The Colours of Moon

Moving

2011-08-27T03:15:00.003+08:00

Hi everyone, I am moving to a new, shiny place on my own website. My new blog is here!

Update your links!

I will update on how you can subscribe to my new blog... once I figure out how.... being on blogspot for so long, I am not familiar with WP. heh.

Anyways, hope to see you there! Leave your thoughts in the comment section... (does anyone actually read this blog anyways haha -_-" )

Listen to Yourself

2011-08-26T22:24:00.000+08:00

You spend your days playing child
curled up by your bedside
"I can't do this," you said,
all those mysteries locked in your head... don't you want to know?

Crackle open your mind, decode with your vision
taste with your tongue, listen to yourself.
All those mysteries locked in your head... don't you want to know?

Running lights can pass you by, before any choice was given
don't waste your time, just listen to yourself.
All those mysteries locked in your head... don't you want to know?

Just listen to yourself
every second you scream out
every minute is a burn out
every hour is a fallout
every day is just about
the same as your whole life
are you too frail to wander out?

Just listen to yourself
you don't have much time, stretch out and listen
beyond your bones, listen to yourself.

some of my latest drawings

2011-07-28T10:19:00.005+08:00

I am now available for drawing commissions. Shoot me an e-mail at munira.hmz at gmail.com.

To keep up with my updates, you can head to my facebook page.

I'm currently editing my website, and I am having troubles re-linking my blog. Anyone know a solution?

wordly wishlist

2011-07-16T01:53:00.004+08:00

I have limited tools. All I've got is pen and paper, and my beloved scanner. Although currently it suffices, I'd be lying if I say I don't have a wishlist. And so, to encourage myself to create more art and start saving money (so I can create more art)... here is my wishlist:

1) Wacom graphics tablet

I've borrowed my friend's Bamboo Fun, and it was indeed, so much fun. This will make a lot of stuff easier, and open up many new possibilities. Design work, digital painting, animation... so much easier. Any model would do.

2) Canon DSLR camera

We have one at home, it takes decent pictures, an old 350D. However, I really want to explore the moving image medium and experiment with video. I've been in love with this medium since high school but never had the equipment to try out my ideas. Any camera will do, a 550D for it's price is good enough for me. The dream would be a 5DMII but that seems like a long way off. Also with this item in the wishlist, comes along all the other camera contraptions.

3) microphone

So I can experiment more with poetry and complement the videos with audio narrative. Our laptops at home are ancient and have no such feature. (Actually my mom's does but the quality is just not good)

4) painting easel

A basic. Would really come in handy (and keep the floor clearer everytime I make a painting. Which to think about it, has been quite a long while... heh.)

5) my own desktop pc

Currently I share it with my sister.

6) my own studio

in my dream house. key word: dream. hahaha.

Also, I really really need to update this blog layout. It's 3 years old and in need of serious renovations.

The Heritage Race!

2011-06-26T12:04:00.008+08:00

Come on and register to enter the Heritage Race in conjunction with Heritage Studies Annual Exhibition 2011! Learn lots of new things whilst having fun! A grand cash prize waiting to be won =)

haaa ni poster baru! with date correction :) 28 June 2011

Heritage Studies Annual Exhibition 2011

2011-06-21T19:12:00.006+08:00

Do come to our Heritage Studies Annual Exhibition 2011, documenting our journey across 4 countries - Malaysia (Pekan, Pahang), Indonesia (Surabaya), Bangladesh (Dhaka), and Iran (Isfahan).

I'm from the Dhaka group and the video above is the Dhaka trailer from our group. Come to the exhibition and you'll see and learn much much more!

Dhaka, pt. 2

2011-05-19T20:02:00.003+08:00

This video and song was made by my friend, Kayant, about our memorable experience in Dhaka.

Dhaka, pt.1

2011-05-10T18:39:00.006+08:00

photos by syzwn asyrf

Eyes

2011-04-02T20:48:00.005+08:00

If my eyes were planets
one would be mars
and venus would be the other
dry red desert, scarred
or volcanic, atmospheric sulfur

If my eyes could catch and kill
a venus flytrap would know the thrill
but my eyes are dry like mars
catch and kill, it never will

My eyes were the lost well
surrendered to the darkness of the night
open but never found
reflecting the shadowed moonlight

National Poetry Month

2011-04-01T13:42:00.009+08:00

Today is the first day of April, which is National Poetry Month (in Canada and the US, but the rest of the world can join in too) and what we do is write a poem a day for the month of April. It may border on the quantity side of production rather than quality, but in light of my piece called WRITE, I will honour the mere mad pleasure that is writing from the top of your head.

So here goes.

peeling lips

tapping toes

no humour or wit

no rhyme nor prose

broken grammar

upon blank paper

someone call the poet doctor

but he says "I've got nothing to offer."

where do we go?

no one knows

*shrug*

I could drive you insane

with all these clichés

I'm no Rumi, no Angelou, no Bronte, no Poe

but, well, April, I say here goes.

*edit*

Do join in the discussion and online poetry session for Poetry Month on kata.mata, our own little poetry group!

Starry Night

2011-03-31T19:33:00.001+08:00

In Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night, reaching for the skies.

"You were born with potential.

You were born with goodness and trust.

You were born with ideals and dreams.

You were born with greatness.

You were born with wings.

You are not meant for crawling, so don’t.

You have wings. Learn to use them and fly."

-Rumi

Cerita si Bulan

2011-03-30T00:32:00.000+08:00

-written 2009

The Glass

2011-03-29T10:23:00.000+08:00

What's keeping up your illusions?

What is keeping me inside?

It's the Glass.

The glass that we so precariously wear over ourselves, a thinly veiled substance of illusions and security. We dance to the sound of their tinkling, softly ringing hymns to our ears.

-a draft I found amongst my posts, from 2009

The Night Dancer

2011-03-03T03:50:00.000+08:00

She stays up way past night

Pondering upon the red lights

Eyes taking in the violet haze

Freely flowing the blood in her veins

As windows creak and her bones dance

Dripping in the remainders of the rain

So fluid, her blanket,

Sheets of laughter in the dark of the night

Alone pondering upon the red lights

Caught in a daze of violet haze

Not a cloud in sight, yet she sings

Of hearts that break and blind romance

Her graceful bittersweet refrains

No ruins, no hatchet

To unbury and yet millions of wars to fight

Fingers and bones dancing livid in the night

Toes barely gracing earth’s face

Her heart shivering with no restraint

All love, all hatred

2011-02-27T05:02:00.001+08:00

I could write a cliche

about how I lie awake

thinking of you

or I could fall asleep

and whisk into a dream

of a sky black and blue.

Dream people

2011-02-17T16:27:00.008+08:00

I realise I have strange dreams involving random people. I wonder if the souls I met in my dreams are actually real people, real souls adrift in time and space, as their dreaming souls detach from their body and collide in a world mimicking reality from a psychedelic dreamer's tinted lenses.

Most of my dreams tend to involve people, whether I know them in real life and meet them everyday, someone I once knew but haven't met or thought about in years, or even random strangers I've never met and unsure whether they exist.

I met an Indian girl in my dreams once, and she told me her whole life story. She had caramel skin and soft dark brown flowing tresses. I never directly spoke to her. It was like I was a distant soul watching her life from afar. All the drama that untangled and all the mundane ordinariness.

Last night I dreamt I had tonsilitis and went to the clinic to see a throat doctor. The doctor had a name. Dr. E. He was funny and very friendly, almost too friendly, and had a weird power over me. I woke up perplexed.

I always wake up perplexed. I once dreamt of an old acquaintance I haven't met or thought about in years, one who has descended into a path much too far from my own. In my dream, however, she looked different, but normal. No signs of black lips and blood or the smug look of hate. Instead, she had a turqouise scarf on and we went bowling. Perfectly random. I woke up perplexed.

I had even met a girl I've never met before in my dream, only to meet her a few weeks later.

These dreams had me wondering, if a random stranger walked into my dream unceremoniously, do I wander into people's dreams as well? The topic of dreams always fascinates me.

People are always in my dreams. What does that describe about me? I am people-oriented? I doubt it. I am almost anti-social when you think about it. I am a hermit...well, maybe not entirely, but a butterfly is a fit description. I do like to observe people. From afar.

ok, end nonsensical rant.

WRITE

2011-02-07T10:02:00.016+08:00

Write.

Don't think too much.

Don't think about how you want to sound.

Don't compose sentences perfectly.

Don't save for later.

Write.

Write whatever is on your mind, whatever is on your chest. Although sometimes the speed of your words are much too fast compared to the speed of your writing. Hands gripping pen with ink barely scratching the surface of the pages, racing to meet the end of your thoughts.

Just write whatever. Like pages are the recording tape of your thoughts. Just keep them rolling. As fast as your hands can. Don't care about your ugly handwriting. Barely legible, never pretty. Never mind the ache in your wrists.

The static in your head.

The ringing in your ears.

The pacing of your chest.

The missing letters, the missplled words, the punctuation, the structure, the poetic sense, common sense.

Just write.

Write to keep your chest clear, your head well spaced.

Write like there is no tomorrow. Write like you are writing a letter to your future self, and you only have a second to write it all down. Write like its the last day on earth for you, and your son is at sea waiting for your bottle.

Write even though it doesn't make sense.

What ever makes sense?

Write even if you keep repeating yourself over and over. Write even if you don't know what to write about. Write even if no one will read. Write like there is no care on earth. Write all you care for on earth.

Just keep the ink flowing, whether it's physical or pixelled. Write like the ink is your blood, and the pages are your vessel, your heart. You don't write, you can't breathe.

Write cliches. Write all the cliches in the world.

Write something different. Something random. Something profound. Something stupid. Something nostalgic.

Don't compose your thoughts. Just write like you are in a race. You are. You always are in a race. Race yourself to the finish line. There is no finish line. Unless you die. So write as long as you live, account every breath for a word. Your story has been written by God, but you've never read it, so write. Just write.

Write on every surface you can find. On a tablecloth, on a tissue, on your hand, even on your face. Write in your sleep. Write down your dreams. Upon waking up, write down everything you can remember. What a waste a dream might be, an ethereal moment fleeting as each second your eyes flutter awake. Repeat. Write even if it doesn't make sense. Write even when you are interrupted. Write in your mind, a canvas, a painting. Write as you speak. Write as you listen. Write with any idea that pops into your mind. Write in any language you know. Write even if it may be wrong. Write even if you may sound like a schoolchild. Write like a schoolchild. Innocence and naiveté is something we all should preserve, even if only a little bit. Don't lose your words, lose yourself in a sea of words. Write with no ending, only chapter upon chapter upon chapter.

Write even as your fingers race across the keys, across pages, feeling numb, your arms like wooden pegs. Write because you life might depend on it. Write every good memory, every bad memory, every lesson learnt, every hope and every dream.

Start with one word and string them together like beads on a never ending necklace. Wear it with pride, pendant of soul, a jewel of mind.

Write because words are one of the most precious gifts we've been given. Write even if it may not do anything you are writing about justice. Write even when people are being pretentious. Write down when you are speechless. Write even when your sentences all begin with the same word.

Take a break from writing, but even then, your mind is still writing. Your full-stop is not a stop. Your sentences continue off the pages, accumulate into a cloud of words soon to rain down on the nearest word-vent. Harvest the rain. Write. Save yourself and write.

I know I may not be the best writer, but no one will ever be. We all know who the best writer is and it is for Him that we live, we write, we breathe, we read.

-Munira, a freewrite originally scrawled in journal on 6th February 2011 to escape from writer's block.

