Ramblings if you may

I don't have time to ask myself things anymore. I'm too busy feeling in the moment, and wondering if I could refeel this feeling over and over again whenever I want to, but I know I don't have the ability since my normal memory is short-span enough as it is. No telling how permanent my sensory memory is.

But sometimes I fall in philosophicality. Sometimes I read things that lead me to think about things and long for things and I curse myself to have feelings about things I should just ignore to sail through life without a hitch because, really, that's all I ask from myself and this short life.

It used to be enough, to stay at home. Listen to my parents. Being compliant and emotionally shut off, and just do everything my parents told me to. I can't remember when I grew out of feeling all of that is enough. When I started thinking up retorts to whatever my old folks said, and I know that's wrong. Made me want to do it more I guess? When I stopped caring enough about my siblings to actually teach them during homework, not give away free answers like feeding leftover bread to fish in the pond. I used to actually care about other things aside from myself.

Hm the internet changed me. It's so stupid how stupid this sounds and desperate I know I should be. I bet if papa read this he will scoff at me and say in a matter-of-fact manner, "Then stop doing it." I know I'm just complicating things, but I am such a boring person that having another layer to my very straightforward personality couldn't hurt, could it?

When I went to Jordan, I was expecting nothing extraordinary. I was expecting a life of studying and being focused on graduating like a boss, even pictured myself with a crown an sceptre in hand. Who am I kidding? What's life without challenges?

I had the best first year of university I could asked for. I learnt to have fun and wander around. I met people. I learnt to be an adult (a very very VERY irresponsible and stupid one).

There's Poccoyo. She's small, that's why I called her that. She's pretty, and doesn't lack in male attention. I just wish as her friend she would stop being a typical female and stop stalking people on facebook, freak out over every little thing, act like she knows her heart when Mr Boxer keeps insisting on being a disgusting gentleman and never leaves her side, and start focusing in freaking class. Of course sharing inside jokes through glances when we're in classes together and ducking down to snicker not so secretly is welcomed, cause hell if I don't love the attention, but her grades just do not look good. But I like that she's completely different from me. Very clean, very caring, very motherly. I like to watch her work because it's amusing. Hahaha I don't know I'm just really fond of the girl and her petite frame and how she always orders people around. I listen to her because, well, she got me wrapped around her finger.

Miss bishoujo is also someone very important in my life. I really like her face. And she's just so adorable. I like the fact that she is a very touchy-feely person, cause I don't keep my hands to myself either. Once I watched a Malay movie with her and I just really enjoyed the company of another audience that is just as vocal as I am. She's a dang good listener, a dang good friend and I would have given her my entire fortune. And she have mean cooking skills so there. No one can't not love her, she's just too freaking adorable.

I can't forget Ron. I called her Ronald Weasley because she's a riot. She's not even that loud really. She's just really, really, REALLY funny. She's hilarious, her brand of sarcastic humor is really endearing. Her realistic approach to everything is kinda adorable. I just can't help being amused at her every movement. I'm gonna die from embarrassment if any one of these people find this post. Mostly she keeps to herself, which is really cool. I like how straightforward she is, because can I say MI COMPADRE? One fact about Ron: She's never afraid to or ashamed to ask for her money back. If you borrow something from her, she will remind you. I just find that side of her highly amusing.

Then there's Robin. She intrigued me for a while. Nah, more like confused me. and I don't like being confused. I hate it when I don't think I know that person, I guess. She was hard to figure out, cause she seemed so vague. Bur the longer I know her, I found out that's just who she is. Our little group is a rowdy bunch, and she's always the one laughing at our jokes. And I really admire how she always get things done. Like, I don't even know she was on that? And the next thing I know, BOOM she's sending documents and meeting people and having to go somewhere to finish something. The fact that she has a cute face and is very tall also adds to the 'please-help-me-or-I'm-gonna-pout' vibe.

There's lotsa people that I love and have came to known when I was in Jordan but that's for now.

Writing this post made me realize how lucky I am to know good people and led me to believe I have been so far lucky.

Still up

It's not that I can't sleep;; the drowsiness is actually setting in quite smugly and my eyes are begging me to let them close;; but I have got an EXAM tomorrow.

EXAM!!!

So why the HELL am I still up at 2.00 in the morning;; watching random videos in Youtube?

I don't know why I'm not taking this seriously;; granted it's not a University exam and it's not going to affect my degree or anything really epic;; but I paid for these Tajweed classes!

Well not my money really;; but my parents' money.

Maybe that's the reason?

Or maybe I'm just plain lazy.

Accents

Assalamualaikum peepers and stalkers

Today I want to talk about accents.

To everyone who know me out there;; there’s a question that had been running inside my mind since yesterday::

Do I have a weird accent?

This all came about because yesterday Shu-san said to me that my Tajweed teacher said that I have a weird accent and asked her if  all of us are from the same districts.

Hahahaha so maybe you’ll be like;; “What the hell is she walking about?!”

So let me explain;; for us first-year Malaysian students in Irbid;; Jordan;; it’s mandatory for us to take a semester-long Arabic language course. Well;; for those who did not pass the test in the beginning of the first semester that determine whether or not we got a place in the Language Centre in the University;; WE have free time in the mornings. Because we had only paid for two subjects for our first year;; and those two are both after Zuhr.

