Feizha celebrated her birthday tonight. They had games, lucky draws, contests.
I didn't manage to win anything. Only Hafiz and Zein did. The most hilarious thing was, we waited and hoped our numbers be called out, and suddenly Zein shrieked. He rushed inside to collect his prize, so the rest of us eagerly watched as he unwrapped the package.
And he won for himself a.... a....ooh...it's a.....ss.. scarf! Buah-ha-ha-ha-ha! I'm laughing still.
Hafiz was luckier though. He got himself a pair of Caterpillar shoes..but they were way too small. Haha..well, they're lucky but not that lucky I guess.
But I had a nice time though, even Im was a bit distant and left early. I guess he's still a little affected by some things that had happened in the past week.
The most magical thing about these friends is that no matter how long we are apart, name it weeks, months, years, -just dump us at a corner and we'll still be yakking away as if we've never been away. I like this about them. That was exactly what happened a few hours ago.
I still remembered before Halimah left for Canada. Our first meeting with her was during the last Hari Raya, and we have not met her or Nezah in years. It was quite a while since Zein, Hafiz, me and Feizha met up. So we had a dinner at Feizha's place, and the moment all of us sat there, we all kept on talking and arguing about everything. Nezah kept telling us about her confusion about her hair colour, I kept complaining about getting broke. Hafiz kept going on about cars. Feizha was busy squeezing details of her uncle's wedding. We were all talking about different things, but somehow we managed to keep it going like a normal conversation. Halimah was particularly quiet throughout, but when she finished and about to head for the sink, she smiled quietly and went, "No one at this table has changed.." And we all knew she was right.
And same goes for today. The day I'll see them all together will be like a treat. And today was a treat. Part of me was even glad Imran had to leave earlier. Going home, Zein, Hafiz, Nezah and me sat in the car. It was way past midnight, the streets were deserted, we rolled down the windows to get rid of the durian stench in the car. As usual, if Zein's driving there'll be this tradition of making fun of his choice of music. Even though it wasn't at all bad sometimes, we always have to comment on it. He loved the Gypsy Kings, and on many occasions he'll have some traditional Arab music playing in the car..something that we always tease him about. This time, he made a great choice.. he had Sting's When We Dance playing, and I loved it.
It was a peaceful car ride..it just had an air of grown-up thingey about it. Simple, but intimate conversations, and occasionally a burst of laughter. But I enjoyed every second of it.
I love you guys. I look forward to more treats. Really I do.
thought out by marianah at 11:18 AM
Guys, go watch The Eye.
When the makers claimed it's the best horror movie of the year, they weren't merely claiming.
They know it is. You go watch it. Be the judge.
This one scares the shit out of me. Almost everything, -the players, the music, the sound, the visuals, the editing, the story, works. I thought it was scarier than The Ring and Dark Waters, but I felt the best thing about the show was that it balanced out the overwhelming horrors with having the fate of the characters be so heartbreakingly unfortunate that it'll leave you helpless in your seats. Upon discovering the ability to see the unusual, and after a really frightening encounter in the lift, she spent her days closing her eyes and locking herself up in the room with the violin. The sight pains you so much, right there and then I felt like digging out those donated eyeballs of hers and throw them away in the nearest bin.
And the climax is something you won't forget.
So, just go watch it.
thought out by marianah at 4:59 AM
Yesterday was bizzare.
I have not slept in 2 days except for a couple of quick winks, and I called Zein up to meet. I just needed to talk to someone, and I couldn't think of anyone but him.
So we met up, bought some panties, went for laksa. I guess I couldn't bear it any longer, and so when he asked what was it that bothered me I poured everything out trying to fight my tears back. We then left for Taka, sat down and as we clumsily tried to wrap the gift, I just went on non-stop about how I felt, what hurt me, what I wished for and what not. At the end of it, he said, "You have such a beautiful thing going on so why throw it all away because of some petty little tiffs that got big? You can make it smaller or even none at all. Do you love this boy? Do you still want to be with him? If you do, then fuck this whole thing and go tell him."
