c h o c o l a t h e a d w e l c o m e s y o u

Akhirnya, aku akur. Rumah baru aku di blogspot. Kepada mereka yang telah memberi feedbcak, aku ucapkan beribu lemon terima kaseh. Kini, rajin-rajin lah kome ke bendaaneh.blogspot.com . Di sini tulisan baru aku akan di post.

Blog yang baru berusia 3 hari ini insyaallah akan terus beroperasi sehingga aku rasa nak muntah darah akibat menulis. Namun, blog pertama dan cintaku selama hampir 5 tahun ini bakal defunct. Sedih pula mahu meninggalkan laman blog pertama aku ni. We had a great time together.

Oh, ya. Bagi kamu yang tak tahu lagi, aku adalah salah seorang staff writer di kasikampus.wordpress.com. Kalau mahu jenis penulisan semi-serius, berkunjunglah ke sana dan jangan lupa tinggalkan komen ya.

Selamat tinggal http://chocolathead.blogs.friendster.com/c_h_o_c_o_l_a_t_h_e_a_d_w/

I was as hungry as a pig. Two spoonfuls of my lunch and something I heard from the table next to me provoked my brain to function again. I turned left to see a hijab clad girl, a Chinese girl and an Indian girl. Sorry, this is not one of those heartwarming multiracial stories. This is about one piece of garment that I have long discarded.

Now, what did I heard from the next table consisting of multiracial BFFs hanging together, eating their lunch? I was about to open up a can of soda when I heard the hijab clad girl saying something similar to this; “Kalau ikut agama, semua orang mesti pakai”. Now at this point I try very hard to follow what the girl was preaching to her non-muslim friends but to no avail. My friend’s piercing voice overpowered and my ear was more likely to catch that annoying, high-pitched voice.

From pieces of the next table conversation that I picked up here and there, I conclude that the Chinese girl had asked the hijab clad girl why there are Muslim girls who do not don the hijab. And that is probably why the statement above was uttered. Their conversation lasted for 10 minutes.

I slap myself for not being able to listen to what that girl has to say about this topic. The topic on hijab always amuses me. It stuns me how people can explain to other people outside of our religion on this particular topic. Because I can’t do that. I can’t explain to people who asked me why I don’t wear a hijab. If people asked me why, I will smile and try hard not to answer it. Unless he or she insists on me answering the question, I am not comfortable in answering a question where I am not totally prepared to answer. Actually, I never prepare an answer if people were to pop the question that I less fond to answer. And usually my answer would be; it’s a matter of choice. I know, I know. It’s not the best answer one can give especially if the person who asked about it is a non-muslim. I always believe that we must give hijab a dignity and answering to why I choose not to don the hijab is very crucial. I don’t want to send the wrong signal and interpretation of Islam to them. But the thing is, I haven’t read up much on hijab nor did I read the excerpts from the holy Quran on the part of covering our aurat. So I am not the best person to talk about hijab and that is probably why I am interested in any topic that involves the aurat and hijab.

Some (uneducated and shallow) people will say that hijab is a form of coercion forced onto women of Islam. Is it true? Do you people who don the hijab felt you are forced into wearing it? Or do you wear it on your own will? I have never asked anyone why they chose to wear or not to wear the hijab. I believe it is not appropriate for me to ask a question that might eventually be thrown back at me. I will never know how to answer. The only thing that I knew is, I myself choose not to wear it and I am pretty much sane and completely sober when I made that decision. It’s not that I have a nice shiny hair to show off to people. I don’t. My hair is as bad as the orang utan’s. (Eh, orang utan where got rambut one?) I don’t really care about my hair. I expose it to the sun daily, I don’t bother to comb it unless somebody said something bad about my hair (The common accusation: I didn’t take my shower before I go to class. It’s my hair-lah! Aku pergi kelas mandi lah gila.), I don’t wear fancy haircare product with a tagprice the amount of my lunch for a month. So why don’t I wear it? I have defied all of the reasons that girls and women typically gave to justify their act of not donning it.

