smile again, survive and dance away,

No mention of crocodiles by any breadth

Brave upfront yet afraid to let ‘em in,

The friends you haven’t met at arm’s length

You laugh and go through the routine…

Until…

One day the meticulous dams break

The fortress falls to ruins over time

Your armour rusts off piece by blasted piece

You let your guard slip, unknowingly perhaps?

And someone makes it in:

A friend you can trust

Someone who cares in too blatant a way

No deception, just plain sincerity

Honesty so painful that the beasts are silenced

And even you begin to think ‘em slain

Then something reminds you they’re there

Watching, waiting, hungry for a morsel…

And yet the friend stays

‘For some crocodiles,’ he says

‘You need to wield the knife yourself

I killed nine of ten

I left you one, just one tiny one

To help you grow, to help you decide

And through it all, I’ll be at your side’

‘So fuck the crocodile,’ I say

‘Let’s go catch that movie at nine’

Istanbul and Me

Hi all :) Been some time since i read a decent blog, much less posted one. Been kinda preoccupied, my apologies. Nyways, here I am, 6 days into my winter hols, uploading a few pictures from our 3-day transit in Istanbul on the way home last summer. Just to add a dimension to it, am tacking on some feelings to each image.

An old tree in the Hagia Sophia Musuem. A lot of wonder and enthusiasm was poured into Ottoman relics and bejeweled daggers and teapots (yes, there was a ruby inlaid teapot), but just as much amazement and awe was found in this tree, hollow inside, yet still providing shade. 

When I see you with another, this is is how I feel. Like there's something gnawing at me from the inside out, but yet I stand there, unwilling and unable to move. Jealousy and Commitment.

A pup on the grounds of the Sultan Ahmet (Blue) Mosque. I come from a Muslim country and transiting in yet another Muslim country, I was touched to see the casual passerby feed stray dogs and cats alike. And shockingly, the stray looks almost like a pure breed Lab, don't you think?

Each moment spent with a loved one is like the moment the pup had, lying in the sun on the fluffy green green grass. A feeling of comfort and peace. Content :)

This is the replica of the candle chandeliers they had in the Hagia Sophia Cathedral. The Cathedral is easily one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen - even in the state of reconstruction it was in! Despite the 70 odd tourists in the same building complex, there was a calm about the area, unmatched in any other part of Istanbul.

Sharing small everyday things with a loved one switches on a myriad of bulbs in me, each one almost routine, but not a single mundane one unimportant. Many small things that matter to me, that keep me warm inside.

The curved domes of the Sultan Ahmet Mosque, the interior covered entirely by mosaic. Another intiguing thing is that this building has no corners, each angle is rounded. The prevailing hues of blue and gold gives it its alternative name - the Blue Mosque. And apparently it's considered sunnah for a Muslim to pray here. Aside from the central mosques in Mecca, this mosque is another one of the holy centres of Islam, or so a friend told me.

Beauty at a glance, but as we consider each slab of mosaic, we realise that's what we are. Just stone without others around us. And we realise that each of us contribute to make the bigger picture that much more alluring as we reach out to others. Humanity.

Blue sky with distant clouds, the deep blue sea. A view from the grounds surrounding the Hagia Sophia Museum. A warning to the wary, the grounds is extensive and it took us fairly fit individuals a full 10 hrs to complete it without break. There are benches around for people to sit and catch their breath, but we were on a  tight schedule and each wonder had us trotting form one to the next ceaselessly, like workaholics on amphetamine.

The want in us to seek greener pastures. The drive to go the distance and race along to an unknown destination. The stuff of dreams and that which fuels aspirations and consistent hardwork. Ambition. 

We had the chance to take the Bosphorus cruise and view the East and West banks of Istanbul. Surprisingly the cruise is government run and it costed 3 Lira - I think! I cant remember for sure now :P... 3 Lira is approximately 3USD, which works out to about 10bucks of my home currency. Not too steep a price for travelling students I feel :) Each cruise ship had floats lined up one the sides like this one and we saw the remnants of the old forts and watchtowers, the homes of the wealthy, lush greenery that later reminded me of Kerala a bit, and the famous Bosphorus bridge, a picture of which I think we and has to be somewhere in the collection of Istanbul pictures.