Empty studio (a freewrite)

2010-12-24T17:33:00.000+08:00

The room rattled, its walls shaking as the wind blew papers off the desks. The distant sound of traffic painted a backdrop for the unmistakable silence that bore over the grid laid-out studio. Chairs creaked under the wave of the distant traffic noise and a looming rainstorm. I looked out of the windows, lined up across the room, opened wide to the beautiful view of swaying trees beckoning to the majestic hills. Hills that looked like a pre-historic animal's backbones, laid across the land as a guard, or of white elephants lined up, vines crawling over them. A window pane slammed shut in the wind. A bird flew past the landscape. A fan, in the corner of the studio, gently rotated in the fingers of the wind despite the fact that it was switched off. I began to ponder whether I should help and pick up the boards and papers that flew about and landed on the floor. I was, after all, alone in my seniors' studio. "Where is everyone?" I thought. A car beeped, its doors unlocked as thunder boomed in the distance. The sound of metal crashing broke the scene, and it must have been a construction piece that fell, I thought. The car engine started. How good it is to be going back now. I wish I didn't have a meeting tonight. A second engine started. A bus rolled by. All of this I saw with my ears. I thought to myself, this is nice. Being alone, enjoying some evening wind with the distant sounds providing a soundtrack. Writing this is good exercise. I have not written descriptive, narrative essays in so long. I glanced over to the white elephant hills, wishing to climb it again. Framed between the black window frames and my seniors' modelling boards, it stood proud. It is going to be the backdrop for my current project. My phone beeped. I smiled. I suddenly remembered, I came here to borrow a charger.

(originally scrawled in my notebook about 10 minutes ago, written just as soon as each thing I observed happened. :p)

Paper Money

2010-12-18T08:38:00.004+08:00

"A writer never forgets the first time he accepted a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story. He will never forget the sweet poison of vanity in his blood, and the belief that, if he succeeds in not letting anyone discover his lack of talent, the dream of literature will provide him with a roof over his head, a hot meal at the end of the day, and what he covets most: his name printed on a miserable piece of paper that will surely outlive him. A writer is condemned to remember that moment, because from then on he is doomed and his soul has a price."

-opening paragraph from “The Angel’s Game” by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

What is the price of a soul? If we put our souls into everything we make, does it have a price on it? We write for convenience, our minds too much of a labyrinthine for us to not get lost in our thoughts. We write for convenience, our words drawing lines of a map, tracing the edges of our thoughts, the brim of our emotions, the hustle and bustle of the city we call our mind. A map that shifts and changes, like watching the evolution of a landscape from the dawn of creation, the wars that danced across it, the lives that flashed before it, the buildings that grew upon it.

We write because we can, we write because we can't. We write because of and in spite of our lack of words, our inability to imitate the beauty of God's lyrics. We write across faces, across hearts, across skies, across pixels, across pieces of paper. We consume thoughts, we vomit words.

We read, we criticize. A small child born out of wordlock, a soulchild of its wordparent, condemned to a corner in the room.

We buy words, but they never become our own. The soul of the writer scrawled across the pages are just a map of their world, like a map we trace with our fingers, but never arrive at. Like a photograph of a star, so near yet so far.

I write not knowing where I'd arrive. I simply write, like a drunk man stumbling along the sidewalk.

And when someone compliments me on my writing, it is like a drunk man being handed money to buy another intoxicating glassful.

November Pictures - Maryam had a Little Lamp

2010-12-14T10:46:00.006+08:00

My sister Maryam, who loves nursery rhymes.

November Pictures - Amin Sisters

2010-12-14T10:29:00.003+08:00

Photos I took for fun during the holidays, with these gorgeous sisters.

Above, from left to right: Khodijah, Fatimah, Aishah

The Middle

2010-12-14T09:44:00.002+08:00

not cool enough to be undeniably cool

not nerdy enough to be a cool nerd

not stupid enough to be able to get away with anything

not smart enough to be able to get away with anything

not gentle enough to be ideally feminine

not bad-ass enough to be truly bad-ass

not poor enough to matter

not rich enough to matter

not talentless enough to not be interested

not talented enough to be a talent

not weird enough to be proclaimed a genius

not normal enough to be… well, normal

not fashion-obsessed enough to want to be a fashionista

not bad-ass enough to not care about clothes at all

not happy enough to be ecstatic

not sad enough to be depressed

not unknown enough to be invisible

not famous enough to be credited for

not shy enough to get away with being a wallflower

not friendly enough to be in a party

not carefree enough to be problem-free

not problematic enough to actually complain

I’ve been complaining about not being able to complain. Are we never satisfied?

I’m sure a lot of people are in the middle. Just like me. And that fact makes us feel even less special. Ahahaha.

For the most part, I’m happy being me, but sometimes I forget. Maybe because I’m not the best that I can be. Strive, girl. Happiness is what counts most, screw the other unimportant worldly things.

deviantArt Birthday & websites

2010-12-02T11:40:00.007+08:00

NG Cheetah by ~toxicangel-moon on deviant ART

Today marks my 5th Deviantart birthday. This painting is the first deviation that I submitted. It was my proudest piece of work at the time, a painting done in the 9th grade (that's form 3) in 2004, on an A1 piece of art block paper. It's based on a National Geographic picture. Yes, I've always loved cats. I don't have it with me anymore, because a parent bought it in 2005. If it looks childish, that's because it is...

5 years on deviantart got me reminiscing about websites. I know, it sounds scarily viva-electronica to be reminiscing about websites, but that's the truth of our living conditions in this day and age.

The first website I used was msn, of course. I made my hotmail when I was in grade 3. I still have it but dear God I don't use it anymore. It's become a farmhouse for spam, I'm afraid. Ahaha...

Neopets! I loved neopets like any nerdy kid did back then. I checked on them daily and played the games to earn money for my dear babies. I entered my Meerca in the beauty contest a couple of times, always ending up in 4th place justthismuchcloser to getting third. Heh. I wonder how my neopets are nowadays. Starving to death, probably. Poor creatures.

Then there were angelfire and tripod, back in the days before blogging became de rigueur. I was so proud of the stupid websites that I made, so proud of the html that I knew. Which is a language kind of ancient in today's languages of coding, what with css and xml and whatnot. Those websites also have been deleted since. Pity. Would have been kinda funny to look at them.

Then we had the social networking sites. And at that time I had hi5 (really lame, I know), friendster and myspace. I had a blog on friendster in which I vented out a LOT of things. When I deleted my friendster, the blog also went with it. Sad on my sentimental and nostalgic part, but good because it would have been kind of awkward if people were to read it now.

I had lookbook back in 2008 but I was so self-conscious and deleted it. Recently I had the courage and inspiration to sign up again.

See, all those sites kind of came and went for me, but deviantart is the only website from school era that I still use.

Of course later came gmail, blogger, flickr, facebook, and now tumblr.

Also, I need to update the layout to this blog. The last time I updated the layout was in 2008. It's gotten really messy now. Either that or finish making moonhmz.com already!

The skeletons, pt 1

2010-11-25T20:54:00.004+08:00

She was born, she was trapped, she was buried.

A premature ghost, painted by the soft rays of the moon seeping through the midnight air between the cracks of my window, she landed softly in the black strands of my hair, nestling deeper in the crooks of my mind. She found a friend in me, in my heart, in my story. We weaved veins of emotions and tales into a creature; a secret creature we called a child. She was born, she was trapped, she was buried. A premature ghost, again and again.

In the underworld crevices of my labyrinthine mind, there was a closet. A closet much like one which lead Lucy to Narnia, except with much less wondrousness and magic, similar only because of how the small closet held so much within. Beyond the doors of this closet, live my skeletons. I insist they are dead, they insist they live. I remind them, don't be silly, you are skeletons, you are dead! Every now and they they would knock on the closet door, insisting to be let out. I would allow no such thing. Occasionally, I can hear them singing jolly graveyard jives, with trombones made of bones, I'd imagine.

Sorrow Season

2010-10-30T22:22:00.009+08:00

She drew out the moon,
a half smile carved plain
a refrain;
disdain

She buried seeds
grief to sow
a grave to grow
she burnt leaves
to watch them glow
fire to eye,
please ignite my soul
eye to fire
blind by coal
singing to hide her
half smile.

Could she see that
leaves are
fire coloured
in the raving fall?
And ice melts
after winter time
and flowers crawl
after the rainfall?
And that the lights crawl back out
in the night
in the star holed sky
and the moonlight;
smile.

In the lake that she drew
to drown her sorrows in
hunger;
a monster

She swallowed deep
as ice froze
air gave to snow
summon the yeti
to hear him growl
fire to eye,
please ignite my soul
eye to fire
blind by coal
fighting to hide her
half smile.

Dragged feet
hanging low
crawling her way
across the floor
how could she have known
that sorrow season
was a creation of her own mind?
blind;
half smile.

Could she see that
leaves are
fire coloured
in the raving fall?
And ice melts
after winter time
and flowers crawl
after the rainfall?
And that the lights crawl back out
in the night
in the star holed sky
and the moonlight;
smile.

Smile.

The Honey Trees

2010-10-16T12:13:00.004+08:00

I came across this band a few days ago and have been addicted since. I love their songs, Becky's voice is so pleasing to listen to. They do sound like Eisley (whom of course I love to bits), but not as edgy. Probably a softer, girlier honey coated Eisley.

the video is lovely... can't wait till this semester is over.

Alma mater

2010-10-09T17:28:00.010+08:00

The graduates visit their old school,

the school on the hill amidst the trees,

almost buried under leaves,

full of countless fond memories...

what we once knew is gone

empty hallways haunted by bats,

floor strewn with broken glass,

but we hold on fast to all the memories that will last.

I miss this place as I remembered it.

But, onwards and upwards.

Back to work.

(picture heavy post)

Jap.

2010-10-08T18:25:00.002+08:00

Less than one week to go. :$

The consequence of sounds

2010-10-04T18:55:00.002+08:00

My rhyme ain't good just yet,
My brain and tongue just met,
And they ain't friends, so far,
My words don't travel far,
They tangle in my hair,
And tend to go nowhere,
They grow right back inside,
Right past my brain and eyes
Into my stomach juice
Where they don't serve much use,
No healthy calories,
Nutrition values.
And I absorb back in
The words right through my skin
They sit there festering inside my bowels
The consonants and vowels
The consequence of sounds
The consonants and vowels
The consequence of sounds

Got a soundtrack in my mind,
All the time. Kids-
Screamin' from too much beat up
And they don't even rhyme,
They just stand there, on a street corner,
Skin tucked in
And meat side out and shot,
And I'd like to turn them down
But there ain't no knob.
Run into picket fences
Not into picket lines.
All this hippie-shit for the 60's
And another cliche for our time. But,
But a one of these days your heart
Will just stop ticking,
And they sorta just don't find you till your cubicle is reeking.
The consonants and vowels
The consequence of sounds
The consonants and vowels
The consequence of sounds
Ahh ah ah ah ahh ah ah ah

Yes, miss Regina Spektor.

If I want to be like this too, I have to work for it.

2010-10-03T20:18:00.005+08:00

This is a photo post of my sister's convocation. I took a break from work to get all sweaty and take pictures of these lovely ladies. Enjoy!

ok back to work ;)

Facebook.

2010-10-02T10:12:00.000+08:00

I'm not on it.

see you later. got lots of work to do.

Extra Heart

2010-09-24T20:47:00.003+08:00

I feel like I need an extra limb

but what I really need is an extra heart

I keep thinking I could use a hand here

but what use would limbs be if they only shivered in fear?

I always wish I had more time

but time seems much too hard to buy

I'll waste wishing only on cold hard air

and what use would time be if I wasted it in nightmares?

I feel like I need an extra limb

but now I know what I really need

everyone could use an extra heart.....

something to take apart

criminals in their cells

making life a living hell

(something better than little white pills)

everyone could use an extra heart....

a little extra warmth

to melt those icebergs

in the way of their stream

(a little whisper to deafen the screams)

everyone could use an extra heart

symphony to the viens

drumming a little louder

singing a little stronger

extra heart, extra heart

hearts that beat a little faster

glass jars that don't shatter

when they slip from shivering hands

when they slip from shivering hands.

p/s: I really need to step up my game. Final year, Mun! Serious bizzniss! On another note, I have to figure out how to edit my layout on moonhmz.com because I want to start using it already!!!

2010-09-09T13:41:00.003+08:00

Say Bismillah, In the name of God,

As the priest does with knife when he offers an animal.

Bismillah your old self

to find your real name.

-Jalal ad-Din Rumi

No More Keeping My Feet on the Ground

2010-09-07T20:54:00.004+08:00

I am aiming and I need to chase this. Goals in life, academia, career, personal! Don't give up. Also, this is one of my favourite Coldplay songs, although a not very well known one. Like I don't love them all already anyway.

