Monday, December 29, 2008

Salam Ma'al Hijrah 1430

Salam Maal Hijrah to all!
Especially to Muslimin Muslimat.

It's the 1st day of the Muslim New Year,
the new 'book' is opened, and the old one is closed
so people said.

Will we change, remain the same or become better?

May the year ahead be a prosperous one
filled with Khair, Barakah,
Rahmah, Happiness, Health,
Wealth, Success, Love and Peace

Please forgive us if we have said or done anything wrong
knowingly or unknowingly.

Hanafee & Sabrina
1 Muharram 1430 Hijrah

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Short Story Part 3

The James Morrison "You Make it Real" music played on my desktop, as i watch closely at the lyrics and their meaning. The symbolism and the metaphors. Slowly i closed my eyes wishing i could finish the article that i never thought id write. The covers on my bed were ruffled as i stood at the window looking across the edge of the window over looking the lake. For a moment i stood static relishing the beauty the of the freshly cleaned air distilled by the rain.

I leaned forward against my window with my elbows on the window sill, my cigarette in one hand seems to still retain its taste. For some, it offers that security that no matter what happens, it will never change. The bitter taste will always be there, seclusion and solitude of not sharing something that taste so vivid and alive with anyone. Your own personal cigarette. I glanced over my shoulder looking at my bed again, so enticed to continue that dream i was having. I exhaled disappointed with myself. Letting myself down again for the umpteenth time.

I looked again towards the laying lake in front of me focusing the pleasant serene holy passion of a real view in front of. The sound of piano music wakes me from my serene view as i realized that my handphone was ringing.

"Hello, Huzir speaking..." I said, sundays arent really good days for me.
"Zir, this is me....." A trailing shivering voice, familiar. But not familiar enough for me to recognize.
"Who is this again?" I asked trying to be polite, not wanting to offend.
"Its me... Faizal..."
"Zal... oh my god its been ages since i heard from you..." Happy for a moment...
"Zir... we'll catch up later... i need your help... Im in trouble... big trouble.." I sway away from my estaticness for a moment to realize it was panic in his voice.

I hung up the phone and quickly ran out the house picking up my car keys on the living room table and rushed to my car. I got into my car with these visions in my head of the kinds of problems he might be facing.... My head wandered to the past.

Sitting together by the beach with a fire behind us, and two of our closest friends sleeping in the back on the mat in open air. Sipping the bottled drinks in our hands gently listening to the waves crushing against the beach. Under the moon lit beach we both sat looking out into the ocean. We were 17, it was a trip we didnt plan, eating whatever we could find and staying away from home for the next 5 days. I sat there cigarette in hand with my bottle half buried in sand. He lit up a cigarette.

"You know sometimes when i think about the four of us...." He said suddenly as i turned to listen.
"Sometimes i get scared, i get scared that one day, we might never be like this anymore, we might forget just how much we mean to each other. We might stop remembering the bloods we've spilled to protect each other, the tears we've cried for each other... the stories we stop telling people because we get old and forget... forgettting us...."
"Thats never gonna happen... you know that..." I said trying to sound sure. But in truth, i wasnt.
"How do you know?" He said huffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth.
"Coz we're too stupid to live by ourselves. We're gonna always need each other. I mean look at those idiots sleeping, i mean come on. If your gonna sleep in public in open space the least you could do is not show the world what you've got hiding in your pants" I said jokingly as we both turned and laughed at Farid's erection.

We stopped and kept smoking.

"Zir... I want you to remember something... No matter what happens... no matter how long we lose contact from each other... i want you to know that you can find me anytime... if you need my help.... you my brother... youre not just a friend... youre my brother...."

I looked at him smiled and nodded. Faizal was that kind of friend. The older brother you went to for advice. He might not have had his life together but he gave good advice and all three of us looked up to him.

"Zal... no matter how far apart we grow from each other.... i will always be this guy you had a drink and a cig with... i will always be you friend...."

It has been 5 years since i heard from him and i still remembered that promise. The promise we made again the next day after the other two idiots were awake. We took an oath at dawn to the moon and the sun that nothing would ever broke part our friendship. Im honoring it now.

