...watching an evolution like an old man and smirking at a good-bye note...

My habits of writing diary started since my secondary school.. owh well of course there were days when your teacher made 'writing dairy' as a homework over weekend, even since primary school but.. my really self-initiated 'diary days', started since, for whatever reason, form 4.

Then the habit ensued -- what changed was the way I write stuff, and the stuff that I write -- until Book #6, I guess, when 'Weblog' was introduced to my posting life.

My first post to my own blog, was titled 'One Quiet Afternoon', when I was typing it in a quiet afternoon, weekend, in my newly-joined workplace in KLCC.

Back then, my blog was simply an english-writing exercise for me. A place for me to brush up my 'Ah-Beng's-standard' english. I still kept writing my diary -- it became a place to write really deep stuff now. Deep, and secretive stuff, in my own mother tongue.

The drama went on. My blogging days started to get on track and my english was slightly improved and I could start to write 'deep' stuff in english. I started to find some sort of dominance or rather, an invasion, happened to my 'usual language' -- my diary started to be flooded by english words, in the middle of my mother-tongued chinese characters; I started to log more about my life on blog than in diary...

BUT I still managed to give a differentiator to classify which stuff to blog and what stuff to seal in my diary -- on my blog, some light toned stories hidden with deep and dark stuff, which were actually nakedly scribbled in my diary, but darker, heavier, up to the point that you don't want to read or write it further..

Try imagine this: my diary posting life, it's dark and deep and desperate -- all of the symptoms of a hopeless drug addict, full of jealousy over the shinny blog posts. Diary, when came to Book #7, started to die...

... as my posting life, officially switched to blogging.

I went crazy about posting in my blog, and alhamdulilah there were a few blog posts that received some attention from other bloggers and we started to make friends. My blog-posting life went on with more and more stylish posts, and virtual glamorous feeling kicking my head every time I received a compliments from my fellow readers.

"It's all about sharing".. I can even see me smirked at my dusty diary.

.. and with my head all overwhelmed by the power of 'sharing', I signed up Facebook.

Very well, you figured out what happened next.

While my 'typical blog posts' are normally full of suspense, hiden with quests and quizes, winding a storyline leading towards revelation of a final twist; Facebook asks a simple question "What's in your mind" and make sure the answer is under a limitation of word counts.

A clash of Gen-Blog and Gen-FB? Haha u think? I don't have the problem. I was happily actively keeping things straight-forward in posting my thoughts on Facebook, while using the power of Facebook as well, to share my long-winding blog post -- what a win-win, I think I'm a genuis.

...until one day, when I sat in front of my Mac and trying to post some thoughts on my blog, I ended up finishing my thought in only 1 sentence. ONE damn sentence. Period. 


Obviously Facebook had done something to me -- it's like there's a conspiracy going on, there's no win-win -- I'm loosing to Facebook, I mean, the blogging-me is loosing to the FB-me. Now my way of writing, of speaking, of expressing, and even of accepting thoughts, are all 'under a limitation of word coutns', so you'd better be direct!

My oh my.

My blog started to get abandoned, getting as dusty as my diary used to be. And when I tried to revive it, what happened was I ended up writing loooooong booooring stuff with zero suspense, zero quests and zero quizes, mouthful of fluffing with a big yawn at the ending.

Defeated -- And thank God Facebook becomes a phenomena and a sensation, at least the blogging-me was not defeated by any Tom, Dick and Harry. Sigh. But the feeling of seeing this 'Karma' stuff going on, I started to see what will happen to the FB-me one day soon..

...or not too soon. There comes 'Instagram'.

Haha. And now you start wondering when will I call it an end. The truth is, I don't think I will. :p

Instagram shares pictures. So you see the trend now -- pen-held writing, cut-short to typing, cut-short to mini sentence posting, now cut short to word-less sharing. Fantastic. I feel like going through a timeline, hopping from generation to generation, watching an evolution taking place.

...and if anyone of you had gone through what I ve been going through, you probably understand what I feel right now -- a clarity.

I just can't wait what will take over the 'Instagram' heat, what form of sharing and expressing can happened in future, what type of media will I be using to share stuff with my son -- I'm writing on behalf of him right now on his blog (www.isaachakimi.posterous.com) and I hope he'll take it over, and take flight from there, to continue sharing his life and his thoughts, using the media or sharing mode of their generation. . .. and Papa will meet you there.

