Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Downtime

Just dropping by to give you guys a heads up that my blog *might* be inaccessible via the pulledtea.com address soon.

I'm sure this place will not be affected but just in case kan.

I have a virtual server somewhere in Romania that I use and I'm discontinuing the service because I haven't been using it much. I'm getting a new cheaper hosting maybe but that all depends if I have anything useful to do on the site. The previous one I kept because my mom used to use an app I hosted there to email and track orders to a batik factory. She stopped using it awhile ago so it's sitting idle.

So pulling the plug on that server and just maybe get a new cheaper place to put my angan2 on.

Friday, June 13, 2014

From My FB

me: fawwaz, tukar cenel la. nak tengok cerita ganas.
fawwaz: tak nak.
me: ok tengok cerita hantu la.
fawwaz: tak nak. takut.
me: ok la. tengok cerita cinta nak?
fawwaz: cerita hantu lagi bagus.

sejuk perut mak hang ngandungkan hang, fawwaz.

Saturday, June 7, 2014

A Part Of Destruction



Perhaps one of the worst feelings you can have when seeing someone in a state of clinical depression is knowing that you have been one of factors for their state.

and sometimes, upon reflection, things just go bad whenever you come into the picture.

and then this belief sticks in you... that you embrace the fact that you are not someone who brings light, but just someone who holds the lantern in a way that keeps people in the shadows.

Oh what shall you do, dear self, and where would you go, o dear self, so that all those beautiful lives wont be corrupted by your touches?

Friday, May 30, 2014

That Cinnamon

'How are you?' and the good short answer is always 'fine'.

Even if you've just lost one third of a generation in your family, soul about to burst from profanity and the public toilet have more posts than u're blog. always reply 'fine'.

Totally unrelated and randomly connected to whatever I wrote above is a memory of first watching R.E.M's Immitation of life vid. The song caught my attention and the video was to me complicated. The depth of imagination to produce something like that was astounding.

Well anyway, after more than a decade, I paid a bit more attention to the lyric and found something to blog about. Hope it inspires.

//====================================
That sugar cane that tasted good.
That freezing rain, that's what you could.
C'mon, c'mon on no one can see you cry.

This sugarcane
This lemonade
This hurricane, I'm not afraid.
C'mon, c'mon no one can see you cry.

This lightning storm
This tidal wave
This avalanche, I'm not afraid.
C'mon, c'mon no one can see me cry.

That sugar cane that tasted good.
That's who you are, that's what you could.
C'mon, c'mon on no one can see you cry.

That sugar cane that tasted good.
That's who you are, that's what you could.
C'mon, c'mon on no one can see you cry.
//====================================

To strive to be what you can be. To not be afraid of how people see it. To just being aware of where you are at and heading. Everybody is heading to their own destination and their own struggle. Focus on your own struggle, your own storm... hold on, make a stand, keep on walking, don't forget your directions and just keep on walking forward.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Lenses and Blurry Roads

I remember having a blog to write to my kids hoping one day that I can put that in my will for them to read later. Something like... "oh besides this 3 million dollar worth of estate, check out my blog at www.urDadJustCouldntShutUp.com".

"And don't forget to click on them adverts. We get more money when people click"

"except if they're indecent"

"or just weird"

Anyhow, it didn't quite work out. Didn't feel right and it was all gloomy and sad and stuff. Maybe I'd buy that book this IT dude wrote. He was dying and wrote a book full of wisdom to hand over to his son. That seems to be more useful than just "hey you guys! today i had nasi lemak, pisang goreng!!". Buy that, then read it and have some inspirations about what to write to kids.

(or copy paste terus n tukar nama so that it sounds like i'm so wise)

So upon introspect and looking back, I knew the problem to my writer's block seems to stem from one same fountain. The fountain of "when I grow up I don't wanna do anything". I really didn't want to do anything. One of those people you ask the thing they want to do more than anything and they answered: watch TV!!.

Game of Thrones didn't help keep me off that ambition.

So for the past few months I decided to change that. So I try to want something of this short world. I mean, you know, something meaningful to do. Not just the usual 'get rich, get a big house, 4 wives, 10 concubines and 11 girlfriends" kinda thing. Something like I want to grow trees so I can cut them down again and sell em off or build mobile dams so people can get electrocuted in remote parts of the world (just add a river of water!) or maybe...just maybe... ternak kambing.

Or ducks if that's the next awesome trend.

you know... stuffs that lets you look back and say... wow I did those?! (not that I'm saying surviving 4 wives catching you having 21 extras isn't impressive but you get what I mean la kan).

So when you know what you want to do, then you have a path to tread on. And when you have to tread on, you get to tell your kids about this road that doesn't lead to nowhere or a circle or dead end!

I decided to try motivational stuffs, do meditation and there was this one time, just this one time, tried watching raja lawak (i couldn't take it. maybe i'll try again after 2 years when I build enough strength). So I have some knowledge about getting motivated and keeping stress at bay (working so far) but I am still not sure what I want to do. Keep searching, teaD.

Gotta keep looking.

Monday, April 14, 2014

On a tragedy

and to Him we shall return.

A van transporting kids ended up in waters when the driver went out to send some of the kids to their daycare. She forgot to engage the handbrake and the van slide into a water sanitation pool. Two men managed to save 5 of the children but it was too late for a 4 year old boy.

Such a good boy he must be.

So I share this poem which has that feel of wondering comfort. Of two sharing a common love would speak to each other: "don't you think he is in heaven? Maybe walking that garden, having that feast and talking to the best of people. I wonder if they got milk there?"




That in Paradise

Surely, in paradise, is a river of milk For Ali, and Hussain, and Hassan
Whosoever loves them 

Whosoever goes forth upon their path 
Enters paradise without experiencing any sadness 
Love of the People of the Prophetic Household is incumbent upon us 
And because of this love, we do not fear tribulations.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Pick Hair

In  Yemen, beggar syndicate is pretty common. They have a network of their own identifying possible gullible persons. You give to one, expect a whole army to come by. They'd tag along the marked man like he is Midas.

Except Midas is giving out paper money instead of gold coins.

One fine day we were at the market just not really minding our business when we came upon a 5 or 6 year old girl eating off from scraps left by some of the shoppers there (they eat at the ground and leave whatever there and later clean it up when they want to go back)

Come to think of it, I wonder if I've told this before... oh nevermind. Let's continue.

My good friend looked at her and remarked... oh pity this girl! (in Malay of course, but English has that dramatic effect we all love in movies). "Oh pity this girl" and that's about it. No handout or anything. He just continues walking.

Drama kan.

And then came Friday and like the usual, we went to the mosque at noon for Friday prayers and there's like a whole bunch of beggars there too. There's this particular beggar, which we can see despite the purdah she wears, a very verrryyy pretty one. She brought her daughter(?) along too and from her daughter's looks, we assumed her hair was light brown. Memang cantik lah.

She came to us for a handout and without a word this colleague of mine (looking rather sheepishly) handed her a nice amount. Nice enough for her to sound so very happy about it. (nice voice too).

I rolled my eyes but I am grateful for this. I now have a laughing stick to poke at him once in  awhile.