Anne was here

Since small, I had always been fascinated by good and honest writings. Though I tried to be a good writer, something inside me always tells me that I can’t. It’s just too hard. I could never be too honest and be completely open when I know people other than myself would read it. So, it’s no wonder that people’s biography always intrigued me. It’s the honesty in writing that always made me want to read more. And the most interesting of all is none other than  “Anne Frank: Diary of a young girl.”

I came to know about this book around 4-5 years ago. After watching “The Pianist”, a Nazi occupation movie in Poland, I did a small research on the net about other documentations of the war and Anne Frank’s diary came top in all my Google searches. Having read the raving review, I later persuaded my boyfriend who later became my husband to buy me a copy of the book from Kinokuniya in Kuala Lumpur.  We searched almost the entire book store and I must say, it is not a small bookshop at all. It is probably the biggest in South East Asia.  

It was almost 30 minutes before I finally held a copy of Anne Frank’s diary in my hands. It would be shorter if I just ask the store assistant, but it’s my habit to find it myself first before asking.. A habit that is not economical at all, I must admit. It felt surreal… holding other people’s diary in my hands, and kind of guilty too for wanting desperately to read it.

I finished reading it in three days. mainly because I still have to go to work and do on calls and stuff. Did I cry? Of course! I am a weeper. I will cry for anything. It’s just so sad and so compelling at the same time. Anne, never really get to finish her diary because her family was discovered hiding in the annexe after 2 years of hiding. But at least her dream of becoming an author that make changes in other people’s lives did come true. Isn’t it amazing how one person could still reach out to the world and touches so many lives even long after she is gone. The power of writing… Makes me determined to write more seriously from now on. [*wink]

So knowing my deep interest in Anne Frank’s diary, my husband, being the darling that he is… brought home a DVD of the same title amongst the many software books that he borrowed from Nedlands library. I watched it immediately.. cried so many times and straight away wrote this blog entry. I enjoyed the movie so much even though it is in black & white. The entire story took place in the small annexe, with no picturesque view, no clever computer generated images… just the simplicity and the honesty that were simply breathe taking.

The most memorable line in that motion picture was by Frets Pfeffer, “ This has been such a shock to me. I have always thought of myself as Dutch. I was born in Holland, my father was born in Holland, and  my grand father… and now after all these years you know….”   

Amazing… amazing how they managed to stay in hiding for 2 years yet able to do amazing things. And amazing how we could take ours for granted and do nothing with our lives every single day.

If this is the way we raise our children, then no wonder our children turn out bad

I am neither a mom nor a child psychologist. I am just a woman who think too much.  And I think, if this is the way we raise our children, then no wonder our children turn out bad. So stop whining, stop blaming the school, stop blaming the government and stop blaming the west, because the problem starts within us.

Define: BAD… you might ask. Well I am not talking about children who do not reach their “maximum academic potential”. BAD does not mean doing poorly at school. When I say BAD I mean children who lie, who cheat, who play truant, who talk back, who scream at their parents & who steal grocery monies from your purse. These children grow up to be liars, cheaters, do very bad at work, have no sense of responsibility, involve in corruptions, bribery, adultery etcetera and etcetera… I am sorry, but I think it all stems from us (well, not me as I am not a parent (yet)) and our severe lack of parental skills that resulted in their poor upbringing. 

 The false concept of “Let children be children”

I read in Wardina Safiyyah facebook fanpage, she quoted a Christian she knew . “Islam is a living religion but with dead followers… But Christian is a dead religion with living followers”

It’s a big statement, liked by 128 fellow Muslims. When you take a glimpse at the statement, many of us would agree on the difference between Islam & Christianity and the description of their followers. But this is a preposterous, ludicrous statement! I can not comment on Christianity as I am not one, but to me, the only Muslims that are dead are in GAZA, trying to defend their religion! Other than that, Muslims all around the world are more than alive, trying to send messages to the world but they are all (well, WE all are) being misinterpreted & unjustly discriminated by the media. 

