Of actions and trickeries.

I haven't written a blogpost for the longest time and I'm not sure if I can or know what to say.

This blog, as I repeatedly read through the archives, reminds me of how hopeful I get when I'm in love. Most of the posts were written with such intense love and I remember those moments; I was usually so overwhelmed by this feeling of being blessed to know a beautiful soul and I needed to put those feelings into writing. And I did just that. Again and again.

Therefore, know that it fills me with disgust that I could have ever felt that strongly for a liar and a cheater. I'm ashamed to have poured my utmost effort in a false relationship. It was a terribly drawn out lie.

But I will always stand amazed at how things unravel and gets revealed like candy from a burst pinata.

Yes. I was blind for some time, beating away insecurities and nagging feelings when I hit the only colourful culprit who has been keeping secret side candies.

I'm over him but one can never get over betrayal. No. I keep that in my mind every time I meet someone new.


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On a much much happier note, I am currently pursuing my PhD in Anthropology here in Australia. I've had to learn a lot of new social theories and am on unfamiliar grounds but infinitely feeling happier and more confident than before.

God's plans are always great. Alhamdulillah. :)


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Hopefully, by publishing this post, I can somehow carry this blog onwards. I have no love to write about but then love is not the only act in life and I might have some other tricks up my sleeve. ;)

Just one word.

A friend asked this question : In a word, how would you like to be remembered?

Immediately, I realised that we are all caught up in worrying about how people remember us, we speculate about what people think of us and we end up second-guessing ourselves most of the time. The question is simple but it differs drastically from "How do you think people remember you?" It urges us to think of what we aspire to be, something we tend to forget to do the older we get.

It's a good question to ask daily and to check whether we've done anything to meet the requirement we place on ourselves. Focusing on a word per day, per week, per month and striving to be who we want to be. InsyaAllah, a constant push and reminder.

So let's ask the question and let's find the answer within ourselves because it sure isn't in anybody else.

So what's your answer? ;)

Golda Mowe's Iban Dream

A unique work of fantasy fiction based on real beliefs, taboos and terminology of the Iban to weave an epic tale of good versus evil.

The book reads like a fairy tale; descriptive and lacking the intimacy of dialogues. However, I think this is an appropriate tone for a book that targets a younger audience. And yet, the richness of cultural and mythical description keeps a curious adult interested in the book. The story unfolds quickly and I feel that a lot happened in a book that is a few counts shy of 300 pages.

I love finding out about the Iban beliefs, presented in a folklore / legend / myth. I can't help but wish I can be more personally attached to the hero, Bujang Maias, via a more fiction-styled writing. Some parts of the writing did veer towards humanising the characters more and you get a touch of realism in the characters but then the author starts to describe the details of rituals and rites and actions in a somewhat dry manner that washed away the intimacy a reader was beginning to get.

For a fan of myths and culture, I still enjoy the information the book is saturated in but I am not sure people who expect to read a fantasy-fiction would be so entertained by the somewhat dryness of the retelling of this Iban legend.

By the end of the book, I am raring to find out more about the culture and beliefs of our Borneo part of Malaysia but there lacks for me the bitter-sweet end of a literary journey with a hero.

I am, however, duly afraid of Hornbills after reading the book.

How my late father stays a superhero.

My father passed away back when I was 13. Most people won't ask me about my father once they knew that but I love gushing over him. He remains a hero to me.

I look up to him in all aspects of his life. I admire his achievements, his humility, his silence and even his hobbies. I bought a guitar with my first pay just because my fondest memories of us together were our nightly sessions of playing oldies on his guitar. I took up architectural studies just because he used to have this hobby of designing dream houses.

To me, he was a perfect man. And he stayed perfect because I didn't get the chance to grow up and feel jaded about him. He passed away while I was still a girl worshipping her father. I didn't get the chance to use my critical eye on him.

Thinking back, he didn't really open up about his past to me. That's probably because I was still a child. After he passed away, my mum slowly opened up and tell us stories but she took care to always make sure they were stories that let him remain on this pedestal that I've created for him. Perhaps my mum realised earlier on that my father became the muse in most of my achievements. I fought very hard to become the daughter I imagine my father wants me to become.

Nearing 30, I realise that my father has his flaws. He went through some wild years when he was a student. He was a man with very few friends. When we go back to his hometown, my mum was the more amiable one.

Perhaps, my mum really became both mother and father after he passed away. She kept him bright in our minds, a beacon that drove us towards our dreams and aspirations. This simple housewife, who lost her husband while all 5 of her children were still studying, knew that looking up to a father who was perfect, successful  superlative, is the best way to spur us on.

I love my father for all the inspiration he has left me.

I love my mother for all the aspirations she lets me have.

Back for a bit

I am currently trying to conjure up a new research proposal that will hopefully bring me to a new field (and a new continent) insyaAllah.

I am currently unemployed / freelancing just to sustain a comfortable enough living, pay the bills and meet the loved ones, alhamdulillah.

*pause*

I'll try to come back with some substance.

Problem solving.

The problem with surrounding ourselves with people who give compliments freely is that we are so pampered to the point of not budging from this comfort zone.

The problem with surrounding ourselves with people who give non-constructive criticism is that we are so deep inside a ditch we keep digging to disappear from their eyes to the point of not being able to get out and explore our true potential.

The problem with letting ourselves get caught by these people, well, is a problem we can solve by running away...

... to the people we know can help us build ladders with supportive and constructive criticism, the people we know truly understands our potential and our limits, the people we know knows us too well to let us falter with fear or malaise.

One of those people is the one we see in the mirror. :)

Things Left Unsaid.

I have tried and I must come to terms that there is no good out of all my efforts for you. 

I can choose to ignore your negativity because it has become detrimental to my own emotions. I see no point of looking for you because you are hazardous to the calm and peace of my life.

I've worked very hard to sustain serenity through confiding in Allah, trusting Allah and being forever grateful to Allah. I'm working very hard to keep progressing in this manner. I feel like this is the healthiest I have ever been emotionally and mentally. I don't need your worldly troubles and worries to invade this positive space I've created around me. 

I'm not shutting you out completely but please leave your bitterness and negativity outside before you enter my private space. Thank you.

God bless you surely yet I hope your heart is unveiled enough to realise how cruel you have been to forget His blessings.