Stuck In A Moment You Can’t Get Out Of

... is to me one of the most beautiful U2 songs. I first listened to the song without knowing the title and when I found out the title, thought it was a tad too long. Long title or not, I enjoy the song anyway.


I find myself relating to the song a lot this week. Especially when I am stuck in seemingly endless meetings which last for hours on end so much so my eyes glaze over and my head starts throbbing by the end of each meeting. And as if that is not enough, I have been chosen as the unlucky one to coordinate responses for some input needed by another party urgently. And that usually means harping and following up until all input is received. Being stuck in meetings and stuck with an assignment I can’t get out of. Oh joy.

Is it any wonder then why my mind keeps wandering to the following lyrics?

You’ve got to get yourself together
You’ve got stuck in a moment and now you can’t get out of it
Don’t say that later will be better now you’re stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it

Still, I take comfort in the following lyrics of the same song:

And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if your way should falter
Along this stony pass

It’s just a moment
This time will pass

And yes, this nightmare of a week will soon come to pass.

Surely you have been stuck in those moments yourself too?

~~~~~~~~

I just found out that one of the two interns attached to our Department is an orphan. He is the elder of two siblings. And their grandmother who they were living with previously just passed away earlier in the month. Somehow this bit of information makes me sad. I feel sad because I never really talked to him or the other intern and I really should have made some effort in getting to know them (and today is their last day of internship here too). I feel sad because I am privileged and blessed to still have my parents’ love and yet sometimes I take this love (and them) for granted.

In a way, I’m glad for this discovery for I don’t want to be stuck in this taking-people-for-granted mode. So I took some time to talk to the chap earlier today and the Muslim staff in the department also agree to collect some money for him as sedekah.

I Know What I Did Last Midsummer Weekend

It was a weekend of marathons of sorts.

There was the marathon of house cleaning: sweeping, mopping and scrubbing... and oh, even laundering too.

Then there was the celluloid marathon of Ocean’s Thirteen and the Fantastic Four. In between, I was engaged in a marathon of window shopping and browsing and walking in and out of stores and enjoying the delights that the shopping mall with everything under the sun had to offer. Oh and by the way, my material dream of owning that Prada bag had ended. It was there in the morning but when I returned to get it later in the afternoon, it was already sold. Yes, it was the last piece available and no, Singapore doesn’t have it either. I felt a strange mixture of relief – at the prospect of saving all that money – and disappointment – of being denied the pleasure of owning the coveted bag.

And then there was the marathon of Smallville viewing. I only just finished season two with at least three more seasons to go. The loaned DVDs have been with me for simply ages. And in between, there was the marathon of National Geographic reading. No, there was no marathon bingeing though. Sometimes I can really eat like a champ; sometimes I just don’t have the appetite. I may have overdosed on Pringles but that was about it.

I was too lazy to get up for a morning walk on Sunday Morning but managed to drag myself out later in the evening and brisk walked to the nearest Giant supermarket to stock up on groceries.

And that was how my midsummer weekend was spent.

While You Were Sleeping

While you [OK, most of us] were sleeping soundly last night, or rather very early this morning, it rained. It poured ever so hard and heavily that it woke me up from my slumber. I stayed in bed, trying to get back to sleep while at the same time hearing out for any signs of thunders and praying there was none as I was too lazy to drag myself out of bed to pull the TV plug off the socket. And as I tried to get back to sleep, I was reminded of the torrential rain which hit the city just a fortnight before.

That 10 June heavy downpour started much earlier, after 7 pm. There were thunders and lightning and I was glad to be indoors reading my novel, glad to be dry and comfortable. Heavy rain means no Astro coverage hence I was oblivious to what was happening out there. Little did I know that the heavy rain had caused massive flood in downtown KL. I only found out about it the next morning.

I was in the flood-hit area of Masjid Jamek days after the flood and found to my dismay that the shopkeepers in the area were still picking up the pieces after the flood. For instance, the Kiosk store door was opened but I wasn’t sure if it was opened for business as it was dark inside the store [surely any power outage would have been restored by then]. I was rushing by but from what little I saw, the store workers were still trying to salvage and dry whatever goods they could save. Somehow that made me sad. I read too that many shop owners had to resort to having cheap sale for goods destroyed during the flood but I was very surprised indeed to discover that the sale was still going on towards the end of last week. Talk about a mega sale eh. My mate and I did browse a bit and I am happy to report that the clothes and textiles didn’t smell of mud or dampness.

So yes, when most of us are sleeping, lulled by the delicious cold feeling that the rain brings and the comfortable warmth of our beds, some city folks are simply unable to sleep and too worried to; some who got rudely awaken by rising water levels especially if they live in flood-prone areas; and yet others who have not only stirred but are scrambling to save their precious belongings. When we read about them in the papers the morning after, we gush and sympathise and normally forget all about it within an hour. And these kinds of misfortune that befall on others don’t keep us awake at night.

For the victims though, the memory will remain for much longer, some for a lifetime. Especially when one sees one’s whole income, property and possession float away/vanish/destroyed right before one’s eyes.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

An ideal dream – well, at least to me - would be to inherit a huge, generous inheritance like Prince William who not only celebrated his 25th birthday on the day of summer solstice but also became entitled to a part of the multi-million pound inheritance left by his late mother. Unfortunately though, I’m not Princess Wilhelmina, I come from a middle-class background and do not stand to inherit anything from any rich relative. Ouch, Reality Bites. But I’d rather have my parents around than an inheritance as that’d mean they are no longer with me.

Instead I dreamt of a celluloid date last night.

My current dreams are to own a bag I sighted in Prada last Sunday - I have since asked a mate if he could scout for it in Singapore now that the republic is having its 8-week long sale – and also to have a replacement for the Gucci pendant I lost on my last day in Beijing two years ago [‘cause we are living in a material world and I’m a Material Girl]. Speaking of the Chinese capital, that reminds me: a year ago on this very day, I was in Shanghai...

OK, wake up and get back to work already!