Most of us decided to attend outside classes to better our grip at the Arabic language;; because it’s such a hard language to master;; even more so when we don’t really use it among ourselves. We only use it with Arabs;; since they are very proud of their language;; and most of them don’t really have good English.

Apart from extra classes for my Arabic;; I also take classes to  better my Tajweed. 

Now what is Tajweed?

 Tajweed is basically the right way to read Quran.

The lessons were so interesting! You know how most languages have different alphabets and different pronounciations? Well in Tajweed we learn how to pronounce the alphabets;; since most foreigners find it hard to do that in the right way. There are alphabets that comes out from your nose;; or your mouth;; and … It’s actually quite hard to explain.

I love my Tajweed teacher. She always seems to notice me and never fails to look at me at every few minutes when she is in the middle of explaining things to us. I feel like I want to do better because she was so … dedicated to teaching us!

Yesterday we went to a kinda book sale after class;; and that’s when she asked Shu-san that question.

Shu-san was curious and had told me that she asked our teacher what kind of accent she was talking about;; or rather;; which one?

Is my Malay accent weird?

Or I just sound funny when I attempt to speak Arabic?

To both questions my teacher –ooooooh I forgot to tell you guys her name-;; Miss Reem;; (she gave us her facebook name a awhile before and I haven’t sent a request to her yet.) said no.

I had been bloody curious since yesterday! Though not really to the point that I would ask her myself;; I’m afraid I would come across as disrespectful.

….Which doesn’t makes sense but for some reason it’s logic to me.

But why???????

Because since I was little my parents had been teasing me about my accent.

“Just hear her say ‘r’.”

“Oooooh even when she speaks Malay she sounds awkward.”

I used to be embarrassed;; I don’t know what I used to sound like;; but at some point I started trying to speak English in a Malaysian Accent;; but some people still say that I sound British.

Even when I used ‘dude’ instead of ‘mate’;; and saying ‘I can’t find my pants’ instead of ‘have you seen my trousers?’;; and I use ‘corridors’ not ‘hallways’.

Like that girl I met when I was in Form 3 and working for my aunt at a kinda booth in a shopping mall (hardly classified information;; I just can’t remember which one);; she’s a foreigner and doesn’t look like she can speak any coherent Malay;; so I asked her in English;; “Anything I can help you with?’

And we ended up chatting and she told me about her school and we have had lunch together and yadda yadda yadda. Then she told me matter-of-factly;; “You have a British accent you know that?”

I was surprised since I was adopting American terms at the time.

There’s also this guy in my Accounts class that isn’t my friend at all;; but kept giving me glances as if saying “I’ve talked to you once or twice NOW should be your turn to say something to ME”. It’s pretty embarrassing and made me feel flustered;; and I kept avoiding sitting anywhere near him because I don’t want to feel his eyes burning holes into the side of my head.

Anyway there was this one day that I sat behind him;; and he suddenly turned around in his seat and asked me;; “Why do you have a British accent?”

Did I say that he makes me feel flustered? Yes? I’m gonna tell you again that I was feeling REALLY embarrassed at the time;; I mean who is he to treat me as a friend and suddenly talking to me like we talk everyday when we bump in the hallways??

My answer came out all messed-up;; “Uhh because- that’s-“ Here I shrugged my shoulders “-how we were taught… in Malaysia” I don’t know why I was nodding at the time;; and I pretended to look elsewhere and just ignored him after.

He turned back to the front eventually;; after staring at me to a close one minute.

Now;; not just strangers notice that;; apparently my friends do too.

“I hate how when you’re talking in Malay you sound like you’re speaking in English.”

Not just my English accent;; mind.

My Malay accent too.

“What you said again?”

“Why did you say that like that?”

“I can hardly understand what you’re saying.”

Annnddddd my Arabic.

“I noticed the way you said this alphabet is different.”

“You don’t have to say it like that!”

=,=;

I mean I have a perfect set of teeth;; and my throat doesn’t have any kind of imperfections that stop me from pronouncing certain alphabets;; for example some people can’t pronounce ‘r’ and ‘s’ right;; but I can! Splendidly well;; just like normal people.

So why when I speak people will often stare at me like I’m some kind of alien? And afterwards will come the comment about my accent and what not.

Gehh…

Next time somebody ask me about my accent;; I’ll say “It’s called a Damia accent because I’m the only one that have this accent. Case closed.”

The end.

This certainly is nothing like a fairytale ending;; but I hope my conclusion satisfies your needs.

Thank you for reading folks!

Why Are The Teeth Falling Off One By One?

I don't know what's wrong with today but everybody forgot to lock their doors.

It's morning;; and for some reason I don't feel a bit sleepy and as wide awake as someone who had just drank tins of Redbull. I walked from the first floor to the second floor;; and wished that something epic will happen to me.

Like for some reason the stairs will lead me to a long unlit corridor lined with antique-framed pictures. Or it will lead me to one of the tippy tops of the KLCC tower.

Or even I will find a cat's dead body.

Just something.

Anything.

You might wonder where I am actually and why I am feeling so melancholy all of a sudden.

As usual;; I spent the night before at Sakan Yarmouk;; and found out that I don't like coming here anymore.

Is it because of boredom?

Or is it because of the lack of interaction between us?

