Philosophical cow dung on the life of little Ms. Imperfectly Fine.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Tell Me by ANH Raffali Act 3

Act 3.

Scene : CASEY is having dinner with JOE in the restaurant. There’s a round table for two, they are both sitting opposite each other.

JOE : So she’s telling him how she feels?

CASEY : Well, at least that’s what we talked about. Knowing her, you just don’t know what to expect. One second she’d be this sturdy rock of determination, the next she’d be putting her arm on her forehead and swoon in defeat.

JOE : It’s ‘the Mikail effect’, I know. I’ve seen it too many times not to believe it actually exists.

CASEY : Oh, I know him almost as long as Nurul, he doesn’t have any effect on me.

JOE : Baby, that’s just because you saw me first.

CASEY : Really? So, are you saying that ‘the Joe effect’ is much more potent? I’m surprise that you don’t have a trail of admirers following you around.

JOE : Oh, that’s just because they are afraid of ‘the Casey effect’.

CASEY : Oh, they better run. (Laughs.) You want to know something, I’m glad that you are your honest you.

JOE : I think I know where this is leading but I’ll bite the bait anyway. What do you mean by that?

CASEY : Well, wouldn’t it be cruel if you’re exactly like Mikail?

JOE : Come on, he’s not so bad as you think. In fact, he’s not bad at all.

CASEY : I’m not saying that he’s bad. But, he’s giving her unnecessary hope, which is bad for her because the only way she will learn from it is when he finally breaks her heart.

JOE : Mikail has no intention of hurting her.

CASEY : Yeah, but he’s already hurting her with all the expectation; she’s practically obsessed with him. I hate seeing her like that, I hate seeing her so helplessly hopeful.

JOE : At least, we can be there for her, to offer anything. Comfort, support.

CASEY : But if only there was something more we could do. Maybe, if I go and talk to Mikail and find out what he’s about, then…

JOE : You know she wouldn’t want that.

CASEY : Well, if it helps, why not?

JOE : What if it’ll only make it worse?

CASEY : I don’t know. I keep telling her that perhaps he’s just not worth it. Maybe, she deserves someone better, someone who would appreciate her and doesn’t take her for granted.

JOE : What makes you think that he’s taking her for granted?

CASEY : How can he not know how she feels? Why is he ignoring it?

JOE : Maybe he doesn’t know what she wants. Maybe, he just can’t give it to her. It could be as simple as that.

CASEY : Oh come on! He might be physically blind, but you can close your eyes and still take notice of what is going on. It’s not like he can’t hear her.

JOE : Casey, you can’t put the blame on him. He’s not doing anything wrong.

CASEY : He’s not doing anything right either.

JOE : I know how you feel. I’ve known him for years and years and still I can’t figure him out.

CASEY : Joe, when you look at them, they have so many things in common; it’s like they are too perfect for each other. Whenever you see them together, you just know that they are happy. If only he could see that.

JOE : Maybe he does, but that’s just as far as it goes. Maybe he’s accepting it as it is, not more, and not less.

CASEY : What do you mean?

JOE : How should I explain this to you? Has Mikail ever told you why he’s like that, how he got to be blind? Did Nurul ever ask him?

CASEY : No, not that I know of.

JOE : Well, guess if I tell you it wouldn’t change anything.

CASEY : You mean to say that it wasn’t from birth?

JOE : No. A couple of years ago he was in a very horrible automobile accident. He suffered several injuries to the spinal cord and he was paralyzed for a long time. Doctors said that it would be a miracle for him to walk again. And it was.

CASEY : What does being paralyzed have to do with his eyes?

JOE : Nothing. His eyes were perfectly fine.

CASEY : So what happened?

JOE : He was not alone in the car, Casey. His girlfriend, his ex-girlfriend now, was in it as well. Her condition was not as bad as his; she had several broken bones. But her eyes, glass splinters scarred them during the crash.

CASEY : Are you saying that he traded his eyes for her?