So, I called him up to meet. Zein was sweet enough to accompany me all the way to Bedok, practice with me on what to say, and when we reach the station, we sat down for a little more to talk. He gave me a hug, and told me what I'll do tonight will change a lot of things. I left.
When I reached his place, he smiled, but I know it wasn't right. Instead of sitting down to talk about it, he wanted to walk, and after a while I managed to ask him to sit. I made my confession short, but then it turned ugly. He got pissed, and the whole mad thing started all over again. After endless finger-pointing and snapping, I stormed off.
He ran after me, and yes, we started squabbling again...all the way back to my place. I still couldn't believe we did that. He sent me up to my floor, left and I slammed the door shut. The feeling...gee, I just can't describe.
I threw my keys aside, washed my feet, went to my parent's room to see my mum. I just had to see her. She was asleep. I went to the window quietly, and I saw him walking away at the carpark. After a little hesitation, I rushed and grabbed my keys and left the house.
I ran down the stairs and caught up with him a few blocks away. He was a bit stunned to see me, and at that moment, I just broke down. I knew it was not the anger, the frustration, the hurt, the dejections, but it was the desperation of wanting to make it all right again. I went beserk, repeating how sorry I was, and I guess it hit him. He pulled me aside in that state, hushing me up, and hugged me telling it was all okay. It is all going to be alright. We will be alright baby.
The way home again, I was sobbing uncontrollably and tears and sweat were gushing out of my face like a tap. He went, "No more tears now ok? Its all okay. See...even all the cats are looking at you cry. Shame shame, you know." He was making all this hush-hushing sounds and carrying me, and at that moment, I felt like a ten year old kid being brought home after being refused a box of Legos to take home with.
I didn't want to let go of it when I got to my door. I didn't even shower before I slept. All I could think about was how stupid this whole thing was. I fell asleep with my keys and my work clothes and unwashed hair.
And Zein, thank you so much, you were there, no matter how self-indulgent you could be. Maybe you're right. Maybe things have to be this way sometimes to be understood.
Yesterday was bizzare.
thought out by marianah at 10:10 PM
I read this one by the late Charles Bukowski last night..
CONFESSION
waiting for death
like a cat
that will jump on the
bed
I am so very sorry for
my wife
she will see this
stiff
white
body
shake it once, then
maybe
again
"Hank!"
Hank won't
answer.
it's not my death that
worries me, it's my wife
left with this
pile of
nothing.
I want to
let her know
though
that all the nights
sleeping
beside her
even the useless
arguments
were things
ever splendid
and the hard
words
I ever feared to
say
can now be
said:
I love
you.
thought out by marianah at 9:16 PM
As I silently lay in that moment of stagnant, but shrill silence, a deep immeasurable pain seized me like no other did. I sat up and looked at myself in the mirror. Who is that puffy-eyed girl in that reflection, who I came across as almost a stranger with the saddest appearance? Was that really me? Was that the crying baby whom my mum dearly and painfully raised all these years? Whose dad seemed to waste his days earning a living for? I cried hard as I looked at her again. I cried harder thinking why she looked like that.
Love never seems more distant to me now in that stillness. There was no passion in her eyes, and absolutely no love. Why, it seems that nothing ever is simple. Nothing. And I mean nothing. Not even saying sorry. Not even looking like this. Not even having puffy eyes.
Wait…maybe there was too much Love. Too great was the love that she could barely handle it. Too enormous is the passion that she did it all wrong. Maybe that is the mystery behind those eyes.
I turned away from her, and then lay silently back, and realized that the immeasurable pain was knowing there could be the two of us there.
thought out by marianah at 2:14 AM
My heart broke into a million pieces this morning.
I can't seem to find a word to describe it.
Something stabbed me so deep, and ripped a big emotional chunk out of me. It feels like immense pain, anger, and something I can't do anything about. I am so deep into this falling, I can't find my way back.
