On the way home just now, we passed a mosque, and I caught sight of a man praying. For some reason it gave me a great sense of comfort, and a pang of what seems to be regret or remorse.

I've pondered about it, I think this is the farthest I've been from Allah. This is dangerous territory. I asked Him to please not let anything bad happen, because I don't know if my faith can hold steady against it.

How messed up is that? Me, who's never had any proper cause of despair, how can I be so weak that my faith is challenged even when nothing remotely bad has ever happened to me?

I think I've said this before, it's lonely when you don't allow yourself to properly turn to God. When you don't have a solid grip on your iman, when your faith is slippery. My arrogance gets the best of me, I forget God except in times of need, I get angry at Him for petty reasons. At the same time I realize that I'm being ridiculous, beyond ridiculous. Sometimes I realize this and try to apologize. Other times, I feel apologizing is futile, because I've done this too many times, and Allah can't be bothered with me anymore.

Then, the dangerous territory. When you start wondering about the foundations of your religion. The logic of heaven and hell, of muslim and kafir, of dunia and akhirat. I question the workings of what I believe in. My cockiness turns me into a cynic.

For all that cynicism though, I realise that in the end I always turn to Allah. When I am scared, and find myself asking Him to protect me. When I am apologizing to Him right before I commit a sin.

I can't bring myself to properly talk to God anymore. Maybe it's shame.

But I can remember kneeling in front of the Kaabah. I remember that now. How did I get from that to this?

The worst times are during the mean reds. Life usually keeps me adequately occupied that I can forget about this, but then at one point I will suddenly be terrified for no apparent reason, and I will scramble around for something to hold on to or something to distract myself with, but it will be useless. I will once again get that feeling of dread where it seems like the end. At that moment, I will realise I am not ready to die, that I am scared shitless of the idea of death and what lies beyond it.

Why is it so hard. why is it so hard to feel God?

But I caught sight of a man praying at a mosque tonight, and something clicked in my heart. I'll try to remember to hold on to that, and to remind myself of the steadfast conviction I had kneeling in front of the Kaabah.

It's so hot. It's so hot and my air-cond is blowing lukewarm air. I tried the air-cond in the living room and it was blowing lukewarm air as well.

Conundrum: What do you do when you are hot and your air-cond, which, for lack of servicing, fails to cool you?

Solution: You sneak into your brother's bedroom, which has a newer air-cond and is thus still capable of fulfilling its duty honourably.

My brother's asleep, so I'm sitting here in his dark room, depending on his tidur-matiness to not wake up from slumber and accuse me of disturbing him. But he's tossing and turning rather too suspiciously, so I better skedaddle back to my room.

You know what scares me? The fact that I dread work. I don't want to go to work tomorrow. Would I want to quit if given the chance? yes. And that scares me, because is this what it all comes down to? All that turmoil during SPM, and the conflict over the correct educational path, all my parents' money wasted, it all boils down to a qualification that allows me to work in a job that makes me unhappy? Can you say SHITCAKES?

I'm getting ahead of myself, though.

I stumbled across a blog which managed to hit the jackpot of emotions, in that it evoked that feeling. The one where I feel like life is muffled. There's the world out there, in all it's Technicolor glory, but I am in a hole. I don't think I wanted to be in here in the first place, but I am, and the older I get, the more I don't want to get out.

So yeah, that was one pretty damn interesting blog.

Thank God it's Friday.

Ryan Adams, Call Me On Your Way Back Home

And I just wanna die without you
Oh I just wanna die without you

I was Fat Charlie

I am just an extra body at the office today, so let’s talk (i.e. read my time-wasting writings). Fair warning: This is an overly-extensive and rambling narration of my day yesterday.

I wake up late as usual.

It takes me two hours to get to the office. I become like all those other drivers who look as if life has been sucked out of them via traffic jam Dementors. On the way I encounter some kid (yes, suddenly all P drivers are kids even though they are only about a couple years younger than me) who won’t let me get into a lane, thus making me angry to a point I am driven to flash a finger at him (don’t worry, I don’t normally do this, and he could only have seen it if there had been an amazing coincidence between him glancing into his rearview mirror and me sticking my finger out). I notice that my teeth and jaw have subconsciously lock into gritting position.

I get to the office, inquire where I’m suppose to go, and find out the client’s place is right smack in the middle of KL. I google map the place, get directions, and choose a route that’s supposed to get me there in 20 minutes. Sprint highway, Duta highway, Jalan Duta, Jalan Kuching, Jalan Sultan Ismail. Easy enough.