Sometimes I wake up, and I'm falling asleep,
And I think that maybe the curtains are closing on me,
But I wake up,
Yes I wake up,
Smiling.

Sometimes I feel overcharged, it's surprising,
Surprisingly good to be moving around,
So I wake up,
Yes I wake up,
Smiling.

So what? I feel fine,
I'm OK, I've seen the lighter side of life,
I'm alright, I feel good,
So I'll go, I'll try to start moving.

Sometimes I wake up, and I'm falling asleep,
And I've got to get going
So much that I wanted to do,
But I wake up,
Smiling.

And this could be my last chance,
of saving my innocence,
And this could be my last chance,
No more keeping my feet on the ground.

Sometimes I feel overcharged, it's surprising,
Surprisingly good to be moving around,
And I move,
And I wake up,
Smiling.

So what? I feel fine,
I'm OK, I've seen the lighter side of life,
I'm alright, I feel good,
So I'll go, well it's time to start moving.

And this could be my last chance,
I'm saving my only chance,
And this could be my last chance,
So no more keeping my feet on the ground.

I'm not gonna keep them,
I'm not gonna keep them down

Lost & Found

2010-09-05T00:58:00.007+08:00

Have you ever felt like there was a new way to be found?

One that didn't involve getting lost

or going around, round in circles?

stumbling upon a dead-end

in a row of identical houses?

Have you ever felt like there was a new way to be found?

One where you didn't have to shout?

have you ever thought

my darling dear friend,

that we were never really lost?

Oh honey

And if you think that you're lonely

you could come and find me

we were always alone

alone till we were found

but we were never lost

alone till we were found

but we were never lost

sunday 6th sept 1:15am

Little Soldier Boy

2010-09-01T04:17:00.003+08:00

Little soldier boy

said "I'm not going down

all the sticks and the stones that I'd thrown

I'm letting it be known

Blood red skies and the blue pride of wars

the circling eyes of post-apocalyptic dolls

copper wired limbs through threaded yarn

bytes of emptied souls with no reason

no reason to go on

It's not my future

I'm not going to turn

not going to run

my stone fists belong here

my heart beats in this ground

Bright blue skies and the red passionate hearts

burn like a disappearing prayer's call

falling on nothing but ears deafened by guns

bands of toy soldiers with no reason

no reason to go on

It's not my future

I'm not going to turn

not going to run

my stone fists belong here

my heart beats in this ground

Little soldier boy

said "Life must go on."

22 Ramadhan 1431

Little Soldier Boy v.1, by Moon

Love, pt.ii

2010-08-22T12:41:00.004+08:00

The Question

"Love. What's it all about?" -Qaisy Jaslenda

My Answer

"It's a mystery to me. But like all great mysteries, it's something we are all curious about and can't seem to let go. We dedicate so many things to this mystery, and some become totally disillusioned by it, while some who'd suffered the pain of it might conclude it's just a fable, a Loch Ness monster of the human's emotions.

This mystery seems to be about deeply caring for someone or something. Longing. This mystery has the power to alter the whole universe of the one who is experiencing it. For something so hard to grasp, it also happens to be about how natural a connection seems, that it's a mystery how these two souls ever lived without the presence of the other.

Love, it's about what definition it brings to each different person.."

Love, pt.i

2010-04-30T11:34:00.003+08:00

You think you're falling in love.

Love.

What's with that word, anyway?

People speak of it as if they know what it means. Some use it hypocritically, a word belying the fact that they are still empty inside, still lonely, yet they needed that assurance. Assurance of a so-called love.

I can't say I'm not guilty. As much as I critique people who use it so freely without yet a grasp of it, I have been guilty, too. And I'm ashamed of it. Ashamed that I, too, can fall into the trap of this singular world. Almost like an atheist praying to God, clasping their hands in hope, yet a few moments later their voices pray in sarcasm, eyes betraying them.

kata.mata's KATA.JUMPA

2010-04-18T12:37:00.002+08:00

for more info: KATA.JUMPA event page

The Inevitable

2010-04-15T22:01:00.006+08:00

Here is a post I copied from Aziera's tumblr:

a girl and a guy can be just friends , but at one point or another they will fall for each other . well maybe temporarily , maybe at the wrong time , maybe too late , or maybe forever .

Let's all ponder upon that, shall we. Urgh. Been there, done that. We can't help it, can we?

2010-04-12T13:05:00.002+08:00

I am not going anywhere this holiday, for I'm broke, dry as the Sahara desert. Yep.

Meanwhile I'm getting certain things done, which I just can't wait for it to launch. But I am such a newbie! Help!

Just wait. If you care about whatever it is I have up my sleeves, anyways.

Morning, awake, asleep.

2010-03-16T08:56:00.002+08:00

This morning I saw
a flicker of light out of the corner of my eye
Orange golden yellow, like a halo
aflame on the wings of a butterfly

I asked it if it was ok for it to stay
keep me company for awhile, just for awhile
Spin your threads around me, safely, securely
like a cocoon of beauty
like a spider's web in the morning dew.

Please, I ask of you.

It answered in the shape of a sky
azure and blue
in an orchestra of chaos
as the hum of the morning drum
played out it's beat.

Sleep, child, sleep.
Sleep but don't wish for me
when your line proceeds to die.

..
Moon
16/03/10
8am

Silver springs

2010-03-14T22:33:00.002+08:00

You could be my silver spring....
Blue-green..colors flashin'
I would be your only dream.....
Your shinin' autumn....ocean crashin'...

Immerse yourself in this lovely Fleetwood Mac cover by Stacy DuPree of Eisley. She's awesome.

Life is a Kite

2010-03-02T14:50:00.009+08:00

Some times we fall. Sometimes we fly. But we'll always remember to get back up once we've hit the ground. And then soar to the highest skies ever found.

-photo by Moon, Pahang.

Remember December,

2010-03-01T02:05:00.007+08:00

Leafing through my ghost pages, I found a post written haphazardly, from December 2008. Summarising a facet of me, facts of me, and my questions of life.

I share, because I feel like it. Whereas a few years ago I'd just let it gnaw inside of me, locked in, crazy; today, 14 months later, I share. Because I can.

I'm defeated.
There's nothing else I can offer except for that.

Like a hollow balloon smiling in a gift shop, I am full of promise. A promise, though all is nothing but air. Even then, the smiley balloon deflates, the shine fades. Leaving nothing more than a sad, toxic piece of plastic.

I should have known I'd come back to this position; in fact, sadly, I knew I was defeated before this started. But like always, I refuse to believe it. I can say this much: no matter how hopeless I am, I remain hopelessly hopeful. Hopelessly hopeful that somehow, someday, I would finally break through. For I've been knocking on these walls for years, going through each brick of despair, denial, shame and all the rest; familiar like all the spines of the books I've read.... yet each time I go through them, just like the books, I would never be able to avoid all the motions that come with. Even after I've managed to break a hole in the wall, reaching my hand out through it, I quickly retreat, knowing that soon enough the bricks would be tumbling back down to close it.

I know, and I really hope that one day I'd be able to break through it, once and for all. The challenge is not the wall itself, it's me.

It's incredibly absurd to think that although I've lived in this world for 20 years, my life hasn't really begun. When does life really begin, anyway? Before we know it, we're hitting mid-life crisis, full of despair about a life that could have been, and what was going to be. That's given if we even live that long. What age will we be, on our deathbeds, regretting all the choices (or non-choices) we've made in our life?
Wishing we had more time?
Wishing, always wishing.

In all these 20 years of my life, what have I done? What have I really done for the world, for Allah, for myself? Oh, there's this and that, but none, I'm afraid, are enough to keep me safe in the hereafter. What if my life ends now? How many times has this hypothetical question been raised? No answers, just more questions...

I laugh. What, are these 20 years just for getting prepped before life really begins? Isn't our whole life prepping up for that matter?
And we spend a third of our life sleeping. Meaning I've only 'lived' 13 years.

There is no bigger lie than when you lie to yourself. Because when there is no end to your self-deceit, you have truly reached a dead end.

Remember. -Munira, December 2008.

This is not a blog update (or is it?)

2010-02-23T22:03:00.002+08:00

Where am I now?

A lot has happened since Ramadhan last year, and I can say that I'm in a happy enough place in my life right now. Just going through the motions of life. Not much drama. Just good ol' life with friends, family, and university :)

I haven't been writing in a long, long time. Because, well... although writing can be a therapy, sometimes it can also prove to be akin to rubbing salt into wounds. I had nothing to write about when I was fine, but writing about the past could still be painful. I mean, my life is good, but pain is pain no matter how small. Ah, well, pain makes us human. Being numb really is.......uh, numb?

Apa yang aku merepek nih... haih... nampak sangat dah lama tak menulis.

Anyways....

Through these years, many chapters have been opened and closed. Some short, some long. Some forgetful, some leaving huge imprints. Some pass by slowly without even noticing, yet changes the direction of the story completely. We forget sometimes, what got us here. It only takes awhile to look back at the chapters, maybe re-reading one or two, to be reminded how significant certain things are. How we should be thankful for each little journey, each little bump along the way. Because although life is written, it is unpredictable.

My life is just like theirs, his, hers, yours. People come and go, chapters open and close, emotions crash and flow. Not one bit do I regret meeting the people I have in my life. It takes these periods of uneventful space to breathe, sit back, relax.... and take it all in.

This year I'll be 21. Still a child to some. We're all children. No one can claim to not have that still in them.

I kept a daily diary since I was 13. Nowadays it's not so daily anymore lah. Makes me wonder, what did I even write about at 13? I shudder at the thought. It would make for a pretty interesting nightmare for me to be re-reading that diary when I'm age 23. Hmm, nevermind. Shake that thought.

Moving on,
I hope last year would be The End of All Ridiculousness. I mean that in way that all childish dramas and emotional ridiculousness shall end only to be replaced by mature seriousness, deep ridiculousness and ridiculous deepness.

Speaking of which.
In the future.
I might need someone ridiculous.
But deep.
Maybe sometimes ridiculously deep.
Get my drift? Ok, who else is with me on this one?

-end rant-

Dream Fire

2010-02-04T18:10:00.001+08:00

I used to paint pictures
trying to fathom the world around me

I used to imagine valleys
filled with crystalline words
lakes
drink them up
to your throat

I had sculpted figurines
my very own ruby-hearted heroines
fired them up with my anger
heat of the moment
spit in the fire
soft things into stone
carving iron-vined bones

I sang paper cut melodies
kites drifting through the skies
high strung on hollow guitars
chatterfeet of forest animals
leaves and soil
leaving me drunk
on emotions full

But pictures fade
paint unstains
lakes dry
heroines die
fire fades
and dreams wake

Dreams wake
leaving me awake
in a wake of a white ashed cloud.

...

I'm back after a dry spell. There is dust all around me.

Strange Critters. Cute. Cuddly. Creepy.

2009-12-04T10:41:00.007+08:00

*photos, apparently sourced from an imaginary land called Facebook by an agent who only wants to be known as Moomeow.

Welcome to the land of the weird, the cute, and the cuddly. And maybe sometimes creepy.

"It's a hobby of mine during the holidays to observe and capture the wondrous world of the Strange Critters. It's not something I get to do very often, besides, these critters are very elusive," explains Moomeow, while adjusting her pen and paper used to jot down notes.

"It's exciting to be able to share this view of the world with the rest of the Interweb City population. The key to discovering them is to observe their characteristics, and it will become apparent. Well, to me it has, so far. It's fascinating."

kata.mata & raya

2009-11-27T13:37:00.007+08:00

Cover of our little pamphlet I doodled, representing the kata.mata ladies who will be reading.
Atikah, Shaqyl, and yours truly :S

I'm nervous + excited.
Come and support us!

And Eid Mubarak to you all! =)

Details in the fabric

2009-11-21T09:58:00.008+08:00

Where do I start?

This is funny. This blank white space in an imaginary world, the marvelous pixels just waiting to burn colour into your eyes. Space is ever-changing, but with heads stuck in this world for too long, what moves? As I dip my pen into this ink, this Tinta Alam Maya, I wonder what to write.