You forget that often at times you are tested by the terms and rules and conditions the world and fate has set for you. But somehow, that night on that beach, the morning we all promised, we all wanted it. We all wanted to tied by the burden of an oath so true that we live it today. That we would drop everything else we were doing just because they asked us to. Just because we knew we had to. Just because we knew we wanted to. Just because we promised to do so.

This is when all that happened in the past mattered, the stories, the drinks, the laughs, the over-running feel of familiarity. Today though, together embroidered with those feelings were nerves, fear and wonder. Will we all be the same when we finally meet? Will we all be able to look at each other, and still remember that a not so long time ago, we could have died for each other. That not so long ago, we defied others so we could be, Ourselves. Forever the lords of our own fate, and the fate of three others we so solemly promised.

Cyberspace Tombstone

Looking at the horizon,
Endless field of words,
A sea of idioms,
A star-lit sky of stories,
Unhinged and unchanged by time....

Often more than not you go back,
to see whether the wound has completely healed,
Whether the words you had misspelled anonymously,
can no longer hurt,

You're surprised not by the changing times and tide,
but how static your words are,
how they've seemed to make a home there,

A simple moment of trying to re-write,
The simple idiotic mind that you were in when you wrote it,
you hid it,
not wanting others to find out,
why hide in cyberspace?

If words could hurt,
mine would kill,
yours could just kill....
a reminder of the past that haunts us,
the past that might kill me,

So i lay,
looking at my own tombstone,
engraved on another mans words,
but on the stone of my death,
the stories you wrote,
is my ending,
so let me hide mine,
in my own way of forever unknown,
backing from the throne that was once mine.

Because your final words,
were my cyberspace tombstone.

p/s - Okay.. for literature enthusiasts!!! I challenge all of you.. what does this poem mean????? hahahahhaha

and p/s - Couldnt find the picture for this post... a tombstone seems so gloomy

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


15 December 2008
Internship started.

How was my first day? - Ok
And second day? - Good
Details? - Will be updated by Shuwa.

Lots of info for the first day
I had to squeeze my eyes and mind to remember key words
and colleagues' names.

Oh, we are assigned to Commissioning Department,
under Database Section
which means we will play with databases a lot!!
Aja aja fighting!!!

Night night.
Need to sleep early.
Need to wake up early.

written by,

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Short Story Part 2

The cold breeze woke me from my deep sleep. Realizing I was still on the bus without any idea where i was. Since I had no idea where i was, i decided to fall back to sleep. Then suddenly i was overwhelmed by a strong scent. I tried hard to figure out where the scent came from. Tilting my head downward a bit, I realized it came from my shirt. The smell of something familiar.

It had been years since i had smelt that scent. Slowly i whiffed my shirt again, as tears began rolling down my cheeks. I closed my eyes and flashes of it played in my head, like memories from an old movie. Frame by frame of laughing, tears of joy, the laughter, the screaming in joy and agony and defeat. The stinging feeling of defeat.

Four brothers huddled around an old carrom board, with their mother sitting on the sofa. Its odd isnt it, that smile your mother has when she sees all her children together having fun. Its, indescribable. I dont think any civilization was able to come up with a word for it. No adjectives, no pro-nouns, and you can only understand it by looking at that smile.

The four brothers. Different yet alike. Unique in their own little way and the same in that cliched manner. They were the stuff of legends filled with humility. The story that would fill the empty pages of history for tomorrow.

"Zir, what are you thinking about?" My mother startled me.
"You off dreaming about that princess of yours?" my oldest brother intervenes as always.
"Scared shes gonna run off with another guy?" Youngest brother toying with my all so familiar insecurities.
"Probably left this loser already" My witty second older brother as they all burst out laughing.

I smiled, meaningful, so true that my family detect that my thoughts were more important than jokes as they held their breath for my explanation.

"I was thinking, how this feels a lot like.... a lot like home...." They all looked at me as my mother rubbed my hair and kissed my forehead and as my brother looked at each other. Realizing the important idea i had just brought up.

