R for Ramadhan, R for Raya

With the arrival of Ramadhan, I feel a sense of calmness. A calmness which, no matter how havoc life seems to be, would never go away. And with that, I give my thanks to God. Of course, there's also the fact that after Ramadhan, it's Raya =P
Saturday. Bliss. 1 quiz, 2 exams and a presentation are over. Huh. And next week, I have 2 more tests. Yikes. Since this semester is almost ending (approximately 2 weeks left before finals, YAY), the lecturers are rushing to finish the syllabus and tests and quizzes. Which is why my days are packed with those.

Ramadhan here seems different. It is different. I try not to think how the atmosphere usually is at home during the breaking of fast. Food, food and food. A maid serving. The whole family eating together almost everyday. A rare sight. Okay, I'm thinking about it now. Here, I've to buy and find my own food. And since I'm fasting, I become more picky when it comes to food.

Limited space -> Limited food intake

Get it? Lol. So food selection must be done with extra precise and care. Hehe.

It doesn't seem long since the last Ramadhan. It was only last year. No, it's not even a year. Come to think of it, we've been going through Ramadhan every year. And yet with each year, it becomes even more special, even more meaningful. I remember during my childhood, fasting because my parents asked me to. And I would sneak into the kitchen, open the fridge and take a sip of drink xD But now, there's more to this month than eating and drinking. I mean, think logically. An early breakfast, a skipped lunch and dinner, right? So there's no fuss really with all the hunger and thirst. What important is, to control your thoughts, actions and words. It's not easy, but it's achievable. And I'm trying. Being a better person, changing along with the flowing days, because..well, because it's a normal process. That's that.

I hate to think that after this, I've to complete my Malaysian Studies assignment. If I knew, I would have choosen another topic. Haih.

Drizzle

Zaza said I was 'warak' *eyebrows arched*- the highest level as a Muslim, according to her. So I asked, what did religion mean to her. She paused for a while before answering, religion's just something to believe in. I fell silence. Islam isn't just something to believe in. Religion isn't something just to believe in. It's ad din; the way of life. Preach what we're taught. That's what differentiates us from the others. Otherwise, A Buddhist could be a Christian. A Christian could be a Muslim. In the end, they're just names. I don't think a lot of people would agree to that.
It's raining again. It's been raining everynight lately. Sometimes, I couldn't help but think. Couldn't help but wonder. Couldn't help but ask. Up to now, I'm still doing all those. It's hard when questions are asked. I don't know what to answer. They wouldn't believe me anyway. Nobody ever did. But well, everyone's different right? And right now, smiling is a lot easier than answering. Being secretive, isn't who I want to be. Here, I'm starting new. Fresh as a leaf, crisp as a chip. I don't have the answer to everything, much as I want to. The past, the present, the future. They're all equally important. Without one of those, I'd fall. And if that happens, I'm not sure I could get up once more. I'm not sure I would want to.
Sometimes I wish, I could lie down under a big tree. Without having these thoughts in me. Yet sometimes I wish, I could let it all out. For once and for all, and never look back. I intended to do that. People made it look so easy. But it's not. I still do. But what's there in the past?
I try not to question myself anymore. I have to believe in everything I do. Even if the path's there, I wouldn't want to go back. I wouldn't want to choose something else. I wouldn't want everything to be different. Everything's fine the way it is. Only, am I fine with it? Doesn't matter. As long as I can still laugh. As long as I can still smile. As long as I can still hope. Fear of hopes being crushed. Fear in believing. Those were in the past. They might come true, they might not. It could rain everyday for all I care. Because you know what? I know the sun will be there tomorrow. Always.

Afar

Sometimes I wonder. When I looked out of the window, and saw people milling around. Just how different we are? What hurt me may not hurt them. How does sensitivity work? I don't know.
I spend all day with Rina today. We were searching for, ehem, 'the bag' which remains non-existent so far. Who cares >_< I was just glad we're able to hang out. Like how we used to. Back in Miri, back in Labuan. Someone who's almost like family. I spend last night at Roy's. Then we got lost trying to find my aunt's house =P
The cold nights in matriculation. Haha. It's funny thinking about those now. Cold nights. We're going to experience that wherever we go. Just have to deal with them. Well, we managed to get through those didn't we? Hm, you know what I miss the most about Labuan? My pink water ladle! It used to be so cute. Lol.