All I can say is I'm really glad the holidays are here. The whole semester was a complete blurry mess and emotional roller-coaster. I could hardly focus, not with my head and heart in that shape. I must be weak. Darn it.

Like I said in Trains, you can think you had it quite figured out, but Oh boy, were you wrong. You set your head to arrive at a destination, yet the destination is a complete mystery, and the journey is still a long way to go.

I'm not angry. I'm not sad. In fact, I laugh. I am laughing in my own face. It's funny, the way God weaves everything together. Like our lives are train tracks, weaving in and out of each other's path, but unlike the way we expected. Weaving to craft a beautiful textile of life. See, when we get too caught up in the details of the fabric, we forget the bigger picture.

It takes a little slap in the face to zoom out and see. See that Allah truly has the best plans for us, though we never immediately see it.

I'll dip in more ink tomorrow, perhaps. But for now rest this quill.

ClapclaP

2009-11-01T15:52:00.005+08:00

Clap!

One hand on my forehead

another caressing smooth skin of regret

Stitches

There is no measure

for this erasure

Clap! Clap!

Utterances of congratulations instead

applause for bookmarks that forget

Pause

replay rewind and make sure

clean doesn't equate pure

Clap! Clap! Clap!

Applaud what the mind forgets

the heart remembers

for the hand that picks up the pieces

reaches

in and stitches

paradoxical cures.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

One hand on my forehead

another pulling back words already said

Clocks

start the countdown await the closure

begin: Erasure.

While we wait for the dust to settle...

2009-10-10T17:10:00.002+08:00

The Path of mystery ... by ~ptakart on deviant ART

Art by Ptak Art, Music by Bat For Lashes

Hearts are Paper Mysteries

2009-10-07T00:46:00.005+08:00

My blood pounds heavy
the beat of this drum tugs low
sockets swirl in spheres
this wheel turns, turns, turns...

"strangers are friends, mes amies"
"friends are strangers, enemies"
in this strange world
twisting here
where things turn, turn, turn...

hearts are paper mysteries
torn to the myth below
soft lullabies to the ears
crackling as they burn, burn, burn...

words strung with brevity
as heart ashes faintly glow
lighting smoke trails of years
beating as we learn, learn, learn...

uni(verse)

2009-09-23T19:31:00.010+08:00

Have you ever felt like you had too much to say but you never have enough time or space to say it all? Even when I write, and I write a lot, it’s only a fraction of what I want to say. I can’t write or say everything down, it’s just not physically or mentally possible. My trail of thoughts branch out, multiply, cascade down like rain… It’s like a universe of a painting that is never finished. There are so many things, and sometimes you feel like you are floating in space where there is no up or down, and you can see all the stars but you know there are many more stars you can’t see. There are so many stars at night shining so bright, but you can only count one at a time. Just like in our lives there are so many wars to fight, but sometimes all I’m able to do is fight mine.

And the more you try to keep track of where you are, the more you realize how much more lost you are.

It’d be easier to just float by without a care, but you know that isn’t possible, for the world and your thoughts would always be there.

So then you try to head straight. The problem is, after all that disorienting and psychedelic floating about, you don’t know which way is straight. 360 degrees of possibilities… You only wish you would bump into a meteor so at least it would push you in some sort of direction. And all this while in this universe of never-ending verse, you’ve never even come across another soul. It’s just you, all alone. You ponder upon it sometimes, but it seems like just a speck of dust. Because you’ve been alone all this while, it’s become your life. You don’t know what you’re missing.

But we don’t know what’s out there. There are many more things we haven’t seen. Maybe we were never alone, but just too far apart in the vast universe that to our limited observation, we concluded that we’re alone.

After all, there are so many possibilities, so who can know for sure?

And this tale is still being written.

It never fails to amaze me how the colours of my word vomit can sketch the image of the nebulae sprouting up in my own personal universe. It's a scary thought, the possibilities of me living the rest of my life inside of my own mind.

So break me.

Break my shell and let my stardust fall on you, and maybe we can sail another universe altogether.

One Thousand Moons

2009-09-17T07:16:00.001+08:00

Eid Moon by ~toxicangel-moon on deviant ART

My words can remain static

only verse and not verbs

sometimes I wish my forehead would hit the cold hard ground

more often than the lonely sorrows my heart found

in a state of panic,

yet I resume

my lonely gaze towards the moon.

My head to the ground

and these words to You

and From You

peace until the rise of dawn

and those nights I've been lost to

I wish to be found

unscarred, tightly wrapped around

the spinning yarn of a thousand moons.

One night

and You

and one thousand moons.

Moon,

dawn.

Have a lovely remainder of Ramadhan, and Eid Mubarak, my dear friends.
I love you all more than it may seem.

Kullu am wa antum bikhair...

Tinta Alam Maya

2009-09-16T00:02:00.007+08:00

Wide Slumber .color. by ~toxicangel-moon on deviant ART

Lagi
ku membuka mata
sehening cipta kata
yang terungkap di alam maya
terngiang-ngiang karya

musnah, hapus mimpi
tumbuh lagi...
merah, lubuk hati
biarpun ...

Api
membakar alis mata
pun hujan tak terasa
yang terperangkap hanya daya
berdarah tinta alam maya

sudah, aku mimpi
tidak pasti
punah kaca hati
walaupun...

Hati ini
berdarah
tinta
alam
Maya.

Moon,
midnight.

My non-Malay speaking readers, sorry it's in Malay again. I'm on a roll.

The drawing above is an old drawing of mine, done almost a year ago, which I revisited. Fun stuff.

Anyways. I've taken a turn at the junction, only to find more turns take! I can't decide what, and I hope I won't be lost. Well, on another hand, traffic lights can be pretty. If they don't stay red for too long during rush hour.

with every hardship, there is relief

2009-09-05T13:37:00.005+08:00

Just a reminder for me, my friends, and anyone else who needs it.

Although it's already mid-Ramadhan, it's still not too late to wish you all a blessed Ramadhan. May you find peace, solace and forgiveness.

=)

I'm scratching at the surface now

2009-09-01T03:27:00.004+08:00

And I'm trying hard to work it out

if you have something to say...

Titik Garisan.

2009-08-27T14:33:00.008+08:00

Titik.

demi
titik
demi titik
rekahan jalan dibasahi gerimis.

Titik.
demi titik, demi
titik
darah mewarnai badan putih.

Celik
sudah mata yang dilitup
kabus jerebu tertiup
langit biru merintih
Petik
kapur jalanan itu
warna kesukaanmu
angka kewujudanmu
cebisan cita-cita mu

dan terus lakarkan

Titik.

demi
titik
demi titik
hingga manjadi garisan
tanpa ilusi bayangan
jelas ternyata:

"mampukah kau melangkah
hujung garisnya?"

adakah terpijak, terpadam
garis dunia..

Trains

2009-08-26T09:54:00.007+08:00

We've waited for our trains to arrive. We've anticipated it.
We've held our tickets in hand. Held our destinations in our hearts.

The clock ticks.
We think we've planned. We'll board our train and depart.

But what happens when we miss it?
What happens when our journey isn't going as planned?
When everything was so close, yet so far apart?

The clamour of the railroad, the rocks against metal, fades away into the horizon. The rain soaks up the air, just as you begin to soak up your own regrets.

You're stranded in between.
Between here and there.
Between then and now.
Between your past and your future.
Between you and them.

The journey is long. The wait is long. It drains you. This constant waiting, aching, and burning. One train ticket burned. Another will arrive. But at what price?

Just wait. Get on the new train. Arrive safely. That's all you can do.

Your train could be anything.
It could be an actual train in the first place.
It could be a chance.
It could be a person, a time, a choice, a holy month. You have the ticket.
Keep in faith that no matter what happens, you will arrive at your destination.
Somehow.

Even if the destination is sometimes a mystery.

Siren

2009-08-02T20:51:00.003+08:00

Siren calls distant piercing ears
only falls on swallowed mute fears
dust, tinting roses on placid eyes
breath, pulling harder at her life;

But she smiled, blind
her ears placed firmly
in her hands
her heart wide shut
against the tapping feet
of her unborn infant hope.

siren calls again
bright light against skin
she can't run away
when the cold knife sways
against her trickling warm organ
till it's cut open
to reveal a life unsung.

Red life slowly stringing
weaving a melody of yearning
slowly her siren starts singing
of new ways to start breathing.

"I've awaken with eyes of brand new
I've starved so long without you..."

Kapal Terbang Kertas

2009-07-25T15:51:00.007+08:00

dahulu
aku hanyalah helaian kertas
sebuah buku
yang terpaku;
tertutup

berlalu
satu bayangan, hembusan nafas
yang membuka
membaca cita
lalu hidup

"bukalah
lipatan di muka surat ku
buku hati ku"

"bentuklah
jari-jemarimu di liku tulisan
renunglah
isi ceritamu di balik lukisan"

bacalah diriku
tinta yang meliku
hitam dan putihku
antara kelabu

bacalah diriku
benang fikiranku
tersimpul, celaru
renyuk, keliru

lipatlah diriku menjadi
sebuah kapal terbang kecil
biarku melayang tinggi
hinggaku jatuh ke bumi
hinggaku jatuh ke bumi
hinggaku jatuh

ke bumi.

aku hanyalah
sebuah kapal terbang kertas
tapi selagi ku benafas
akan ku tetap tersenyum sendiri.

Haze

2009-07-24T14:38:00.003+08:00

I scoff
I cough
I stutter

I weep
I blink
My eyes water

There are tiny claws digging into my eyes
and daggers of sand strike into my chest
sputtering dust particles that can't be denied
a disturbing existance that starts to infest

Infesting my heart that's blinded within
I pray for rain
Rain comes
haze comes again
Rain comes
haze comes again
again and again and again

There's pain in my throat and stinging in my eyes, for the thick haze still clouds the air we breathe.

I'm a prisoner of words unsaid

2009-07-19T15:29:00.001+08:00

I have talented friends

2009-07-08T11:52:00.008+08:00

I am always in awe of them. It's amazing how much talent surrounds me. I may feel dwarfed sometimes, but I always support my friends in the passions they are pursuing. Here are some of them and their recent progress...

My friend Zalikha, who is a feisty girl passionate about photography, is pursuing her dream with RupaJiwa Studios. I'm proud of you, girl!

My childhood friend, Aneesah, is a very creative girl. I've known her since we were babies, but we lost touch for a very long while, until I met her on deviantArt. She doesn't sell her stuff yet, but there are many guaranteed customers if she does start selling them, because so many people have been asking. That includes me :)

a stamp she carved for me, and mailed all the way from UK! Thanks Aneesah ^^

Then there's Kayant, whom I've just begun to get to know although I've known him through blogs for awhile. He's a very talented guy. Here he wrote and recorded a duet with another talented and beautiful friend of mine, Naby.

To all my friends, I'll always support you guys!

This is not a blog post.

2009-07-07T19:08:00.005+08:00

Breathe.

Labyrinthine

2009-07-04T15:19:00.004+08:00

Have I invited you in
this twisted labyrinth
of internal monologue
for your eyes to be unfogged?

Would you be able to swim
in a sea of words, dive in
to an eternal episode
of the sky giving into flood?

If you look into these pages
of arteries, veins, and nerves
would you be able to wrap a bandage
around a wounded verse?

for I'm Labyrinthine
pouring pieces of my mind
painting a landscape of words to form
a calm before a storm.

Simple words.

A review of some time past

2009-07-01T17:40:00.011+08:00

If Time were a shooting star; leaving a rainbow trail of memories...

...I'd wish upon you within a beat.

Time can seem short, it can seem long. It is what it is, but memories shape our experience of time. As cliched as it sounds, time really does travel fast when you are having a good time.

It doesn't matter if you lack sleep, are schedule-beat, hardly eat, have aching feet... It's all worth it if your heart is smiling like a shining sun in the bright summer heat, melting the ice from your once cold heart.
You're happy, and why would any other negative thing matter?

My time spent during the short semester was time very well spent. It was a volatile mix of exhilarating emotions, and for those whole two months, it never stopped.

I took only one subject. Integrated Multidisciplinary Project. But here, I met the most wonderful group of people I was lucky enough to work with throughout the whole semester: Touch Design Consultant.

