my nieces are too cute gah gah!

tomorrow is the day of my sister's lunch/reception gig at her husbands' parents' house. It's taking a while to get used to calling Nazri that, her husband.

Humming to myself in the backseat of Nazri's sister's Myvi, I noticed the little signs of affection between my sister and him. I was taken aback, and to my surprise had negligible jealousy. The way he looked at her, the way their hands found each other so naturally. I cant bring myself to soak in this whole 'quickie meeting and now married' situation yet little bubbles of happiness surfaced. She found someone I'm confident I never will.

Its inevitable that humans just crave acceptance, affection and ick, love. Down to the very antigens in our bone marrow we outsource it. We risk everything for it, throw ourselves into dark pits of sorrow, tangle ourselves in infinite dilemmas and scar willingly.


I am only 19 yet, I fear this disguised affinity. I've seen how people treat one another disgracefully. How people shun others out, use and abuse, take advantage of, charm the legs off you and discharge you like an object drained of its novelty. I guess I'm just too jaded for this love thing. Maybe its the fact that I'm a romantic idealist. One who wants the joys and the little bubbles of happiness but a coward when it comes to facing the music. Facing the downside of love and its perimeters. I want the honeymoon phases to last, I want to plunge into it and not worry about being hurt. I want to Rollerblade down that steep hill without any knee pads and elbow pads ,unscathed. Foolish, and unrealistic.

I remember when my best friend fell in love with the guy I was in love with ( who was my best friend too ) and got together with him. Jaysus the feeling of your insides crushing inwards leaving you emotionally crippled. When I had to fake being okay all the time when I was with them. When both of them slowly and steadily began to hang out with me less and less spending more and more time with each other. When we did hang out as a trio ,I had to pretend I was okay with their PDA moments. It sickened me how I let myself fall into such messy circumstances.


Sure I have fabricated a person who would probably accept my crazy bracelets,average height, frizzy hair, my weird wit, unlithesome and ungraceful body, my queer antics. At the end of the day that's what it remains. A figment of my imagination, morphing into unattainable volitions. I dont steal the show on the dancefloor, I probably cant WOW you with my cooking. Bitten fingernails, stubby fingers. I cant write poetry, I cant sing. My hands remain in my pockets, my gaze lowered. But I have a little chard of amber that continues to burn, glow ,and remain lit.


I can rock your world, but I'm the truth from which you run and Love is the truth from which I run.

I want what is best for my sister, always. As a sister I do want to see her happy, and yes, happiness is different for all of us. My definition of happiness is completely different from the next person, let alone my own sister. Whether its an A grade for that pesky exam paper, or the smell of a new book. Nonetheless, we cant quantify happiness nor think that it exists solely from one thing, or hoping that that one thing gives it exclusively. The same book that gave me that "happiness" from its crisp papers, could give me a paper cut. I could get 10As and it wont guarantee me a scholarship, making me feel worse than those who didn't even score in the first place.

My sister decided 2 days ago, that she was going marry someone she met in a span of a day, after having only 3 ( albeit long ) conversations with the guy. Someone who's dreams and goals are co linear with hers. Someone she's been looking for this whole time. Someone she's been staying up all night praying for. The man of her dreams. A pious, gentle , kind man ( which she has clearly labelled from the few conversations she's had with him ). They share similar life experiences ; being astray from the path of Iman and finally returning to it, born again Muslims.

I met with him yesterday, my gaze locked on his face, angry and hurt. I had no qualms about their decision to wed, but he is to leave for Yemen on Wednesday and wants to bring my sister along, married. In a span of 24 hours of knowing each other and deciding so, they're leaving. I am angry and hurt that he's taking her from us. Just.like.that.

He's met my parents, my grandparents, my eldest uncle and they've all given their stamp of approval. Except for my parents , who although approve still cant make heads of tails of the given situation.

