A circle of my friends and I seem to agree on a joke about Kuantan as we first arrived at the town a year ago. Rural migrants, we call ourselves. Having been forced to migrate from the big city of Kuala Lumpur as a result of our campus relocation, the first thing we noticed about the town was how slow it seems for everything to get done.
Our colleagues used to tease my friend as she drives her rustic red Kancil about town. Five minutes, they would say, I bet she’s going to lose her temper in five minutes. A true KL urbanite who used to live in Seattle for eight years, driving in the sleepy town of Kuantan is certainly a challenge for my friend.
Fast-forward almost a year and a half later, I find myself complaining about anxiety to my friend as we drove home after a visit to Mid Valley Megamall. God, I don’t remember how busy KL was. My friend smiled and nodded, I don’t think I’m going to remember KL after all these years of studying, it’s Kuantan which actually shaped us.
Rural happiness
My friend is right. Despite our never-ending complaints at the beginning, we soon discover tons of excuses to appreciate the city. Besides, the thought of graduating in a year gave us a firm resolve not to let time pass by with us brooding in our rooms.
One of the first things Kuantan has to offer which readily melt our heart was of course, its sightly city. The air is clear compared to the smoky haze we are accustomed to in KL, and often we wake up to a thick fog blanketing our campus in the morning. I particularly love it the way we could see the beaches as I drive up the spiral route to Berjaya Megamall parking lot, we could even taste the salty air sometimes during hot days. Teluk Chempedak, with its vast shoreline and friendly breeze, became our playgrounds day and night. The audacious monkeys and their little ones, together with the weary cats, are simply considered as the rightful inhabitants of the beach. Oh, did I mention about the macaques with their hooting match, and the way we could spot the hornbill couples jumping from tree to tree while waiting for the traffic light to go green?
In Kuantan, everything is so blended in together it is impossible to pick one thing apart from another. Look at one of its many food court, for instance, Dataran Gambut, which features a local band every Wednesday night. It was a defining moment for me the first time the band took their seats and play their music, because it was so unlike I had expected a music band to be. The members are usually escorted by some family members, ranging from wives to elderly dad. One of the singers (the only female singer) wears tudung and sings in Mandarin! During one Maulidur Rasul night, the band started their session with a lengthy selawat, to be joined in by other diners despite the awkward looks of few youngsters. My friend and I could sit there by ourselves without ever feeling out of place. Recently we found a new eatery spot, Relax Cafe, where I enjoyed a delightful Terengganu traditional mini bun, served English way complete with a New Zealand butter and home made kaya and soft-boiled eggs. It was hillarious! Restoran Zaman is another place I couldn’t help but be amazed every visit. Not only the customers are plenty, but they seem to come from everywhere; TUDM, tourists on the road, and the nearby residents. It makes me feel like I was the one who is a native Kuantan dweller.
Speaking of native Kuantan dwellers, I would say they are a vivacious lots. Not quite as wary as Kelantanese or as proud as KL urbanites, it seems like they are always ready to say something to us everywhere we go. In addition, the way we get to reach to every different nooks and crannies of Kuantan city allows us to befriend different people. We encountered a kind lady during one of Ramadhan nights, at the mosque where we had our tarawih, who is now a landlady to one of my friends. My car was once sent to a workshop located deep in one of the kampungs hidden behind a factory. We even cut a business deal with one of the restaurant owners we used to frequent during our supper excursions. Living in Kuantan to me feels like being in a magical kingdom where we get to go places and meet different people to complete our tasks. Unlike in KL, where we are only students whose life are bound by the surrounding boundaries of our campus, in Kuantan we became its inhabitants, one with the city itself.
Kuantan in a nutshell
In a way, this was how Kuantan shaped us. It slows us down from the usual hurried KL lifestyle. We have no traffic to avoid, no LRT schedules to keep up to. Everything is almost within a 10-minute drive. We could sit with our friends, enjoying each other companies, and simply watch people going about. We could visit a cafe so often the waiters know us and let us be by ourselves how many hours we intended to. Kuantan relieves us of the many aggrandizements we used to crave (shopping spree, Burger King, Hush Puppies) we turn to the comfort of our personal friends to get by the ample time we have in our hands.
We learn to communicate through lengthy conversation, exchanging ideas on our likes and dislikes. We get to know each other better, and we become avid observers of each other’s habits we could spell each one’s with eyes closed. Friendship become important, and materialistic substitutes become, only substitutes.
I would like to relate about the variety of food we have experienced, but that is another story…
Monday, December 24, 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
Learning to hack life
Recently I realized how ICT (information and communication technology, FYI) had become something quite of a dread to me.
Although having only two email accounts, both of which I use way below its space limits, I have difficulties replying even to the halves of each. In addition, what with the non-repliable emails, notifications, and subscriptions I barely read. I still question the need to have any Friendster or Facebook accounts because I do not see any of my relationships improving because of it. Updating the profile is fun when I have nothing better to do, but I’ve always felt foolish afterwards - confused at what was I trying to show or prove. But I keep my accounts active anyway on account of keeping in touch with people I am afraid to lose contact with, despite our almost non-existent communication in real-life. I will not even write about passing virtual drinks or declaring someone to be my top friends - I mean, seriously?