One thing after another

I never thought of this before but come to think of it, I never mentioned this blog to anyone anymore. Not to my new friends. Not during NS, not during matriculation, definitely not while I'm in KUTPM. I don't even know why. Just because. There's no reason to expose yourself further to the world. There shouldn't be any. To me, the only thing that matters, is knowing. How things happened, how much you've changed. Realising how immature you once were, and who you are now. Self-realisation.
I'm drained. Classes started at 8 am and ended at 4.30 pm. Spend the whole day in Annex. Today, I went back to my room on purpose to use the toilet. Ha! Didn't want last week's incident to happen again. I drank plenty of PLAIN WATER that day. It was raining heavily and the class was air-conditioned. Add all those, it could only mean one thing; I needed to pee, badly. I did survey the toilet there, twice but I couldn't bring myself to use it. God knows how picky I am. The next gap of class was at 2 pm-the clock showed 1.40 pm. There's no way I could wait for another 20 minutes. Asking the lecturer to excuse me so I could pee was a definite no. There was no way out ( I love exaggerating don't I?), so I stood up, umbrella in hand and blatantly walked past the lecturer who was, at that time, was still lecturing. The fact that he was standing in front of the door didn't help. That was rude, yea, but I was out of options. I braced the 15 minutes walk to my room and walah, mission accomplished.
Okay, I'm tired. Sleep sleep.

Golden Chiffon

Orientation week had ended last Saturday. It was..well, it sucked a little as how orientation should be. All those briefings, bleh. And that birthday gimmick on Friday, haha. I was scared to death, thanks to the fcs who actually yelled at us. Turned out the whole thing was a gimmick. I would have been pleasantly suprised had I not knew it earlier; they did the same gimmick in NS. Jauh perjalanan, luas pemandangan. Lol. But it was still nice of them.
Currently I have 2 roommates and 5 housemates. Now, I have 6 kakak where as before this I had none. The others are all 20 years old. Besides me and Aisyah that is. We're both 18 (at last I can say that! =P) I never thought I would say this but but but..too much air-condition sucks- our place is 24/7 air-conditioned. I never felt more dehydrated in my life. Be careful of what you wish for. Haha. Nevermind that.
I'm only taking 3 subjects since it's a short semester. Islamic Studies *groan* ,Malaysian Studies *double groan* and Health Science. In other words, it's an easy semester. At least final exams are before Hari Raya. Yay!
I've met Effa! Yayyyyy. Couldn't believe meeting her here. It's like another scene from Miri.

My first day of being 18. The birthday celebrations, the birthday songs, the birthday wishes. Even so, it was the loneliest birthday I've ever had. Smiling smiles and faking excitement I didn't feel when my housemates "suprised" me with a birthday cake. Listening to Ctah's and Lala's shrill voices singing a birthday song on the phone. Listening to my Dad's own version of Birthday Song. I longed to be at home. To have my usual birthday dinner, and cake, and presents and being the Queen of the house for the day. I longed to celebrate it with my family. None others. I wanted to wake up, knowing the moment I stepped out of my room Dad would shower me with hugs and kisses as if I was a 7-year old. I wanted all those.
Last time, I would rack my brain trying to think of what I wanted for my birthday present. Yesterday, all I thought was how hard it was to be 18. From 17 to 18. That one year period. It was long. It was rocky. It was not beautiful. Nevertheless, I'm here. I still have a long journey ahead of me. And I want to go through it. Not because I need to, but because I want to. I want to walk that path even if it's difficult. I never wanted anything so badly in my life. I want this.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice,a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979)

Reflection

Imagine everyone; your parents' friends, your family, watching you grow up. Every single step you take is noted. Every single flaw. It's as if you're on a stage, and you have an audience in front of you. You can't afford to make mistakes. You can't afford to screw up. Everything has to be perfect. And perfection becomes a part of you because that's what you grew up with. You need the praises, you need the attention. You need people to tell you you've done well, after everything you've tried to accomplish.

Maybe now, I'm beginning to understand.

Let the wind blows

Do you really care or were you just pretending all this while?

That's the question I feel like spitting at her.
But I didn't.
It's easier to avoid eye contact and limit my acquaintance.

How could anyone do that? No, not wondering. More like furiously yelling.