"do you love her?", I asked.
he nodded, and I was left confused. Familiar with the situation of learning about someone then falling in love rather than the other way around.


It is hoggish of me to want my sister to stay in the country, keeping her from her own pursuit of happiness. I guess marriage seems to be the answer to her, her answer to happiness, to closure. Ticking that box that says "marriage" that seems to shadow everyone's back.

I do hope your happiness lasts, Medina.

you know how sometimes you find yourself witnessing a beautiful scene? Act of simple gestures, kind smiles and love. How you see everything a little too clearly, including dust particles floating mid air and shadows. There's that bonus too, when light seems to be on your side. How it falls so divinely over everything it touches, seamlessly melting into every nook and cranny, every crease and fold.







I was organizing my sleeping space, tired from the day's events. It was late afternoon and warm, my wet hair from the river laps before hand cooled me off a little. I was writing in my moleskine, doodling when Lep's son took it from me and studied it. He was fascinated at the rows of my tiny scrawls ( 0.35 pen! )across pages and pages in this journal I kept strictly for my wanderings.

Muli came and sat next to me, smiling. There's a language barrier between us, even though we've known each other longer than I've known any other Penan. I met her when she was still fairly a newlywed to Lep. Selai ( Lep's dad ) and his family can speak bahasa pretty well, but Muli couldn't. She did however understand whenever we spoke basic bahasa to her and her hands would gesture her answers. She's better at it now, knowing a few words and understanding full bahasa sentences. My command of the Penan language improved as well, and somehow she chose only to speak to me in that language. Whenever I didn't understand, she would explain its meaning, pointing to an object or ask Lep, her husband, to translate. I loved every bit of it because in some sense, I felt like she accepted me and gone was that barrier that kept us from learning more about each other. She was always amused with my pronunciations and wrong sentence structuring and I was always amazed at her strength and grace.

Anyway, as I was combing her hair I noticed a little scene unfold in front of me. John and his daughters were sitting at the end of the wooden house,covered in the remnants of afternoon light. Muli's brother handed them a photo album we brought with pictures of our previous trip. Lep handed them coffee sachets and cups of hot water.

I quickly took my camera out.

My glutes and my thighs are sore from yesterday's yoga class. For starters, I have been on hiatus from the gym+yoga+yadayada for a few months now. I boldly decided to join the Dynamic Flow class, which is a more challenging class of yoga. 5 minutes into the class I knew instantly my ego should've been checked. It was tough, everyone else doing the poses and sun-salutations effortlessly while I clumsily and ungracefully moved from pose to pose. Even the instructor eyed the alignment of my poses mockingly. I was itching to leave the class, but I was right in front and again my ego was rock solid reminding me to finish what I ignorantly started.


I regret not keeping up with my fitness fiercely as I did before. After coming back from Sarawak, came my exams. It was then an eating fest of shamrocks, rhubarb pies, and faux guinness on my holiday in Ireland. Before I knew it it was a new semester in college,more homework. Ramadhan and Raya followed soon after. I was healthy, strong and fit early in the year and now I just feel like a big blob. Ive been running again and boy does everything feel 100x tougher. The yoga class noxiously reminded me of how un-flexible I have become from not attending the classes on a regular basis. I was so beat, and sad that I let this happen. I let myself slip away.

But nothing could beat that feeling of stepping out of the class, glowing. I could feel my strength being unlocked with the numerous chakuranga or whathaveyou during the class. Nothing beats the feeling of running at 10kms an hour , your abs clenching , hair matted to your forehead. I asked the yoga instructor how many classes I had to attend weekly to get my flexibility back after being away from it for so long, mentioning that I was such a klutz when everyone else looked completely at ease.

"yoga is not about comparing. Its about how you feel when you do the poses. How you feel your inhalations and exhalations. how you feel blood rush through your body. Everyone has different strengths and flexibilities. As long as you felt good leaving that class, then thats all that matters. You're glowing now! It means you did your body good"

I wanted to cry. Then marry him. then slap him for staring at my rolls during class.