The phone is my another source of damnation. Sometimes the way people could get into my life easily through instant messages get to me - a short cut to face-to-face, personal communication, which so many of us are happy to avoid. Forwarded messages coming in like advertorial, I was never certain how to respond to it I ended up not replying it. In fact, it has become my policy to reply only messages which are addressed personally to me, other types of message go straight to trash - after a week. There is also the missed-calling practice, which I never understood its imparted meaning. If the ringing doesn’t last to three, I usually ignore it. No, I do not use IMs to catch up on my distant cousins or long lost friends too. I would rather talk and call a visit. Although I was, at some point, hooked up to IM like it was my life line, blatantly pushing my keypad buttons in front of my clueless colleague or loved ones - leaving them talking to the empty void. After learning how rude and insensitive such practice was, I happily throw away my phone every time I am due to spend time with friends or family I had promised to.
So now, I am trying to manage my ICT tools with better efficiency. I scrolled through my contacts list, and realized 75% of it I no longer use (unsuccessful crushes included, shamefully), so I deleted all. I loathe the idea of creating a new email account, so I simply direct my subscription and notifications to one email account, and leave the other for friends and formal businesses. The former account might end up being opened once in a blue moon. As for my Friendster or Facebook account, I shall leave it as it is. My cowardice does not allow me to declare my fight against such social networks, I’m fighting a losing battle.
I am learning to use IM not as cover-ups for my intended insensitivities or reckless mistakes. The time I couldn’t spend with certain friends cannot be paid with a single SMS, the promises I’ve broken couldn’t be patched with a single SMS, and the amount of love and care I would like to shower to my family or friend will not be measured by how many love and kisses I send through IM - so does by my lack of sending it too. For now, I see IMs more as an aid for tangible things, not to satisfy my cloaked neuroticism or behaviour disorder, which I’ve learnt I could so easily get caught up in.
As for blogs, it is still addictive to check out other people’s blogs (aside of my own) every 2 hours. But given my current need to practice writing (I reduced the writing schedule to every 2 days, instead of having to finish the piece every night) - I keep my blog-hopping habit on radar, until the time dictates I put it completely on hold until midnight.
For those who feel afflicted with the same disease as me, for a start, I find a 10 + 2 x 5 tip provided by Merlin Mann of 43 Folders quite useful for day (mid-house chores) practice; set a timer of 10 minutes for a required task, allow 2 minutes for any side-cravings and repeat the process five times, we will get 50 productive minutes out of an hour work - which usually, obviously, is reversed.
Although having only two email accounts, both of which I use way below its space limits, I have difficulties replying even to the halves of each. In addition, what with the non-repliable emails, notifications, and subscriptions I barely read. I still question the need to have any Friendster or Facebook accounts because I do not see any of my relationships improving because of it. Updating the profile is fun when I have nothing better to do, but I’ve always felt foolish afterwards - confused at what was I trying to show or prove. But I keep my accounts active anyway on account of keeping in touch with people I am afraid to lose contact with, despite our almost non-existent communication in real-life. I will not even write about passing virtual drinks or declaring someone to be my top friends - I mean, seriously?
The phone is my another source of damnation. Sometimes the way people could get into my life easily through instant messages get to me - a short cut to face-to-face, personal communication, which so many of us are happy to avoid. Forwarded messages coming in like advertorial, I was never certain how to respond to it I ended up not replying it. In fact, it has become my policy to reply only messages which are addressed personally to me, other types of message go straight to trash - after a week. There is also the missed-calling practice, which I never understood its imparted meaning. If the ringing doesn’t last to three, I usually ignore it. No, I do not use IMs to catch up on my distant cousins or long lost friends too. I would rather talk and call a visit. Although I was, at some point, hooked up to IM like it was my life line, blatantly pushing my keypad buttons in front of my clueless colleague or loved ones - leaving them talking to the empty void. After learning how rude and insensitive such practice was, I happily throw away my phone every time I am due to spend time with friends or family I had promised to.
So now, I am trying to manage my ICT tools with better efficiency. I scrolled through my contacts list, and realized 75% of it I no longer use (unsuccessful crushes included, shamefully), so I deleted all. I loathe the idea of creating a new email account, so I simply direct my subscription and notifications to one email account, and leave the other for friends and formal businesses. The former account might end up being opened once in a blue moon. As for my Friendster or Facebook account, I shall leave it as it is. My cowardice does not allow me to declare my fight against such social networks, I’m fighting a losing battle.
I am learning to use IM not as cover-ups for my intended insensitivities or reckless mistakes. The time I couldn’t spend with certain friends cannot be paid with a single SMS, the promises I’ve broken couldn’t be patched with a single SMS, and the amount of love and care I would like to shower to my family or friend will not be measured by how many love and kisses I send through IM - so does by my lack of sending it too. For now, I see IMs more as an aid for tangible things, not to satisfy my cloaked neuroticism or behaviour disorder, which I’ve learnt I could so easily get caught up in.