Reading “I Am Muslim” by Dina Zaman a month ago on the topic does not help much either. (I really need a book where I can juice out everything I need to know about hijab and aurat. Suggestions anyone?) The reason she gave for not wearing it, is the same as mine. We believe that the hijab should be given much dignity. No women or girls should do the hijab injustice by not wearing it according to the rules and guidelines that has been set in Islam. You can clearly see in this day and age, the usual tudung clad girls paired the tudung with tight-fitting clothes and low slung jeans where most of the time you can even see the very much fearful: the ugly, no, the VERY ugly butt-crack. I wonder what the fuck were they thinking when they saw their reflection in the mirror before deciding to go out in public in that kind of garb. Fucking stupid-lah wei..

I guess the root problem is in not understanding why you wear it in the first place. Some girls don’t really understand the reason why they are wearing it (Other than the reason that it is required in Islam in which they themselves are not sure which verse it is taken from. Sad.) Some girls wear it because of the fact that she was born a Melayu, and Melayu equals Muslim, and therefore, wearing tudung is unavoidable. The same thing goes with the fact that your parents are Muslims, so you automatically became a Muslim. They never question why they should wear it, what good does it brings, why do they themselves want to wear it. In short, they don’t really understand why they are wearing it. I am not encouraging people to take off their tudung once they finish reading this. The real issue here is there are so many confused girls who wear the tudung for all the wrong reasons. And when the intention to wear it in the first place is not out of sincerity, that’s where we can see cases where tudung-clad girls necking in the wood with irresponsible boys. If a person truly understands why they wear it, I bet my hand on this, they will never have the appetite to let somebody see their butt-crack, let alone wearing a teeny-weeny tee only their 2-years old sister can fit in.

You cynics might say that this whole writing is about me, justifying my act for not wearing a tudung. Yes, I am a sinner. Having said that, I am not proud to be one. But until I discover the true meaning of wearing a hijab, I will continue to let my hair down (pun intended) and continue to ascertain the reason to bundle up my smelly hair in a hijab.

Tiba-tiba semangat ke KL hujung minggu ini luntur sama sekali. Hancur. Tak ada mood langsung. Iya. Aku admit aku ada singgah di blognya sekali-sekala. Especially bila habis semua web kunjungan tetap aku sudah dilawati. Sebulan sebelum White Shoes dijangka turun ke KL aku sudah mengepos satu posting berkenaan event yang bakal ada 5 haribulan akan datang di ruangan blog aku. Sial. Aku tahu dulu! Posting aku jadi bukti, jadi saksi! Jadi aku bukan stalker, okay. At least itu yang aku fikir dia akan fikir.

Sejurus mengetahui dia juga bakal ada di sana, hasrat membuak-buak aku nak ke KL lupus sama sekali. Sebelum masuk tidur selepas penat berdiri sepanjang hari semalam, aku fikir, aku mesti pergi. Aku takkan biar penantian sebulan lebih sikit aku ini jadi sia-sia semata-mata melayan paranoia aku yang mungkin dia pun tidak fikir macam yang aku fikir. Iya. Aku saja yang paranoid. Untuk menyedapkan hati aku yang berantakan sekarang ini, kalimat “Aku saja yang paranoid” itu aku ulang-ulang setiap kali aku terfikirkan rancangan untuk melarikan diri sebaik sahaja nampak kelibat dia di sana nanti. Iya ya? Kenapa aku takut sangat. Aku tak buat salah. Cuma aku tak mahu dia fikir aku seorang budak perempuan berambut besar yang tak habis-habis obses dengan dia. Obses? Aku? Tidaaak!

Eh, saat-saat paranoid ini mengingatkan aku pada teori self-fulfilling prophecy yang pernah aku belajar setahun yang lalu. Iya. Jika aku terus-menerus mengatakan semua ini, teori perkabulan diri akan terjadi. Oh my god Syefa, stop thinking! Tak mengapa. KL tetap akan aku jejak hujung minggu ini demi cinta aku terhadap White Shoes dan (bakal) kasut Keds-ku. I deserve this. Aku perlu momen-momen indah tak terkata bersama White Shoes untuk aku hold on to sepanjang tahun ini. Supaya aku kekal normal.

Nota: Aku tahu kamu tak faham apa yang aku tulis di atas. Aku pun tak faham. Maaflah loyal reader-ku semua. Aku sedang menghadapi hari-hari gelap writer’s block. Entah bila aku akan pulih.

Hands up siapa yang setuju aku berpindah ke blogspot!

