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.

sensationalism in mass media

well well well...a tv station wore a smug smile because it bought the rights to televise the so-called "wedding of the decade". then, two other stations felt that they should get a piece of the cake too. so they decided to televise an interview of a certain rising star and his ex fiancee'. talk about sensationalism. talk about manipulation. and malaysians seem to fall for it. hmmph.

i flipped the channel to astro ria. ok, there was mawi and ina... 9pm. flip. ok, i saw siti walking towards the dais with datuk k. they sat down on a love seat. the tv commentators said that the theme was supposed to be a garden wedding while maintaining the malay tradition. didnt see any of it except for the newlyweds' ensemble and the bunga telur. the bridesmaids were slowly fanning the newlyweds, the fans resembled more like what Cleopatra used a long time ago.... siti was radiant. a bride's radiance. but datuk K's face was troubled. i wonder why. then they shot the front view. datuk k's face was hidden by strands of jasmine...or is that stepnotis? well, after that it got boring. flip. ah! the confessions of mawi and ina....the oprah style. but that got boring too... mawi didnt want to talk about his personal life. he doesnt look like the sort who tells the whole world. i dont blame him. i blame the media.

so what can we conclude here? that it's all hyped up and these people are just like us. in the end they go through the same mundane life as we do. that there are always manipulators.
flip. channel 17. ah! they're showing House. at least i had a good laugh listening to Dr House's cynical and witty remarks.

bills, bills, bills

it is also universally accepted that at the end of the month (depending on when one gets one's salary, whether on the 1st, 15th or the 25th), one will be suffer a dry spell... as in one's pocket will no longer jingle, there is no fat wad of notes in the purse/wallet, and instead of splurging at chilli's sinking one's teeth into succulent steak, one eats a RM1.50 nasi lemak.

my situation got worse this month since i had to travel to KL for 3 weekends in a row for my convo (1st trip to get my robe and attend the rehearsal.had to go bcoz there's a demo on how to wear the robe and the hood. 2nd trip was my convo.3rd trip was to return the robe and claim the certificate fr. the inst. of postgrad studies.) i wonder if UM ever considered that they have postgrad graduands who are working outside KL. what a dry spell... really musim kemarau. kering. felt like trudging the Sahara desert. trudging...drooping...drooping...salivating at the sight of pretty Nine West heels..nice gold bracelet at Habib *sigh*...drooping...falling...falling...

anyway, my spirits are revived when we the ever so loyal govt officers got our salary...hallelujah!! helloooo world!!! it was hell on the road that day...it seemed like i wasnt the one affected by the dry spell... it's raining money, and everyone's out to play. the roads were congested. parking was hard to find. there were long queues at the ATMs.

but of course, the joy didnt last long. bills just kept pouring in at the letterbox. *sigh*. i went to buy a new pair of walking sandals just now... and i was shocked to learn that in the course of 2 years, the price of the sandals had gone up by RM15. geez. and of course, nowadays, in KL, a decent nasi lemak (with all the works) will cost around RM3.50 to RM5. when i was studying at PPP, i remember eating that amount of nasi lemak (half of a hardboiled egg, a fried chicken) that cost around RM1.50. those were the good ole days...

and back to the present time. still stuck in the vicious cycle. replenished and sunny day. then later as dried up as a raisin in the desert....

Humility:back to the basics

it is universally accepted that when one has achieved a certain station in life i.e. to achieve financial stability (or precariously hanging to it with credit card debts), one decides that he should be rewarded in terms of materials - a nice car ('nice' is very subjective - ranging from myvi to a BMW), a house (ranging from an apartment that looks like a small box to a bungalow that costs RM1million), an expensive handphone (usually with features that one is clueless about but buys it anyway because it looks 'cool').

it is not wrong to spend money, and it's not my point for writing this. however, when one is used to comfort and wealth, one grows soft,and actions that we did a few years ago would deem as beneath us now. i'm not criticising anybody, because i'm guilty of this too.

i'm about to go to UM to return my robe and to get my MA certificate. i'm not going by car, and at this time i sorely miss my wira. i remember those times during my sabbatical leave when i could just jump into my car and go anywhere i like in KL. ah, the comfort! but i take this as a challenge. because there's nothing better to educate yourself than to return to the basics. it teaches us humility, and along the ride with fellow commuters, one can learn a new thing or two.

Perception and Reality

our society simply loves to label people, and sometimes the labelling goes to the extreme until we've become too biased and hold on to our perceptions and beliefs steadfastly, like clutching tightly to a drawtring purse full of coins.

i was talking to a friend in KL recently, and she told me of a mother's opinion in the website ummikusayang - who claims that teachers are lazy and work half a day. my initial reaction to this is indignation, but now i feel sad for this mother, it seems that she's been living in the world of the past. in defence of the teachers, i would like to say this :

1. that without teachers, nobody is willing to babysit the students 6 hours a day, 5 days a week.

2. also, a teacher's job is not simple, we dont only teach, we TRY educate the students. this means we try to inculcate moral values to them. but if they're still rude and hopeless, dont blame it on us, because we've tried. they have your genes.

3. again, we dont only teach, we are also in various committees for all the events held at school. this includes sports, extra classes, academic camps, annual camps at remote areas that even YOU dare not go. and all these events are for the benefit of YOUR children.

4. again, we dont work half a day. we have extra classes during weekdays. we have extra classes on saturdays. we have books to mark. and, for those teachers who only teach exam classes like me, we have to mark exam papers 4 times a year. i have 150 students. so, 150 scripts x 4 =600 scripts a year. we dont only mark exam papers during school hours, but also after our school hours, school hols....talking about school hols., some of us are sent for courses or seminars or workshops, as ordered by lembaga peperiksaan, or kementerian pelajaran, or jabatan pelajaran negeri, or pejabat pelajaran daerah.