As for blogs, it is still addictive to check out other people’s blogs (aside of my own) every 2 hours. But given my current need to practice writing (I reduced the writing schedule to every 2 days, instead of having to finish the piece every night) - I keep my blog-hopping habit on radar, until the time dictates I put it completely on hold until midnight.
For those who feel afflicted with the same disease as me, for a start, I find a 10 + 2 x 5 tip provided by Merlin Mann of 43 Folders quite useful for day (mid-house chores) practice; set a timer of 10 minutes for a required task, allow 2 minutes for any side-cravings and repeat the process five times, we will get 50 productive minutes out of an hour work - which usually, obviously, is reversed.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Not taking things seriously
After my recent publicized winning trip to Germany caused havoc at the faculty several months ago – I was approached by several juniors asking me to give study tips for their programs. Luckily enough, I always had better things to do; sampling trip, balik kampung, etc. Freaking out of having to face strange faces while on stage is one thing, but what keeps me refusing the invitations was actually not having any tips to begin with.
Aware of my personal experiences on the importance of conformity to social conventions, I realized these invitations were called forth for me to reiterate the criteria appropriate and fitting for successful students; strategic time management, sincere intentions, good relationships with parents, teachers, and friends, and the likes.
Having said that, I realized, apparently not every Dean’s List students are qualified to give motivational talks – me for example. However, not having any ideas to write now – I think it’s time I reveal the strategies my friends and I adopted so far to manage being in the Dean’s Lists every semester until our final year. These strategies evolve as we grow older, and most importantly, wiser.
1. No Social Life, Please
My friends and I are familiar faces during Excellence Award or Dean’s List’s dinner every year. There’s no denying that. We were dubbed skema during our second year for always trotting around with our thick textbooks and serious faces running after one lecturer to another asking question. Not only that, we were also skema because we always wear the standard university attire every day, baju kurung. No trousers, no jeans, no skirts. We had no sense of fashion, or fun.
So that was why when my roommate asked what kept me glued to my desk every night studying, I answered: Because I had nothing else better to do (given my lack of social life). How pathetic is that.
1. Last Minute Study is the Best Policy
What, unbelievable? Cross your finger, I think many students would agree with me on this. Who has the time to concentrate on lectures, and revise again two hours after that when the night before was spent meeting for a program? Wait, that doesn’t apply to me. Who has the time to concentrate on lectures when the night before was spent teary-eyed reading a novel? Or what if I just couldn’t help myself from feeling bored out of my wit with the notes that does not make sense at all from 0 hour of the class? There’s no use concentrating when I know I wouldn’t get anything different if I just read the textbook later on (save for the truly great lecturers who knows how to do their works, of course).
Trust me sometimes life at the university is simply, a life. Forget all those idealism and aspiration of living in intelligentsia world or whatsoever. As much as I was frustrated, sometimes being a student CAN be reduced to mere survival for the next breath in the next day.
1. Know Thy Lecturers
Perhaps this one tip can be considered normal. But again, is normal equal to morally sound? Because here’s how my tip goes – have the same lecturer teaching you from Year 1 to Year 4, and all you need to do to score is to know his exam question patterns. Forget looking for extra information, forget thinking outside the box. All you need is the next time it’s test, you know this lecturer so much you can simply point out which part will come up in the exam and which part will not –because you already know his pattern. Information was cut into fragments, go into your brains selectively regardless of whether the information might be useful or not. All that matter is you can answer the exam questions.
Again, it’s the question of survival. Forget knowledge here.
1. People-Ogling and Caffeine is Good for Your Health
The key to my staying up until 4 a.m. at night finishing my home works? Combine the ultimate booster for students: caffeine, and for girls: cute lads. These days, every time I need to stay up late doing three works alternatively all at once, I would earlier drive to the nearest gas station where I often get my double dose of Nescafe, and where a tall guy with curly hair and cute smile would always greet me.
Enough said.
1. Finally, Stop Being a Perfectionist.
I dreamt of studying history and philosophy with an old, great, knowledgeable professor who would always provoke me to write my best essays and challenge my views – only to find myself in a class where the lecturer would settle with the slide presentation he himself could not understand. I envision myself working with fellow students for causes that matter –to be frowned upon by so many people to whom only power and authority matters. I picture students who can tolerate each other’s differences – but all I received and see is judgments without discussions. All of us are so caught up with telling the world who’s at fault and who’s to blame, we think we’re good enough.
Having all my dreams and ideals crushed, I settle to my study. I forget saving the world, I forget changing the world one thing at a time. All I can do, and I do best is study – get a 3.5 and above GPA’s every semester, so that later when I go out to the world – I would have one thing right to show off to people.
Yes, stop being a perfectionist and taking everything too seriously – what I write here this time is meant for people who can laugh at themselves. Let’s celebrate life and all its splendor… as well as everything that makes you pull your hair out.
