Tales of The Wanderlust:the preparation

when i was small, i could only listen to tales of my siblings' adventure abroad. two of them are pilots, and so they get to travel everywhere, up to a point where my brothers dont really go anywhere once they reach their destination -weary of travel, and already feel like they're part of the city. it's like going back to their homes in so many cities. the other sisters often travel as well, some on business, some on vacation.

i remember my eldest sister went on a european tour in the early 90s, and i remember looking at all the pics. she was complaining to me "your nieces were only interested in souvenirs, but not looking at the scenery". she was talking abt the their tour to the highlands of Scotland. she showed me the pics they took at Versailles, the palace of the great Sun King, or Louis the xiv. then there was a picture of tyrolean ladies dancing, spinning around. and in my silent heart i said to her "you should have taken me along, because i'm interested in all these".

with so many wonderful tales, how cant i be tempted? but as i was growing up, i was afraid of challenges, of the unknown. i embrace the routines and the familiar.

until the day i opened my mind to literary discussions.

i remember laurence sterne's A Sentimental Journey, Muhammad Hj Salleh's Si Tenggang's Homecoming, rushdie's Midnight's Children and The Moor's Last Sigh. i'm much influenced with rushdie's idea of cultural hybridity, of rootlessness - of not being rooted to a single place, but to be a traveller, and therefore, open to new ideas and cultures. that's the idea for a postmodern world. a borderless world.

a tourist is just a tourist, only satisfied with the commercial tourist attractions. but a traveller is more than that. a traveller seeks to discover new places and cultures with vigour and enthusiasm and learns so much more.

and so, armed with advice of friends and siblings, i'm preparing to be that traveller.

copy cats, cheap publicity and pop culture

at first, there's only one. the one. the next thing you know, imitations mushroom everywhere. an original louis vuitton will cost thousands of ringgit, while it's inferior counterpart (made in siam) only costs less than rm50.

talking about imitations leads me to my next point, which is the wild fire spread of copy cat reality tv shows. i understand that some tv stations are only concerned with reaping big bucks and ratings, but sometimes it's just too much. please, 1 david blaine show is enough....and there're a lot of other copy cat shows as well. and that too much publicised wedding - frankly i find it vulgar to commercialise such a dignified and sacred event. which is why i respect raja nazrin for making his a small but closed affair. it's tasteful, dignified and very royal.

back to reality tv shows, they target the younger generation (reminds me of a malay proverb something abt sorong bantal pd orang ngantuk?) who eagerly lap it up and even have factions fighting over their favourite celebrities.

makes one wonder - is this what we want our malaysians to be? to be too absorbed with entertainment until that's all they can talk about. this is also one of the reasons why youngsters do not read as they spend their time in front of the idiot box. and the ministry finally has to force the students to read by introducing literature component into the syllabus. i was really sad once when i started talking about books that i read as a teenager to my students. as i read out the titles of the books, i was met with silence and blank stares. how are we supposed to produce critical minded citizens then?

yes this has become our pop culture. the culture of texting on mobile phones, watching shows, less reading, less contact with our traditional culture...

where are we heading to?

a wedding and the aftermath

a long time ago, i used to have hopes of getting married and live happily ever after (well, dont we all? read that in the dryest tone). there was once when i hit rock bottom, but that wasnt because of a wedding, but of a pregnancy of another person, and it happened after i broke up with my ex. felt like i was a failure, like the whole world was against me. that was when i did my masters.

when one of the nieces got married recently, my other single nieces and i hung out as usual, after the nikah ceremony. some of them were depressed. me? well, i m past the stage. what can i say? my niece found a nice man. that's all. and so we moped over a muffin and ice blended chocolate with whipped cream.

i'm reminded of an episode of sex and the city, when a friend of the 4 girls got married and she threw the bouquet. the flowers fell at carrie's feet. they all looked down, but carrie never bent to pick them up. instead, she said her goodbyes to the other 3 girls and went off. probably i've become carrie, disillusioned.

the journey of life is full of thorns which make you cry. in the end, you become tougher, although i must admit, there are times when a wandering thought can set off unstoppable tears. it makes you wonder if you'll ever be happy. my niece pointed out that i successfully completed my studies, i've ex students who still contact me after 7 years, and students who respect me, and i can travel. happiness isnt attained when you have a handsome or rich husband. happiness comes from within you because you love yourself, you have people who care for you, and you pursue your dream and succeed in doing it.

it's in your heart.

Song of the Sea: Collecting Shells

In the midst of the calm morning sea,
I left fresh footsteps in the wet brown sand.
The peach globe was radiant and well-pleased,
listening to the orchestrated waves.

I couldnt help myself but smiled,
And looking down,
I was a girl once more.
There lay a curved row of beautiful treasures
of pink, brown and white.
I bent down and picked one.
With each piece I was reminded
of visits with my father,
listening to his tales of fishermen
reading the stars to sail home with their bounty;
eagles would fly majestically to signify the end of monsoon.

To the South China Sea
I paid homage and re-lived the ritual,
collecting treasures of the sea.
This is my land,
And the shells bind me to it.

penned on 6th June 07.

Song of the Sea: Laments of a Heart: A Tale of Innocence

In solitude
I crossleg on the millions of granules,
witnessing the birth of a new day.
It's peaceful around here.
Before me spreads a priceless painting,
Splashes of pink and orange spice the dull blue.
entitled "happy colours of the innocence".
Strange as it seems, the colours that remind me of you
are created on this land.

As children we breathed the same salty breeze.
We frolicked under the same sun.
We watched the high and the ebb.
But I had strayed from our playground.
And you, with the gentleness of the lapping
waves in June,
brought me back.
We were the innocence.
We confided our dreams,
We laughed, and we shared.
But today there are only regrets and a sharp pang.

This emptiness in me will no longer be filled with innocence.
The waves still lap gently.
They come and retreat.

I'm sitting here alone
Realising I can never catch my waves.
Realising I will miss you a lifetime.

penned on this day, 29th June 2003.

the football match

last thursday, when our beloved sultan mizan was installed as the 13th agong, my top lcds committee came for a meeting at my house (the president's idea, since his house is near to mine). when the children arrived (i'm very fond of calling them children, although obviously they are teenagers, i feel that there's a certain charm to it that i just cant resist), the smell of chocolate muffins greeted them, and they stayed for 3 hours for a meeting regarding our summer camp which will be held at one of the pulaus.

and just today, we had our annual football tournament, amidst the soft patter of a drizzle. i was there with another lcds teacher, and we stayed until 10 matches were played. everytime we began to walk down the stairs of the astaka, one of the boys would ask "teacher, where are you going?" obviously, we had to stay and we kept ourselves busy chatting (as all women do).

the final match finally ended at nearly 3pm, with the underground fc winning the title...amidst the sweat, lots of mud and empty mineral bottles (which i told them to pick up before the admin makes noise).

hopefully after this the next activity will be a blast.

The Climb

i hate climbing anything that is vertical. the last time i had a climb was in 95 when i was forced to climb a mountain in kluang. that was a torture. nowadays i spend most of the days walking on flat land where it seems more stable and i've no fear of falling.

then, a few days ago, my neighbour, a neurosurgeon, asked me to be her buddy for the hill climb. in KT, that only means Big Hill (direct translation, please). for a lesser mortal like me, the hill is precipitous. she already told me not to talk too much while climbing or i'd lose my energy. she's right. i couldnt even talk because my breathing was so laboured... i already told her if i couldnt go to school because of jelly legs, she's supposed to issue me an MC.

my neighbour takes the climb as a challenge because "the heart rate accelerates" and it's a good workout. so i was huff and puffing and we stopped a few times, watching some of the other locals with envy. while we were struggling, some men in their 50s were jogging and talking leisurely the whole way up.

when we reached the top, we could see a marvellous view of KT. nice. the descent was much easier, but it still took us half an hour. today is my 2nd day, and hopefully i'll do better.

