FS blog is getting cuter. And I’m getting softer, urgh.

Either way, it’s nice to drop by here once a while.

Am studiously studying [heck] for the last oral exam for first year final examination; which is the killer Physiology, so yeah, I really need all the prayers and prayers I can get.

You know, Ara-chi runs a pondok telefon service, and our friends usually hang around the house calling home from her laptop.

Sometimes I’ll just sit by, pretending to be immense in my studies as I listen to them chattering away.

It amuses me, slightly, that people can talk forever with their family.

Me, well, I sort of call just to listen to their voices. Too bad they’re as talkative as a pile of stone.

Haven’t heard their voices for a while now. I miss them, I suppose.

Oh, and I really need to go down to Kelantan’s house soon. I’m rotting inside out for keropok-craving.

Anyone eating keropok out there should be extremely grateful, and pray to Allah for ease for all Muslim worldwide.

I better stop before I ramble on my aching shoulder next. My trapezius seems to be in a permenant contracture state nowadays.

Happy days, ya gama3ah.

Haven’t been here for a while. Someone needs to sweep out the cobwebs.

It’s winter break and I’ve finished downloading aired episodes of Clannad and Clannad After Story. I’ve also downloaded several OSTs that I love.

Nothing is more soothing than intriguing background music.

And never should I pass out the opportunity to drive my roommate nuts by changing my G700 ringtone, day by day.

I shall start preparing for final exam now. After I’m finish with this post, of course.

A bit too late to start a post on life in Egypt, isn’t it?

Not much difficult than life in Malaysia. After all, I’m still living under His care no matter where I am.

The weather’s a little different…

The air’s a little thicker…

The people’s a little harsher…

The traffic’s a little congested…

The language’s a little difficult…

But nothing the optimistic wolf cannot brave through.

Or so I think.

You know, there’s one thing I’ll never be happy about in Egypt. It’s their barbaric electric tariff rate system.

I’d never figure out how much is the rate per unit used, which took a wild turn and confused me till the point of murder.

The last thing I know, I’m fishing out LE650.75 to pay for our building’s and my house’s electric bill. Which is beyond outrageous.

Sigh. It’s not like things will sort itself out by fuming in blogs, eh? I wish they would.

At least, I wish there’s a room for me in a productive two-ways communication over this issue.

Productive communication. Ah, that’s rare, you know.

So far, there’s only one person I could converse over technical issues I’m not familiar with without feeling stupid or inferior.

But if conversing with him is futile, who else could I turn to?

I need to start scouting for reliable person in Egypt. Catalogue them into a brigade, if I must, so that I’ll know who to turn to regardless of issues.

Then, there’s the internet line that needs to be streamlined.

Let’s not forget of the issue over our imarah cleanliness.

Oh, and I kept forgetting to call the electrician to fix the lighting of our imarah.

And there’s the bolt needing replacement.

Imarah sure is bugging me. Is there no one I can ask for help?

I mean, supposedly I’m the ganglion, where all issues come to accumulate. There should be different postganglionic fibres for each issue, right?

Therefore my sanity could still be mine.

There’s five issues altogether. Surely there’s at least five reliable female peers around, right?

Right?

Oh boy. How I wish for the contract to be over soon. I’m looking forward to be moving out from this place.

Imarah is sufficient, even more should I say, in terms of facilities and liveliness. It’s just… I don’t want to do this anymore.

I don’t want to be the person-in-charge anymore. It’s sickening.

I’m not the person to have people walking in front of me. Hell, never would I need people walking behind me.

I just need people walking on my side.

Clannad After Story, episode 11

Mari berbicara soal kasut.

Kasut adalah sejenis inedible kuih yang melindungi kaki kita. Ianya biasanya bertapak; tebal mahupun nipis. Setiap kasut mempunyai fungsinya yang tersendiri. Sebagai contoh, anda tidak akan membawa kasut raya untuk pergi membeli ikan di pasar, kan?