~~~~~~~~

I have always liked this line from the Shakespeare play of this post title [don’t ask why]:

If we shadows have offended
Think but this, and all is mended
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear
And this weak and idle theme
No more yielding but a dream
Gentles, do not reprehend
If you pardon, we will mend.

~~~~~~~~

Have a good midsummer weekend peeps!

Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

So sang Elton John [though I much prefer the cover version by Blue]. To be honest, it is difficult for me to ask for an apology because I have a huge ego. But I’ve learnt to say ‘I’m sorry’ simply because I can’t bear to continue being in disagreement [it makes me miserable too]; besides, my ego is not that inflated for me to consider I may be wrong somewhere somehow [if anything, all the life’s lessons gained from these disagreements leave me feeling more humbled].

Back at varsity, I was very close to someone. So close that I was surprised and dismayed when we had our first major disagreements and boy, did we argue. After some time, we decided to go to the kitchen to try to talk things over civilly but before long, I ended up shouting at him and he said his piece too. But you know what? It actually helped clear the misunderstanding between us and after that we got closer than ever before [not to say that there wasn’t a repeat of that shouting session, in fact there were quite a few more of that]. Maybe all that shouting helped clear our chests off things that we found disagreeable with each other. Thereupon, I believe in speaking my mind whenever I was hurt, displeased, felt let down etc by him and by others, and even when I didn’t think I was wrong I’d be the one to apologise first.

‘Cause I’ve learnt that it’s not beneath me to say I’m sorry. I also don’t want to look back in anger ‘cause I don’t want to be this bitter person later. Besides, I don’t believe in bottling things up. I prefer letting things off my chest; why let toxic emotions run through me anyway. And if I disagree with someone, it’s not due to personal reasons. Because we don’t always share the same view [oh how boring the world would be if we all think and feel alike!] and of course won’t see eye to eye on everything. Speak now or forever hold your piece.

So if I have been too confused and confusing and misunderstand something, I am deeply sorry [not for being confusing and confused, but for having misunderstood - for I should know what it is like to be misunderstood]. If I have been insensitive and hurt anyone, please accept my apologies too, for that was unintentional. If I have angered anyone because I was angry, I’m sorry too [we tend to say hurtful and stupid things when we are angry]. ‘Cause I’ve also learnt that friendship is a fragile thing and I’d rather swallow my pride than lose a friendship.

Well, what do you know, I find it easier to say I’m sorry now. And, yes, when I say it, I do mean it.

Whiz Kid

He did it again; he whizzed around the Indianapolis circuit and won the second straight win yesterday. Simply incredible. Amazingly unstoppable.

This rookie has created some history, just in his debut season of F1. After seven races, he finished all seven up on the podium.

You can say that Lewis Hamilton has fulfilled his American dream. Well done whiz kid!

Sex, Lies And Videotapes

... or rather sex lives [whether legally tied or not], lies [how does one differentiate between fact and fiction anyway?] and YouTubes of other bloggers. Well, OK, am not really going to dwell on them, just thought the title would catch readers’ attention [even though it may not increase readership, but I’m not interested in that anyway].

I have come across a few blogs in my short history as a blogger. Those I like, I re-visit again. Some are written in simple English, some in a mixture of English and Malay, and recently I came across a very good hilarious one in Malay. It doesn’t matter as long as I understand the language and the blogs are entertaining, humorous and intelligent. There are some that shocked me beyond words though, namely the lifestyles led by those Muslims proud to admit they are not living lives exemplary of Muslims and the curses and swear words too easily and readily hurled by others. [Maybe I’m not ‘modern’ in their sense of the word – though what little I know from religious studies is that debauchery is actually primitive and hardly modern - or maybe I’m just easily shocked.]

Oh, I’ll be the first to disclaim that I’m such a good person myself. I am capable of cursing like a sailor and swearing like a trooper myself but I try not to do it on my blog. And why should I. See, I want to be accountable for what I write and I think hard before I write. [I also want to cut down on swearing]. If every fifth sentence of my writing is punctuated with a curse or a swear word, that’d certainly make me sound like a sailor or worse. And besides, in real life, I don’t do that. [I cringed the whole time watching one of the earlier Quentin Tarantino movies, not knowing it was full of strong language not to mention violent]. ‘Cause if I start doing that in my blog, my few readers here will not only be shocked and appalled but would not have the stomach to go on. I know I wouldn’t want to read such a blog myself. Besides, when it comes to those blogs we frequent, how many of us inadvertently and inevitably form a mental picture of how the bloggers are like in person? Be honest: we tend to be judgemental about people. So why should I encourage you to form any misconceptions about me or get a wrong impression of me: as it is, I’m misunderstood already.