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Sumpah aku takkan percaya lagi pada review-review wartawan Melayu di akhbar Melayu. Makan suap nak mampus. Akibat termakan review yang memuji Anak Halal melambung-lambung, aku pun beria-ia mengajak rakan aku untuk menonton. Sudahlah aku orangnya sukar nak ke panggung wayang. Rasa macam nak serahkan diri bulat-bulat pada steamroller untuk digilis macam scene khayalan Fasha “annoying” Sandha dalam Anak Halal sesudah menonton filem kedua Osman Ali ini. Oh, anyway, I quit writing in English for a while. Screw English. Poseur-poseur pun dah start menulis in English membuatkan aku menyampah nak menulis dalam English. Pergi mati wahai poseur-poseur sialan. I refuse to be the majority. Until then, you guys have to read my blog in Malay lah. Sampai aku rasa it’s time for me to write in English again.

Kembali ke Anak Halal, bukan niat aku untuk memburuk-burukkan filem Osman Ali yang dikatakan a promising young director ni. Aku pun tak boleh nak cakap banyak sebab filem-filem nya sebelum ini tak pernah aku tonton. Termasuklah Bukak Api, Malaikat Di Jendela, Puaka Tebing Biru. Tapi aku agak kecewa dengan Anak Halal ni bukan sebab apa, sebab review-review sialan tu tadi lah! The first 15 minutes of the movie is quite promising lah. Not bad. Walau ada kesilapan skala kecil (nombor plat kereta polis yang membawa Bunda pergi ialah WDS dan setahu aku plat tu wujud tahun 1999 saja. Time-frame scene tu 1997.) aku masih maafkan lagi sebab dia berjaya cari kereta polis lama (scene Rosyam Noor dikepung polis). Tapi bila tiba part samseng-samseng overacting mula masuk frame, aku dah mula rasa nak meludah sambil menyumpah-nyumpah pemilih pelakon untuk filem ini.

2007 dan masih ada lagi samseng yang suka meludah sebelum pukul orang. Meludah sebelum mintak hutang. Meludah sebelum bercakap. Meludah sebelum menarik picu pistol. Meludah sebelum merogol. Meludah sebelum makan. Meludah sebelum mandi. Meludah sebelum ambik air sembahyang. Dan ludahan lain-lain lagi. (Anyway, 2 ludahan terakhir adalah rekaan semata.) apehal entah suka sangat nak meludah. Pelakon-pelakon samseng itu, Zulhuzaimy, Fizz “bangang” Fairuz dan Fairuz “kepalahotakdia” Nawawi merosakkan keseluruhan Anak Halal membuatkan filem ini serasa filem komedi lakonan amateur comedian yang baru lepas menang “Sinaran Pasport Kegemilangan”. Kalau aku nak tengok cerita komedi, baik aku bukak Astro tengok Raja Lawak. 10 kali ganda lawak dari melihat lakonan super duper horrible ketiga-tiga badut ini. They are trying too hard. Dan ini membuatkan watak samseng itu serasa dibuat-buat dan un-natural. Apa? Mereka fikir dengan membuat muka monyet dan terkinja-kinja macam babi dah melayakkan mereka untuk jadi gangster? Please-lah.. Audiens kamu bukan orang kampong yang masih lagi stuck on Maria Mariana atau filem-filem sezamannya.

Kesimpulannya, pelakon tak buat homework. Rasanya masa dia buat homework, dia tiru pelakon gangster zaman 80s dan 90s kut. Silap period lah bang. Tapi pelik jugak. Masa shooting, takkanlah sorang pun daripada krew filem rasa ketiga badut ni overacting? Kan? Macam, buta ke? Oh iya.. Nama filem pun ada sebut halal. Jadi, halalkan je lah apa yang diorang buat ye tak? Kalau aku ada time diorang shoot, aku akan jerit “Fuck! Berlakon macam babi nak kena giling!” sambil berdiri belakang Maya Karin. So kalau diorang nak marah pun tak boleh sebab sure diorang ingat Maya yang jerit. Not to say suara aku macam Maya Karin (sebab suara aku lagi better). Sebab nak berdiri belakang Fasha “annoying” Sandha tak boleh. Suara aku bukan macam Doraemon. So, suara Maya sajalah yang paling dekat pun. Dah lah. Kalau nak cakap pasal diorang sampai bila pun tak habis. I can go on and on and on.. And don’t you guys get me started on Fasha “annoying” Sandha. OMG. (Sila perhatikan dengan teliti scene dimana Fasha “annoying” Sandha menghirup masuk heroin melalui hidung di belakang lori Farid Kamil. Tak ubah macam babi. Entah lah. Mata aku je kut nampak dia macam tu.) Enough said.