JOE : Yeah, he opted for a cornea transplant.

CASEY : Why?

JOE : I asked him that once, why he did it and if it was worth it, especially after she left him.

CASEY : She left him? That bi! I’m sorry, what did he say?

JOE : He said that he did it because he wanted her to be happy and his sacrifice would mean that she wouldn’t be bitter anymore.

CASEY : Was she bitter because she lost her sight?

JOE : I supposed she was. She couldn’t accept it. She blamed him.

CASEY : What for?

JOE : He was the one who was driving the car.

CASEY : Oh, my… But, suppose it wasn’t his fault.

JOE : It wasn’t.

CASEY : Then why?

JOE : I don’t know, Casey.

CASEY : How did he take her leaving? He must have been devastated.

JOE : Actually, he told me once that he didn’t expect her to stay with him that long. She was always ambitious and driven, always wanting more.

CASEY : What made her stick around then?

JOE : Guilt, maybe. But, he knew that she couldn’t possibly want to. The break was a mutual decision. He couldn’t make her happy; she no longer wanted him so they let go of each other?

CASEY : That’s so terrible. Didn’t she have any love for him?

JOE : It’s ugly the way hearts change. But, you can’t blame her for wanting to be happy. If she thinks that Mikail couldn’t guarantee that, it’s her right. You have the right to be happy.

CASEY : God… But, he gave up his eyes for her. How is he? Do you think he’s happy?

JOE : The last time I checked, he thinks he is.

CASEY : Well, he has to be. Someone with that big a heart should be. I didn’t know he’s capable of that unconditional sacrifice. He must have really loved her.

JOE : Yes, I believe so.

CASEY : Do you think that’s why he’s not doing anything?

JOE : About Nurul?

CASEY : Yeah, if he’s not over the ex yet, that could be a reason.

JOE : Maybe… But not once did I hear him complain or regret about the past.

CASEY : Never?

JOE : Never. It amazes me how he accepts everything that has happened with ease, like he knows the reason behind everything. I’m not surprise if he actually does.

CASEY : So, he’s taking it as it is.

JOE : Are you getting what I mean?

CASEY : He accepts Nurul as she is, always being nice not because he expects anything from her, but because he wants to. Like his eyes, he really wanted his ex to have them.

JOE : Exactly.

CASEY : You want to know something. I’m glad you told me this. At least, I’m beginning to see what Nurul must have seen in him all this while.

JOE : Oh, no. I can see ‘the Mikail effect’ at work already. Not again. Damn, I should have kept my mouth shut.

CASEY : (Laughs.) Relax, baby. I’m not falling for him. Nurul would kill me if I do. Being dead wouldn’t be much fun now, would it?

JOE : Worse, she might deliberately fall for me and become obsessed to get back at you. Then, I would be torn to choose from making my girl happy by making her girl happy, to making my girl happy by not making her girl happy.

CASEY : Baby, you’re not making any sense.

JOE : Love is not about making sense.

CASEY : Oh, what is it about then?

JOE : It’s about making the most out of the time we have together. And if it includes talking about nonsense, then heck lets think of things that doesn’t make any sense.

CASEY : Think of things that doesn’t make sense. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing all along?

JOE : Nonsense!

CASEY : (Laughs.) I think you’re crazy.

JOE : I think I love you.

CASEY : I love you too and that’s even crazier.

Lights fade out.

dream a little dream of me

I had a dream that I was walking through a flea market. I'm not sure what I was looking for, maybe I wasn't looking for anything but I somehow knew that I was there for a reason. I stopped at a shop selling old and used books. There wasn't any title that I was familiar with nor were there many books to choose from. But a name caught my eye and if there was any doubt in me that this was not a dream, it instantly went away.

This was a dream, and like all dreams its content may not be at all factual, only a representation of what might be. I picked up the book with a sense of odd familiarity, like it was a lost old friend. I read through the first few lines and realized that I was in love with that person, not just then but all this while. I knew him for everything that he is and everything that he could be. I knew him by heart.