And no, I’m not that coy. But I’m not used to having people say derogatory things to my face either. There are words I find degrading, offensive, vulgar and crude to females they would probably make Captain Haddock himself blush [and the use of those words do not reflect well on the user either: it suggests the user as uncultured, uneducated and uncouth. So let’s hope the sexist stupid MPs don’t blog] and I’m surprised that there are females who admit to be such or accept such references. OK, maybe I am just easily shocked. Maybe I’m a prude, Miss Prim And Proper me after all, but that is how I am bred and raised. Once on a train in England, I asked the bloke next to me if I could have a look at the comic he had just finished reading. He hesitated before saying, ‘I don’t think you’d want to read it, love.’ It was then I had a look at the comic title: it was Viz. I didn’t applaud his taste in comics but at least he appreciated that I may find it offensive. But I digress.

Oh sure, blogging is a way for most people - well, for me at least –to be able to express themselves freely. But as another blogger (she’s a responsible one and writes beautifully) put it, ‘not everyone knows where to draw the line. Saying all that’s on your mind is not necessarily a good thing.’ She went on to add, ‘With freedom, comes responsibility – a responsibility not to misuse that freedom.’ In an earlier posting, she mentioned the following:

In my opinion, when you blog, you have a responsibility to yourself and also to your readers. You can write whatever you wish – that’s the whole point, anyway – but at the same time you need to be more sensitive to your readers’ feelings. In other words, go all-out and enjoy yourself, but try not to step on anyone’s toe while you’re at it. Criticisms and controversial opinions are best served in a civil manner where you’re least likely to hurt anyone’s feelings. It is possible to be expressive and inoffensive at the same time. Just like in real life, it’s how you say it that matters. When you blog, or write on any public medium, you are technically responsible for every single thing you put out there, so it’s best to blog responsibly.

Like I said, I’m not such a goody-goody person. But I am honest with my writings. I don’t fake myself. Just ‘cause I occasionally have my tongue slip in real life and swear doesn’t mean that I should similarly pepper my blog with bad language. I’d like to think that what you read of me is what you will get in real life – the real me. And that includes having my own views - like in this very posting.

There are blogs that I visit simply because the authors are good at expressing themselves clearly and eloquently. Their lives are as exciting or as mundane as mine but at least they help me improve on my English - and BM. It doesn’t mean I agree with the lifestyles they lead [I observed those who left comments sometimes get very harsh ‘thou shalt not criticise what I write/thou shalt not judge me’ kind of rebuke from the author and supporters].

There are authors who have airs, act and sound high and mighty and boastful, so much so I wonder if I have been guilty of that myself in mine. And then there are those that make me wonder if some authors have been truthful in their postings: somehow I get the impression and feeling that these people are living their fantasies on their blogs [one such person I suspect writes in good English though so I keep visiting until she had a blogger’s block last year]. Recently my good mate, Elle, complained to me of her now ex-housemate: how she pretended to be nice in front of Elle while in her blog, she called everyone else in the house ‘filthy inconsiderate people with no positives whatsoever’. Little did this obnoxious person know that the others know the existence of her blog! So there you go, people who seem nice on the surface may be talking behind your back in their blogs and people who seem nice on their blogs may hardly be that in person.

And there are also down-to-earth authors who blog about working with disadvantaged groups of people be they living in Cambodia or afflicted with AIDS. I sure respect these tireless people, fighting for a cause they believe in.

As for me, I just try to blog responsibly. Mild cursing is still acceptable, yeah? [Blame it on my good days in Blighty]. I have a duty to my few readers here and that is not to assault their vision with strong language. I shall not insult their intelligence and shall not subject them to strings of bad language [‘cause in real life, I don’t do that anyway]. My blog entries are a reflection of what I am, my deepest thoughts, fears and feelings, so I have the obligation to be kosher. In addition, I try not to talk about my workplace ‘cause I don’t want to be like that ex-flight attendant who got fired now, do I. I’m skint enough as it is.

Like my fellow blogger put it: ‘Consciously or not, we tend to exercise some sort of self-censorship – only allowing things that are not too damaging to come out of our mouths. So, why should it be any different with writing? ... It’s important to be aware of the implications of your words on others, because we do not live in sole existence - we share the air we breathe with others. Being opinionated while being sensitive towards others’ feelings at the same time is a tricky feat, yes, but it can be done.’

And Yet Another