Aware of my personal experiences on the importance of conformity to social conventions, I realized these invitations were called forth for me to reiterate the criteria appropriate and fitting for successful students; strategic time management, sincere intentions, good relationships with parents, teachers, and friends, and the likes.
Having said that, I realized, apparently not every Dean’s List students are qualified to give motivational talks – me for example. However, not having any ideas to write now – I think it’s time I reveal the strategies my friends and I adopted so far to manage being in the Dean’s Lists every semester until our final year. These strategies evolve as we grow older, and most importantly, wiser.
1. No Social Life, Please
My friends and I are familiar faces during Excellence Award or Dean’s List’s dinner every year. There’s no denying that. We were dubbed skema during our second year for always trotting around with our thick textbooks and serious faces running after one lecturer to another asking question. Not only that, we were also skema because we always wear the standard university attire every day, baju kurung. No trousers, no jeans, no skirts. We had no sense of fashion, or fun.
So that was why when my roommate asked what kept me glued to my desk every night studying, I answered: Because I had nothing else better to do (given my lack of social life). How pathetic is that.
1. Last Minute Study is the Best Policy
What, unbelievable? Cross your finger, I think many students would agree with me on this. Who has the time to concentrate on lectures, and revise again two hours after that when the night before was spent meeting for a program? Wait, that doesn’t apply to me. Who has the time to concentrate on lectures when the night before was spent teary-eyed reading a novel? Or what if I just couldn’t help myself from feeling bored out of my wit with the notes that does not make sense at all from 0 hour of the class? There’s no use concentrating when I know I wouldn’t get anything different if I just read the textbook later on (save for the truly great lecturers who knows how to do their works, of course).
Trust me sometimes life at the university is simply, a life. Forget all those idealism and aspiration of living in intelligentsia world or whatsoever. As much as I was frustrated, sometimes being a student CAN be reduced to mere survival for the next breath in the next day.
1. Know Thy Lecturers
Perhaps this one tip can be considered normal. But again, is normal equal to morally sound? Because here’s how my tip goes – have the same lecturer teaching you from Year 1 to Year 4, and all you need to do to score is to know his exam question patterns. Forget looking for extra information, forget thinking outside the box. All you need is the next time it’s test, you know this lecturer so much you can simply point out which part will come up in the exam and which part will not –because you already know his pattern. Information was cut into fragments, go into your brains selectively regardless of whether the information might be useful or not. All that matter is you can answer the exam questions.
Again, it’s the question of survival. Forget knowledge here.
1. People-Ogling and Caffeine is Good for Your Health
The key to my staying up until 4 a.m. at night finishing my home works? Combine the ultimate booster for students: caffeine, and for girls: cute lads. These days, every time I need to stay up late doing three works alternatively all at once, I would earlier drive to the nearest gas station where I often get my double dose of Nescafe, and where a tall guy with curly hair and cute smile would always greet me.
Enough said.
1. Finally, Stop Being a Perfectionist.
I dreamt of studying history and philosophy with an old, great, knowledgeable professor who would always provoke me to write my best essays and challenge my views – only to find myself in a class where the lecturer would settle with the slide presentation he himself could not understand. I envision myself working with fellow students for causes that matter –to be frowned upon by so many people to whom only power and authority matters. I picture students who can tolerate each other’s differences – but all I received and see is judgments without discussions. All of us are so caught up with telling the world who’s at fault and who’s to blame, we think we’re good enough.
Having all my dreams and ideals crushed, I settle to my study. I forget saving the world, I forget changing the world one thing at a time. All I can do, and I do best is study – get a 3.5 and above GPA’s every semester, so that later when I go out to the world – I would have one thing right to show off to people.
Yes, stop being a perfectionist and taking everything too seriously – what I write here this time is meant for people who can laugh at themselves. Let’s celebrate life and all its splendor… as well as everything that makes you pull your hair out.
Friday, September 28, 2007
OMG! He's getting married
A friend of mine recently got engaged, at 23 years of age – and he’s a guy. A bold move, I would definitely say. Because as I remembered the day he announced his decision to us, his closest circle of friends; I was at a loss for words. I dashed straight to the restroom to collect my breath as soon as I got the chance to go out. I didn’t know which surprised me more, his firm decision or my unexpected reaction to the revelation.
Shamefully, I think it’s the latter.
You see, he is one of a couple of guys I had the opportunity to befriend closely for the past 4 years at college. A long time definitely, but too long I forget the time I began to take him for granted as a friend. Too long, I always have a preconceived idea about him to which I base my decisions and judgments about him – an act simplified for me, but at times are unjust to him.
I remember the early days of my junior years, I was so obsessed with analyzing every guys in the faculty because I was so determined to find at least one gentleman to fit my depiction of a real guy. I grumbled as I see no guys offering to carry the laptop or LCD projector handled willingly by girls in the class. I complained as I watched guys in reality are too boys inside, never stopping to talk about games and anime. Not so much because I was desperate to find a beau, but at the back of my mind I was so driven to prove myself right to counter my disappointing experiences with the men of my family. I was trying to put my heart at rest, to promise myself there will be a lavish green field at the end of the rainbow. There are men whom I can trust to run the world.
