Love

Goodbye 2017, Hello 2018

SHAM-2.jpg

This New Years, I found myself 6059km away from home, wishing I was home, because home now has a face. A trip that was supposed to change a life I was tired of became a trip I didn’t want to make.

For the times I went through life on my own, I thank God I now have you.

Here’s to 2018, a year of surprises, new memories and lots of love.

 

Advertisements
Standard
Musings

Will I Ever Be Good Enough?

Too fat
Too tall
Too loud
Too ambitious
Too hopeful
Too successful

Too much.

Perhaps in that moment you thought you loved me,
I was only a person you wanted to be;
Never one you wanted to be,
With.

Standard
Uncategorized

My Valentine

16462905_10154935190781445_1073203846801174155_o.jpg

It feels like forever since I was last here. Writing seems to be a luxury nowadays – just as how time and travel are. Today, I write because my heart is full and contented.

I think I’m in love.

You see, I sat down on the prayer mat sometime during the new year, crying my hearts out, asking God for a miracle. By miracle I actually mean for Him to soften my heart.

I admit, I may not be the best of Muslimahs around, but I believe in the signs He has shown me. All my life,  I make decisions based on what the universe has shown me. When my heart is directed at something and it becomes easy for me to take action, I know that it’s Him doing his magic – the magic of granting our dua’s.

Allah is fair and just – there’s really no doubt about that. He gives me some things that He takes away from others. He makes sure my family has enough sustenance no matter what the inner voices might say. He gives me the strength to go through the tough times. If anything, He has taught me that nothing good never comes easy for me.

Never.

So while I used to cry myself to sleep comparing others who have it a lot easier than me, I now accept the fact that Allah simply loves me more hence He just tests me more.

Today, I am in love.

 

 

Standard
Faith, Musings, Uncategorized

Where Do I Go Now?

14542486_1143005535778552_3542869680980379207_o.jpg

The past three years has been the best years of my life. I finally found something I’m good at, and alhamdulillah, earning a living from it. I keep setting the bar up high for myself, and as much as I’m at a position way above than I first started, I often feel like I’m further away from where I want to be.

On my own, I feel at ease. I feel happy. I feel contented and grateful. But when I’m with my peers, I start questioning myself. I start doubting myself. I start wanting to give up. It’s as though I’ve been living in a bubble, oblivious to the outside world. Truth is, I’m just tired being my own cheerleader.

Where do we go now?

Standard
Uncategorized

Eid as a Struggling Single Twenty-Something

hfhraya-2.jpg

As a child, I used to love celebrating Eid. I dreaded the fasting month of Ramadhan but I looked forward to new clothes, eating scrumptious rendang and ketupat, and of course, for many Asian kids – the collection of green packets filled with dollar dollar bills. Apart from visiting close relatives on the first day of Eid, you get to spend another day in Syawal with your closest friends from school visiting their houses.

It was kinda cool to bring your friends over when you were ten years old, dressed in the traditional baju kurung going around the neighbourhood and coming home at the end of the day with your bag bursting with green packets. You would know which house gave the envelope, and if you get at least $5 from that house, you’re definitely going back there again the year after.

As I grew older, however, the enjoyment of Eid started to fade away. At fifteen, I despised celebrating Eidulfitri. Eidulftri would be torturous for me since I had to appeased my newly divorced parents – I couldn’t spend more than 2 hours at my dad’s place or I’ll never hear the end of my mum’s wrath. My sisters were busy with their own families, making sure they visit the in-laws before making their way to my mum’s. And for some reason, you start not liking your relatives. I remember bursting out at my sister for coming so late int the afternoon and my make up was already ruined from the frustration of waiting around. The first day of Eid as a hormonal teenager was basically me playing the waiting game.

Eid started to change as I entered my twenties. While it was still as boring as when I was a teenager, I began to prepare the house the house willingly. I bought flowers, new cushion covers, and occasionally curtains to slowly make the house into a home. I volunteered help in the kitchen, making sure I picked up my mum’s recipes to her signature Eid dishes and perfecting them. I made cookies and sweet treats to offer to the guests coming over to my place and made sure there were all sorts of drinks available for them.

As much as I wish Eid is better now as I enter my mid-twenties, I realised that an awkward Eid is a common predicament between peers of my age. Perhaps it’s the having to part with copious amounts of money during the festive period – spending for the house and family, green packets for the little ones, awkward conversations with aunts and uncles who seem to nitpick on every aspect of your life. Or maybe it has got to do with spending Eid as a single woman, wondering when you’d be able to prepare for Eid excitedly for your kids and husband. Whatever the reason is, Eid as a struggling single twenty something is just plain boring.