40 minutes later, I find that I’ve ended up at Batu Caves. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

I am a horrible, horrible navigator.

*Cerita selitan: After I was done mapping out my route, I started packing up my stuff to go, and that’s when I noticed the right corner of my laptop bagpack was wet. My water bottle had miraculously uncapped and spilt quarter of its contents. Awesome.

I finally get to the place, park, struggle with my things, sign in at reception, and make my way up. I do some menial work, go have lunch with two people who speak a different language, then I have to transfer my stuff to a different part of the office. I walk with my senior, in front of me is some guy talking to a salesperson. He starts walking away, while still talking to the salesperson, and bumps into me, treading heavily on my foot. I hold out a hand to steady him, and say sorry (even though it was his fault!). The fucker doesn’t apologize nor does he acknowledge mine.

I spend the rest of the day holed up in a room, trying to match interest rates to bank contracts. I screw up a few times, miss a couple of obvious points in front of my senior, and generally feel like an incapable twat.

Work finally comes to an end, I’m let off, and I start walking back the carpark. On the way there I pass a Starbucks and make a beeline for the counter to get a ridiculously priced but fantastic-tasting frappuccino. It is a waste of money, but it has been a trying day and I cannot deny that once I’ve drunk a dark mocha frappuccino, I tend to have a stupid grin on my face for at least an hour afterwards. I suppose it’s the whole combination of coffee and chocolate, it stimulates happy hormones.

I pay the ridiculous sum for my drink, go to pay for my parking ticket at the machine, and discover that I have spent the major chunk of my small change on the frappuccino bertuah and don’t have enough left to pay for the ticket. MANGKUK AY-

No matter! The frappuccino begins to work its magic and I cheerfully disregard this mishap and go to a handy ATM nearby to withdraw.

I cross the deserted carpark towards my car(casting a weary eye around, of course. The combination of a silent carpark, newspaper stories and an active imagination keeps me adequately vigilant, hopefully).

I drive off, and try to figure out how to get back. By that time, it’s getting dark, I see the bright lights of the city, I see what are presumably tourists walking around, I sing along to the radio, and generally all is well with the world (I told, you frappuccinos are magical). I end up using the Sungai Besi way to get home. I drive, I drive, I miss the exit heading to Puchong. I drive, I drive, and reach the turning to the lumba kuda roundabout, see congestion, impulsively decide to drive pass. I miss another turning, there is no u-turn, and somehow I end up in Bangi.

BANGI???

I am a horrible, stubborn navigator. BANGI?

I desperately turn back, follow all signs to Puchong, get led onto a different highway, waste petrol and toll money, and finally end up at that familiar stretch of road in front of IOI mall. I follow the familiar road, get to the correct residential area, wave to the security guard who lifts the divider up for me, and reach home.

Home to kickass Mom-cooked bayam masak sup and udang masak sambal. All is well.

Swedish people must be awesome

I am sometimes such an embarrassment, just by being. When I am, I feel like I want to burst out laughing, I can't stop smiling.At the exact same moment, I want to walk into a wall, or at the very least bang my head repeatedly against it.

Hi anna, happy belated birthday! Sorry for the late wish, and sorry I'm too much of a confused chicken shit to email you personally. I chose the pathetically open medium of a blog instead.

TGIF tomorrow! Last weekend, I spent my Saturday sleeping 13 hours, it was beautiful.

In a nutshell:

1. Attacks on churches:not cool.

2. Sleeping in on Saturday:cool.

3. Watching korean pop videos on Channel V:Cool.

4. Traffic jams with soulless people who speed up when you want to switch into their lanes: Not cool.

5. Fynn Jamal's Balada Jiwa Perempuan Gila: Cool.

6. Conflict over the use of 'Allah':Not cool.

7. Kings of Convenience coming to KL: My God cool tak tahan.

8. The fact that they're coming once I've gone back to Melbourne:Not cool.

9. Rais Yatim: Not cool. (though if you were to ask me to demonstrate a solid foundation for my dislike, I probably wouldn't be able to do so. Which makes me a twat unfairly prejudiced against Rais Yatim. Sorry Rais Yatim!).

10. Jonna Lee & Ed Harcourt's And Your Love

Cool like awesome ice cubes. Enlightenment credits go to Kakak, of course.

11. Kelly back on Malaysian soil: Cool tak tahan jugak.

Ok. Bye.

Insaf! Insaf!

Good grief.

The next thing you know, I'll be writing sappy love songs that were meant to be sung by Siti Nurhaliza circa 1997, with titles like Penjara Percintaan and Kelambu Kasih.