You're a speck of dust

You're a speck of dust and you fall on me.

Over the course of several months, I have been a reluctant witness of the failing of human resolves, the insecurity of our needs for something fulfilling, the naivety of our childish compulsion for something destructive. And my, how I was amused.

Sometimes I think human beings are akin to dusts. We are insignificant, We are a nuisance. The world doesn't need us, the world gets by without us. Like little dusts, we float around, we settle, we make visible of our tiny selves - we are not easily brushed off.

Nevertheless, there seems to be an affectionate relationship in our regards to the pitiful existence of dusts. We retaliate with anger and frustrations at its every visits, but we dutifully sweep it off day after day - and sometimes without complaints, sometimes willingly, sometimes with the pride of accomplishing something noble.

Human behaviour continues to amaze me, and in the complexity of the human-dust relationships I've decided to sit outside the box and observe the hilarity of things unfolding before my very eyes. I'm not a part of it, and I have no desire to be a part of it.

You're a speck of dust and you fall on me. You can sit there as long as you want, because I will never want you and I will never miss you.

Letters to a Friend: Feeling of lightheadedness

Cowper St, September 7, 2009

My dearest,

There is a certain greediness which influences me when I think of the future. Looking back, I realized now how I've built my life into small portions of time. A series of plans made in advance which disguise itself as a confident vote for where I want to be, what I want to do and who I want to meet. Whenever one portion of time is reaching its end, I'd scamper in fury and neurotic apprehension, trying to put together another set of ideas for what is ahead of me. Anything, something I know I can accomplish.

Truth be told, this greed is often consumed by fear; of the unknown, of losing control, of disappointments. It's funny when people tend to see me as a mountain of rock, a steady pillar of strength cloaked with a blanket of trustworthiness. When all I see of myself is a floating bubble, a single water molecule bound to dissolve itself into nothingness at a touch of a heat, a ray of sunshine, an increase of temperature.

I've always wondered, what is it I'm trying to run away from? People I love, people I hate, things I want to do but I'm not allowed to, things I was generously offered but I had no interest for? Better yet, am I actually running away or am I simply moving at an incessantly fast pace?

Forgive me for beginning our correspondence with such long and winding babble of words, my dearest. But you know I had to let them all out. These bundle of emotions within me are torturing to carry and I cannot always tell them even when I want to. So in the faith of your willingness to listen, to continue to read, to always sit there silently at the other end of my every letters - I shall continue to write, to speak to you, and to lay bare my heart to you for as long as I shall live.

The thing is, in the impending arrival of my departure, a shower of uncertainties begin to loom over me. I am drenched with fear, I am soaked in the many questions of what ifs, I am drowning in the hovering breathlessness of losing something I love. At the same time, I am perfectly and fully aware of how utterly determined I am not to lose these moments to the idle calculation of my emotions. What if I only get one chance, one perfect moment, one truly kindred spirit to last me a lifetime?

Sometimes I wish I always know what to do. I can almost see you now smiling with amusement at such impossible thought and your eyes glistening with menace behind your glasses as you think of potential jokes to ridicule me about how hopelessly illogical I can be. Still, I wish sometimes life is as easy as figuring out those derivatives and integral formulas I used to get full marks for in school.

I know what you're going to say, and of course you're right. But for once please nod and smile and say, 'I know what you're talking about?

I am devotedly yours,
Ati A. Aziz

Beautiful Kate

Beautiful Kate put me in a rather tricky situation; it made me wonder if we can disregard values in the place of beauty?

Rachel Ward - the Australian actress I admired for her sharp wit and no-nonsense character in Rain Shadow - brings to us exactly such debate in her debut movie which is as beautiful as it is provocative, Beautiful Kate.

When I read the movie is about a prodigal son's return to his home, haunted by the memory of his twin sister and his unresolved past, I had no expectation of what the past might be. And for some reason I didn't scour the internet for the ubiquitous film reviews before the movie as I usually did with other films. Having watched the film now, I am glad I didn't.