So these two guys; about the only males in my batch, became the scale of my measurements. At first, getting to know them was exciting. I was thrilled to apply all those theories I read in the book and to compare their actions to the scenes I had come across in films. One is the ultimate Martian – the alpha male, and another is the guy everyone is always delighted to see. Ultimately, I was trying to put their pictures to my sketch of men. Perhaps these two can be friends, real friends.
However, as the time wears on, I learned all sides of their personality, both pleasing and frustrating. Expectations I can trust be fulfilled, and expectations I know are hopeless to even think about. I no longer tried to bring out the best in my two friends, because at times I admitted to myself it was simply stupid and tiring.
One time my decision was deemed digressing, we had a total clash of worldview. Until today, it was a decision silently understood – we are going on a completely different path. We never spoke about it again. Another time I was scolded coldly for a totally inadvertent mistake, never I gain I dared to get near his prickly receptors. I navigate my ways around it, accommodating wherever I can. It was not about proving who’s right or who should change anymore – we have become a family. We accept each other as we are, but sadly, we expect no more either. We looked through each other as we do a glass, so transparent there are no questions asked anymore. We neither surprises nor disappoint one another, we only get by our lives – day in and day out without trying to understand any longer, because we thought we had enough to understand everything.
For instance, as my alpha friend grows popular after he was elected president, every one at the faculty seems to have discovered a gem. His combination of chivalry and aloofness appeared so irresistible to girls he is being talked about in every room. I had fun observing these, of course. But I also made a cruel remark about him pertaining to the issue, I remember saying coolly his kindness is magnified only because he rarely displays it. As for other people who do these things naturally, similar act of kindness are often go by unnoticed and taken for granted. Perhaps I was right, and I could be wrong too – but I didn’t care to know. Because all that is etched in my mind is his nasty mood and insensitive self.
At the same time, I was growing up too. I had become stronger and more independent; there are things I couldn’t do before I am capable to manage now. I am reaching out farther away. Before I realized it, I was trying to repeat the same cycle I had started before, looking for greener pastures. My friends become a shadow in the background, I forgot the simple fact – their mere presence actually confirms my existence of who I am now.
So as my friend announced his engagement, I was choked with surprise; happiness or sadness I was uncertain. I questioned his action by doubting him, as I would always do based on my database of his demeanors. Afterwards, I tried to understand his decision by sieving through our pictures at being friends together for a nearly 5 years, and I was surprised at how big an influence these two friends are to me. Looking back now, he caused me a suddenly painful realization. He is – as much as I am – a human being, capable of making choices which will make him a better person or not. However, as he has proven it, my friend chose to live for a greater cause, to take up a responsibility which will determine the course of his life at so early age – even too early for me as a girl. Therefore I think I owe him one: my friend, you’re the man.
Shamefully, I think it’s the latter.
You see, he is one of a couple of guys I had the opportunity to befriend closely for the past 4 years at college. A long time definitely, but too long I forget the time I began to take him for granted as a friend. Too long, I always have a preconceived idea about him to which I base my decisions and judgments about him – an act simplified for me, but at times are unjust to him.
I remember the early days of my junior years, I was so obsessed with analyzing every guys in the faculty because I was so determined to find at least one gentleman to fit my depiction of a real guy. I grumbled as I see no guys offering to carry the laptop or LCD projector handled willingly by girls in the class. I complained as I watched guys in reality are too boys inside, never stopping to talk about games and anime. Not so much because I was desperate to find a beau, but at the back of my mind I was so driven to prove myself right to counter my disappointing experiences with the men of my family. I was trying to put my heart at rest, to promise myself there will be a lavish green field at the end of the rainbow. There are men whom I can trust to run the world.
So these two guys; about the only males in my batch, became the scale of my measurements. At first, getting to know them was exciting. I was thrilled to apply all those theories I read in the book and to compare their actions to the scenes I had come across in films. One is the ultimate Martian – the alpha male, and another is the guy everyone is always delighted to see. Ultimately, I was trying to put their pictures to my sketch of men. Perhaps these two can be friends, real friends.
However, as the time wears on, I learned all sides of their personality, both pleasing and frustrating. Expectations I can trust be fulfilled, and expectations I know are hopeless to even think about. I no longer tried to bring out the best in my two friends, because at times I admitted to myself it was simply stupid and tiring.
One time my decision was deemed digressing, we had a total clash of worldview. Until today, it was a decision silently understood – we are going on a completely different path. We never spoke about it again. Another time I was scolded coldly for a totally inadvertent mistake, never I gain I dared to get near his prickly receptors. I navigate my ways around it, accommodating wherever I can. It was not about proving who’s right or who should change anymore – we have become a family. We accept each other as we are, but sadly, we expect no more either. We looked through each other as we do a glass, so transparent there are no questions asked anymore. We neither surprises nor disappoint one another, we only get by our lives – day in and day out without trying to understand any longer, because we thought we had enough to understand everything.