My heart refused to believe it. That was then. Now my mind tells me otherwise.
Just thinking that, knowing the chances are there stabs me in the heart.
To think I've been finding excuses for her. To think I've been defending her.
Now I just feel dirty. Now I just feel used.
There's always a loophole. That's what I believed on the first time.
Any human could make mistakes. But to ignore on the second time.
When the proof is dancing naked in front of me.
That would make me a downright fool.
I would have given anything to prove it wrong. That it's just one ugly mistake.
But it's not. It never was. That's what's so disappointing.

Ctah taught me it's not how long you know someone that matters, it's how well you know them. You could never know someone well enough, no matter how long. Not 18 years. Not 50 years. Not even a whole lifetime. Every part of me wants to feel angry. But all I feel, is hurt. And all I have are bitter tears. Pathetic.
Knowing now the smiles and the warmth are fake. She's one hell of an actress, that I can give her. Haha. Now I don't know who to trust. I suck when it comes to judging people. Big time. It's time to tread carefully.

Even now, they refuse to do anything. Letting bygones be bygones. Acting as if it never happened.

I didn't understand why.

But now, I think I do.

It's called sacrifices.

Beyond The Whites

The first day of August. The eighth month into the year of 2007. Finally it's here. A year since the 1st of August 2006. I wonder what happened back then. Or the year before that. I couldn't remember. Our lives are pieces of dreams sewn together. There are dreams we remember. There are dreams we don't. Dreams which could keep us up the whole night. Or dreams we don't even know we had.
They say dreams are parts of our subconcious minds. The secrets which dwell within ourselves. Secrets we don't even know exist. The opposite of reality. What happened in dreams normally don't occur in real life. Well, that's why they're called dreams aren't they?
Somewhere between the fake and fact. Fantasies which reflect reality. Reachable but merely. It doesn't matter. In the end they remain what they are. Just dreams. They're not real. No matter how much we yearn them to be. They're just not real. Believe that.
But... dreams give us hopes don't they? A tiny flicker of hope. When you're left with nothing, and you have your dreams with you. And they make what unreachable seems...reachable. They make life's cruel games seem less cruel. Those are what dreams potray. Even if they're fake, they are all we have. They are all I have.
August is, has always been, magical to me. Maybe I've watched too many disney cartoons and movies, and oh, there's harry potter and Diana Wynne Jones's fiction stories, and the fairytales books, and Wicca. And a lot more. But August is magical. In glitters and in stars. The fact that it's not exactly the middle month, and not quite the end of the year. And for Malaysians we're guaranteed one day of holiday at the end of the month, which is a bonus point except for all the lame celebrations and having to pretend just how patriotic we are. No pun intended. But hey, one blank day stretches ahead of me? Count me in. Flag waving or no flag waving.
Nah, not because of all those. It's just nice seeing people happy. Even if it's just for a day. Even if it's just for a smile.
God, this peanut butter AND strawberry sandwhich totally ruined my dinner. Now I've to make a new one. Peanut butter doesn't go with strawberry. Sheesh. Where's the banana?
Tata :)

Teared Silk

Hearing a bird chirped, I looked up. There it was. Black and white. I watched it for a while before it took off.

I recognised that bird. The same voice, the same colour, the same position. Amazed. Yes, I was amazed. Even after all these while, it's still there. But then, I couldn't be sure whether that was the exact bird. The one who was there while I was weeding. Or when I sat at the patio for ages, gazing upon the sky. It could easily be a similar one. I'm not a bird-watcher, I wouldn't know. All birds look the same to me.

Some things remain don't they? Untouched by the passing time. Yet some things don't. Changes occur without our agreement. Whether we like it or not, whether we're willing to or not. It's unavoidable. A whole lifetime process. Life changes and we're changing along with it. Adapting to different situations, protecting ourselves subconciously. Certain people look upon it as a kind of merit. Accept it as a part of you, and learn to deal with the 'new' you. Yet some people see it as a flaw. Reluctant to cope with it and move on.

Being back here, it reminds me of how things once were. It seems as if everything is untouched. Still the same as how I'd left them. Even though to the eyes, everything is different. I'm not talking about someone changing the cover of my pillow hug with the exact one and denied it when I pointed it out- as if I wouldn't notice it. It was like when my brother sprayed me with a strong scented perfume on purpose and the scent wouldn't go off no matter how hard I scrub. It happened, it has passed. But it's still there. The smell still lingers. And you suffocate, trying to hold your breathe as long as you could trying not to notice it.