5. i would like to ask that particular mother, what would she be like if she had no teachers? she can insult us, but we get the pahala for teaching the kids.

however, not only the teachers are attacked. i overheard a few friends talking, and they were condemning the doctors at public hospitals. my late brother was a medical specialist. a damn good one. one of the best in the country. he was offered to work in private hospitals, but he declined because his sole purpose was to educate young doctors in public hospitals. my nephews are doctors. and i've another niece who's still studying medicine. 3 of my seri puteri classmates are doctors, with one of them holding an MRCP, and another one is a dentist. in defence of the doctors at public hospitals i'll just say:

do not belittle the new doctors. they have to start somewhere. give them a chance. after all, you were like them when you started working. so dont be vicious. anyway, they know more than you do about your health. they have the licence. you dont.

the moral of the story? do not be too quick to judge people and be humble. it will get you somewhere.

Continuing the Pursuit of Knowledge

i'm a lover of books. given the choice between spending RM200 on books or cosmetics, i'd prefer to spend my money on the former. cosmetics doesnt last forever, besides it only boosts one's vanity, but books open a whole new world to us - in the way we perceive life and people, as well as expanding our vocabulary (which i always preach to my students, but they never listen)

yesterday i bought another 3 books from kinokuniya - one is about the islamic way of life, one is war and peace by tolstoy and another is a seminal work The Prince by the philosopher Macchiaveli (whom i've quoted in my thesis). because i believe that having a masters degree doesnt make me a person who knows more, in fact it makes me realise that there is more to be learnt.

right now i'm reading The Life of Pi by Yann Martel, who won the man booker prize in 2002 for this novel. martel employs the post-modern style in the structure of his novel, however, having said that, i find the earlier part of the novel too laborious to read because of the explanation about zoology and the animal behaviorism. martel should have captured the readers interest from the start, with some interesting lines. he switches point of view during the early part, but seems to abandon it when his character Pi is shipwrecked and alone in a lifeboat with a tiger,a hyena and a zebra. havent finished reading the book, but i cant say that it impresses me at all.

perhaps war and peace will fare better.

The Graduation

the alarm went off at 5.30. i woke up groggily, and looked at the bed so longingly, but i knew i had to wake up. for it was my graduation day (yeee haaaa!!). had to wake up early to put on the robe and the hood (which reminds me of the olden days when scholars were monks in cassocks and hoods). the assistant registrar already advised us to come early as to avoid the jam near the main entrances of UM. so kak dah and i made our way from ampang to UM at 6.30am.

as we reached there, i saw fellow graduands all in their robes, with long tails at the side (which differentiates us from the 1st degree graduands) with colourful hoods which also differentiate us from the other faculties. incidentally, the arts faculty's hood colour is pink. glorious pink :o). we were supposed to assemble at bangunan peperiksaan, and all the while, all were either pinning their hoods or readjusting their mortar board caps before we were called to queue according to our numbers. i met some seri puteri juniors there too. one is fr my fac, and the other is from law. the procession then began, and the traffic in UM was standstill near the DTC as the guards let us cross the road. this is our day.

near to 9, the academic staff entered and i saw the english head of dept, dr agnes yeow. then raja nazrin arrived. we only saw him through the big screen. never mind, he was going to present us the scrolls.

waiting for your turn is a suffering. the arts fac was half down the list. i was very restless and started shaking my legs until my fellow english lit graduand told me that according to chinese superstition, shaking one's leg is sure to drive away the money. soon it was our turn. there was supposed to be 4 english literature graduands, but only 2 of us turned up. then my name was announced, and there i was, walking nervously (knowing that the camera was on me) towards raja nazrin, bowing to him, receiving the scroll, saying "terima kasih tuanku"... then...hmmm i cant remember whether i bowed to him again or not. well, never mind. i didnt stumble or trip on my shoes.

at noon, the ceremony was over. it's lunch time. my last meal was at 6.30 am and i was famished. so b4 taking pics, kak dah and i had lunch. after that it's action time, as we queued (and some jumped queue) to take pics at strategic spots (anywhere that has UNIVERSITI MALAYA in big letters and the logo). i was sweating profusely at this time, god only knows how thick the robe was. and in this hot weather. we went back at 2pm, still sweating after the long walk to the car.

today i'm proud of myself, because english literature IS difficult, and i've made it. MA English Literature, specialising in post-colonial literature, specialising in cultural hybridity and salman rushdie.

boundless gratitude to Dr Carol Leon and Dr Sharmani Gabriel, my supervisors cum Post-Colonial Literature lecturers; Prof Lim Chee Seng who taught me Rennaissance Literature and can quote Shakespeare at anytime and anywhere, Assoc Prof Dr Su Soon Peng who taught me the fundamentals of Literary Theory and Stylistics, Dr Sharifah Aishah Osman and Miss Alice Pillay who taught 19th Century Literature, Miss Wong Ming Yook who taught 20th Century Literature, and to Nasirin Abdillah, the genius in our class who helped me with the almost impossible to write dissertation.

next target: to obtain PhD and wear that nice beret with gold or silver tassle that PhD holders wear during convo and to shake hands with the handsome sultan azlan shah. though it will probably fry my brain to do PhD in Literature.

a million little pieces : a book review

this book, as usual, is featured in oprah show. oprah's staff all say that the book is a page-turner. so i decided to read the book.

what is different is that this is a memoir of james frey, when he was a heavy-duty alchoholic and drug addict. the story starts when he passes out and cant remember where he is, and then his parents send him to a rehab centre.

the story is about how he comes to term with his life. self-hatred consumes him, he also has the habit of pushing people away from his life.his doctor tells him that his addiction damages his liver, kidney and god knows where else, and says that another drink or dose of drug and he'll die. he is thinking of doing just that, but he is stopped by a rehab mate, who happens to be a mobster. this is the start of his recovery, his gradual faith in himself, his conviction that he'll stay sober, and his newfound love for family and friends.

this is a good read because it is a real story, by someone who has no pretensions and who has risen from being the misfit of the society to a real person.

i like the style of his writing. it's modern, conforming to the contemporary use of stylistics. he uses words with precision. short words that give impact,and also repetitions that sound poetic.

thumbs up.

