Saturday, November 24, 2012

Falling behind

I debated whether I should be writing this post in one language or the other, went through several conflicts of interest..... that's why it took me so long to put my thoughts together. And finally putting up the infomations I have been rather diligently collecting (seeing that I'm not diligent enough) for a while. This has waited for... around two weeks, I believe, and since I have the time, I should do this.

1) Sabian
That should be English... I think. In case I'm wrong, look it up if you want.
I came across this article, and went to Wikipedia to check out what it was. The Sabians are stated around 3 times (that I know of) in the Quran;

2:62 - "Sesungguhnya orang mukmin, orang Yahudi, orang Nasrani dan orang Sabi'in, siapa saja di antara mereka yang benar-benar beriman kepada Allah, hari kemudian dan beramal soleh, mereka akan menerima pahala daripada Tuhan mereka, tidak ada kekhuatiran terhadap mereka dan tidak (pula) mereka bersedih hati."

5:69 - "Sesungguhnya orang mukmin, orang Yahudi, orang Sabi'in dan orang Nasrani, siapa saja (di antara mereka) yang benar-benar beriman kepada Allah dan hari kemudia serta beramal soleh, maka tidak ada kekhuatiran terhadap mereka dan mereka tidak pula bersedih hati."

22:17 - "Sesungguhnya orang beriman, orang Yahudi, orang Sabi'in, orang Nasrani, orang Majusi dan orang musyrik, Allah akan memberi keputusan di antara mereka pada hari kiamat. Sesungguhnya Allah menyaksikan segala sesuatu."

2) Kisah Bilal bin Rabah
*changing my language*
Malam itu baru hendak tidur... tapi rasa tidak boleh, so online Facebook jap. Memandang status kakak yang saya sangat respect, tak perasaan isi status tersebut. Selepas itu bermula lah 'perbincangan' tentang sahabat ini.

'Satu hari Abu Zar terserempak dengan Bilal dan menegurnya, "Wahai anak si hitam." Bilal terasa dan berkecil hati dengan Abu Zar, lantas mengadu kepada Rasulullah. Baginda menegur Abu Zar, "Wahai Abu Zar, sesungguhnya masih ada jahiliah dalam diri kamu." Abu Zar meminta maaf dengan meletakkan mukanya ke tanah untuk Bilal pijak.' Terasa macam dipaksa, tapi terima kasih sahabat.

(Susahnya untuk menulis dalam bahasa sendiri.... takpe, cuba, cuba) Begitulah al-kisahnya. sebenarnya cerita di sebalik cerita ini, ada pengalaman pahit. Tapi disebabkan sudah satu semester berlalu, dalam otak dah terpahat yang peristiwa tersebut adalah pengalaman manis. Berapa banyak kawan yang cerita tentang sahabat nabi dalam satu hari? Atau satu bulan? Atau setahun? Tak tahu la. Sebab itu pengajaran disebaliknya saya ingat sampai sekarang.

"Dan jika kamu menghitung nikmat Allah, nescaya kamu tidak akan dapat menentukan jumlahnya. Sesungguhnya Allah benar-benar Maha Pengampunan lagi Maha Penyayang." Al-Quran 16:18

Suddenly I have forgotten what I was going to say. Oh, and I'm glad the attacks on Gaza are put on hold. I didn't know how to be happy when my relatives are over there fighting.

*changing topic* I always wanted to say this, but I really am grateful for where I am right now. Sometimes I get envious; but envious is a disease. When I look at others being happy, I stop to think, "That's not permanent happiness. They'll find other people. They'll leave and hurt and get hurt themselves." And I could have still be like that if I didn't find my way out of it. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad. I don't like fighting over it. Fighting brings out temper -- discussing doesn't. Even though the person who I want to have a discussion with the most is telling me to forget it. It's hurting, but it heals. Because that kind of pain heals and is never permanent. If you let it be, it might. Usually not.