This Thing We Call Love

since time immemorial, both men and women have been plagued with this incurable sickness/madness/euphoria (choose whichever is applicable).

i dont know why it wasnt that complicated for my siblings - for my eldest brother, it was an arranged marrige; for the rest of siblings, well it was easy. but for me, as the youngest, living in a totally different era, it is a hurdle that is hard to cross. and my nieces agreed.

one of my nieces is back in KT, to recuperate. we went for walks on the beach...more walks on the beach...staring into the aquamarine sea hoping that the tranquility will heal the wound. and all the while, we talked about relationships and men, about temptations, expectations and the brutal reality.

of course, love is not THAT BAD. it's like chocolate. it tastes heavenly and you'll be on cloud 9 or 12 or 15. you ll be smiling for no reason, the earth seems a better place for you and you just want everybody to be happy for you.

but when something goes wrong, and i'm not talking about a minor glitch, but a major one that forces you to rethink; love, like chocolate, leaves its scar. only then you feel the pain of the fall because you ve fallen so deep that you cant possibly get up. you think that the world is unfair because some !@@#^& broke your heart, and while to some, crying is all they can do, for some others, stabbing that person or ram into his new beloved car seems a very sensible and justified action. he's hurt you, so why shouldnt you hurt him?

yes, and so the heart bleeds....but hell hath no fury like a woman scorned either.

i've had my fair share of heartbreaks. and from each breakup, although i was hurt, i learned. the process of healing is always long and arduous and there are times when i feel that life is unfair. i wish i can just let go of the pain, but it's not that easy. healing IS long, and can be trying but it is through this process that we know ourselves better, that we become wiser. which is why we make mistakes. people dont listen to advice when they're in love. they learn from mistakes.

and hopefully, the next time i'm in love i'll be wiser.

The Wish and the Disillusionment of A Teacher

a true teacher is satisfied when her students have succeeded in life. she doesnt ask to be repaid in money (though a pay raise by the ministry is eagerly welcomed) nor does she ask the students to paint her name in the sky or be printed in papers.

thus, i always get a warm and fuzzy feeling when my students and ex students succeed. it doesnt matter if they're straight A students, so long as they're doing well, and they turn out to be decent people. because i believe not only in teaching them english or literature, but to mould them to become a good person. and that's the hardest task.

i'm reminded of a movie entitled "The Emperor's Club" starring Kevin Kline - a History teacher who teaches the History of Roman Empire to his students, and how he trusts and tries to "tame" a wild rich boy by giving him a chance in their annual Caesar's Quiz. the boy cheats in the quiz. he grows up to become a corrupted politician. and in his old age, the teacher becomes disillusioned, wondering if he can trust his judgment of people.

i feel the same way as that teacher feels today, when i saw an ex student requested that i add him in the list. i was shocked when i saw his pictures. not exactly what i thought my student would behave, and that really disappoints me. because i feel like i've failed as a teacher. i sent him a message asking who he was, but his answer was arrogant. it's not what i had expected from a student of mine either. especially a religious school student.

it makes me wonder.

soreness n frizzy hair

last 2 weeks,i was told by my head of panel to replace him for a course in KL.

"why me?"

"because, after the head of panel, the next person who should go is the secretary"

thought of LCDS badminton tournament.... the LCDS high comm meeting...my first Cycle 6 Literature in English class... *sigh*

in accusing tone
"you should have told me earlier"

"hey sorry la, i would have been there myself, but i'm stuck here"

yeah right.

so on sunday morning, i made my way to JPN and boarded the JPN bus with the other KT teachers. i saw familiar faces, my SPM marking teammates, and my longtime tesl friend maizah. the journey was full of chatter, but in the end, after 9 hours on the road, we just wanted a good stretch and a proper bed to lie on. we reached the hotel. looked at it, and sighed a big sigh. (read between the lines please)

later that night we met the ELO, DELOs, the GC and vicky. i was looking at vicky's hair, and thought "that's really a frizzy hair". from time to time she would twirl her fingers around her hair. later on, when i was in my group, i wasnt alone in my thoughts. one male teacher joked of buying her a metal comb.

during her session, we were amused with her american accent, especially when she pronounced "modules", which we thought at first was "mahjong". when we did catch what she said, we, the english teachers, became just like our students, and imitated her american accented "modules". now i know how my students feel like whenever i teach them phonetics in class.

it was another long journey on the road, and the bus driver did not see the humour when i was the last one to board the bus at a stopover - you see, i saw a teacher bought a cornetto, and i just had to get one. grinning at him didnt help either. thank god for the cuti perjalanan that we got the next day....too tired to even move.

well anyway, despite the soreness, i learnt something and am inspired to work wonders in class. and despite her hair, vicky did teach me something (or reminded me of what my lecturers taught)- to vary the teaching methods. which i did, and the debate in my form 4 class was a roaring success, with the students actively participating in the heated discussion.

well... at the end of the day, i smiled.

dated 26th march: An Elegy for Fluffy

i had so many cats before, eversince i was a girl of 6. i think cats are so affectionate and loyal, with the adorable qualities as well.

my beloved half persian, fluffy, was such a cat. i fell in love with him when he was 3 months old, and i bought him frm a pet shop. he's active, as all kittens are, and had a really cute face. all my family members love him, including one of my sisters who hates cats.

the thing about fluffy is he's really manja. too damn manja. he would meow in that manja way of his. and would come and take a nap in my room. sometimes he'd wake me up in the morning, asking me to open the door for him. when my students come for tuition, he'd come to the table and bask in the glory when people fuss over him. i used to feel menyampah over his act, but i love him.

despite his manja ways, fluffy could be very haughty. he could give anyone that haughty stare of a royalty. and he's also very smart. when he wanted us to let him out to enjoy a morning romp, he'd give us that melting pitiful look.

the whole neighbourhood knows fluffy, of the fact that in the evening and at night when he still hadnt returned, i or the maid could be heard calling his name.

last night, fluffy was extra manja, more manja than usual. i called his name from time to time, and he'd come near me and slept. when i was baking bread, he kept me company in the kitchen.

today, one of the neighbours' son came to the house to tell us that fluffy was found dead at his garage. there he was, fluffy, in his white and caramel fur, lying very stiff, eyes wide open. i was so shocked and held him dearly, and the trip back to my house (though a few metres away) was dreadful. that was the last time i held him, with his soft fur... i was crying openly, but i just didnt care. fluffy died. and he wanted to spend the last moments with his mistress. fluffy died, and my heart is crying...i can still hear his manja meows in my head. may his soul rest in peace.

entry dated 24th march: The Lovers of Literature s Meet

i always dread going to courses. may be it's because i like the mundane routines and hate being yanked frm its dreariness. so i always complain (loudly) about the stupid courses - like, the one i attended 2 years ago, about encouraging the teachers to use the textbook in class (DUH!! i've been using textbooks in class long before that). there was once a one-day course where english teachers had to jazz chant and jump. i wasnt amused at all.

