SUPERBUNNEH!!!

Hoxton Street Monster Supplies - Salt Made from Tears of…via....

Thu, 31 May 2012 20:29:34 +0800

Hoxton Street Monster Supplies - Salt Made from Tears of…via. Chopping onions?

"Give your daughters difficult names. Give your daughters names that command the full use of tongue...."

Thu, 31 May 2012 06:00:48 +0800

“Give your daughters difficult names. Give your daughters names that command the full use of tongue. My name makes you want to tell me the truth. My name doesn’t allow me to trust anyone that cannot pronounce it right.”

- Warsan Shire. I love this, because not everybody could pronounce my full name.

Keira Knightley by Ellen Von Unwerth for Vogue Italia Jan. 2011

Thu, 31 May 2012 05:54:28 +0800

Keira Knightley by Ellen Von Unwerth for Vogue Italia Jan. 2011

"Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of your time. There are..."

Thu, 31 May 2012 05:19:33 +0800

“Unless it’s mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it’s a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love shouldn’t be one of them.”

- Dream for an Insomniac. You may be cynical, but this expresses my stand on love.

Yes it is, Calvin.

Wed, 30 May 2012 04:22:51 +0800

Yes it is, Calvin.

Repetition

Wed, 30 May 2012 03:14:00 +0800

The moment I received a message from you my chest hurts like it had been punched although I have never been punched in the chest but it sure feels like I know what it felt like to be punched in the chest whenever I think of you.

After several attempts, my father’s sister finally managed...

Tue, 29 May 2012 04:54:33 +0800

After several attempts, my father’s sister finally managed to persuade us to sell my late father’s Nissan Sentra to her. As she came to pick up the car this evening, I wept as I thought of one day I came home from the university to be surprised with a brand new Nissan Sentra, my father all beamed with joy. I thought of the times we rode in the car, having either ABBA or Fleetwood Mac blasting in the car stereo, singing along to Mama Mia or Go Your Own Way - only sometimes to be interrupted by my father’s intentional, shameless loud farts, resulting in me clawing at the car window gasping for breath while he burst out laughing.

Farewell, car (because you don’t have a name). Thank you for all the rides and the memories, and please be good to my aunt.

"Be regular and ordinary in your life like a bourgeois, so that you may be violent and original in..."

Tue, 29 May 2012 04:40:57 +0800

“Be regular and ordinary in your life like a bourgeois, so that you may be violent and original in your work.”

- Gustave Flaubert.

Peter Fuss had the idea to place the station in Gdansk in Poland...

Tue, 29 May 2012 02:41:00 +0800

Peter Fuss had the idea to place the station in Gdansk in Poland these posters. With a message of peace, these posters are a reminder not to think with stereotypes, and the need to step back from what we hear. via

Things my mom needs to learn before I am gone

Mon, 28 May 2012 04:02:00 +0800

How to use the auto-teller machine.
How to use the petrol pump.
The black coffee she makes is probably the best ever in the world.
There are bad people.
Or perhaps there are no bad people, only people who are mislead.
And evidently, she needs to be less trusting of others and more of ME.
This includes trusting me on my driving skills. After all, I am the one who has been driving her all around town now.
The love between her and my dad, how they held hands when they slept and how they would often tease each other mercilessly and had a good laugh about it afterwards - is the kind of love that I sought after.
That I love her more than anything she could ever imagine.
Even when there are things in my life I could not tell her because it might break her heart as much as it had broken mine.
God reaches out to everyone in many different ways, sometimes catered to that person according to their interests/lifestyle etc. In my case, His words reach out to me through poetry.
The way I move stealthily in town and how I could make myself invisible in almost every event I attended is probably the reason I could survive such tragedy in my life.
Which is why, I would be perfectly OK in a foreign land all by myself one day.
Also the fact that I could live solely on peanut butter for a week would help too.
Accept the fact that not everybody wants to see us happy.
Accept also the fact that sometimes, these people are the ones who we had never expected at all.
My brain thinks in English language, so please bear with me when sometimes I go, “Ma, ini sakit teruk sangat.” (Ma, it hurts so badly.)
Falling in love takes time, but unfortunately falling out of it does not.
Cat languages.
That whatever it is, she needs to stop worrying, that even it takes time, even I myself find it hard to believe - her only daughter will one day find happiness and we will all be OK.

Hi Shaza, Stampede HQ should have one of these slides in...

Mon, 28 May 2012 02:29:00 +0800

Hi Shaza, Stampede HQ should have one of these slides in addition to our antics. No, I insist.

“Your hearts are like my hands, some days all they do is...