The world of the flea market vanished. There was only me and the book that contained the secret of my heart's desire, floating in a vacuum, isolated from anything that could sway me from what I knew I had to do. I had to read the book; I had to know whether I was in it.

Perhaps, in truth I already knew what I would find. But like every course of tragedy, the poison must be drank, the chest must be stabbed, and so the book must be read. It was a beautiful book written about a beautiful person, someone that I grew to adore and fell in love with like I acquired the taste for bitter chocolate, delightfully strange and sinfully intoxicating. But this man thinks he is incapable of loving anyone and that includes me.

I know in his heart he is so full of love to share but my knowledge has no voice that could reach his senses. This man didn't know what to do with my love. I can't blame him. I wouldn't know what to do with his anyway. But I figure that it should be something that could be worked on later. What matters is that we have what we've always wanted. A love that affirms everything we believe in and acknowledges everything we are as individuals.

I knew that this was only a dream and that I should always take everything I taste with a pinch of salt. But I have always believed in my strong sense of intuition, and I knew that the purpose of this dream was to wake me up.

The book told me everything that I already know and more than I would want to find out. It's silly when I think of it now that I could no longer remember what it is that bothered me so much that I'm prepared to give it up. Perhaps it's not really the details but the mere truth that I am not a part of his life. I read funny anecdotes by a few good friends, love letters by a string of ex-lovers, stories that made up his life as it was, but nothing at all coming from me. It's as if in his book, I don't exist.

I had a hard time getting out of bed, but I did. I don't want to be in love with him anymore. I don't want to be in love with anyone that refuses to allow himself to fall for me. But the question is, was it by choice that of all the people in this world, it was him that I am in love with? If it was, then it would be so easy to choose for all the dreaming to end. He certainly made it so easy to choose not to even dream of the idea me.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Tell Me by ANH Raffali Act 2

Act 2

Scene : MIKAIL is sitting, waiting patiently on a bench in the park. He has his headphones on and seems to be concentrating on the song. NURUL enters and tiptoes behind him. She puts her hands on his shoulders and gave it a squeeze.

NURUL : Hey, there! (MIKAIL almost jumps, takes off his headphones.)

MIKAIL : I’ll give you thirty years.

NURUL : For what?

MIKAIL : To do that, before I die of a heart attack.

NURUL : Thirty years? I’ll give you a lifetime.

MIKAIL : For what?

NURUL : To haunt me, after you’ve died from a heart attack.

MIKAIL : It’s a deal.

NURUL : (Laughs.) How long have you been here?

MIKAIL : Long enough.

NURUL : I’m sorry for being late.

MIKAIL : I bet not as sorry as I am for being early.

NURUL : Oh, you know me.

MIKAIL : Yes, I do. Well enough at least to skip the part for the excuse.

NURUL : Great, because I don’t have one.

MIKAIL : Are you telling me that you’re late because of nothing.

NURUL : That doesn’t make sense, does it?

MIKAIL : No, it doesn’t. But it’s fresh. Guess it happens sometimes.

NURUL : What happens sometimes?

MIKAIL : Things, you don’t know why they happen, they just do. You being fashionably late for instance. No excuse, you’re just late.

NURUL : Hmm… Being your philosophical self, I see. Or is it because you don’t like waiting.

MIKAIL : Oh, I love waiting. Actually, I prefer to wait, wait and wait again. I’m becoming more and more good at it. I’ll probably write a book on the art of waiting. Maybe I should find a more catchy title, how about “Ladies, in waiting.”

NURUL : Great, another book for dummies?

MIKAIL : No, more like the memoirs of a patient man.

NURUL : I really am sorry, you know. It’s not like I purposely made you wait. It’s not like I don’t know how dumb it is to wait for someone.

MIKAIL : Apology accepted.

NURUL : You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?

MIKAIL : What?