For a person afraid of open water, you make me want to jump into the cold waters anyway. Why? You make me feel safe and cared for, that's why. Security.

     The Hagia Sophia Cathedral and the Sultan Ahmet Mosque stand as symbols of religious renaissance in Istanbul. Also The Spice Bazaar, Central Bazaar, lighthouse, Caverna Basilica (which is eerily beautiful!), and the Hagia Sophia Museum are places not to be missed. 

     Will try to dig up some pictures and write another post some time :) 

     Oh and if you're at Istanbul, do walk along the tramline, use the tram with their cute red tokens, try their non-melting icecream, drink their apple tea, and don't forget to try their small ring shaped pastry with kas-kas on it. If you arent a travelling student on a  tight budget, Turkish tapestries and rugs should be on your wish list too :P 

     Turkey is worth the visit..! :)

Crustaceanness

First off I know I've been MIA and not commenting on your blogs and all. But I'm home and that means little or no spare me time, so bear with me. When I get back to uni I'll catch up on all I've missed. I hope :)

Being home's weird. Hard facts hit home, old friends rediscovered, new friends make waves in our lives. The family never changes at the core though and I like that. That's what coming home means. PEOPLE I belong to. And I've found that I can find that in something other than blood relatives. I'm not too sure what to make of it though.

My family's my family and I've always known they'll be around to catch me and I've never wanted anyone else to cushion any falls before this. Now, I'm afraid that I've become dependent. Yeah, I used the D word. Dependent. And it nags at me.

I've always been me, doing what I want when I want. I'm not a rebel nor a trend-setter. I'm just content to be and believe that in whatever I do, I need to do it right. Now I've begun wondering what THEY think of me. These new people I've become dependent on. And I don't like it.

I'm afraid that these bonds will be severed come a few weeks, coz face it I have massive commitment issues and I know I might end up walking away. I just hope they keep me coming back for more because from where I'm standing right now, the view's pretty good and if I do have to budge, I hope I try to scale this mountain again.

~There's always gonna be another mountain, I'm always gonna wanna make it move~ Yep. I was inspired by Hannah Montana. Lolx.

Back to my train of thoughts. Actually winding country road of thoughts would be more appropriate.

I find myself with this insane need to UNDERSTAND people. I know. Knock me flat and call me blind. I've always liked being able to read people, figure out what makes them work. Hence the field I'm in right now. But there've been a couple of people of late where I want to know every single mundane detail. I wish people came in cans with the ingredients written on the label, along with the calorie count. Then I wouldn't become so bloody obsessed with figuring them out and I can go back to being nice old peace-loving garden-weeding couldnt-give-a-damn-bout-who's-not-talking-to-whom me.

Might as well wish I was a crustacean living in the Pacific then, huh?

Bottom line is this. I'm interested, aware of my inability to commit longterm, too curious even for my usual nosiness, annoyed at myself, slightly excited at my non-crustaceanness.What, I cant be all a lump of cynicism, now can I? I need to believe in SOME things.

I believe in NON CRUSTACEANNESS among other things :)

p/s: Crustaceans feature big in my blog, all for different reasons. I'm gonna have to start a label on that soon. Soon-ish

Mum to Daughter

She looked at her daughter and wished for her:
a man who would keep her safe
an inspiration that would help her through her rough days
a friend to laugh and cry with
a shoulder she could lean against
the strength to bear another's burden
someone who would never bring her down
someone who kept her humble
a person who knew right from wrong; who would never cheat or steal
one whose smile would make her daughter grin in return

Most of all, she wished her daughter would find a life partner who would cook, clean and do the laundry for her. Really :)

Conforming?