I was happy and relieved to see MamaCat in the porch when I returned home on Friday with another box. I wasn’t pleased though to see the tough white male cat sitting in the box I brought home earlier but it quickly took off when I approached them. Had a quick look in the drain, yes, kitty was there. It didn’t strike me as strange then why MamaCat wasn’t in the drain with kitty. Oh well, as long as she didn’t relocate, that was fine.

After going in to get some papers to line the new box, I went out again and called out to MamaCat and kitty softly, ‘Baby, come here. I got you another box.’ I stood up to leave, to get MamaCat comfortable with the box before bringing kitty into it but decided to have another look at kitty. I looked and stared and peered even closely.

My friend - who gave me a lift home and was to accompany me when the filter guys come to fix the filters - came out and I gave a confused, questioning look and said shakily, ‘It doesn’t seem to be moving. It doesn’t seem to be breathing. Is it alive?’ He could not confirm so we decided to give it some time before we’d know for sure.

I went in feeling sad and unhappy. I wanted to hope but it didn’t look promising. Kitty didn’t look alive. But it couldn’t be dead so soon. It was only born some 8 days earlier. Then I wondered what if it was already dead when I left for work that morning? But how could it have died when I saw MamaCat feeding it just the evening before?

My friend reasoned that maybe MamaCat didn’t have enough milk for kitty. That made me feel worse because I didn’t feed MamaCat. Blogging about the late cat of way back when last Friday could have been a bad omen. I could have fed MamaCat but I didn’t. And maybe if I had, MamaCat may have been able to continue feeding kitty and kitty wouldn’t have died. Another cat death and I was again related to the death, directly or indirectly.

I was overtaken by a feeling of remorse, of guilt, of helplessness, of regret. I cried silent and not-so-silent tears. I felt like I had failed another cat, robbed it of a chance to live. I felt like a monster. Cruel, heartless monster. I had my friend to comfort and console me. But did MamaCat have anyone to comfort it?

The filter guy called around 7 pm, having lost his way. After unsuccessfully trying to get him to find his own way, we went to get him. I took another look into the drain to see if kitty was indeed dead or if by some miracle, was alive. And, and, and, I regretted it - it was a mistake. For kitty had somehow been turned the other way... with half of its lower body missing. It was a good thing it was getting dark and I couldn’t really see the gory bits in the faint light of dusk.

I wanted to throw up. I retched. I moaned and groaned. To have died is one thing but to have your dead body further savaged was a death no living creature should endure. My friend firmly told me to get a grip and we left to get the lost filter guy. I still couldn’t quite shake off the image of kitty and almost vomited in the car. And to think we could have prevented kitty’s body from being further savaged had we been more alert.

Later that evening, I got my friend to help me get rid of the kitty, for I was too weak to be able to stand the sight of it. I didn’t think I could be strong enough to give it a burial the next morning when I could see kitty clearly. While I could perhaps somehow summon the courage to bury it in the backyard the next morning, the neighbour’s rabbits may dig it up and I didn’t want that. Nothing more should hurt kitty. And while we could have buried it just by the roadside, digging up a hole at night would definitely arouse suspicion. People might think we were trying to bury a human body. And stray dogs may dig up the body anyway.

So we didn’t give it a proper burial. My friend wrapped kitty in papers and placed it gently in a box, and placed the box in the bigger filter box. We said our last prayers and paid it our last respect.

Who killed kitty? Did MamaCat bite it later because she was feeling hungry? Is it possible for a mother cat to savage its dead kitten? I don’t know but I have read people who resorted to cannibalism because of circumstances. And how could irresponsible human mothers be so heartless as to rid off their newborn babies just by dumping the poor innocents in wastebins when I felt bad enough for not having given kitty a proper burial?

Goodbye kitty. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a proper burial. Rest in peace. Join my other feline friends and please wait for me in heaven. Even if I may take some time to get there.

I spent the weekend mourning for kitty. It may sound silly to some of you, it was after all just a kitten, barely ten days old. But it was a life, nevertheless, taken away too soon. God knows best of course. Whoever said a cat has nine lives?

Just Another Sad Cat Story

Yesterday evening, around 7.15 pm, after spending time in the kitchen preparing dinner, I looked out and saw MamaCat outside the gate, licking herself before trotting off, I think, in search for food. I thought, ‘Poor baby, she has to hunt for food.’ After a while, I went out and had a look in the drain and there was only one kitten, white in colour! *Phew!* See, MamaCat is a dark tortoiseshell tabby; I couldn’t really tell if I had earlier seen a black kitten [if so, it’s dead now] or I was just imagining things. Based on past experiences and observations, I always think cats normally have more than one kitten.

This morning, I didn’t see MamaCat and thought they’ve vacated the drain but upon closer inspection, I saw little kitty [can’t think of name yet] - alone. Left micasa feeling worried. Did MamaCat return home last night? Had she been mauled by dogs...? Has she abandoned kitty? Gosh, I am really worried.