So when a Christian says Islam is a living religion with dead followers?  Do we listen? NO! WE PROVE THEM WRONG!  Now, what does this have anything to do with the false concept of “Let children be children?”

Come on people, open up your eyes! For years and years, the supposedly expert Western or Western educated Child experts had been saying that we should let our children be children..But letting your children let loose, play the whole day, listen to mind numbingly stupid children songs, watch cartoons or hooked up to the play station 24/7 and encouraging role playing with Barbie kissing Ken, dressing and undressing the dolls, exposing them to pre-mature sexual education, what for? For the 20 years that we have been following these “advices”, had our children do any better as a person or as a Muslim?

Teach them early and teach them what counts

Moms & dads and all of you in between. Have we forgotten the memorable words of Prophet Muhammad S.A.W? “Go in quest of knowledge even to the distant China”. Have we forgotten that the much glorified western renaissance that brought about the advancement of today’s science and technology was originally STOLEN from Islamic knowledge and civilisation? 

When our babies were still in our wombs, we prayed that they’d be the next Avicenna, the next Abu Hurairah or the next Islamic leader. But from their first day of lives, we bombarded them with worldly materials and toys, we distract their pure minds with songs, lullabies, cartoon sand video games. Truth to be told, there is nothing to be proud of if they can sing Ba Ba Black sheep at the age of 2, when previous Islamic scholars have already memorized the whole Quran by age 3!

Teach our children early. And teach them what counts! The Quran & The Hadiths, of course. I am not saying that you should not be proud of your children when they can burp out the A,B,C from memory… but what is the point of learning A,B,C if they do not know Alif, Lam, Lam, Ha?

A father should know that one day his son will follow his example instead of his advice

Lead by example! Muslim parents, you and I both nkow that Islam is the way of life. Islam is the best way to live and to raise our children. But moms, do not show off your shoulder length crowning glory to other people if you want your daughter to not show theirs! Fathers, you treat your wife finely, as shown by Prophet Muhammad if you want your young mans to be gentlemen. You don’t lie, don’t cheat don’t drink and don’t steal if you don’t want them to do the same.

So I must say,  having a child actually means a total lifestyle turnover. We need to be respectable people before we could gain respects from our kids. These babies, they are not just for cuddles… They are huge responsibilities and that first responsibility is for us to be better Muslims.

Wallahualam.
Ana 

Small talks

There are certain things that I always find intriguing with the western culture.

1. Birthdays are a big deal, but funeral is not.

2. Men and women can mingle together without any boundaries and sex is just another human need that needs to be fulfilled, but nobody wants a child out of wedlock.

3. The more alcohol you serve in a party, the better hostess you are, but drinking and driving is highly frowned upon.

4. The more you speak your mind, the more confident you are assumed, regardless if you hurt other people’s feeling while you are at it.

5. You can say “Hey, how are ya?” but not mean it.

6. People who eat is considered a loser. People who drink alcohol (and loads of it), is considered sociable.

7. I won’t help you today, unless you will help me tomorrow.

8. you can call your superiors by their first name, but they might not even hear you.

9. People who wear super short skirts and showing off their cleavage are “slutty'”, but wearing a two piece bikini at the beach is “normal”.

Tantrums…ahakz.

As much as it is accustomed to see no one in the Anatomy building as the Uni closed it’s door to all things “work” on the 25th of December each year , I too customarily write a blog entry on this date to celebrate the NOTHINGNESS of this day. And I do not mean it in a nice way.

I distinctly remember 12 months ago, I was writing this blog, posting images of how wonderful it was to be able to work alone for a change for I am not a very people person… I can’t believe it that I am still doing it again this year.  I was promised that my hard work and dedication during the 2 weeks Christmas holiday last year would be benefited by a scientific paper. Excuse me, where is that paper now? if it was going to be delayed for a year, why was I “pressured” to finish it during Christmas holiday? The only holiday that I was allowed to have but was taken from me, for what?