As I lay down on the armrests of two sofas (because I'm tall haha) at Shu-san's house;; playing a game that requires me to connect all the colorful pipes to fill all the space in the square so that no grid was left out;; I thought of all the times we had spent together.

We used to cook together;; all of us shrieking and laughing and just being plain loud when the oil pops when a drop of water found it's way in there.

We used to message each other in the middle of a program talking about that JUST (Jordan University of Science and Technology) senior that's short but have the smoothest skin a guy can have.

We used to go to Balad (it's a place that is no different than Jalan TAR in Malaysia;; where you can buy nearly ANYTHING for cheap) together;; hopping on two taxis because we can't possibly squeeze eight people in one yellow cab can we??

We used to walk to Arabella Mall together;; singing Celine Dion's popular song for Titanic when the wind blasts around us.

We used to pester our mentors to go to Sakan Paradise (Or like the Arabs pronounce it;; Baradise) where we can swim and I can laugh at the others while their lips tremble as they flailed their arms and legs in under white styrofoam floats.

We USED to.

I had never felt this close knitted in a group before.

If I saw them this morning and something came up so I can't see them till this evening;; I would miss them. Honestly I feel like they are my sisters;; their names etched in my heart.

I never thought about forever.

I thought that forever is a written rule;; not a right.

I never thought that we could grow this far apart when we see each other every day;; and I find out that the reason I have been coming here everyday had changed.

Now it's not because I enjoyed their company anymore. It's more like I hope I will enjoy their company.

Our little group is more like units in a company now. Everyone have their own little cubicles separated by boring grey screens.

Now when I come here I don't feel like a log among many;; more like I'm an owner to a bowl full of pretty little gold fishes and I had just gone to the kitchen for a while and when I returned;; saw that the little gold fishes are gone;; but what remain are cute turtles swimming on the surface.

I felt left out and a stranger among a group of old friends. It's like I'm Harry Potter when he was sucked into Tom Riddle's diary:: a spectator;; more than that random person who can't even get a ticket into the stadium;; but less than the janitor even;; who get to participate and contribute even if in the smallest manner possible.

I feel as if no one notices me now.

Aloya-chan have that guy;; Goku Son (It's his facebook name by the way. For the life of me I have no intention whatsoever to know his real name) calling her every night.

Aira-chan have the most wonderful 'friendship' with Kimi;; someone from our BTN;; calling her a couple of times a day to talk about her other friend Muhsin;; who had been bugging her  about the reason she have been avoiding his calls. (More or less. It's a long and complicated story;; as it is usually when it involves guys and handphones.)

Hani-chan;; I have no real problems with her;; mainly because she's so honest that it's funny;; but she isn't the touchy feely type like I am. So I can't hug her without a reason.

Seha-chan;; I just don't talk with her enough;; and she's the type that have an annoyingly wide knowledge and loves to hear her own voice. Which is good;; but I can be a bad person somotimes.

Shu-san;; she likes to take whatever that's in my hand. Like this morning when we were having our sahur. Hani-chan passed a cup of tea to me (I was wondering where is the wrong in 'a glass of tea';; and figured that I should have used 'cup' instead of 'glass');; and I was staring into space when it was snatched from my hand and gulped down. I complained but she didn't relize that I meant it.

Syud-chan;; she likes to run away when we start talking about important things. She's rarely serious;; except when it involves safety or justice (she used to like the idea of being a Syariah lawyer).

And Am-chan... Is still the same. Still closer to the seniors than to us. Still got up right after she finished eating and just vanish;; not even pretending to ask if we need any help with the dishes. What stressed me out is she have the lightest bones (literally translated from a malay idiom;; 'ringan tulang';; which literally means 'light bones';; which basically mean that someone is very charitable in terms of giving a hand to somebody) when she are in the company of the said seniors. She would help with the dishes;; with the cooking...

And I sound mean.

Maybe I should just stop moaning and start realizing that I'm alone in this world.

I know that friendship needs effort;; any kind of relationship really;; but lately I feel like I'm the only one that cares.

I come here all the time. I used to not care;;but now I do since my presence is by large being ignored.

I have decided to stop coming here after class.

My heart had just jumped back in;; and I'm locking the door behind it and putting up the latch;; I'm sick of feeling vulnerable like this.

Assalamualaikum peepers and stalkers :B

Peepers And Stalkers

Assalamualaikum peepers and stalkers. O,O

Today our topic would be exactly that;; peepers and stalkers;; and a few other groups of creepies that interrupt public order and safety and intrude other people’s comfort  zone so nonchalantly.

I can’t believe I will actually write a post about this group of humans!

In Malaysia;; I live in a community where the security is not exactly top-notch;; since we did experience some break-ins and car thefts;; but at least we don’t have to worry about our kids being sexually-harassed in any way.

Okayyy;; I sound like a makcik that’s over thirty. And no;; I am NOT thirty because I still haven’t reach the age of twenty yet.

We have guards on every street and we have that thing that goes up and down automatically -I don’t know what’s it called someone PLEASE tell me what it is-at the beginning of every street. It doesn’t make sense when the thieves can still steal cars and the break-in-ers still can do their jobs so amazingly well;;  but that’s a topic for another day;; for now I will tell you a mash-up of my and my friends experiences from the department of real life horror stories.

Whenever I am somewhere;; if I’m going to spend the night or had spent a night or nights there before;; I will call that place;; my home.