NURUL : I bet you enjoy seeing me feel bad about it.

MIKAIL : No, I don’t enjoy seeing you feel bad about anything.

NURUL : Then why are you being all sarcastic about it?

MIKAIL : Oh, you shouldn’t feel bad about that, I consist of sarcasm and hot air.

NURUL : You’re impossible.

MIKAIL : You know now that’s not possible.

NURUL : Why, because there’s this cliché that tells you that nothing is?

MIKAIL : Yup, the reason why we use clichés all the time is because more often than not, they are true.

NURUL : So, are you going to write a book on clichés now?

MIKAIL : Maybe, but only after I listen to your new song.

NURUL : Oh, Mikail, with all the waiting and hot air, I thought you might not remember that I sing, even more to have a new song.

MIKAIL : With a voice like that, it’s hardly I’ll ever forget, Nurul.

NURUL : Liar. You’re just saying that to make me feel good.

MIKAIL : You don’t want to believe me or you don’t want me to make you feel good?

NURUL : What’s makes you think it’s either one? (She takes out her guitar and sings. When she sings, she lets out her emotions, but MIKAIL doesn’t seem to take notice.)


MIKAIL : Wow. That’s… amazing. Sad, like all of your songs, but somewhat hopeful, which is different.

NURUL : Thank you. It means a lot.

MIKAIL : I can see that. I mean it really shows. Well, it does sound like your very best. I love it.

NURUL : Really? I’m glad. … Hey, Mikail… There’s something important I wanted to talk to you about.

MIKAIL : Is something wrong?

NURUL : Well, I hope it’s not. Umm… I don’t know why but… Umm… I can’t even explain it. I think… I think… (MIKAIL’s phone rings.)

MIKAIL : Hold that thought. (He picks it up.) Hello. Hey! Umm… Actually, I’m in the middle of something. Oh, is it urgent? Really? Well, I guess I can try. Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Bye. I’m sorry, Nurul. You were saying…

NURUL : Oh, umm… Where was I?

MIKAIL : You were thinking.

NURUL : Oh, yes I was. Been doing that a lot recently.

MIKAIL : Really? I can’t tell. (She playfully pinches him.) Oww… You’re strong.

NURUL : So you’ve noticed! Umm… I was saying that I think, I think that this would not be a good time to talk about it.

MIKAIL : Are you sure? Because if you’re worried about the call, I think I can be fashionably late as well. Try, at least.

NURUL : No, you should go. It’s not good to make people wait for you. You might develop a habit out of it and turn into me.


NURUL : (Laughs.) Go on, we’ll plan something later.

MIKAIL : Are you really, really sure?

NURUL : Of course I am. Do you want some help getting your bum off that bench?

MIKAIL : Nope, I’m capable of moving my bum perfectly on my own, thank you. Unless, you get a kick out of moving my bum?

NURUL : Why a kick? Do you consider yourself deserving of a slap?

MIKAIL : Ouch… I’ll behave.

NURUL : (Laughs.) You better.

MIKAIL : (He takes out his blind man-staff and stands up.) I’m really sorry. Take care alright. (He holds out his hand, she takes it and gives it a gentle tender squeeze.)

NURUL : Same here. (MIKAIL leaves. NURUL watches him go.)

Light fades out.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

paint me

EDITED: 9/3/08

paint me with only black and white
my colors have ran away in fright
i am a faint shadow in your light
the red in my veins that you have drained
has left me empty
so that you can have me

sing me with the breath that you've stolen
from my lips, betrayed my lungs, swollen
i am smaller than dust and i have fallen
into the sands in the cup of your hands
let me sift between each finger
so that you'd feel my touch linger

since i am yours to take
let me be yours to break
and i am yours to take
for i am yours

write me with words you seldom spoke of
my rules have no more use next to your love
i am push and pull, heave and shove
cut these strings that bind my wings
i'll fly to the sea
once you are there for me

since i am yours to take
let me be yours to break
and i am yours to take
for i am yours
i am yours
i am yours

Words and music by Ana Raffali (anaraffali muzik ent.)

