This song makes me feel like soaring!

Guillemots - Made Up Love Song #43

I love you through sparks and shining dragons, i do,
now there's poetry, in an empty coke can.
I love you through sparks and shining dragons, i do,
now there's majesty, in a burnt out caravan.

you got me off the paper round, just sprang out of the air,
the best things come from nowhere,
i love you, i don't think you care.

i love you through sparks and shining dragons, i do,
and the symmetry in your northern grin
I love you through sparks and shining dragons, i do,
i can see myself in the refill litter bin.

you got me off the sofa,
just sprang out of the air,
the best things come from nowhere,
i can't believe you care..

The Danish Poet

There was a Danish poet called Kasper Jorgensen who lived in a small apartment in Copenhagen. He was out of inspiration and so he went to see a doctor. The doctor suggested that he go on a holiday. Kasper said that he didn't have any money and he didn't speak French, so how could he go on a holiday. The doctor said why not go to Norway. Norwegians are practically Danish anyway. Kasper went to the library and found a book about confused Scandinavians. In that book he saw a famous Norwegian who was actually Danish and a Swede who was actually Norwegian. Kasper read a book written by a Danish woman who lived in Norway. He was so smitten with the book and began to feel inspired. He wrote to the writer asking if he could come to visit her. The writer welcomed him as she could use some inspiration herself.

So off Kasper set for Norway with fellow drunken travelers. When he got to Norway he asked for direction to the writer's place. The farmer said she's family and although he explained the connection it's very-very obscure that I can't remember how they were related. The farmer said he would give shelter to Kasper until the rain stops and Kasper could continue his journey. As it was, it never stops raining in Norway. And so Kasper stayed for a long time. But he didn't mind as he had already fell in love with the farmer's daughter. She was in love with him too. They couldn't be together because she was engaged to the neighbouring farmer's son. Kasper remembered that their love story resembled the story in the book whose writer he was on the way to meet. She had read it too and didn't want to be with Kasper because the girl in the book lived a life of regret when she upset her father. So Kasper took his broken heart back to Copenhagen. He never did see the writer he meant to meet. Before he left the girl gave him a lock of her hair and said that she would not cut her hair until they meet again.

Her hair grew very long and she regretted her decision. One day, as they were talking about her hair, her husband asked her to cut it. He was standing underneath a ramp to the cow shed. The ramp broke and a cow fell on him. He died. The girl immediately wrote to Kasper asking him to come and get her. The postman didn't keep the letter properly and the letter flew out of his carrier beg. Kasper never did get the letter.

She waited and waited and waited for Kasper. And her hair grew even longer. Eventually she hired the village children to help manage her hair. There was one girl who was particularly very good with her hair. She became her favourite.

The writer died. Kasper went to see the doctor who advised him to go to the funeral. The girl was advised by her hair-girl to go to the funeral as well as they were related. She was reluctant to go as the writer was Danish. The hair-girl said it doesn't matter.

Kasper and the girl met at the funeral and they were overjoyed. They went back to Copenhagen together. Kasper wrote a book of poems.

She wanted to cut her hair but Kasper didn't want her to. One day Kasper tripped over her hair and broke his arm. She took the opportunity and immediately called Norway asking the hair-girl to come.

The girl took a train to Oslo before boarding the ferry to Copenhagen. The train was full and the only empty seat was beside a young man. They talked. The young man told her that he was on his way to Copenhagen to see Kasper Jorgensen as he really liked the book Kasper had written.

They were met at the harbour by Kasper and his wife. They went to live with Kasper and wife at their place. The girl cut the wife's hair. The young man talked to Kasper. Eventually the hair-girl and the young man fell in love.

And that was how the narrator's parents met. Were it not for the broken ramp, the careless postman, and the full train, they wouldn't have met.



Aww...


This is also why I can't possibly become a writer. My writing is friggin' dry that even Hemingway would turn in his grave.

Pensive

There are times in your life when nothing seems to be working, when you can't get what your heart desires and have to settle for second bests, when you know you should be focusing on more important things but your mind unwillingly dwell on one thought, when you suddenly come face to face with the thing you've been reluctant to admit and now can't seem to let go, when you do that one little act that will open the door to other possibilities you've been denying yourself.

Isn't it funny how certain things become real once they are out in the open? Maybe it's true that certain things are better left unsaid, and now that they have been said and your mind can't seem to let go, you wish that you had the foresight to stop it from coming out. And then you can just continue to live in denial. Because living in denial is simpler.

But you thrive on complex situations because they make you feel alive and that is why you feel that you need help, but that is another story.

You wish that things will not change, but at the same time you have to accept that things might. You can try to act like nothing had happened, but at the back of your mind you live with the knowledge. You try to accept the fact that there's nothing you can do about it, and acting normal is the only way to do it. You value too much what you have now, and you can't bear the thought of losing it.