and so, it was with great excitement when i was told by the top JU here that i would be attending a briefing on the new syllabus for the 6th cycle of Literature in English. yep, i was on the moon, jumping over it, around it, whichever prepositions you prefer. you see, i've been teaching the subject since 2 years ago, and after much racking of the brain, i realised that i need help in teaching the ending cycle - the one with the e.e. cummings (why on earth did they select a modernist poet who wrote run ons and gleefully wrote cryptic words?). i also need the new syllabus. i'm very happy to know that they chose Neruda's poem. the selection of texts are carefully thought of, and the texts are student friendly (except shakespeare's julius caesar)

will start the class next week...cant wait!

thumbs up to CDC

well my heart leapt up on thurs when i went to school and the typist handed me the texts of the new cycle for Literature in English SPM paper. because the first title that i read is the title of my mostest favouritest poem in the world, written by the most passionate poet, Pablo Neruda. the people at the Curriculum Dev. Centre must have a soft spot for the Chilean poet like i do.

i first read the poem 10 years ago when i was recovering from a breakup. now everytime i read the poem i still cry, as i can feel the poignancy n the emptiness felt by the persona.

well my literature students will hear me raving about the poem during our lessons...that's for sure...haha...for those of you who've never heard of neruda or read his works....read this poem...btw there are some other versions as neruda wrote this in spanish, so this is a translation.

The Saddest Poem

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I love her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think that I dont have her. To think that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to the grass.

What does it matter that my love couldnt keep her?
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is so lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her, and she is not with me.

The same night that whiten the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer loved her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Some else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and forgetting so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
My soul is so lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem i write for her.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

the lament of a shoe freak

i was walking in town 2 days ago, and passed by vincci. i couldnt resist stopping by, especially when there's a sale going on. so there i was, in my shoe haven, and i saw rows and rows sandals, there were at least 10 that i like, but alas, with a great sigh i realised that those were all at least 1 1/2 inches high. ah! i sighed again. such pretty shoes! and i cant bring them home because my feet are killing me if i wear heels when i walk to the form 3 blocks. and another reason is, i counted my wearable shoes, and i have at least 20 pairs of heels. i guess i'm turning into carrie bradshaw and her blahniks (but mine are just vinccis, carlo rinos and primavera), but i hope i'm not turning into imelda marcos. and so, i sighed again, walked out of the shop. alas, pretty shoes, parting is such sorrow!

I need a Holiday!!

on the 1st day of school, i was at the last coordination meeting for spm paper code 1119/2. when the last bundle was carried into the team leader's car, i was stumped. pooped. tired. felt like a zombie... yes, i was mentally tired.

the next day i went to school, and felt, for the 1st time the agony of walking to the new form 3 block, which used to be form 4 block and was the agony of all the form 4 teachers. my heels are either 2 inches or 2 1/2 inches high, so just imagine walking a long long way and climbing the tiny tiny steps in my heels to all my classes. and i groaned. my classes are all on the 2nd floor. including my form 4 class.

which is why, i need a holiday. thinking of the next trip...ah! cant wait to see the culture, to visit the historical places....how ppl there live...and to shop!!!

The Standard of English of Young Malaysians

back in the 70s, my late bro, who came back fr. the UK after getting his MRCP, was offered as a lecturer in the faculty of medicine of UKM. my brother, like me, was concerned with the quality of students produced. we both want our students to come out to the outside world with knowledge that befits them - in this case, for my brother, to produce quality doctors. unfortunately though, he was pressured to pass the students eventhough they're not up to the mark. finally, my brother left, and became a specialist in the govt. hospital. he was offered a lot of money to join the private hospitals, but he declined the offer - because he wanted to train young doctors doing their housemanship and to ensure they're of quality.

now, i raise the same question of quality, and although i'm not a medical doctor like my late brother, i question the standard of english among the young malaysians nowadays. to be sure, there are good english speakers, good english writers - those who are exposed to the language at such an early age or use it at home as their 1st language rather than their mother tongue. then there are those who are motivated because of their keen interest in the language.

one of the reasons why students dont perform well is that they're not interested in the language. yes it's the same excuse, but it is the reality. they dont see the point of learning the language, or worse, they would rather read other subjects such as Physics, Chemistry, Biology. some brilliant graduates are jobless because they cannot communicate in english. which is a big shame, really. my niece, who went for the interview to become a PTD (diplomatic and admin officer) was appalled to see how graduates who could speak eloquently in bahasa during a presentation, struggled to speak in english during an oral english presentation.

parents should play the key role in motivating the students by speaking in english at home. yes, everybody is embarrassed to speak in english at first (for those who are not used to it) but it gets better with practice. which is more important, pride or the benefit of the children? they should also motivate the students to read in english. as i often told my students, even the most brilliant professor in english cant teach them everything there is to know in english, and they should help themselves.

unfortunately though, some students live in communities that still see english as a colonial language " bahasa penjajah", and some extremists view english as the language of the infidels "bahasa kafir". english is just a tool for communication, it has no religious nor political connotations. if the extremists are so worried for the souls of their children, they should bear in mind that their mother tongue is not the language of the Quran either (read this in a very dry note).

another main reason: some organisations which i cannot mention here, are instrumental in presenting malaysians with a facade. the teachers have a certain standard for their students, but after the results of public exams are out, students often get better results. some deserve the good grades, but some are questionable. sometimes we are told to accept answers that do not really answer the question. which makes this brain wonder again.... what has become to the standard of english? thus, we present malaysians with another reality. a constructed reality. my fren, who is working at one of the organisations, said that there are some who question why students who performed well in 1119 cannot perform in muet. i'm not going to provide the answer here. it is up to the readers to think. as descartes said, cogito ergo sum - i think, therefore i am.

Getting a Maid:A Manual

i'm maidless right now, which is equivalent to a greek tragedy. i've been so used (and spoiled) to having small luxuries, that now i miss all those days. like having all my clothes including nightgowns and caftans ironed.

i'm waiting for the new maid to arrive now, and you'll never believe how expensive a maid can be. last 2 years, we paid RM5k to get a maid in and paid her RM370 a month. now we've to pay RM6.7 to get a maid in, and her salary will be RM500. if you get one through licensed agencies, that is.

so basically, what do you have to do if you want to get a maid? first of all, survey. you ll have to know
1. how much the agency's service charge is
2. how much the indon agency's service charge is

however, it is my advice that you do not opt for unlicensed agencies, as the qualities of the maids might differ. of course, they offer much cheaper price usually half of the price set by licensed agencies, but if you want a peace of mind in your house, it's going to be difficult.

then, after you've chosen the agency, browse through the profiles the agent shows you. my agent uses her Chinese study of judging people from their physical appearances in helping us to decide on a maid. i found it amusing at first, but her judgment tend to be accurate. after you've chosen the the profile, the agent will start on the legal documents. some agencies do all hassle of going to the imigration, some dont. mine dont, but it's okay, because she prepared everything and i just went to the imigration, and they approved my application in a jiffy. to those of you who have to do the paperwork on your own, you'll get a few sets of forms frm your agents. you have to prepare copies of IC, borang EC, 3 months of your payslip, and if you have children under 18 years old, then make copies of their birth certs, if you're getting the maid for your sick parents, then you'll have to make a copy of your birth cert to prove your relationship to the parents. also, get a medical report from a doctor to prove the parents need assistance in doing their daily activities if your parents are below 70 years old. after preparing the copies, get duty stamps worth RM50 stamped on the application forms. when everything's in order, go to the imigration and bring along with you RM430 for the levy. the officer will approve your application, though i cant promise you that the application can be approved in a short time.

when you get the maid, you're responsible in getting her a medical check up. this is done through fomema and they will give you a list of panel clinics. you also have to pay RM190 for this.

before i forget. make sure you get an insurance to cover the maid frm the agency. if, let's say, the maid meets an untimely demise, you'll have to bear the cost of RM8k to transfer her body back to the country. if you apply for the insurance, however, you dont have to pay much, just a couple of hundreds.

so, what do you do when you get your maid? you've to train the maid according to your taste. what i mean is, how do you want your house to be run - how many times does she have to mop the floor in a week, what time is she supposed to set the table and so on. this is the biggest headache, because it's not easy to train a maid. if you get a garang maid, you'll be in trouble if you're soft because she'll bully you. if you get a slow maid, you feel like screaming your head off. you have to use your discretion, dont be too strict. dont be too friendly or else they'll be on your head. be firm but reasonable.

so that's just a few tips that i can offer you, based on my experience. bonne chance!