Regardless if it’s only a hotel that I would be in for only a couple of days;; my relatives’ house to my family tree and my ancestors;; I will refer to that place as home that I went to for Eidul Fitr or just for some random visit;; or even somewhere else entirely unrelated if I am ever going back there.

For example;; I’m in Terengganu for a random out of the blue vacation (with my family that happens so often that I don’t really care to make plans after getting back from kampung anymore) and am at a random local run off the mill konbini store (did you know the Japanese actually call convenience stores;; for example;;  7-Eleven;;  that? I guess every country have their take on English terms) trying to find SOMETHING that I can munch on without feeling guilty because it’s either expensive or….. something else (I can’t remember what kind of habits do I have? For the love of me I really can’t remember!);; I would say to anyone that’s with me at that time;; something like;; “Come on;; let’s go home.”

Even though my real house is in Kuala Lumpur. Giddit?

So I think it’s logic if I say that here in Jordan I have two homes.

One;; at Sakan Kuning.

I love the thick carpet and it’s rich burgundy color;; and I love the fact that it’s big enough for two but not too big it’s unmanageable;; and I love the fact that I can call it mine.

The other home;; at Sakan Yarmouk.

Our little gang consists of approximately eight people. They are spread across three flats (I don’t know what to call them actually? They have a quite spacious living room;; some have sofas others have chairs;; all of them have a little coffee table;; two bedrooms;; one little kitchen –not like mine which can hardly called a kitchen but more like a little space for cooking-;; and a quite spacious bathroom if compared to mine) there;; but the one I frequent the most is on the second floor. I bought a toothbrush and kept one of my facial bar there. No kidding. Though I did keep one of my pillows in another flat…

I don’t know why I’m always off topic;; but the point I want to say is I love every place that I call home. I want to keep the place clean and dust free and pretty and all neat and tidy and hotely and safe…

But the problem lies in the area I live in.

Sakan Yarmouk;; like it’s name suggests;; is situated in a safe area since it’s protected by walls and gates since it (it? There’s a lot of ‘its’ then)- I think the term buildings would apply correctly here- okay;; the buildings;; were built inside Yarmouk University area.

But Sakan Kuning;; on the other hand;; is the opposite of safe. Our area is actually known as one of the many ‘black areas’ in Jordan;; or more specifically;; in Irbid. An area is blacklisted when one;; when the number of cases exceed ten in A MONTH (this statistic is seriously making me sweat);; and…… That’s basically it.

^,^;

In our area;; there have been cases when Malaysian students (mostly female though I can’t really say) have been followed;; I repeat;; FOLLOWED;; to their homes. It’s very terrifying when you’re a foreign student;; just a fresh graduate of a high school and is barely in University. Even for a veteran of 30 I think it would be a scary experience.

Now imagine what these girls feel? They are barely adults;; living alone;; far from home;; without parents to look out for them;; and I have heard stories about the police being overly lenient when it comes to their people being convicted by Malaysian students.

That’s just one case.

Two days ago I slept here since I really can’t treat other people’s homes (my friends at Sakan Yarmouk) as mine forever can I?

That was when I heard a creepy story from my roommate;; Ami (everything’s cool now by the way. I myself am confused by my mood swings.);; about a flasher.

It happened sometime around last week;; when an unassuming normal car with a normal male driver came to a stop and took up a parking space right in front of our Sakan;; and everything seems normal;; he opened the in-car lights and looked up to our windows. That’s where it all went a little bit weird. For some reason his hands were moving when he was looking skywards to our windows.

This happened to one of us;; though not to Ami and definitely not to me since last week I only slept for one night at Sakan Kuning. Since I’m always at Sakan Yarmouk;; I didn’t know about this case till that night two days ago when I finally decided that I can’t be childish forever and run from my feelings of hostility towards Ami and make up fast since I really need to tolerate and behave since we will be living together till around September next year.

“Sek sek ni pon pelik la bakpo dio gitu kae? Lamoooooo dio duk situ;; lampu dio terbukok ni;; pastu sek sek ni mace jenguk la luar jendelo tu sebab dia dop gerok gerok duk situ jah. Rupo-ruponyo… Dio buka zip seluo dia pastu dio mace pege pege anu dio tu.”

Here I screamed.

HAHAAHAHAHAHHAHA I bet you guys are like ‘whaaaaaaat in the land of free doughnuts and giant sized milkshakes and alphabet spaghettis are we talking about here….????’

Okay okay Imma be nice for once in a while and translate the Kelantanese monologue… Though I think the full meaning and effect wouldn’t be as epic after translated.

“These guys thought it was strange (Oh gosh this feels so like my English essay back in school);; why is he

 there? After a long period of time;; with his lights on;; they became curiouser and curioser and finally decided to stick their heads out of the window… And got their answer when they saw his zip was opened and his hands moving.”

Again;; here I screamed.

“Takut sek sek ni. Pastu dop tahu nok buat gapo dio;; mujur call Abe Hafiz lalu. Waktu tu time dekat dekat Gharib gitu. Bila dah call ni;; Abe Hafiz mari lalu. Dengae satu van;; dengae syabab syabab lain skali. Van tu berenti betul betul belakae kerte tu;; tapi dop dae. Hok syabab Arab tu tengok gege kae;; dio pelik dio gi lalu. Dop dae la nak wat gapo gapo dio.”