I've hired a trainer. A "platinum" one, that will almost too delightfully kick my ass into shape while I exercise in mock horror. It is going to cost me A HELLUVA LOT. But I need professional guidance for my trip to Mount Tahan since target areas need to be worked on, like core-strengthening and lower body conditioning. I will have to starve in college for the next 2 months . Movies are a no-go and just don't mention to me about coffee sessions or shopping! :(

But it'll all be worth it. Nothing comes easy anyway.


ps : I'll have to make sure I secure assignments with ItudioStudio, plus I'm thinking of selling prints.

I AM GOING TO BE A GEOLOGICAL ENGINEER.

I'm thinking of doing something big before I hit 20 next February. Aside from planning to shed 10 to 15kg, I'm going to attempt a mountaineering expedition. Specifically, Gunung Tahan! Simply because it's the toughest mountain trail in the country ( yes! more so than Mount Kinalablu even though Kinabalu is twice the height! ) . Hopefully I'll be able to do it in January, after my exams are over. I'll be doing the Kuala Tahan to Summit Tahan to Kuala Tahan (7days6nights -RM750 per pax).

Training isn't a question as every website hauntingly reminds that even a person of average fitness is not encouraged to attempt the hike.

hooohho challenge!

nak join?

On the way to Shamine's place, Amin told me how he and his classmates had a lunch/karaoke session the other day. Is it me or is everyone else's classmates are much closer with each other compared to my own? My classmates never hang out together. Even if we do, it takes hours of planning and much disagreement. None of us ever go somewhere together spontaneously, heck even lunching as a class is rare unless its a birthday or something. Every class is made of a mixture of smart , average, and not so smart students. Its perfectly normal right? Not in my class. The "smart" doesn't seem to want to hang out with the rest. My class has the least amount of students compared to the rest, yet we're all the least close to each other. Other classes or intakes have class trips and outings. Mine doesn't. It cant be because we're pure science students, "having no time for fun because we're all too busy studying", because other pure science students from other intakes werent so biased with each other like how we are.



2 years and I'm stuck with selfish, shallow and extremely peckish people.

DAMN YOU MENSTRUAL ACNE.

my hair has mutated into strands of icky greasy licks. These days they tend to stay frizzy making me look like I've been permanently struck by lightning.

My parents have left, they called to say their goodbyes ,on their way to the airport. I dont understand how my parents can be all mushy on skype but as soon as their feet are firmly on Malaysian soil, they dont even call, let alone drive over to see me. Instead leaving me a packet, thick with bills, with a note on the envelope saying " Sofiyah : To last"

As soon as my physics lecturer walked into our class, questions were thrown at him on how the competition went. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was going to give us all a little "ampau" for Raya if he won, we genuinely hoped he would win after the hard work he put into it. He said his team did okay. It didn't sound like he won the first prize, but maybe a consolation one. Few seconds after, he asked me to follow him out of the classroom. Without reason I was panicky and started thinking the worst. In the corridor he handed me 36 RM1 notes and packets of "ampau".

"sophie this is the small ampau I promised your class. its nothing much, everyone's getting 2 ringgit each" , smiling nervously.
"oh okay, I'll pack them now at the common area", my heat rate back to normal.


Once I was done peeped through the classroom door and signalled. He came out and I asked if he wanted to distribute the ampaus. He left me to do it.

"oh wait, before you go.." , fumbling with his pockets
"yes, sir?"
"haa you get extra"
"haha sir? seriously? why?~" , flustering.
"you're special. Good class rep, always helping me. Gave me Raya cookies", he laughed.
"gosh, thank you sir", I gushed. malu sial.
"don't tell your classmates you got more than them , if not I'll get it", he laughed.
"Oh I wont sir, don't worry"

I got 12 bucks. woooot! okay not much. tapi better than 2 bucks! bwahah