.. and being in such a clarity mode, I'm terminating this blog, while pursuing a whole conglomerate of all these somewhere, somewhere to be announced. Thanks!

My augmented future.

2 things recently crossed my life that made me felt the future can be so, so near:

1. Augmented-reality;
2. My son.

The technology of augmented-Reality answers all my childhood fantasies;

The arrival of my son in my life brings me questions about his childhood fantasies.

One is the future of my childhood, another one is the future of his childhood.

Till this moment I'm still -- addictedly and fasinatedly-- playing the augmented-reality game in my iPhone, imagining how this technology will be/had already spilled over from only game application, and then flushed its way into our daily life.

..and at the same moment I am still waiting for my son's rocket to land, imagining how his life is already enhanced with the augmented-reality technology, and how his capacity of imagination will be stretched to a level which is way beyond the vision of my generation.

I simply can't wait.

The leftover..

Life has been fantastic and eventful, and it's packed with so much awesomeness to blog about -- but that's the problem. Too much, becomes too heavy to handle, and in the struggle with the time that flow too swift, he got lost and left out from the train.

..hence, he became a leftover.

**************************

...hence, I got married.

..but getting married is never a fair reason to justify a hiatus in blogging, as out there, there are bloggers who managed to blog along the the way from how they finally decided to get married -- to what they did for their wedding preparations -- until how the wedding went eventually -- and then the honeymooning blog-along -- up to the most current marriage life they are having -- and never even paused a month in blogging.

hence I truly accept the accusation of procrastination.

*************************

... He tried to catch up the train .. but you see, blogging is not only about recapping life, it is about expressing oneself's thought to life. Whatever. Point is, he was overwhelmed by all the confusions and excitements and anxiety and deep thoughts about life and about a change of life. Hence making him a failure to express accurately..

Oh yeah, in this phase, he's a leftover waiting for the next train.

*************************

Leftover is not loser.

But it might be a quit-er, like how I used to seriously think of quitting to blog, deleting all my blog posts and gaining my peace of mind -- oh the dilemma is one of the reasons for the hiatus, if that really helps to justify anyway.

************************

Back to his confusions.

So to think of it, the point is 'expressing' and 'sharing' his thought, better still, 'recapping' the life journey -- what if, he'd got someone whom he can express his thoughts to and share his sentiments with? Better still, that someone he got shared a same life journey all these while, hence there's no need of 'recapping' but 'rejuvenating'?

Better-better still, she was the reason of his expressions in his writings all these while, and now she's the co-pilot of his in the new train.

-- Point is, there's no any necessary anymore to make the lengthy blog, when he has met someone he can talk with, all night long, through out his life. No?

*******************

No.

Please, don't quit. She begged.

When I revealed my decision of deleting this blog, my wife stopped me. Up to that moment, I never thought that she was faithfully reading my blog all these while, or rather, in precise, she was faithfully, and patiently waiting for my update of this blog all these while.

Funny -- who said those couples in love never have miscommunication? :) While I'm worried that I've already bored her with my lengthy story when we are together, she's worried about I'll stop expressing myself through my words and writings.

Hence, I'll keep this blog alive, may not be kicking-ass-alively-alive but it will stay here for my thoughts, my sentiments, and my new dose of passion underneath my affection towards words and life.

---- to my wife,

you'll never be my leftover.

love.

realize .. (..a sequel, perhaps..)

Once upon a time God gave me a vision of a bridge, and I perceived it as a hope for the final linkage of two lands...

.. I looked forward the bridge to come, and I whispered to myself, "I wish I could see how it built... I wish I could see how it built...." .. with tears down, I thanked for the guidance.

*************************************

Not long ago from then I looked at the bridge, I found my vision blurred...

... and I told myself, "keep your faith... the bridge is still there, InsyaAllah... " .. with tears down, I hoped it could clean the dusk from my sight...

************************************

Not far away from now I reached the river bank, and I saw no bridge..

.. I hopelessly fell on my knees and asked God what happened... with tears down, dropped into the water of the river, I saw my reflection..

I saw a bridge. The bridge.

************************************

Not so far away from now I was reluctant to accept the true message of the vision, avoiding the great responsibility that was assigned..

.. I helplessly begged God to take away the burden.. with tears down, I saw myself crumbled into bricks and pebbles, into sands and dusk...

I could never be the bridge...

************************************

Just ago my struggle broke me down and I fell on my bended knees.. ..

"There's no bridge -- you are the bridge, face it.."