Judge Dread (not Dredd)

it's that time of the year again - when migraine attacks and gastric pains occur. when you rack your brain, thinking of things linguistically. when you ask yourself - to give or not to give?

yup. judging students' exam scripts. it's not an easy feat to read and to award marks to students. it is, after all, about deciding one's fate. of course, the fact that we dont know the candidates make it easier for us to evaluate the scripts fairly. though the hardest part is trying to decipher what the candidates are trying to convey in their essays. it's like driving a car. sometimes you get to drive a BMW - a smooth ride; sometimes you get to drive cabuk cars so it's a bumpy ride. there are candidates who wrote impressive pieces, so impressive that i thought that this cant be written by a 17 year old...what a diction! such precision, such sophistication!

i'm not going to talk much about this, since i'm bound by the Confidentiality Act. may God give me a clear mind to mark for the rest of the month until 2nd Jan.

Mundane Life

well, was in kl for a week, and all the dutiful children came to pay homage to the matriarch, including our ever-so-busy brother. back to mundane life after spending god knows how much in kl (and getting lost on the way back from putrajaya, thanx to my niece Asha). have to seriously start saving for the next trip with Gina.

besides going here and there trying to complete the application for the new maid, i'm currently reading The Postmodern by Simon Malpas. no, it's not a fiction. it's a required reading, to equip myself before i embark on my next migraine-inducing mad project in the quest of enlightenment and self-betterment. well, it's not as dense as Homi Bhabha's. i keep myself sane by searching for soundtracks, the familiar tunes as well as out of print ones. i found a slow romantic rap song by Squeeze entitled Heaven Knows, which is featured in Hackers, starring Angelina Jolie (she was still young at that time, it's where she met her ex-hubby Johnny Miller). then, there's another obscure song, which i remember from my teenage years when i watched the 80s teenage flick Just One of the Guys by Ronnie Spector called "Tonight You're Mine". my current fave is Michael Buble's Home, featured in The Wedding Date.

Home

Another summer day
Is come and gone away
In Paris and Rome
But I wanna go home
Mmmmmmmm

Maybe surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel all alone
I just wanna go home
Oh I miss you, you know

And I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you
Each one a line or two
I'm fine baby, how are you?
Well I would send them but I know that it's just not enough
My words were cold and flat
And you deserve more than that

Another aerorplane
Another sunny place
I'm lucky I know
But I wanna go home
Mmmm, I've got to go home

Let me go home
I'm just too far from where you are
I wanna come home

And I feel just like I'm living someone elses life
It's like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right
And I know just why you could not
Come along with me
But this was not your dream
But you always believed in me

Another winter day has come
And gone away
And even Paris and Rome
And I wanna go home
Let me go home

And I'm surrounded by
A million people I
Still feel alone
Oh, let go home
Oh, I miss you, you know

Let me go home
I've had my run
Baby, I'm done
I gotta go home
Let me go home
It will be all right
I'll be home tonight
I'm coming back home

to the 80s kids

most of you read the fwd email on what it means to be an 80s kid. this is my rendition of what it means to be an 80s kid.

1. you know what nkotb stands for. and you still remember "Hanging Tough".

2. you used to wear baggy blouses, tights and leg warmers. not to mention the unimaginable amount of gel on your hair. and big shoulder pads. thick makeup. "punk" hairdo was in.

3. the silver screen males who ruled the day were tom cruise (remember top gun?), kirk cameron, michael j fox, ralph macchio, scott baio, tony danza, rob lowe. not to forget, johnny made his debut in 21 jump street that made all the girls swoon. the queen of teenage movies was molly ringwald who acted in "pretty in pink" and "sixteen candles".

4.you remember madonna as a marilyn monroe wannabe in her platinum blonde hairdo. not to mention her infamous bustier. and you sang to "material girl" and "papa dont preach".

5.favourite hangout would be the mcdonalds. tea dances were famous back then.

6.atari was a famous form of entertainment. vcr made its appearance.

7.you remember datuk shah rezza not as a wedding planner but as a young actor. as with ziela jalil who wore a very revealing ensemble in "tarzan rimba". you know ogy in ali setan and suara kekasih.

8.the late sudirman was malaysia's top entertainer. the late seha was a healthy young woman who sang "mulanya di sini"with her band. zainal was with headwind, amy with search and acis with gersang.

9.you know the tune of "true" by spandau ballet. you love a-ha's take on me. glory of love was the most romantic song, with the girls wishing that ralph macchio would fight for their honour.

10. you remember michael jackson when he was "natural".

11.sitcoms of the day were family ties, growing pains, the cosby show and facts of life. the tv shows not to be missed - dynasty, the colbys and 21 jump street.

12. you know freddy kruger. you know mahoney in police academy. you love the goonies and the soundtrack cyndi lauper sang for the film.

13. breakdance was introduced and became the craze.

bigotry versus wisdom

in Midnight's Children, Saleem Sinai claims that he is the sum of all the people around him and the people before him. simply put, he means that a person's personality is constructed based on experience gained from being in a community. as for me, what i'm going to write is based on what i've learned in my literature classes, my extensive readings in cultural theories and obviously, my experience in life.

what induces me to write this piece is the film shown on HBO today, entitled "Higher Learning" with the cast that include tyra banks, the guy in Barber Shop and Dr foreman in House. the setting is, as the film suggests, an institution of higher learning, and the main issue brought to centrestage is racism - between the white supremacy and the blacks.

no, i'm not going to write about racial divide. i just want to talk about bigotry. in the dictionary, bigotry refers to the state of the mind of a bigot, one who holds his opinions and prejudices steadfastly. in the movie, a white boy believes in his supremacy over the blacks, just because of his skin colour, never mind that he is not doing well in in studies compared to the black boy.

the question of supremacy has everything to do with binary opposites of Self and Other, the oppressor and the oppressed, and the coloniser and the colonised. when there is a self, there is always an other, that is, when there is one who controls, there is always one who is controlled.

traditionally, we hear the story frm the perspective of the Self, but recently with the advent of postcolonial and feminist theories, we hear the voices from the Other, the oppressed who fights for the change of position of power in the social group.

well then, if we have such theories which write back to the oppressor and try to change the status quo, what's the point of writing about bigotry? because bigotry is alive and kicking. it is not only about racial divide, it's also about beliefs. bigotry can cause many mischiefs, some even go as far as catastrophic level that banishes good will. a bigot is convinced that his actions are correct, eventhough they are not. and to make it worse, we've been taught to stand up for ourselves and so we're in the age where everybody is heard, and one who believes will stamp his foot down. this makes a bigot dangerous, for a bigot is always led to rash actions , more often than not these actions are accompanied with abusive words. unfortunately though, nobody is perfect, and it is not up to us to judge someone. certainly not by a bigot.

which brings us to wisdom, the Other of bigotry. wisdom cant be learned, it is earned. it is through experience, observation and learning that we acquire wisdom. wisdom is usually associated with maturity, hence the portrayal of wise old men with long beards in fantasy fictions such as Gandalf, Belgarath and Dumbledore. however, i've met younger people who are wise beyond their years, which proves that wisdom does not come with age. wisdom leads not only to acceptance, openness and tolerance, but also a moment of pause for reflection before making any actions.

at the end of the movie, an uneasy peace is shown between the black boy and a white girl, a symbol of tolerance and acceptance. the movie ends with 1 word "unlearn".