I will forever miss and cherish the days we spent designing, researching, snacking, chatting, sleeping on the floor and sofa, singing, jamming, playing guitar hero, watching movies, chilling, working together, bullying the PM, 'counselling', and generally just every precious moment I spent with them in that comfy office.

God knows how much time I spent in KAED. I didn't even have another subject to excuse myself to. So everyday, from 10am till 3am, I'd be there. But somehow, I enjoyed it. It's a different feeling from other semesters with individual work. We kept on laughing till the day of the presentation. We might not have won first place, but I still think we were winners.

...

And of course, there was RUMI:

The 21st Architectural Workshop held in UiTM Shah Alam may not have been a roaring success in terms of event management, but as far as our UIA delegates know... it was a beautiful experience. Not just the 5 days of the workshop itself, but the days leading up to it as well. The practices, the preparation, it was all worth it. I couldn't have been luckier to be able to work with these 2 amazing groups of people, both my office and RUMI delegates.

The impact that we brought to the workshop was definitely huge. We managed to liven up the crumbling event, and break stereotypes while we were at it. You should have seen our faces when we won first prize for our performance on Highland Tower!

Everything that happened, happened for a reason. Out of all the things that happened that semester, however, one thing remains the most important.

Friendships were formed.

Alhamdulillah~great memories, TouchDesign & RUMI~

photos from Farah Afreeda, Aqilah Nizar, Hazim Azami and Fatin Aqilah.

Turned to Ashes

2009-06-14T13:08:00.004+08:00

Turned to Ashes

by Munira Hamzah

There used to be hope.

A little seedling could grow, manifesting hope with each sprouting leaf. And with each ring around the trunk, a whole new cycle of life is spun. What joy a little seedling could do, breathing life like a symbiotic lung to a beautiful being called Earth. With each vein in each leaf, hope flowed like miraculous blood. A blood that seemed never ending.

There used to be hope.

But hope burns like fire, it breathes warm if done right. One wrong move, however, and that very same hope could turn to ashes. The kind of fire that burns the lungs, each seedling turning into coal. The main heartbreaker is when the veins have become numb, and the coal becomes another fact of life. When eyes become blind, blurred by the smoke.

There used to be hope. Where has it gone?

With each tree left breathless, a piece of hope falls to the ashes.

With each fire that flashes, the beat of Earth’s heart vanishes.

For hope to grow again, blood must flow through each vein.

For the intoxicating chase of smoke to blow away, each seedling and tree must remain.

There used to be hope….

.....

I was at the 21ST Architectural Workshop, held at UiTM Shah Alam from 7th-11th June 2009. Despite all the shortcomings of the organizers, we had an awesome time. Mainly due to our own spirit, and the people we went with. InshaAllah I will write a post about that.

I entered the essay competition, and out of the 4 topics I chose "Turned to Ashes: Deforestation is a Norm in Today's World". Under a limited amount of time, and a maximum of 250 words, this is what I managed to bleed out.

Alhamdulillah, I won first prize. I could not believe it. I thought they might have not understood what I had written in my typical style of prose. So when they announced my name during the award night, I was shocked! It means quite as much as Jabbawockeez means to Nesh.

She

2009-06-03T18:31:00.003+08:00

She sits in a corner, with the face of a static soul silently screaming of cluelessness, her eyes roving like little planets on a child's astronomy mobile. Her fingers fidget, she cracks a knuckle or two. Like a child staring out of a 'MISSING' poster, she smiles nervously, in a blur between past and present. It seems like nothing moves her, and she moves nothing; a relationship of mutual ignorance.

...

She doesn't sit amongst a crowd, she IS the crowd. Her eyes flicker with excitement, her voice filled with glee, and her every pore spills smooth, golden confidence. No question unanswered, no problem unsolved, no task undone. Her steps echo off the walls like drumbeats, a blasting music that has become akin to breathing.

...

She holds a mirror with two hands. A mirror that never lies. A mirror that holds both truths. Shattering it against the light, the million spectrums will tell you one thing:

She is in all ends.

Breakbone

2009-05-27T16:41:00.005+08:00

Pour salt on my bones
Boil them white,
peel my flesh away.
Ingest all my songs
Chew my spirit
Leave me
with nothing
to say

Calm me down
put me away
in a chest of drawers
cool and safe
Forget about me
years down with rain
never talk about me
I'm not insane
but never speak of me
never, ever ever
have a memory

Of my blood down your throat
of my paper white bones
of my raging fists
against your cage of ribs
of my words
upon your lips...

Just let me go
for I'm a ghost
of broken bones.

2009-04-23T00:34:00.002+08:00

She's searching through satellites
for the meaning of life
she's disabled
blind
with two pair of eyes

And no,
she's not the one
she's living a lie
no,
she has no answers
Only empty clutches
of particles of life.

So, It's Holiday Time

2009-04-17T19:15:00.014+08:00

image via *m0thyyku

So studio's done, the exams are over, first year's over (!), and it's the semester break.

But it's only for only two weeks, though. It's been two days since my exams have finished, and I feel the boredom kicking in. Time is precious, it is limited, so we must plan our holiday time wisely, my friends. Whether you 'plan' on 'sleeping in', 'staring into space', 'gaining weight', or doing productive things that you just couldn't find time for during the semester, make sure you make full use of your time wisely.

While the internet holds many wonders and enables us to communicate with each other, surely you wouldn't want to think back on your holiday when the semester starts and only remember "What I did in the holiday? uh... geez, I remember a lot of Facebook quizzes. Did you know my ideal husband is one of the Jonas Brothers?" I have no idea where they get these quizzes from, seriously. (Btw I don't do these quizzos.)

I'm not really a couch potato. I rarely watch TV. But I am somewhat of a computer geek. I like reading various blogs, looking at pictures and art on flickr and deviantart, watching music videos/shows/indie programs/movies on youtube, browsing for new music to listen to, etc. I also Google like mad. If any random bit of information I come across intrigues me by even a little bit, I'd want to know more and immediately Google it and read all about what it is and it's history, as if I'm studying for an exam. I was once told by a groupmate of mine, although I don't know if he was serious or not, "Munira, you should be the Researcher. You like to research, huh?"

Besides that, I also love editing pictures on Photoshop. I also like creating new layouts, although my knowledge is limited to basic HTML. I really need to update this blog's layout, particularly the header.

Clearly, you can see why I can be quite addicted to the internet. I'm not that proud of it.
Anyways, what I'm trying to say here is that although the digital world offers plenty of things, there is a whole world out there that is real, breathing, and full of excitement and things to explore. Make it even. If you're addicted to watching TV, try going out more to experience what is actually on the TV. If you love chatting with friends, try to meet up with them. Same goes to chatting with random people. Want to meet new people? Try going to an event or a friendly community and actually talk to people you meet there. Meeting and making new friends is fun.

Even if you can't go out much, there is actually a lot to do. You don't have to be super-outgoing and 'deep-pocketed' to enjoy tour holiday. This post is actually for you and very much for me as well. Here are some suggestions, friends!Remember, this is also an invitation to join in. If you feel like doing any of these together, just tell me. I'd be more than happy :)

Things To Do (on a budget):

Going out:

1)Call up old school friends and have a mini-reunion!

2)Gather up a few crazy friends, hop off the LRT in the middle of KL, and get lost!

3)Have a picnic at the kite park in Kepong!

4)Go over to Central Market Annexxe. Chat with artists and friendly strangers. Go to Ricecooker and listen to obscure new music.

5)Visit relatives. How often do you get to see them?

6)Check events. (on Facebook or Eventful)Go with like-minded friends. Have a laugh.

7)Go to a Young Muslims Project event. Make new friends.

8)Hangout with friends at any random venue just to talk, instead of chatting/sms. You seriously do not need a mall.

9)Movie marathon.

10)Go to a nice place to enjoy nature, the one nearest to where you live. In my case, there is Ulu Yam, FRIM, some parks, and Bukit Tabuh.

11) Become a volunteer in any activity/community projects.

12) Make a movie. It can be a documentary, a short film, or just a funny clip made with your friends.

Staying in:

1)Give your room a makeover.
It doesn't have to be drastic, simply by rearranging things and reorganizing, it'll feel fresh. If you have storage problems, buy nice cheap boxes to aid your woes.

2)Write letters to your friends.
Traditional, hand-written ones. It's a dying art, and it is a beautiful act that needs to be carried on. I'm sure it would brighten up their day.

3)Salvage your wardrobe.
Shopping is fun, but you can save. Look in your wardrobe. Are there any clothes that are torn/worn/boring? Simple sewing can help you. It really doesn't take that much to salvage that shirt with the hole, or missing buttons. I, myself, am planning on re-gluing and revamping all my old shoes. Finding new shoes... it's a pain for me.

4)Learn how to cook
Ha-ha. Start with the basics, okay? And then surprise your family with dinner :)

5)Make artwork
This one requires no rules, no crits, no consultation, no pressure. It's all in good fun. This one is for you, and only you.

6)Have a sleepover.
Girls! Invite your closest girlfriends and pillow-talk buddies and have a sleepover/pillowtalk session. Talk about life, watch movies, eat snacks, stay up, have a grand time.

7)Watch a movie.
DVD, downloaded, or on TV. Alone, with friends, or with family. Sometimes watching movies at home is just more fun.

8)Start a scrapbook.
Print your favourite pictures. Keep all your movie tickets, entrance tickets, and other random things. Glue them in a notebook and write about them. Carry this on till yer olde. ;)

9)Learn a new skill.
Be it oil painting, cooking, sewing, dancing, Auto-CAD/Sketch-Up/Photoshop, sign language; here's the time you've got. So use it well. It's enough to at least get you into the basics.

10)Read books. 'Nuff said.

Of course, there are many more options. Just remember to take it easy, have fun, and feel good. Got any ideas? Why don't you share a few?

Under the open sky, oh my

2009-04-06T18:30:00.003+08:00

Apakah persamaan yang terdapat di antara:

a)Gergasi,
b)ayam,
c)gitar,
d)kereta biru, dan
e)KAED?

Jawapannya: Majlis makan-makan dan panggang ayam Studio Satu yang berlangsung pada malam Sabtu di halaman tengah KAED.

Right after my sederhana Bahasa Melayu Komunikasi exam, (which, although not excellent, was not as disastrous as my BM paper last semester), me and my friends met up to go grocery shopping in Giant. It was I who was entrusted with the food preparation for the night's barbecue, and I roped in Mona, Farrahana, Najwa, Sue, Ain, Yaa and Nurul as well.

We had quite an adventure hunting for bargains and food items at Giant. Our budget was very small as only a handful of people had paid. What tickled me, though, was how much it felt like we were a broke family going grocery shopping, and I was the 'mom'! Naturally, it was because I was the tallest, and also because I was the only one wearing baju kurung, and I was the one with the money. I was constantly fretting about the cost, just like any good parent with a shallow pocket and 40 7 children. I mean, we have 40+ people in our studio, and only RM100+, for God's sake. Kind of reflects the times, no?

That being said, though, we did buy everything we needed but I had to top it off with some personal money. The cashier kindly joked, "Siapa tak bayar tu... jangan kasi dia makan!"

We split in half after that. Me, Mona, Yaa and Najwa headed to my home to prepare the chicken and salad, while the rest went to Ain's to make the bihun and kek batik. Now if this all seems a bit weird to you, you're not the only one. Munira? and them? Cooking? Yes, I may not be Bree van de Kamp or a housewife in the 1950's, but I am not exactly a complete disastrous oaf in the kitchen either. Just give us some inspiration and some more time, and we'd be fine.

It was all in good fun. The recipe was Mona's recipe, albeit with a little tweak from Najwa and me (my mom's suggestion though). We didn't get to marinate it for long, but ask anyone who came that night: it was gooood!
So, good news, mom. ;p

The night proceeded as planned, with many compliments to the chefs of the night (all 13 or so of them, including the guys who ~~burnt~~ grilled the chicken). After some words, jokes, advice and speeches from our lecturers and a few studiomates, out came the guitars for some strumming and sing-a-longs.
I may be a sentimental/nostalgic/emotional person, but that is a side of me kept somewhat hidden. I am the kind of person who would laugh if you sing a corny song to me, and if you hug me and say "I love you!" my outward reaction would be, "Apahal nih??". So when we started singing, I was just enjoying the moment and singing along, smiling.