For instance, as my alpha friend grows popular after he was elected president, every one at the faculty seems to have discovered a gem. His combination of chivalry and aloofness appeared so irresistible to girls he is being talked about in every room. I had fun observing these, of course. But I also made a cruel remark about him pertaining to the issue, I remember saying coolly his kindness is magnified only because he rarely displays it. As for other people who do these things naturally, similar act of kindness are often go by unnoticed and taken for granted. Perhaps I was right, and I could be wrong too – but I didn’t care to know. Because all that is etched in my mind is his nasty mood and insensitive self.
At the same time, I was growing up too. I had become stronger and more independent; there are things I couldn’t do before I am capable to manage now. I am reaching out farther away. Before I realized it, I was trying to repeat the same cycle I had started before, looking for greener pastures. My friends become a shadow in the background, I forgot the simple fact – their mere presence actually confirms my existence of who I am now.
So as my friend announced his engagement, I was choked with surprise; happiness or sadness I was uncertain. I questioned his action by doubting him, as I would always do based on my database of his demeanors. Afterwards, I tried to understand his decision by sieving through our pictures at being friends together for a nearly 5 years, and I was surprised at how big an influence these two friends are to me. Looking back now, he caused me a suddenly painful realization. He is – as much as I am – a human being, capable of making choices which will make him a better person or not. However, as he has proven it, my friend chose to live for a greater cause, to take up a responsibility which will determine the course of his life at so early age – even too early for me as a girl. Therefore I think I owe him one: my friend, you’re the man.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Learning differences
A young Malaysian went from being severely confused to relaxed and happy.
I STOOD in a corner, watching my friends excitedly prying open one durian after another. One friend turned to me and said, “Wouldn’t you like to try one?”
Another friend smiled and retorted, “She’s Melayu celup, she doesn’t eat durian and she wants to marry a British.” I laughed at his comment, but I still gave the durian a pass.
In a way, my friend was right. I adore Jude Law. But I don’t know the latest local chart-topping songs and artistes.
I am uncertain whether my ignorance is because I love to daydream, or stems from a sheltered childhood spent in religious boarding schools.
Unlike my peers in national schools, I did not sing Negaraku every morning. It was perhaps because I was studying in a not-so-pro-government school or because, as implied by my teachers, singing was not considered religious.
I was never a part of the country’s excitement in celebrating National Day; we’d be attending classes. It is just one of the many things that most Malaysian youngsters enjoy that I realised I had missed growing up; like befriending people of different races and religions.
I was a rebellious teenager – quiet but rebellious. In a way, I think it was my response to the limitations inflicted upon me at religious school, where male and female students were segregated, televisions and radios not provided, and no contact with other schools established.
So I “made friends” with books and magazines; I subscribed to youth magazines, highlighting every word I found inspiring and kept them on my desks. I bought books every time I returned home. I built a world I could escape to. Through time, the books slowly shaped the way I thought and viewed the world. They had me thinking and constantly questioning what I had learned and thought was correct.
For instance, we were taught the importance of applying best religious practices, such as donning jubah and tudung labuh for girls. Some students who left the school later opted to wear baju kurung, seluar, or tudung tiga segi, and were frowned upon.
It was puzzling to me how simply being different could warrant such disapproval when I was also taught that my religion encourages love and tolerance not only among Muslims but towards non-Muslims, too.
In addition, my teacher always pointed out how students are susceptible to temptations in the dangerous world out there. At some point, I almost believed that it was safer to stay put in my school, being friends with people of similar views and beliefs.
I left school and entered a matriculation centre. I realised then how severely confused I was. People moved in cliques on campus. But I was alone. I tried to find people similar to me in appearance and thinking, only to receive hushed questions about which political side my parents were supporting.
Above all, I was astounded to receive warm greetings and friendship from colleagues – men and women – who were totally unlike me.
As I went through university, I found out instead how similar I was to other youths, regardless of our upbringing, religion, and race. As I read books, watched films and got to know different people, I was amazed to discover so many great things about others.
I have also been able to experience other aspects of being a Malaysian. I remember being awashed with pride and sadness as I sang Negaraku aloud during orientation.
During my third year, my friends and I stayed up late to watch fireworks on the eve of National Day. I remember being moved to tears as my Chinese friend warmly said, “Bless you!” when I sneezed.
I have also begun to know my country and its people better during my trips to the campus in Pahang, and to my mother’s hometown in Johor.
As one of my close friends observed, it is peculiar and unusual to hear Linkin Park’s Meteroa blaring away in a car driven by a girl in a tudung labuh.
I have gone from being timid and serious, to relaxed and happy. I smile and talk to strangers, joke with friends and am delighted to see Daniel Radcliffe’s picture in the newspaper.
I still have a long way to go but people who were strangers once are now close friends.
I believe God can reveal Himself in any way He desires. I believe He wants us to find Him through ways we are happy and comfortable with. I believe in the universal truth: everything begins as a good thing.