Anda akan? Anda pernah pergi pasar ke? Tahu tak betapa becaknya tempat jual ikan? Dengan bau ikan yang melekat tu?

Ikut suka hati anda la.

Budak perempuan suka membeli kasut. Kawan-kawan aku di INTEC rata-rata sering menghabiskan wang JPA mereka dengan membeli kasut samada di Jukebox, Mix Sassion mahupun kedai Bata biasa.

Biasanya perempuan akan mempunyai satu kasut kulit hitam bertutup yang digunakan dalam acara formal, sekurang-kurangnya dua pasang kasut melaram (yang bereben-reben tu) dan satu kasut sukan. Tidak ketinggalan juga selipar bagi membeli ikan di pasar.

Seperti standardnya, aku juga ada kasut kulit hitam bertutup untuk kegunaan acara formal walaupun secara hakikinya, ia sepasang kasut yang melecehkan.

Secara peribadi, aku lebih gemarkan kasut yang boleh dibawa berlari.

Aku ada satu sneakers yang aku beli sebab aku sukakan corak camouflage tetapi ketika membelinya, aku tak perasan terlukis tengkorak dan tertulis Pirate Queen disisinya. Nampak ganas… fuyyo. Mak aku tak perasan, so aku terselamat.

Aku ada sandal yang Papa beli sebagai kasut raya tahun lepas. Sandal itu amat amat besar tetapi aku beli sebab aku suka corak camouflage, hahaha. Papa tak kesah aku beli apa, janji aku pakai tapi bila balik je rumah, aku dimarahi Mama sebab cari sandal lelaki.  Memang betul pun, sandal tu tak matching ngan baju raya tahun lepas. Hoho.

Itu sahaja tiga kasut yang aku ada.

Sampai sahaja di INTEC, perkara lain yang jadi.

Aku beli kasut sukan, sebab aku tak sanggup nak kotorkan kasut Pirate aku. Sebab tapaknya putih, setiap minggu aku akan sental supaya ianya kekal putih. Heck, I even wash it after every two usages. Ianya amat memenatkan.

Kasut sukan aku itu sama dengan kasut Rahmah. Malangnya, kasut sukan itu berwarna putih dan biru. Demi mengekalkan keserian putihnya, setiap malam aku sental kasut tu.

Amat penat. Aku nyaris je campak kasut tu dalam mesin basuh Cemara, tapi housemate aku larang. Aku tak faham mereka.

Untuk ke BTN pula, kasut hitam diperlukan. Aku tak nak pakai kasut hitam kulit aku (after all was said and done, aku still sayang kasut tu…) maka aku gagahkan diri membeli kasut hitam baru. Maka aku tetapkan hati mencari kasut yang sejibik macam kasut hitam ber-line merah Nuha.

Dan aku jumpa. Penat Hamizah dan Nadhirah temankan aku.

Ketika mencari kasut hitam Nuha itu, kami bertemu dengan kasut-kasut getah yang bertanah putih dan bercorak abstrak biru dan merah yang berlainan bagi setiap belah kasut. Amat cantik.

Ira try satu. Aku try satu lagi. Amat seronok, maka kami berpakat untuk membelinya.

Hamizah tak nak beli, dia kata kasut tu buruk. Dengan kejinya kami paksa dia beli juga.

Maka hari itu sahaja, aku membeli dua pasang kasut. Dan dengan rasminya, kasut getah itu menjadi kasut rasmi Atiqah, Hamizah dan Nadhirah.

Sepatutnya belikan ke Ustazah Fatahiyah, Nuha dan Khadijah sekali. Apa la…

Kelmarin, aku merenung kembali kasut getah aku itu. Aku baru perasan, ia bercorak flame. Hoho. Macam tongkat House yang kedua. Ianya bercorak flame juga.

Aku juga perasan, ia bertanah putih. Tidak dapat dinafikan, aku suke beli kasut bertanah putih.

