organised chaos

Salam all,

I’ve read the comments to my previous post and had my fair share of laughs. Thank you for seeing the humour in it girls! I’ll have to respond later though, because thoughts at the moment are too jumbled up to give a coherent response.

As for now though, I’d like to share this video which has one of my most favourite nasheeds ever, and a few reminders should we lose our way in this fast-paced world. I know it sounds major cliched, but masya Allah I’ve been there, I’ve lost sight of what was real, and this in a way has helped me refocus..

..as I hope it does you Insya Allah.

Enough said here.

Currently Playing: The Weepies - Not Your Year (a song from M)

It’s been quite the weekend.

I had 2 finals paper on both Saturday and Sunday morning, and had almost zero time to study for them last week. Work on Friday finished late as usual, so preparations for the paper only began very early the next morning, circa 3am.

The problem is I haven’t been feeling well lately. It’s been raining almost every day, and since my car is always parked about a km away from my building, I’ve learnt that blazers in general do not make very good substitutes for umbrellas. Fever episodes came over the span f 5 days, and by Friday I was well worn out.

After my Saturday morning paper, I had to go to the office for a discussion with the boss over a submission I’m working on. It needed revising. By the time I reached my workplace, I could actually feel all my internal systems shutting down so I went to the basement surau, prayed and decided I’d take a 5 minute ‘power nap’ (which eventually extended to 45 minutes instead. I was out cold). The rest of my Saturday was spent at the office, and I got caught in the rain yet again afterwards.

I think Saturday was pretty much the last straw, because my fever came back with a vengeance, rendering me completely unfit to even drive to uni for Sunday’s paper, never mind sitting for it. All I was thinking as I dragged myself over to the uni clinic was: ‘Please just give me an MC without making me beg for it, I just want to go home and be sick in peace without worrying whether I’d have to repeat this paper.’ Fat chance, as it turned out, and now in addition to feeling absolutely crappy, I have another headache to worry about.

This, along with finding time to renew my passport, renew my road tax, prepare my fair order to be filed and served, preparing for the next 2-3 upcoming cases, ongoing research and studying for my remaining 2 papers…this is all just too overwhelming for me at the moment. Plus there are friends I’ve been planning to meet since time immemorial, but social plans always fall at the bottom of the barrel of priorities. Other obligations always come a-knocking at the last minute.

Sunday was spent in bed, and rightfully so.

Now I have a story to tell, to be superimposed on this backdrop of chaotic madness.

After my paper on Saturday, I was subtly ambushed by two lecturers who wanted to see me privately. I was led into a pantry, where there was a table with 3 chairs; two for them, one for me. Sitting across them, I had a sudden feeling this was what it was like to be interrogated…except interrogation rooms are perhaps less cheerful, less flowery and wouldn’t have food lying around.

Anyway, long story cut short, the first thing they asked got me puzzled at first.

“Are you available?”

and I thought, um..yeah. For what, a project or something?

Since I paused, the next question became clearer:

“What we mean is, are you currently attached? Seeing anyone?”

and that was when I actually froze up. No kidding, satu badan terus kejang.

“I’m…available. But when I say available, I mean in the sense that I’m single, unattached, there’s no one special in mind, and I’m not currently looking.” This all came tumbling out quite quickly.

I can give them extra credit for bluntness and being straightforward because the next line was:

“Ok, we won’t beat around the bush. We’re matchmaking you. There’s someone who…”

And I think I blanked out the rest of the conversation. I remember bits and pieces, but it’s something I’ll only relate in person. It’s definitely something I won’t forget. I can’t even say what I felt, honoured perhaps, that they’d consider me, terrified, amused, uneasy, tickled…everything. It felt like a tragic-comedy, and as the whole scene played out, I felt so removed to everything, like I wasn’t there, and this wasn’t happening. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do or say, so I stared back disbelievingly and made gestures where appropriate.

How do I tell my elders I don’t believe I’m the sort who’s wifey material? I’m just not the type, and I can tell from their description of the type of girl he’s looking for that I don’t fit the bill. I’ve established that I don’t fit anyone’s bill for a long time now, and even more so now.

Looking back at it now makes me shake my head and laugh, but at the same time, there’s this whole other serious dimension to it that I’d never thought I’d see before. Now that I’m over being caught off-guard, I thought I’d get a clearer vision of what just happened that day. Instead, it’s quite the opposite. It must have something to do with the fact that this is murky ground that I’ve never had to tread on before.

If you’d like to know what my answer was to their proposal, you’ll have to ask me in person. This is all I can say, for now.
Oh in other news,

(and this has much more significance I think)

LUTFI’S HOME FOR HIS SUMMER HOLIDAYS.

Best silver lining, Alhamdulillah.

(Try to) have a good week ahead everyone.

Enough said here.

Enough said here.

I wrote last night.

First time in many, many months.

I picked up that pen, and in my half-awake stupor I wrote myself to sleep.

Now I’m looking at my bound journal, lying there on the dressing table, with absolutely no memory or recollection of what I had scrawled on its pages.

I’m almost afraid to open it to find out.

Enough said here.

I was in court the other day, in the elevator, waiting for it to get to my floor, when the girl next to me turned and said:

“I just love your blazer. It’s so chic. Where’d you get it?”