There were moments when I asked myself what I was doing here. I should be out there, back to how I used to be. Tensed, all stressed up, finishing my assignments as how my friends are. Anything. What I shouldn't be doing, is being at home, taking a break, typing this post.
Mistake number one.
I have always been impatient. I have always rushed about. Maybe for this once I need to slow down. Not necessarily halt, but slow down. Finish that 2-hour movie instead of watching it in 30 minutes flat. Drink that one can of Coke instead of taking only a few sips before throwing it in the bin.

Up to this point, should I say I have regrets? Or would anyone believe me if I said I didn't have any? Because truthfully, I don't. Regretting means caring. Regretting means admitting my own mistakes. I do realised those. My mistakes. But they were mistakes which were meant to be. From your mistakes, you learn. I couldn't even say I wouldn't repeat them, because I know I will. I'm one foolish human *applaude* Somewhere in the future, I'll do them again. Everything will replay itself once more. In order to be forgiven, you must make sins. In order to realise, you must do something regretful enough. Only then they're worth it.

Standing at the brink of life. Stabbed by unexpected moments. I've been there. I don't have to dig deep into my past and look far to recall them. I don't need regrets and fears to ensure me of my journey. Just remembering those tells me, I don't want to experience it again. I don't want to go back there and feel those once more. In one step backward that's accidentally taken, I need to move 3 steps forward.
Funny.
I would never learned how random life is. I wouldn't be able to see how things aren't always as I want them to be. But hey, maybe it's not too bad aite?
Being strong in some ways yet fragile and vulnerable in others.

dumplings and pau

Some thought I left because I couldn't stand it there, which was partly true. But not entirely. Some thought I left because Rina had left, which was pure bullshit. What people had in their minds, I couldn't be bothered to correct their perceptions. I don't have to explain myself to the world, much less to them. What's important, is that I know where I'm heading towards. What's important, is that my family and friends fully support me in taking the next step.

KUTPM. A scholarship to do foundation in Medical Science.

Thanks to Effa, the whole world has probably know this by now :P
That was the real reason I left. That was what I couldn't bother to explain. Even so, like every other time, I couldn't help wondering whether I'd taken the right step. Whether this road, was the road I wanted to go on. And where it would lead me to. I couldn't help feeling scared that I might not be able to meet up to people's expectations. Scared that I might let my parents down again. Scared that I might not have the capabilities after all. There was a point when I almost gave up. There was a point when I felt so worthless. That maybe, I didn't deserve to live. That was the mistake I almost made. Giving up on life, when it's the only precious thing I still had. I forgot life was a gift itself.
I've fallen a couple of times this year alone. Each fall hurt. Each fall diminished everything I'd believed in. Each fall convinced me living was futile. Up to the point where I felt I couldn't get up anymore. I couldn't muster the courage to fight because each time, I kept losing. Maybe, everything was destined to be. That was the moment when I didn't know myself at all. Who was I? The words I'd spoken sounded like they were someone else's. My determination, my stubborness. The light of the candle had been snuffed out. Everything wasn't there anymore. Not knowing who you were, that's what so hard.
But then dad told me if I wanted to give up, then I should have done that a long time ago. Before I chose this path, before I went through the hardships. It wasn't easy for me to figure out what I wanted out of life, and when I did, I shouldn't let it go. That was the choice I made, and I should hold on to it no matter what. Dad was right. There's no turning back now.
The truth is, I'm scared of growing up. It's painful. I'm scared of having to leave home and live alone. I'm scared without my parents with me. Deep down, I'm still a child.
All those- my fears, screw them. A life live in fears is a half-life. After all, I'm not alone in being alone aren't I? All of us are learning to be alone so we'll never be lonely. I'm through with playing safe. I'm sick of worrying. From now on, I'm going to live.


I find the great thing in this world is, not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.
(Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe, 1749-1832)

A Step Closer

Considering the amount of messages I've received so far, I could guess; the news has started to spread.
I've left KML.
So I only told a handful of people.
So I refused to have an ex-kolejians farewell party.
I didn't think it was necessary.
I didn't want to waste spending my limited time with those who weren't close to me.
It wasn't a big deal.
As Mira had said it, I liked doing magic. Disappearing suddenly without any hint.
That's not the case.
There were people I would like to meet again. There were also people I couldn't care less about. Those majority of people whom I didn't tell fell into the latter category. Who cares.
I felt neither sad nor happy.
I didn't feel relief nor did I cry.
I felt nothing.
How to sum up my 2 months and 9 days there? A second national service. Lol.
Did I regret it? No. No I didn't. I had awesome tutorial mates who ignored the lecturer in front and crowded outside to send me off. I had a super-nice roommate who walked through the rain to send me an umbrella when I'd forgotten to bring it. I had friends I know now I could always count on.
But Jo was right. I am, as what she always calls me, manja. I will always be.