Let Go - His

Your smile’s always kind, polite;

Your conversation ceaselessly bright;

When we go out, you’re dressed to the nines;

And your humour is a definite gold mine,

But never once have I seen you let go:

I haven’t yet heard you chuckle or yawn,

Nor have your eyebrows come together in frown;

Your aura always seems a controlled brown,

And the golden halo is your perfect crown;

But I want to watch how you let go:

To dare and be more than society’s norm,

To be a bit crazy and let your hair down;

I’ll stand by you as you let it all go

Because, I only want to know the real you,

Not the shadow propriety can subdue.

Like always, each person gets his and her say for the sake of balance.

Today, Yesterday, Tomorrow - Hers

It felt good to see you again,

You in your T- shirt, its colour a bit waned,

Your humour light, as humble as rain,

Yet there were many things changed:

The way you looked so long at me,

As I searched for the rebel within;

The appreciative slight nod at me,

As you watched me frown, laugh and grin;

We were just not the same, were we?

I have changed you see,

Irrepressible daredevil no longer,

I am not who I used to be,

I am now a very different me.

Gone is the glaring individuality

I’ve become less of an eccentricity.

Experiences gained and friends lost,

Have made me that much more calmer,

Dreams let go off, achievements reached,

Have made me judgemental and stronger,

I’ve been moulded by the passing of time

And assimilated the rest traits you see.

And if you don’t much fancy the new me,

Then do us a favour, leave and let me be

Don’t expect me to turn back the clock for you

I cannot go back to who I once used to be

Or you could just hang around and learn:

To accept me as I am today

To remember what I was yesterday

And dare to stand by me as I grow tomorrow.

So what do you say?

The guy just wanted back the girl he had known and wondered why she would conform to an ideal she had not upheld previously. The girl, apparently not having an answer to that question, is just asking him to go with the flow and see what comes of it for she cannot undo the changes that she has made (has been made?) to herself.

Isn’t conforming part and parcel of everyday life? If not we’d find people walking around with leaves as clothes, using blood to write, sleeping in the bathroom and peeing in the kitchen and only heaven knows what else.

We do it for society, our family and friends, work, strangers, world peace (??) and ourselves. We do it knowingly and unknowingly. I feel Sigmund Freud-ish here.

I mean, all of us are rebels in our own ways, and allowing oneself to fit into society isn’t all that wrong, now, is it?

Moving on

“Ruuuuunnnn!!” the guy in the windbreaker jacket yelled at N and P watched in amusement as her friend clambered after the ball.

“P, pay attention, they’re bringing the ball down. Why aren’t you guarding your opponent?” their coach’s voice brought her back to the present.

P moved to block F’s pass, and managed to get the ball away mid-dribble. She heard her teammate yell her name and saw the bright yellow of her team jersey flash to her right. She was going to do a right pass when something hit her on the back of her head hard. That was when everything went dark and she felt her body fall onto the grassy turf.

Her head was throbbing and someone was calling her name from far away. Cold droplets hit her face and she struggled to open her heavy eyelids. Her vision was blurry, and she blinked uncontrollably for a few seconds.

“She’s OK.” The relief in N’s voice was mirrored in the expressions of the others around her. “Say something, P,” N demanded.

“Wha..What happened?” she managed to say.

“I was taking a corner and the ball hit you.”Even in her dazed state P knew that voice too well. It was E. She tried to nod, but the movement made her feel nauseated.

“You look like you’re going to throw up,” their coach said, squatting down next to her. “Maybe we should go to the polyclinic; it should still be open.” He glanced up at E who was his classmate.

“Yeah, I’ll help you.”

Before P knew what was happening, she was being half carried off the field by those two.

“Baby, you girls keep working on those passes, all right?” Coach called over his shoulder at N who nodded, still frowning with worry.

“I’m sorry, P,” E said as they walked to the polyclinic. After a few minutes of being supported by the two boys, P had insisted that she be allowed to walk on her own. The boys had finally relented after a somewhat lengthy objection.