And sometimes people give signals about my name. You may not realize it, but I'm sensitive about it. Since I own a very common name. Even with my father's name. But then it's okay, but I've come to terms with it, due to my name's meaning. I love this phrase.

"Setiap kamu adalah pemimpin, dan kamu akan dipertanggungjawabkan atas kepimpinan kamu."

I think I'm done. For now. I'll leave you with this.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012


That's Cloud Strife. If anyone doesn't know him already. Anyone a fan of the RPG Final Fantasy VII would know him. *shrugs* First thing that came into my mind from the title. I had wanted his figurine so badly.

The wind whistled through my ears, and I tried to settle back to sleep on the grassy field, which seemed to stretch forever. It was what I thought when I was younger; so it has been my favourite spot to hide and gather my thoughts.

The words stabbed back at my memory, "You've got nothing on you!" I shook my head as soon as I sat up, holding my head with my hand. I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. I knew I could do anything if I put my mind to it, how'd those words snipe so much at me? I starred onto the open field and left my fingers trailed on the grass, hoping I find something. Just something.

I looked up and the clouds were trailing, many shapes and sizes just seemed to race against each other. It made me chuckle slightly and put my mind into thinking mode. Suddenly I was on my knees, my fists down to the ground. I started to tremble heavily, every once of my body feared a power. Slowly, I mouthed, "... Allah... I need Your guidance... there is nothing I can do for myself...." The realization struck at me, slightly surprised me; I was sad. I was sobbing, trembling even further.... I had wanted to do this since so long.

The words, the threats, the mocks from those who despise me so badly, it really had tired me down. I calmed down a little but the tears kept pouring out and the voice in my head seemed to sound, "That's it... Let it all out to your God." I choked on my sobs, which forced them to slow down. I sat back to where I was, a hand to the side of my face. I tried to wipe them away, but the voice didn't let me and energy left my body completely. Sighing, I clutched into the soil, practically dragging my nails into it. I didn't mind. I needed to do what it takes to gather my thoughts and somehow find solitary with it.

The wind wheezed through again, signalling the end of my breakdown. It usually happens like that; maybe Allah knows that I needed to cry and talk to Him, that's why He brought me to a quiet place. I glanced up at the clouds again, they seemed to have stopped 'racing'. I reached out my hands, almost waving, but I kept them there. The scratches were still there along my arms where they had put it; they who bullied me constantly, and even though I acted cool as it happened, it stabbed at my heart. Everyday they'd stab at where it hurts, telling me to go away. I had stayed up a couple of nights, asking for His help, and days later, I found calamity in staying, despite the bullying. It had been physical (the scratches from broken window panels), emotional and psychological. They made everyone leave me, and I was forced to spent classes by myself. Everyone avoided me consequently due to fear they'd get bullied, too.

I didn't mind, however. The 'cats' made me realize that I owned nothing -- gave me peace and quiet (oddly) for me to think things out by myself. As they had pointed out, the scars from before meant I was insane even before I came. I took the remark positively -- moving foster homes hasn't been that easy on me and I was tested further with both of my parents (alive and remarried) not wanting me. My parents did visit, separately, sometimes together, literally throwing onto me things that meant very little to me. I kept them, however, in a special place within my gigantic wardrobe, provided by my parents.

Now I stayed with an aunt, who came home very late at night, being a doctor. She'd come in my room, drunk, telling me as she trailed her finger on my cheek, how unlucky I am, how sorry she felt for me, then proceeded with the stories of her patients, her surgeries. I learned a lot from those moments, because for a complex person, she could explain her surgeries in a very simple manner, the diseases, the remedies. Sometimes I'd leave a recorder by my bed stand in case I would fall asleep. Happened often, unfortunately, since I'm weak to her warm gestures.