Bye.
thought out by marianah at 7:48 PM
I miss you my baby. I miss you.
I wanted to get you a miracle. And a godfather series you love so.
Maybe a pack of what reminds you of the jedi knights, and the myths of those who resides in Tatooine.
Or Vader's helmet we saw and laughed about.
I wanted to pack your things, our things, and fly far away from here. To a place where there's blue lagoons, and daisies that grow all year long.
Daisies that you'll put in my hair.
My Spiderman. My Obi-Wan. My Mcgregor.
I miss you so, I miss you so.
thought out by marianah at 10:48 PM
I found this in a site called 100 Words.
One hundred words divided by multiples of five, because one hundred words are an extravagant number. More than enough, I find, to say most anything.
Think about it: ‘I love you,’ done in three. ‘I’m afraid,’ takes only two. ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘I lied,’ ‘forgive me,’ ‘please.’ How hard is that?
Nearly everything can be said in three words or less. ‘I will,’ is only two. ‘Yes,’ just one. You see?
Twenty words are overspent where ten will do the work.
Ten do not compare to the single resistance of ‘no.’
Let me break it down.
It is not that hard.
thought out by marianah at 9:46 PM
Which Weezer Song are You?
This song always reminds me of the olds days of The Gragos, Minahs, and High Class Indians. Reminds me of how Ryan, Rina, Liza and me used to sing to this and El Scorcho.
thought out by marianah at 10:30 PM
My graduation ceremony will take place on Wednesday. And I have not even applied for leave yet.
Work is getting mundane, I don't have much to do. I miss those days when people throw things at me and making sure I meet deadlines. I guess I'm never satisfied when it comes to this. I'll whine if there's too much to do. I'll complain if I have none.
Something pissed me off yesterday, and I began to realise it has been happening for a while. It bugs me when others think that just because I have a job and I'm earning some cash means I can afford everything and anything in the world. For example, I had been donating to this organization by buying the charity tickets from kids at train stations, and I actually bought 2 on separate occasions. So some other kids approached me yet again, and people like ****** and ****** kept on insisting, "Ya, you should ask her, she's working. She has money!"
I mean, fuck you.
Just because I'm earning doesn't mean I can't be broke to the skin. It is so much harder supporting yourself than having your parents giving you monthly allowance when you were in school. You could always say, "Mum, I spend it all last week on this and that." And somehow, no matter how much nagging comes after that, you know they'll always give in to you.
But now it's different. You pay your own bills. You pay your own food. You pay for your own transportation. You're even expected to give some to your parents. And you know what, I for sure do not need people coming up to me sneering, "Oh, ask her some...she's earning...she has it." Believe me when I say that I don't.
I had dinner with a friend who wasn't working, and she kept teasing me about giving her a big treat. And quite honestly, I feel like slapping her hard. Although she might be teasing, but it was overbearing. She kept on insisting, "How can a person like you who earns 4 times more than your school pocket allowance, says that she has no money?" "What the hell did you spend the money on?"
You know what, it's none of your stinking business what I spent it on. This is my money.
I'm not trying to sound hard up of cash or anything like that. I am always willing to share as long as I have some to spare, and people who truly understand me knows that. About this donation thing, I made my contributions accordingly, and to hell with those who think otherwise.
I hate money.
thought out by marianah at 10:17 PM
Am I not pretty enough
Is my heart too broken
Do I cry too much
Am I too outspoken
Don’t I make you laugh
Should I try it harder
Why do you see right through me
I live, I breathe, I let it rain on me
I sleep, I wake, I try hard not to break
I crave, I love, I’ve waited long enough
I try as hard as I can
I laugh, I feel, I make believe it’s real
I fall, I freeze, I pray down on my knees
I hope, I stand, I take it like a man
I try as hard as I can Not Pretty Enough
I. just. downloaded. this. one. from. Kasey Chambers. A. bad. emo. trip. today.
Bye.
thought out by marianah at 8:46 AM