The GP shone the light into her eyes, made her walk to check her gait and pronounced her OK, but referred her to the neurologist all the same.

Coach’s mobile rang just then. “E, go in with her.”

P opened her mouth to say something, but Coach silenced her with a look. “Baby?” he said into the phone.

E sighed. “Come on.” He knocked on the neurologist’s door and P stared at his broad back. The memories were still too fresh and she could feel the tears burning at the back of her eyes. E pushed the door open then and the tears that had threatened to fall only a moment ago remained pooled in her eyes from the shock of seeing A seated behind the desk.

“She might have had a concussion,” E informed him.

“Sit down,” A said, motioning at the patient’s chair. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

P swallowed. His piercing brown eyes had had the same affect when her class had followed him on clinical rounds 2 weeks back. At that time he had just been another sarcastic post-graduate student.

“I hit her with the ball,” E supplied but A held up his hand to stop him.

“I would like to hear it from her.”

P could almost feel E scowling and for some reason that made her smile. She explained haltingly and tried to list down all her complaints.

A looked up and smiled that half smile of his. “As precise as when you answer in class. Now what examination do you propose to check for possible dysfunctions?”

P gaped at him. He was treating her like a student – again!

A chuckled at her confusion. Fifteen minutes later they were in the corridors again.

“What did the neurologist say? Coach asked standing up as they closed the door behind them.

E’s face was dark. “He’s an ass.”

“What?” Coach turned to look at P who shrugged.

“I am to come back tomorrow if the symptoms don’t disappear. And he isn’t an ass. He’s nice.” Just then her mobile beeped. One new message received. She hit the ‘read’ button:

I saw the tears in your eyes and I wanted to hit him so badly. Go back and have a relaxing bath, I’ll bring up uper soup for dinner. You’re probably gonna find it hard to sleep after the knock to the head, and I have my case study statistics to compile. I’ll keep you company, if you’d like? I get off work in 5 mins. I hope your head doesn’t hurt too much.

P replied:

Sounds good, A. Looking forward to it :)And the pain will get better over Milo with you…

Coach’s eyebrow shot up at the sight of her textmessaging. “Mystery guy?”

E turned quickly. He had heard that she had finally begun seeing someone. Was that why she had turned down his offer to reconcile? He was still hurt by the rejection, but her dark eyes were shining and they were no longer shining for him, they only shone for this unknown guy in her life.

“I’ll introduce you guys one day,” she said, smiling softly. Coach knew that look, it was the same look that N got whenever he did something nice for her. The expression of love? Happiness? He shook his head. Almost an hour ago she was seeing stars and now she was all starry-eyed. Girls were weird like that. There was just no use trying to figure them out.

ss*All characters and events are fictitious... Some elements were ‘borrowed’ from recent happenings though. I do need to get inspiration from somewhere, you know? ;)

And another long short story. Oxymoron? Woopsie… :)

On Anger

"When angry, count to four. When very angry, swear."         

- Mark Twain, American writer and humourist - 

Have a nice day, people! :)

Not My Typical Monday

“There’s a daily withdrawal limit, so that means we get to pay only on Friday,” he told his

girlfriend.

My mouth stuffed full of fries, I could just nod. We had just booked our flights home.

So, wads of notes crammed into my jeans, we had pizza together. That was at 1400 hours.

Got home, soaked my laundry, defrosted the shrimp, looked up the recipe for seafood pasta,

opened numerous webpages and began my earth-shaking (not! ) task of leaving comments on blogger and replying a thread on FB that keeps us together still.

            Then my phone rang. It was my ex-roomie, E. “Loshi, do you have antacids?” Her voice was strained.

            Me being me, I yelled down the phone , “E! When’d you get back?!”  It took me three whole minutes to realise that something was wrong. I’m like that at times.

            Grabbing my antacids and other meds I keep around for gastritis I ran up the 2 floors to her room.

            The first thing I saw was her red round butt. Not E’s butt. P’s butt. She looked like she was doing some weird yoga pose, but in fact she was doubled over in pain in the middle of the floor.