Home is not where you sleep every night, its where you come home to remember the past, live in the present and hope for a better tomorrow. Home is where you are reminded just how important family is, because despite every argument and contradictions, nothing is more important than those who sits with you, and enjoys that same feeling with you. A home is where its okay to be an idiot and have people around to laugh with you about it. A home is a bunch of people eating the same food together. A home is where your mom is... well at least most of the time. More importantly, a home is only a home when you feel like its home. If the people in it and around it make it feel like home. Home is not having to understand what has changed or how are things different. Home is when you look at your brothers and mother and think... This feels like home.

p/s - Happy Eidil Adha my brothers, our time was brief but it made me remember how amazingly like home we felt finally.....

read part one here
read part two here

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Twilight & Selamat Pagi Cinta

3 stars for movie.
It's full of awkwardness but it also makes u stay till the end.
4 stars for all the vampires in the movie.
All vampires (both good and evil) are like so sooo COOL...
and 5 stars for EDWARD CULLEN character!!!!!
A protective boyfriend is HOT.
Trust me.
Coz I have one.

Dukacita ingin dimaklumkan bahawa
walaupun dibintangi pelakon-pelakon yang hebat
Filem Selamat Pagi Cinta

Anda akan tak sabar nak keluar dari panggung wayang.
Salah siapa ni?
Pelakon atau skrip atau pengarah?

Sabrina dan Hanafee akan menonton filem melayu di panggung
hanya jika filem itu dari
Yasmin Ahmad
Kabir Bhatia


written by,

Monday, December 1, 2008

Pengorbanan Seorang Perempuan

bangun tidur
sapu lantai bilik
mop lantai bilik
sapu lantai bilik kali ke-2 (bile lantai dah kering)
cuci toilet bilik
buang sampah bilik
letak plastik sampah yang baru
dah habis kemas bilik
boleh mandi dengan senang hati

Pergh... ni baru satu bilik kecik...
belum bilik besar lagi...
belum masuk bilik-bilik lain lagi...
belum masuk toilet-toilet lain lagi...
belum kira ruang tamu lagi...
belum kira dapur lagi...
belum kira halaman rumah lagi...

kalau rumah kecik.. macam senang, ye tak??

belum rumah besar lagi..
belum rumah besar 2 tingkat lagi..
kalau orang tu rumah 3 tingkat cenggane??!!


patutlah orang-orang kaya ada pembantu rumah..
patutlah surirumah yg takde pembantu rumah mengadu kepenatan..
kemas rumah lagi...
kene jaga anak anak lagi...
masak lagi...
jaga kecantikan diri supaya suami senang hati lagi...
itu kalau isteri duk rumah tak bekerja..

kalau bekerja???


patutlah kadang-kadang perempuan terlepas pandang bab-bab kebersihan rumah...bab anak..bab masak..bab kecantikan diri.
sebab banyak benda nak kene fikir, nak kena urus.

patutlah emak bising kalau cawan dah minum letak bersepah..
patutlah ibu bising kalau bilik tak kemas..
patutlah mama bising kalau sampah tak buang...
patutlah mommy bising kalau habuk rokok merata-rata
patutlah abah senyap je bila mak bebel sebab dia pun buat bende salah yang sama macam anak dia... hahahha
patutlah mak sedih bila anak anak tak dengar kata... =(

sebab....mengemas itu penat okay??!!!
sebab jadi surirumah itu penat okay??
sebab jadi perempuan itu leceh okay??

apa?? saya comot?? sapa suh saya fikir macam macam??

awak uruskan rumah sendiri.
awak uruskan makan pakai awak sendiri.
awak uruskan perangai akhlak anak anak.
awak uruskan kewangan keluarga.
awak uruskan bil bil semua.

saya boleh relax.
saya boleh buat rambut. saya boleh buat kuku. saya boleh buat duit.
peduli apa saya kalau rumah terumbang ambing, anak anak nakal.
yg penting, isteri cantik, awak bangga.
pastu lelaki lain bawak lari
awak mahu itu?


hehe. maaf. entri ini sebenarnya pasal kebersihan. termasuk hal rumah tangga pulak. hahahhahaha.

macam sudah kahwin pulak.
*gelak hell lagi*

marilah menghargai pengorbanan ibu, emak, mama, ummi, mommy
marilah menghargai pengorbanan isteri

marilah menjaga kebersihan.

*kenyit mata*