As it turned out, Beautiful Kate took me to an entirely uncharted territory when it tells the story of the twin brother and sister. At once, Kate in her youth is heartbreakingly clairvoyant and frighteningly vivacious. When Ned appears to metamorphosed into his older self, his struggle to keep up with the inseparable bond of a twin between his sister and himself grows into something totally unimaginable. However, surprisingly Kate seems to take the world as just so.

It's the starting point where Beautiful Kate puts us the audience to a test. How do we see the world? A black and white moral canvas or something more of a gray and foggy screen? Do we see the world as an extension of ourselves, or something entirely separate? Do we mind imperfection, or are we obsessed by the lack of it?

The way I see it, Ned and Kate's relationship as a twin is a cathexis process both of them desperately needed in the absence of their mother and insensitivity of their father. A way to fulfill their longing of the parental love and affections so failingly provided by their widowed father, Bruce - who I saw is as lost as he is determined to raise the children right.

Can we blame him? When all he did was trying to act in accordance to the societal norms imposed on him as a man, the leader of the pack. And when he himself lost his dreams when life got in the way?

Beautiful Kate shows us a story about guilt and remorse, and a search for validation, security, and forgiveness. It tells us about how sometimes we failed to love when we want to, because we are so bogged down by memories which actually didn't matter in the end. The film's ingenuity lies in its ability to guide us to the forbidden territory without feeling terrified or awkward by it. The soundtrack is befitting, and the landscape is as barren and beautiful as the movie itself.

Finally, I definitely relate to my favorite scene of all in Beautiful Kate, when Ned and Sally, his little sister finally said goodbye to their father, he told her without reservations she is in actual fact the best achievement of their father. I loved the scene, and it definitely shook me. In one simple gesture, it taught me how you don't need a lot to love, to do so you only need to see.

The story of stuffs and gender

After almost a year and a half in Australia, there are two things I am beginning to look at differently now.

Firstly, what, why, and how much stuffs I am using in my daily life now as compared to when I was in Malaysia. Transportation provides the first striking difference, whereas in Malaysia it's almost impossible to walk to get anywhere near to my destination, I only have to walk to get to school, buy my groceries, and watch movies these days.

Not only I drive almost every day in Malaysia, but every two or three month I drive intensively back and forth from school to home. Although I admit I enjoy driving immensely, especially so with the company of friends and along the beautiful beaches of Pahang, Terengganu, and Kelantan; living in Randwick now provides me with the satisfaction of being able to connect to my local areas, to know every road by foot, to know the owner of the store, to get a glimpse of familiar neighbour every time I walk by. At the same time, it doesn't cut me off from the world.

In terms of buying food and things, I notice how I am producing less surplus when I started to get things I only need. Part of it is attributable to living alone of course, because in Malaysia I usually buy things for my brothers and nieces, which also explains how we are more connected by things than communal interactions in our life now more than ever.

Watch the Story of Stuffs to see what I mean about buying and using stuffs and their impacts on our lives, and watch how much our world has changed since 200 years ago.

Another new perspective which I found revealing is the interplay of sex and gender in our society. Sex is biological, but gender is cultural. Who we are and how we behave is constructed by our society. And guess what, even what we interpret from the Bible, the Last Testament, and the Quran are socially constructed. It really is a question to ponder, what values underlie our judgments in the interactions of our daily life, and how sometimes we are clouded by perspectives which we think our own but not.

I've gained a lot of insightful awareness and confidence in the past year, and I believe I'm already miles away from what I had been before. The only question is, how do I bring these realization home and stay true to myself while bringing about the change I want to see in my home country?

Write, write, write away!

Last night I entertained the thought of myself pretending to be one of the Malaysian expatriates who readily write about our country from abroad. Purely because my father called twice when I was in class, and apparently he was concerned with the types of response I might be getting from my recent article in the Star.

Thankfully, to our surprise the feedback so far has been non-existent. "Things are not good in Malaysia," he contemplated. "Perhaps people are too busy with what's going on in the country they didn't have time to scrutinize your article."

I believe the conversation I had with my parents last night signifies two things; (1) I am beginning to comfortably grow in my skin as a writer and my parents recognized it too, and (2) no matter what or how I am depicted through my writings by the public, my parents do not mind and always know better.