... the greatest challenge, the deepest dilemma, the darkest struggle, the most heart-tearing battle, the tinniest hope.. -- face it.

.. with tears down, I pray for strength, for perseverance, for wisdom, for guidance and for a stronger faith, to face a destiny that I couldn't run away from..

***********************************

Ps..

It took me more than 2 years to realize this heavy message behind the vision I received once upon a time...

I realized now, that the moment when I received the vision of a bridge once upon a time, a task had been destined to me already;

I realized now, that when I was on my bended knees once upon a time and praying for the bridge to come, a responsibility had been added on my shoulder already;

I realized now, that when I was on my bended knees once upon a time, listening to the fear of letting my loved ones down and wishing for a strength to raise myself up, a calling had been made louder in my ears already;

I realized now, that when I was writing about a bridge once upon a time in February 2009, and posted it and titled it as 'On my bended knees', another post echoing it with my realization, had been written, somewhere in my life, already.....

Tangled..

I'm tangled.

Face it: after all the while where we thought things are ok, I'm still in deep fear.

What did I do that dragged everyone else to the drowned what did I do that pushed everyone else start whispering at the corner what did I do that poured the silence spell to my love ones what did I do that faked every worries with a plastic relieve what did I do that made my old men stayed up in the night and stared the empty ceiling with their empty eye what did I do that sucked the soul of a sunshine what did I do that made a shout a yield a tease a sigh an insult what did I do that made my love ones wiped their tears quietly?

Is my vision that pushes me to take the less-traveled trail, or it's just my fear that blindfolds me from seeing the right way?

.... but vision, do I still have the guts to claim there's any, after all what had happened?

................ ....

Sorry, I truly am.

... waiting is another episode.....

He's waiting for her to come back. The one he used to know.

For the time being, things gone hazy -- he's unsure about the journey she'd travelled, neither the duration of the deviation.

Maybe forever it is.

Hence, the episode begins.

******************************************

Many of my readers waited, I then realized.

The best (most sarcastic?) response I've received regarding my hiatus of blogging was:

"Hey so you left behind your 'lEft Nothing Behind' eh?"...

:) I mean, thank you -- Yup I've been to India, twice, within 1 month time.. so I assume I'm supposed to blog about the awesomeness of the journeys -- but look at here, this is how we spell 'procrastination'...

... and I'm sorry for the long wait, things gone hazy lately. Promise I'll come back.

Soon.

03:31:54.

I guess I stumbled.

Just think that standing up after stumbling -- that would be a little bit childish here..

Want to, but not really afford to...

A thread of old life, how would you pick up? How about that of new one?

Normal may it sound - but how'd you go on when your heart begins to understand there's no going back?

Life, and its many many layers, were your choice initially, but not your options anymore once you'd decided...

... ...........

1. Pardon my awkward writing, I called it 'hide-and-seek'.

2. IGNORE it if you don't want to understand. Really, it doesn't really matter, so don't shout at me.

3. 03:31:54, I'm tired.

4. Happy holiday, if the mood matches yours.

Inspire. Inspired. Inspiring.

A young reader of my blog, Cheer, decided to start off blogging after following my little 'lEft.nothingbehind' for quite some times. She sent me a message telling me how nervous she was.

...and I did not reply Cheer's message. I only smiled and wished her all the best, in my heart.

Another young reader of my humble blog, Zafirah, sent me a little note telling me how she was 'inspired' by the approach of me telling a story.. and hence practiced it in her SPM trial of English paper essay writing, and managed to get a 47/50 high score, equivalent to 91% for the paper. In her email, she told me how excited and how thankful she was..

....and until now I do not know how to reply her email.

Across the South China Sea, an English teacher in China, Xiaorong Li, sent me a note asking permission to use one of my blog post for her (his?) class. In the note, teacher Xiaorong Li told me she wished to let her students perceive a 'transcultural perspective' from my post...

...and I think I replied something but I forgot..

.... ...

...and now please tell me how should I react to all these feedbacks. Overwhelmed? Proud? Excited? Motivated? What?

What?

I showed the email from Ms. Zafirah to my mentors, hoping I would get some words from them but I did not. Of course they are happy for me for being good enough to inspire someone else, but that was not the feeling I was getting.

Instead, I somehow felt worried.

'To inspire' is a big word, and I don't think I'm right to carry it.