So, wash it wong for me to be a wee bit “angwee” and twor a weetle baby tantwums  while I’m at it? hikhikhik

There was also the issue of me not going and not telling anyone that I was going to ditch the Christmas party.  I agree that I was excessively rude to not call anyone about my absence especially when so many preparations had been made so that the food (sushi) would be acceptable for me. Well I am truly sorry for that. I was inconsiderate to a large extent.

But the change of venue 72 hours before the party to a venue where there is completely no acceptable food for Muslims, the very Christian give giving ceremony, and the constant access to beer here and beer there, positively blackening and hardening my soul, sorry peeps, It’s not worth it anymore to try to pretend to be OK with it if I had to sacrifice my Islamic practice. NO WAY…

On top of that, the trauma from the last Christmas Party was still haunting me. I came home from the party feeling undeniably shameful. I felt ashamed and cheated. I really thought that the restaurant in Swan Valley was  very near to Swan Bell in Perth City (5 minutes drive from home) which was the reason why I agreed to join on the first place. I blamed it on my immature sense of direction. I should have Google mapped the location prior to saying yes to any invitation, but my internet knowledge at that time was poor. So I accidentally missed 2 prayer times. And what I thought was a short Christmas lunch turned out to be an all-day event.  Really, not in a million years would I have agreed if I knew that was going to happen. NOT IN A MILLION YEARS. {Regretful}

So there I was, explaining to the Big Boys the reason why I was acting “strangely”. I was torn between keeping my human to human relationship with them intact without sacrificing my established relationship with God. And whilst I triumphed at one, I failed miserably at the other.  But amidst all that, I am relieved that I was strong enough to make the right decision..which was to abandon the party and let Allah settle it for me.

And as usual, HE did. In a meeting that I arranged with the Bosses last Tuesday, “HE” helped me gather all my courage to FINALLY explain the truth about the struggle that I have been facing ever since I joined this group. Turned out, things are not as complicated as it seemed and all is fine now. of course at the end of the day I came out looking like a REBEL. But I don’t mind that because that is who I am after all. What I love the most is, I NEVER had to cater for lab meetings anymore.. a great burden lifted. {Bliss… =^.^=}

Even though I am still working over the holiday again this year, I do not mind because this time it is for ME. It’s my study, it’s my baby. I am willing to do anything for it.

Till then,

Ana.

Betrayal

 

And it could never be anymore correct than this.

“Minimize contact,” I told myself. Minimize contact with her if you’d want to survive this despair. And so I did. Have you ever wondered how it feels to get her name mentioned in my presence? I can not even describe it. All that I can remember was urging to cry ever so desperately… 

I was reminded by a friend that perhaps excessive sadness over something “so trivial” is likely to be the work of evil. But, my lovelies, define “trivial” for me please… If only you knew what she did, you wouldn’t have forgiven her so easily. But I clearly have.

Forgiving is easy. Especially after I rationalize with myself that perhaps she had her own problem, and that she just “had to step on her friends” in order to survive (advance forward?).  But forgetting, my friend, is harder. You have to experience it to understand it.

I talked to mom about her and in her own words she thought what this person did to me was wicked.She also reminded me to be an adult about it and not to“discontinue” friendship with this person. Come the right time,  mom wants me to tell her adult to adult, woman to woman that “Did she really think that I wouldn’t find out? Did she really think that Allah would leave me in the darkness forever?”

I don’t discuss about my sadness with anyone. But this disappointment is slowly building up to a depression. I don’t want that for myself, so here I am ventilating it all out on a piece of blog hoping that the burden is eased, the heartbreak gets mended and the despairs are gradually relieved. All I wish is that I can go through another day without having to feel sorry for myself after what she had done to me. It is obviously not easy, but I am hopeful that Allah will help me and guide me all the way through. 

I am not the kind of person who would seek revenge and I am grateful to Allah for that. But I am also not a person who could easily put a trust on people. It breaks my heart so severely when my trust was betrayed so casually. Betrayal… Oh, the feeling.

~Oh Allah, defend me from my friends because from my enemies, I can defend myself~

Da,

Ana

 

Committed.