I never talked to her, or anyone really, about my traumatic experience. I was actually scared of anyone touching me, minus Aunt Sally's petting my head late at night. The scars remained, grew, especially on my arms. Though, due to Aunt Sally's habit of getting drunk, we'd get in trouble with Child services. Sometimes I wish they'd leave me where I was most comfortable, instead of poking where it hurt. CS reminded me so much of my bullies. I attended a girls' school and the workers who visited the house were always women. It actually made me think that men don't work in such area -- I had never seen a man come around. Three foster homes, all of them I had to act out just to get back to my aunt. I had to. I was left with no choice. I prayed countless nights, looking for signs, just trying to hang on.

The drunk nights from Aunt Sally slowly stopped but she still came in before she crawled to bed, caressing me, telling me that I deserved more than this from her. Aunt Sally was very sad for me, sometimes I'd get up and hold her tightly, telling her that she's stronger, much stronger, than what she thought of herself. She didn't get drunk intentionally, I knew without her telling me, but when I begged her before she went to work to not come home drunk, she'd usually listen. The next year, I am to turn 18 and I would be the legal age and CS wouldn't have no business with me any longer, and I would be there for Aunt Sally.

The flashback went away and I was awaken by someone's arms wrapping themselves around me from the back. "Ainaa." The voice almost sighed as the person put her chin to my shoulder; I knew it was my aunt.

"Do you always go here?"

I searched around for a perfect answer, but instead just came up with, "I got lost. Are you skipping work?"

Aunt Sally chuckled and flashed her smile, which always took my breath away. "Saturday, silly." She should smile more often like that, I thought to myself. I turned around and gave her a long hug,

A thousand miles.

I don't know.
Maybe I should go away, maybe I should turn away?
I want to give you everything
But if only you'd take them
You wouldn't and I can't force you
You're messing with my head, you
Took my eyesight to a whole new perspective
And I saw what I couldn't before

What is it
That has gone so wrong with our ride?
I thought
We put our seatbelts on
I thought we paid for the insurance
Our passport, our IDs
What is it?
Tell me
Because you know I'll go back to the beginning
Just to fix what went wrong
So we could enjoy our ride again.

But it's not 'our' anymore
Now it's me by myself
Taking a grip on the wheel
I slammed my foot on the gas paddle
And it moved on, and on, and on...

Now I've left you. 

You want to say anything anymore
I left my cellphone on just so I could pick up your call
My bluetooth set on
My head turned off
My foot glued on the paddle
Just waiting for me to run out of gas.

If I don't,
Does that mean I've moved on 
from where I was?

Someone tell me where I am
I don't know who I am
I'm clear
I'm off
I've gone across the boundary, against my limits
Just to get there to you.

I just came up with this, with the thoughts of a rocket ship, the bordering Thailand and a friend that I feel is losing. Oh, and the song "Space bound".

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Deja vu?

I just want to say how grateful I am to be able to even want to say anything. Because for me especially, it is a gift. When I can't say words, even in writing, that would be bad.

Ever get a deja vu feeling? Is that hyphenated..? Deja-vu... there. Probably the latter.
Anyway, yeah, I would assume that everyone would get the feeling at some parts in their life. Today was one for me, I remembered one of my dreams; just flashed through my head. It's slightly upsetting, when I get flashes of images. It's almost as hard as remembering what you dreamt of the night before -- if you don't remember.
Most of the memory I have is like that.

Hmm... you know, I feel like the more I try to heal, the more wounds I see.
My friend argued the fact that I had a blog -- I just said that it's good to be able to go back posts and see how much I've grown, lessened, if I were to become a hypocrite and such, blogs are good for that reason.
It's like that. Because sometimes (maybe all the time) I can't be satisfied with what people say. Since they can lie to my face without me even noticing it. Not that it matters. Maybe it's for my own self-ego.

I think I like to jump topics, no?

Back to the healing process -- it scares me. Maybe what I'm trying to say is, I'm not sure how I want to see myself grown up. Because I'm passed the legal age, but I still can't run away from the house without the police tracking me down and bringing me back. That scares me, too. Not the police part, but the legal part.