Penulis skrip untuk filem ini patut diberikan pujian kerana berani memasukkan ayat-ayat budak-budak jalanan yang kotor dan provoking. Contohnya:

“Macam gampang”

“Apa ni, main tendang bontot pulak”

“Sial lah kau”

Tetapi penulis skrip juga patut diberikan penampar sepenuh tenaga apabila keluar dengan dialog-dialog bodoh tahap sial seperti:

“Jo, marilah kita menari dalam angin”

“Aku takkan tinggalkan kau walau sehela nafas pun”

“Di Zuhal, masa berputar 100 kali ganda lebih lambat dari bumi”

“Benda ini sajalah (sambil mengangkat sepeket heroin) yang memberikan aku nafas selain cinta kau”

I was like, apa hal dengan penulis skrip ni? Awal-awal skrip ganas nak mati. Dah hujung-hujung cerita, skrip macam haram. Aku tak habis-habis gelak mengenangkan kesanggupan pelakon-pelakon so-called papan atas ini meluahkan dialog-dialog ridiculous. Bodoh jugak diorang ni ye.

Aku tak pasti nak panggil ni apa tapi, background music atau sound effect, what everlah kan, paling kelakar time watak Rosyam Noor keluar di hujung cerita tu. Gila kelakar. Sooo cheesy okaay.. Aku tak sanggup nak explain further. Menambahkan dosa aku je.

Disebalik semua kegalauan dan kebodohan actor dan aktresnya, Anak Halal did offer something else. Pada aku, lakonan yang berkesan datang dari Bront Palarae yang membawa watak Daniel. Agak convincing. Walau wataknya kecil, tapi jiwa anak jalanan tu ada pada dia. Farid kamil juga memberikan lakonan yang berkesan. Kecuali apabila dia mula memuntahkan dialog-dialog bodoh seperti yang disebut di atas, dia fail. Lain daripada tu, lakonannya lebih baik dari sebelum ini. (Cieee..macamlah aku pernah tengok dia berlakon sebelum ni.) watak Adi Putra pula agak confusing. On certain parts of the story, he tried to be funny, Pada masa lain pulak, he became someone else.

Raja Farah cemerlang dalam “Anak Halal”. Bukanlah cemerlang sangat, tapi masa part dia menangis masa dapat tahu abangnya jual dadah tu sangatlah berjaya okay.. Nak dibandingkan lakonan dia dalam “Salon” dulu, this one better sangat-sangat.

Maya Karin, well, her street BM is good, lesser make-up, non-pretentious laughter and all this adds up to, hmmm..okaylah. Not bad. Not bad at all.

I know. The idea of the story is fresh. Untuk Osman Ali, kudos for a fresh and different storyline. Jalan cerita yang mahu dibawa oleh Osman Ali ini tidak dapat dinafikan, bagus. Malangnya pemilihan pelakon yang salah telah merosakkan keseluruhan filem yang sepatutnya boleh menjadi satu filem yang baik. Aku pun tak tahu apa yang reviewer di akhbar sisipan  Pancaindera cakap tentang lakonan mantap dari Fasha “annoying” Sandha dalam filem ni. Part mana? Part dia menghidu heroin macam babi tu? Punyalah tertipu aku. Aku sumpah. Aku takkan tertipu lagi dengan review makan rasuah wartawan-wartawan akhbar Melayu yang corrupt dan tak jujur dalam menjalankan tugasnya sebagai reviewer. Golongan inilah yang paling sial macam haram, merosakkan kepercayaan yang diberi oleh rakyat jelata macam aku yang mengharapkan kejujuran dalam me-review filem-filem Malaysia.

Reviewer ikhlas macam aku ni diperlukan. Supaya RM10 korang tak sia-sia.

Remember when I said that Hujan’s songs have become the soundtrack of my life, my current life? So here’s the one that reflects me best right now—moving on. And couldn’t care less about other people. Which is, what I did, most of the time. So yeah! I can say I’m quite content!

