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

“Should I call him?”

One faithful evening, my best girl asked me this. It’s a
classic case of falling terribly in love. She’s smitten by the charms of a
20-something guy who keeps on giving mixed signals to her.

“I don’t know.”

That’s the honest answer I gave to her. I am seriously the
wrong person for her to ask such question. If she wants a hypocrite answer, I
think I’ll say “No. Don’t. Don’t call him.”

“Should I text him?”

Another question that I sincerely don’t know what the
answer. She is obviously falling for this guy. I can’t answer this kind of
question cruelly. She’ll be devastated. I kept on wondering. Why should she be
in doubt? Why did she keep on asking me if she should call him up or text him?

“I don’t know. Do you want to text him?”

Yes. That’s the only logic answer I can give to her at
that moment. I knew she wants to call him. She just doesn’t want to be seen as
cheap. She doesn’t want to be like every other girl who swarmed him for his
good looks. She wants to be special. She wants to be different. One thing for
sure, she wants to be noticed.

“What do you think about him?”

I gulped at this question. I don’t like him. I think he’s
not a good guy. I think he’s not serious. I think he’s bad. I think he’s a
jerk. Can I say all that? Of course not. Maybe it’s because I don’t know him
that well. But how can I say something good about him, if the last time I saw
him, he is not sober and how the heck can I detect good vibes from a guy who
was drunk, in denial of the fact that he is ACTUALLY drunk and keep calling my
girlfriend a monkey? How can a sane person like me take him seriously? “Monkey.
Mon-keyhh! Go monkey go.” I can’t stop laughing my a** off every time I
remember this line from the badly drunken guy who surprisingly managed to finish
his Nasi Kandar at the same time.

“I don’t know. He’s not my type of guy. So I can’t talk
nice about him, I only can list down bad-bad things about him. He’s just not my
type and because of that, I only can talk bad about him because I can only see
his bad sides.”

Silent. She kept her eye on the road. She kept on driving
and gave me a smirk. I knew I shouldn’t say that. I know I have given her an
answer that she didn’t want to hear. I wanted to be perfectly honest with her.
I don’t want her to get hurt by some bar-tending guy who awfully tried to act
cool on his day off. Jerk. I don’t know. Maybe he’s a good person. Maybe he’s
not like what I pictured him as. There are thousand of possibilities that I
might be wrong. But there’s also a chance that I might be right. But at this
moment, I’ll keep her happy.

“If you really like him, you should just go for it. Don’t
think twice of calling him. If you feel like calling him, do so. You don’t have
to ask me or anyone else. If you really like him, take the first step. Don’t
hold back.”

Pffttt.. I should give myself a pat on the back for
providing her such motivation. I sometimes wonder how good I am at motivating
my friends to do something that I cannot possibly do myself. It’s amazing how
we can talk people out from doing something or the other way around. Ego is a
big word and I hate it. I refuse to use it. Gengsi is perfect.

“Kalau suka, kenapa harus gengsi.”

I told her that. Once again, I overdo myself. Every single
piece of advice that I gave to her applies to me. I just can’t seem to grab it.
I can’t stick to my own advice. What she did, I probably did it countless of
times. But still, I gave her answers that I use to tell myself every time I’m
alone. Talking to yourself is pretty calming, I must say. I confess, I did it
most of the time. It became a habit, a part of me. Since I can’t talk to anyone
else about how I felt, I talk to myself. I turn to myself for friendly advice.
The sad advisory columns on magazines and newspapers only give you feel-good crap.
So I talk to myself rather than reading some sad human being who is going
through his or her middle age crisis, giving advice on some pathetic problems
that seems pretty much reflects mine. Therefore, when my gal pal ask me the
question that sort of reflects what is going on through my mind all of these
while, I spur everything that I thought was right, all of the advice that I
have given myself.

Yes. I do like someone. Again. Yes. I know. For the
god-knows-consecutive-times. I just don’t have the guts to fall in love again
and eventually have get myself to fall out of love again and again and again.
This time around, things get complicated. Or like my bestie told me a week
before, “Things are not complicated. You yang buat things complicated.”
Sigh. She knew me well. But Aliah sayang, if you’re reading this, you do
know that I am diagnosed with a deadly low self-esteem disease and it is not
curable kan? Kan?

