Thursday, January 29, 2009

20,000 Plane Crashes

Here's another snippet from one of my favourite short stories. Lemme know if you're interested...

The first time I heard those words I didn’t want to believe them. But I knew he was right. He always was. The argument was logical enough.

“We need to be brave enough to take risks in life or we miss out. It’s like flying.”

“Flying? Like angel wings or a plane?”

“People who are scared to fly don’t realise that flying is safer than driving.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Think about it: You read about car accidents more often than you read about plane crashes, don’t you? Even if one plane crash would result in more deaths than one...”

“Fiq?”

“Yes?” He stopped walking.

“Why are we talking about something so morbid?”

“I don’t know.”

That’s just the way it was with us. It was always “I don’t know”. Looking back, I’d say it was simply because that was the truth, plain and simple. We didn’t know. All we knew was that being with each other felt like being at home. We were that comfortable, that secure, that stupid. We didn’t understand half of what was really happening in our lives.

Ideas Ideas

Wani gave me an excellent idea for a short story recently and it has since been written (with sincere apologies to Mat - and in case you're wondering it was Boy who supplied me with the names for creative use) in one afternoon. Here's a sneak peek - do e-mail me if you're interested and I'll give you the rest of it. Enjoy...

Matt has to die

It was no question that Matt had to die.

The two girls had decided upon this grave solution after much careful deliberation. For a few years now, Madihah and Kamilah had quietly tolerated the influence, nay, the immortal power that Matt held over their respective boyfriends, Lothfi and Kamarul. It was unclear as to exactly why the boys favoured Matt’s decisions and chose to follow him the way cart-pulling donkeys followed carrots but the fact of the matter was they did – often leaving the two girls high and dry. And they had had enough.

“Can you believe Kamarul ditched me again?”

“For Matt? Where did they go this time?”

“They went for cendol pulut again, of course! Have you seen the boys eating anything else lately? As if they need more sugar in them, chubby as they are!”

At the moment, Madihah was ironing her baju kurung for the next day, furiously pounding the appliance on the wooden table with each punch of her words.

“Those boys! (thump) They need to be taught a lesson! (thump) I think we should just refuse (thump) to have dinner with them tonight! And to think (thump) that I was actually going to be-lan-ja! (thump thump thump)

Sabar, Madihah. We can’t let them get the better of us just like that.” Kamilah was sitting on her bed, calmly folding her laundry. “But we should do something about it, I agree. They can’t keep taking us for granted. Ingat kita ni apa?”

“Exactly!” Madihah sat the iron hard on its bottom and flipped off the switch. “At this rate, they might as well just marry Matt instead of us! Let’s see how that works!”

Kamilah smiled and said nothing.

Madihah sighed and began hanging up her baju kurung. “The problem is, Matt has this way of convincing people to do just as he says. Think about it: the shops that he recommends are not that great, the food is not that good, the games... He just... He’s a sweet talker, that’s what he is. A born salesman, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Kamilah paused in the midst of folding a sarong and looked up. “Or maybe...”

“What?” Madihah busied herself pulling out the plug and coiling the wire of the iron.

“There is something we could try.”

“Such as?”

Kamilah looked her dead in the eye. “We could kill Matt. Problem solved.”

Madihah stole a glance at her. For a moment, her face searched that of her friend’s for an indication of something – but she did not know what. Rationality? Sanity? But then, something flicked in her own eyes and her face changed into a similar expression.

“You are joking,” she exhaled.

“Of course I am.” Kamilah went back to folding her clothes.

“We could never do such a thing like that.” Madihah continued, watching her.

“Of course not.” Kamilah finished the last of her chore and got up to carry a neatly folded pile towards her open closet. She put away the clean clothes and shut the door.

*You have my address?

Half Alive - Secondhand Serenade


This song has been stuck in my head ever since I heard it in AI's car. Even Painted the lyrics onto my wallpaper (Sorry, Irie Naoki). It could be just my inner-emo talking but I think it's so beautiful and it pretty much describes the situation that we've all been in at some point or other.

Friday, January 16, 2009

A Duet In Light And Darkness


White:
There are four lights on my ceiling
You flip one switch and all four come on
The bedroom, my operating theatre
Where I lay me down to be fixed
I need to be poked and poked and swirled and fixed
I need to be cut up and sewn back together

I have lighted too many fires for myself
and now it's all too bright

Though you know
Pride will not let me share my burdens with you
My lights are mine
and mine alone

Black:
I am engulfed in darkness
The darkness that I like
Like everything else in my life
except you and your lighted room
being cut up and sewn back together
and my family and God
Life is like darkness to which we light fires
and I think I have lost all of mine

Then maybe you should give me some of yours
and then maybe we could be blind together

Because you forget
You're not alone

A Duet In Light And Darkness (2009)
Written by Ahmad Faiz Abdul Aziz and Evanna Mohamad Ramly

Friday, January 9, 2009

Wishy Washy

Christine and I once talked about how things could be so hectic, the only quiet time you'd have to yourself is laundry time. I don't know why but I still enjoy washing my clothes by hand. Maybe it's just because my mouth is not moving but sometimes I get a lot of really good ideas from the moment I pour in the soap. Then we mull over it or whatever while we're scrub-a-dub-dubbing. By the time we get to the fabric softener, I feel like ditching the laundry and running for some pen and paper. More often than not, I lose the ideas somewhere between wringing out the clothes and pegging them up on the line. It's rare for me to hold on to them. This is why people dictate to secretaries.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Nani remembered The Notebook

Nani is such a sweetheart : )

Leaving for Kedah in the morning... I cannot wait to get the final semester over and done with! Six years of TESL is hell. At least with med school, all six years are necessary. My classmates agree that our second year of foundation was not, which leaves us all fuming at the thought of a wasted year. Honestly, I could have been working for months by now! I need money, dammit. In this day and age, who doesn't? Some more Z was supposed to find me work and he didn't, the traitor ; )

But what really pissed me off was how I had to turn down another invitation to read at a literary event... Do you have any idea what it actually means to be invited (by the British Council, no less) to read at an event? The kind lady was like, "Oh I thought you'd finished studying by now..." and in my head I was going, "Yeah, one would think, right?" Why, God, why?

The good news is, something tells me the headache and tension of a final semester mixed with the anxiety of future posting and postgraduate studies is going to give me a lot to write about. Wish me luck!

Placement

This is a word that currently holds so many meanings for me:

1. Exactly how shall I place my tiles in order to beat my dad at Scrabble?
He remains undefeated and it's awe-inspiring yet irritating at the same time.

2. How am I going to get my books sold in stores?
Somebody was supposed to help me with this but she's been so busy I can't ask. And no, I'm not holding it against you : )

3. (I hate the fact that I'm actually wondering, but...) What number am I out of the 25 in our class?
Hey, this actually means something to some people, alright? So what if I am kiasu?

4. Where am I going to be posted come July 2009?
This is a scary one. Keeping my fingers crossed.

5. Less is more.
Aunty Li, you cannot have that many plants out on the balcony... It doesn't work : (