I know what's the feeling of 'getting inspired' like, and I would proudly say that there are great people around me who are truly inspiring... and listen carefully, inspirational people can be people who seems to be tiny and down-to-earth. I've seen too many so called 'great leaders' talking on the stage of 'inspiring people', but they only talk craps and cliche, and pathetic enough, while they thought they are gaining worships and admirations, they never realized they are actually making themselves an on-sale product with cheap promotions.

Seriously, when you find yourself trying too hard boosting what you are and who you are, with some old memories of track records and medals and awards, then you are loosing crowd.

..cuz a man would know well enough what's the feeling of being truly inspired.. and a man, too, should know well enough when and why they are being truly inspiring, and when and why they are not.

..because 'to inspire' is a big word -- I just think that one should at least be righteous and sincere enough to carry the noble task, achievements and glories are only the next factors that count after the integrity and modesty, no?

Ps.. Zafirah, yes you are right, it feels amazing to know I somehow helped out at the end of the day through my humble writings, but I don't think mine is able to affect people as what you've said. I'm glad I've unintentionally provided you some kind of references or perhaps an idea for you to write better, and your feedback is definitely alarming for me as I now really really have to watch out what I write and what I said. :) thanks again.

In pursuit of knightship.

I'm back. Last night, while you were asleep.

Pardon me for the sweat and blood, it was a lot of try-and-error I've done.

Pardon me for the wounds and scars, it was a lot of huff-and-puff I've gone through..

..and pardon me for failing, if you expect any win.

I'm back. Last night, and I sneaked into your room.

I still have my sword with me, more importantly I still have my name with me. "Your name is a given," she said, "use it to fight rather than your sword.."

..and I left, for this journey, carrying my name and her last words, I brought it to you...

I'm back. Last night. And I kneed beside you and observed.

I could tell you my wildest tales of my journey, tell you how I fought the dragon and escaped from a bursting volcano.. ; or perhaps how I lost in the jungle of lies and almost drowned in the river of dilemma...

..and of course sometime I exaggerate, but my dear, every story I've told is part of me... ..

I'm back. Last night, when you were dreaming of an adventure.

How I wish you'd learn to stand tall, and live righteously; but living righteously is more than what people around you might have told you...

"Always check your intent before you draw your sword," she made me to remember this when I was given this sword....and now I'm giving it to you, and promise me to use it as a separator.

A separator between one right intent and those bad ones..

... as one right intent is already a beginning of righteous living..

I'm back. Last night, and I kissed your sleeping eye...

.. and I'm leaving, perhaps before dawn..

How I wish to take you along, but I choose not to. As you will have your own journey one day... a journey like mine, or even greater, and as adventurous as your dream, in your pursuit of knightship.

The curious case of the disloyal order and the disorder loyal of a writing bug in a disturbed mind..

(There comes November, prescribing a death penalty onto my blog posts for October.. )

(... and I apologize to those who waited. In fact I'm surprised and thankful to know that there are actually people waiting.)

Yes, my writing paused. It just jammed like the photocopier in my office. And when I thought I was stuck because of the chaos in my life throughout the month of October, a friend of mine came to me and ask a simple question:

"Can I look at what's in ur pocket?"

There's a little notebook inside my pocket. I do a lot of drafting and quick jotting inside it. But lately, it's filled with sketches.

... hence I realized, I wasn't stuck, I was just unintentionally switching to another way of expression -- I don't write, but I sketch -- in the middle of a wait, inside LRT, after-work walking alone, midnight awake -- whenever I'm alone, whenever the disorder state of emotion haunts me, whenever a heavy press of my pen onto the paper or a random line helps in expressing my desperation or chaos better than words.

Post-post note....

"You don't seem OK..." She gave the notebook back to me after flipping through it..

"I'm OK.." I smiled, kind of regret for lending her the notebook.

".. a spider's killer instinct is actually its self-protection... for they got hurt, they get defensive... I understand where you are coming from... " she explained.

I was stunned.

".. but don't build up the walls around you... " she continued.

I was stunned.

Thank you, Shunza.

My Ruku' & Sujud..

I just realized that I always got something to say in every Ramadhan.

In 2006, I perceived Ramadhan as an endurance test, hence I wrote this;

in 2007, I celebrated Ramadhan on a Norwegian vessel, and had a thought about self-discipline, hence I wrote this;

in 2008, I came back from my Europe grand tour, with the musing from the tour I celebrated Ramadhan with a perception of faith, hence I wrote this.

