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wanderten wir am samstag. nahm sich die zeit zu lesen, “The Old Man and the Sea”erneut an der spitze des Bukit Melawati. nahm sich zeit, um über mein leben bisherdenke im schauspiel von gottes schöpfung. nahm sich zeit, durch alles, wasstattgefunden hat und die menschen in ihr zu suchen. do i unreifen oder muss ichkämpfen? mehrere antworten, die ich es geschafft, zu finden. aber in dem diktum dergedanken verloren. Ich bin so stark wie ich sein kann? sind die dinge, ich glaube annoch wahr? ich möchte nur die geschichten, die ich lesen oder weinte ein mann die tränen bis zum ende geliebt zu werden?
meiner arbeit für die wohnung ist noch nicht abgeschlossen. es gibt immer noch dinge zu erledigen. Wände zu malen, möbel zu kaufen und verdrahtungen fixiert werden.hoffentlich werde ich es bis ende des monats zu erledigen. es ist einfach etwas andersüber die festsetzung der ort auf eigene faust. die zufriedenheit zu sehen, wie sich die dinge in das ende sein, ist unbezahlbar.
if i have son(s) later on, i would want them to read these books as i feel there are important lessons to be learned from them.
1. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
2. The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli
3. The Republic by Plato
4. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
5. The Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith
6. Swiss Family Robinson by Johann David Wyss
7. Lord of the Flies by William Golding
8. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
9. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
10. Ulysses by James Joyce
11. The Young Man’s Guide by William Alcott
12. Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
13. The Art of Warfare by Sun Tzu
14. Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
15. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
16. The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien
17. The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri
18. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
19. The Politics by Aristotle
20. Animal Farm by George Orwell
21. Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelly
22. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Dafoe
23. King Solomon’s Mines by H. Rider Haggard
24. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
girls have their fathers to look up to. they will cry out for the dads. boys? its not that we cry out to our moms but we talked more to our moms me thinks. My dad had 4 girls who demand his attention, that’s where my mom comes in for me i guess. Not to say i didnt need my dad, he was there when i needed a male mentor or role model. who else taught me how to fight, fix things, learn the religion, play chess and other miscellaneous things. Dad was awesome in the sense that whatever a boy needs to know from a father, he was there to guide. Though i failed him miserably when it comes to the opposite sex. hahhahaha… But for me, it’s my mother who is always there. From beating me up with firewood / cane / golf club to bringing me to my sports matches.
The comforting hug and encouraging words given
When things goes awry, there’s my mother comforting me. My mom is a person i can talk to about anything under the sun. anything at all. from politics to girls, we’ll talk about it. I guess that’s why ever since i was small, i confide in her. if i have a problem, she would list down at least 3 options or routes for me to choose from. i guess, that’s how i learn to be objective and to have choices ever since i was small. i remember when i got bullied because of my small size before, she told of 3 choices; (a)turn the other cheek – let people walk all over you (b) turn their cheek the other way – stand your ground and whack them back (c) report them – be a pussy and let someone else whach them. She explained the pros and cons of each choices. but one thing she said helped me chose the option i took; “A man should not cower from his fears”. I whacked those kids back with a firewood, came back to her and told her about it. She said she was proud of me, give me a big smile, and a hug.
She would talk about James Dean, Steve McQueen, Marlon Brando and any other male icons i should aspire to be. She rented their movies and watched with me. She read me their philosophies. If i got into fight when i was small, she would always tell my dad that at least he knows that even if i had 4 sisters, i was not soft and i could fight my own fights. Don’t get me wrong, my mom is not a violent person but i guess to train me to become a man, she can be quite scary. hahahaha..
The extroverted-ness / eccentricity
Ever since i was small, i had a reading schedule. Finish all Dr. Seuss / Enid Blyton / Hardy Boys books by end Standard 1. Finish all Roald Dahl / Famous Five by Standard 2. Finish all C.S.Lewis by Standard 3. can’t remember what she made me read in between but she made me finish reading all of Tolkien’s works by Standard 6. and we would actually talk about those books. By Form 1, she started me on a healthy dose of Thomas Paine, Jean Jacques Rosseau and other socialist / egalitarian / political concept books. I remember spending one whole day talking about Das Kapital by Karl Marx with her.