Again;; translated version::

“Of course they freaked out! They were so out of it that they really don’t know what to do;; but at least they remember to call Abe Hafiz (which I forgot to tell;; is the one responsible for Malaysian students living in Irbid’s safety). It was nearing the time for Maghrib prayers (which is around dusk;; when the sky looks like it’s squeezed from tons of fresh oranges;; swirled with delightful burgundies and cool purple). Not long after the call;; Abe Hafiz came with ONE VAN packed with other syababs (which basically mean teenagers by the way-which I think make this story sounds funny because what can we teenagers REALLY do to harm anyone actually?). It stopped right behind the criminal’s (If he isn’t one I don’t know who else is. Doesn’t this count as sexual harassment?) car;; but they were just a tiny bit too late… When the Arabic syabab saw the van;; he got cold feet and drove away. So they didn’t get the opportunity to do anything to the syabab.”

… I think he drove away with his fly trap open.

… That last sentence made me feel guilty because it sounds like cursing to me.

Anyway;; that wasn’t the only case.

I have had the ‘honor’ to experience this kind of thing myself.

Though this time it was not just a person;; but a group of Arabic syababs around six people.

Once upon a night my friends and I were walking up the slightly uphill road that leads to our Sakan. The yellow building was on the right side of the road;; so we were walking on that side of the road.

We went out around 8-ish;; right after performing our Maghrib prayers because my friends;; Hani-chin and Syu-chin;; had an appointment with a senior. The senior;; whom goes by the name Aria-san;; had agreed beforehand to give extra class to them since they can barely understand what the doctor was saying in class since their class is in full-blast Arabic.

Yay to them ;P

Anyway we started out from Sakan Yarmouk and took the inside roads because it’s safer;; even though the street lights gave off very romantic lighting. We went out through Bab Iqtisod (The Economy Gate –which basically means that it’s the nearest gate to the Economy Building-do you guys really understand my explanation? Giddit?);; and the guards were being very kind and said things like;;

"ممنوع البنات ان يسيرن في الليل"

"هذا الحرام"

"يا مليزي الحال الخطيرة جدا في الليل"

Again;; not only do my English sucks;; my Arabic also have a lot of room for improvement.

“No walking out of night”

“This is forbidden”

“O Malaysians (no kidding they speak like this in everyday life) it’s very dangerous at night”

We were very thankful to the guards for being so nice and opening the gate for us. Actually I think they were

 kinda actually chilling out;; sitting languidly on their plastic chairs drinking shaai (tea- which they take VERY black;; just like the English I believe);;  and chatting awayyyy. Arabs love that kind of social interaction activity.

There was not a single lie in the words of those wisdom-filled pakciks.

Like I said;; Arabs are… A social bunch? At night they all have somekind of unwritten agreement to come out and sit by the roadsides;; whether drinking shaai or blowing out fruit-flavored and sweet-smelling smoke from their wide-opened mouths. If you ever come here to Jordan you will notice one essential thing:: it’s like a men’s country here.

Even more so at night;; when all respectable girls are prohibited to go out and the syababs reign the streets.

 It’s like the women have all been massacred or something.

So we walked briskly along those streets;; very carefully sticking together and making sure no one is following us. They have a bad habit of of staring at Malaysian students;; so we weren’t really that creeped out as we felt pairs of eyes following our steps.

That’s because we were walking among the crowd;; where there would be a lot of witnesses if;; na’uuzunbillaahi min zaalik;; someone or several someones want to do something to us.

But on the way uphill to our sakan;; it was dark. The streetlights seem to not want to give its best at the time for some reason;; so it was dark and quiet;; even from the sound of cars wheels and the burring sounds of engines.

We were walking;; I was leading the way since I am quite a fast-walker (I think it have something to do with the length of my legs HAHAHAHA okay joking joking);; Syu-chin and Hani-chin not less than ten steps behind.

I had seen that syabab (I think he is still in high school even though he looks a couple inches taller than me) when I was a metre away from him;; standing in the middle of our way;; shaking his head and moving his body while holding his phone against his ear. I had turned around at them to smile and mouthed ‘crazy’ at them;; but noticed their ‘blood-went-cold’ expression.

When I turned back around I found that our distance is weirdly getting smaller. My heart started beating real fast and that resulted to the quickening of my footsteps. My eyes were trained on the ground but I made sure that I’m watching them from the corners of my eyes.

Hani-chin was a slow-walker;; she has always have been;; so Syu-chin was falling in steps with her;; and I had a slight     that Hani-chin had tugged on Syu-chin’s hand.

That guy was shameless;; he didn’t actually walked towards us in a straight line at first;; it was more like he was moving at our direction;; and that was when we hear the laughter. I can’t help it;; I turned my head swiftly to my left because of my high ‘beware of the dark and it’s contents’ level;; and saw that he was actually not alone.

On the other side of the road;; a group of around five syababs were sitting on the pavement;; laughing so gaily as though enjoying seeing us squirm. Without I realizing my feet took longer steps and my mouth started freaking out on its’ own;; muttering to my friends behind me to 

“shutupandwalkfasterfasterfasterfasteromygoshthisisfreakingfreakingmeoutwalkfasterfasterFASTER.”.