I heard it for the first time not from books that i read. Not from the dictionary and neither from the TV. But from a lecturer, My English  matriculation lecturer. we were struggling doing our mock English oral examination for MUET. It was the most dreadful University English Test ever to most Malay speaking Malaysians because this test involves actual speaking/discussing to one another. There were 4 of us in a group and Miss Norimah was observing us for the entire 10 minutes. topics were given at the start of the test and we all must talk about the given topics in that 10 minutes time. missing a topic means a severe deduction in points.

I figured, to maximize the group points, someone will need to steer the discussion to a certain direction so that all topics are covered. And I naturally took the lead after seeing for the first 1 minute that my 3 other group members were having difficulty to organize what to talk. the discussion went ok, I think. not marvellous, just OK. but Miss Norimah also told me that I was very committed. A blah word at that time because I really didn’t know what it means in relation to the ten-minute-group-discussion that we just had.

Looking at my confusion, she explained. “I said, you were very committed at controlling the group so that everyone gets their chance to talk and get a point,”  

I looked at her, feeling more confused. “But Miss, of course I’d do that, if not we’d lose points.”

She smiled and explained again, “Well, most people are for themselves. they’d just talk uninterruptedly for ten minutes and steal all the points, leaving the others scoring a zero. Well done! You can go back to your place.”

Committed.

i heard it so many times after that. probably a very common description people said about me.

I am never a funny person, never the person people would ask to go out having a laugh with, never the person you see as the heart of the party. I am just committed…

So, no matter how hard it will be, facing the person that broke my heart on weekly basis, I will be committed to my PhD support group from now on. Especially after looking at Suhaili and Kak Faizah cried last Friday (it was probably the first time I saw them cry, ever!). Pity them, no doubt personal problems are creeping into their professional lives too. they must hate it when that happened, as do I.

I feel sorry for them. I was selfish. but now I am… committed. =)

Sometimes, the right (best) thing to do is to let go.

I have been engaging my self with bucket loads of thinking lately. With a lot of thinking comes very little literature reading and writing and that really annoy me. nothing annoys me more than a personal problem that creeps itself into my professional life. Utterly unacceptable. But, I am only human. sometimes, my less than perfect human brain could only handle one world problem at a time.

I love my PhD support group because it helps to keep me on track with my PhD, being with fellow Muslim Malaysian keeps me more grounded, and just the idea of regular meetings with friends makes the week feels more bearable. Not that my every week as a PhD student had been awful, everyday is awesome in room 2.3.6, but it gets “awesomer” if there is a PhD support group at the end of each week. It is difficult to understand why I like such meetings so much, but I do..I really do.

Loving it does not make it any easier. not one bit. (swallowed some sadness…) But after careful thinking, for our own benefits (or perhaps just mine… ), I made the decision to withdraw from the group. Although it is not possible to expect a reaction (I thank MJ for this lovely quote), I kind of already knew how I would react to being in the same group with this person who shattered my heart to pieces. I don’t hate her, I am obviously not angry at her. I am just E x t r e m e l y (with a capital “E”) disappointed. Upon mentioning her name, I feel like crying. So how functional will I be, really in a PhD support group if me, the “leader” wants to cry all the time? 

No one could imagine how devastating it is for me. but then, you can argue that Intan is just too carried away with her emotions. But have you seen me cry? no one has. Have you seen me talking about it to everyone all the time? hardly. But I should tell you dear unexisting readers, that I have cried so many many times over this.

In ANHB bathroom, check.

In my bathroom, check.

In the animal house, check.

In ANHB memorial garden, check.

and not to forget, silently in my heart all the time, check.

now, check.

Crying obviously does not make anything any better. but in my defence it helps me to make an informed choice. the choices are, (one) whether I could be the bigger person, to forgive and forget and to move on with my life, pretending as though nothing ever happened.. or (two) mend my heartbreak, by minimizing contact, increase focus on my research and channel my constant desire to do good to someone else. Someone who would not break my heart. or have less possibility to do so, like the orphans in Somalia, or hungry people of Cambodia etc, etc.