In 2009, I entered Ramadhan with a new breath... and I find myself speechless.

Ramadhan doesn't feel the same anymore.

Too many things happened on me in this Ramadhan. I almost lost my hope in front of a musibah, I lost patience on my stupidity and inadequacy, I lost my temper and threw it to my dear brothers, I broke down and crumbled in front of God;

..but then, things changed. Along with my prayers, my ruku', my sujud, my re-composed belief towards Qada' and Qadar, things changed slowly in the same Ramadhan.

When I look back, this Ramadhan doesn't feel the same anymore -- when all about you before was shredded off, and all about you previously was redefined, what left behind is a naked core... the one you have nothing to hide but to face all your weaknesses, the one that will make you shamefully fallen on your knee, to ask for forgiveness from The Almighty..

This Ramadhan taught me the meaning of bertaqwa;

This Ramadhan offers me a month of self reflection, a month of inner self cleansing..

.. but it's just me being too dumb-witted, not picking up any drops of holiness of Ramadhan, but wasted, day after day, this only-one-month holy month.

When Ramadhan is approaching to its end, I find my desperation worsened -- I'm still on my way searching for the true meaning of Ramadhan, I still find myself stuck in a pressing urge when realizing my inadequacy in reciting Quran, I still failed here and there when come to bertaqwa, I still have the deep guilt-feel to think of my dosa...... -- but when Ramadhan is approaching to its end, missing any Terawih, or even a thought of missing one night of Terawih makes me feel guilty; loosing focus in my prayers makes me feel guilty; loosing grip on my Taqwa and patience makes me feel guilty; fall into the trap of desires makes me feel guilty....

Perhaps yesterday I was only a passenger walked by the door, hoping I could have a glance at what's behind it, and I thought I've learned well by peeping through the keyhole;

Today when I walked into the door of Ramadhan, my heart shivers and I'm blank baffled. There're more than what I thought I've learned, there're much heavier than what I thought I've enjoyed, and there're more sweetness than the fasting pain that I thought I've borne with..

Ramadhan doesn't feel the same anymore. My ruku' and sujud wouldn't feel the same anymore..

Sneak.

Wake up. I caught a grasp of cold air.

Where am I? My eye started searching around. Deep dark. In a cave. I could hardly move my body. I felt pain, but I couldn't moan -- my slight instinct alarmed me to not make any noise.

The boy's sleeping beside me. Peacefully. I look at him, listening to the noise made by another scouting troop. Things never turn right. Things never turn right.

I looked west. The bridge's still there.

*************************************

Wake up. I heard somebody weeping.

My body was laying on my bed. I'm still here, inside the cell. The little boy on next bunk was crying , I need to get him out of here, before the worst.

"....before sunrise.." I read the message written on my arm..

He's the precious. He's the hope. I looked out. The bridge's there, but there're guards around. I moved to him, held his little hand. I could feel him shivering, and he's weak.

"Hey boy, be strong, OK?" I whispered, ".. you're not a coward.. be strong.. everything will be fine, we'll get through this one day.. " I see him nodded.

*********************************

Wake up. I heard people cursing, and the chaos triggered by angry crowd. Realizing something had gone terribly wrong, I looked for the little boy.

..but I was too late.. the boy was captured and tied up. He was still trying hard to breath when I reached him. I saw the bruises on his body, and the stones of blame and humiliation were scattered around him.

"Wake up, buddy.." I shook his little body.

"Hey... look what I've done to this land..." he answered, slowly opened up his eye. I looked around. This land used to be a wonderful place... but it's now full of anger and despair..

"...hey..." the boy continued, ".... I'm a coward, right?" I see tears in his drained eyes.

***********************************

Wake up. I had a nightmare. In it, I lost him.

I can't afford to lose him. I need to bring him cross the bridge. There are helps there. All my brothers across the bridge will protect him, all my sisters across the bridge will give him food.

Eyeing on the bridge, I know I just need to wait for another few hours for the guards to switch shift. He's still breathing. Thank God. Outside of this cave, the scouting troops were still searching around.

I put my hand on this forehead to feel the warmth. He looks so fragile when he's sleeping, but I know he's a strong little boy. He's a gift from God -- a gift that should be guarded till death. Falling on my bended knees, I pray to God. I pray for strength and guidance, so that I can protect him better, so that I won't let him get hurt anymore; I pray for a way out, from all these chaos, from all these misunderstandings; I pray for a better tomorrow; I pray for two lands that is linked by a bridge, not separated by a bridge...