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Tell Me by ANH Raffali Act 1

Act 1

Scene : The space acts as a living room. A two-seater sofa rests at the center, one-seater sofa is next to it, plus a coffee table. A shelf filled with CDs and books lined the wall behind the sofa. NURUL is using the coffee table while writing vigorously on her notepad, once or twice she looks into clear space, lost in thought. She silently mouths out words, as if to test them out. Suddenly, she breaks out of her trance-like state, finishes off her writing with a satisfied smile. Afterwards, she looks around, searching for something. She stands up, looking under the cushions. CASEY enters.

CASEY : Nurul, what are you doing?

NURUL : Have you seen my phone?

CASEY : Where was the last time you used it?

NURUL : Here. Somewhere here. (She gestures everywhere.)

CASEY : (She notices the phone lying on the coffee table.) Have you tried looking for it?

NURUL : That’s what I’m doing.

CASEY : No, have you tried looking?

NURUL : Hello, I’m looking.

CASEY : Oh, let me help. (She takes out her own phone, dials a number. The phone rings.)

NURUL : Oh, there it is. Thanks, Casey. Funny, I didn’t see it there.

CASEY : Yeah, it was practically screaming for your attention.

NURUL : Hey, hey, I’m over here, you dumb ass! (Laughs dryly.) I’m not feeling so well, maybe I’m sick.

CASEY : You better go to the clinic.

NURUL : Yeah, I should go see a doctor, get my eyes and my head checked.

CASEY : Well, maybe you should.

NURUL : Hold on a sec. (She dials a number on the phone, looking nervous and excited. She waits, hopeful. Her face slowly changes by the second, disappointed. She shakes her head, hit a button.)

CASEY : Mikail, huh? (They exchange knowing looks.) Don’t worry; he always calls back, right?

NURUL : Right. (She sits down on the two-seater sofa.) I hate to think of the day when he doesn’t.

CASEY : Hey, we talked about that a million times already. It’ll be his lost.

NURUL : Yeah, right.

CASEY : (She sits on the one-seater sofa.) Sometimes, I wonder what in the world you see in him that’s turning you into some lovesick schoolgirl.

NURUL : Oh, you won’t be the first. Welcome to the club.

CASEY : No, thanks. As much as I enjoy your company, honey, I don’t want to be in the same boat as you.

NURUL : Why not? We could go fishing? Or swimming, snorkeling perhaps?

CASEY : Don’t change the subject. It’s not healthy, you know, what you’re doing.

NURUL : What am I doing?

CASEY : I don’t know. This! You’re being too hopeful about it. You’re only going to get yourself hurt when it doesn’t work out the way you want it.

NURUL : What am I suppose to do then?

CASEY : Stop hoping, or start forgetting.

NURUL : Anything else?

CASEY : I hate to remind this to you, Nurul. But, it’s no use harping on how much you are so in love with the guy when he doesn’t seem to have any idea that you do. Because if he does, don’t you think he would have done something about it? He likes you, yes, but that’s just about it.

NURUL : I get your point, Casey. It’s just that, I can’t give up. I just can’t let go of the possibility that there might be something more.

CASEY : Then, do yourself and all of us a favor; go tell him what you want. Spill the contents of your heart out. God knows, you should have done it sooner.

NURUL : Oh, I wish it was that easy. Hey, Mikail, what’s up! Good, that’s good. By the way, I have something very important to tell you. Actually, I… The thing is, I… Oh, I can’t even say it. Casey, help me! Go get a gun and put me out of my misery. Maybe I need to shut myself up for good.

CASEY : Hmm… Tempting… Who knows, that would actually bring me peace. But, no, I can’t possibly. What would I do without your constant depressing ramblings to make me feel good about myself?