~~~~~~~~

I was playing outside in the garden with Akak one late afternoon. I was then three or four. Now, there is this monsoon drain and a pedestrian lane that separate our house and the next neighbour’s. We were running around when we saw a stray cat walking at the pedestrian lane; I remembered feeding it before with some fish crackers [that was when I learnt cats love, love, love fish crackers and oh most edible stuff actually. I thought they only love fish! OK, I was three or four then!].

Suddenly, two [or was it three?] dogs came out of nowhere. They barked at the cat and the cat quickly ran off. But it was not quick enough. Before we knew it, the dogs were circling the poor cat, snarling and growling viciously. The cat tried to make another daring escape but the dogs decided they wouldn’t be so nice and proceeded to attack the cat. They bit and spat and howled and growled.

All this while, Akak and I stood rooted, unsure of what to do. We didn’t dare throw stones at the dogs for they may very well abandon the cat and turn on us instead. At the time, there wasn’t any proper fence protecting our garden and the dogs could just easily jump over the monsoon drain and attack us.

I couldn’t stand the sight anymore and ran inside. I can’t remember now if there were any adults in the house because I don’t remember either me or Akak telling anyone what was happening outside. Anyway, the racket was loud enough for the neighbours to hear and surely there was an adult somewhere who would know better what to do than two helpless little girls.

No one came though. The dogs finally decided they had enough fun mauling and hurting the poor car and left it.

I can still remember looking out and seeing the barely alive cat crawling into another smaller drain. The next day or so, Akak and I gathered our courage and went to look at the drain. The poor cat was no longer alive. It was dead, gone to heaven. And we didn’t do or manage to do anything to save it.

The incident still haunts me to this day. And there are nights when I couldn’t sleep thinking of it, yes after all these years. Thinking how I didn’t save the cat; how I failed to save it; how the poor cat fought ‘til its end. I’d blame myself for not doing anything. And I’d cry myself to sleep, asking God for forgiveness because I didn’t do anything to save the cat [gosh, I’m crying just typing this entry].

That incident obviously did quite some damage and left a scar to a three/four-year old witness, when after all this time, she still remembers the incident and still blames herself for her inability and failure to save another life.