And then we got to "Lucky", that lovely Jason Mraz song.
And then we got to the line "under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying.."
You really should have been there.
Here we were, in the midst of exam week, sitting in a large circle, in the courtyard, under the open night sky, singing those lyrics! It was probably one of the corniest moments in my life! I couldn't stop laughing.

It's true that I may have felt down for several weeks amounting to the final presentation and portfolio, and also after knowing my results, but I can safely say I am back now. Like how Sufjan Stevens sings in one of my personal anthems, "Chicago": "I don't mind, I don't mind..."

I always fall. And come back up again. It's the reality of life. I know that when I'm down, it won't last forever. I will get through and be able to dance in a field of sunflowers again! And that, my friends, is how I survive.

Some pictures I stole from Yaya:

Time to study to make sure I will not punch the wall the day I get my results. Haha.
Adieu..

Tanpa tajuk

2009-04-02T21:20:00.005+08:00

Hai si cermin
siapalah diriku ini?
mengapa kau melihat wajahku begitu?
eh, kau besarkan matamu?
kemudian mengecil, kebencian pula?
haruskah kau membesarkan luka
dengan cebikan wajahmu yang hodoh
membuatku terasa bodoh
teramat sangat
teramat sesat.

Hai si cermin
siapalah diriku ini?
berdarah, terpaku separuh jalan di pintu?
kemudian jatuh mendakapmu?
kacamu pecah, seribu, buatku terluka
sehingga ku sedar, kau halimunan sahaja
dengan cebikan wajahmu yang hodoh
membuatku terasa bodoh
teramat sangat
teramat sesat.

Hai si cermin
siapalah diriku ini?

Kau adalah aku.

365

2009-03-25T18:34:00.002+08:00

What do you do when deadlines are near, sleep is nigh, and emotions are high? You come up with a corny anthem, of course. haha.

1,2,3
There goes my Miss Sixty
Twenty-4 straight hands wave goodbye to me
Sometimes I think I’ll never get past thirty
When twelve is just too much for me
And this goes on for
Three sixty

5
I’m barely alive
Three sixty five

Sometimes my heart skips a bit
When I realize so much time had gone by me
It goes 1-2, 1-2, 1, 2, 3
Can’t even count for the life of me
The next thing I know
It’s three sixty

5
I’m barely alive
Three sixty five

Round and round spins my head
I’m awake others are in bed
I see stars in my eyes
No they’re not even in the sky
I’m awake and it’s…
It’s 3:65??

I’m barely alive
Three sixty five.

It’s now a quarter past four
I can’t even see right
I’d love to lie on the floor
And curl myself tight
Do no more
No more
No more no more
Three sixty five

I’m barely alive.

...
This is something we randomly came up with in a moment of madness while scrambling with our projects...

A Picture

2009-03-16T00:35:00.003+08:00

1. Go to your photo folder in your computer
2. Go to the 6th folder of photos
3. Go to the 6th picture in that folder
4. Put the picture on your blog and description of it.
5. Invite six friends to join the challenge.
6. Link them in your blog and let them know they have been challenged

Me, Kim, and donuts. The man behind the lens was none other than Zayan. This picture was taken over a year ago, in January 2008, during one of our random weekly outings. I think this was at the curve.

Matriculation days! Oh my God, those were the heydays of the lovely Viva nicknamed Lulu, gracefully being our saviour from the place called college, driven none other than our knight, Zayan. Our guilty pleasure were these donuts.

Oh...

I am puking my freaking brains out

2009-03-15T13:31:00.002+08:00

asjhfiuwoidejmflnewfjrpejgothgoernvreojgprjgolrjgvortjbohthlvnolehjoglnleorhtjngolrg

No, there is no secret code in there so don't bother trying to decipher a hidden message about me being an undercover psycho killer with the mission of demolishing all the architectural schools existing today and then burning all the drawings, and using the models as houses for my mutant rat army, which is armed with all matter of pimped up architectural paraphernalia such as an adjustable set square with saw teeth and pens that shoot ink and makes everything look like it was built by a 3-year old. No, absolutely not.

All things aside, here are some updates concerning life as an ~~arhitorture zombie~~ architecture student I am too lazy to write about, and am just re-posting from my other blog to further confirm my laziness.

From 2009, will you be mine?

Till then, adios amigos. May your sanity (and mine too, hopefully) remain intact.

I am the biggest loser that has ever walked upon this earth

2009-02-27T23:32:00.002+08:00

May be an exaggeration, but that's how I've been feeling.

There isn't even a firm way to describe it, no yardstick to measure from. I know why I feel this way, but I can't exactly fathom as to how precisely I've arrived here.

This whole semester is a blur to me, and I myself am a gray passing blur. I've been trying so hard, but I deny it. Hard fact is I've been trying so hard to fit in everything in my life within a tiny frame -- my work/studies, my other friendships, my personal missions, my home time.... In the end, I do favourably in none.

I feel like a loser, but in what sense? No one is keeping score, unless you count the deed angels. Purely psychological crap-tastic schisms? If I had kept up my farce well enough and long enough, I bet no one would even notice, even me. Just the way I like it. Unfortunately, one can only hold up such a Great Wall of China for so long. It ends up crumbling at one point. And when that happens, boy, it isn't pretty.

I love talking to people, and finding out how they deal with their emotions and their relationships. How misleading is that? It makes me sound like such an expert. I'm just curious.

Ah, well.
Here's weirdo bidding adieu for the moment.

Filling Time and Space

2009-02-17T11:25:00.006+08:00

15 years ago, I:
1_was 5 years old and in kindergarten, and lived in a quaint neighbourhood in Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA.
2_loved drawing ever since I could remember, but was somehow a rebel because I coloured my people light orange (to achieve 'peach') instead of full-on Simpson's yellow.
3_wore a pink headscarf to school everyday, the only one in my class who wore headscarf. But I took it off after school anyway. :P
4_loved playing with colourful sidewalk chalk and rolling down the hill of the playground.
5_was a naive little girl with many stuffed rabbit friends. ^^

10 years ago, I:
1_was 10 years old, and in Standard 4, in Al-Amin Gombak
2_hardly remember anything from this year...
3_was a blur bumbling kid who used to wear big huge nerd glasses to school
4_went home late everyday waiting for my parents, and used to while away time by folding little paper boats and ships and setting them afloat in puddles
5_had plenty of cats!

5 years ago, I:
1_was 15 and in Grade 9 (that's form 3 btw) in International Islamic School
2_was a prefect, "good student", illustrator and reporter for the school newsletter, and basketball player, and loved art and drama
3_loved Evanescence a bit too much, and sang it almost all the time ._.
4_was going through the whole embarassing teenage/adolescence phase. Bring in all the emotions, angst and attitude!
5_went cruising in Penang with some other peeps from my school in the YAWA International Children's Conference on the Environment. Fun times!

2 years ago, I:
1_was 17/18 and loving it, yet stuck in the land of Matriculation UIA
2_bought my first handphone with my own money I got from working!
3_met the lovely girls who would be my best friends. UIA would never be awesome without you!!
4_Celebrated my18th birthday in joint with Abby's, Imah's and Kak Dayah's. What's better than a joint birthday with yummy cake and cool friends?
5_was in a bright red car with happy shiny people singing the anthem 'Fix You'. High.

1 year ago, I:
1_made tiny model board people who got married in a little model board chapel.
2_found myself unexpectedly in love. Crazy.
3_went to Acheh and met the most wonderful people, had the most wonderful time, and fell in love with it completely. I cried leaving, but I still dream of goin back.
4_had a magical moment stargazing with Kim past midnight, in the mundane place of UIA PJ's field.
5_completed Matriculation studies, but knowing that I had a good time because of the brilliant people in my life

6 months ago, I:
1_took First Semester, IIUM. Crazy hell. Crazy days. Crazy crazy busy busy die.
2_went through quite a few rough patches and turbulences. But we heal.
3_designed a model for a project that I first hated, but now love. It reminds me of the wicked genius artist M.C Escher!
4_performed my poem "Guilt" at Kaedfest, slam-style. Now I wanna slam some more.
5_had my most beautiful, emotional Ramadhan so far.

Yesterday, I:
1_spent 24hrs+ awake but did not retreat myself to misery. Instead, everything was shineeeeeyy
2_wished my Dad a Happy Birhday!
3_met up with the other halves of Three Little Birds for Italian
4_was served with Strawberry Fields Forever, I Wanna Hold Your Hand, Oh! Darling, It Won't Be Long and some other singalongs from Across the Universe
5_went to bed smiling :)

Today, I:
1_had a Bahasa Melayu presentation, and my sister is my groupmate.
2_heard someone refer to my sister as the 'adik'. Bleh.
3_had yummy yoghurt raspberry cheesecake in my Dad's office ^^
4_need to complete some assignments, actually. Why is this thing here??
5_am wearing the coolest bag ever. Beg Taaruf.

Tomorrow, I:
1_will need to hand in an assignment and do a presentation for Halaqah
2_will have another WEDNESDAY. (longest day of the week *cough* 8am to *cough* 10pm)
3_have class at 8. wake up early loh!
4_need to be a better person.
5_may or may not be here.

I'm Alive, too

2009-01-26T12:44:00.005+08:00

My facebook status one week ago read:

Munira is busy and busy trying to deny it. Ob la di Ob la da!

Yes, I was busy. Still somewhat am. Which student isn't anyways? I had plenty of assignments, projects due, and a test. But I was still in denial. I did not want to be the distant buzzing Munira of last semester, always missing out on the fine things in life. So recently, although I was busy, I was busy trying to live it out as well.

Let's just quote The Beatle's song,
Ob la di Ob la da!
Life goes on, Brah!
Lala how the life goes on!

It's apt isn't it. No matter what happens, as long as there is still air in your lungs, and blood running through your veins, life indeed does go on.

My 2009 project is going pretty okay, although it still hasn't been a month, so I can't really tell how the rest of the year will go. Most of the drawings were made at night, with me scrambling to grab a piece of anything and finish before the day ends. My roommate Za has been been pretty supportive and understanding, which is always good. I'd be in my room scribbling on something, and she'd come in and turn on the lights. Haha. I draw mainly at night because it seems like a nice way to conclude the day's events or emotions into a piece of art.

The Palestinian issue is not a new one, but one that is constantly being mauled and rubbed raw. I can't fathom the absurdity of the world's leaders, the so-called law that has served no justice, the blatant idiocy of the mainstream Western media, and the pain of it all. It's not something I can even begin to understand, let alone accept. I am not alone, I know. But what do we do, what can we do, at this point in which we stand?

Helplessness is a lonely feeling, a painful one. I hate it. But there is just so much of it within my emotional frame now... I just have to remind myself that I should do whatever I can, even if it may seem like barely even a nanostep to help the situation, at least it is something.

On another note, I'm glad there are some pleasant things that are constant in life. Some things that may drift away now and then, but every now and then they return as well. It keeps things tied together. The past, present and future. For that I am grateful. To all my friends, thank you for being you.

What's new?

2009-01-01T23:03:00.003+08:00

Firstly, let's all admit that now is a particularly grim time for the world.

It's hardly a call for celebration, even as the new year 1430/2009 rolls in.

[picture from here]

I'm just dropping in for a short notice, I'm starting a new blog. I'm not moving my blog, but this is just another member of my blog family, and my project for this year.

Head on over to see scraps of daily life, quite literally. Pretty simple project (that requires some amount of discipline)- One art a day. It'll be either drawings or typography or little poems. And they will all be on little bits and scraps of anything I can find...

Till then,

The Girl Who Leapt Through Time

2008-12-26T23:52:00.008+08:00

On the last night of last semester, Mona, Suraya and I watched this movie called "The Girl Who Leapt Through Time". It was a funny, touching and genuine story. It was an anime movie, and truth be told, I don't remember the last time a cartoon made me want to cry.

The way the main character Makoto holds her friendships with her best friends so dearly hit it with me. She imagined things would remain that way, forever. She and her friends, perfect just the way they are. Makoto's personalisation is just so likable, so charming.