NURUL : (Laughs.) Start watching soap operas, at least that’s where this story would fit in. Don’t you think my life would be a great inspiration for drama?

CASEY : Not if I’m in it and I start canoodling (ehem ehem) with any relatives like your cousin’s sister’s husband’s brother.

NURUL : What, Alfie?

CASEY : Don’t start.

NURUL : Okay, okay.

CASEY : Hey, you have plans for later?

NURUL : Well, yeah… No, not yet.

CASEY : Which one is it?

NURUL : I was planning on planning something with Mikail.

CASEY : I see. So what is it that you’re planning on planning with Mikail? You’re meeting him up?

NURUL : That’s the plan. I finished writing the lyrics to a new song. So, I want him to check it out.

CASEY : Oh, great! Can I have a sneak preview?

NURUL : Sure. (She hands her the notepad and walks to get her guitar by the shelf.)

CASEY : What is it about? No, let me guess. (She closes her eyes as if in meditation.) I see a girl standing before a guy, the girl is unbuttoning her cream colored blouse and the guy seems to be enjoying himself.

NURUL : Enjoying himself? What kind of a vision are you having?

CASEY : Shh… You’re disrupting my transmission. I see her putting her right hand over her heart. She’s digging her nails into her chest. Oh my God, she’s sinking her fingers into the flesh. Oh, she’s pulling her heart out. What’s this? She’s giving it to him; she’s putting her wet scarlet heart into his slippery hands. All bloody and still beating.

NURUL : Ewe… Gross!

CASEY : You always had a vivid imagination.

NURUL : Oh, you’re good at giving me nightmares.

CASEY : Well?

NURUL : Well what?

CASEY : Is it about that?

NURUL : Some horror B-movie? Of course not.

CASEY : Oh, you know what I meant by it.

NURUL : So? Do I have to say it? You know me well enough.

CASEY : No, honey, you are see-through. Anybody who doesn’t know how you feel is either stupid or blind or stupid and blind.

NURUL : (Laughs, bitterly.) Isn’t that funny?

CASEY : Cheer up! (She reads the notepad.) Play.

NURUL : Sure. (She starts testing the sound of the guitar. After a few strums, suddenly her phone rings. She stops, for a quick moment, she relishes the sound.) Hey, Mikail! How’s it going? Yeah, I called. No, nothing important. Umm… Actually, I finish the song and thought you might want to have a listen. Really? I’m free later as well. Okay, I’ll catch you later. Okay, bubby!

CASEY : Nurul, if this is how it reads, I can’t wait to hear how it sounds.

NURUL : Well, I guess you just have to. I have to get myself ready. (Stands up.)

CASEY : I think you should have this recorded. Do an album or something.

NURUL : This plus my other hundred songs. An album? Who would buy it? Okay, I bet three people will. You, my mom and… Make that two. Heck, I won’t even buy it myself.

CASEY : But you just can’t let something this good be wasted. I bet there are plenty of good recording companies out there just dying to hear your songs.

NURUL : Really? The last time I checked, they are living pretty well off without me.

CASEY : I’m serious.

NURUL : Casey, it’s not that I don’t want to. In fact, I would really love to. Be on stage with my guitar, singing my songs, blowing kisses to the fans. But hey, I have that already.

CASEY : Your Friday night performances in that open-stage are nothing. You deserve something bigger. You deserve a singing contract with a top label, a big fan club.

NURUL : So, go on, start a big fan club for me.

CASEY : I told you already, I don’t want to be in the same club as you. But, that’s not the point. What are you afraid of?

NURUL : Oh, lots of things. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough to go professional. I’m afraid I’m just going to be another one-hit wonder. I’m afraid that one day the truth would hit me in the face to tell me that I can’t sing.

CASEY : But you can sing, and you can write beautiful songs. What more does it take to make it?

NURUL : Time. Lots and lots of it. Of which I don’t have at the moment. I have to go and get ready. I have a feeling that I’m going to be late.