Phase III of 2007, ended.

I Love You Dad

Walk a little slower daddy
Because I'm following your footsteps

Ever since I was small, I looked up to my dad. Like every other kid, he was my hero. I wanted to be like him. He was always there. He was there when I threw tantrums and refused to go to school. He was there when I called him to fetch me at school because I refused to use the school's toilet. He was there finishing my incomplete homework early in the morning, and I went to school and got praises for it. He was there during every school break, sending me home-made food and accompanying me because I didn't want to eat at the canteen. He was there during my very first crazed for books, bringing me to Belle's, handing me a basket and asked me to put anything in it.
Then he got transferred. I was in primary 6.
As I grew older, I got used to him not being there. I started to view him in a different way. I started to notice his flaws. I started to see he's only human. That he's imperfect, and that he too, had his cons. I started to think that maybe I didn't want to be like him after all.
Fetching him from the airport every weekend was a routine. I would accompany mum every Friday night, 7 pm flight, and send him off again every Sunday night for his 9 pm flight. I didn't know whether it was me being me, or it's just the way things were but I started to shut him from my life. He wasn't there anymore. Everytime he asked about my studies or details about my life, I'd feel irked. I felt he was interfering, butting in where he shouldn't. He was away and so he didn't need to know. But no matter what, Dad was always being dad. He'd try to make up for what I'd missed during the weekdays, constantly trying to smooth things out as they once were. As always, that was never enough.
As time passed by, I began to understand why things were as they were. He was away because he was trying to provide us with a better life. He was away because he would never took away what we already had here. Our lives, our friends, our memories. He was away because he was our Dad.
Life after form 5 was something I'd looked forward to. Because I thought, then, I wouldn't have to depend too much on him. I didn't want to. I was wrong.
When I broke down and cried, he was the one who consoled me. When I skipped a lecture, he told me it was okay. When I told him I didn't want to be a burden to him, he told me not to be ridiculous.

"If you don't want to study there, then I'll bring you home. You're my daughter and I love you. You're always welcome here. There are always other alternatives,"

How could I forget what he had said? A daughter who was miserable and cried on the phone wanting to go home, that was me. After all I've done. And he didn't even get mad.
Someone who understands my passion, he understands the way I lead my life. He let me do my own errors. He told me it's okay to fail. He pushes me in the right direction. He taught me to dream big, to leave all the feelings behind and focused on what's important. What Dad says goes. Because I know he's right.
I learned that it's okay to depend on him. It's safe, because I know he would never let me down as I've let him down countless of times. He would never deserted me. He would never walked away. I learned that I needn't be cautious around him. I don't need to act. I don't need to pretend. He may not know me as well as my friends do, but I know that to him, I'll always be his little princess. As I always was. And for that, nothing else matters.
But I couldn't say all these to him. I want, more than anything else, to tell him how thankful I am, for all he has done for me. That he's the reason I'm still able to hold on. To say to him that I love him more than life itself. I couldn't. I would never be able to.
I love you dad.

Only

It's the most wonderful feeling in the world.
When you know you're cared for
When you know you're listened to
When a tear beats the sun down
When genuinity sails the rock
When what seems far is actually near
But what's near could seem so far.

It's when you hold on to your faith.
Keep it, and preach it.