It was DARK;; the only light were coming from the street lamps;; and cars from all over Jordan seems to think that that street is haunted and were avoiding it at all costs.

Of course we were freaking out;; I was sweating like no tomorrow.

The next thing I know;;; that syabab stopped pretending that he didn’t see us and started walking towards us properly;; saying some inaudible things. That’s when one of his friends got up from the other side of the road and started taking long strides towards us;; making clucking noises. Imagine our horror then?

I was near running in my baju kurung;; I felt like getting my skirt off then and there and sprint into the safety of Sakan Kuning’s gate.

We were walking like we were being followed closely by two suspicious Arabs;; because we were;; their laughter ringing in our ears and their steps not far behind from us;; and the clucking noises they made sound like a clown’s evil laughter at that time.

It was pure luck that we were so close to the Sakan Kuning at the time.

I didn’t realize when they stopped following us;; but when we started full-on running when we are inside the gate;; they didn’t invite themselves in.

I will never look at chickens and the clucks they made the same ever again.

When 'Us' Is Just Too Much

My room is on the top floor of this yellow building that we Malaysian students lovingly refer to as Sakan Kuning (The Yellow Hostel). My study desk stood between my bed that is pushed against one side of the wall and my roommate’s study desk;; facing the window that I love and hate at the same time since this is where the wind comes in but there’s another building that’s directly in front of mine so I have to be verrryyyy careful at night when I turn on the lights.

For me there is an invisible line drawn to divide the room into two sections;; one section belongs to me and the other belongs to my Kelantanese roommate. Let’s just call her Ami.

Last time I slept here (which was around two days ago. Don’t ask me why I’m not always sleeping here;; it involves the insanity and ambiguity that we all call feelings);; I actually ironed my pillow cloth so that it isn't all wrinkly before I walk out of the door. That also applies to my bed sheets. I’m hardly a perfectionist and I’m far from being a clean freak. But I made efforts to sweep the section of purple carpet that belongs to me;; and smooth-en my bed when it’s bed time.

I didn't ever slept on Ami’s bed;; that’s an atrocity that I’m ashamed of doing.

I love the term ‘my’.

My bed.

My gingerbread head pillow.

My pillow case.

My study desk.

My slippers.

My section of the room.

My space.

My privacy.

My rights.

These are all the things that I deemed I have the right to call ‘mine’. Not ‘ours’. And definitely not ‘yours’.

When it comes to ownership rights if you want to borrow or use or sometimes even look at it;; you’ll have to offer something. For example;; money;; assets;; or I don’t care;; anything. Even an apology for having the audacity to borrow a thing of someone else’s would suffice. Why? This is a stupid question because I presume everyone knows the answer.

Because it’s not freaking yours to do as you freaking please you dumbrain. I’m eighteen and I am trying very hard to act mature and not curse everything and everyone that annoys me;; but I think I’m making little progress it seems.

That’s because Ami just lovesssss to test my patience. I have heard somewhere from the grapevine that Kelantanese people practice cronyism faithfully. 

What is cronyism? Basically it’s the spirit of togetherness. 

Simply put;; this sentence explained everything PERFECTLY:: “What's mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.

Why am I so pissed at Ami and why did I accuse her as being almost religiously faithful to the concept of cronyism?

Why??

ONE

I have wrote before about the water condition in Jordan. Because of its lack of water source;; we have to use chlorinated water. It’s like going for a swim in the swimming pool every day.

….

Okay I’m over-exaggerating I so did not bath every day. Even when I want to;; I wouldn't because whenever I want to do it a feeling would creep from the depths of my stomach and crawl up the back of my spine and stay in my throat;; sticking around until I gave up the idea of taking a shower every day.

Yep;; you guessed it. It’s guilt.

Living here for a month now had taught me to value water as if there would be only one glass worth a day. Because it CAN disappear the next day.

And when it does;; it would take days for it to reappear. I don’t know what’s the problem about our water tanks;; but I am definitely not lying about it taking days to arrive into our personal little water tank in the bathroom.

I mean;; come on;; this is the dessert! She barely have any rivers;; and the only beach Jordan have is Aqabah;; and sea water can’t be used for domestic use because of its high salt content. I’ve been there;; and it’s freaking hot. My senior said it’s even hot in the winter. Imagine! We Malaysians;; whenever someone use the term ‘winter’;; we pictured postcard perfect cabin houses buried knee deep in snow as white as Snow White’s skin.

So I’m not here to debate about the whiteness of Snow White’s skin or whether or not she was being immoral because she lived with seven men;; yes;; dwarves ;; but men nonetheless;; but to ramble about the water situation here in Jordan.

Some days when I wake up there will be water coming out from the pipes. Some days there’s not even a drop. That’s why most of us will accumulate water and keep them in bottles or basins (Hell;; my English vocabulary is going to HELLLLLLLL).

Now the day before yesterday I slept at Sakan Yarmouk;; because my friends live there. Before I went out I made sure to put the basin under the tap and make sure it was full before I got my key from my pocket and locked the door to my room.

I am very particular about locks and keys;; I don’t know why.

Anyway when I came back the next day I was beyond pissed when I opened the bathroom door to see that the basin is freaking EMPTY. WHO had used up all the water? I KNOW that Ami had a lot of friends;; and she is the type that is over-generous. Even when it comes to the things that she have to share with another person.

