and a lot hasn’t too.

It’s now 2012, and I’ve been meaning to post that obligatory New Year entry I usually do every year, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it yet. We’ll see if I can get around to doing it by the end of this month, at the very least.

Also, I’ve just come home after a great week in Indonesia Alhamdulillah. As always, the change of scene and crowd was refreshing. Sometimes you really need to get away from the familiar to gain some perspective.

I don’t know, I seem to be doing a lot of disappearing lately though.

There’s much to be said about 2011.

I’ll try and find the words soon Insya Allah.

Enough said here.

“Neither can you.”

“I never said I could.”

“So then who controls your heart?”

“Allah.”

And that answer came with no pause to weigh the question, no hesitance to consider the best reply. The word popped out abruptly with a certainty that was  overwhelming.

To actually place your trust in God, doing it for real, unreserved, unqualified, unequivocal, with complete confidence and utter submission, without a shred of doubt (even if at times you feel like you’re not worthy of Him taking care of your affairs)…it takes a lot of weight off your shoulders. It’s frightening, yes, but it’s the only free-fall that won’t break you.

When you come to crossroads, people say: seek counsel from within, seek the fatwa of your heart. 

But if you are unsure of what your heart says, unable to discern its messages to you, incapable of distinguishing between what it wants and what you want it to want, then ask Him to make it clear to you, and He will. It is easier to tell between good and bad, but a downright challenge when you come between good and good. That’s when you’ll need to know which path is better; which of the two to take and which of them to leave behind. With our kind of limited knowledge, we can only go with instinct and gut feelings with some logic and rationality, but it’s not enough. Sometimes even with all of the above, we don’t have an answer, so we ask the One who has authority over our hearts to plant within what we need to show us the right direction.

We don’t really have control over what we feel or what we don’t feel. It is what it is.
But we can certainly pray that whatever the heart wants is guided by what is best for it.

And Allah knows best.

Enough said here.

Here is the weekend spent in JB, in pictures:

The convoy: 8 girls, 2 cars

Great day for a road trip! We don’t want a dirty windshield to mar the view.

Team Polkaswirl, led by a more chilled out pilot…

…as opposed to me. Yes, I assumed a 10-2 hand position throughout most of the drive. I become a bit more careful on the road with passengers – mana boleh drive gila-gila macam biasa, bawak anak orang kot. (My friend Awin is the only one who’s seen how I really drive, so I doubt she’ll attest to this “careful-with-passengers” statement)

Alhamdulillah, safe arrival! I knew that 10-2 hand position was a worth-it sacrifice!

The night before the big day: Kenduri kesyukuran at the bride’s place. Girl time!

Last photo with the then Miss! Photo isn’t too clear here.

The Big Day. And..simplicity. :)

Mun, surrounded by loved ones.

And they’re married!

With the happy couple.

One with the now Mrs.

The girls’ chit chat after the ‘akad.

“Take your pick, gentlemen!” I don’t know who said this, but we had a good laugh over it!

My time with Mazzy. I love this girl. We used to talk til 4am back in uni about everything, and now we’re reduced to quick snatches here and there. I don’t think many people know how similar we are in our thoughts. The conversation we had after the ‘akad still rings in my ears. I need to meet this girl proper, and soon.

And finally, the one with everybody in it.
I particularly love how Husna is trying to get Baby Safia to look at the camera here.

Photos above are courtesy of an array of friends. Haven’t done a photos-filled post in a while. This entry should be worth about 16, 000 words.

And a little more:

To my dear Mun (who turns 25 today and is on her honeymoon in Turkey), all that I’ve wanted to say to you, I’ve already said. I’m so happy for you, and even though you might never read this, I hope the people who do know how much happiness I felt on your wedding day. May Allah bless you and your husband, and your marriage and your faith in Him and your commitment to one another.

Enough said here.

I’m beat, but I want to write this before I forget:

Early morning, clear blue skies, birds chirping, location: surau/masjid, doors and windows thrown open, light breeze keeping the temperature cool, sunlight streaming in, being surrounded by family and close friends sitting on the carpet with you..I think its perfect.