**************************************

Wake up. I caught a grasp of cold air.

Where am I? My eye started searching around. Deep dark. I'm still in the cave.

I looked west. The bridge's still there, and it's cleared. I heard Azan from the other side.

It's time. Fajr Azan is a signal for me and my brothers at the other end. They must be waiting now.

I woke up the little boy, "we gotta go now.." I put him on my back, recalling the message -- the last message left by my brothers earlier, written on my arm --

"Bring Faith back... before sunrise.."

I patted on the boy who's riding on me now, "ready?" he nodded. I turned my head and kissed him, "I'm bringing you back, Faith..."

Faith hold his arm around me tighter. We sneaked out the cave, towards the bridge.

Zone?

A young reader of this blog send an email to me and this is her little request:

"Can you please elaborate more on a comfortable zone? does it mean that we should not just satisfy with current situation, have to explore more?

I would like to read your blog about this ..if you are free to write.. thank you ^^ "

I thank her for the email, although I don't really understand why she chose me to be referred to such a question. If the email dropped into my mailbox years earlier, I might have quoted some saying about being 'adventurous', and telling her that getting out from your mama's embrace and yada yada, end up arrogantly writing a lengthy notes showing off my belief , but not now -- --

-- now, I'm rather worried and perhaps careful to answer her request.

-- cuz' you could ruin someone's life if that person take your advice in a very superficial way. And I dare not do that.

Going out from a comfortable zone can be extremely disturbing, to the extent of heart-tearing and it can crumble you down into pieces at any time. But there's one thing about getting uncomfortable despite of all the fears and insecurities -- You just need a drive. A strong drive.

A strong, strong drive, called 'Faith'.

We all are children of God, and we all are meant to shine according to God's will. Stayed surrounded by everything that you are familiar to, and stayed pampered by the feeling of secured will not help you to see God's will.

Let's try think in this way: God created us and God created the world far bigger than where we stand, isn't His will that want us to go out and explore, and ultimately found the reason to shine?

.. Yes I know, my 'answer' does not really help to explain what the young reader wants to know -- and in fact, I don't really intend to give any answer or advices. I still have to say, that none of us know what's outside our comfortable zone and none of us wouldn't feel terrified when challenges come -- None. It's you who will decide and chose your own path --

-- so if you're not sure, please stay, until you perceive that ultimate vision, God willing.

Mirror talk.

We’ve seen a lot of classy hotels that provide lifts with mirror inside, but have you ever thought about the function of those mirrors?

Well, some might say it’s another cliché interior design which have been copied-cat over and over again in most of the hotels;

..and, maybe some might say it gives that little lift a roomy and spacious feel by putting the mirrors inside;

..erm, some might say it’s a little friendly touch provided by the hotels for their guests, in order to check their appearance before going out of the lift and meeting somebody important in lobby..;

.. some might even say it’s something about Feng-Shui or perhaps a ‘Ghostbuster’ trick.. etc etc etc.

So what say you?

Mirrors inside a lift are put up for a reason. It’s for the sake of conveniences of our wheel-chaired friends, so that they don’t have to turn around, and still be able to keep an eye on the level of the lift which would appear on the digital board near the entrance.

Most of the time we think and speak and act on behalf of ourselves, sometime we just have to re-look things from somebody else’s perspective, and every time –every minutes and every seconds -- is the time to quit egoism and quit being self-centered.

When tomorrow turns today..

Today I found myself pushing my body out from the mushy mud, tomorrow I'll clean myself and stand on firm ground;

Today I saw light at the end of the darkness, tomorrow I see me running towards the light, though it's tiny, but it's true.. ;

Today I was on my bended knee asking for God's forgiveness and permission, tomorrow I see me standing in front of the door, with a handful of love I received..

Today I hugged and kissed my brothers and we broke into tears of joy and love, tomorrow I see me walking with them, to the greatest journey that I'm about to embark..

Today I celebrated a rebirth, tomorrow I'll make my 1st step as a new born, carefully, and fearlessly.

When tomorrow turns today, I'll hold on my strength, and don't stop me from shedding my tears when I receive your love -- It's the tears of joy, and faith.

To my dearest, dearest brothers and sisters.. syukran.

Happy happy happy (re)birthday to me...

"..You know you are not alone..." she said this after a few seconds of silence, but it sounded so helpless.