Kini ku sepi

Tak mahu buang masa lagi mencari

Mencari

Dindingnya terlalu tinggi

Ku cuma mahu tahu apa di sebelah

Tak salah

—- memang helahnya

Tangan umur 3 tahun cuba genggam satu semesta

Tak sakit

Tak sakit

Nawaitunya ada

Tergesa gesa

Rasa gelisah

Ini pasrah!

Ku lihat kabur

Ku harus akur

Aku tidur.

1

Hari ini aku kurang depressive

Baguslah untuk aku

Esok esok siapa yang tahu

Mungkin bunuh diri nombor satu

Dalam list to-do aku

Tapi bukan hari ini

Tak ada siapa yang boleh rosakkan hari non depressive aku hari ini

Baguslah ni

Tak adalah aku rasa teruk hari ni

Macam hari hari sebelum ni

Di mana aku hanya lupa pada kesedihan

Bila aku berjalan

Bila aku meilhat awan

Bila aku tak berhenti makan

Esok

Jadilah macam hari ni

Janganlah biar aku depress lagi

Aku dah penat macam ni

Aku pun deserve to be happy.

2

Malam makin pekat

Aku makin tenggelam dalamnya

Tiada apa yang mahu aku isikan

Cuma mahu mendengar bunyi

Pensel mekanikalku menari

Di atas kertas berbelang ini

Aku rasa kosong

Akhirnya

Aku berhenti memikirkan dia

Aku berhenti menangis

Aku berhenti berasa sedih pada sendiri

Hebat itu awesome

Tiba tiba aku benci perkataan itu

Tidak

Aku benci awesome

Tapi

Aku suka hebat

Biarlah

Aku tak boleh jadi dia

Dia awesome

Aku definitely tak hebat

Tapi aku adalah satu

Dia tak boleh jadi aku

Aku tak boleh jadi dia

Awesome tak boleh jadi hebat

Hebat tak boleh jadi awesome

Maka ternyatalah

Kami adalah individual

Peduli apa rambut aku teruk.

It is incredible how warmth, delight and stillness blend in one unnamed feeling that I develop for the past 2 days, namely, yesterday. I’ve been here in KL since last Sunday and boredom was written on the card. I stay at home most of the time, screaming my heads off at my nieces who drives me totally insane. They are a bunch of relentless, fully-charged monkeys who can’t seem to rest or take a break from doing what they do best which is–annoying me. I woke up one day and decided not to go back home and stay here in KL for a couple of days and thanks to the nice hospitality from Adek, my dearest friend from the diploma days, I finally can breathe again.

Feeling zero and out, I stroll down the busy roads of Kuala Lumpur and I soak up the energy of the people around me. Seeing their faces and watching closely their actions somehow gave me the will to go on with my life. I don’t plan to stop. I walked, I stuffed my ear with the earphone attached to my CD player, playing the CD that I burnt ages ago which contains the compilation of Hujan’s magnificent songs. The songs help me to distort the hustle and bustle of the city, the noise, the heat, the depressive faces I saw, the sadden state I was in. Hujan was somehow the soundtrack of my life these days. But someway, hujan was the last thing KL offers me. Sigh. But apart from the un-rainy days, everything about KL and the plain, unassuming people I saw along the road is memorable. I could never find anyone as individual as these people are. They are one and they are honest. Someone told me I don’t smile a lot. I know I don’t. I don’t smile for pretentious people. I only smile for people who deserve my smile. I don’t have much to offer to people. And smile is something that I value and it is expensive, coming from me.

Back to yesterday, I find myself stuck in a situation that I thought only existed on the TV screen and never in real life. I often smug at the occurrence of this situation, and said to myself “It’s not real”. And now I regret and pity myself for being such cynic. There I was, stepping into a humble home of a new friend in Kampung Melayu, basking in the yellow beam that afternoon, pacing myself step by step to the clamorous sounds of a bunch of girls. My steps took me to the kitchen where I saw smiley, happy looking faces, brightly lit by the shaft of light coming in from the window pane. Adek introduced me to her friends earlier when we have a short picnic in Bukit Belacan in Ampang. So now, I pretend to be the new addition to their batch of friends and spent half of my day with them. We plan to watch movie at MBO in Galaxy. Well, actually, they do. But what touches me the most that afternoon is how happy and blissful these people are. Sitting in the kitchen, gossiping about the donut affairs, teasing each other, laughing until their cheeks are red, they seem, happy. Really happy.