Pre-Graduation Preparation

i cant believe it. i am finally going to walk on the stage and receive the scroll fr raja nazrin this wednesday. i went down to KL to take my graduation gown, the hood (guess the colour of the fac of arts' sash) and the mortar board. the gown looks a cross between a monk's cowl and a shapeless maternity dress. the next day, which was on saturday, we had the rehearsal at 11am for the postgrads. the undergrads had theirs before us. yup, you can definitely identify the postgrads - they look more dignified and matured. the assistant registrar briefed us on how the event would take place, and where we're supposed to assemble. then they gave a demonstration on how to wear the gown. the PhD graduates' gowns look nicer, it has more colour and they get to wear the beret. well, ours are similar like degree holders, with a slight difference in the sleeves. they told us to be careful when bowing to the chancellor/pro-chancellor and where we place our feet. it seems that last year, some tripped over their heels, some forgot where they're supposed to go, and there was a tall gentlemen who dropped his mortar board. they even wrote this on the lcd screen "the success of the convocation depends on you". pretty scary. so i cancelled my plan to wear my 2 inch heels and headed to midv and bought low-heeled pumps.

Real Women have Curves

the first time i saw the movie was featured in oprah show, i vowed to myself to watch the movie. last night, i got the chance to watch on hbo. it's a movie of an overweight latino girl (hmmm the adjective reminds me of myself). anyway, i'm not going to talk abt the movie.

i gained 3kgs and according to my niece asha the medic student, it's caused by depression. i guess she's right...what with the endless camps and papers to be marked, and the aftermath of the breakup, i turned to comfort food. i vowed to lose some weight for my convo on the 9th aug, but i lost only a kg. it doesnt help when i happen to love baking and baked chocolate mud cake, durian mousse cake, chocolate banana cake and god knows what else in the course of 2 weeks. it doesnt help either when nasi lemak is more appealing than a banana and an orange (which is supposed to be my mid-morning snack). i was off-course for awhile when my sister came back, since i've the tendency to eat more when family members are around. but i resumed my walk yesterday and this morning despite my sleepiness i dragged myself to walk again...*sigh*. wonder if i can lose another kg b4 the convo....

i've to go and take my convo robe fr the ips on the 4th. geez...they even have a special counter that we have to go thru' - the debt clearance counter...we're going to have a rehearsal on saturday...

Getting there

my ex missed call me twice yesterday. i dont know why he's doing this, but it's really @#@$%ing me off. anyway, he succeeded in communicating with me. and told me why he called. he was looking for a redemption and hoping that i would forgive him. hmmph...i said i cant. after what he did to me, i just cant.

nina told me that i've to learn how to forgive. yes i know, to forgive is divine, but at the moment i dont feel charitable. what i feel right now is wrath towards him. that's the surface of my sea of emotions, the mask that i wear. but i know that underneath it, some twenty thousand leagues under the sea is just deep deep anguish that i do not wish to feel and hope to ignore. this is the hardest part of the process - to endure. it's even harder when all my frens r in kl while i'm here. but then i still survive.

Entertaining Myself with Pulp Fiction

my seri puteri fren, anne, sent me 3 books for me to read. this is very kind of her, in a way this is her way of helping me to deal with my post-breakup phase. when we were at school, we were voracious readers. we read a lot of romances actually...so there were a lot of jude deverauxs, julie garwoods and judith mcnaughts.

anyway, back to the present time. she knows that i detest pulp fiction and only extol the virtues of reading pure literary text. so she sent me this note"hi nora, the books are meant for mindless entertainment (memandangkan kau ni lit major...silly chick lit stuff like these may not be your cup of tea)". there's confessions of a shopaholic - i finished the book yesterday. yes, at first i was gritting my teeth. trying to control myself from lashing against the book. or worse, toss it away. but i told myself that this is, like anne said, "mindless entertainment", so i kept on reading...all the while thinking of rebecca as a compulsive shopper (hence, a shopaholic) and a liar too (i thot of my ex). well, the novel is ok lah... (ok anne, i'm trying not to give any negative comments). am reading the 2nd novel....

The Birthday Girl: A Recapitulation of the Wonder Years

okay so i turned 33 today. when i woke up i received several smses from my tesl buddies fai n mozie n linda. thanx gals! went to school with my durian mousse cake and slightly cair lemon cheesecake. the durian mousse cake was a hit in the staffroom...hmmm...nobody could resist the durian smell. received more birthday wishes from students n teachers alike. but couldnt bask in the glory of the day bcoz i had to handle the 2nd phase of the pmr camp.

yes, i've come a long way. being the youngest, it didnt help at all when your siblings just spoilt u rotten with sweets n soft toys...n ur mother fed u nestum n raw egg yolk (euuwww!!! i ate that??). yes, i'm a part of the generation called the baby boomers, when comfort n abundant food began to exist in the malaysian society. when i was growing up, big plastic cassette was the trend when we wanted to listen to music. cant remember wat it was called, but i grew up listening to Boney M n the Bee Gees. when i was 5, my parents sent me to St Theresa's Kindergarten. while the rest of the girls' pinafore hung loosely to their bodies, mine was a perfect fit. i remember the breaks of tiny cookies n grape cordial drinks... then i went to SS1, i was either the top or the 2nd in the class...

then, i was offered to study in sek. seri puteri KL, where the seniors terrified me more than the teachers. yes, hostel life was tough at first, esp. when u've never been away fr home n u were told to cry a bucket full of tears to get a senior's signature. but it was fun after that, i got used to the life in a boarding school. it was fun watching scary movies under the black velvety sky on friday nites....n fun going shopping wearing our yellow baju rasmi (we used to think it looked better than tkc's green ones). at this time, the boy group to rule the day was NKOTB but i wasnt a big fan of them... but anyhow, i used to hear that the 80s has the best songs. i'm even listening to some of them now... like Heart's Alone.... or A-ha's Take on Me,... Tears for Fears' Everybody Wants to Rule the World which is the soundtrack for Real Genius, Spandau Ballet's True which i think epitomises the 80s, n Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time. the best movies in the 80s? Top Gun...the girls went crazy over tom cruise. he shot to stardom bcoz of that movie. i even wrote a story that was almost similar to top gun for my 1119 essay. the scariest movie at that time... must be the nightmare on elm street. the funniest? the police academy.