CASEY : Alright, I’ll pressure you into agreement some other time.

NURUL : Thanks! (She leaves.)

CASEY : (She looks at the notepad again, sets it down, takes out her phone and dials a number.) Hello… hey baby. Nothing’s up. I just wanted to hear your voice. Yes, I’m alright and no, I haven’t been knocked on the head recently. I just wanted to hear your voice. (Laughs.) Well, now that I’ve heard it and convinced that it’s pretty much the same, I’ll leave you to your work, okay? Umm… Baby, I love you. Yeah, I know. Alright, I’ll see you soon. Bye, babe.

Light fades out.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

wish i could draw

Alas, that's probably one of the things I don't mind admitting I'm not good at. My drawing skills are only limited to orang lidi (stick people) and abstract versions of daily objects. I survived my art classes during my school days with the help of my mom and my bros and sis.

But I do love art in general. I always try to find the opportunity to visit galleries, be it to view paintings or photography. And I must say I could never really decide on between the two, which I like best.

I like the fact that since a painter has full control of what comes out on the canvas; he is able to translate his thoughts and ideas directly. Every line, every color, every single item is purposeful. I feel that for me to look at a painting and realize the intention of the painter would be an achievement for both Mr. Painter and I. however, bear in mind that some realizations are based upon assumptions which might not necessarily hit the mark but who cares since most of the time the painter is not there to defend himself.

Photography, as my friend would say "instant painting", captures moments of perfection. I’m using the word perfection here to describe a particular situation that is deemed to be as good as it can possibly be, where everything is exactly in its place. A photographer records memories,
sometimes ideas and thoughts.

I have always wanted to incorporate the two. I have discussed this with my photographer friend, of building a painting and capturing it through the lens. Where every line, every color, every single item is purposeful to create little meanings when put together it becomes the bigger picture. hehe.. I can't resist saying that but what I mean is a photograph that is loaded with clues that must be deciphered so that the message or its intention is acquired.

I know I am thinking like a story teller who drops hints as to whom the killer is, purposely placing the protagonist in difficult situations to make the story more interesting. Old habits die hard.

Anyway, I still wish I could draw though. I bought oil pastels to relive my childhood days of drawing dead solitary trees locked on the greenest of grass featuring calm or turbulent seas, huge mountains, and indecisive skies.

I kinda felt a little embarrassed when my 4 year old nephew, Nabil looked at the picture adoringly, idolizing it. He decided to do a cover version of the drawing.

At least he got the colors correct. "macam sama kan auntie Ana?". Yup, you got that right, sayang...

Friday, October 19, 2007

i'm unwell, thank you

my little nephew, Aidil is having the flu. like most kids his age which is approaching three this 28th, he hates taking his medicine. i personally agree to this dislike of modern medication, i hate the stuff. however, i do think that it's a necessary evil therefore like it or not, one has to swallow.

i heartily took upon the challenge of convincing Aidil to eat his reddish liquid flu medicine. i asked him why he doesn't want to have it. he rolled his eyes and said "tak sedap!". i am well aware that the only tasty prescription coming from a doctor is those chewable tablets of vitamin c. this particular medicine i was selling to my nephew is not at all de-lish.

so i thought, why not get him to swallow the stuff and use sweet tasty gummies as some sort of a mouthwash, to get rid of that bitter yucky taste. i told him this as he was innocently lying on the sofa. he listened attentively and then said "nanti adik muntah lagi". Oh, so his previous experience with the drug saw his body rejecting it violently. now, isn't that a problem...

enthusiastically, possibly like an insurance salesman, i assured him that he didn't have to worry about anything. since last time he didn't have those tasty gummies to help get rid of the bad taste, this time would be better. Aidil wasn't buying it though. i decided to do a demo of my bitter-medicine-taking strategy. i poured the littlest amount of the syrup and swallowed it with a smile that quickly changed into a frown. believe me, i quickly welcomed the gummies more gratefully than i thought i ever would.