Diana’s mum was also in the crowd, teasing these girls that she had known and treat like her own child all these years. It was a perfect moment. A perfect picture. A perfect occasion. I look around the table and stare at those faces I won’t forget, seeing how happy they were, seeing their rosy red cheeks, hearing their insane laughter. I find myself retaining myself from crying. Face down, I played with my food and told myself, this is love.

I smiled. I chanced upon pure love today and surprisingly, it is nothing like what I imagine all my life. I saw pure love in the form of 7 beautiful people who share a mutual feeling for each other, bonded by one magical word: friendship.

I will never forget these people and that afternoon. They proven to me that friendship still exist. They shown me something that is so valuable and illusory that I thought only meant for daytime TV soaps. They are a bunch of extraordinary people often pictured in my imagination, in a self-created land where I wish I am in right now.

I thank god for yesterday.

Come January, my favorite 60s oriented band will be performing in KL. White Shoes & The Couples Company, MCPA Hall, 5th January 2008 and me. I’ll definitely going to be there. No matter what happen, I will be there, standing amidst other frantic White Shoes lovers, screaming their lungs out once White Shoes is on the stage. I will be there. Standing at the back, savouring every moment, taking in every breath blissfully, smiling relentlessly, grinning to the lyrics of Aksi Kucing, singing along to Senandung Maaf and maybe snapping some photos for memento. I doubt I will be taking much photos because I will be standing there, intoxicated, smiling and I might even forgot that I bring my camera along. Plus, optical zoom sucks. I’ll probably borrow Sri’s DSLR for this matter.

If I die that night, I’ll be one happy corpse. Overstating? Me? No. I am just a “bentar-lagi-jadi-corpse” girl who are soooo in love with White Shoes. Well, I think I deserve this. I’ve been down for so long, I need something to cheer me up again and White Shoes is an F-ing godsend. But I have to painfully wait for another 35 more days before I get to see them in action. And that is throbbing. I have to go through my dreary days and nights, being miserable before I could smile again on the 5^th. God, please speed up the time for me. I don’t care about Christmas, I don’t care about Aidiladha, I don’t care about New Year, I don’t care about registration day, I don’t care about my result, I don’t care about my pointer. Please fast forward the time to the 5^th so that I can fill my empty heart with Aprillia Apsari’s angelic voice. But until then, I have to make myself busy, lamenting on the passing days, thinking about all of the horrific things that occurred to me for the past 2 months, weeping helplessly while I’m asleep and waking up in the middle of the night, thinking of my bleak future and spent the next 2 hour reflecting the few moments in my life when I am actually happy. And with every fleeting second, I cry myself to sleep.

There are many thing that makes people happy. Some people have a certain passion to turn to when they feel they have nothing in this world to hang on to. I have been asked once about the P word. Surprisingly, I couldn’t think of anything. I could easily lie, but I didn’t. I smiled and my head were cracking, trying to find one thing that I have a deep passion for. Well, as you guessed it, I couldn’t find one. Pathetically, I asked if sleeping is considered as a passion. I mean, it is a passion if we loved it so much kan? So I love to sleep. So what. So what if I am an unproductive jerk who spent her days walking around for hours, watching people pass her by with inexplicable expressions on their faces. So what if I walked under drizzling rain with only my faithful brown pullover hood on. So what if I walk all day long with no definite destination. I don’t care what people think. As long as it makes me happy and keep my mind off thinking the horrible things in life, I will keep on walking for miles, smiling while looking up to the black sky, ready to pour down the calming drops from heaven. As for the P word, I haven’t found it yet. Screw it. I don’t need passion to be happy.

Note: Oh ya. White Shoes & The Couples Company will be performing on the 5^th of January 2008, MCPA Hall 2, KL alongside with terrific opening bands such as Hujan, The Times and Couple (Gasp. 4 of my favorites on one stage. I don’t think I can handle this, this EXTREME happiness.). Tickets sold at RM15.

Fuck. This hurts.

Again.

This, this "thing" has taken its toll on me.