I can’t measure up to him. I don’t have any talent to be
proud of. Heck I don’t even have ANYTHING to be proud of. This, my dear, is a
classic case of being afraid of rejection.

Tapi, iya
ya. Kalau suka, kenapa harus gengsi?

Go monkey
go!

SELAMAT HARI HARTAL.

…err actually, I’m a day late.

For more info on Hartal: http://10tahun.blogspot.com

Question: What is one word that best describe me and my writings nowadays?

Answer: Insincere.

I went through my writings for the past two months a second ago and I hate what I read. I am becoming a deceitful writer. I am not sincere in my writings anymore. I have to admit that for the past couple of months, I’ve been writing to impress you people. This is bad. I never wrote for anybody and once I found myself in a situation where I write to please people, it began to freak me out. How do I turn out to be this way, this grotesque monster? This is not right. If I were desperate enough to impress people, I’ll be in the Jazz Band or something. Well, not that my skill in handling any musical instruments is great anyways. Heck I don’t even know how to play a single musical instrument. But that’s a whole different story.

So, how do I become what I became today? A hypocritical writer, a two-faced wreck. I still can recall those perfect days when I wrote with such carefree and relentlessly. I knew that there were no normal human being is interested spending his or her time, reading my ramblings. But deep down, I wish there were somebody out there who reads through my blog and discreetly admires me for my writings. Or my cute face. Kidding. Now I know I might sound a bit cocky here but, I knew today there are people out there who are currently reading this particular posting and sniggered at the fact that my insecurities have successfully flit around me. I know there are actually real human being out there who waits for me to be pissy with hope that I will wrote down all of my fuming annoyance that I encountered in my daily lives in my blog. I can’t help but to wonder, why can’t I make peace with the world. The world will never change. So do the people in it. I cant be irate all of the time. I knew I had that happy moments, although not customarily, but, I knew I was happy. I tasted happy. But rage overpowered happy most of the time. And I knew, I cant keep it to myself because that is what I’ve been doing for as long as I lived. As a solution, I write. I knew, with writing, I could get all the rant and rave out of my chest. I can finally breathe normally again. Nevertheless, once I read what I read, I hate the person I am becoming. It seems like, all of the sudden, I wrote craps and it gets crappier with every post. I could sense which writings that I did to impress you people. I use pompous words that, I couldn’t understand myself. Pompous. There. I did it again.

I construct stupid words into a phrase that I knew does not correctly express what I wanted to put across in the first place. I am faking my voice. I no longer wrote for myself. I used to write for myself. I felt I am more sincere in writing back then. I could write pages and pages of what I am feeling at that particular moment and not even noticing the time has passed me by. I could sit and write for hours and hours, writing frenziedly inside my journal and further posting it to my blog. But at present, I spent 2 hours just to write a single paragraph for my blog posting. Something has gone terribly wrong. Either it is me, or the way I think and appraise the people and the circumstances that revolves around me. I think it’s me. I have gone bonkers. I need therapy.

Until then, please bear with this loner-loser-insecure freak that is writing for this blog. Please abide with her writings until she finally unearth her real self again. Thank you for your support and continuous appraisal to this freak. She would like to thank each and every one of you who have loyally read through her bitching and endless yapping although you have discovered how dishonest she was in her writings through her confession just now. She promised to be truthful and a wee bit joyful in her postings next time. Cheerio!