The Annual Hi Tea

we had our annual hi tea at primula today.it was a success, if i may say so, what with us the committee members working very hard to get sponsors, so that all the teachers would bring back not one gift, but 3, and those who are really lucky would get 4. the grand prize was a 3 day 2 nite stay at aryani resort, which was won by mr phang, whom i think is appropriate, given his retirement and all.

it all started early in the morning, when while trodding the rain sodden road, i nearly spoiled my carlo rino pumps. the male comm members were already loading the bags and the 134 gifts into cikgu zaki's mpv, while phiza and i made our way to top of the world. there, the staff was just starting to arrange the tables and chairs, while the rest of us had to sweat (the airconditioning unit had just been switched on) arranging all the 134 prizes according to chronological order.

at 1.30, the comm were all there, and it all began when the teachers started arriving, the men in their baju melayu n sampin n songkok (the works) and the women in their glittering ensemble. the main event was, of course, the makan part, and because the teachers were told in whispers that there's a grand prize, and the fact that everybody would be lucky, the lucky draw was also the main attraction. it's no joke, having to find all the prizes and pooled them at the stage, but that's what we did. anyway, yours truly won a china casserole dish, something that i truly like, considering that i like to buy anything to do with cooking or dining. anyway, it's been a tiring day.

tomorrow we'll have 2 makan2.... the 1st is the breakfast in my staffroom - nasi lemak, lontong and laksa penang. i've already baked chocolate chip apple cake and now my marble cheesecake is in the oven. and... in the afternoon, the koperasi will hold a luncheon. *sigh*... ah abundance, abundance!

A Reflection

it's funny how our perceptions change as we grow older. as kids we think of life differently, we see certain things as something majestic or grand. i used to remember a relative's house being big when i was 6, but during last raya, i saw that it was just like any other ordinary house.

and so our perceptions in life are constantly changed, by people around us, by what we read, by what we think. i must say that i've come a long way from that little girl of 6.

i was born the youngest, and has always looked to others for approval. this has become a part of my identity, being the pleaser, until lately, when i've come into the full circle of myself. my identity. i went through one of the most difficult times in my life, and i was forced to make some tough decisions.

some may think that i've changed, some even called me not-so-nice names, but they failed to see that i've evolved. i dont follow the herd anymore, i m done with being a pleaser. i've a brain to think, and i think what's best for me. sometimes God lets us learn the most valuable lessons through hardships. although i'm now 33, i only found out that there are those who think that they're in the right therefore they can judge, but then, they forget that they themselves are no saints, and therefore are in no position to condemn someone. i also learnt that the length of years doesnt make someone know you better, sometimes a person who has only known you for months knows you better than your long time friends. i also found that true and good friends dont judge you, they are there for you. they dont call you names either. i learnt that sometimes it is best to keep quiet, because a word might set off a fire.

i believe that this happens to everyone at some point of his or her life. the dawn of recognition. the coming of age. the end of the innocence, the beginning of wisdom.

it s just that i grew up.

raya pics

dated 25th oct: Of Visiting Relatives and Gathering

it's a custom for us to visit our relatives at kampung. a visit to my late father's village in setiu is a must. we convoyed to setiu in 3 cars, and went to 3 houses, which we always visit every year. wat i like about visiting the relatives is we're bonding with them, and at the same time making sure that the next generation know their roots. kak sham was explaining to me about a relative that we visited yesterday and i was lost halfway through her explanation because it's too complicated. yes, difficult to comprehend abt who's who when you even have trouble remembering all your 33 nephews and nieces. on the way back, we stopped to eat deepfried fresh fish and squid, which all my siblings look forward to when they return to KT.

and we had our annual cousins gathering, with me as the only aunty. this has become a neo-tradition in our family, started in the year 1998 when we first raya here after a few years rayaing in KL. as usual, it's a boisterous affair, and it was fun bonding with everybody.

tomorrow they'll be going back. *sigh* party's over.

entry dated 24th oct: eid mubarrak

we celebrated raya with joy, as laughter could be heard everywhere . there were voices, and voices and more voices. early in the morning, we served our raya dishes and then went off to take shower and wore our brand new baju raya, and the women were bedecked with all the bling bling while the menfolk went to pray in their baju melayu and sampin songket. the aunties and the uncles gave out ang pows (including yours truly), and at the same time we salamed and asked for forgiveness. and then, after more serious eating of nasi dagang, nasi tomato, ketupat nasi and kuah kacang and lemang and rendang; we took family pics and this took quite some time, if you notice the number of pics i took in the photo album. only after the family pic session did we start to visit our relatives. by the time we returned home, we were already like ular sawa, well-fed and sleepy. ayi wasnt around this time to check our blood pressure. he did that when we rayaed in KL a few years ago.

my eldest sister arrived this afternoon, so the family is almost complete, with the exception to my late eldest bro's family, who are celebrating raya at their maternal grandparents house. in the evening, we visited my late father's grave. couldnt help it, but tears just rolled down my face.

anyway, we plan to visit our other relatives tomorrow in wat we've dubbed as "jejak kasih". in this, i respect my brother abg zaki because he goes at great lengths to find long lost relatives and to trace our roots.

selamat hari raya everyone. maaf zahir batin

entry dtaed 23rd oct: Family Affair

i was having a peaceful time in the morning when suddenly there were incessant knocks on my door. it happened to be my eldest nephew, who arrived at 8.30 after leaving KL at 3am. then, i waited impatiently for my fav bro to arrive, because i was supposed to bring my sis in law and the womenfolk jewellery lady to see bling bling. my bro was the only man there, and while we were dazzled by the diamonds, he sat behind, and later received a call from my other pilot bro who jokingly wished him good luck. after spending nearly 2 hours there, my bro had to part with his cash as my sis in law got her bling bling.

we came back, and it was a busy time as the rest were busy preparing nasi tomato for dinner and intan was teaching me how to prepare puff pastry and later made the scrumptious mille feuille, of puff with a filling of pastry cream and strawberry jam. cant understand how a chef can be so energetic. i was already zonked out after an hour.

by 6.30, we were all crowding the buffet table and took our nasi tomato and drinks, and began to find places. there were 20 adults and 10 children, and we were scattered - from the dining table to the living room to the hall, and also outside the house near the porch. the main thing was to wait for the cannon shot. and so it was heard, for the last time today, with the accompaniment of everybody's joyous shouts. of course, my work and intan's work hadnt finished. the mille feuille never quite made it to the plate, as everybody came to sample them as soon as we filled in the jam and the cream. and then i realised, how a work of art (it is a work of art, considering the laborious work involved of folding the pastry and putting pastry margarine and rolling it and resting it in the fridge for 20 mins for 4 times) can just vanish in a split second.