…

Kenapa?!! Ikut sedap hati je beli warna putih! Cepat kotor, tau! Ingat senang ke nak sental?!

Sudahlah.

Setakat ni dah tiga kasut beli sepanjang belajar di INTEC. 

Tak, empat. Aku ada cerita ke pasal pembelian kasut aku yang keempat? Jap, aku scroll up sekejap.

Tak, aku belum. Ceritanya begini…

Suatu hari, aku dan Khadijah ke Ole-Ole untuk survey tempat buat button badge. Waktu itu musim hujan dan aku tak pakai baju sejuk. Amat sejuk sekali cuaca.

Apa aku merapu ni?

Kami tak jumpa kedai print button badge di Ole-Ole. Luar sudah hujan, maka kami melepak di ground floor dulu.

Aku bosan.

Ternampak kedai kasut. Ternampak deretan kasut tumit tinggi. Aku teringatkan Tsunade. Kenal kan, si Godaime tua kerepot itu? Yang bagi rantai pusaka dia kepada Naruto?

Nenek itu mampu berlari dalam kasut tumit tinggi. Maka aku yang bersifat curious bila bosan ini ingin mencuba perkara sedemikian.

Masuk ke kedai itu. Minta dengan akak salesgirl itu kasut tumit tinggi yang bertapak penuh, bukan kasut killer yang bertumit runcing.

Akak tu bagi ke aku. Aku try pakai. Khadijah menggeleng kepala sambil berzikir, “Ya Rabbi…” Dia selalu berzikir ketika ada dengan aku.

Aku berjalan elok-elok. Kemudian, berjalan laju-laju pula. Kemudian, aku tingkatkan kelajuan.

Akak tu tengok aku semacam.

“Akak, boleh ke berlari pakai kasut ni?”

“Dik, mana ada orang lari dengan kasut tumit tinggi.”

Aku baru je nak berhujah pasal Tsunade, tapi aku tengok muka akak tu pun, aku dah jamin yang dia tak pernah tengok citer Naruto.

“Kasut ni high maintainence ke?”

Akak tu gelak.

“Maksud saya, nak kene sental every week ke? Cepat kotor? Saya tak larat asyik nak sental kasut je.” Warna kasut ni koko.

“Tak la, dik. Kasut ni dari kain baldu. Adik just berus sikit-sikit je.”

“Oh.” Kain baldu tak yah sental ye? Mana la aku tahu bab-bab kain ni.

Aku call Mama. “Ma, boleh ke Ika beli kasut raya sekarang? Nanti Ika claim duit ngan Mama.”

“Boleh.”

“Kasut ni lain sikit tau, dari tahun-tahun lepas.”

“Lain?” Mak aku berbunyi cuak. “Macam mana lainnya tu?”

“Adelah. Nanti raya baru Ika tunjuk.”

Mak aku ketawa. Khadijah ketawa. Akak salesgirl tu pun ketawa.

“Okay lah, akak. Saya beli.”

Dan terbelilah kasut aku yang keempat. Kasut baldu koko yang bertumit tinggi. Balik je bilik, ianya dikerumuni housemates dan jiran aku. Fatima menggeleng kepala, “Atiqah, tingginya kasut ko. Dua inci setengah ni.”

“Oh ye?”

Bapak tinggi… Sepatutnya aku beli yang seinci or seinci setengah je, considering this is my first heels.  Mesti cuak gile mak aku time raya nanti.

Tak kesahlah. Dah beli.

Esoknya aku pakai ke kolej. Budak-budak perempuan macam bangga je tengok aku.

“Akhirnya Atiqah beli kasut perempuan jugak…”

Pujian ke ape ni, kak?

Sepanjang hari aku berjalan dari pagar depan sampai lah ke Blok W, berlari ke tandas, berjalan atas tar, panjat tangga… Dan aku tak tergeliat pun.

Mantap r tu… kasut ni lulus ujian ketahanan Atiqah.

