Currently Playing: Outlandish-Try Not To Cry.
Clearly, lots of words are due and need to be said, as events in the past 2 weeks have proven. Unfortunately, Time has shown me with a great degree of smugness how annoying it can be when one doesn’t have enough of it.
I suppose this is the reality that is 2nd year. I think I’d rather not envision of what this spells out for me in the coming 3rd and 4th years.
—————
First things first: the Euro World Cup Finals 2006 World Cup Finals 2006 has come and gone. Admittedly, its a beyond stale subject to comment on, so let me summarise things briefly:
Jinxes really do work.
Too brief?
I’ll confess to having switched sides to Italy (France) midway through the game because the French seemed more dominant and forceful, although the Italians weren’t far behind performance-wise. Yes, the controversial head-butt left me speechless for the remainder of the match, but at this point, I understand why Zizou sacrificed the greatest oppurtunity to end his career in personal glory and self-gratification. In his words: I am a man before anything else.
Perhaps a matter of outrage that I feel a need to mention here was what Calderoli had said in the hype over the Italian win (undeservedly so) afterwards. Those actively involved in anti-racism movements, you might want to start with the Italian politicians. I have nothing to say in return to such vile words of prejudice and discrimination.
—————
I was spoilt for choice in choosing how to spend my Sunday today after sitting through Saturday for a full-day convention:
A forum in Masjid Wilyah on the status of Islam in the context of Lina Joy’s case
or
A Humanitarian Seminar in IIUM held in conjunction with Humanitarian Week.
It turns out I didn’t have to make a choice anyway; Ummi needed me home for assistance in household chores throughout the day…
which left me bummed, initially.
I comforted myself with the fact that I had some friends going to the forum, while Aufa was going to the seminar, and that they could fill me in later but it just wasn’t the same as going myself. Aufa didn’t help much by texting me, saying it was a great experience, so I’ll be retaliating soon with interrogations on what made it so great. Aufa, take note. Grr.
In hindsight though, at the end of the day, I made my own contributions and spent the day well. It was my mother after all, and I was selfish to have just thought of myself solely, giving no considerations to her and the waiting workload that was to be completed.
Your Mother! Your Mother! Your Mother!" said the Rasulullah PBUH.
Insya Allah, I think I can sleep tonight knowing I have done some good.
—————
Have you ever read a book which had a great potential to land in your Favourites List, only to find the ending didn’t appease you as much as you thought it should, or that the flow of the story leading to that end didn’t make much sense? You start to question the relevance of the unfolding plots within the story and wonder what the author’s trying to get at.
I finished Enduring Love with some reservations. Don’t let the title mislead you-I’ve had the unflattering honour of making people think I was reading dramatics of a neverending romance, when in truth I was caught up in a disturbing psychological thriller.
The book started out well, my IQ comfortable with its language and I absolutely loved the way the author expressed scenes both visually and emotionally. There were many things mentioned throughout that I clicked with-I just hadn’t found the words in which to convey them like the author had. He was successful where I had failed. He even expressed this when he wrote that it is wrong to assume that there is no thought when there is no language.
What contributed to this book’s failure to reach my List though was the overall feeling it left me after putting it down for the final time. It wasn’t dissatisfaction per se, more like feeling a little short-changed. Surely, there must be more to that?
What makes a good read anyway?
I’ve found differing opinions between people. Some say a book is worth devouring if putting it down is next to impossible, others say it is that feeling of sadness once the last page is turned and the story is ending its spin. Personally, if I like a book, I’ll read it as slow as possible and deliberate on its sentences for long periods to fully relish everything conveyed. Its like eating an exotic dish for the first time-you want to take in everything with all your senses. It engages your full attention, and you lose touch of everything around you. Reality dissolves and you’re sucked in the character’s world and the character’s mind. You become the character.
Ok, I’m funny that way.
But what do you think makes a good read?
—————
This is a definite mention. I had the oppurtunity to bump into Puteri and Afiq last week. Circumstances were strange, but Babush witnessed an "Oprah moment" when Puteri greeted me-we were embracing each other and yelling like long-long-lost sisters. I chuckle at the memory; it’s a good one. =)
Afiq himself emerged a few minutes later, just as I told Puteri I’ve never met the blogger himself. Irony is a funny thing.
Another ironic thing was that over the holidays, I was thinking of proposing to either LAWSOC or SRC to show Micheal Winterbottom’s Road To Guantanamo to IIUM’s students. Apparently the AiFest people beat me to it. There’s a viewing on Wednesday 26th July 2006 at 8pm at the Moot Court in AIKOL if you’d like to come see. Free admission, if I’m not mistaken.
I suppose since now I’ve seen Le Grand Voyage, Mardy’s lent me Munich, and Road to Guantanamo is on the horizon, the only movie left for me to hunt for now is Paradise Now, which, like Le Grand Voyage, was typically banned in Malaysia. It’s the first Palestinian film to be nominated for an Oscar so I’d like to see what it has to offer.
—————
He’s Danish, he’s Muslim, he raps about religion and international issues with his band, he’s Isam Bachiri and darn it, he makes me grin my cheeks off.
—————
I expect I’m expected to at least drop a few words regarding the Palestinian-Lebanon-Israel issue, but I can summon no words this time around. I am tired, depressed, angered, saddened…I am beyond it all actually. I am left devoid of any feeling. When a soul is repeatedly battered in the same manner, at one point it will grow accustomed to the pain and the effect is unnoticeable until the next time realisation hits.
Screaming in the wind is terribly frustrating.
—————-
Since I’m feeling a bit "quotish", I’ll leave a few innate sputterings of mine:
"It is easier to endure unwarranted hate than to endure unwanted love."
"Is Insanity just an excuse for us to freely malfunction, or is that statement just a way to deny our Insanity?"
"Apparently, everyone is claiming that they are insane. Suddenly, I don’t feel so lonely anymore."
"Falling in love is somewhere at the bottom on my list of things-to-do."
Not really. In reality, it isn’t there at all but my sister found it amusing when I said it so there it is.
—————
Thanks for calling, Naufal.
—————
Enough said here.