You wonder whether you'll ever be able to do it again without realizing that you're doing it now. And the realization shatters you, because the last time you had done it was the only time you truly felt it. And because the realization confirms what you have suspected of yourself for a long time.

It's too bloody much.

Weekend

I'm just gonna rant a bit about my final weekend here in London. I don't know how long I'll be away, and I want to remember this weekend. Hence I feel compelled to write this down as I have a rather shitty memory which chooses weird things to remember and very apt at forgetting the really important ones. Nothing spectacular happened, but it was just another nice weekend in good old Stoke Newington where a lot of Orthodox Jews, Muslims, and apparently lesbians live. I swear I didn't know before I moved here.

It was a pretty relaxing weekend. I went all the way to Portobello Road in west London yesterday to find something for dear Pak Lang, and although I didn't manage to get you riding goggles as promised for your Norton, I bought a pocket watch designed for the Russian KGB for you. I remember you berating me for not getting you that Chairman Mao watch when I went to Shanghai, and I'm not about to make the same mistake again. Though the only watch/clock I think iconic enough for London is the Big Ben, I don't think they'll let me take it home for you. Hence the pocket watch. For someone who is creative enough to turn old gauges from the oil rigs into clocks, I reckon you'll be able to appreciate the pocket watch. It's a real beauty. I'm haf in love in with it actually.

Of course since I was in Portobello Road, a part of town which I rarely venture into, I just had to pop in to Hummingbird to get some cupcakes. Credit to Mooke for introducing the cupcakes to me. It was a life changing moment. My life has a purpose now. Those cupcakes are worth living for. I heard that there's this craze for cupcakes in Bolehland now, maybe I should check out the cupcakes scene in KL when I get back. i like cake, big or small. And cupcakes are just so handy because of the size.

As a firm believer in spreading good things around, I got cupcakes for the Scandinavians too (Tall Dane, Mad Bag Lady [also Danish], and Mad Bag Lady's friend who's Swedish). And so I sat with them at the Safehouse later that evening and had my second cupcake for the day. Red velvet to the fore baby. How such a small thing like that can taste so good is beyond me. Really.

Spent the rest of the evening talking to the Tall Dane. It was like the old times; society, religion, personal issues all thrown in. Went to bed very late as I was surfing the internet like mad on her laptop. I still haven't bought a Mac yet ever since I lost my laptop in January, and although living in London without the Internet is comparable to having your right hand amputated (I'm left handed so maybe that doesn't apply to me), at least now I have the time to read No Logo. So you can understand that I just go berserk when I come across a laptop with internet connection. (I am typing away on her laptop now).

Went to this nice Turkish place on Stoke Newington High Street for brunch this afternoon. The food was excellent and it doesn't break your bank. I had this Menemen thing, it's like scrambled egg with minced meat and spices and spinach (I think that's what the green thing was). It was rather spicy so it was gorgeous. Downed it with a glass of OJ and I was happy. Credit goes to the Tall Dane for introducing us to that place.

After making a pit stop at my place, we went for a walk in Abney Park which is really close to my flat. Abney Park is a cemetery which is wonderfully messy. It's so dense with a lot of graves and almost forest-like with the trees and plants growing wildly. I've spent 3 Sundays going for walks in that cemetery now. I've seen it in 3 different weather and it was gorgeous whether in snow, rain, or plain old sunshine. The dates on the graves range from the 1800's to 2000's and reading the inscriptions on the headstones, I couldn't help but think about the person lying inside. I thought about the life and aspirations and dreams and loves and lovers and families. I couldn't help but to contemplate on my own life.

Almost immediately after emerging from Abney Park, we found ourselves seated at the Tea Room on Stoke Newington Church Street. We all had Rose tea which tasted very delicate save for the Mad Bag Lady who had Peppermint tea. We sat too dangerously close to the cakes on the counter and it was with Herculean effort that I managed not to stuff my face with any of them. I lost my battle with the Rock Candy though. In my defence, they were within hand reach. I fell in love with them and took 4 to take home to Bolehland.

And here I am now back at the Safehouse typing away. I am going to walk home in a bit. I'll just plan my week ahead when I reach home. From the look of things, I am going to have a tough week ahead. I'll just have to bulldoze my way through until Saturday night when I get on that plane.

To friends and family in Bolehland, I look forward to seeing you!

To London, I look forward to coming back.

The Light of Courage

My name is Nurul Azreen. It's Arabic so it means something.

Nur means 'light' (not as in weight but as in at the end of the tunnel kinda light). Al means 'the'. Azreen means 'courage'.

The fact that I once managed to score a '0' for my Arabic test (much to the chagrin of my Arabic teacher and an endless source of fun for my friends and family) is probably testimony enough for the fact my grasp of the intricate grammar of the Arabic language is very poor. Hence, I am not sure whether my name means The Light of Courage, as Mr First Boyfriend had once addressed a love letter to my home address (how's the wife doing, luv?), or if it means Light of the Courage or Light of the Courageous Ones.