God, please forgive me.

~~~~~~~~

Now can you see why I’m worried over MamaCat’s absence this morning?

When The Faith Is Weak

This is what my horoscope [I call it Horror Scope!] said when I read it this morning:

Today you’ll be asked to choose between feeding your mind and feeding your heart - try to go for the option that feeds your mind. In the long run, you’ll gain more from a learning experience than you would from having a laugh, enjoying a flirtatious conversation or relaxing with a friend. Don’t look for instant gratification today - and realise that once you’ve fed your mind, you’ll be much more able to enjoy what feeds your heart.

As a Muslim, I don’t believe in horoscope. But I do take good advice.

Today, I’ve been doing exactly that: feeding my mind with intellectually stimulating stuff and mentally challenging thinking.

And now let me share with you a mentally stimulating posting by a senior of my alma mater [I’ve used her posting title as the title of this entry]:

~~~~~~~~

A person’s mind and thoughts can travel the world until there is nothing left to explore. There are no boundaries to where the mind can go, which is why that there are so many fields of knowledge and experiences that people can achieve.

The knowledge of human beings spans the highest mountains to the deepest oceans. Mankind has explored everything: deserts, wastelands, the heart of the planet, all rivers large and small, even the intricacies of the human brain.

On its journey of discovery, the human mind has wandered all four corners of the globe. The mind has roamed and explored the deepest jungles, learning about the creatures that inhabit it and other natural treasures. All the resources of the world have been explored by their minds.

The world seems to have shrunk under the scrutiny of those who study every aspect of it. There is nothing that people have not seen and analysed. All the secrets of the world are out in the open.

That is how great the human mind is in exploring every corner of the world. And this has yet to consider the additional exploring that can be done when the physical body can travel along with the mind, enabling closer study and the reveal of more secrets of God’s world.

It is with the power of the human intellect that the planet’s secrets are revealed, as though the human brain is a bird, soaring over the world freely. The world is akin to an open book, with its contents visible to anyone to read. If that is the state of the human brain, it is free to roam the world at will. This is the extraordinary ability of the human mind as created by Allah Taala the Most Powerful.

Still, although the ability of the human mind seems to be without boundaries, at the same time the human soul is becoming narrower and more restricted because the faith (iman) is weak when the person is not with God. Their lives are difficult and tormented without God, as though they are in living in a darkened cell. At these times even the brain with all its abilities cannot help them. It, too, will be trapped in the darkness. All thoughts and knowledge will be powerless.

Where is the proof? There is a great deal of evidence; we need only to look around at the world we live in today. For example, whenever times are difficult, such as being hit, being lectured by the spouse, bankruptcy, losing a job, falling ill, having broken bones, being caught and put in jail, and so on so forth, masya-Allah, the soul feels trapped and screaming for help, because the faith is weak or lacking altogether. The soul suffers. The wide world feels small and confined, and the body feels like it has been buried alive. The mind that was previously free and independent, rich in knowledge and flying all over the world cannot help. Thoughts run wild. Feelings go haywire, principles are abandoned, confidence is lost.

It is only then that we understand, if only the mind has strength but the soul is weak, then in the end the mind will also be affected and lose its usefulness, affecting everything else in the person. Their characteristics, habits, morals and behaviour will change. In fact, the only things that won’t change are their name and the colour of their skin. But all that is within them will change completely. Those around them would be shocked speechless to see the changes that come through.

That is what happens when the soul is weak and lacking in faith. The person will feel trapped whenever hardships occur. They are akin to a bird trapped in a cage, rattling and pecking and wrestling the bars in a futile attempt to free themselves, driven by madness and desperation.

This is why in Islam, everyone is commanded not only are they to strengthen their minds, it is more important to strengthen their souls. The soul is to be strengthened with faith and the traits of taqwa, so that when they are tested, the soul will not suffer in agony. All their confidence and principles in their religion would not sway. Their mind will continue to function properly because the soul is stable and unaffected.

Thus, let us not say that our soul is trapped by worldly problems. Let us not confine out soul in the torment of the nafs that naturally do no want our souls to be free and independent. Let us not let our soul suffer from the hardships that come our way. We should let our souls free to explore not only the four corners of this world, but also the malakut world (after death), spiritual world and ukhrawiah world so that it is as free as it can possible be from all restrictions.

In addition, what is more important is that people constantly keep their spirits close to God. They should bring God with them wherever they go, and so they are never alone. Let us make God our spiritual friend. We should not turn our back on our opportunity to be close to God.