Over the phone, he who already got tears flushed in the eye, laughed out loud, "I know I'm not -- of course I'm NOT alone! Hey we've just had fun laughing and dancing together, I enjoyed the company.. Hahaha!!"

Ha.ha..ha..-- an awkward silence ensued before her voice to be heard again in the phone, "..please... talk to us -- let us know what you feel, or we can't help..." she pleaded, "...none of us went through this, we need you to talk to us..."

"I'm fine.. don't worry.." His reply sounded lot emptier than the empty room after the party..

*********************************************

"My left hand is a cat, and my right hand is a touch with healing power.." -- Rebirth, 1st track in "Immortal", Cheer's latest album. He bought this album from a music store, a place he has been eagerly craving for to be in.

He knows the mechanism of sadness and loneliness -- these two elements always look for recognition from outside, through sharing, through talking, through understanding. But when the sharing the talking and the understanding are blocked, it's music store and book store that he would turn to -- where various moods are sold on the rack, various 'recognitions' are packed and sealed, you pick, you pay, and you go.

It's a cheap way of self -healing. Cheap, and superfacial, but somehow, it works.

Like his right hand touching his heart-broken cat on his left hand, the healing works, somehow..

***********************************************************

"The fear makes me shiver with tears in the middle of many sleepless nights, the fear frightens me whenever an sms sent in or a phone call dialed in, the fear that smears so deep into me that it controls all my emotions when I'm alone... -- will you understand all these feelings? Will you understand the dilemma between switching off your phone to cut off from the reality, and let

your phone switched on to make sure you'd still receive calls and sms from friends to remind you that they're still around? Will you understand the pain when any slight sense of loosing hits you out of any tiny reason? Will you understand the pressure to stop tears from spilling when you are alone inside a train, in a meeting, in front of workstation, on a street and even in front of your closest friends? Will you understand the desperation of running away from everything, and leave everything behind?

Will you understand how you realize you love your friends and you don't want them to listen to all these? Will you understand?

..will you?"

.....

No she did not listen to all these. The phone was hung up. The only one who listened, was he himself, and perhaps God -- perhaps, cuz he never knew how to talk to God, though he always desperately wanted to...

********************************************************

Nobody in this world would forget their own birthday, nor ignore it. Hence, counting down to one's own birthday is inevitable.

The album 'Immortal' is a birthday gift for himself, although he knows that's not any greatest and proudest birthday gift -- most probably, the coming birthday wouldn't be the greatest nor the proudest one.

...counting down to this birthday, is like zooming into a fear, a fear of known and more unknowns..

He returned to his empty world after the phone. Feeling sorry about her, and everyone who cares..

"How would we understand if you just keep all those to yourself?" was her last question..

I'm sorry, I just hate to be a looser, I just hate being fragile, I just hate to be pitied, I just hate to be a burden to all I love..

He double clicked Track 1 on his player, flipping through the booklet of 'Immortal', he found a footnote about the album, printed on the last page:

"..to all sorrowful soul.."

He couldn't help but to hold both his hands together.. "...my left hand is a cat, and my right hand is a touch with healing power..." Cheer sang from his player. He fell on his knee...

Re--

Re-check.

He looks at the mirror, recheck -- there was a weeping sad face 2 a.m. in the morning, where he fell apart upon all the loads and burdens in another sleepless night; and now there's a skinny feature in the mirror, calm and emotionless on the angular face. He doesn't find any sign of strength, but beneath the shadow in the eye there's a determination, he rechecks.

Re-phrase.

".. let me rephrase, sir..." he hopes he'd been putting it correctly in his 1st statement, "I'm stuck in between two doors -- I need to close one door in order to enter the other; both doors just can't connect and make this whole world one room..." he rephrases.

Re-ceive.

I receive guidance I receive love, I receive signals I receive strength;

I receive warnings I receive hatred, I receive bad-news I receive fear..

Re-member.

"No worthwhile move comes without sacrifices, and greater sacrifices needs greater strength, with stronger faith.." trying to remember how he was moved by this statement which came from a wiseman he met, he remembers another line from another mysterious man who came to him in one fine afternoon,

".. brother, keep this name -- it means faith, and it means fearless -- that's you name, my brother, that's your name.."

Re-tard.

He looks at the mirror, recheck -- there's no more weeping sad face but a skinny feature with shadow in his eye. Almost 2 in the morning, he's alone in the mirror, and the mirror reflects also the loneliness of his world. He then realizes that his life is retarded already -- it is empty now.