How DO anyone want to grow up? Since we can't actually track EVERYTHING we do and make sure we turn out fine. Do we want to even turn out fine? I don't know if I wanted to or not. But I just feel it is scary. You know why? Because I'm my own biggest critic. Everyone is. Everything I do, I have to question myself; barely do I sit back and think about my own actions. Probably I should start doing that. Because when I see someone older than me acting in some sort of way, I fear of turning out that way. Not that I'm saying I'm criticising the person for how they are, I just want to be fine. You know.

Guess paranoia goes a long way.

One thing I love about literature? People can't judge you for the jumping topics, being unclear of what you are trying to say and just read and be like, "Don't know what she's talking about, but I just spent minutes reading nothing."

This has been a normal-deprived person. Thank you.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012


Okay, fine, I'm a little lazy to find an appropriate title.

First off, I just want to say here that I'm a little excited + scared + anxious + every other feelings combined about the upcoming semester. But I'm sure it'll all be just fine.

I had a revelation. You know. I don't even know what that means. Haha. But seriously, I've been thinking since one of my cousins got married. I thought.. "Okay, in a few years, everyone's going to get married EVENTUALLY... and then it'd be my turn... Gulp!" Scary. That's what marriage is to me. Plain scary. How do  you know that you're going to marry someone who's going to be there for you till the end of your life? I don't know. So don't ask me.

And ever since my 'change', I learned a lot of things.

One, people can say really negative things. Like, girls who wear longer hijabs can go around and do bad things themselves..... I took a moment to swallow that. What does that mean? It means some people can have a very negative outlook on something and sometimes you just can't buy them. Yet.

Two, before or after my change, my friends still say I'm quiet. Haven't I been quiet all these years? Maybe. To my room mates however, my 'quietness' may depend on many variables.

Y'know, the other day I was at Nilai 3 for my mother wanted to look at some fabrics, and I sat in the car with my father and little brother because I was a little fatigued. My sleeping patterns had been off for over a month then and I haven't quite yet fixed it, even now. And I saw something after closing my eyes for a few minutes; a woman and her daughter passing by, and they covered a portion of their face. (Gosh, I can't remember the name of that thing...)

There. But the girl was wearing glasses, so that's why I fell in love. I can see myself like that. The problem is, in the country, we are not encouraged to wear it. Why? I always wondered. What's so wrong about it? Even with a long hijab, I've had someone tell me, "You won't be in a workplace where everyone's going to wear like you do, you know that, right?" I took a deep breath then. I couldn't believe what I heard.

You know what's worst? I actually hesitated. I don't do hesitation very well. Because I've always done things because I know they are/were/will be the right thing to do. I thought to myself, "I should worry about work later on? How about the fact that Our Creator is not pleased with me now? Nobody is worried about that for me." I guess it's true what people tell me, "Satan is not going to sit still." I will say this right here and right now, go on Satan. Inject hesitation and doubt in myself -- because I believe in His guidance. He's not going to leave me by myself while I drown, and I admit it, I'm still choking violently. I feel suffocation every other day, and it's not nice, I tell you. But it's worth the suffocation. The mood swings, the pain I hold inside in order to find something better.

Sometimes I am happy. Yes, I CAN be happy, don't give me that look. *facepalm* I'm not always a grumpy old man, I can be happy and giddy. It just depends on the situation. Lately, I've found serenity and peace in a whole different feeling. It's really, really nice.

So in my change, people will go, some may stay. The ones who go, and think I'm changing, please see that I'm not changing. I can't be. It hasn't even been two months, how could I possibly change in such a short amount of time? That's ridiculous. Give me time, and I'll show you that I'm still the same person as I was before. But sometimes I think, I don't deserve time from anyone. How could I? Who am I? I'm only someone who lacks in every single way, but I believe in time, that I can find myself once more, and be content with myself once and for all. Please believe me. But if you don't believe me anyway, it won't sadden me. Because I believe in myself now, and that alone has kept me going for this long.