then, after spm, i got the federal scholarship to do b.ed tesl in ppp/itm n later ukm, where i got to know more than a hundred personalities. this is the time when i became a young adult, going to class n when the classes were over, it's shopping time with frens. we even negotiated with the ever so obliging n sporting lecturers so that we could have the fridays free so weekends started early. there's an eating place which is fondly called as The Junction by the ppp students bcoz it's located next to a junction...the name stuck until now...the place is crowded with students...n there're even certain stalls frequented by a levels students, tesl students, n mucia students. oh yeah i forgot...i MUST tell this story...i'm sure my tesl frens remember this clearly...the libray is known to be the place where u skodeng or cuci mata...n of all of its chairs, there's one that one must avoid or else face the consequences of being sniggered at. there's this 1 chair, when u sit on it, would emit a farting sound. yes, a farting sound... so just imagine a guy trying to act suave in front of a girl n sat on the chair...yup...very funny indeed...

life in ukm was quite hard...we had to leave our having-fun-days-in-ppp behind. it was assignments, assignments, as well as climbing the 96 stairs to our kamsis to n fro...to go to class...there were times when there's no water...so we had to wake up at 5 in the morning to bathe in the faculty building....bad bad experience... classes were ok, we were in jeans most of the times, the most interesting lectures n tutorials for me would be literature classes, n the most hated ones - everything to do with linguistics - morphology,syntax n semantics, phonetics n phonology - so when mr imran ho (now dr imran ho) gave his most-of the-time very incomprehensible lecture, i would come out of the lecture hall with very clean n blank exam pad...couldnt get wat he was saying since i was gawking most of the time...may be bayam understood him, she was the top linguistics student. my fav lecturer who became my mentor is mr hazidi abd hamid. he s very funny, n regaled us with his funny n interesting stories when he was a student in the UK. he was also, incidentally, the only lecturer i know to fall asleep during our weekly literature lecture in the hall... i could hear him snoring gently. he denied it of course. he became my academic exercise supervisor n told me to read jostein gaarder n kazuo ishiguro (i read both) n i thank him for opening a whole new world for me - that the mind can absorb so much through reading. i guess that was when i thought of doing my masters in literature.

the 90s saw the emergence of alternative music n the cranberries. my tesl batch had a band called kojo gilo... they actually bought electric guitars for their band n performed Zombie to us - with flair i think, after hours of jamming in kajang. i'm not really interested in alternative, by this time, i'm into hip hop n R&B so i had many many albums by boyz 2 men, all 4 one, babyface, keith sweat, r kelly, blackstreet, tlc, swv, silk, color me badd...bla bla bla...

then in 97 i graduated...wearing orange coloured robes!! geez...the teslians were loud enough...but did we have to wear the orange coloured robes? then the hundred of us parted ways...most of us became teachers or lecturers while some began to work elsewhere...i was posted to tok jiring, n it did me good. it was here that i1st wore tudung. but after teaching for 3 years i realised that i needed more...i missed the learning, the life of the scholar. so i applied to further my studies in UM, n i also applied for a scholarship. i got both. yes, literature is very interesting but it's very very tough... to be able to study literature, u've to be able to open ur mind bcoz discussions can be controversial n sensitive at times. we discussed politics, religions, sexual politics, cultures...it is here that i learnt to be critical minded, thanx to those scholarly discussions under the supervision of very good lecturers.

when my 2 years of sabbatical leave finished in nov 2003, i was reposted to sultan sulaiman - the school where all my siblings went (except for my eldest bro who was a true mckkian through n through). yes the students r colourful, they make me angry, they also make me laugh....

which brings me back to the present. in salman rushdie's midnight's children, saleem sinai claims that he is the sum of all the experience n the people in his life, i m also shaped by all these memories. a hotchpotch. a melange.happy birthday to myself.

facing 33 tomorrow

it's the eve of my 33rd birthday today. i'm not really excited about hitting another year. probably bcoz i've undergone some very tough times this year. so what does the 33 bring me? i dont know. but so far, being 32 aint bad. at the end of my 32nd year, i discovered a lot of things - a lying ex-bf, and that i can survive without such a jerk, that to finish my masters is a sweet victory since it was a 5 year-struggle, that i ve friends whom i can depend on, and that i can make a difference.

i welcome the 33rd birthday, hoping that the next year ahead will make me a stronger woman, as i said, able to make a difference, and in control of her happiness.

The Journal Of MY Life

The Journal Of MY Life

Nora's Poem: A Tale of A Wanderer

A wanderer never stops her journey,
Walking through a maze of blur shapes
I am trudging my weary feet,
To an unknown destination.
Worn till hopes are cracked to dust.

The wind howls,
Articulating the pain.
Tears course through the lifeless
Veins of earth.

The quest is too long
The treasure too elusive.
I’m bent by every failure,
Till I drop to my knees and weep bitterly.
Je suis fatiguee′.
Je suis fatiguee′.