Fri, 25 May 2012 05:01:47 +0800

“Your hearts are like my hands, some days all they do is tremble.” - My muse, Anis Mojgani.

"As Muslims, we often focus so much on Islam’s dos and dont’s that we miss the bigger picture. Islam..."

Thu, 24 May 2012 04:00:59 +0800

“As Muslims, we often focus so much on Islam’s dos and dont’s that we miss the bigger picture. Islam came to perfect our manners, and yet we are willing to scream and shout to win an argument about moon sighting or zabiha meat. Islam came to build our bond with our Creator, and while we wear our hijabs and kufis and plan big Islamic events, we delay our prayers. Islam came to establish a community of believers, but while we decorate our masjids with gold and silver, our prayer rows remain empty. Islam came to teach us about God, and despite wearing His words on our necklaces and decorating our houses with them, when those verses are recited to us, our hearts remain unmoved and our lives unchanged.”

- Yasmin Mogahed in The Essence of Islam: Are We Missing the Point? via

Of courage, of gentleness, of compassion, of generous love....

Thu, 24 May 2012 03:37:00 +0800

Of courage, of gentleness, of compassion, of generous love. “Everything I wanted to be,” according to the writer. Well, me too.

Twin witches

Wed, 23 May 2012 03:51:18 +0800

Her: I know you are going to be OK.
Me: How did you figure that one out?
Her: Because you have poetry.

"I’m really afraid to feel happy, because it never lasts."

Wed, 23 May 2012 00:33:15 +0800

“I’m really afraid to feel happy, because it never lasts.”

- Thank you for sharing my sentiment, Mr Andy Warhol.

The Mad Girls Love Song - Sylvia Plath

Mon, 21 May 2012 23:49:14 +0800

katuriankaturiankaturian

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Wow.

Mon, 21 May 2012 03:02:23 +0800

Wow.

"What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense."

Mon, 21 May 2012 02:38:44 +0800

“What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.”

- Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis. GPOY.

It happened again last night. The meltdown. Heartbeats racing...

Mon, 21 May 2012 02:38:00 +0800

It happened again last night. The meltdown. Heartbeats racing faster than usual, palms all sweaty.

I guess it started with wedding invitations and how I had to decline them all because I don’t feel like going. As much as I am happy for my friends, I could not bring myself to go. At least not yet. The feeling of self-unworthiness accumulated from there.

Whilst other people’s lives are all happiness and rainbows, mine on another hand, is a wreck. My brain did it again. It searched throughout the nook and cranny of the permeable membrane for all the what ifs and why nots. And it all came down to one conclusion: Zana, you suck. Funny how your own central control tower and yourself are your biggest critics.

Then it took a turn as to why I always screw things up - even I blamed myself for Little Ben’s passing. Little things like that, even. I was sobbing uncontrollably and it woke my mom up - and it frustrated her that this still haunts me. She was puzzled as to why my breakdown happened so sudden, when only during the evening I took her to Kenny Rogers’ for lunch and I was so chirpy. While she loves me and she wishes for me to be strong and to be back on my feet, she doesn’t understand that this thing still breaks me.

How could it not break me? When I love someone, I love him wholeheartedly. I would assume him all his responsibilities, I will not let him lift a finger to do a thing, I will know what word makes him blush and I will not utter it to him, or to anyone, at all. I will not let anyone speak ill of him, and the least he could do for me, is to stand up for me when his own people are against me. He doesn’t have to love me back, for all it’s worth.

When people say, you need to stop thinking about this and move on, I wish it was that easy. I think I have said that before, how I wish I am strong enough to move on (again putting the blame on myself). You look OK, why does this happen again? To be honest, I don’t know. I want to be OK, for God’s sake - you have to believe me! I don’t want you to look at me with that pitiful look in your eyes - I want you to take me for ice-cream, or help me to pick up my new headphones, or talk to me about all the cities of the world you have visited.

I want you to accompany me to the top of hill and watch me make a fool out of myself by reading some of my amateurish poems out loud, the ones I have never read to anyone.

I had my ok moments and there are days when I look at happy couples, and again I am reiterating, as much as I am happy for them - I admit I’d feel a tinge of jealousy and wonder why it doesn’t happen to me. I am not a bad person to not deserve happiness like everyone else, am I? Maybe there will be a day when I won’t feel as jumpy and will start to trust again - where I would shake off my imaginary job as The Czar’s food tester, living with the fear that someday I might be poisoned somehow. And with my title as a divorcée in this country and culture where (primarily Malay) women are expected to shoulder all the faults out of a failed marriage and the guys get away scot free, I wonder if there will be someone else out there who would have the courage to come up to me and say I am wonderful and make me feel wonderful again.

Because I don’t feel like one.