I don’t discuss my feelings to people. because mom said, “Who would like to hear stories about your petty feelings?” She was right. She always is. (suddenly another warm tears bud at the corner of my lateral canthuses). I always believe that by crying you take some of the emotional burden off. but it doesn’t seem to happen for me yet. May be that’s why choosing option two is the right (best) thing to do.

May Allah give me strength to go through all these.

I try to be a good person, but may be I am just not good enough.

I try to be a strong person, but this time I am just not strong enough.

till then,

ANA

major changes

me, writing my blog everyday is not a good sign. it literally screams emotional instability. but since this is the place where ideas and emotions interact.. then I assume, it is not an offense to write as much as I want as long as my thesis is not neglected.
yesterday I had a meeting with my supervisor. MJ said talking to him, even a casual chat… can change your whole life (PhD wise) 360 degrees around. And she was abso-freaking-lutely right. now that my big programming study is underway, lacking the very important aspect of novelty in it, he suggested that “why don’t we do a circadian analysis as well? I heard something about it in some conference I went to sometimes ago.”
and I nodded yes like my neck was made of BedShed mattress’s spring. Yes, of course it is going to complicate things…especially with the 4 collection time points. (and somehow I sensed an aura of extreme dread in the air coming from the people around me in an instant)… but it made my PhD much more MEANINGFUL. I am not just another student replicating the Seckle group’s experimental model. I actually have something novel to present to the world now. AND THAT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME.
so other than the fact that someone broke my heart and I am making all excuses to minimize contact with this person, I actually have a STRONG, LEGITIMATE reason to withdraw myself from group activities that involve her. SWEET. It all works out to my favour. yeay for Intan!
shouldn’t I be a bit more secretive about this person’s identity? Nah… the entire population in room 2.3.6 knows about it. I bet with clever guessing you’ll know who she is very2 soon.
No one is an island. every so often you’ll need friends and support from people who cares for you. But back stabbers are really not in my list of good friends. everyone else are, everyone else in my previous PhD support group are…except one. but I can’t bear to see her face again that’s why i need to withdraw myself from the group. You wouldn’t want me to be in that group anyway because I can only mask this overbearing disappointment for a couple of meetings may be..and  pretty soon I might break down and who knows what I’d do. slap someone on the face perhaps.. now, that would be very2 nice indeed. =). tempting…
So life resumes as it should. all careful break-up plans are also underway. MISCHIEVIOUS..I know.
In the midst of all these, I realize that despite extreme loathing to her actions towards me, there is no way that I would go that low to her levels to get back at her. no point, really. In fact, I don’t even care to sit down and explain to her. too tired for that. most people say that me not telling is the reason why they do not know how I feel. they may not do it if they knew I will be so upset about it. but I am not good at discussing because, I can not control my hands. sometimes they tend to slap people very fast.
da,
ANA

Sometimes, you have to swallow the medicine even if it is bitter. But at all times, never swallow a poison even if it is sweet and coated with chocolate. That is just good sense.

Sometimes, you have to swallow the medicine even if it is bitter. But at all times, never swallow a poison even if it is sweet and coated with chocolate. That is just good sense.

Even a war strickened country can bounce back on its feet, therefore, so do I. So do I. Today is Tuesday. My feeling is generally a bit upset from finding out that there was a big samurai knife being plunged at my back... Cordially being put there by a good old girlfriend. Owh the feeling. Nothing compares.

Presently, i tried my best to deviate away from talking, discussing or thinking about it. But meh.. Who am i kidding? I kept on thinking about it and in fact had already made some life changing decisions with regards to the matter in question.

Agree to complicate my research with circadian analysis, check.
Withdraw myself from phd support group, check.
Pretend that i am ok, check.
Cry my heart out at night, erm..check.

So let me check that cry my heart out box tonight. I'm off to take a slumber. Hopefully tomorrow i will wake up feeling refreshed and unaffected by this megaextreme dissappointment.