Happily Ever After- A Contemplation... A Myth?

some people are born lucky - loving family, good schools, good friends, pierced by Cupid's bow, got hitched and start a family. they dont know how lucky they are.

we, the lesser mortals, the singles in the 30s, have a different story. sure, i'm from a good family full of high achievers, went to one of the best schools in malaysia, did my 1st and masters degrees, have a wide circle of frens and have a stable job. but it stops there. i'm not so lucky in love.

i was talking to my fren nina just now, and asked her how is it that a cad like shahul can be a nice cad? she said candidly, "because he's a bastard. he's just pretending to be nice". hmmm.... if cads and cons are nice, how do we tell the difference between the fakes and the real mccoy? it makes the search more elusive and nearly hopeless. is it?

both nina and i are undergoing tough phases in life. i am reminded of sex and the city, in one of the episodes, the 4 ladies have a discussion about the knight in shining armour. charlotte is frustrated "i've looked for him all my life. where is he?". and miranda, samantha and carrie look at her with pity and as good girlfriends, tell her what i'm going to say next. that in real life, though we are the real damsels in distress, there's no such thing as a knight who will sweep off our feet and rescue us from whatever is distressing us. WE have to be our own knights because this is our life. our own happiness is not dictated by men. we are the ones responsible for our own happiness. so girls, seize the day... carpe diem! go and get that masters degree...go and join that kickboxing class...life has much to offer.

i also remember a scene when the 4 ladies' fren is married and throws the bouquet. it lands at the 4 ladies' feet. none of them pick it up. moral of the story? girly wishes dont often come true. to live happily ever after with a man? - is highly overrated.

and that concludes Nora's philosophical ramblings for today.

surviving

they say every cloud has its silver lining. and i believe it. now, am back to being single. things arent so bad now (except at school, and i'm trying to get out now to fly to some ivory tower if there's rezeki). no tears drop, no ache in the heart. it's useless anyway. i'm trying to find myself again, and to pick up the pieces. at this time i'll start philosophising, (as most people who become single again tend to do) and probably take up some new hobbies.

yes, the future isnt bleak. i'm preparing for it. right now i'm surviving, and giving myself a chance to heal and to get the respect that i deserve

My Forbidden Fruit

There lies in the Garden on this Earth,
A fruit that you can smell its sweetness,
Tempting you to draw nearer and nearer.
To possess such loveliness.
But thorns fiercely guard the desired orb,
To reach is to be bled.
There it lies, my forbidden fruit...
My heart aching to possess it.
it sings to me, beckoning me.
But to possess it means my downfall.
Heavy as a lead i turn my back on the lovely orb.
My forbidden fruit.

memoirs of a geisha: a review

the movie came out earlier this year. i've yet to watch the movie, but according to gina, it's slooowww. well, i can just imagine that it's as slow as the da vinci code. i read memoirs of a geisha to gauge how good the book is. my honest opinion? it's too slow for me.

yes, the story opens a new world to us - the world of the geishas and their lives as entertainers (and as dignified upperclass gros). when i read the book, i wasnt too excited to know wat's going to happen next. i had to force myself to read more than 10 pages a day...and that says a lot, since i had to read a lot of difficult literary texts when i was doing my masters.

just like the da vinci code which received a lot of hoo haas from worldwide readers, this book didnt leave me a lasting impression. in fact, there's no impression at all, except that it's the type of light reading you can take up when you're at the beach or when there's a flight delay.

i remember reading kazuo ishiguro's the remains of the day which won him the booker prize in the 90s. sure, it's not as exciting, but the difference between a good read (usually that means literary text) and just plain pulp fiction is that a good read will lead you to ponder about life - truly ponder about life. the remains of the day is a story about an english butler, so dedicated to his work that he never realises the love the housekeeper has for him...later in his life when he's growing old does he realise his feelings for her. and then it's too late.

another tip: good writers dont present us the story, they want us to interact with it, so they dont reveal everything and let us wonder.

Redang Trip: A Breakaway

i dreaded going to Redang when they told me i've to sleep in a tent. this is, after all, a survival camp for the LCDS members, and unfortunately, as its teacher, i had to go.

The students were already grinning when they saw me at the jetty "can you survive, teacher?". they know how i'm like. frankly, i didnt know myself whether i could survive or not.
we didnt stay at redang. we stayed at the marine park at the smaller island called pulau pinang. i know this sounds like a cliche, but the water is really crystal clear aquamarine, and we could see corals n colourful fishes swimming and being fed by snorkellers.

as this was a survival camp, the students had to set up tents. the camp commandant was another teacher frm another school, and he instructed the students how to set up tents (while we the teachers stood by hehehe). we didnt do much on the first day, but that night, it rained cats and dogs. some tents were leaking so the poor students couldnt sleep. and because they're deprived of their beds, they were forced to become nocturnals and were singing the whole night. i didnt have much sleep either, listening to them.

the next day, we had snorkelling. i have phobia of drowning so after a few mins of trying and nearly drowning, splurting and swallowing the salty water, i gave up. my enthusiastic students were having a fun time and swam all the way to the marine park. they spent more than an hour there. after lunch we had a boat ride, going to the other islands. the commandant already told them they could snorkel at one of the islands. so they did.... twice at different islands. and then we stopped at pasir panjang...they still went snorkelling and i went to shop...after a day of not spending money. we returned to the marine park at nearly 7...n still, after 3 times of snorkelling, some of them asked if they could snorkel... we saw some baby sharks swimming some 2-3 metres away fr the shore... i remember the perikanan person telling us that the sharks will come down in the evening. we had bbq that night, the students had to grill the chicken themselves. then they performed some sketches, some were really funny.it didnt rain that night, and because everyone was so exhausted, it was a peaceful night.

the next day they had jungle trekking but i didnt go (remembering the gunung lambak expedition). after dismantling the tents and lunch, we cleared the campsite and had a prize giving ceremony. the students presented me with pink towels, calling me their "beloved cute miss nora who survived this survival camp". ah well... then we boarded the ferry. some didnt want to leave. i felt the same way too. but i miss my home.

all in all, it was a good trip. it's nice change, especially for me. spending time with the motley bunch of students is great.

the breakup

shahul finally called me yesterday afternoon. i asked him why, when i broke up with him last week, he came back and kept telling me he's not married. he said "because i didnt want you to do stupid things". yeah rite. it was a disappointing and heartbreaking talk - esp. when i found out that at the same time i was chatting with him on msn, he was also chatting with other girls. and he led me to believe he's single for more than a year. his excuse was that he didnt want to jeorpadise my MA thesis. again, yeah rite... more heartbreaking was when he told me he wasnt serious abt getting married to me (a lot of frens swore n cursed at this point) and that he felt guilty everytime we talked.

