Stick and stones do break your bones.

Bersangka baik sesama manusia memang payah. Asal nampak benda pelik sikit saja, yang negatif mesti laju-laju masuk dalam kepala, yang positif macam segan-segan saja nak masuk, setakat melintas saja. Nampak lelaki peluk-peluk bahu sakit, terus gay. Tengok bola dekat stadium terus jatuh hukum tak solat lettew. Pokok goyang pun nak salahkan angin memanjang. Entah yang peluk bahu itu sebenarnya kuat ukhuwahnya, tak pun bahasa modennya bromance. Entah yang tengok bola itu perjalanannya lebih dua marhalah maka sudah boleh jamak. Sudahnya kalau pakcik belakang rumah suruh monyet peliharaannya panjat pokok, takkan makhluk itu memanjat lalu memetik buah kelapa dengan lemah gemalai. Nampak tak logik dia kalau kita fikir secara positif?

Jadi bilamana kes pasangan di Sweden mendapat liputan meluas masyarakat kita, tidaklah saya begitu terkejut membaca dan mendengar komen mereka di sekeliling lebih-lebih lagi di alam maya. Yang dapat saya simpulkan di sini adalah orang kita bukan sahaja sukar bersangka baik malah orang kita memang cepat menghukum. Lebih cepat daripada monyet tadi yang memanjat pokok kelapa. Seriously, I understand the concern expressed by the public, I do. And I do understand that you have every right to say or write anything you wish on the ticket of free speech. But the end doesn't justify the mean. It just doesn't, folks.

Ketika kes itu masih lagi dalam perbicaraan, orang-orang marhaen seperti kita sudah berjaya menyelesaikan kes tersebut, tanpa perlu berjumpa face-to-face dengan pasangan tersebut mahupun anak-anak yang terlibat. Agaknya Benedict Cumberbatch pun mungkin tersipu malu apabila anda mampu menyelesaikan kes ini dalam masa beberapa saat saja. Sherlock is the coolest show ever, by the way. Kalau takde Astro, sila download. OK balik kepada cerita asal. Orang kita memang pantas menghukum, baik yang menyokong ibunya mahupun yang menyokong anaknya.

Pertama sekali, kita perlu mengkaji sumber berita yang didengari atau dibaca. I've studied the pattern embedded in media discourse as part of my dissertation for my masters. Believe me, media can and have been manipulating the public to make decisions based on what they want you to believe and then make you think as if you are making those decisions by your own will. That's the true essence of mind controlling. Mind control is most effective when you are not aware of the nature in which it happened. Dan berdasarkan laporan akhbar terkini, terdapat pelbagai variasi dan provokasi yang dibangkitkan, baca headline sahaja pun sudah cukup menjengkelkan. Cakap saja versi mana yang mahu. Versi anak menangis menyesal, versi ibu memukul menggunakan kayu, versi tak bagi anak makan lapan jam, versi anak memburukkan ibunya sendiri ketika soal siasat. Dan setiap versi ini pasti akan mempengaruhi anda untuk menyokong satu pihak dan menghukum pihak yang lainnnya. Sad, isn't it? I've always reminded my students to read, just read from whatever sources you can find, but don't swallow everything. You read, you evaluate and you think. Do not lay your entire dependence on a single source. Chances are, they are as clueless as you are and just want supporters to make them feel intelligent.

Secondly, you are not in any way the victim/accused nor are you the witness. And this is not about you. Kalau anda pernah didera sekalipun, ini bukan anda. Kalau anda pernah dituduh mendera sekalipun, ini juga bukan anda. Mereka yang terlibat ini bukan anda dan tak mungkin anda mampu untuk meletakkan diri andi di tempat mereka. Tak semestinya anda didera, maka mereka juga didera. Tak semestinya anda memukul kerana mendidik, maka mereka juga memukul kerana mendidik. Do not enforce your own corporal punishment on people you knew nothing about. Suspend your judgement. Ini tidak, bukan main ramai lagi yang mengherdik tanpa akal dengna lidah setajam pedang. Bermacam label dan gelaran dianugerahkan kepada mereka - ibubapa kejam ada, anak derhaka ada. I mean, for once, put youself in their shoes. Everyone can sympathize, but it takes real courage to empathize. Anak-anak yang terlibat masih remaja. Dan sebagai remaja, tak sukar untuk dia mendapat maklumat tentang pandangan orang ramai terhadap dirinya. Tak perlu google, facebook atau twitter, di sekolah saja mungkin dia sudah dihukum masuk neraka oleh rakan sebaya. Your teenage years is an important stage of your life, teens are extremely sensitive. Avoid judging both the parents or the kid. Try to understand them. If you can't understand them, try at least to accept the fact that you have no right to judge people when you don't understand them. There is a certain decorum in which you treat an accused. After all, they are still only suspects. Everyone can be an armchair critic. Heck, even my six year old niece can do that. Try practicing intellectualism instead.