The beauty of something as simple as the above is just unparalleled. It isn’t magical or fairytale-like or anything of the sort, but better – beautiful and pure and unpretentious, masya Allah.

I’m glad I had the opportunity to witness this moment twice in my life so far, one up north and another down south, and both times moved me in a way that’s hard to describe.

There’s something about simplicity that makes you feel closer to God.

Enough said here.

“Reprise” by Marcelo Zarvos and Peter Vronsky is just splendid to listen to, especially when your side of the world is asleep.

**

Look at all of us, my, aren’t we loud?

And in all this chatter and noise, in between all this jumble of loud, discordant voices,

who is the one who hears you?

Who is the one who sees you?

Not the show you put on, but the person you try to bury.

Who stays behind, long after the loudness has subsided, and waits in silence until you slowly unfold?

**

Enough said here.

I don’t have enough tape or tissues for this.

Dear God, please make it easy for those who are dear to me, and let their difficulties be a way for them to be dearer to You.

Enough said here.

I’m trying to open my mouth, trying to let it out, but it’s stuck somewhere in too deep, as though it’s lodged itself someplace inside I never knew existed. I don’t even know what it is, but it’s there.

What is this dull ache, where did it come from, why is it here, and why does it throb so?

I’ve been buckling under the weight of a myriad of emotions lately, and I wonder why humans have to feel at all. This right here is like lugging around deadweight that resides in the pit of your stomach, and it leaves you feeling sick and exhausted all the time. You try to purge it, but you only succeed in pushing it upwards, making it climb and weave itself around your lungs, like a cancer that spreads. Its grasp is tight; it seizes you, knocks the wind out of you.

I have word vomit stuck in my throat, and it’s blocking my breathing passage, hurting my chest, and I wish I had a hand to hold my hair back while I throw everything up.

But I can’t.

All this attempt at honesty somehow reeks of deceit.
You can’t possibly know.

This is a terrible thing to feel on a blessed Friday, and in the first 10 days of Dhulhijjah at that.

Ya Allah, grant me patience, help me see the way.
You know what is best for me, help me understand.

I love you.

Your daughter.

The Story of Us is brief and simple.

We fell in love with each other’s smiles.

(My smile for your smile, that was what bound us, what wrapped us together, that was our promise),

but when our smiles began to wane,

and then when there were no more smiles to share,

no more smiles to hold us together,

we crumbled, we fell apart.

We tried, we tried.

And I remember wishing,

Towards the end,

If only it were possible,

if we could fall in love with tears.

(Mine, for yours).

*

“Why do you only ever write sad stories?” she asked me.

“You write like you’ve known a broken heart.”

I know many broken hearts. I hear them, listen to them; they’ve just never been mine.

I don’t know what that makes me really; a keen observer, an imaginative storyteller, or someone who’s just good at replicating people’s emotions in words.

But I can feel what I write, and it does hurt.

Maybe broken hearts break mine.

*

There are days when I wake up to one particular word, inexplicably pounding in my head. I never know it gets there, and I can never make the connection how or why; the one word just comes and it waits til I wake up and say it out loud.

The word I woke up to today was “impervious”.

im·per·vi·ous/imˈpərvēəs/ (adj). : Synonyms – “impermeable – impenetrable”.

How apt.

*

I have a strange feeling I’m too much of a romantic to ever really love or marry anyone.

Now and then, when I brave myself to venture into that realm of the unknown and attempt an exploration expedition, drawing up charts and maps so that I’ll know how to maneuver my way around should the time ever come, or at the very least to have an idea of what I’ll be up against, I stumble out of it blank and confused, and so very frustrated. I don’t know, I don’t like not knowing, and I don’t want to find out. How about that?

Other people’s realms make more sense. My stories make more sense.

And so I leave it alone, and I breathe better for it.

Enough said here.

*

Addendum:

Having said what I’ve said though, I happened to read this wonderful piece this morning, thought about my uncle for a bit, and had a good smile. I hope it has the same effect on you too, insya Allah.