I believe I can learn and see God in every possible moment – the trickle of spring water, the smile of a Christian friend, the embrace of a sun bear. I believe kindness is to be shared with everyone – my parents, my friends, and kids across the world. I believe that is the kind of world God wants us to create.
I think being a Malaysian is about all of us looking after one another, not simply because we are of similar race, religion, or living in the same country, but because it is the best we can do in being human. As Morrie Schwartz in Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie says, “Love each other, or die.”
Nurhidayati, 22, is a final year environmental biotechnology student in the International Islamic University in Kuantan.
I STOOD in a corner, watching my friends excitedly prying open one durian after another. One friend turned to me and said, “Wouldn’t you like to try one?”
Another friend smiled and retorted, “She’s Melayu celup, she doesn’t eat durian and she wants to marry a British.” I laughed at his comment, but I still gave the durian a pass.
In a way, my friend was right. I adore Jude Law. But I don’t know the latest local chart-topping songs and artistes.
I am uncertain whether my ignorance is because I love to daydream, or stems from a sheltered childhood spent in religious boarding schools.
Unlike my peers in national schools, I did not sing Negaraku every morning. It was perhaps because I was studying in a not-so-pro-government school or because, as implied by my teachers, singing was not considered religious.
I was never a part of the country’s excitement in celebrating National Day; we’d be attending classes. It is just one of the many things that most Malaysian youngsters enjoy that I realised I had missed growing up; like befriending people of different races and religions.
I was a rebellious teenager – quiet but rebellious. In a way, I think it was my response to the limitations inflicted upon me at religious school, where male and female students were segregated, televisions and radios not provided, and no contact with other schools established.
So I “made friends” with books and magazines; I subscribed to youth magazines, highlighting every word I found inspiring and kept them on my desks. I bought books every time I returned home. I built a world I could escape to. Through time, the books slowly shaped the way I thought and viewed the world. They had me thinking and constantly questioning what I had learned and thought was correct.
For instance, we were taught the importance of applying best religious practices, such as donning jubah and tudung labuh for girls. Some students who left the school later opted to wear baju kurung, seluar, or tudung tiga segi, and were frowned upon.
It was puzzling to me how simply being different could warrant such disapproval when I was also taught that my religion encourages love and tolerance not only among Muslims but towards non-Muslims, too.
In addition, my teacher always pointed out how students are susceptible to temptations in the dangerous world out there. At some point, I almost believed that it was safer to stay put in my school, being friends with people of similar views and beliefs.
I left school and entered a matriculation centre. I realised then how severely confused I was. People moved in cliques on campus. But I was alone. I tried to find people similar to me in appearance and thinking, only to receive hushed questions about which political side my parents were supporting.
Above all, I was astounded to receive warm greetings and friendship from colleagues – men and women – who were totally unlike me.
As I went through university, I found out instead how similar I was to other youths, regardless of our upbringing, religion, and race. As I read books, watched films and got to know different people, I was amazed to discover so many great things about others.
I have also been able to experience other aspects of being a Malaysian. I remember being awashed with pride and sadness as I sang Negaraku aloud during orientation.
During my third year, my friends and I stayed up late to watch fireworks on the eve of National Day. I remember being moved to tears as my Chinese friend warmly said, “Bless you!” when I sneezed.
I have also begun to know my country and its people better during my trips to the campus in Pahang, and to my mother’s hometown in Johor.
As one of my close friends observed, it is peculiar and unusual to hear Linkin Park’s Meteroa blaring away in a car driven by a girl in a tudung labuh.
I have gone from being timid and serious, to relaxed and happy. I smile and talk to strangers, joke with friends and am delighted to see Daniel Radcliffe’s picture in the newspaper.
I still have a long way to go but people who were strangers once are now close friends.
I believe God can reveal Himself in any way He desires. I believe He wants us to find Him through ways we are happy and comfortable with. I believe in the universal truth: everything begins as a good thing.
I believe I can learn and see God in every possible moment – the trickle of spring water, the smile of a Christian friend, the embrace of a sun bear. I believe kindness is to be shared with everyone – my parents, my friends, and kids across the world. I believe that is the kind of world God wants us to create.
I think being a Malaysian is about all of us looking after one another, not simply because we are of similar race, religion, or living in the same country, but because it is the best we can do in being human. As Morrie Schwartz in Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie says, “Love each other, or die.”
Nurhidayati, 22, is a final year environmental biotechnology student in the International Islamic University in Kuantan.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
A writer's letter
JLN KUALA KRAI, July 2007
MY DEAR READERS-
After a long time and again, I must admit I simply cannot cease (and resist) writing as much as I would love to. Although my academic years has seen me struggling to generate a 50,000 words scientific thesis, I had lived most of my adolescent years scribbling on my notebooks – copying quotes from books and essays, creating my naïve, happily ever after love stories, and writing lengthy letters to families and friends. During the virtual era of my freshman and sophomore years, I had enjoyed writing about books for the little audience I received on my blog for a prosperous three years, and exchanging emails (and love letters) to the amazing friends I had accumulated throughout the five continents. Nevertheless, I do regret not being able to find my sweet friends I was acquainted with while in Jordan twelve years ago – sadly, we were far from the age of Friendster and Facebook at the time.