Finally, yang paling menjengkelkan ialah mereka yang mendapat maklumat tidak lengkap tapi dengan yakin halalan toyyiban berkongsi info di facebook dan menghentam sesuka hati. I mean, really? Check your facts, people. Always check your sources. Kalau setakat dengar makcik kiah hujung kampung bercerita selama dua minit, terus post cerita palsu itew. Kalau setakat dengar berita jam lapan empatpuloh saat pasal kes dera, terus post status berapi. Yang lebih sakit dari itu apabila keyboard warriors berpusu-pusu share status tersebut ibarat jualan mega akhir tahun. Use your head as well, not merely your heart. Ibarat tangkap orang mencuri roti dua ringgit dari kedai runcit pak ali, terus belasah sampai mati. Hukum hudud menentang bukan main katanya kejam, sudahnya hukum bunuh berperikemanusiaankah? Doakan sahaja yang terbaik buat keluarga ini dan juga buat keluarga di luar sana yang mungkin hidupnya lebih perit tapi masih tidak terbela.

Bersangka baik memang payah. Menghukum itu mudah. Memetik kata-kata Faisal Tehrani, "...Kerana payahnyalah kehidupan ini, kau dan aku akan lebih bermakna sebagai manusia."

The heart remembers.

Ever had one of those moments when you seem to know what's right but can't seem to take a step towards that direction? Like your body is telling you to move but your soul stubbornly refuses to budge? And you wish that you could slap your own sorry face for setting the roots in the wrong place?

Well, I have. And I think I've been in that situation for a long time now. I've been thinking about it quite a lot. Like why is my soul not synchronizing itself with my body and why am I not doing anything about it sooner? And the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. You see, my soul is more attached to my heart while my body is attached to my mind. The problem is; my heart and my mind are sworn enemies.

My heart is too emotional for my mind to comprehend and my mind is too rational for my heart to ever understand. My mind always goes for the simplistic solutions, like if you can't fix something then you let it go, you find something else and move on. But my heart goes for the sentimental values and spent years fixing broken things even when they are beyond repair, always finding reasons to hold on to things. So you see, my mind and heart are at constant war with each other. And apparently, the heart always wins, even when she knows she's wrong. Or rather, I always let the heart wins, even when I know she's wrong.

And yes, my heart has always been a 'she'. At least, that's what I think. And my mind is a 'he'. This makes the war having much more sense now, doesn't it? My mind is telling me to think like him, act like him and spare myself from the pain of holding on to things too tight because they'll either break into pieces or break me apart. My heart, on the contrary, tells me to feel like her, to understand what memories mean to her, to intensely fight and fix what I love because the pain of losing would break both her and I. I sometimes listen to the mind, but mostly I just turned a deaf ear and let the heart rules.

Over the years, my mind probably felt offended by my obvious preference and bias that I realized it has somehow partially stop functioning. I mean, how else would you explain these absurd happenings I've had lately? Like I can't seem to remember the lunch I've had yesterday, or the name of my family's cat that died last year, or my dad's license number, or the reasons why I hate that girl who used to sit in the front row in my class all year long, or the spelling of some random words I've used so many times, or how I managed to order a pizza delivery when I don't even know the name of the pizza?

But I do remember the wisdom words painted on the wall of my first-grade classroom, the name of the teacher who scolded me for failing a history test, the smell of someone's perfume six years after last smelling it, the color of the loosed paint on the door of the school bus, the sound of the cardboard scraping on the floor during my first play performance in high school, the boy who stood in the rain waiting for me to look up, the longest silence that lingered when I looked at old photos of people who meant so much, the touch of my best friend's hug that we rarely had because it seems corny back then and the tears that followed after when she died.