the boys were having a fun time with the fireworks... competing with the neighbours actually. i think they scared fluffy off, who was gallivanting.

tomorrow is raya. more food to eat *groan*

selamat hari raya maaf zahir batin

entry dated 22nd oct:Countdown to Raya

every year, the little town of KT is transformed into a mini KL -because there's massive traffic jam everywhere. why? the out of towners are back. of course that creates a lot of problems, because this is the time when people do their last minute shopping. we had to resort to KL style of driving i.e. to be kiasu drivers and i was one of them today (look what 2 years stint in KL did to my driving).

anyway, today, the agenda was to shop for shoes, which gina, asha and i did today, and when we got to park the car it was like a victory because the day before we were minutes late and there wasnt any available parking space to be seen. then i fetched intan because, now that we have a pastry chef in the family, it's only fair that we have an elegant and sophisticated centrepiece for the dining table on raya day : a mille fouille, an oreo cheesecake and a tiramisu. i was the one who's so excited because i got to make puff pastry myself (from scratch, not the frozen one sold in supermarkets). we had an assortment of food for berbuka - laksa terengganu kuah putih and mee hoon soup. seating arrangement is free, so everyone can sit and eat wherever they like. my regular space is in front of the tv. along with kak sham, gina and asha... mother's sitting at the table with her sons and apit who entertains her.

we're waiting for my fav bro, the other pilot, who's due to arrive at any moment now, and tomorrow all the womenfolk will visit the jewellery lady and stare at bling bling which will make the hubbies sigh and worry.

entry dated 21st oct:Malay Classical Prose with a Twist

arakian tersebutlah alkisah sebuah istana yang tersergam di negeri teratak iman yang didiami oleh seorang maharani Zainon dan seorang puteri bernama Galoh Cendera Nora Kirana. ada pun puteri ini mempunyai 6 kekanda yang menetap di ibu kota. kerna hari lebaran makin tiba, maka kekanda-kekanda tersebut pulang untuk bersama dengan maharani serta adinda mereka. maka giranglah hati maharani itu akan kepulangan anakanda-anakanda tercinta. akan tetapi, istana mereka tidak cukup untuk menampung mereka semua, maka kekanda-kekanda terpaksa mendiami di istana yang lebih besar yang dinamakan hotel. ketika berbuka puasa, suasana di istana amat gamat sekali, dengan tawa hilai sambil menjamah hidangan. di malam hari pula, pelita dipasang menghiasi taman istana bak berlian bergemerlapan di malam hari oleh anak saudara puteri tersebut.

maka gamat lah istana tersebut sehingga hari lebaran. dan bergumbiralah para puteri serta putera yang pulang beraya.

note: at least i still remember the malay classical prose i studied for SPM. had a lot of influence from Hikayat Panji Semirang, which i read when i was 12.

entry dated 20th oct:When Roosters Come Back to Roost

it is that time of the year when my house is officially crowded with people. when there is not one car, but 4 cars in the driveway, and by raya it will grow to 9 cars. travelling anywhere will be difficult then, especially when your car happens to be in the garage and 8 other cars are blocking.

it's also the time when the dining table has become the buffet table and everyone sits everywhere...but usually the older ones will sit at the table. and of course, my mother the matriarch of the family, rules the table.

it all started with the arrival of my nephew ayi and his wife rafi, whom i havent seen for a few months. despite their hectic schedule, they look well and healthy. then i was told that abg zaki was coming home yesterday. called him, and sure enough, right after his flight, he decided to return and was driving the way he always does because he wanted to beat the jam. my mother was already grumbling saying there wouldnt be enough food to feed a lot of people, since we're expecting kak sham's entourage for sahur. they arrived at 4.30, and it was a noisy affair at such an ungodly hour. i could tell my mother was happy though, happy to see her children at home. because kak sham couldnt "check in" to the vacant room yet, gina and asha slept in my room. the rest were sprawling outside at the living room. today, kak dah will be arriving in the afternoon, bringing with her a lot of kerepek and a lot of other goodies and probably we'll start sewing the beads on the baju raya together.

it'll be a blast!

p.s. to syazwani, wish that u're here. tuk made kerutup daging last night. intan's here too.

The French Connection

i used to take french when i was in 1st year degree. at that time tesl students were required to learn a foreign language, and i decided to take up french. there were 24 of us. our lecturer was from itm main campus, she holds a masters degree in french literature.

anyway, french was fun, we had french names and mine was natasha (ok, it's not so french, but i didnt choose the name) and because we got to learn many interesting sounding words and to actually articulate it. our first words were "non" and "oui" and later we grew cheeky and started asking people "voulez vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?" long before mya, christina, pink and lil kim made it popular. we would ask the meaning of certain obscene words and the lecturer would look at us disapprovingly and said "that's not a good word". the classes were in the afternoon, and sometimes some of us decided to make a disappearing act. and our lecturer would ask "ou est natalie?" and because we didnt know much french, we just answered "elle est malade" (she's sick...when she's not!). but miraculously, during tests, it was a full house and we would sit so close together so that we could see our neighbours answers. and dear miss pillay would ask "why are you sitting so close to each other?" to which i replied "because we're good frens so we've to sit close together". we had to listen to french conversation on tapes and also french songs and i remember our fren duckie would come to me with a bored look on her face and say "please, nora i know u've some cassettes with you. lend me some" (it's well known at that time that i always carried R&B cassettes).

the part that we liked best was watching french movies. of course, we couldnt make out what they were saying, but there were subtitles. it was then that i watched the most romantic movie - of all time.

the title of the movie is Cyrano de Bergerac, starring the french legend gerard depardieu as cyrano himself. it's a movie set in the 17th century when musketeers were a legend. cyrano was a poet, an articulate speaker who always angered politicians and the rich with his quick tongue and was also the captain of the musketeers.he's in love with his beautiful cousin, roxanne, unfortunately, roxanne didnt notice his feelings for her - probably because he had a big portruding nose. then 1 day roxanne met a handsome man named christian, who was everything that a woman wanted, except that he was very inarticulate. christian, knowing that cyrano was her cousin, coaxed cyrano to write love letters to her. and so, the heartache began. cyrano loved roxanne but couldnt tell her. he wrote to her love letters under the instruction of christian, and the latter pretended that the letter was from him, but really, the words were cyrano's, and it was his declaration of love to his cousin. there was a romantic scene when cyrano stood under her window and declared his love for her (and yet the idiot thought it was christian). the 2 got married, and cyrano was broken hearted. at that time france was at war with a certain country (probably england) and roxanne made cyrano promise not to let christian out of his sight since christian was serving under cyrano's company of musketeers. during the war, cyrano missed roxanne and kept writing to her eventhough christian never told him to do so. and christian knew back then, that his wife wasnt in love with him, but was in love with the actual writer of the letter. so the poor man just let himself be killed by the enemy. for 14 years, roxanne mourned for his death, still keeping the last letter (which was found incidentally in christian's pocket). every saturday, cyrano would visit his beloved cousin at the monastery, always at 4pm. until that 1 particular day, when a certain politician decided to get rid of cyrano and dropped bricks frm above a building. they hit cyrano and he was bleeding. still, he kept on walking saying that roxanne would be mad if he was late. he arrived, and they had a conversation...roxanne didnt notice he was dying. then roxanne asked cyrano to read the then yellowed letter, the last letter. and when he started reading it, roxanne then thought "the voice...where have i heard it before?". she finally realised that it was cyrano who declared his love to her that night, and it was cyrano who wrote the letters. and wat was even tragic was that cyrano died in her lap.

yes, i cried buckets. it was really a good movie, and it caught the essence of love and sacrifice very well. so wat did i learn in french class? love.