Balik ke rumah hari tu, belakang ankle kiri aku lebam.

p/s: Mak aku tak tahu lagi pasal ciri-ciri kasut raya aku. Jangan bagitau dia lagi, tau.

Mrs. and Mr. Scooter

Guys, this is a tri-scooter.

You stand on it on one feet and thrust yourself forward or backward by pushing the ground with another.

Your speed is dependent on the force you exert.

At home, it is the property of Hakim, the hilarious little boy who cannot cycle a bicycle yet. That is why mom buy him scooter after scooter.

Oh, the boy has this tendency to play his toy to smithereens. You should see his toy laptops. I count three collecting dust under the tv cabinet.

Hakim is quite a pro with his scooter. He uses Mr. Scooter to commute from the kitchen for his snacks and to the lounge for his books.

(Hakim tak berpuasa, Hakim ber’kuasa’.)

Now that I am back, it is my obligation to play along with his toys. I mean, sharing is caring, right?

So I hop on the scooter and commute from the kitchen for my snacks (ba’di tarawih, mazbuut) and to the lounge for my laptop.

At top speed. Yohoooo! Skid to a halt in front of the reading boy.

“Angah, kenapa main scooter Hakim?!”

“Hish,” Jump off Mr. Scooter. “Kedekut.”

I resume my seat in front of the laptop, continue to download ebook after ebook (I’m supposed to re-download Maple Story for the gazillionth time, but I lack the necessary patience.) while munching my kuih.

The young boy dutifully drag his scooter back to the his toy garage, which is actually his  piling of toys on the carpet in front of the tv.

My kuih is finished. I need more.

Glance around for the scooter. Scooter feen?

I walk myself to the scooter parked in front of the glaring Playhouse Disney. Steady myself on it. Take a step and-

“Kak ngah, scooter tu ada had berat. Nanti patah.”

It is mom, watching me from the kitchen.

“Tak leh ke Ika nak main?”

“Nanti patah.”

“Okay la…”

Again, I jump off. Walk to the kitchen and grab another hot kuih. Stare discontentedly at Hakim on full speed on Mr. Scooter.

He stops by his futon. Turns around and waves at the static scooter.

“Bye, scooter. Hakim nak tidur.”

I laugh.

Papa kejutkan aku yang tertidur atas lantai, padahal tilam Hakim yang empuk hanya beberapa cm jauhnya dari aku.

Tabiat buruk duduk di INTEC. Now I can’t bring myself to sleep on anything except the floor or the sofa. (Kalau korang tengok katil aku sekarang… Ya Rabbi. Mentang-mentang la aku tak de kat rumah, budak-budak ni gi conteng cadar aku. Bermacam corak ada.) Alhamdulillah la sofa ruang tamu itu empuk, kalu tak… melarat la sakit belakang aku.

Hari ini, I’m on driver duty. Kena hantar adik-adik SMI ke sekolah and kutip Hazim yang habis satu lagi paper UPSR dia. As Hazim will be back in two hour or so after I send the SMIans, aku lepak r kat sekolah sekejap.

Borak ngan muallimah, ngan budak-budak…

Tiba-tiba, Ustaz Rashid datang.

“Assalamualaikum, Atiqah!” Lebar gile senyuman dia. “Atiqah datang tepat pada masanya!”

Ni sah nak minta aku ngajar di SMI ni. ”Boleh je, ustaz.”

Aku tak kesah. (Apsal aku banyak tak kesah kebelakangan ini?) Better than duduk kat rumah, melalut entah pape dalam blog and terhakis all benda yang belajar di INTEC.

But then… aku teringat. Dah la aku duduk kat INTEC, rumah yang call aku. Tu pun aku kata, “Sorry papa, Ika sibuk sikit ni. Pas ni Ika call balik.”

And I never return the call. Oh man. Membaca apa yang aku tulis membuatkan aku rasa amat beruk sekali.