I forgot a lot. And yet I remember it all. I guess, sometimes, the heart remembers what the mind wants to forget.

Hartini.

I tried to write a eulogy for you today. In fact, I've been trying to write it down for days now. But the words won't come, or maybe they did, but I sent them away so I won't have to face your death. Remembering only makes the death more real than it already is. Pushing the memory away makes me less vulnerable, less painful. Every time someone mentions about your death, I would picture you with all five of us. We would be hanging out together this school holidays just like you planned last month. You'd be complaining about your weight and I'd be telling you the downside of being slim - that if you crossed the roads, people would run you over with their cars, because from the sideways, it's like you weren't even there. You'd double over with laughter and tell me that I'm a psycho. I liked that story better, so I painted it over the real one, thinking that once I erased it, it'll be gone. And like any other grieving best friends, I believe that not thinking about it is the right thing to do. But I was wrong. If I erased your death, there would be no way for me to take a look back and remember you. All of you.

When I first learnt about your death, I tried to take in what they were saying about you, but most of it went over my head. The death itself was unreal, but what hit me most was the suddenness of it, the totality of you that was lost, the same person who took eight years marking her presence in my life, only to be wiped away in seconds. And as I scrolled down the many comments and statuses about your death, my mind was frantically searching the memories stashed inside, trying to remember the last impression you had of me. What was the last thing I told you? Have I ever saved you in every way that a person can be saved? Did I tell you I love you enough? And even if I didn't, did you know it anyway? You see, first impression is often altered in time. When you get to know someone, like really get to know them, there is always a chance of you changing your mind. But last impression is nothing like that. It's infinite, permanently engraved, like writings on a tombstone. The final moments you left in someone's life stay unchangeable, it's like forever, but longer.

I tried scrolling down all the private messages flooding my inbox, each asking about you. Was it true that Tini passed away? I'm sorry about Tini. Have you heard the news? Did Tini really pass away? I didn't reply to any of them because I didn't know how. How do people respond when asked about their best friend's death? What's the right way to answer it? Is there a right way to answer it? Should a brief 'yes' be fine? Or should I extend my condolences to them as well? I never had a best friend who died. So you see, I'm a noob. I sincerely apologize to any of you whose messages left unattended.

Within seconds, I was already dialing Sya's number. I had no idea what I wanted to tell her or ask her. My hands just went autopilot. She had me at hello. I broke down. Then she broke down. For the first five minutes, none of us said anything. We just stayed there, phones in our hands, crying and breaking each other's hearts, all at the same time. In case you were wondering what did two best friends say to one another after they had lost one of their own, well, they said nothing. Because that's what we did. There were so many things to say, and yet none was equivalent to that void space you left behind. Before the conversation ended, there were only few words being exchanged, made up of a string of mumbled apologies, regrets and farewells.

So you see, today I read the eulogies posted on your wall. It's weird reading people wrote about you in past tense. You should have read them, they were pretty nice. Everyone wanted to mark their presence in your life, reminiscing their brief encounter with you, their small talks with you despite never seeing you in person, trying to show the world that they too, had once been a part of your life, and shared moments with you. You see, I could write down all the small things I know about you. The songs you listen to when you woke up, the way you tied your hair depending on your mood, the routinized clothes you wore when you woke up late to class, the way you went up the stairs two steps at a time in the morning and one step at a time in the evening. I could write on and on about the little things that make you you. But that would be an insult to me. Because I know you. And I don't need the world to understand that. I just need you to know that. Know that I noticed. Know that I knew. Know that I remember. Know that I care. Know that they meant to me, even if I never said them. Know that if there is any way I could tell them to you right now, I would.

Today, I finally managed to write you my eulogy. Here it is, in a sentence - short like the life you lived, and true like the friendship you left behind:

"Hartini was a friend, whom if you gave her a handful of black marbles, she would still see them as colourful, and she would give every coloured marble to each one of us, until she was left with none, and still she gave."

Hartini Ibrahim.
28 Oct 1987 - 21 Dec 2013.
Al-Fatihah. May you finally rest in peace.

Last words.

learn the hard way.

I don't think you will ever truly learn something until you make a mistake out of it. And I'm not saying that you should run out there on the street and make mistake immediately and intentionally. That would be plain stupid. I'm saying that if you can see through those mistakes, you are less likely to repeat them. It's a lot like love and romance. Love and romance cannot co-exist. At least not in the way you want it to be.