Now, I am beginning to believe the love of writing comes hand in hand with the love of reading. It is the marriage of two rituals where one cannot live without the other. I started, I suppose as any other hopeful writers, with reading. The early childhood reading of the Malay version of Enid Blyton’s series begun as my escape to find friendships and adventures beyond my quiet life of growing up as the only girl in the family. I turned to reading Malay literatures and fictions while I was in high school, following my rebellious streaks and youth angst. Towards the end of it, it was Adeline Yen Mah’s Chinese Cinderella (a book I remember only vaguely now, after losing it few years ago) which taught me a sense of expressing oneself through writing and how to put up a fight using it. If reading is my shield from the world, writing became my sword.
These days, often imagining myself as the philosopher and editor of the Review of Applied Ethics Isabel Dalhousie, my beloved character in the Sunday Philosophy Club series, I write rather leisurely. Interspersed with my unfinished readings, catching up with families, writing to old friends and living life; I begin my writing early in the morning with a cup of coffee by my side. So far, my element would be my own space where stacks of books surround me, and patches of essays and words on the wall greet me. Such days however, are sporadic, usually prompted after a long drive throughout the country or a passionate conversation with strangers. Although by nature I operate by structure and order, my creativity often seeks to unleash itself as it pleases, or perhaps, as it is inspired.
Therefore my beloved readers, as I affirmed to myself I need more adventures and unexpected turn of events (since my old sensible self is often too shy to let it roam free), I am now putting my creative attempts into a disciplined structure. Beginning with the letter, I will put together a portfolio of my essays narrating my life surrounding various topics; Self in Society, Nature and Environment, Culture Shock, Food for Thoughts, Film and Prints, and About Books. In between, my Reader’s Notebook will be filled with my notes and journals about books and essays I’ve read.
Thereupon I dearly hope you may expect a new essay every fortnight, with short notes and journals as the fillers. At any expense I expect your feedbacks and comments. For the present - I shall bid you adieu.
I am dear READERS,
You most obedient
humble Servant,
NURHIDAYATI ABD AZIZ
MY DEAR READERS-
After a long time and again, I must admit I simply cannot cease (and resist) writing as much as I would love to. Although my academic years has seen me struggling to generate a 50,000 words scientific thesis, I had lived most of my adolescent years scribbling on my notebooks – copying quotes from books and essays, creating my naïve, happily ever after love stories, and writing lengthy letters to families and friends. During the virtual era of my freshman and sophomore years, I had enjoyed writing about books for the little audience I received on my blog for a prosperous three years, and exchanging emails (and love letters) to the amazing friends I had accumulated throughout the five continents. Nevertheless, I do regret not being able to find my sweet friends I was acquainted with while in Jordan twelve years ago – sadly, we were far from the age of Friendster and Facebook at the time.
Now, I am beginning to believe the love of writing comes hand in hand with the love of reading. It is the marriage of two rituals where one cannot live without the other. I started, I suppose as any other hopeful writers, with reading. The early childhood reading of the Malay version of Enid Blyton’s series begun as my escape to find friendships and adventures beyond my quiet life of growing up as the only girl in the family. I turned to reading Malay literatures and fictions while I was in high school, following my rebellious streaks and youth angst. Towards the end of it, it was Adeline Yen Mah’s Chinese Cinderella (a book I remember only vaguely now, after losing it few years ago) which taught me a sense of expressing oneself through writing and how to put up a fight using it. If reading is my shield from the world, writing became my sword.
These days, often imagining myself as the philosopher and editor of the Review of Applied Ethics Isabel Dalhousie, my beloved character in the Sunday Philosophy Club series, I write rather leisurely. Interspersed with my unfinished readings, catching up with families, writing to old friends and living life; I begin my writing early in the morning with a cup of coffee by my side. So far, my element would be my own space where stacks of books surround me, and patches of essays and words on the wall greet me. Such days however, are sporadic, usually prompted after a long drive throughout the country or a passionate conversation with strangers. Although by nature I operate by structure and order, my creativity often seeks to unleash itself as it pleases, or perhaps, as it is inspired.
Therefore my beloved readers, as I affirmed to myself I need more adventures and unexpected turn of events (since my old sensible self is often too shy to let it roam free), I am now putting my creative attempts into a disciplined structure. Beginning with the letter, I will put together a portfolio of my essays narrating my life surrounding various topics; Self in Society, Nature and Environment, Culture Shock, Food for Thoughts, Film and Prints, and About Books. In between, my Reader’s Notebook will be filled with my notes and journals about books and essays I’ve read.
Thereupon I dearly hope you may expect a new essay every fortnight, with short notes and journals as the fillers. At any expense I expect your feedbacks and comments. For the present - I shall bid you adieu.
I am dear READERS,
You most obedient
humble Servant,
NURHIDAYATI ABD AZIZ
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