his wife is of the same age as me, a housewife. i pity her, because she doesnt know what a jerk and an s.o.b he is. and he loves her. it hurts me the most. and he still had the nerve to ask me to be his fren. only his fren.

i couldnt settle being his fren. i couldnt be his fren and suffer the thought that he has a happy life with his wife and children. it hurts too much, after all the betrayal, the lies....especially the lie that he loved me.

so last night i told him i'm going to block him. he panicked. i said it was best for everybody.
doing the right thing hurts. and love is so strong. eventhough he wronged me. but for the sake of my sanity i had to let him go. it's the hardest thing i've ever done in my whole life.

realisation

it's amazing how in just a matter 2 weeks my life has changed.after what i've been through, it feels more like a year. it makes me feel jaded.in one moment we can be happy, and then the next our life and hopes are destroyed by just one single information.

i found out that shahul is married with 2 kids.that hurts a lot, considering that he's living a lie for a year. considering i've invested a lot in this relationship. i still dont know why he does it. when my frens say "alaa men are like that". i dont accept that answer. there has to be a reason. but he has the nerve to deny it.dont know why he's so damn stubborn. he's a jerk i guess....an s.o.b. bcoz of him, i had a fight with a fren.i realise now that no man is worth arguing about.
i've been thinking about life a lot after that. i'm thankful that i have an understanding family (siblings who dont ask questions or offer unsolicited advice) when i dont feel like discussing.i'm thankful that i've a powerful brother which really makes me think of Foucault's theory of knowledge being a power. i'm also thankful that i have frens who really care. in times of adversity, these are the people who really give their shoulders for me to cry on. mozie was there when i received the confirmation. linda cried when she heard the story from mozie. nina who has been my good fren and advisor from the start. adi azhar cheered me up with his witty remarks.farah, who didnt tell me her plans to marry when she found out that my plan for a wedding was never going to be a reality. wan was there too, and we had a fun time in male bashing. abg lie is great as my sort of a brother (i guess) after what we've been through years ago.

i was in KL to escape and nurse my wound. so i went shopping with Gina (who again, as my closest niece, didnt ask or talk abt this until i mentioned it) and got myself hennaed on my hand...and then i bought 2 pcs of sarees (a reminiscent of a fictitious life that i thought i'd be living). i went to MPO chamber concert with fai, and had fun discussing the contemporary music pieces that we heard (such as, which piece made us sleep...or which piece was pleasant enough for our ears). i met wan who's matured for her age and reminds me a lot of nana. i met khairul, who is an idealist. i told him that ppl at his age tend to think that they can accomplish anything, including to conquer the everest. khairul is interesting though, not many young malay men are interested in philosophy and classical music. but he does, and i had an enjoyable time talking to him. yes, it s sweet when you think that at 24 you're full of energy and vibrance. like a rose in all it's glory. but then you will learn that despite your optimism, they will press you down, until you're beaten...

memories of him smiling at me are still in my mind, although this time i remember them as a complete sham.

yes, i've been pushed and beaten. i've loved, and been broken hearted by heartless creatures who call themselves men. mais c'est la vie....and life has to move on. i've to pick the pieces and rebuild myself and i'll emerge stronger.

teachers day

teachers day is here again. at school, it was a grand affair - the teachers had to walk the long walk with the students beating the kompang in front of us - until we were welcomed by dear students at the perdana square. there were the usual long boring speeches (which unfortunately, none of us listened to anyway), then there's the cake cutting ceremony, the release of the balloons and the pennant, some buah tangan fr the prefects and gifts from each class to its form teacher.

frankly, i've become cynical about the celebration. the students only know of this day as the day of no lessons. i wonder if they really know why they have to celebrate this day. it's like celebrating mother's day with a mother saying to the children "buy me some gifts because it's Mother's day and i'm your mother". that defeats the purpose, doesnt it? but then, children have to be taught to appreciate the very people who educate them. but all the same, how many of these students come to this realisation?

i dont really care for gifts, but i really value my students' well wishes, especially when i no longer teach them. the fact that they can still come and wish me tells me that they do appreciate me. today, some of the form 4 students did that although i no longer teach them. one of them who is now in TKC even called me from seremban just now. some from the drama team expressed their thanks, and one whom i taught literature in english as an extra spm subject called me up. it's this sincerity and genuine appreciation that matters

Triumph and Defeat

i got mail from UM the other day. it was not a letter, but a card... a congratulatory note from the dean of arts fac. so i 've passed :o). they misspelt my name though.

last week, my drama team went to compete in the state level competition. sad to say, we only managed to get the 2nd place. my students were very upset. i understand their frustration. i spent many hours with them, so i've come to know this bunch very well. it pained me to see them suffering - some girls cried, my best actor didnt walk up the stage to receive his trophy, and they refused to take lunch at the school which hosted the competition (and won). for me, it wasnt about winning the title. it's about being able to guide these teenagers, to laugh and cry with them.

These are the days

a few weeks ago, in an attempt to boost the morale of my budding thespians, i brought my photo album for them to peruse so that they may see the dramas that i was involved in when i was doing my tesl.

those pics reminded me so much of the younger carefree days. at that time the only problem i had was when i was broke. ah, i was so innocent then. i was so into RnB music at that time that i'd be with my walkman everytime we're free... i discovered david edding's wittiness in his books, and i had friends who manja me ... yeah i was the baby...

so when i saw the the pics, i wonder where did the happy go lucky girl go? the answer - she grew up, and faced the reality of life. sometimes i long for the uncomplicated old days...