I have been called brave many times, although I think that was also people being polite when they thought I was being foolhardy. I think in most cases, I am more of the latter but really, to be foolhardy, you need courage. You need to know that things would probably screw up and you should be able to handle it all.

I usually have no problem taking responsibility for my actions. If I think I'm right, I would say so. If I think I'm wrong, then I have no problem owning up and apologize. If I'm in a rather hairy situation of which I think I am being ill-treated, then I will make sure that I get to say what I need to say and then people can make up their minds. Some people describe this action as bravery, for me, it's just about being fair.

I like to think that I am a pretty independent person, a trait that has probably attracted previous boyfriends but at a later stage was definitely an issue (applicable to all relationships I've ever had). I personally disdain any kind of authority and I always treat rules, regulations, and laws more like suggestions of how to act rather than mandatory. This means that I am always in some kind of trouble. But because I'm an incurable optimist, I believe things will always work out in the end.

This is a very self-indulgent post, I realize, but since my life is being toyed with by a higher authority, I need to reassure myself that I do have the courage and strength to fight for it. And also to remind myself that although I have to do most of it on my own, I am never alone in the sense that I have people that care about me. And for that, I am grateful.

Maybe it doesn't matter whether it means The Light of Courage or Light of the Courageous Ones. For all I care it has Light and it has Courage in it, and it's a comforting thought that I can draw strength from my own name.

Thank you Mama and Ayah for giving me a nice name =)

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I feel like writing about change now.

I am one of those people who thrive on change. I am crazy about change. As soon as I'm comfortable with something, I would start yearning for change. Maybe it's the excitement that draws me to it, the fact that I don't really know what's going to happen exactly. I am such an adrenaline junkie when it comes to change.

People change. Whether they like to admit it or not, they do. I know I've changed in certain aspects. It's rather silly to quote things that I've said 5 years ago and still hold me against it now if I feel differently about it now, as I've changed. Maybe for some people it's a sign of inconsistency, but really, you should've evolved from who you were when you were 18.

I believe that we are responsible for our own life and we are the only person that can change it. This thing about changing another person is bull, because you can't change a person who doesn't want to be changed. Trust me, been there, done that. Change must come from within, or it happens gradually over time because of events and circumstances. I once had the ambition to change people. Needless to say, it was a futile endeavour. I realize now to say that wanting to change a person is a very patronizing thing to say. Perhaps we should just focus our energy at changing ourselves to be better.

I believe that we should all strive to be better. But we should do it on our own terms, according to our own needs and personalities. We shouldn't do it according to the terms of others, as it rarely works. It's ok to seek help, but to leave it all to other people doesn't work.

What do I want to change about myself? Well, I want to have a better control of my temper, I want to be a more tactful communicator, and I want to be more confident in general. I also want to be more truthful to myself and address my personal issues properly. Even if I need to seek professional help then so be it. It's about time I admit I'm crazy.

The only thing that doesn't change is change. It's the only constant thing we can rely upon.

So embrace it.

Dear Nani and Rudin

Have fun. He He He.

image credit to shoebox.

Because it's there

Edmund Hillary's answer to why did he decide to scale the inhospitable Everest.

Existential Angst

What is the fucking point of everything?

In thelondonpaper yesterday

Oh dear, Sagittarius. Feel like it's all uphill with something right now? The bad news is that you might be scaling those heights for a little while longer. The good news, however, is that you have the strength to get through this. If you find yourself feeling like you don't, call on friends who can get you through.

Happy Anniversary!

28 years ago my parents got hitched on this date.

About a year and a half later, I was produced.

After that, they stopped production.

To Mama and Ayah, Happy Anniversary!

And Mama, please spare me the details of how you celebrated. Your email yesterday gave me goosebumps.

Conversation between two potential cradle-snatchers whilst poring over wedding photos taken in Buenos Aires

Together forever is overrated.


-----

Uh, or did the conversation take place while having lunch at the cafe? It seemed now like a very unlikely thing to be said while poring over wedding photos.

Oh well. Point is, it was said.

UTM Architecture Student Top Winner of Just Jerusalem Global Competition

The irony of winning a design competition for a place we Malaysians can't enter, well, not with our passports anyways.

As always, proud to call UTM my alma mater!

(Yes despite my constant bitching about the place).

I do hope that the university will treat the architecture students a tad better after this. I've lost count of the times we've won international competitions and on those occasions they were happy enough to claim us as THEIR students.

Like it or not, we ARE the best architecture school in the country. That all Malay institution will have to bow to us, muahahahahahahaha! (Yes there are only 2 architecture schools that matter in the country, the others are pretty much dispensable. Feel free to drop hate comments.)

Of Sufiah and Fitna

Of Sufiah

Let her be.

Of Fitna

Boycotting Holland? Yawn.