            It took 30 minutes, a cold compress to her abdomen  and another two rounds of retching and puking, plus some exchanged worried glances between E, Y (the third roommate..) and I before I ran down to the djurni mama’s post to ask her to get an ambulance, leaving the other two in charge of the Emotional Department. That was 1656. I know that because I got a call right then from my ex which I not unhappily cancelled.

            “Padajdite ni monoshka,” the mamachka told me and I went to sit down at the sofa in the lobby.        

            I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Each passing minute had me convinced that the gastritis had led to a peptic ulcer, which in turn had perforated, caused freaking sepsis and formed a bloody abcess in her brain, on a background of pain shock, of course. The paramedics here are called ‘skora pamoch’ which literally translates as ‘quick help’. The freakin’ irony.

            It was worse because I had to smile at people I knew who walked past and tell them that I was waiting for a friend. A little white lie to prevent mass hysteria. Sort of.

            It took them 40 minutes and I had exhausted the limits of my colourful vocabulary in my mind. The paramedics came in then, bloody laughing and I stood up and to my utmost surprise, I smiled!

            Yeah well, she got poked in the stomach, asked a couple of routine questions and after a hushed conversation between those two tall men, got administered platyphylline.

            The three of us hovered in the background, squishing the occasional baby roach or two.

            Using what little Russian linguistic capabilities we had harnessed over these years, we communicated with those two giants and they whisked P and Y away in the ambulance to the hospital, leaving E and I with puke-pail, used ampoules and the task of getting all of P’s documents and personal items for an overnight stay at the hospital.

            Oh, and I put the shrimp back into the freezer… :)

            Approximately 1800 hours: E and I are sardined in the marshutka (sort of a shuttle van?) to the hospital, stuck between beautiful blonde with fake eyelashes and smelly old drunk.

            1835: We arrive at the old building and after even more waiting, bloodtaking and a zillion stupid jokes that we seem to spout at moments like these, P got the greenlight for the slumber party at the hospital ward. Woo-hooo!

            Then we get up to the ward and the medsistra informs us that P would be needing her own plate and mug if she planned on getting fed while hospitalized. Now how the hell had E and I overlooked a plate  and mug while packing for an emergency hospitalisation? I mean, seriously, man, what the heck were we thinking??

            After hugging P, we three musketeers walked down to the groundfloor and went to a store nearby to get the mug and plate and some food for the poor woman since it was now past nine p.m., which meant dinner at the hospital was over (thankfully? Haha..)

We also grabbed some M&M’s for sustenance ;)

            The walk back was a shocker. The stars were out, so many and so bright that my earlier peevishness dissolved like the M&M’s in my mouth. It was fabulous.

Then the wind started blowing. Talk about the calm before a storm.

            The wind was just chilly initially, teasing, then it got stronger and by the time we exited the pharmacist (we have to buy our own meds here… which I kinda like. Funny, aint it?) we had a minityphoon roaring around us.

            Pushing against it and giggling uncontrollably we walked down that last dark lane, expecting a  mental gold-toothed man, frothing at the mouth and wielding a huge chainsaw behind every tree, we got back to P finally.

            We passed her everything under the hawk gaze of the nurse and took ourselves home.

            2200 hours or something like that: We completely spooked ourselves out when we were walking out to the marshutka stop because the cats were yowling and dogs werenbarking at the raging wind. Three idiots, the Malaysian version :P

            2245: I turned the key to my unit to find that I had laundry to wash. My nightmare. I walk into my room and look myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess. My mum’s worst nightmare (my hair’s lack of regard for conformity is notorious at home).

            2358: Happy with my hot shower, I began typing this

            0031 hours: With a steaming mug of Milo at hand and my hair half dried, the minityphoon

is a scale 1 typhoon now. I hope the trees don’t get uprooted and that the stray animals and homeless have found safe shelter somewhere. I realise that the medical service in this country is slow because they lack the manpower and funds - the image of the overworked resident at the priomnaye adjeleniye (reception) is in my mind’s eye right now. I hope I wake up in time for lectures tomorrow, but I can’t sleep yet. I need my hair to dry first. One of the woes of the fairer sex :)… and I hope P’s ok.