The thing that made me go berserk and started screaming in the solitude of my room is when I turned the tap and found out that – TADAAAAAAA – no water.

It was pure LUCK that Ami was not at home.

She would definitely suffer from verbal abuse if she was there at the time.

Imagine;; (okay I am definitely not proud to disclose about this classified information) I was sweaty and smelly from walking and had not showered for THREE DAYS;; I came home expecting gushing water and being able to enjoy the sensation of soap on my skin and wearing new clothes smelling like apples and bananas and papayas and every known sweet smelling thing in the history of  mankind;; only to stare at the tap willing it to vomit water and wishing desperately that I have the power to change everything of mine;; my bag;; my books;; my skin lotion;; my cotton buds;; my bed;; my pillows;; EVERYTHING;; into water.

I wish my tears can fill up that basin…

TWO

As I said;; before I went out the day before yesterday I ironed my bed sheets and pillow cloth because I don’t know why I suddenly care about the wrinkles they are wearing.

The point is;; for once in my life;; I was willing to follow the hygiene standards of normal people and ignore my own standards. I was being oddly docile.

I made sure the pillows were placed carefully at the head of my bed;; my bed sheet was smoothed out and my blanket was folded in the proper way so that it would drape all the way to the other side and look hotel-ly.

But guess what had happened when I arrived home the next day?

My gingerbread man pillow was on the purple carpeted floor;; looking as if it was thrown from the bed when someone laid on it;; or someone used it as she lied on the carpet and had got up and left it there to go somewhere else. My pillow’s clothe was half on;; and half off. My bed sheet was all wrinkly and loose.

And my temper was skyrocketing by the record time of a few seconds.

Who wouldn't get pissed off??

I didn't remember ever saying that my bed is off-limits;; but have some respect!

Ami’s friends live next door;; and some days I know for a fact that they slept in my room. Because as I said;; I am not always home so Ami gets lonely (at least I think that’s the case). When they do;; some of them will sleep on my bed because both of our beds are single beds that are narrow and only can fit in two teenage girls lying side by side. Even then it’s cramped.

I didn't put up a sign that said “NO LYING ON MY BED.”

I didn't set up traps or bombs around the perimeter of my bed.

I definitely did not put bars around it that can only be opened by entering a super complicated password that involves the mathematical formula that proves that we are not alone in this world and yes;; aliens do exist.

My bed cannot be labeled as public territory;; but I welcome anyone that wants to use it.

As long as I know who uses it.

As long as she folds my blanket and doesn't carelessly hang it on my chair.

As long as my gingerbread man’s round head pillow stays on the bed;; in its destined position;; right side up where I can see his creepy thick lips smeared with red lipstick smiling at me with his pupil less eyes;; not on the floor;; in a position that can only be called digging a hole with the redness of his sexy lips.

As long as you treat me and my things with RESPECT I have no problem whatsoever.

Heck;; you can even come bring your bed and put it side by side by mine as long as you RESPECT what’s mine and know where to draw the line between being friendly and being rude.

THREE

Do you know what it feels like when you want to wear that certain shirt that you really want to wear today because;; you don’t really know why but at that time;; on that day;; you suddenly feel the need to wear it no matter what happens?

Did what I said make any sense to you my dear readers?

Let me rephrase that question.

Have you ever woke up one day and realized;; as you lie on that bed that you have graced with your saliva from when you were sleeping;; that today is the day that I will eat Lontong Johor? Or I wish that my mom knows how to cook tomyam? Or let’s sembelih a deer because I’m having cravings for it’s meat?

Have you? You have;; right?

I believe every human being on this planet will wake up to this conclusion at some point in their lives. It’s 

proven.

Well;; I had high expectations when I was standing outside the door of my room.

I expect the room to be neat and clean and my pair of slippers that I bought in وسط البلد;; (please copy and google translate HAHAHAHA) for 1 JD;; to be neatly arranged before the doorway;; ready to use.

But nehi he.

It’s not there.

Actually that has been occurring fairly disturbingly nearly always lately;; that I dare say that I am a master at frowning whenever my eyes search for my cheap slippers at the doorway.

Okay. I’m actually used to the fact that Ami like to use them because she doesn't have a pair of her own;; so I decided that I don’t have to be over dramatic and let it slide.

I walked in and sit on the carpet (we don’t have sofas or cushions which is a pity. I would love to see how many of Ami’s friends she’ll squeeze into our room every night to sleep together.);; pull off both of my socks and finallllyyyy noticed something critical.

We have tvs actually. What I mean in ‘we’ is we;; Sakan Kuning live-ins;; have a tv in our rooms. Some have channels. Others find themselves staring at black and white static scenery when the ‘tit’ the on button.

Well anyway;; our tv was on a little plastic table. Which under it I arranged my water boiler;; my iron and my rice cooker.

I was a in the mood of spreading the love and doing a good deed and making the world a better place by cooking the rice for lunch for my roommate and I when I opened the cover to find myself staring at the interior of the rice cooker.

Do I really have to write my name in BOLD CAPITALS on all of my things?

I can’t believe my neighbor has THE GALL to take my rice pot and put it permanently in their room!

Yeah;; I didn't come home often but that doesn't mean you have permission to use my things without asking first.

Because;; in my defense;; those are still MY things so you don’t have ANY right to treat it as anything other than MY stuff and NOT yours.