A Dream Place

Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sounds!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day,
Feel the gladness of the May!
(Ode:Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early
Childhood by William Wordsworth)




Come, I’ll take you to a place
Where love sings melodiously,
And smiles dance in the sun
While laughter decorates the trees, the clouds, the lake.

The steps are lighter,
The heart sings that happy tune
You and me,
Come, I’ll take you to a place.

Where sadness has no meaning.
But only epicurean delights
To be savoured.
Come, I’ll take you to a place.

Come, I’ll take you to a place
Where hopes live strong to become reality,
And faith is solid as the tree roots
And love as steadfast as a rock.

When Raya Beckons

A long, long time ago, perhaps 20 years ago, when my siblings returned from KL for raya, everybody stayed under one roof. so there were families sleeping in the hall, at the living room....everywhere that they could find space. their children were still small then, so it didnt matter.

in the 90s, we spent raya in KL, and it was ok because we spent the 1st day alone visiting all the siblings' houses. i remember my filipino sis inlaw forgot to tell her mother not to eat a lot at each house, so her mother was really se'eh by the time we went to the 3rd house. but then, spending raya in KL wasnt that nice. it just wasnt right, somehow.

in 1998, after i was posted to KT, the whole family came back in high spirits, all 7 families, since this was was the 1st raya in KT after a few years in KL. but there was 1 teeny weeny problem - no space to accomodate all 7 families, since the children were either around my age or younger. so the most sensible thing to do was to stay in a hotel. i think that raya was the most fun raya, as all gathered here and was excited to go and visit all the relatives in kampung that we hadnt seen in years.

in the subsequent years, when my brother the director was transferred to KL, there was 1 vacant room, and this became the most sought after room every raya. however, my brother always returned early and claimed the room. last year, when my nephew Ayi was working in the hospital here, my sister and the family could stay in the room, as Ayi said it "i'm booking the room for my family" while the rest sighed and stayed in hotels. this year, hopefully, the room is reserved for them as i told my brother jokingly that he should make way for my sister, after all, he's a VIP now and can stay in hotels. the rest of the siblings already made bookings, and 2 days ago, my eldest nephew called to say he's planning to raya here and could i please book a room for him? *sigh*. my favourite brother called and called to tell me to order nasi dagang from our cousin who sells nasi dagang at Batu Buruk. and could i please go and buy keropok for him? and can i bring my sis in law to the jewellery shop before raya? *sigh again*.

yes, this happens only once a year. but it doesnt matter, because it's raya.

in raya mood now. can hear saloma's song in my head.

The Fraternity of Literature Scholars

when i first enrolled to do my postgrad in 2001, i didnt know wat i got myself into. i understood that i took the road less travelled by, as Frost writes it, but i never knew the impact it was to have on my life.

unlike the other majors which attract a lot of students such as medicine, education, business admin, economics, law and computer science; english literature attracts only a small group of people probably because only bookworms can stand reading 4 novels a week, and those who are poets and writers at heart can understand the aesthetic values of the literary texts.

in the 1st semester, i met Kak Non and Kak Fazi, who, like me, received scholarship, but theirs was from BPG and mine was under federal scholarship. we bonded immediately, and had dinners and lunches together in bangsar with another coursemate, Jayasree, also a teacher who had to dash here and there as she's in a sports school. there was Elison, a very witty lawyer, (but then again, which lawyer isnt witty? i know a lot of lawyers...they always have something to say about something) who thought that literature would be a breeze, just like the paper she sat for STPM. hmm...she would always arrive late for our Friday afternoon classes, in her lawyer ensemble of black and white, and Assoc. Prof Dr Su would frown at her and remind her to not be tardy again. it was also Elison who was barred from entering the library for 2 weeks because she was caught talking to her client on the phone in the library *grin*. then there was the fresh Literature graduates - david, christine, emily and puphinder. the first few months were hard since we didnt understand wat the lecturers wanted, but they were the ones who eased the tension in the class. they were the ones in charge of photocopying handouts or novels or literary criticisms. then there was Kasi, a quiet man from Sg Petani. a thinker, but doesnt say much. and Tik Shaiza who like Jayasree, had to dash from her school to class and was always tired.

it was harder for us, because this was not a lecture style class. this was a seminar style class and each of us was responsible in covering a certain writer or, for literary theory, a certain theory or theorist or philosopher. and wat i meant by covering a certain writer was that we had to read at least 2 novels of that writer (for the paper presenter) and to discuss an issue, say, the impact of colonialism in Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness or the feminist perspective in Margaret Atwood's novels. the lecturer would be throwing questions, and then we would discuss. i remember that we were once told to stay put during our 20th century literature because we didnt finish reading Virginina Woolf. we would come early to class and sat down to finish reading th novels. nearby, the M.Ed. students were noisily discussing their assignment. we were quiet. those were the days.

the class that i enjoyed the most was The Rennaissance, simply because the one who taught it was Prof Lim, the most noted Literature lecturer in Malaysia. we would gawk at him when he started reciting Shakespeare or Donne or Milton out of nowhere in that deep resonant voice of his. he was later my internal examiner for the grading of my dissertation. the subject which was really mindboggling was Literary Theory, because we had to read up a lot of theories and who said wat that it was all a blur. the only theorists i can remember now is Genette (who wrote abt narratology), Barthes (the death of the author), Foucault (i hope to god he's the one who wrote abt deconstruction and abt knowledge being the power), Freud (yes, the perverted man who thinks everything is governed by desire, and that baby girls have sexual desire for the father and baby boys have sexual desire for the mother), Lacan (who wrote abt our alter ego), the feminists Simone de Beauvoir, Helene Cixous and postcolonial theorists such as Stuart Hall and Homi Bhabha. yes it was mindboggling...not to say the least, and the only one who excelled in this (in fact, excelled in every class) is my fren Nash. we told him not to ask us questions if we're presenting...and if it's not our turn, we told him to talk a lot so that the lecturer wouldnt ask us questions. nash impressed the lecturers, naturally... we would spend saturday lunches together, talking nothing else but literature. yes, to some of you it's boring, but it's actually mind stimulating. then there was iris madonna de cruz, but who is a muslim actually. a typical motherly type who was there to give me advice but was clueless about computers.

all of us are in this battle together, and wat my supervisor told wasnt nice to hear "not everyone who take this course can graduate". it's true wat she said though, because so many of our frens have given up. but it was during this time, when understanding, patience, perseverance were needed, that we would give our shoulders to cry on to each other. it wasnt easy to write a 7000 word essay for the final exam. it was difficult to write up a dissertation of about 30 000 words and then to meet the high standards that the English Dept has set. there were tears of frustration, and of dejection, of self-esteem going down the drain. Dr Carol was so sweet to enquire abt the progress of my dissertation and to give suggestions. i would say that Kak Non was there for me when i was frustrated. Nash was there to help me with the arguments, and David gave me pointers on the steps i had to take. some had left, like Elison, who is too busy with work that she doesnt have the time to sit n read (except for court cases). now that i've graduated it s my turn to help the others. i had a discussion with shaiza who is starting her dissertation, and sent her a book that i thought might help her. i pestered kak non to complete her edgar allen poe analysis. and nash... i told him to sit down and finish the dissertation..once and for all, instead of flying everywhere around the world presenting papers at lit conferences.
only through struggle do we triumph. going through this course, i realised that i'm a better writer, better thinker, able to present ideas critically and a better speaker. it also helps me to understand life better because literature is, after all, a slice of life. to the fraternity of literature scholars, hang on in there.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield - Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Song of the Sea: Solitude

The sea is calm
The gentle rhythm of the waves
Serenades her
With the song of deep longing
That aches and echoes her heart.