Victory and Wedding Feast

i was in KL last weekend for yaya's wedding. a few days before i went, dr carol called to inform that i could submit the dissertation on friday. that meant that i've graduated.that means i'll walk up the stage to receive my scroll in august. Victoire!

we went to the akad nikah ceremony at masjid shah alam...the couple were in white...although personally, i prefer an off-white or cream ensemble...yaya and his wife...hmmm... the wife is very petite...while yaya is taller and bigger.the next day was bersanding at the girl's side.

after the bersanding, gina asha and i went to klcc...i splurged on books, as a way of celebrating my victory. i bought jamie oliver's and delia smith's books, and one gabriel garcia marquez's book, girl with a pearl earring and katherine... some may think that it's an odd way to celebrate...hey, it's a cool way to celebrate especially if u happen to be a literature graduate who likes cooking.

i came back on sunday morning feeling fatigued because of lack of sleep...thanx to my busmates who were mostly college students who could still sms at 1am...i really hate the sms sounds...and i really hate the tet tet sound of the keypad eventhough it's on silent mode. yes i was grumpy. had a long sunday as i had to monitor the drama team. the competition was today. and it paid off. we became the champion of kuala terengganu southern district english drama...and will be competing in the state level soon. at least my nagging paid off...

Drama,Drama,Drama

i'm in charge of the school's English drama this year, along with some other English teachers. the cast is a motley bunch of the veterans and the newbies. the script? too simple....

the other teachers cant comment much on the actors'/actresses' performances, but i was involved in a lot of English dramas...and being easily dissatisfied and that teacher's syndrome of being obsessive with correcting students, i tend to speak my mind. some of them are too stiff, as stiff as cardboard (i used to call 1 girl "the unbendable wooden plank" during my heyday as an actress in seri puteri's Shakespearean play, but then it's a different story), some think they know too much but they fail to see that they're still not perfect, some will be as goofy as ever despite their role as a gangster, some are just too emotional. all in all, i was very upset with their attitude that i just walked off from the school hall last week.

these students, i guess, didnt know the true meaning of being in a drama - and enjoying it. okay, granted, i hate the Shakespearean plays that i had to act when i was in Form 3 and 4, but i enjoyed the TESL dramas that i was involved in during those years in PPP. the most important thing is, we had fun. the tesl 4 had the talent for producing the most hilarious slapstick comedy, and i dare say that we're very talented and creative. i guess that's what made our dramas so memorable until i can still remember them even after more than 10 years. i can still remember blondie as the devil, with his supposedly evil laugh.... joe trying to find a good spot to die...pokcik and asmadi as the policemen trying to arrest the doctor from madras and then "rewinding" themselves in the process, the drama about Malay courting rituals, complete with the direct translation of the poems. try translating "2 3 kucing berlari". and then the drama about sultan melaka mangkat dijulang...with cromok as komeng with the habit of jerking his head to one side...

yes, it was our glorious days...i only wish those kids can learn from us so that they can become as happy and cheerful instead of becoming young grumpies.

trying not to sink

people in school saw me in gold kebaya with green leaf motis and green tudung, green handbag and green high heels. and yet nobody knows what i'm going through unless i tell them.

since last thursday i've been living my life like a zombie - i'm numb to all feelings, the surrounding... and worse, my migraine has come to visit and decided to dance the whole day (sometimes my migraine is like a rock concert - pounding on my head).

at night, after a visit to the loo, i lay awake, thinking about the dissertation...thinking about the literature essay i'm going to give to the students...and god, it's so warm that i've to switch on the aircond...and in the morning when i wake up i feel tired...

nash sent me some comments on my chapter 1. he's going to be a brilliant professor one day...but until then, i cant understand his comments...hmmm

to those of you who are familiar with my blog, you may notice that i'm slightly different today. this is the first time i really express what s going on in my head...
i'm trying not to sink in my anxiety. but it looks like i have.

These are the days

isnt it funny that when you're having a good time you dont notice how time flies? and when you're facing problems, you try to squeeze time to the last drop. if time can ever be like a lemon to be squeezed...

i'm into my 4th day of correcting my (at the moment, accursed) dissertation. my brain had been on holiday for half a year, so it received a shock...and so my blood pressure rose. at this time the only person who can help is my coursemate nash, who is our best student in class. the only one person that our lecturers offered a place at the prestigious english dept...to be with them.
well anyway, nash obliged my distress call and we met on saturday to discuss my dissertation. he didnt view my chapters then, but we talked about literature and his travels abroad when he had to present papers on literature. this was like the old days when we lunched after our classes. we didnt discuss other mundane stuff, we discussed issues in literature, about the works or authors that we had read. and no, contrary to other people's belief, it's not boring, simply because literature is my passion.

i felt calmer afterwards. because nash promised to help me by going through my chapter 1 hehehe.

The Return of the Nightmare

i've been postponing the final editing of my dissertation for sooo long now. after slaving myself reading academic books, especially the very dense Bhabha book, i just want to give my brain some rest and enjoy brain dead activities (not entirely dead la). i packed all the notes away, put all the rushdie's novels on the shelves, and instead of reading critical essays or journal articles, i now peruse and read recipe books. and obviously, honing my baking skills. after the sumptious tea yesterday, i thought, well, i should start editing the dissertation. i was given 6 months anyway. it's been 3 months now.

and lo, and behold....i called the dean's office and the girl in charge of the Literature MA students told me "you have to submit your bound dissertation first before the senate can meet and formally pass you". Arrrrrrrgghhhhhhhh!!!!! so i called Dr Carol, and told her what happened. seems like i've 2 weeks to complete the editing and courier it to her. she has 1 week to see my corrections, and i've 1 week to make final amendments and to go to UM in person and give the copies to be bound. *sigh*

i already pushed the heavy box filled with the notes back into my room. the bed is strewn with books and articles. Longman dictionary and literary terms and theory dictionary are beside me. there's the dreaded Bhabha book...."it is the emergence of the interstices-the overlap and displacement of domains of difference - that the intersubjective and collective experiences of nationaness, community interest, or cultural value are negotiated." bla bla bla...

oh no!!