When she gains the ability to leap back in time, she excitedly goes back to improve her grades, preventing mishaps, or just to have more fun. However, things start getting more complicated, and she sees that even turning back time won't be able to prevent everything from happening.

The movie hit so many right notes for me. I thought only I realised that, but even later Mona mentioned that in some ways the movie reminded her of me.

I wish I could turn back time.

I wish some things would remain forever. Keep forever.

I love more than how much it seems.

But we all know that time will always pass and moments disappear, and things fade..... Some things we cannot avoid even if we really really wish to.

If only I could hold us together forever. Our hearts keep beating. Maybe not to the same tune, but it beats all the same.

Chiaki: "I'll be waiting in the future."
Makoto: "I'll be right there. I'll run there."

p/s: You can borrow the movie from Mona, or watch it on Youtube.

Poppin' balloons

2008-12-21T22:28:00.005+08:00

There were many things I wish I've done during this holiday... I've failed some.

But I did ok. I almost thought I was defeated, until near the end of the holidays when everything went off with a bang. Because for so long I felt like a shiny balloon in a gift shop; full of promise. A promise of nothing but air. Even then, the smiley balloon deflates, the shine fades. Leaving nothing more than a sad, toxic piece of plastic.

Of course, there is no bigger lie than when you lie to yourself.

And now sadly, the holidays are over. Time really goes by so very fast... The only reasons cliche's exist are because they are true. Life really is short.... imagine, my life has barely even started yet, and I've lived almost 20 years. That, and the fact that we spend about half of our life sleeping.

The semester is coming, and I can't fight the feeling of dread. It's not panic, it's just.... the feeling you get before you now that you are going to be doomed. I'm sorry, but things are just not the same anymore. Don't blame me for feeling sad and longing for either the rewind button or the fast-forward button. But hey, whatever I say, I live in the now.

A part of me wants to quit. But another part of me is a survivor, is made to persevere, the one who always puts on a brave face. If I could survive this, I could survive almost anything. Survive this course... at what cost? I don't know... I guess I don't have many options, either.

I love being high up there, it truly makes me 'high', no joke. If only I could soar...

So here's to another twisted roller coaster of a semester...

Here is a song that keeps me happy:

Lenka -We Will Not Grow Old

I found Middle-Earth in Gombak!

2008-12-15T16:02:00.009+08:00

My body is aching all over. But I'm content. I did it!

This is all due to the fun I had yesterday, hiking up Bukit Tabuh. I admit, There were unpleasant moments, but it was all worth it. Worth every breath, every slip, every leech, every ache in my muscles afterwards.

There were eleven of us, including me, Shaqyl, and my brother Muhsin. I was invited by Basyirah, and I immediately jumped at the chance. I've been longing to climb up Bukit Tabuh all these years I've lived here since mid-1995.

I think the whole thing would be easier to explain if you were actually there. I guess we'll have to make do with pictures, won't we.

This was or destination, as viewed from UIA. I took this picture later on in the day after the hike, it was already raining there as you can see.

The hike started out very jungly, slippery and leechy. In fact this is the only picture I took of that part of hiking, it was hard to keep grabbing my camera from my bag. I slipped a couple of times in the very wet and steep parts. We were almost crawling. It was quite steep. I didn't bother checking if I had any leeches on me, that part was guaranteed. Only later did I realize that my pants were bloodied, with two big fat leeches happily sucking my blood on my legs. I was lucky, only two -- Shaqyl got seven!

This was already at the top, reaching the peak. It was a much more pleasant hike -- none of that slimy stuff. That, and because it was so beautiful. The rocks, the trees, the moss... It was like we have stepped into an entirely different world altogether. And although I was tired, every time I looked up I gasped. Not of exhaustion, but at the view that was so breathtaking. The atmosphere was very magical,you had to be there yourself to believe it. Who would think that such Middle-Earth beauty existed in the humble Gombak?

Finally, we reached the peak. All the exhaustion I seemed to feel was instantly lifted. I was blown away! Well, not literally, of course. If any of us were to slip at the peak, the resulting fall would be a plunge to death. The peak was very thin and narrow, with some routes only allowing room for one person to pass through. I think that contributed fairly for the exhilaration I felt. Standing at the peak, I felt like we were on some sort of boundary between two different worlds. On the left was this beautiful body of water snaking through the land, and on the right was this organised chaos of houses, buildings and development.

Quite an amount of rock-climbing was involved as we made our way along the peak. The hills are shaped like the ridges of some pre-historic animal's backbones -- snaking its way up and down. Me, who has never even gone rock-climbing for leisure, was now holding onto these rocks for dear life! Some parts were just mind-blowing for me. Of course, that added to my excitement. I seem to enjoy scaring myself. Some people looked at me incredulously, when my reaction towards the whole thing especially the rock-climbing was; "IT WAS SO COOL! LET'S DO IT AGAIN!". Perhaps next time I would be much quicker, less nervous, and more confident.

I can safely say that the experience blew all my expectations away. I knew it was going to be fun, bu I didn't know it was going to be so exhilarating, so good! The leader actually was winging it during the descent, we descended from a part none of us or them had ever been to. That was the part that required so much rock-climbing. I was glad we did. We ascended from a point near Bukit Mas, and descended using the Klang Gate way. I wish we never had to leave, though.

Thank you everyone! It was really nice hanging with you guys.

I am just so happy. So, where next?

p/s: Please read this and know more about this magnificent but mistreated beauty.

Spines

2008-12-13T01:50:00.002+08:00

white creases among coloured spines
the face of dust settled in time
scattered bones, forgotten scars
these pages are turned, marked, loved
now tell me, who are we to fight this war?

familiar curves against the spines
a silent chaos so clandestine
hurdling bricks, crashing walls
these bullets were fired, hated, loved
now tell me, who are we to fight this war?

A Reflection

2008-12-02T22:01:00.005+08:00

[drawing by me]

Despite the disappointment I seemed to face, there's always a saving grace to the day. After the results came out yesterday, I was quite angry with myself. I know, I could have done better. Every drop, every ounce of effort makes a difference. And this was what mine measured up to? Pathetic.

The sky was soon enveloped in night fall. When my brother came into my room and exclaimed, "Moon! Look at the moon! It's smiling!" I was like, huh? How? But I went to the window anyways, and lo and behold! There was a brilliant smile in the sky!

[picture by Maryam]

The left 'eye' is actually the planet Venus, and the one on the right is Jupiter, completed by the crescent moon. How often will you be able to see such a sight, the cosmic sky smiling down upon us? Not very often, for the next one will probably be in 2052. Read more about it here and here.

When I told people via sms and msn to "Look at the moon! It's smiling!", they thought I had either lost it and gone crazy; or that I was waxing lyrical about my emotions in a metaphorical way... No one actually thought I was talking about the actual moon!

MashaAllah, what a sight to behold, isn't it? I'm glad I saw it. And yes, corny as it seems, the smile from the actual moon did bring a smile to this Moon's face. It's as if it was bringing comfort and solace to our lives, at the moment of sheer desperation this world is currently in. We have wonderful lives waiting to be lived, no?

I'll be gone soon, to Penang, InshaAllah. I can't wait. I miss the place, and especially the people. Enjoy the rest of your holidays, don't worry about your results. You will have plenty of time for that when the sem opens. :)

broken radio

2008-11-24T00:50:00.000+08:00

A Dream Thirsty Queen by ~toxicangel-moon on deviant ART

"Now these years locked in my drawer
I'll open to see
just to be sure
I can't sleep, I can't speak to you
I can't sleep..."
- Azure Ray, 'Sleep'.

I'm always sitting on the dial of the rusty television, waiting to rewind. But life has no such things. Instead of moving ahead, I'm stuck in a state of timelessness, suspended on a flickering screen. I sound like a broken record often times, particularly to myself. I don't know whether to love that or hate it. What I know is I can't keep away.

I'm high on dreaming, and hungry for Living.

To sit with a cold replacement, a plastic rewind button on a rusty television... it fulfills us for awhile. But it robs us. It robs us of our Now.

Somehow filaments and pixels have taken the place of the essence it's mimicking. We are high on dreaming, but hungry. Hungry for Life.

Images I'm holding on to blur the reality I am in. If only I could turn back time, just to be able to feel that way again. Napping in the maple tree, hiding in the bushes, lying in the grass... the bliss and glorification of things past.

...

Ann Arbor, Michigan. This was our backyard. Can you smell the vibrancy of spring? That boy, he's my youngest brother. He's about 1 year old in this picture. Now, he's 15. This is where we used to play. Roll around. We used to hide in those bushes and pretend we were in a secret clubhouse. Dreaming up secret plans and whispering under the leaves. Further up was the street, the very street we'd take an evening walk with our grandmother, the very street I'd wait for the school bus. It was a quaint, community neighbourhood of identical wooden houses with small kitchens. In front of our house was a sandbox.

This was about 6 or 7 years later, in Richmond, B.C, Canada. We've lived in Malaysia those years. And in 2001, here we were on the other side of the world. The memories of leaving were bittersweet, I know my parents sacrificed alot for this. And this maple tree is where I used to climb up its skinny branches after school, and just close my eyes to drift away with the wind. I wasn't tiny anymore, yet it still allowed me to lie on its caressing branches. The wing-shaped maple seeds would flutter down like little ballerinas in flight. When autumn came, the leaves would be deep red, but the hidden joy of this tree was during spring. Around its trunk, we could see green peeking out mischievously. And soon enough, it bloomed the vibrant red and yellows of my favourite flowers: daffodils and tulips!

5 years later, and I'm in Gombak, on the hill of this bittersweet school. I was always enchanted by the rolling hills surrounding Gombak. They seemed like backbones of a grand prehestoric animal, lazing about, yet guarding us in. On the morning drives to school, these humble yet majestic hills would be crowned with mist, and I would not take my eyes off them till I reached school. This rooftop, it may not look like much to some, but it holds so many memories for me, and for my schoolmates. This is where we played basketball everyday, eventhough the hoops were either bent or broken. The scorching heat would burn our backs, and we squinted to the sun. Girls and boys would fight over the court, or on good days, take turns. This is where we had waterfights, throwing balloons and spraying fire extingusher hoses at each other. And this exact spot is where I used to sit, alone, trying to get a good view.

I could go on forever.

but, "Time waits for no one".

I miss these, but the only way is forward.

I make (pretty) (Weird) art

2008-11-14T21:43:00.006+08:00

[top to bottom: Awash, Wide Slumber, Piecing Felicity]
all images copyright and property of me.

Next year, I am going to launch a project that will be a comprehensive collection by the time the year ends. What is it? Well, It's going to involve some art. Go figure.

But today I just want to share some sketches that I doodle with my pen in a lovely book given by Kim. They are somehow in between being weird, wonderful and crappy. The theme is just getting those flowing wordless emotional imageries and abstract thoughts to transmit from my mind down to my pen stroking across the pages. It's relaxing, therapeutic, and purposeful. I don't draw these to please anybody. They just appear. And after the average 10-30 minutes of scribbling, I would look down at the page, trying to fathom those confident black lines. Reading it like a poem secretly jotted down in a diary, like a smile across a face, like a lilt in a voice.

Who are the characters? It could be me, it could be a specific facet of me, it could be an idea, it could be anything and anyone. But they were all born from this place in my heart.

Artsy Fartsy

2008-11-14T21:02:00.004+08:00

If you've known me long enough, you'd know how important art is to me. It always has been, ever since I even had a sliver of memory in my young brain.

It can accompany me in times of sadness and loneliness, it can paint a whole new imaginative world for me, it can make people laugh. My (not-so-secret) weapon when dealing with kids has always been through art. From the days I used to babysit younger children, to calming down my little cousins who were crying by drawing their faces (they will always end up smiling), to he days I used to teach part-time in a kindergarten.

I am also a chronic hoarder, a sentimentalist. I used to have 3 thick dusty folders full of drawings and short stories I've made since I was in kindergarten. It lasted through all the moves that we had, well, until the last two. I was devastated to find out they were missing.

Even my determination to study architecture stemmed deep from my love for the arts. I think I was in second grade, drawing a perspective drawing. And my mother made an observation of how I could be a good architect. That developed slowly from childish ambition, to making choices during my high-school years, to where I am now, on the way of getting my first degree.