The breeze blows strongly
As if to drown her anguish.
Lost.
She sinks her feet into the sand
It tries to soothe her pain
With its welcoming embrace.
The palm leaves rustle in the wind
Making light of her subtle tears
Which are frozen in time
By the coldness of the memory.

Despite the outward smile
She bleeds in silence.

When Puasa Is Near

it is well-known within the teachers community at my school that makan2 is always held in the major staffroom (aka the female teachers) at my school. not once, not twice, but probably close to 10 makan2 events annually. the other staffrooms (we have 4 staffrooms - the female teachers, the male teachers, the form 6 teachers, and the staffroom for the blok bestari, which is almost another school, the media teachers room, the teachers in charge of exams in unit peperiksaan room, the library where teachers in charge of library are and the counsellors at the counselling unit) at my school only hold one major makan2 once a year. the thing is, once my staffroom holds a makan2, the whole community will come - that's 129 teachers, not including the supporting staff. and it's makan2 time from morning till the end of school.

there's this one teacher who simply loves to have makan2... she can cook for almost 100 people easily. and some of us in the staffroom also like to cook. not to mention that we love to plan makan2 events when there are certain cravings for certain dishes. sometimes there are potlucks, sometimes it's just calling the caterer...we just had a potluck last week. then last monday we had nasi kerabu. tomorrow we're going to have western style dishes, and yours truly volunteered to make spaghetti bolognaise for at least 40 people. thought of baking a cake, but i'm too tired to move at the moment. there's going to be baked macaroni, some pies, sandwiches... and on thursday, those who received cemerlang in their annual appraisal are going to organise another makan2! and the menu is nasi bukhari. *sigh*

yup...this phenomenon only appears when puasa is near...every single year. which is why dieting when working in this school is almost unthinkable.

Bad Experiences but Still Surviving

i read my gina's blog just now, and i can definitely relate to her. i guess that the species of good men are considered as endangered species, as the cliche' of good men are either taken by God, women or men are definitely true now.

in my quest of finding my soulmate (and i really mean a soulmate), i realised that malaysians in general like to make sweeping and most of the time very annoying statements. "you ni memilih sangat kot" is their favourite comment when i said i'm not married yet. oh really? then i should just accept any tom, dick or harry? like married men, drug addicts, psychos, liars and god knows what else? another irritating question "so kenapa tak kawin lagi?" DUH!!!! i would reply "i've no idea. why dont you ask God?". to those who know me well, they know that i'm not the type of a person who can mask her true emotions with a smile and honeyed words.

anyway, from my experience, men are simply, men. they lied, and then made no big deal of it. may be they think that due to their patriarchal rights in a patriarchal society, it's okay to lie to women, so long as they (the men) can gain something from it. this is male ego, alive and kicking, which breaks women's hearts.
i'm tired. really tired of this games. there's no faith in men anymore, although after prayers i still pray that god will send me a good man. probably, with the passing of time, i'll be convinced once again...

so to all those women who had had bad relationships and bad men before, this song is for you. it's my favourite.

Had A Bad Day - Daniel Powter

Where is the moment when we need it the most
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost
They tell me your blue sky’s faded to grey
They tell me your passion’s gone away
And I don’t need no carrying on

Stand in the line just ahead of the law
You’re faking a smile with the coffee you go
You tell me your life’s been way off line
You’re falling to pieces everytime
And I don’t need no carrying on

Cause you had a bad day
You’re taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don’t know
You tell me don’t lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don’t lie
You’re coming back down and you really don’t mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Well you need a blue sky holiday
The point is they laugh at what you say
And I don’t need no carrying on

You had a bad day
You’re taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don’t know
You tell me don’t lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don’t lie
You’re coming back down and you really don’t mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

Sometimes the system goes on the blink and the whole thing it turns out
Wrong
You might not make it back and you know that you could be well oh that
Strong
Well I’m not wrong
So where is the passion when you need it the most
Oh you and I
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

Cause you had a bad day
You’re taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don’t know
You tell me don’t lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera don’t lie
You’re coming back down and you really don’t mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

On My Own

last weekend my bro abg zaki and sis in-law kak ah came. surprise of all surprise, they came by car. (my dear bro is a pilot, so for him it's way far cheaper to travel by air than by land) they told me the reason why. to whisk my mother away to KL (and leave me alone?!!!). naturally, the maid had to accompany my mother.

so here i am, with Fluffy. abg mi called to say that he's having a family gathering on saturday night...and i sighed...all those glorious food...they'll probably have some lamb chops and steaks... yum yum....abg mi teasingly asked "so are you enjoying your freedom?". not really. i'm scared. what with the recent burglaries in the area, i'll be insane not to be scared. i spent the 1st night alone, alone...woke up in the middle of the night, and then i realised i'd better take the teachers' advice i.e. to ask some hostel girls to stay with me. so after talking to their parents on the phone and asking for the warden's permission, i took 2 girls home, who met Fluffy, and agreed that he's the most mengada cat in the world. (very spoiled too). speaking of being spoiled, i admit that i've been spoiled, what with having a maid around. so without the maid around, naturally i've to do the housechores.*sigh*cant complain anyway, since the house is mine. it's nice to be able to cook for someone (since usually mother cooks) - i made spaghetti bolognaise (bellisimo! not too sour, the herbs are delicately seasoned and not too strong), very thick and rich roti canai, and penang char kuey teow.

the only problem is, i'm sleep deprived. so today, after the doing the laundry,mopping the floor, throwing a part of the old junk that mother refused to throw away, and baking my usual white bread, i just fell asleep. only to be woken up by Fluffy...asking to be fed...again.

a day in miss nora's teaching life

clocked in. greeted and smiled at teachers. talked to some. then time for daily assembly. walked back to the staff room. wrote daily lesson plan, got ready the materials for the next camp.off to class.

walked up the stairs, met some boys hanging by the corridor.

"tuck in your shirt!".

walked straight to class. idzuan was absent again. revised on an excerpt taken from Macbeth and Yeats' poem. told them to write down the poems. started walking around the class. the boys were talking softly to each other, looking at my shoes. a loud whisper,
"tengok kasut teacher tu"

"stop looking at my shoes!"

wore a pair of brown Carlo Rino ballet slippers with ribbons. more were looking at my shoes. started teaching them. was in my element as i was teaching them literature. real, pure literature. finished class.

12noon. 2nd class. revised on The Prisoner of Zenda. they read the book. went around the class. more looked at my shoes.

"stop looking at my shoes!"

one boy looked as if he's so into reading as he rested his head on his arm, which rested on the table. the book was in his lap. hmm...something's not right. knocked on his table. didnt look up. 2nd knock. red eyes looked up, startled.

"dont sleep again, isamuddin, or else i'm going to tell your father" (his father is the discipline teacher)

the monitor, aki, was being himself again. he whined today. hareez was making a lot of comments. didnt stop commenting and said something obscene.

"hareez, i'm going to chilli your mouth and chlorox your mind".
asyram laughed "how are you going to pour the chlorox in, teacher?".

told them to summarise each chapter. they were stunned, response was slow. that meant they didnt revise. made them write on the board. well, finally they did it. work done. sighed. walked out of the class.