The hum of a lonely soldier..

Life is too hard to become good.. I'm too weak to become strong..

Sometime we thought we cried because we can't love,

but the fact is .. we cried because we loved;

Sometime we thought we don't deserve the despair right now because we've fought,

but the fact is .. it's the despair that made us fight, till right now..

Life's too hard to be good.. I wish I'll be tougher to stand strong..

Battle on, soldier..

-- 29 March, 2009..

D'River Cafe, River Front KB..

among one huge group of Muay Thai fighters, gather here for International Muay Thai Challenge.

back to basic..

Pathetic enough, sometime we just need assurance and reassurance from somebody else, to tell us that we are doing fine for being ourselves.

Our world crumbles and we groan and moan when people around us fail to give us any assurance. And sometime we lost faith to friendship, to family-hood, to kinship, to brotherhood, to loveship and all good things in life when we thought those who supposed to understand don't understand us.

..but hey, how well deserved are we to ask for full understanding from somebody else, and more, to receive assurance and reassurance on our own life's value?

Things hit me lately and it made me ponder. And when I started to get unsure about all I believed in, an old 'K-I-V' message from a stranger reassured me.

The message is an offer. One of my photo in Prague of Czech Rep. was chosen to be included into an online travel guide. I don't consider this as an achievement but it's an assurance to me at this point of time -- an assurance that at least help to revive my confidence, at the point of time when I'm feeling I'm the biggest looser in this world.

Feel free to got to these links to view the travel guide:
Golden Lane
www.schmap.com/prague/sights_malstrana/p=160527/i=160527_38.jpg

On iPhone/ iPod touch:
Golden Lane
www.schmap.com/?m=iphone#uid=prague&sid=sights_malstrana&p=160527& i=160527_38

Blog widget (shown on my panel):
www.schmap.com/guidewidgets/p=14355408N00/c=SJ1911811

ps.."Back to basic" is something keep on flashing in my head lately, and together with the phrase, I have a strange vision seeing each of everybody is actually a planet in this universe -- I know, weird, as the rest of my illogic visions -- and I'm not going to talk about it here. My point is, the basic of our pursuit of happiness is all about feel good about what we're doing, minus the outsider factors.

Like a planet shines because of the life's growing in it and all the buzz and fuzz happening on it -- not about how its orbit cross cut the others in the universe, not really.

muted in silence.. (I would say..)

Hold on, hold on -- You sure you are going to tell them all?

It has been left.. untold.. for such a long time...

Yes. I'm going to reveal it -- not all of it, but most of it --but it's still up to them to pick it up.

Hmmm... so.. which one are you going to start with?

Hmm.. start from recent, shall we?

It's up to you....

OK.. let's start.. I would say "I'm sorry. The joke was on purpose. I wanna see how you care about me, as I don't trust myself was being really cared about by you... I was just being unsecured, and less-confident... please forgive me.."

To who?

To a text message that said "It's not funny n u shud know wen 2 stop dat stupid joke"....

Why did you leave it untold?

...cuz it sounds like a looser.

Well, indeed. And that's a lousy start. What's next?

I would say "I'm not fine, not at all. I'm struggling with my past and I keep on loosing; I hate myself for being indecisive, and being a big looser in standing up for what I really want for myself....."

Sounds fuzzy.. and this is to ..?

To a bunch of good friends who witnessed how I crumbled and fell apart into fragments..

..you should just let them know how you feel -- that's good friends for.

It was untold -- cuz it sounds like a promise, and I don't want to promise something that I can't even promise myself....

Hmmm.... next.

I would say "Please help me to lock my courage and my strength and my optimistic vision that I gained every morning, let me have all of them until mid day, until night; let these hopes guide me in making the decision, and taking the ultimate move.."

OK -- now this is fuzzier and confusing.. to whom you wish to reveal this to..?

To God.

Why didn't you just tell then?

..cuz I'd never know whether he's listening...

Don't cry.

No, I'm not.

You bet. Ok go on -- what's next?

I would say "Don't worry.. Nothing will change, I promise; My love to you, my devotion to you -- all will stay the same like before.. I promise.."

To..?

My family..

Then why you'd never said it?

Cuz it's painful.

Don't cry.

Hey stupid I'm not.

Fine. Next.

..............

Ting Tong.. Anybody home?

We'd better stop here. *sign out*

*sign out*