As said by Allah SWT:
Translated: ‘Those who remember Allâh (always, and in prayers) standing, sitting, and lying down on their sides, and think deeply about the creation of the heavens and the earth, (saying): "Our Lord! You have not created (all) this without purpose, glory to You! (Exalted be You above all that they associate with You as partners). Give us salvation from the torment of the Fire.”’ (Al-Imran: 191)

At this time the problems of the world will not longer affect them. Tests and disasters would not be able to trap them. The nafs would not be able to distract them. At this time the soul would no longer be threatened, and is instead strong, free and independent, while our principles and beliefs would no longer be jeopardised.

W.E.D.: 050607 - All Invited

The fifth day of June each year is designated as the World Environment Day (WED).

In its website, the Environment Agency [a leading public body for protecting and improving the environment in England and Wales] is challenging everyone to ask oneself:

- What is the number one thing that you are doing to help tackle climate change
- What one extra thing could you do to help tackle climate change
- What’s stopping you.

Whether it is turning off appliances right away, drying your washing outdoors, using reuseable bags or cycling to work [OK, OK, maybe taking the public transportation then], we can all do our little part.

What’s stopping you then? As the Native American saying goes: ‘We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.’ For a look at how the country fares, go here [this is the latest available report but I suspect the situation has deteriorated further rather than improved]. It doesn’t look promising.

So let’s all join hands to do our share.

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MamaCat is back! Saw her in the drain this morning as I was leaving for work. I was in a hurry though and didn’t have time to unlock the locks to get the box for her and kittens. [Don’t worry, am not about to turn this into a cat blog.]

For Love Or Money

I had a mission on Saturday as mentioned in my previous post – that of finding a birthday present for Abah. So after the usual chores, I headed back to HQ, but not before stopping at KLCC to carry out my mission. I also had to pick up the Prada purse I sent for repair and drop off another Gucci bag for repair [yes, 2007 has so far been a year of bag repairs] at KLCC. I got a clutch pouch at a bargain from Ferragamo and after Hunting High And Low for Abah’s gift, I managed to get him a pair of sandals - and a Samsonite backpack for myself! Hey but it was on offer! - at Isetan. As I suspected, there were thousands of people thronging KLCC when I left with mission accomplished.

Saturday purchases were all made for love... love for Abah and love for myself. At one point though, I was feeling faint and weak in the middle of KLCC. I was feeling similarly weak and exhausted all of a sudden on Friday evening too.I don’t know why I sometimes find myself feeling weak, exhausted and faint. I once felt so weak at boarding school on a Ramadan afternoon, I was seriously considering breaking fast there and then [I didn’t though as I somehow managed to survive the rest of the fasting hours]. Would appreciate any medical opinion and/or advice.

On Sunday Morning, my cousin-in-law called to inform that my uncle has been warded again. Apparently, ever since my aunt passed away in December, he has been feeling down and of late, been refusing to eat. After discussing, Mummy and Abah decided to visit him after our grocery trip and Abah’s birthday lunch meal.

However, heavy traffic on the MRR greeted our exit and Abah and Mummy decided to head home instead. Almost collided into a vehicle from the opposite direction which madly steered off its route and wrongfully, dangerously cut across our lane to enter the MRR - it did a blatantly illegal shortcut. Bloody selfish idiot! Abah managed an emergency brake just in time; we were shell-shocked but I had a quick thought to turn and thankfully there was no vehicle behind us or we would have been rammed into. Still in shock, we continued on our journey. I got down at the nearby shopping centre, hoping to find some novels.

I left the centre at almost 3, being poorer than ever. No, I didn’t manage to find any good novels. Instead, I signed up for a water filter. I have been planning to for the past year but it always seemed too darn expensive. Well, yesterday, I finally parted with (more of) my money.

Sunday mega purchase was definitely for the love of my health and well-being.

And now I must slog for the money – not for the love of it [though I would love to see my bank account balance grow] nor am I a slave to it – but because money is a motivation. And it helps to pay for future purchases of products and services to pamper myself and family. [Hmmm, not just worldy goods but investment for afterlife also requires money: think of donations, zakat payments and Umrah and Haj trips, to name a few.]

I know, I know. I am high-maintenance. But hey, as Shakespeare aptly put it: Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.

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MamaCat and kittens were nowhere to be seen on Friday evening. I did hear some faint mews and squeaks but could not, for the life of me, locate them. I hope they are doing alright. For someone who doesn’t want to be saddled with the responsibility, I sure care a lot for them. I am a softy, I am.