I make do with baking cookies, cakes and occasionally help my mum prepare the traditional dishes we feast on the morning of Eid. House chores like literally scrubbing the floors get my mind off the fact that each Eid is the same as before – lonesome and boring. I try getting away from celebrating Eid by going to work, but I feel bad for my mum. Though to be honest, I’m quite happy working while everyone else celebrates.

One day, I’ll wake up on the morning of Eid excited to head to the mosque, dress my family up and head out for the rounds of visiting. One day, I’ll learn to appreciate the merry-making and spamming of family photos on Facebook and Instagram. One day, I’ll teach my daughter how to prepare the raya dishes and get my son to wash the windows and fix the curtains up. One day, I’ll be on my knees on the morning of Eid, with my head buried in my husband’s hand, asking for forgiveness and perhaps shedding a tear or two.

One day, that happy family portrait of mine will be hung on my wall just in time for Eid.

For now, I’ll be contented with spending the morning of Eid at home, with a cup of coffee and a bowl of lontong, watching reruns of Bujang Lapok on the telly with my three cats.

Eid Mubarak everyone.

 

Standard
Food, Recipes from the Heart

Chocolate Never Disapppoints

The thing about keeping up with social media is that you tend to go through everything you wrote or uploaded in the past decade or so. While things I’ve written in my adolescence have since been buried, I think I only grew up in the last three years or so.

I used to write a lot. I wrote my heart out. I wrote my mind out. Writing kept me sane and my mind vibrant. I was always on a verbal diarrhoea. Writing was my way of communicating, even as a child. I was always told to keep my mouth shut, so I turned to writing. As I grew older however, I learned to keep quiet – even in my writing.

You see, I discovered photography. I discovered that life will always be throwing rotten lemons and tomatoes at you. I realised that no one really gives a hoots ass about what you have to say. Whatever struggles or cause you’re fighting for, there will be others who say you’re in no position to say the things you write about. I just gave up with writing because I could not deal with the naysayers.

Photographs, on the other hand, are amazing. They say a picture says a thousand words, which means with all of my photos combined, I would have published 10 papers or perhaps 3 novels. In another life, I could be a children’s book author if I had not been told that my stories were too wild, imaginative and far fetched without a local context (this happened to me when I was eight). In another life I could have been a journalist, if I had not been told that I don’t fit the bill as one. In another life, I would not have been the me I am today.

Perhaps I will continue disappointing those around me, or maybe I was meant for the thug life. Nothing good ever comes easy, am I right? I’m far from the success I want for myself. It’s not fair for someone else to tell me that I’m done and or that I should slow down. I will walk even faster, run if I must (though I literally hate running), just to prove a point that nothing good ever comes easy, and that time truly heals all wounds.

Just when we think we’ve figured things out, the universe throws us a curveball. So we have to improvise. We find happiness in unexpected places. We find our way back to the things that matter the most. The universe is funny that way. Sometimes it just has a way of making sure we wind up exactly where we belong.

– Grey’s Anatomy

I do find happiness in unexpected places. Some places, morbid. Others, bright and cheery. Whatever curveball the universe sends to me, I’ll be ready in a heartbeat.

Very Fudgy Chocolate Muffins

Adapted from Bright Eyed Baker

fudgychocmuffins-2

Ingredients

2 cups plain flour

1 cup natural cocoa powder, sifted

2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 eggs plus 1 egg yolk

1 1/4 cups caster sugar

1/2 cup canola or vegetable oil (I used coconut oil)

1 1/2 cups sour cream (I used 1 1/2 cups milk with 1 tbsp of apple cider vinegar)

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

10 1/2 ounces chocolate chips and/or chopped chocolate (I didn’t measure the amount of chocolates I used!)

Method

  1. Beat oil, sugar and vanilla together till fluffy.
  2. Add in eggs and yolk, gradually.
  3. Add in all the dry ingredients except for the chocolates, and alternate with the sour cream.
  4. Beat until well combined.
  5. Add in chocolate chips and mix well.
  6. Bake in a preheated oven at 180 degrees for 18 to 20 minutes, or until a skewer inserted comes out clean.
  7. Serve with ice cream!
Standard