A star on a vast of dark skies

I am broken. Inside and out, it shows. Beyond mending. I don't know what to think, I don't know what I should do. Of the things I've said, but I couldn't do. I couldn't accomplish them. I've lost it. What I fear the most, I lost it. I would never be able to retrieve it back. I lost. I lost to life. I lost to myself.
But I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't pretend things are okay. I couldn't bring myself to smile. I couldn't continue acting. I couldn't lie to anyone anymore. That I'm brave. That I could face it. Because I'm not. Because I couldn't. I feel I couldn't continue living anymore. I couldn't see anything ahead of me. For once, I'm at lost.
I couldn't remember the last time I really laughed. I couldn't remember being happy. A minute. Let me be happy without any worry. Let me laugh as if there's no tomorrow. Till my stomach hurts, till tears run down my face. Just a minute. That's all I ask.
But it's not possible.
If I were to be granted one wish, I wanted to start this year all over again. Back to January. Back to when all the decisions weren't made. Back to when I still believed in myself. Back to when I still knew who I was.
Let me be a shell. Let me be a human without any feeling. Because I don't want to feel anything ever again. I couldn't take anything anymore. As the days passed, I became more fragile. It was when I slept, and I prayed I wouldn't have to wake up the next morning. It was when I was almost hit by a car, and Rina pulled me back, and I wished she didn't. I wished she would let the car hit me. But debts. Remembering I still have debts with God, remembering I still owed my parents, I lived. That's what I told myself. I couldn't give up on life, whatever happens. I couldn't.
Everything I've said, I blew it. I couldn't do it. I failed.
I'm going to start things all over again. No matter how long it'll take, how hard. That's all that's left. And for that, I must continue fighting. Fight for what I want.
Despite that,
Mum and Dad,
I'm sorry. I really am.
I'm sorry.

Every Last Night

Every last night. This is what I would feel.

It's not missing home. It's not waking up on another bed in another room. It's not not hanging out with my old crowd. Like a curse, the feeling of losing something. The unability to grasp it for life. It was then, when the world was spinning and the people in it were moving, laughing, talking merrily. I was lost in the middle of all those. People rushed passed by but I couldn't follow their tunes. I couldn't reach towards them. In that crowdedness, I was the only one who halted. All I could do was watched, and trying hard not to fall. Not to be stepped on. But I just stood there. I couldn't bring myself to move. Closing my eyes, hoping when I opened them, things would slow down.
The pace that I walked, the minutes that I used.

Fluffy and fluffy? That is so my thing.

What am I doing here in my yukata, sipping a vitagen while typing a post when I should be taking a bath?
I need to cool myself; physically and mentally.
Ha!

I woke up this morning with a rare headache. The clock spelled 9.16 am. Shoot. I missed my L2B. As intended. Bwahaha. Lazy ^_^ Maybe next hols. Dumbfoundedly, I staggered ouside, just on time because my parents just got back from their morning stroll (ugh?). A quick chat and I went back inside and found Zatyfaty's lying on her bed, playing with her hp andddd

"Get up! We're giving the rabbits a bath this morning."

The mission: To cleanse and purify SIX rabbits from germs and bacterias a.k.a giving them a bath. Duh.


The items needed: 3 pails of hot water, their "bath tub", shampoo, huge towels, a hairdryer.

Here's how giving them a bath works:

1. Transfer one of the rabbits from the cage into the huge seramic pot- the "bath tub" which I stubbornly claimed belong to my rabbits and not my mum. You want to plant plants in it, you'll have to buy another one ;)

2. Shampoo + hot water. Scrub scrub scrub.

3. Wrap he/she in a huge towel (because they're huge themselves) and give he/she to Zatyfaty.

4. The blow-drying + combing.

5. Repeat step 1-4 with the other 5 rabbits.

Overall, it took 2 hours. Last time it only took an hour but since, there're 3 x 2= 6 rabbits now, everything was doubled. The hot water, the shampoo, the time.
That's not only it, collaborating with a diva made it harder.

" I don't wanna get wet!" That was what she said when I handed her a rabbit to blow-dry *eyebrows arched*

When you're bathing rabbits, you're bound to get wet. There's no I-don't-want-to-get-wet silliness. Besides, who wore a yellow DIESEL baby-tee with a stupid strawberry in front of it matched with grey cropped leggings when they're doing that kind of work huh? *roll eyes*
You wear an old t-shirt and a tracksuit, like me. You don't wear Diesel my dear. Nothing could beat the smile on my face when she was splashed by water by one of the rabbits. Hah. And I thought I was supposed to be the diva in this house. How wrong I was.

After the whole bathing thing, I let them out for a while. Some people might wonder, why let them out after they've bathed? Won' t they just get dirty again?
Ahhh. If I let them out before I bathed them, then catching them again would be an even harder task. Bathed a rabbit then paused for a while to catch the next one. 6 times of pausing. Hard work aite? Besides, a rabbit is suppose to get dirty. They're suppose to play with the dirt, and get splashed with mud. They're suppose to feel the rain and stuff like that. They're not suppose to be kept in a cage, shaded from the sun and rain, sparklingly clean. Haih.
Oh yea, Yuko behaved well *proud smile*
Okay, so he scratched my wrist deep enough, it bled but when I lost my temper and raised my voice at him,

"Yuko! Stay still! Shame on you!"

he obediently laid still on the grass and let me put him in his cage. Good boy.