And it took me long to get here because I know society. I know what I'll get myself into. That's why I took so long -- I thought about changing for over two years, but I couldn't execute it until I'm convinced in which way I would like to change. Once I make up my mind, then I'm good to go. Because I'm that kind of person. It's hard for me to start, but once I know what I'm doing, it becomes hard for me to stop.

Look... I already forgot what I was going on about. Wha? Yes, I know.

I think... I don't want to say anyone is right, or wrong, in saying anything to me. You can say anything to me, because it's partly my job to interpret what you say into some way so that I can understand. And I'm not mad, nor disappointed. I'm just grateful that some people are willing to be honest about what they feel about what I'm 'doing' (would it be considered doing if it's connected to wearing?) I just feel that sometimes, it's because of things like this (saying less appropriate things to other people) that makes them not want to do what they originally wanted to do. We should respect each other's opinion, but please, say I'm wrong when I am. I didn't say that I don't want to hear that I'm wrong. I'm still learning, but don't judge too hard, because it is very, very, VERY confusing. Take it from me because I've been there back and forth. I've had self-dialogues and I had to think very hard, rationally, sometimes emotionally. But I'm aware that we're not supposed to follow our emotions, because we are granted something, called the mind, to help us think.


Life is like a subjective question apart from those that are clear of their objectiveness.-

Wednesday, May 2, 2012


I had a phone call yesterday, stating that I am to pick up my new glasses whenever I am free.
That kept me hanging on for hours.

As of yesterday, I FINALLY (yes!) finished typing out for my father. It was heart-wrenching and boring, for the most part, and I came to realize it is that of these tasks that I am equipped with the basics. So thank you, my father and mother~

I think I had only a post for April?
I was going to write more, and I've had ideas swimming in the back of my head, just tickling to get onto a soft copy. That didn't make sense, did it now?

Well, I question the fact that if I ever made sense throughout my existence.
Ever since I saw my Twilight Saga Books got torn up right in front of my eyes, and I had to contribute to some of it, my heart started beating unusually. I know, because one of the two things I do frequently on a daily basis is listen to my own heartbeat. Literally, and metaphorically.

It wasn't nice, but it was a relief of some sort. I can't give it up completely.
But thinking of the painful memories it brought -- I get caught in a twist between two distinct feelings.
Wanting to let go, and unable to let go.

This is to you.

She had felt something troubling her heart for quite a while, but she never seemed to pinpoint on what it is. And that day it finally came true. Anguish washed over her feature, she took his hand with hers as usual, and came aboard the bus. They sat in a position as always, and she could feel her heart doubled in terms of beating.

I guess you could say she had always been this way. Always paranoid, always overthinking. But one can only guess what would happen on that fateful day.
It wasn't that she didn't want him with her, it was the exact opposite. Wasn't the fact that she didn't want to be on the bus heading back to her home -- it was something else.

As they arrived at the bus terminal, a tear dropped down from her left eye. She didn't want it to be this way. She hadn't planned on getting this far. Whatever happened before -- it broke her completely. He seemed to know all of this, but he hadn't had the strength to stop himself. But why didn't he? A question that flashed through her head millions of times.

Everyone saw it, but they didn't want to be a part of it. The anguish grew, and with every line engraved under her eyes, they avoided her. She is sure to be a trouble, they whispered. With her head down, he didn't follow behind her as always. She kept going forward and forward, avoiding all glances as the glances avoided her. He fell on his knees and choked up blood. Feeling helpless, he passed out in the midst of a crowd, with her losing sight. It didn't help that she couldn't see. The anguish finally found its peak, and he cried loudly for her; trying to hold himself by hugging his knees tightly to his chest. One may wonder why no one helped him -- it was because he wasn't there. Not for real, that is.

The girl with soft blue eyes finally turned back, dropped all her belongings, and ran to the place where she had lost him in the first place. She knew this was going to happen -- but what did happen? He had died so many years ago, yet everytime she came to the same place, she sensed him. He was begging for her. No, she had begged him, but he gave no response. With bloodshot eyes, he pulled the trigger to his head right in front of her eyes on the fateful day. And that fateful day replayed itself like a broken record, taunting her. Why didn't she stop him? Because she couldn't. She wouldn't. Because stopping him would be like telling him to live with his and her misery for the rest of his sick life. And she couldn't have that even though she suffered the most damages.