Is my ambition too high?

I did not dreamt of coming home to find my single bed transformed to a canopied king- sized bed with silk bed sheets with golden linings.

I did not wish to see my wardrobe to vanish and in its place a walk-in.

I did not ask for my study desk to be transformed into Nobita’s so I can open a drawer and hop in to ride the time travel machine.

I want to come home to find my things neatly in place where I put them.

I want the place that I will be living in for a year to be deemed safe for me to keep my things and where I can retain a bit of privacy.

I want a place that I can relax and not worry and generally getting pissed off when someone uses MY stuff and not return it.

I want a generally peaceful life where everyone respects each other and the room opposite from mine would bake heavenly smelling cookies and give a plate to every room on the same corridor;; wearing a homely apron and cheeks red from being too long sticking her head in the oven. Yes;; straight from an Enid Blyton’s novel.

I want to live in a community where I can trust my neighbor to bring in the laundry when the sky looks like it’s about to cry.

… Not that there’s any rain here;; except when it’s nearly winter. Then it will rain. My seniors said it’s the mark of the changing of the two of the most noticeable seasons in Jordan.

Anyway….

I really need to discuss all of these things with my roommate.

Contrary to what most people thought about me;; I’m actually a very forgiving person and I don’t like to fight or quarrel or participate in a cold war with anybody.

I will definitely show my displeasure to Ami so that we can live together peacefully and without problems.

I hope that I will learn something from this experience;; and I pray that my blog’s number of views will go up.

I always say this at the beginning of my posts;; but this time I will say it at the end.

Assalamualaikum peepers and stalkers :D

Reign Your Ego In Please

No matter how good you think you are at something;; you can never stop revising that 'something' because humans are a weird bunch. They remember the most unimportant things but sometimes forgot the most crucial.

I thought I'm good at English. I thought just reading some sappy teenage hormone-driven stories would be enough for me to act as my English language revision. Like most times;; I was wrong this time.

I was being too cocky and too full of myself. I thought everybody should kiss the ground that I walk on;; and shout my name in admiration and always seek me whenever. What a narcissist I am right?

So this is my punishment. Day by day;; my English language skills deteriorating. I felt ashamed to myself and I must admit;; a little bit scared. Cautious is not one of the words that came to mind when somebody was  asked to describe my personality. And I am certain I am never the analytical thinker.

 That's why I can never make a living off of playing in chess tournaments. I think I'll just waste my time by doing that.

Right now I know that I'm a good English essayer and a better English speaker. So what I don't speak like Shakespeare reincarnated? At least my accent's clear and people can understand what I'm saying.

But why can't I paste a few simple words together when that Arabic pakcik spoke to us in English.

 Suddenly I felt a feeling that I haven't felt in a while when it comes to speaking with people in English.
I felt afraid;; I felt intimidated;; I felt my self-confident waver and leaving in my wake the very loud sound of my heartbeats. It's like waking up from a dream where there are streams of rainbows and we can eat unicorns' horns if we want horns ourselves;; to the harsh reality and realization that no;; rainbows cannot be drank and eating horns is about as similar as biting your fingernails which is fisgusting.

Suddenly I realized;; my English sucked. Worse;; it's sucking. I mean;; it's continuing to suck. Why did I let this happen to me? I used to read a lot. That's why I almost never study for English exams because I believe I studied all the time.

At that time I just let another friend of mine to do the English talking. Where is the lioness I useed to be and why is there a black lamb in it's place? Cowering like a coward;; and didn't even have courage to stutter broken English in front of an English speaker. I really need to realize these things earlier.

I don't want to gain new things but at the same time lost my old knowledge. I don't want to trade anything for myu intelligence;; because I know that is the price for other people's respect.

The conclusion of my un-introed ramblings?

I should revise more often.

HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAAHHAHA

I love short and simple conclusions the most.

Muamalat

Living in Jordan is not so much different from living in Malaysia.
You still need to communicate with people.

Who is people??
Strangers.
Teachers.
Friends.
Acquaintances.

In Islam;; it's good that you love to do your ibadahs. I mean;; go on;; Malaysia does not in any way have a law against practicing Islam freely.

You want to pray in a group on a field?

No problem.

You want to preach in a stadium?

Please do write a confirmantion letter.

But that doesn't mean that you can not interact with other people. Humans are made to need each other. They are made many so that they can offer help towards each other.

Even more so when you are outside of your comfort zone;; for example when you're a Malaysian student living and studying in Jordan.

It is here that I realized the beauty of ukhuwwah and mahabbah.

I have a friend that is really impossible to deal with. She is the type that we have to take care of all the time.

We always need to ask if she's gonna eat or not. And whenever there's internet she will go to some quiet place with her tab and type away silently;; going AWOL for hours.

Even without her tab she would just be as quiet and went somewhere to read her dictionary. In a way she's fascinating since she have a very strong principle and persevered on reading even though everyone is talking about unimportant things.

But I think she is selfish. She didn't bother to talk about anything that doesn't benefit her. All she talks about was where could she get to rent a house as soon as possible;; where is the cheapest place to shop;; where could she buy her stuff...

She didn't ask me or any of our little group about our family;; how much siblings do we have;; why did we decided to come here.. I don't know her and she doens't want to know me.

Am I being too sensitive?