For me, such acknowledgment is a powerful thing.

Ramadhan and another year

Apart from birthdays, Ramadhan always signify the passing of another year to me. In the past 23 years, I've celebrated Ramadhan in three countries (Jordan, Malaysia, and Australia), five states (Terengganu, Kelantan, Pahang, Irbid, and New South Wales), and countless homes and houses and residencies.

It marks the celebration of new people in my life, and the departure of dear ones. I lost my dear calico Tompok during Ramadhan, she waited a week for me to come home from college. I welcomed my second niece a couple of days after the celebration of the month three years ago. I remember outstaying my visit to Terengganu, paying dues to friends and friends of friends with my brother. Last year, I celebrated Ramadhan by going to class - feeling nothing but empowered with the new things I learned about media and advocacy.

Strangely enough, Ramadhan in Sydney never feel so out of place. Perhaps because religion has always been a private matter to me, and in between waking up to the quiet morning and breaking my fast and praying in the evening, I don't feel the need to remove myself from the surroundings which are completely oblivious to the presence of Ramadhan. On the contrary, such differences often offers me a clarity of mind, an opportunity to return to myself at the end of the day and engage in conversation with God and the universe about what I'd like to see in the world in my lifetime.

These days, when I break my fast - sometimes in the class with Tim Tam in hand, sometimes at home with a cup of coffee and a plate of scones, sometimes in a cafe with much longed for cappuccino - I look back at my past Ramadhan, strewn with tales and stories of families, friends, and dear ones. I also wonder at the future, who and how and where am I going to share my Ramadhan with next.

If there is anything I learn about this month, perhaps I'd agree with how spiritual and sacred and special Ramadhan can be; because somehow throughout my lifetime and especially so as I grow older, in presence of dear ones or without them - I never feel alone in Ramadhan.

Of friends and new companion

A friend was going out on a blind date, and she was asking me what if she doesn't like the guy, what if he doesn't like her, what if they don't like each other. She said he looks nice, but she doesn't have a good feeling about him. What if the cultural differences is too wide there is no way of reconciling them even if they are attracted to each other?

One thousands and one questions ran through her head, and she's getting anxious about their impending meeting in the evening.

I smiled, and I rubbed two palms of my hands together. Love, human beings, and relationships is my pet subject. I toiled a good two years of my life, crying and laughing when I wrote a book about it. You see, I told her, human interaction is something we've all missed nowadays. No longer we are allowed to understand, to observe, and to discover the beauty of human emotions the way people used to do 200 years ago.

These days, when we love, we love fully. When we hate, we hate fully. Life is no longer about teaching ourselves to tame, or to let our emotions run free. We know what we want, and what matters is getting them. Human relationship has become so simple these days. To us, life is like a series of walls with doors and windows, and all we need to do when we like or dislike someone is open or close those doors and windows.

Friends? Accept. No friends? Ignore. Friends? Answer. No friends? Screen. Friends? Follow. No friends? Block.

People used to get stuck with the person they loathe for weeks sometimes. People used to have to wait for months to get their letters answered, even when there is no guarantee they will receive one. People used to reserve their judgments until they meet in person.

All we need to do today is Google the person's name, check him or her out on Facebook, and read what he or she blogs about. We have the full liberty to shut and slam our doors to anyone we think we're not going to get along with. Considering how easily we can terminate our relationship these days, no wonder societies are getting fidgety when it comes to forming new relationships.

Our social circles are getting smaller, we choose to hang out only with people we like, we ignore those we don't like.

Go out and have fun. I told her. There is only so much you can think and worry about, and I don't think you want to go there. Enjoy the first smile and the twinkle in his eyes when your eyes met. Watch his face light up when he sees you, his whole body language relaxed when he watched your smile. Experience, feel, and notice his presence beside you. Don't let the moment passed because you're too worried about what he might think of you. Talk to him, and listen to him.

Even if you end up disliking each other later on, you'll have your integrity intact, and you'll be proud to know you didn't spend 1% of your life worrying about what a stranger might think of your life. Because obviously, you know better.