Even in a cold dreary place with such solemn faces around us, we can afford to comment on our outfits so business-like and professional.

I had to laugh.

Enough said here.

i’m tired.

enough said here.

I dread days which are supposed to be your happiest.

Days which you specially mark on your calendar.

Days which you’re supposed to always remember.

Your birthday

The day you leave university

Your graduation dinner

Your convocation day

Your short call day

Whatever

Days which I specially reserve to be specifically stored away as a good memory always turn out in ways I’d rather forget.

I hate these stupid ‘memorable milestone’ occasions.

If I ever got married, I’d probably hate my wedding day too.

The more special the day is supposed to be, the worse it becomes.

I don’t want to be reminded of upcoming events anymore.

I just don’t.

Enough said here.

Currently Playing: DC - Stolen

Exceptionally knackered at the moment, but writing feels nice right about now.

It’s been crazier than usual lately.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been involved in 2 committees to help out for the firm’s annual dance and dinner. Late nights were either dedicated to work or meetings/painting for props and decoration of the ballroom. Also, R roped me in to help him work something out for the chambering pupils’ performance. Apparently it was compulsory that we take part in Talentime and compete against the staff members.

The dinner came and went last night, and currently I’m trying to muster enough energy to get up from this floor right now to work on my submissions, due tomorrow. Truth be told, I really don’t want to move until maybe tomorrow. Or beyond that. Beyond that would be nice.

So yesterday went like this:

Had classes in the morning, went to the tailor to fix my dress in between classes (its zipper broke at the very last minute - thank God for tailors in UIA!), had an exam, headed home but got stuck in a jam that lasted more than an hour, grabbed things from home and rushed to the hotel, ran through rehearsals, got dressed up immediately (Abby had to do my eye make-up because I’m just hopeless at these things), ran through the programme with the Head of all Floor Managers, cleared up all hiccups, and basically worked the night away, prompting MCs, giving cues for performers to go onstage and working backstage, performing for a bit for Talentime before going back to work. By the time it was all over, it was already past midnight and the buffet table had been cleared up. I did have small bites in between everything, but it was a little sad. Since it was too late to drive home alone safely, I crashed at Aufa’s place for the night with Abby. The 3 of us went to get some food first though - the blessings of 24-hour mamak stalls.

I saw my second boss perform last night. It’s an image I’ll never forget - he was dressed as a woman and when I got into the FEMALE changing room after my performance, there he was wearing his fake boobs. Aufa let out a strangled cry and both of us couldn’t stifle our laughs for long. We stumbled back out and looked for another place to change. Aih, what a night.

I should probably mention here that we won the Talentime Award, and now the 14 of us who took part are RM800 richer! It was a close shave though, by 2 points from the judges. I’m glad Alhamdulillah. After cracking my head trying to come up with a good dance, countless videos of fan dances and incorporating the other girls’ input on what I can include, and matching it to Aufa’s music, the girls did a great job onstage! As for the guys, all I can say is I’m immensely proud at how all of them are such great sports. Theirs were all stunts and kung fu power, ours was to create a demure effect with our fan dancing. Thinking about the guys last night, my firm must have a 6th sense when it comes to choosing guys as chambering pupils because all of them, no matter how annoying they can get, are such gentlemen. They really are. Except when they get drunk. In which case I don’t stick around for long. Because as funny as they are when they’re tipsy, it isn’t something I can stomach for long. Last night was a bit of an eye-opener, in that sense.

The theme for the dinner was The Orient Express: Destination - Shanghai (which is funny because the OE is based in Europe) and since I had a spare cheongsam laying around I threw that on. We had a train set up outside the ballroom, and all these cool old posters and signs from 1930s Shanghai which looked wonderful. At the beginning of the show, drummers came on to do the whole Chinese drum performance which was pretty awesome. I had a chat with one of them behind stage, trying to keep them pumped up for the show because it was delayed at first, and he was such a friendly one, cracking jokes and all.

I wish I had photographic evidence photos to show what went down last night, but I don’t have a camera to begin with, and didn’t have time to take proper shots anyway.

I did open up my fortune cookie this morning though

to which Luqman scoffed “That’s not a fortune, that’s just some indie quote!”

I shrugged.

Enough said here.

It pulls me in 27 different directions

Sometimes it skips a beat at the mention of the wrong name

Sometimes it makes me soft and sentimental

helpless at the sweetest notions

Sometimes it clears my head

slaps my face

helps dust off all those fluffy clouds

and pulls me up to my feet

to get things done.

Sometimes I can feel it burst with so much heat, so much anger, so much hate, so much need for vengeance, for justice,

And the best part is when Sometimes happens all at once.

Sometimes I know what I’m feeling

And I know why I’m feeling it

Not being confused though, doesn’t make it easier.

You know you have to ride it out, but it still bothers you.

And it bothers you that it bothers you,

I used to have much better control.

Enough said here.

“My feelings dismay me. I so rarely control them. They are their own kingdom, too primitive to be a republic, and when they want to, they send their armies to batter me. My total self should include feeling but I do not know how to make a treaty with that warrior state. When I was growing up I rebelled against feeling and now my feeling rebel against me.”

- Gut Symmetries, Jeanette Winterson.

Enough said here.