Gemini Babies

I was watering the lawn yesterday evening when I saw something in the drain at my porch. I saw a glimpse of a body and was groaning inwardly at the thought of having to remove a dead body - rodent or whatever. And it looked pretty big too. Then suddenly it moved and I almost screamed. Turned out there was a cat in there... one of the stray cats that rules the neighbourhood. I asked, ‘What are you doing there?’, peered into the drain and continued, ‘Oh my God, you gave birth in there!’, yes, in those exact words. As if it understood a word I said.


There were at least 2 kittens – how apt considering it is now Gemini! - though I didn’t get a closer look as I didn't want to scare them off. *Groan* Wonder if I now have to start taking care of them. I’m too lazy and don’t want to care for them ‘cause my previous favourite cats all died on me. While I Don’t Have The Heart not to feed the mother especially now that I know she’s just delivered, doing so may just make them stay and I’m not sure if I want that... ‘cause the next thing I know the cat family will take over and rule my residence. Arghhhh.....!!!!!! OK, that’s me being a drama queen again. But what should I do?! I managed to get an A4 box from the office this morning and will take it home later but now wonder if it is a tad too small for them.

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When I was schooling, we had cats staying in the house; well, normally only one cat was allowed this privilege at any one time but there were some occasions when there was a mother cat with her kittens indoors. [Nowadays we no longer have cats indoors; stray cats still come to visit though and don’t look like they’ll ever leave - ‘cause they get fed]. There were occasions when I’d argue with Akak on who got to sleep with our favourite cat. Yes, me and kitty shared a bed together and my furry bedmate would be curled up by my side or at my feet.

My first favourite cat died when I was in Standard Six. She had been unwell for a while but we didn’t suspect that she was dying. Until one day, when I got back from school and Mummy told me red-eyed that Tom had died. I cried and cried. I cried all the way to my Quran recital class and all the way through the class. I cried the rest of the day. Then Akak called home from boarding school and we told her and we all ended up crying again.

My second favourite cat, Monte, lived a long life, so much so I took for granted that he would be there always. He was a dumb but handsome cat, like how some girls/guys are gifted with looks/brawn but not with brains. I left for England for my first degree without saying goodbye to him ‘cause I figured he’d be around when I came back for summer. Like I said, I took it for granted that he’d always be there, that God will not take him away just yet, that we’d be reunited nine months later.

It was not to be and in February, just four months before I was due to come home for summer hols, Akak informed that Monte had died. I cried myself to sleep, regretting not having said goodbye properly to him before I left. I cried again the following weekend and ended up walking around campus the following days with puffy eyes.

After that I just vowed not to let a cat be close to me again. Because they left me and died and gone to heaven leaving me here. So now I make do with a stuffed big, fat orange cat by the name of Garfield and my other teddy bears.

Now do you see or understand why I don’t want to take care of any cat anymore?

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I sent text messages to my friends to ask whether I should feed the mother cat, henceforth to be referred to as MamaCat. One said I should feed MamaCat milk; another suggested I buy chicken bones for it. I don’t quite agree with feeding cats bones of whatever origin – chicken or fish. Mummy always wonders out aloud why people would feed bones to their pets when they themselves eat the good meaty, fleshy parts and over the years, this has naturally been drummed into me. At the same time, I’m reluctant to buy cat food as MamaCat may not eat it [some cats can be sooo fussy, just like humans!] and if she does, she may view it as an unspoken invitation to stay on. But surely as a stray cat, she’s used to hunting for her own food and I should let her just continue as before? Besides, feeding her may just mess with her diet. But like I said, I Don’t Have The Heart [sing it like James Ingram] to let MamaCat starve while feeding her kittens. There are some male cats around the neighbourhood [but of course, for how else could MamaCat get pregnant in the first place!] and I hope they won’t come near and eat the kittens up [some male cats do eat their young].

Dang it, I’m getting all worried and worked up over some stray cat who decides to deliver her kittens at micasa.

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It’s Abah’s birthday this Sunday. I haven’t bought him anything. Any suggestions? It must be something good, practical, looks expensive but doesn’t cost a bomb.

I can’t think of anything at the moment. Why do I always find it so difficult to buy presents for Abah? I’ve bought him shirts and long-sleeved tees, fragrances, Bally wallet and even a watch once. Most are stored away for wear at a much later time – so much so sometimes I’d all but forgotten about them. And as for fragrances, he much prefers his attar oil. Can you just believe that?!

If you have any good idea, please let me know before end of the day by putting your suggestions on the graffiti board. Because sometimes even a shopaholic doesn’t have a clue on gifts to buy for her dad.

Cheers.