Balik pun tak. Bila dah balik ni, bukannya nak duduk rumah diam-diam macam anak perempuan yang baik. Hakim macam rindukan aku je… Dia tunggu aku bawak dia baca buku dekat Dar Nur Az-Zahra.

Now, teaching Physics and Math for the rest of school session during Ramadhan?

Okay… now what have I gotten myself into?

I accepted without consulting my parents since I know this is my call. When I came back home, I told papa of it. He approved of my decision and consider it another amal jariah during this holy month.

Though mom seems a bit upset. I dunno. I should cut back on my participation in foreign activities.

Hope everything will be well.

p/s: Teacher Atiqah is back. Starting esok. Wah! *tinggal laptop and study Physics and Math* 

Oh, aku pergi SRI tadi. Budak-budak sume jerit, “Teacher Atiqah! Masuk la kelas kitorang!”

“Mana boleh, budak bertuah. Teacher tak ngajar dekat SRI dah.”

They remember my name!~ *sheepish sebab aku tak ingat nama diorang*

I haven’t blab on INTEC for a while, have I?

There are 9 girls and 9 guys in my class, MEG3. We the 18 Mousketeers are a bunch of happy grapes, though a bit eccentric depending on the topic at hand.

Our class rep is this goatee from Terengganu who seems to be erupting this funny aura and thick accent wherever he goes. He could repeat himself twice and I still yet to decode him.

Let he be known as Fahmi, though he likes to call himself ketua.

Duh.

The vice class rep is the one thumping her forehead everytime she feels like. The one being constantly frozen in class, due to her unfortunate choosing of placement, which is directly under the fan and in line with the blaring air-cond.

"Siapa penolong?" Ustazah asked.

I raised my hand. "Atiqah."

"Syafiqah?"

"Atiqah."

"Oh, Ikah."

"Atiqah."

"Okay, Atiqah."

Though they call me Atiqah, ketua keens on calling me penolong. I haven’t notice whether he still does; I lost track of time.

We’ve got tonnes of assignment, all of which I haven’t done anything but scouraging for info.

We had this patient-doctor interaction [whereby I was unfortunately paired with Fahmi] of taking medical history, something I’ve none trouble or so.

We had to perform it in front of the class, something I’ve none trouble or so.

But I was awkward. Something happened out of plan, and I went haywire. I kept edging on my seat, preparing to bolt back towards my seat.

"Why are you looking so nervous? Haven’t you met a male doctor before?"

Or so was his line. And his pose. Man. I wish I was back teaching at SRI.

"What?" Increduously. My mandible was hanging. Kamil laughed.

News, doc. Small talk is to relieve the patient’s nervousness, not adding it!

And our teacher said, "Are you flirting with her?"

Class laughed.

I nearly puke myself. Get this over with!

And it was over. We never spoke of it again.

Though we have another role play to come. I’ll give him a piece of my mind when we get down to it.

And I better go now. Lapar.

There is an ISK [This is Our History] program at Masjid Munawwarah today and I’m supposed to be present. The reason for the truant was simple.

My parents and the gang came over to Shah Alam!

Mama brought me a huge plastic bag of keropok, kuih baulu and some flavoured tea from Cameron Highland. I looked at the bulge and remarked, "Seems like I won’t have to buy nasi for a week."

And the saved money could be use to indulge myself with the prospect of buying a laptop of my own. I shall decorate it with FMA stickers.

Mama told me Yaya missed me. She tagged along when the folks accompanied me during INTEC registration day and the day they went back to Kelantan, she took up the residency of my bed.

And fell out the next morning.

Mama said the fall was bad. She had a huge cut on her lips and her left cheek bruised heavily, as if someone had just bashed the poor kid out.

I know she must have cried. Though she is tough [by kid standard], she is not that tough.

It took a while to recover. Luckily it was the school holls, so she didn’t have to skip school.

Yaya was never a soft-hearted girl at first glance. She’s bossy, perhaps even bossier than me.