*it is not 6 am plus... that's Malaysian time :). I must be growing old coz it isn't even 1 am and my eyes are so heavy already. Terrible. Maybe I should consider investing in a hairdryer?

The After Party

I wonder who coined that word coz the after party is the real party.. then there's the after-after party, where one needs to clean up whatever mess is left behind and wake up for a full day of work.. haha..but 'twas good and here we are plunging headlong into another week again! :P

exams r done for this sem. good. other stuff still pending and am hardly excellent company when i have uncertain things, tasks,bla bla bla hanging over my head. i get cranky. thank god for crankier friends, entertainment, good blogs, wonderful food and family, in no particular order. makes things seem a bit better.

but actually, i wanted to type about my fascination for ppl who are still so connecetd to their homelands even though they live elsewer. it's weird but i like it. but am in a grumbly mood, so will do that some other time, when i am all sunshine :)

too-dles ppl. i have no bloody idea what that means, but i've got more work to do. monday blues.. grrrr! ciao..

Troublesome Mountains

Dark title for a dark blog. It's about the worst nightmare of being away from home and decent commercial service. It's a lesson about how procrastination hurts - literally. My shoulders are so sore right now and I am typing with one hand, but i am getting ahead of myself here. Let me begin...

Two bags full. Not like i had accumulated it for months.. it was a mere ten days. Ten days without decent hot water at the height of winter.

Deciding that i had put it off for long enough (civilised hot water had been running through the pipes for the last 2 days, you see), i dumped the contents of one bag into my little blue pail, added detergent and let it soak.

Two hours later, i scrubbed and rinsed and pummeled those dastard bits of cloth into a semblance of hygiene, humming tunelessly to myself the whole way. I didn't feel it at that time - not yet. It was the wringing dry that killed me. Each piece had to be meticulously freed from excess H2O or they would freeze onto my windowpanes (yes, i am proud to report that it has happened before :P)

Then, after i had rinsed out my little blue pail, the pain set in. I think i pulled my deltoid (shoulder muscle..)on my left and it hurts like hell. It should get better in a day or two, but till then, my laundry's gonna continue piling up, mountains that could compete with Kilimanjaro or Fuji!

Well, it could be worse i guess. I could have pulled my right deltoid and killed all chances of me leading an uncrippled life for these next 2 days. Or there could be no hot water again *shuddering at the thought*

Anyways, wish me luck with my laundry people. Remind me that mountains too can be conquered, or at least whittled down to mole hills ;)

Giving

Christmas is less than a week away and the season of giving has already started.

There were clothes' donations, meal sharing, and advice-giving sessions all around this past week plus and I'm wondering when it'll stop. Talk about being a kill-joy =P

I actually enjoy the material goods sharing part and the getting together and bonding, but the ADVICE has to stop, man. They probably mean well, these friends of mine, but well, they don't have a clue what they are talking about.

It'll be all right if the advice was given to me alone, but it was done in a room FULL of people (OK, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration there....=P). I appreciate the gesture, don't get me wrong, but as a friend I know says, one must 'ada hati' to take the next step.

Not to mention, there were some not too subtle moments in the wee hours of this morning where I wanted to stick my head into the ground like an ostrich out of sheer embarrassment. Oh, my God! Friends from hell... hehe... I still love you guys, though!

Yeah well, all that aside, to apologise or not to apologise, that is the question.

Considering how it's the season of giving and all that, I should just do that - apologise and make things right again. I'd actually rather just avoid the person involved for eternity but that's what a bloody13-yr-old would do.

Hence, here I am, giving myself the courage to do this right and move on with life. In this season of giving, I'm giving myself the gift of emotional freedom and honesty. What are YOU giving yourself?