Dropping to her knees, she held her hands to her head and cried bitterly, as loud as the sound drowned out with the crowd chattering away. It was like she wasn't even there, but was she?

Only she knew.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012


When I was small (not in size), I used to question a lot of things. Not that I grew out of it. I just stopped being so silly in questioning. But below the age of 13, I had a lot of questions that I wanted answers to.


"How people be so confident in one another that they decide to get married and live with each other?"

"Why do men like women? HOW do men know they're supposed to like women? What'd happen if women like women?"

Take note that I wasn't aware of homosexuality at the time, so I just didn't know. I wanted to ask, but there was a part of me, that settled in deep, deep inside of me that said, "Nobody's going to answer your questions." And I believed that part of me. So, I once had believed in me. The subjective me. The fact that I refer to myself in the third person doesn't really mean that's changed, it's just that I see myself better when seeing myself as another person other than myself. If I were to explain in details, it'd take ages.

Back to the topic, I liked using the word 'but'.

I'll give an example;

I didn't understand why I couldn't use silverware (if that's the right word? I'm meaning, forks, spoons, such and such...) using my left hand. I could obey to the fact that I'm supposed to eat when not using silverware using my right hand, because, well, for one, the left hand is correlated with the washing of, uhm, you know what.
And my Mathematics teacher, Ms Van Driesen (Ms. D, sorry I don't know the correct spelling of your name) told my class a tale of why the right angled triangle is called a right angled triangle instead of a left angled triangle. You know, the one with the 90 degree angle symbolized with the shape of a square at the corner of the triangle. Bah. Let me just get you the picture.

My teacher explained that in the old days, they believed the left-handers (and probably just about anything to do with with left) are not a good thing, so they named it right angled instead of left angled. And the fact that the triangle is always almost drawn with the square on the right side. Apart from me, of course, I sometimes did it on the left. I mirrored it just to spite it.
You know, I had bad experience with my being left-handed. My mother used to scold me for using my left hand to write, draw, such and such... But I stuck it out. Sometimes I praise, sometimes I don't. To be honest, most of the time I spite it. I spite my hand. Yeah, the truth is stranger than fiction indeed. Me spiting being scolded still ended up in me hating on something I've been believing in. The ground I thought was real. But it was. I'm beginning to think I'm going out of topic...

That's how it was.

I questioned it. I got mad. I got furious. I flipped. I thought it all nonsense. But it was because no one was willing to provide me with the answer that not I want, but the answer that I need to believe.

I told the following to my room mate, Dianah, and she simply said these words,

"I heard there are bad consequences of using the left hand while eating."

And right there, I considered it all. See. All it takes is a simple question atop my question. Though don't do it most of the time. I'd probably just get more rebellious than I already am.

The point is, when you're trying to feed someone information, you don't scold them. You don't hit them. You DON'T force them to inhale the information. You do it nicely. In such gesture than the person will be able to accept it.

I read this article upon which the Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him) himself was encountered by this matter, though probably not in the manner. If you get the difference.

A young man came to the Prophet Muhammad, Rasulullah and wanted to repent and leave everything except for the sin of zina. Here is the following link if you want to find out about it.

His statement received great criticism from the Sahaba' but Rasulullah is not one to judge the young man quickly. Instead of scolding him, the Prophet took the approach of conversing in a polite manner with the young man.

Rasulullah asked, "Would you like this to happen to your mother?"

The young man shook his head and said to Rasulullah, "By Allah's name, I do not wish so! Let Allah be my witness."

Rasulullah asked again, "Would you like this to happen to your daughter?"

Again the young man said the same thing. The Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him) proceeded with asking about his aunt, his nieces and his sisters, if the man wanted the same thing to happen to them. Still the man said the same thing.