How can you forgive a liar? A few days ago, I was baking and my mum confront with the fact that my ex-SIL wanted my brother back. The only respond that I gave to this shit is “Hm” and that’s it. I don’t give a fuck. I don’t feel anything. I couldn’t feel anything. My mum thought this news might shock me but no. It did not. I can’t recall the last time I felt alive and kicking. Most of the time that I had, I spent it with dreaming away and watching people around me, trying to absorb any vibe that they have to keep me alive. At least, seeing their happy or sad or distraught faces or anything will remind me of how does it feel to be a person with full expressions that I was once upon a time ago. Why the fuck I cant feel anything? Everything that revolves around me doesn’t seem to affect me, emotionally and physically, anymore. So when my mum dropped the bomb last week, I cannot react the way I supposed to. I should freak or something. But I didn’t. I believe my dull reaction disappoints my mum because she seems eager to gossip about the issue with me. Well, screw me for not being born with the “kaki gossip” feature in my vein, mum. Back in my bed, I lie there and start to think of how idiot she is then and how she is still, idiot as always, now. One thing that keeps me thinking all night is, how can you possibly forgive someone you already despise and swear to hate for the rest of your life? How can you face a snake? A fraud. A liar. Fuck. I am an unforgiving person. I don’t do the “forgive and forgive” horseshit. Yes. I am a cold-hearted bitch. I don’t give a fuck what you people think about me because if I do, I’ll be dead by now, rather than trying hard to impress every single pathetic human being roaming the earth this millennium. When I was in Jakarta with my mum, our tour guide reads my mum’s palm and he started to spill what he read on my mum’s palm. I thought he was kidding. It turns out that he was exactly right about my mum. Everything that he said about my mum was true. My mum freaked. In our hotel room, she told me how impressed she was and she wants him to read me later. Now, it’s my turn to freak. I refuse to be read by some bald, sweaty middle age guy who looks like more than eager to grab my ass or something like it. Okay. I’m exaggerating. But hell no, I wont let anybody read me. Maybe it’s because I don’t want my mum knew how I am full of hatred and abhorrence that continues to pollute my lung and repugnance that I have left inside, creeping under my skin all these while. She doesn’t have to know. She doesn’t have to know how dark I am. She doesn’t have to know how miserable I am with my life. She doesn’t have to know that I hate myself for being such a useless prick. She doesn’t have to know anything about me. The only thing that she has to know is that, I am still her daughter. The one she bore 22 years ago. The one she stops to understand when she hit her puberty. The one she abandoned to a boarding school to rot. I am not regretting anything. I thank her for all that she has done for me. Her every decision in my life made me what I am today. And I am grateful for that. I am grateful that I am not the girl who cries when the shoe store doesn’t have her size. I am grateful I am not the girl who depends on male population to feel important and cared about. I am grateful I am not the girl who is obsessed with self-image and relies on tons of fake cosmetics just to feel better about herself. I know, selfish. I am selfish. WTF. I am happy being who I am today. At least I am not faking myself. I know exactly who I am. So I don’t give a fuck if that conniving bitch wanted to be with my brother again. I couldn’t care less. For me, she is a liar and always is. I will never forgive her and if that is my ticket to hell, I’ll take it with open heart. Forgive and forget sucks. Tell me which insane-positivist-pig that invented that phrase and I’ll kill him with a shovel, piercing through his neck. God how I wish I were Beatrix Kiddo.

rindukah ini?

aku tak pernah tahu

apa itu rindu

hingga kamu pergi.

ini tidak mungkin rindu

tidak

bukan rindu

ini kekejaman

jarak menjadi kejam terhadap aku

masa menjadi kejam terhadap aku.

kamu mungkin sudah luput memori

segala tentang aku

sedangkan aku di sini

mencuba memahami

rindukah aku

pada sosok yang aku dakap isnin itu.

You’ve read the review (If you haven’t, it’s just a post away. Scroll down.). You’ve heard the hype (If you haven’t, well, which hole have you been living in?). Here’s a chance to catch the outstanding short docu-film by Fahmi Reza. If you missed it earlier, when it first hit Penang last 2 weeks, you can still catch it thanks to SUARAM whom organized this event. The screening will be on 6th and 7th of October, this weekend. Starting at 8.30 pm onwards at Han Chiang College. Admission is free. So why waste RM10 for Knocked Up if you can see a mindfucking short film for free?

Plus, you get to meet and greet the film-maker himself, Fahmi Reza. He’ll be more than pleased to answer your questions and open for any personal discussion about the movie. He’s a nice guy. So, don’t be afraid to come up to him if you’re too scared to ask him questions during the discussion session. Owh ya! The discussion session on the 6th will be in Mandarin, 7th in English and Bahasa. So, unless you are proficient in all of the language, pick your day.

So, I’ll see you guys there!