It wasn't just me who loved art. All my siblings did, and we got it from my mother. Over the years, I guess the guys lost interest in producing art (mostly in terms of drawing -- my brother now is more interested in graphics and photography) except my youngest brother. He particularly likes drawing comics. Anyways, now, the ones who are most involved are me and my sister. Geek-like. Oh, and we are taking the same architectural degree.

...

The holidays have now reached one week for me, and I feel like a Honda Jazz with an empty tank. At a roundabout. Hmmm.

On Wednesday me and my sister escaped from the house for a day. We went to the National Art Gallery (Balai Seni Lukis Negara) and also Petronas Gallery and Kinokuniya at KLCC.

The highlight exhibition for us that day has got to be the one at Petronas Gallery, although it was at the back and there were no posters about it at the entrance. It was the exhibition of blog drawings by Mazen Kerbaj, a Lebanese blog artist and jazz musician. At the time of the war in Lebanon circa July 2006, he posted drawing detailing aspects of life during war. His drawings were both humorous and dark, but ultimately truthful of the situation. I really recommend you all to go to the exhibition.

At KLCC, however, I blew my money on food and books. Who could resist a good book? So now I am broke.

I hope the rest of my holiday would go well.

Say what you want to say

2008-11-11T10:02:00.004+08:00

Well, hello there. Surprised yet? Yes, I'm back. But I'm still not going to overrule the chances of me disappearing again. My blog is sadly almost dead, don't you think? The reasons being my busy life, and also my laziness. Over time, I have so much to say, that in the end it all seems so overwhelming and I end up not saying anything. Sorry for cheating by putting pictures and videos, or fragmented poems and paragraphs. Hahaha, I haven't written a 'real' post since August!

So what better way to get me started than a tag? Generally, I hate doing tags... but this one seemed interesting enough.
Here goes nothing.

1) List 20 things that you want to say to people, but never will.
2) Don’t say who they are.
3) Never discuss it again.

one. I truly, truly, miss us.

two. Sometimes that tone of voice really hurts me. It really is like what other people say, but that's just the way you are so I'm okay with it, friend. But why can't you just take me the way I am?

three. I love you more than anyone would ever know. And yes, I am talking about you, even if you don't think I am.

four. I wish you would stop complaining about him. That's one thing I don't want to be like.

five. You would never be reading this. But I miss the old you. What happened? I wish we kept in touch more.

six. I think you are a self-centered and self-important person. No, we don't want to hear it all.

seven. I know what your inner turmoils are, if only vaguely. We never ever ever talk about this stuff, I know. But after all these years, don't you think we can read each other? And no, I wasn't talking about reading literally.

eight. You have really white teeth. XD

nine. When listening to you, there are two emotions. One of admiration. Another of jealousy. Not like you would care.

ten. Sometimes I imagine I was in your place. My life is so boring compared to yours.

eleven. Can you please just shut up? You need anger management.

twelve. I think you are gonna save the world. I am not kidding.

thirteen. I'm scared.

fourteen. I wish I was in your thoughts more often. Because sometimes I feel like a ghost.

fifteen. Oi. Are you leading a double life?

sixteen. Did you really mean what you said? I really don't know! I imagine you did, but I hope you didn't. But either way, thanks A LOT (being sarcastic here).

seventeen. I don't know what we'll do without you. Like, seriously. What am I gonna do??

eighteen. I know what you did! Don't repeat it, you don't have any reasons to.

nineteen. I know it was your time, you were not meant to be. But are you the reason why sometimes our table feels so empty? I'm not haunted, I just wonder. Wallahu'alam.

twenty. I'm sorry.

That was tough. It took me almost an hour! I guess I don't have much repressed anger. I'm not tagging anyone, but if you want to do this, feel free.

Now I can't wait to write new posts so this one would get off the main page and disappear into the archives. It's kind of scary.

p/s: oh yeah and I updated lobo.audition, you music lovers.

Hey look, it's October 30th

2008-10-30T09:53:00.005+08:00

It truly is something else when you find out that in the effect of jumping, you did not fall....

but you flew.

Here's to many, many more...

put this song on repeat

2008-10-28T15:12:00.003+08:00

it's just a picture, no video.
I still am in love with this song.

So I'm waiting for this test to end
So these lighter days can soon begin
I'll be alone but maybe more carefree
Like a kite that floats so effortlessly
I was afraid to be alone
Now I'm scared thats how I'd like to be
All these faces none the same
How can there be so many personalities
So many lifeless empty hands
So many hearts in great demand
And now my sorrow seems so far away
Until I'm taken by these bolts of pain
But I turn them off and tuck them away
'till these rainy days that make them stay
And then I'll cry so hard to these sad songs
And the words still ring, once here now gone
And they echo through my head everyday
And I dont think they'll ever go away
Just like thinking of your childhood home
But we cant go back we're on our own
Oh,
But i'm about to give this one more shot
And find it in myself
I'll find it in myself
So were speeding towards that time of year
To the day that marks that you're not here
And i think I'll want to be alone
So please understand if I dont answer the phone
I'll just sit and stare at my deep blue walls
Until I can see nothing at all
Only particles some fast some slow
All my eyes can see is all I know
Ohh..
But I'm about to give this one more shot
And find it in myself
I'll find it in myself

Half-post

2008-10-27T01:16:00.006+08:00

Because people have been telling me to update.

Sheesh.

So here you go. Nah.

Want a real post?

Wait till I'm not lazy. Hahahahaha.

p/s: don't worry, my next update (preferably after exams will be super long and spammed with pictures to fill you in on the many gaps you are now feeling, as an effect of thecoloursofmoon deprivation. You have been forewarned)

pps: Happy Birthday Za!

This night

2008-10-18T10:52:00.005+08:00

This night, I am by the sand. Colourless, grey sand; my thinning silhouette the only one against the horizon of infinite crashing waves. An ocean full of sickly salt, empty of any yellow sunshine.

This night, the seafoam is white. Sparkling, brilliant white. Foaming up and sparkling like the stars in the sky. But of what comfort do the stars offer me on this cold night? Pretty, they may be; but the reality is of their death. Flickering and imaginary. The canvas is black... vast, windy and black. And smells of salt.

This night, I cannot see the moon. She is hiding, calling me a fool. She may hide, but I know she is there, for who else is pulling the water like puppets on a string? Such blatant manipulation can only belong to her. Oh yes, the moon, the object of admiration. The moon, liar of light.

This night, all is silent but droning. A storm in midday will wake her up. But this night, hush. This night is long. This night no eyes close. This night will be over. This night will come again. This night, the last, and the next.

...will be back after this message...

2008-10-17T22:38:00.003+08:00

Picture from flickr.

Till we meet again.....

2008-09-29T23:16:00.003+08:00

Oh Ramadhan, the month we'll miss...

To all my family and friends;

Those who are away from home, we wish you were here!

I send my love to whichever corner of the world you are in now...

And please, my family and friends,

if I have ever done any wrong to you, please forgive me.

I love you all with all my heart.

Let's all pray for the souls of those who have departed, of those who are in need,

and for hope for the world.

May we meet this Holy month again, InshaAllah

May Allah bless you, Eid Mubarak!

love,

munira.

Where I wish to be now..

2008-09-19T01:26:00.004+08:00

...

Look what I found on these yellowing pages of a book of mine... I must have written it when I was about 15. It's surprising what one can discover by looking at one's past thoughts... I barely remember writing this... It's not even complete; merely a jumbled mess of words scribbled across a page.

"Home"

"I can't seem to find
A place I can call home
The only thing I know is my heart
even though It's broken apart

All the different faces
all the different phases

Just where are we heading?
Where are we in the end?
In the end we're over and in the ground
onto the next phase

All the different places
all the different phases

We keep moving on
Is this where we belong?

Tell me again
Where is the end
when the journey ends
Is there a place
Where I can finally breathe
Till I'm over
and done"

and on the following page were these untitled scribblings:

"Sad to see the oceans breathe
wash away my fantasies
sad to see the falling leaves
bring down my hopes and dreams"

Of course, one reason why I might have abandoned and forgotten these were that they utterly sucked and I moved on. But looking back, these are basic emotions to phases almost everyone goes through now and then. Confusion. Longing. And Fear.

"Don't worry, 15-year old Munira, everything will be fine," I'd now say to my then self.

silence

2008-09-13T04:20:00.004+08:00

Hello.

Sorry for the lack of updates.

It's not that I don't have anything to say.

In fact, there are too many things to say.

The emotional being that I am now, is saddened deeply by things falling all around me.

I could only wish I could fix things.

I try.

But it's all up to Allah, in the end.

Sometimes, I just don't know what to say.

I'll try to write something inspirational later, but I can't promise anything.

p/s: I've been tumblr-ing.

Al-Baqarah, 183-186

2008-09-04T20:47:00.004+08:00

"O ye who believe! Fasting is prescribed to you as it was prescribed to those before you, that ye may learn self-restraint,-

(Fasting) for a fixed number number of days; but if any of you is ill, or on a journey, the prescribed number (should be made up) from days later. For those who can do it (with hardship), is a ransom, the feeding of one that is indigent. But he that will give more, of his own free will, it is better for him. And it is better for you that ye fast, if only ye knew.

Ramadhan is the (month) in which was sent down the Qur'an, as a guide to mankind, also clear (signs) for guidance and judgment (between right and wrong). So every one of you who is present during this month should spend it in fasting, but if any of you is ill, or on a journey, the prescribed period (should be made up) by days later. Allah intends facility for you; He does not want to put you to difficulties. (He wants you) to complete the prescribed period, and to glorify Him. In that He has guided you; and perchance ye shall be grateful.

When My servants ask thee concerning me, I am indeed close (to them): I listen to the prayer of every supplicant when he calleth on Me: let them also, with a will, listen to My call, and believe in Me: that they may walk in the right way."

-al-Baqarah, 183-186

The Colours of Moon

Moving

Listen to Yourself

some of my latest drawings

wordly wishlist

The Heritage Race!

Come on and register to enter the Heritage Race in conjunction with Heritage Studies Annual Exhibition 2011! Learn lots of new things whilst having fun! A grand cash prize waiting to be won =)haaa ni poster baru! with date correction :) 28 June 2011

Heritage Studies Annual Exhibition 2011

Dhaka, pt. 2

Dhaka, pt.1

Eyes

National Poetry Month

Starry Night

Cerita si Bulan

The Glass

The Night Dancer

Dream people

WRITE

Empty studio (a freewrite)

Paper Money

November Pictures - Maryam had a Little Lamp

November Pictures - Amin Sisters

The Middle

deviantArt Birthday & websites

The skeletons, pt 1

She was born, she was trapped, she was buried.

Sorrow Season

The Honey Trees

Alma mater

Jap.

The consequence of sounds

If I want to be like this too, I have to work for it.

Facebook.

Extra Heart

No More Keeping My Feet on the Ground

Lost & Found

Little Soldier Boy

Love, pt.ii

Love, pt.i

kata.mata's KATA.JUMPA

The Inevitable

Morning, awake, asleep.

Silver springs

Life is a Kite

Remember December,

This is not a blog update (or is it?)

Dream Fire

Strange Critters. Cute. Cuddly. Creepy.

kata.mata & raya

Details in the fabric

ClapclaP

While we wait for the dust to settle...

Hearts are Paper Mysteries

uni(verse)

One Thousand Moons

Tinta Alam Maya

with every hardship, there is relief

I'm scratching at the surface now

Titik Garisan.

Trains

Siren

Kapal Terbang Kertas

Haze

I'm a prisoner of words unsaid

I have talented friends

This is not a blog post.

Labyrinthine

A review of some time past

Turned to Ashes

She

Breakbone

So, It's Holiday Time

Under the open sky, oh my

Tanpa tajuk

365

A Picture

I am puking my freaking brains out

I am the biggest loser that has ever walked upon this earth

Filling Time and Space

I'm Alive, too

Come on and register to enter the Heritage Race in conjunction with Heritage Studies Annual Exhibition 2011! Learn lots of new things whilst having fun! A grand cash prize waiting to be won =)

haaa ni poster baru! with date correction :) 28 June 2011