She enrolled me in public speaking class, summer camping trips every school holidays. She insisted i joined a military school once i’m eligible. She told me before that her side of the family migrated to Tanah Melayu in the old ages as bodyguards to the royal families, mercenaries, warlords. So i;d be merely following in the footsteps of my forefathers. being in the military school created the interest for me to join the military once i finished school. My mom was very supportive of the idea but my grandma, wary of her nephews who died in military training be it the army, air force or navy vetoed it.
She taught me to challenge norms. a simple example was when i was watching the old P. Ramlee film “Hang Tuah”, she was next to me telling me how Hang Jebat should be the epitome of a warrior, not Tuah who was a mindless robot.
Her principles
She confessed when i graduated uni that i was her “project” i.e. training me to be her “mini-me” in some ways. those scrapbooks she compiled on men’s grooming, debate and public speaking classes, lessons on fighting, ideas from the books i was exposed to were somehow what she wanted me as her son to know and have. I don’t think there’s any other mothers out there who gives her son Sun Tzu’s Art of War or Machiavelli’s The Prince for their 12th birthday and force me to memorize by heart the principles taught. in one way or another, she emphasis through the book on honour. Whatever u do she says, do it with honour and honour yourself whilst at it.
Letting Go
What she says might be different from what’s in her heart. She says she’s happy for me and is ready to let me go to lead my life. but deep down inside, i know she’s not and is dreading the day when she can’t easily call me for help or just pop in my room at the attic and talk about things. Every time i said good bye when i leave her house now, she will give this long silent hug without saying anything and will watch me drive off silently. She comments on my fb on things which she could easily talk to me on the phone. I know she does that just to make her presence felt. not to say she’s not being supportive as she would email me the Islamic guides on marriage, lessons of being a good husband and all. she’s even planning on the wedding already with my aunties, picturing herself as the cool grandma, imagining how she would teach my kids to read things from Roald Dahl to Mein Kampf, send them to rugby matches or even fencing classes. She’s even imagining going on shopping trips with her future daughter in law now. I know ma, i know what’s in your mind. As i told you, nothing would change the fact that i’ll be your son.
what made me write all this down?
she called me the other day at work. telling me she’s planning for the wedding. how she’s proud that i have made such decision. she told me she has got to learn how to share now. she knows its way too early for her to tell these things but there is never such a thing as a perfect time. she just want to let it off her chest. she said she knows i have chosen well and she could see in her future daughter in law the qualities of a good wife and mother. that she will be there for both of us as she nows consider her as her own daughter even if in front of everyone else, she has not. well Fuhrer, Ich liebe dich auch.
i know, no one is perfect. but can’t help feel you are not being enough or doing enough at times. i’m not insecure, i perfectly understand myself. merely concerned whether i’m enough for others. especially for those who matters.
woke up at 4.45am today. for absolutely no reason. couldn’t force myself to close my eyes again. headed to the kitchen. tokmak just got up and started her usual routine of cooking and cleaning up the place. whilst the old lady making herself busy, had my cup of coffee and my eyes followed her. whilst she was cleaning, she would mutter a lot of things. things that i may have heard for too many times. yet i still listen. not knowing when i would be deprived of hearing it again.
It brought my mind to LKC. Another one of my classmate who graduated from Tadika Fatima and went to St. John’s. He was part of the Fatima / SJI group that used to hit Bilal near the ‘pulau‘ after every co-co day. He grew up with his grandma when he was small too. When his grandma passed away early of the year, it hit him hard.A guy who has never cried before no matter how hard his life is actually let loose those tears of his unashamedly. he has never cried about anything until the day she passed away. when he got beaten up, he didn’t cry. when he got studs in his thigh that open up his flesh, he didnt cry. he would recall the days spent with her where they would both be having their breakfast together, watching soap on tv together and talk about things. he was telling me that the day before she passed away, she woke up early to cook his favorite kueh just in time for him to take it to work (yes, he’s staying with his grandma ) even she’s not well and he told her no to. she was still smiling broadly that night when he sees her off to bed. he wanted to tell her the next morning when they have breakfast that he found someone, and wanted to get married. she had long to see him get married. he didn’t manage to tell her that night as he came back late and didn’t want to keep her up.