Counting The Sand

This old feeling, I've missed it a lot.

Zatyfaty, as I call her

Mum and her

One of the few pics I have with my sis

Both are mine

Times spend with these people, I love.

Candid

Me, Ctah, Asylla, Fara

A pose, from Fara and Ctah

Asylla, as she refers to herself, 'mpuan kacak' :P

Asy and Me

At last, Edwin agreed to pose for a pic

When Terey bowled

When Edwin bowled

When Ctah bowled

::Ctah during her seleyheness moments::

Due to my respect for Ctah, I posted this pic :P

::Handphone's camera fight with Terey::

The outcome: He won.

The reason(s): Obviously he had longer hands and that phone of his suddenly popped out of nowhere.

A Title, For The Untitled

How do you judge a blog?
You don't.

In the past, before I posted an entry, I used to think; what would people say when they read this? I wrote for people. I wrote so people could judge. Then I thought, that's not how a blog should work. Shouldn't it? We don't write what people want to read. We don't search for the proper words.
We write the pictures.
We write the feelings.
We write the unseen.
Those are what make a blog, a blog. We're free to write what we want regardless of what people say. It doesn't have to be deep. It doesn't have to be meaningful. It doesn't have to be beautiful.
It could just be plain. It could just be simple. It's allow to be ugly. We're not all flowers. Sometimes weeds do grow. Sometimes the flowers do die. Then they'll grow back and the process repeats itself all over again.
Bloggers, don't go for praises. I'm not trying to win the Pulitzer prize. I'm not aiming for the Nobel Prize in Literature. I'm not writing to sell. I don't write so people would be awed and impressed. I don't need hundreds of thousands of viewers and readers.
I write simply to interpret myself in words.

I forgot how going through stuff works. I forgot it's not simply dividing your belongings into two piles; the wanted, and the junk. You're bound to pause and remember. You're bound to laugh, and smile and cry. You're bound to wonder and ask unanswered questions. All those, you would do. As I looked at certain photos, as I read certain things, I asked myself; Did I know this and that would happen? Somehow, did I? Could I have possibly thought of those?
No, I didn't. And no, I couldn't have.
I was so young, so innocent, so naive. We all were when we're still in diapers.
These things happen don't they?
Looking at things, I know I would spend a big part of my life trying to be someone I'm not. I know I'm going to spend an even bigger part of it trying to find who I am again. Those, when I'll think of them in the future, at least I'll know I've thought of them in the past.


*rabbits squeaked at 2.23 am for food ^_^*


Duty awaits.

Just So I Wouldn't Cry

I............

am a schmuck. I am a putz. I am a moron.
Why?
Haha. Because I am. In the simplest word of words, I really am. In the deepest and most complicated sentences, I still am. Actions justify a person don't they? Actions justify me. Words do nothing, they mean nothing. They're so easy to manipulate, and I idiotically am so easy to believe them, I don't trust them anymore. Look at the ending, actions concluded it all. Look at the ending, it's the actions that hurt us. Words..they could easily mean something else aite? We say what we don't mean; we rarely do what we don't mean.

Trust, faith, believing.

Those words are something to us humans. They're in our everyday dictionary. Spoken, acted, meant. Yet it's still so hard to have them. I know, because I don't. Not anymore. I want to, but I just don't. If I could pick out the values I could have and feel...but I couldn't. Sadly, I couldn't.
Last time, I was so ready to admit I was strong. Inside and out, that's what I tried to potray. Was I? I don't know. Does not crying make you that? I cried once. Really cried. That's when I admitted crying was a real relief because I did feel relieved. 400 people were watching but I didn't care. I didn't give a damn. I just cried. It's not like I was gonna see any of them again anyway. The other one time when I did cry, was when my grandpa died. That was different. I practically choked trying to hold the tears back. My lung gasped for air, and I had to hold on to the table so I could support myself. So I could stand strong, for those who weren't. But that night, I cried to sleep. I felt weak. To succumb to my emotion, I felt weak.

From someone who didn't believe, I once did. Then I don't anymore. Just like that.