Poems

i used to write poems. but eversince i started on my dissertation i stopped. to be able to write good poems, you do not only have to have the flair, but also a good knowledge of a wide range of poetry. that was what my undergrad academic exercise supervisor, mr hazidi, told me when he assessed my too-idealistic poems "you have to read MORE poems" and added "write when you're angry or sad or happy". well.... i took his advice. when i was in the final sem of doing my MA coursework, i took Stylistics (in other words, linguistics application in literature). much as i abhor the dryness of linguistics, i must admit that with the linguistics background i was able to criticise and analyse the poems better - that also means i know essentially what makes a good poem.

this morning, as i was about to write down the menu for the small tea party i'll be holding for my students tomorrow, i came across my book of poetry - written when i was experimenting with skills that i learnt in my classes. here i present to you the poems, but please do not plagiarise the works.

Ode to Batu Buruk Beach
At the sandy beach I stand,
Paying homage to an old friend,
Homeground.
My turf.
Palm leaves swaying to the roaring ocean,
Children playing colourful kites,
Murky waves unleash their fury,
They have seen much.
They know much.
The taste of nostalgia is deafening.
In my mother’s childhood days,
The puja pantai was celebrated.
Offerings made to the spirits of the sea,
Pagan dances under the moonlight.
The winds of the South China Sea greet me,
Two old friends are we.
In such powerful embrace,
I bask in the land’s love.
I’m a girl once more, of years ago.
I had abandoned you, I know.
But I’m here now, my friend.
The salty air is in my blood,
the sand, the sea, the palm trees…
The Land of the Seven Princesses is part of me.
Arms wide open I surrender.
I’m free! I’m free!
I’m the kite that soars high
I never lose ground
For you hold me firm and never let me stray.
Sounds of azan come with dusk.
I walk away with lighter steps.
I may fly again,
But I will always return.
Homeground.
My turf.

Music Box
While spring cleaning
I come across a memory.
The music box lies on the table
Dusty, forgotten.
I blow away the thin mist
and open the teak box.
Inside a lady and a man dance,
And soft melody plays;
Evoking memories of yesteryears
Of that particular time
Of that particular moment.
A time of happiness and hopes
To be dashed so soon.
It was just a fantasy.
It was a mistake.
The sweet serenade finally slows to a halt.
A salty saline drops on the two figurines.
I take a deep breath,
Slowly exhaling the old bittersweet story.
“Life must go on”
So I put back our love in the music box,
And let it dust away.

Faith

in life, we have to gamble and take risks in order to advance to the next level in our life. be it education, friendship, relationship, business deals, career wise, we sometimes cannot play it safe. why? because nothing is permanent (except for God). no house is big enough, no marriage is happy enough, no love is strong enough.

when i did my MA, some people thought that i was crazy - since in the 1st semester i had to travel to KL every single weekend to attend classes. teaching was one thing, then i had to write assignments and long essays! i didnt know how much i could endure, but alhamdulillah, despite the fatigue, my goal was clear and i was determined. then my sabbatical leave was approved, and everything was ok. the 2nd hurdle occured when i had to write my dissertation, which i think was the most difficult and challenging phase of all. i remember the time when i broke down after wiping out my 28 pages of a working chapter, the pressure was just too much. but i realised that i wasnt alone i received moral support from my coursemates. i learnt about myself, about how different people are. in the end, it all comes down to faith.

those who were, and are in relationships will agree that to be in one takes a lot of courage, and the longer you are in it, the greater your understanding of a person is, the more tolerant you are.
falling in love is the most exciting phase, the world seems to be smiling to you, and nothing can go wrong.
to love, however, is different. to love is to accept the other person's flaws, and to embrace his/her positive traits - and above all, despite all the ups and downs, to have faith in the relationship, and also to enjoy the relationship while it lasts.

"Stickwitu"
I don't wanna go another day,
So I'm telling you exactly what is on my mind.
Seems like everybody's breaking up
Throwing their love away,
But I know I got a good thing right here
That's why I say (Hey)
Nobody gonna love me better
I must stick with you forever.
Nobody gonna take me higherI must stick with you.
You know how to appreciate me
I must stick with you, my baby.
Nobody ever made me feel this way
I must stick with you.
I don't wanna go another day
So I'm telling you exactly what is on my mind.
See the way we ride in our private lives,
Ain't nobody getting in between.
I want you to know that you're the only one for me (one for me)
And I say
And now
Ain't nothing else I can need (nothing else I can need)
And nowI'm singing 'cause you're so, so into me.
I got you,We'll be making love endlessly.
I'm with you (baby, I'm with you)
Baby, you're with me (Baby, you're with me)
So don't you worry about
People hanging around,
They ain't bringing us down.
I know you and you know meAnd that's all that counts.
So don't you worry about
People hanging around,
They ain't bringing us down.
I know you and you know me
And that's why I say

Contemplation

Islam encourages us to work hard as if there's no tomorrow, and to do deeds as if the end is near. islam also teaches us to be moderate, and to be humble.

it's easier said than done, but however hard it may seem, if we truly believe in the teaching, we will strive to do better.

sometimes success makes one forgets of one's humble beginning. some people just want to wipe out their early chapters of life, and choose to bask in the glory of their greatness.
someone i'm working with seems to have lost touch with his early chapters of life. his arrogance and words hurt a lot of people's feelings. which makes his subordinates feel dissatisfied with his decisions (voiced in arrogant manner). may be he forgot that he's just a human being and not an immortal.

i remember the VC of UKM when i was a student then. he's the most humble person i know - personally checking whether the light bulbs were working or not during Pesta Konvo, parking his car at the big parking lot instead of having a driver driving up his car to the big porch of DECTAR after the convocation ceremony (his subordinates all had their drivers drove up to the porch). i once went to the chancellory...and saw him walking up to his PROs and said "boleh mintak tolong tak?" in the friendliest tone. this is the kind of a boss everyone wants.

yes, it's easy to become too pleased with one's achievements no matter how small or insignifcant they are. but remember that by being arrogant, you're just pushing people away from you, and in the end you will not have a person who genuinely likes and respects you. it is by being humble that one gains friends, respect and admiration.