Romance is candy-like. It is all sweet and sugary. The moment it touches even the tip of your tongue, you will feel the unspeakable joy. The true sensation of happiness.

But it melts just as quickly.

Now what remains after that is love. Love is the remainder of romance. When you're young and free and naive, all you wanted was romance. You can put the blame on anything. I personally blame those Asian drama series that infiltrated our media in the late 1900s. Whatever triggers this obsession with romance, one thing that was clear is that the effect was outrageous.

But once you get older and had your heart broken, smashed, crushed, slammed into walls after walls, or even had a temporary heart failure, you will eventually learn one significant lesson.

That love beats romance any time. You can't live with romance forever. You have to realize that with romance comes expectation. Expectation was the one that broke your heart. Love won't do that to you. Because with love comes acceptance. It comes with the knowledge that the candy will melt and the sweetness will fade. And yet, it doesn't bother you as much as you thought it would.

Because sometimes once you build a life with someone, you will learn to forget romance in order to learn to live together with love. Love is not what's in it for you. It's how much you can give as you grow old together. Be realistic. You can't forever be Edward and Bella.

If you really want to love, learn to love like Snape loves Lily.

the passing of warmth.

It's difficult. Giving something I love for someone else. It has always been a difficult thing for me to do. I found it agonizing to give up something that I've protected. It has always been that way.

When I was a kid, I've already figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I want to write. I don't know exactly what my life would be about, but I knew that it has something to do with writing. Somehow it has to be. And I knew that, because I woke up every morning, and in those first few seconds, I would try to remember my dreams and I wrote them on a piece of paper. And on days I couldn't remember, I made them up.

And because of my love for words, I began to love reading. I was addicted to them. I build a sanctuary out of them. Living the lives of those fictional characters. Sometimes I was a detective, other times I became the dragon slayer. I could be anyone. But one thing I could not tolerate was for someone to read my books. Often I would hide my books under my pillows or in my blanket. I was scared.

I have always been scared. Scared that what I love would be destroyed in the hands of someone else, particularly my sister. I always believed that I could protect what I love more than anyone else. I was always scared that the pages would be torn, I was scared that the sides of the book would be folded, I was scared that they would spill water all over the book. I was always scared. If only the books could talk, I believe that they too, would prefer to be under my care. I believe that more than anything.

But as I grew up, I left home. I got into university and rented a house. I left the books at home. One day when I got back, they were gone. My mum donated them to charity because she thought that they were of no use to me anymore. They were dusty and yellowed. And at that moment it hit me. If I had given them to my sister, she could protect them as she was staying at home during the time. That was the day I realized that there would be times when I couldn't protect the things I love anymore. And instead of not knowing what their fate would be, I could give them to someone else that could possibly protect them better. To protect them when I wasn't there. To be there for them when I couldn't.

I am an adult now. I have learnt that besides book, there are more things I love that I have to give up. And sometimes, to give them up for someone else. I've tried to live my life ordinarily, but somehow I kept seeing things that filled all these places, but I can't reach them. No matter how much those things mean to me, I couldn't protect them enough.

I guess, sometimes if you let go of the things you love, there might be someone else who can protect them better than you do. And so for all the things I love that I've let go of, I hope you are in better hands, wrapped around the arms of someone who can protect you better than me. I hope the warmth lasts.

indie talks.

there's something about indie movies -
something about the realness of it,
the ordinariness,
the small things in life that they portrayed,
the moments that felt surreal and familiar all at the same time,
that random lines thrown by the characters that embodied who you used to be or about to be,
the simplicity of defining love;
and ultimately defining lost,
that feeling of knowing the characters;
of knowing that no matter how much they cared for one another,
no matter how many promises they made infinitely,
how close they are to happy end,
they will never be together.
it shows precisely what life is not about, grounding you back to reality -
that everything is beautiful,
but nothing is forever.

"We accept the love we think we deserve" - Stephen Chbosky

trapeze.

There are only so many of us born at a time and we are thrown into the world to find each other, to find the other ones who don't think you're strange, who understand your jokes, your smile, the way you talk.

There are only so many of us born at a time and we only have so long to find each other before we die.

But we have to try. - taken from IWroteThisForYou