small stuff angel

Someday when I die and somehow I’ve been good enough to end up in heaven, and if there is such a thing as the option of choosing to become an angel or to just enjoy heavenly life… I would want to become an angel. But not the grand type of angel that appears in visions, dreams and in tunnels of light and glory or those who perform great miracles for I’d probably screw up things with all my clumsiness. I would like to be the kind of angel in charge of the small stuff. To hug someone forlorn, to touch the tear-stained face of a person in grief, to blow a little breeze onto the face of someone dejected, to make a tiny feather land on the nose of someone heartbroken, to create a comedic moment that’ll get an angry person laughing, to make puddles of rainwater for children, pets and young-at-heart adults to splash in or flamingoes in the city to lepak in, to leave little signs for people who feel they are forgotten or abandoned, to bestow calm upon an anxious heart and sleep upon an insomniac mind, to make cats lie terbalik on the floor and ask you for a tickle… Okie, the last one is probably the most redundant and an unsanctioned angelic deed. Yup, small stuff punya angel. I think I’ll make a good one… if I get to be one that is.

bag of jitters

Things in the past, things yet unseen
Wishes and dreams that are yet to come true
All of my hope, all of my plans
My heart and my hands
I’m making them Yours

Strains of a beloved hymn find their way into the still of a restless night. A cool breeze sashays through the window, flirts with the curtains and waltzes its way out into the living room. The whirring sound of the table fan seems to blend in harmony with the hum from the highway traffic, fingers tapping on a laptop, noisy footsteps from the void deck and the occasional vehicle taking a corner on the street below. Somewhere across the world, decisions have been made. Whether or not they are in favour of helping my dream take flight remains to be known. I can only wait and lean not on my own understanding, something that’s been so difficult to do this entire week and the remaining stretch of hours…

a dream in hand

Building Number 22

jejantas prayer answered

Read an e-mail ten times over while trying not to blink. Whisper the incredible news when your heart feels like screaming out loud. Feel your shoulder blades and ankles itch because you might be sprouting wings. Greet a morning feeling fabulous although you haven’t slept for 38 hours. Happiness makes the silly justified and the mundane marvelous.

Five more days to feeling like this all over again or descend down to earth and oh well, plan the next great adventure!!

evidently sublime

Put Your Records On
by Corinne Bailey Rae
Album: Corinne Bailey Rae © EMI (2006)

Three little birds, sat on my window.
And they told me I don’t need to worry.
Summer came like cinnamon
So sweet,
Little girls double-dutch on the concrete.

Maybe sometimes, we got it wrong, but it’s alright
The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same
Oh, don’t you hesitate.

Go, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.

You’re gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.

Blue as the sky, sombre and lonely,
Sipping tea in the bar by the road side,
(just relax, just relax)
Don’t you let those other boys fool you,
Gotta love that afro hairdo.

Maybe sometimes, we feel afraid, but it’s alright
The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change.
Don’t you think it’s strange?

Go, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.

You’re gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.

Just more than I could take, pity for pity’s sake
Some nights kept me awake, I thought that I was stronger
When you gonna realise, that you don’t even have to try any longer.
Do what you want to.

Go, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.

Go, put your records on, tell me your favourite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.

Oh, you’re gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow

distillation by reflections

Pucuk rebung biru diselubungi kabus.
Menara kembar berkerlipan disinar mentari.
Fajar di hatiku menyingsing.

As the bus sped on along the highway, I was lost in a moment of quiet happiness. The familiar landmarks, glimmering and ethereal, faded away as the distance between us grew so as to shrink again on another day. Wang Leehom’s Da cheng xiao ai plays on my Mini. Small love in a big city. How apt. I wonder how many people noticed the lovely clouds and the beautiful blue today. I saw a laughing dog and one that looked like a karipap. My left butt still aches from the bowling session on Saturday. I can’t bowl to save my life, only for comedic relief. Supra and me had a splendid date with Atah- bowling, sushi, window shopping, and many adorable dogs. I almost cried looking at the delicious spread that Mama and Atah whipped up yesterday: stir-fried pork strips with szechuan vegetables, Anion, Bodatoes & Carrot soup, stir-fried leek with crispy pork belly chunks and fried fish in tomato tauchu sauce- all my favourites! I wonder how was Sugeo’s night at the Wagner opera yesterday and how Vienna looks like from inside a cafe wafting with the smell of freshly baked pastries and brewed coffee. I think of the afternoon with Mama Guon discussing details of Lish’s Hen Night getaway, both wondering what happened to Evie-chai, the conference call with Pohf and the night visit from Lish. I really miss these women loads. toAdie and Fung Kit’s papers started today and I hope they both ace every paper and kick some great ass.

I stared out of the window into the blinding sunlight and whispered my gratitude. So many blessings to count, so much love… God made all these kindred spirits and they are my life. He must love me very much. How easy it is to forget that simple knowledge which needs no reasoning. One little moment and all of life comes into perspective…

Childcraft geeks

Jason Mraz’s Mr A-Z album back cover art

“Hey, look!! Childcraft!! Comelnya…”
And the two lawak sisters squealed with delight. Supra noted that O.Lover’s in the wrong colour. “Yeah, Volume 9 is pink. Wait. Song For A Friend is wrongly coloured too because Volume 12 is a deeper shade of pink than Volume 9. Really? I think it looks correct. Wronglah… definitely not maroon. Did You Get My Message pun salah. Nolah, betul lah tu… World and Space is turquoise blue, remember? Yeah. Hey, Childraft don’t put their numbers at the bottom of the spine. Theirs are on top, above the picture part. Poems and Rhymes, Stories and Fables. What’s Volume 3? Children Everywhere. World and Space, About Animals, The Green Planet, no no… the The Green Kingdom, How Things Work, About Us. Holidays and Birthdays. What’s next ah? Places To Know. Yup. Make and Do, Look and Learn, Mathemagic, About Me and Guide for Parents. Plus the two supplementary ones: Feathered Friends and Myths and Legends! Hah! Kawaii neh… Yeah man, and they used the older cover design rather than the new ones. Hey, our Childcraft set is as old as Sugeo, you know? Yup, Mama’s not ever throwing them away. Yeah, no way. There are volumes of memories and inspirations in them. The coolest gift ever. Hee… so much of my life began in those pages.”

I think I’m beginning to understand why toAdie said that the two of us sound like demented sisters whenever we start rattling off and string sentences together as if there were no commas and full stops in a conversation.