Though she could be girly at time. Like, when she ran/yelled for cover when Hakim happily ran after her, threatening her with his plastic toy car.

Her annoying tendency to buy Barbie stuffs.

And her fetish with pink. Though she seems to be keen with blue nowadays.

You know how I hate piercing? Well, she hates it too. She only wore half of her pair of earrings, since she backed off after the first shot.

See, I’ve told you piercing hurts.

p/s: Do read my blog. I once wrote about her Teacher’s Day gift to me. I like her.

"See you again."

"Tomorrow." Smiles.

Contemplates. Smiles.

The typical problem with Cholerics is that they expect people to be like them, think like them and even act like them.

Just don’t be better than them, or you’ll get an irked leader.

Which was why they were often annoyed with having to repeat themselves or figuring out why some just differ from them.

Take me. I’m a Choleric. I like to figure out people, though sometimes I missed out on crucial points due to them being so invisible to the naked eyes.

She talked to me about him. I had to sigh.

He is weirdly weird. When I was his age, I wasn’t that stupid.

I choose to talk to people, not that I wait for them to approach me. I am talkative at one point and then quiet at one. I like to switch from Sanguine mode to Phlagmetic mode.

I express my thoughts openly and never had problem with obtaining what I want, because I let the bearer know what I want.

Translated to I am demanding.

I earn things through good grades and attitudes. I know how pointless it is to get good grades but sucks helplessly at the latter department.

Why on earth did he not follow my footsteps? Why on earth did he not do what I did when I was his age?

Those remarks show what a true-blood Choleric I am.

I am hopeless. I cannot demand the impossible from others.

He is not me. But he compared himself to me.

Which just added to the list of things I hate.

I detest being compared.

Please spare me from the world of comparation. I don’t need snivellers to put me at par with anything.

It’s just…

Everyone’s unique. I may be smarter than most at one department, but I’m helpless at another.

We complement each other. If everyone is a great cook, who’s going to be the great customer?

Isn’t that what makes the world goes around?

Let’s shone our advantages and better our dis. I’m sure we can all live happily ever after.

Have a good day, people, while I sort out this platter of mine.

It was quite enjoyable, writing posts in Malay. I nearly forgot the joy of expressing thoughts in my mothertongue.

You see, I have some happy thoughts I never wanted to forget, so let me express them in writing so that I could always come back and read them again and again.

If you read my blog, you’ll notice I went down to SRI with Hakim yesterday.

Two of my favourite person interacted. I managed to snap a picture before he could run and hide his ‘handsome’ face.

I showed it to Hakim.

"Hakim, ni sape?"

"Ni Hakim."

"Bukan. Yang duduk tepi Hakim tu."

"Yang baju dia blue?"

"Ha’ah."

"Tu kawan Hazim."

"Kawan Angah la."

"Kawan Hazim la. Angah tak sekolah situ."

"Okay la. Sape tu?"

"Budak nangis."

So he remembered. I laughed.

"Kenapa dia nangis?"

"Sebab Hakim tak bagi mainan dekat dia."

—–

"Handsome nya Raimi hari ni."

He chuckled. Ikbal looked sick.

"Mesti lagi handsome kalau pakai tie."

Again, he chuckled. Ikbal laughed.

"Mana tie Raimi?"

"Kita malas nak gosok."

He stole my line!

—–

This one was on 7th April 08.

"Relaks la beb!"

The whole class silenced as I flinched.

This one was on 30th April 08.

"Relaks la bro!"

The whole class laughed as I chuckled defeatedly.

"Kenapa teacher tak pakai sandals?"

"Raimi ni kan, bila teacher pakai sandals, kata selipar. Bila teacher pakai kasut, tanya pakai sandals. Haish."

Laughter.

—–

4th May. Came by to visit.

"Teacher pakai selipar askar!" It was Hazim’s voice.

I chuckled.

—–

That’s it for today. I’ll cash in others as they come by.

I love my life and am heavenly grateful of it. Alhamdulillah.