he knew that the news would delight her. the next morning he woke up but was amiss that she was still not in the kitchen to do her usual things. (these oldies are made of sterner stuff i guess, even my grandma would let sickness stop her from doing her usual routines) he waited for half an hour before going to her room to see her. she was not going to have breakfast with him anymore. she’s not going to be around for him to offer tea when the time comes. his wife and children would not be able to see her, to get to know her. she’s not going to around anymore hang out with him at nights. she’s not going to be around to listen to him babble about work although she doesn’t understand the stock markets. she’s not going to be there to make him his fav kueh anymore.
i assure you having a six-footer hugging you and crying his hearts out was not a pretty sight. it felt weird being hugged and use as a crying bag yet i could relate to him. Listened to him talking about his grandma the rest of the day. LKC has since got married and migrated to Singapore. She left the house in his name. He hired someone to take care of the house. He couldn’t bear staying there as he’s reminded of her constantly. He’ll be back when he’s over it he says.
got snapped out of it by my grandma who slaps my head for not answering a question. “Hai, teringat orang jauh ke?” she says. I smiled. Again today she begin reminiscing how naughty i was when i was small whilst having our breakfast. It feels good to still be able to hear her speak. i do not know for how long i’d be able to. i’ll enjoy it while it lasts.
they say that you begin to grow up when you realised that things are no longer the same in the sense that you are pulled away from common routines and live no longer for your own personal goals and conscience. you begin to realise that you willingly put yourself in the grinder and and the same time felt excitement and insecurities flashing through your eyes and mind. you drift away from your friends. you begin to get closer to your family. you begin to question whether you have done enough or will be doing enough. you begin to place an importance on your earnings. you begin to realise that your self discoveries could no longer be done exclusively. you begin to compare yourself inadvertently with others. you begin to realise that in one way or another you have to tone down on your rebelliousness and free-spiritedness. you could no longer dump yourself in a bus with just just a few pieces of clothing to see the people ala-motorcycle diaries. yes, che guevara’s story was inspiring. you begin to place an importance on material wealth. you begin to yearn to be loved by someone. you begin to see that you are worthy of some form of recognition. you begin to understand that to be utilitarian, you need to be engaging. you begin to realise that you have responsibilities. i’m beginning to grow up.
1. digested, comprehended, happy but still amazed (in a positive way). looking forward to next month. 🙂
2. still soldiering on in finding a new job. got calls telling me how they liked my CV but unfortunately doesn’t suit their requirements. sly bastards. they give you hope and yanked it back in just one sentence. could have save their time and sent me an email instead.
3. work is piling up. heading towards the end of the year. grateful if i can get through this month alive. by alive i mean saved from any backstabbings / scoldings / uncooperative persons. prayers has thus far kept my head level and ready to go.
4. they say when you got it, you got to flaunt it. some people are taking it way to seriously. guess it’s time to flaunt my irritation to absurdity and perverse sense of logic displayed at work with gusto.
5. the economic transformation programme as highlighted by BFM’s early morning talk show with their interview of NKEA industry leaders has shown loopholes in its’ planning. the voices of these industry leaders should be heeded more. they are the ones on the ground and taking hits.
6. still haven’t fully digested the notion of why universities are ignoring the world universities ranking and feel as if they are already doing a good job. that’s what we call “syok-sendiri’ and allowing the culture of complacency to fully nourish itself with the administrator’s big-headedness. at least the VC of Uni Malaya still has his head on his shoulders. the rest? may god help us all.
7. still haven’t watch Inception. I have been anticipating the movie way before it was released. The reviews are intense. The word-of-mouth comments were highly engrossing. my apek dvd still haven’t even got a clear copy.
one thing that i havent done in a while is to run. Running either in the middle of the night or before or at dawn.
with my ipod in place, i’d just run down the tracks back in uni or around my housing area. a random lonely run.
i’d just run to think about things, to digest things, to forget about things, to re-think about myself or what i want / need, what do i need to do. During the debating season, it’ll be to digest different chain of thoughts and ideas.
i’d just run most of the times to just think, rationalize and then forget about my problems. to try to see my life from the positive side. i’d run a lot also to think about things that needed my attention, how i could build on it, how i could make it better. the last time i ran was 3 months back. i’m off for another midnight run.
he loves his karipap sardin 