Rasulullah took the young man by the hand and asked Allah to forgive his sins and to clean him from wrong doings. There, at the point, the young man finally repented for his sin of zina.

Firstly, I do not recall the story correctly, so do not believe my words one on one, but it is what I read and the story is true. Just the way of how the story is told I put in a different way, a way I think is suitable.

I leave the moral of the story for you to find out and to apply in your life.

Don't use anger to make someone else understand anything. It never works. Trust me.


Sunday, April 1, 2012


I find it funny that I forget my password EVERYTIME I want to get on my blog. And I mean everytime. Like I have to reset my password. I have done that for like, I don't know, more than my fingers can count and my brain can remember.

Okay. I'm going to remember this password.

Anyway, hello people. I read my last post (as always) and I was talking about my Grammar test. As of now, I am officially done with my finals since 28th of March and yesterday was my first day on my two months semester break. So I may or may not be posting frequently.

I'm trying to figure where I should start with my post. Yes, I haven't started yet. I think.

Ketegasan insan bergelar puteri @ wanita

"Wahai puteriku, demi Allah
Jangan engkau percaya terhadap kata-kata
Bahawa mereka memandangmu kerana
Bicara denganmu seperti SAHABAT
Dan apabila bercinta denganmu seperti teman akrab
Sebenarnya mereka BOHONG!!
Jika engkau mendengar sendiri bualan mereka
Pasti engkau takut & ngeri
Hanya ditanganmu pintu segala kebaikan
Bukan di tangan kaum lelaki"

~Ali Thantawi~

First thing's first, I've decided to be on hijrah to be a better me. Above's a song that's getting very addictive to me. Kudos to my room mate that gave me it. My hijrah is not going to be easy, I know; but it's never easy to do good, never hard to do bad.

I just want to say this right here, but my life in UiTM has changed the way I perceive the way I see and think about a lot of things. There are a lot of things that I actually don't that I want to know about. There are a lot of things that I would like to do a research on.

My story;

Yesterday I went out with my family to the Giaint Supermarket to buy some necessary things for the household and for us (my older brother, my sister and myself) to eat. And as I have been telling myself, I'm going to try to wear long hijab starting from home, from me going to markets and stuff, because I made up my mind about wanting to wear it for the next semester. It was nerve-wrecking at first trying to wear it but I went through it with the help of Allah. My sister said it suited me. My mother raised her eyebrow and my father didn't say anything at all about it. Which I had thought was weird, since he always have something to say. I took that from him. Sometimes that's bad. But as I have taken the first step, now it's just time for the rests of my steps to Allah Subhanahu Wa Taala.

Just hope that I keep istiqamah until..... Until, well, until forever. Keep me in your prayers please.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Strange to see that...

I'm posting through the university's lab. Haha. How long since my last post? I don't quite remember.

I shouldn't be here - well, I should, just not doing this. I was a few moments ago doing my account assignment which is now left at a table with nobody there. I don't know if anyone would want to steal my spectacles. Lol.

Well, I'm finally one semester! Woo! I'm excited upon finishing but my stomach doesn't feel so good. In fact, I don't quite remember the last time I ever felt good about anything on myself.

Earlier today I had a Grammar test.... which should've been less troublesome if the lecturer didn't come around to me, read my paper and said I did a mistake that was... small. To be honest, I was a little pissed off. But her intention was good, I know, but I was like, "I don't know what you're looking at! D:" Then in the end, she said I got my prepositions wrong and I was totally lost. Preposition, apart from my vocab, has always been my biggest flaw. I hate it. I don't know. Maybe I just went into too much of emotional trauma to feel good the next day. Oh well. Let's hope the next gets better. For instance, tomorrow is my induction and dinner day. Sounds a bit off, but who cares again?

Um... I miss home but I don't. It's strange. I just don't want to go back home, but I just really want to.

Well.... my sleepiness is growing by the second and it's almost time for me to go back to my room.