Da!
Ana


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Please, I don’t want to see you again…

I have just turned 28 few days ago. the birthday celebration was lovely. We (Suhaili, Hubby & Me) went to Takaza for dinner. We ordered a massive amount of food. we were too full by the end of the meal, I barely ate my spaghetti carbonara… to make way for the heavenly chocolate lava. But at least I felt less guilty for the wasted food coz hubby helped me finished all the bacon (halaal bacon, of course).

So I am officially 28 now. An adult, married and matured. At this age I expect that I would see less and less of opportunists, back stabbers and pure evil hearted people because those are all immature, childish personalities. But at 28, I never thought that I could still be so naive. those characteristics does not mature with age, if ever, they only got worst. Enough said, only one day after turning 28 I met with the very person that should really, for the lack of better word; rot in hell.

what did he do? you might ask.. he? no, it’s a she. She lied (well who doesn’t), but she lied when it is against her belief to lie. She manipulated me when it is against her belief to manipulate. She took advantage of me who happily called my self her friend, when it is against her belief to take advantage on people. And most of all, she betrayed me. not once, but twice. how could I still befriends with this person, I am still puzzled. may be, I do have a soft spot for her. but, now that I know what kind of person, this girl is. I should really start avoiding her.

Because surprisingly, I am not angry at all.

If anything, I am extremely disappointed.

In fact, I am really devastated.

You would think that people whom you helped would remember your kindness.Nah… they just don’t. well, I am not generalizing. But this one particular person, just don’t. so I have only one thing left to say. Please, I don’t want to see you anymore. you know who you are, and I bet you also know what you did. till then,

May Allah guide both you and me to be better persons… in our own separate ways. I know I will find a way to forgive you, but not now while I am still so heartbroken.

P/S: Suhaili baked an awesome chocolate cake yesterday… in conjunction with my birthday, I presumed. It was the best birthday cake ever! should really get the recipe. love it so much.

-ANA-

~ Your blog is your unedited version of yourself. ~

~ Your blog is your unedited version of yourself. ~ Lorelle

Due to certain living circumstances, such as staying in a distant country, not in immediate contact with my besties and my sister, the highly expensive cost of calling back to Malaysia and the fact that emails hardly get immediate reply anymore, a very expressive person like me, who have a constant need to report the day back to someone else just so that I can get it out of my system and move on therefore, had to resort to blogging.

Forgive me if I am too direct in my blog. I usually am not. I just think that if i switch-on that editing freak that I am, firstly I will never get to publish anything until my entries are perfect, which none of them are. Secondly, it takes away the joy of blogging, which is to tell more about you, your life and your thingking process...

And thirdly, extensive editing...really? It is just tiring. Enough with having to edit my thesis and other people's written work, I just want to free write and enjoy the act of writing for once.

So yeah, in my blog I am honest. So pardon me if some of my writings made you feel judged or are sarcastic or is a slap on the face, because they are just letters, arranged into words and structured into sentences. For all you know, they might not be relevant at all. =^.^=

I use everyday things, everyday people, newspaper articles, and my own fascination to get that writing muscles working. You might already be in my blog, with different names or just your initials. Or you might be in here someday.

Till then,
Ana


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The best dream…

Imagine your best dream. Your favourite music is playing softly at the background.
You are wearing all white, with a long flowy skirt and an intricately embroidered veil.
A bouquet of fresh pink flowers kept neatly in place by a delicate white ribbon,
and that haute couture glittery shoes that make you feel like a real princess..
Seal that dream with the perfect princess cut solitaire diamond ring… and all your previous nightmare seemed to be washed away by this one very pretty dream.
Today I am going to share with you my best dream. Believe it or not, I had it last night.
In my dream, I was on my entrance to the Baitullah. There were a lot of people walking pass me, all in a hurry wanting to get to the first “saf”, the closest to the “kaabah”.  And in all of the confusion of how did I get there, the crowd behind me sort of pushing me forward and soon I was in the first saf.
I couldn’t remember the dream down to the finer details. but that is enough to keep me smiling all throughout the day today. when I woke up, I made a wish that someday, Allah will grant me my wish to go there. InsyaAllah, soon…ameen.