a little convinced, Aidil decided to give it a try. i told him to get ready to stuff the gummies into his mouth as soon as i spoon him the syrup. i pushed the bowl of gummies nearer to him knowing that he might need more than a mere handful.

my sense of pride at having influenced him to take his medicine lasted less than 10 seconds. before he could even finish chewing a gummy, he was vomiting the content of his stomach right into the bowl filled with the other gummies. i gave up. i resorted into keeping his hair wet to lower down the temperature, he hates having damp cloth on his head.

from this memorable event, i learned that you can't really fool anybody with your optimistic idealism.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007


I’m no genius. But I know my current educational success wasn't by chance either. Perhaps I may have an edge over my peers since I do have a fairly good command of the medium of instruction i.e. English. But there are others who are better language users than I am so it shouldn't be the case. I hate it when people make sly comments like "Ana doesn't even have to study because she'll get good grades anyway".

Truth is, I hate examinations or any other form of assessments. I feel it undermines a person's love for finding things out and learning in general. I especially hate quizzes, I hate the unpredictable nature of it. I can never be confident enough of what I know. And more often than not I am faced with the situation that I have a feeling that I know exactly what I don't know to answer a particular question. I know the exact chapter, the exact page even, but not the exact details. That’s why I hate quizzes, because they tend to test on your knowledge of specific facts or details of which I suck at remembering.

The ultimate pain in the ^$$ would be finding out that there's a test a day before or worse on the day itself. I would raise a white flag in defeat if I weren't so used to not quitting in anything except for the matters of the heart which is unrelated to the topic of discussion and I’m digressing. Anyway, by hook or by crook I would never hand in a blank test, I rather crumple it up and eat it, but that has yet to take place.

And one thing I would never resort to is cheating. I have nothing to prove by doing so, apart from how desperate I am to not fail my paper and lose my reputation as a geek. It just defeats the purpose of sitting for a test, don't get me wrong although I am against it, it doesn't mean I don't respect the supposed need for it. Cheating is just something that I won't do, I guess.

it annoys me greatly to see my peers doing it, the tell-tale signs, shifty eyes, awkward writing positions, jerky head movements etc. but the ultimate insult to my patience if that is even possible would be to have someone asking me to contribute information. wtf? first of all, do I look like someone who works at the information counter? secondly, does that someone at the information counter even know what critical period hypothesis is and its significance in acquiring second language? thirdly, do you even know if I got that question right myself?

funnily, I could never openly refuse a person's question. I think it's a character flaw. I always try to find the answers to questions directed at me, even if it'll take a lot of googling, I hate questions left unanswered as a principle. so, I’m not exactly sure of how to handle this kind of problem. good thing I’m not asking myself of what I should do about it. I don't want to bother.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

It's all a game

Strange as it may seem
Strangers in a dream
Of a world full of chances
In a whirl pool of senses

Light first colored the room
Brightness covered the gloom
cotton candy melting slow
caught in the sandy pelting snow

she's wearing feathers for her flight
he's tearing letters with his sight
she's carving out a heart to give
he's starving for a dream to live

And the itch from inside etched scars
Of pitch-black rides to fetch stars
Still nothing was strange; it’s all a game
Nothing has changed; it’s all the same

Wednesday, October 10, 2007


Go see little yellow ducks
Swimming in the shallow pond
And go find those tiny trucks
Hidden inside the messy lawn
Eat yucky veggies without any fuss
Before going to the toy shop
Wait for the busy blue bus
Right by the boring bus stop
Get the new hot-wheels car
The one with the color red
See if it can go as far
As the ones under the bed
Ask mama for some money
To buy the pink cotton candy
Eat red apples coated with honey
But have to ask them from daddy
Play hide and seek in the big park
Do try very hard to win
When big mean dogs come to bark
Run like the howling wind
Walk past the dirty beggar
Give him a juicy apple
Feel a little bigger
Like the grown-up people