Goodbye, Ms Nadrah!

Last day of work last Friday and the kids gave me this.

I'm gonna miss the kids driving the adults crazy.

Psyched, not cooked.

Dulu, masa aku kemaruk nak belajar memasak, asal masuk dapur je mesti kena halau dengan mama. Sebab aku buat kerja bersepah. Dan mungkin aku tak reti memasak, so hanya akan melambatkan proses dia memasak. Basically, she likes to do it on her own.

Kemudian, bila aku tanya orang macam mana nak masak, rata-rata orang akan kata - secukup rasa. Eh hello, secukup rasa macam mana tu? Satu sudu ke, dua sudu ke, secubit ke apa ke. Gua tak reti lah, bro!

Tapi tu dulu. (Bukannya pandai masak dah pun, cuma boleh lah nak gemukkan diri sendiri)

Sekarang ni, mengikut pengiraan dan pertikaian aku, cooking is 1 part ingredients the other parts confidence. Confident je kau nak masak apa okay, lepas tu hias cantik-cantik. Reverse psychology, orang kata.

But then it hit me. Cooking is beyond the procedures of it.

I asked mama the other day on how to cook Laksa Johor (yer cita-cita tinggi, tapi tak ada bahan pun kat sini). After giving me a whole list of ingredients yang tak boleh dapat kat sini, at the end she said: "Baca je Bismillah, and cook it with love. InsyaAllah, sedap lah tu nanti".

And Freud said, "Psychoanalysis is in essence a cure through love". You don't need to be in therapy to see psychoanalytic thinking in progress. It's everywhere in life.

And even in Islam, you're urged to eat food to the purest of forms. I mean, genetically modified food is not good for your health anyways. What more with the whole issue of having emulsifiers with pork in it, Halal chicken made fat with animal proteins or even food containing alcohol (even to the tiniest bit).

In a family institution, ideally, we are to eat home-cooked food together at the dinner table. And it is at the dinner table where we converse to one another at the end of the day. Eating food cooked from the purest of forms with love by the mother and put on the table by the father. Nourishments for the souls, both parents and kids.

Think about it.

Even at the start of a family institution, we have two separate individuals who have gone through two separate childhood, growing environment and phases of lives. These two would have to adapt and assimilate to each others' taste buds developed through their respective households and childhood. Years later, the kids would attain that nuclear family's collective taste buds and would have to assimilate further in future. And so forth.

Macam nak masak soto ayam tapi ada banyak cara.

Point is?

Entah, daging yang aku main masak je tadi sedap lah jugak. Hehe

At war!

Swimming in the sea of psychoanalytic jargons. Redundant, I know.

I bet my followers on Twitter are sick of me tweeting about my love-hate relationship with Freud. Freud, Freud, Freud, Freud. And Freud.

I spoke to a good friend of mine, and the discussion on knowledge and Truth went on and on. We can only know as much as a drop of water in the mighty ocean. Yet, we strive for perfection in our academic papers.

We know perfection is not ours and that we can only know just as much. We attempt to practice and live up our lives to the Truth as urged and sent. But yet, it's like we have this little innate chip in us saying - perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect prefect.

And we came to the conclusion, kami salahkan sistem pendidikan negara.

What made me think I can do this MSc. again?

Summer '69, not.

Das Ich.

Essay writing.

And my little orange Recesky courtesy of cinta hati, all the way from home.

Hee, I love!

Psyched, not baked.

Psyched and Baked or,

Baked and Psyched?

“They had forgotten the pudding they were cooking and it was getting burnt.” Freud, Studies on Hysteria.

Why have you not?

In the outskirts of my mind;

A composition
of pragmatism.

Ideal.

O'
what cruelty
the outside
world bears!

Tis'
not equal
to a reflection even.

Naught
but shadows
of this
restless transition.

But,
is he not real?

That corner
you've kept
secretly sacred.

Hath he not
whispered
fine-sounding
words,

resembling
poetries of
the finest feeling?

That garden
of your unconscious
made conscious.

That flame,
into light.

Why then
haven't you
stepped outside,

and let live?

Gaya Bebas

Berjalaga dalam lautan kata-kata akademia.

Dan rindu.

Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction

Reverse Psychology. The thing with this is that when you reverse this, and you reverse it again, and reverse it again, and again, and again, it gets really complicated. And when you really get into your head, and once you've passed that certain point inside it, you can't turn back. That's what happened to me

- A patient in the psychiatric ward I volunteer in.

Despite it being one of the classic philosophical questions, it remains in the grey area without any clear distinction between the black and the white. And the very problem with Truth is that, it is pragmatic.

Truth and Reality differs accordingly across individuals. What may be true for you, may not be true for me. But that's just the problem right there.

How true is Truth?

You see, I am constructed towards subjectivity and pragmatism leaving little space for objectivity and the sort. I like to think I'm Cartesian in some ways. I am also, a highly intuitive being which means most of the time, decision-makings are rarely based on facts. Because facts can be manipulated.

I was also a science student who scored fairly decent grades for my science papers, and what I've learned is that variables too can be manipulated. So despite the knowledge that Life is full of variables which requires us to accomodate, to a certain extent, variables are manipulated by an outer force. Why? To attain that certain outcome that has been longed for.

These thoughts started to reconstruct themselves (since I last studied on Truth and Reality few years back) when I was writing this particular essay few odd weeks ago which centralises the notion of intersubjectivity and mutual ground.

What happens when 2 constructions of (true) reality do not fit and accommodate one another?

I was at one of the wards in the local psychiatric hospital for my volunteering. What we are supposed to do is converse with the patients which would be a really good practice with what I'm learning. But that apart;

I was conversing with one of the patients who conveyed to me clearly her distinction of Truth and Reality. I supposed, it gave a sense of confidence of what she was telling since she has been 'clinically diagnosed'. It is then manageable to distinguish between the Reality shared by most individuals (including myself) and an individual who has been 'clinically diagnosed' with delusions (or perhaps 'psychoses'). Hence, some sort of a black and white realm on its own.

But what has been racing back and forth at the back of my mind is the grey area of pragmatic Truth and Reality. The kind where you know in reality, the person is not 'clinically diagnosed' of any psychopathology, but the 'Truth' spoken by the person is highly unlikely. It may be logical, but due to circumstances, you just know it is unlikely. After all, the highly intelligent individuals are the sort - refer to Silence of the Lamb. It is the state of being in between two polarisations that swallow us all.

What is worse in these conditions is that when you start doubting your Self, Truth and Reality that it may destroy your internalisations as you can only take as much. I mean sure you may say it's all about your self-esteem, confidence and the sort. But if you believe in pragmatism and subjectivity as much as I do, the lines get blurry.

But I guess that's where Faith comes in.

Save The Last Dance.

You see, growing up I have always failed to see the significance of a dance.

The one that takes two to tango. Ballroom dancing or that overrated prom dance that you kids look forward to. It may be because I was not brought up in a culture where these dances do not place a heavy emphasis, or that this aspect of Westernization has not been well spread to that part of the world that I grew up in. I grew up learning traditional Indian dance, Ghamelan, and occasionally the not-so-Malay-dances because really, they're all just jumbled up to one another. But that was when I was below 12. I can't dance, I can't sing. But I like to think so.

So point is, I grew up failing to see the significance of a dance.

There was this time, when The Killers' single from Day & Age, Human, came out, my friend texted me and asked why did Brandon Flowers wrote "Are we humans or are we dancers?". Unbeknownst of the accurate answer (which I found out 1 year and odd months later), I said it was because dancers were tied down to the beats and melodies of a song, they merely follow the beat and just dance. They're not given much space to exercise human qualities. Humans, are much more complexed than just dancing. Humans are constructed by many pragmatic truths and realities whereas dancers, are attuned towards the music.

Yet, I still fail to see the significance of a dance.

It was in class that it hit me. A dance (at least a metaphorical one) shared by two individuals is brilliantly beautiful.

Two individuals meet at a mutual ground, and take a test of the compatibilities of their minds. If their minds are compatible, they move in sync in the dance. They reciprocate with the beat of the music. They don't need to put much effort to collaborate, because even to the slightest move and the way they hold each other signifies the common ground that they share.

On the other hand, if they fail to meet in the common ground and feel one another, that's where the rupture is. If it was a collaboration and negotiation that we look for, that can be arranged in all human interactions and what you need is just tolerance. But dances take more than that, it takes a common feeling found in that mutual ground of two individuals. No technical aspects are required. After all, you're told to feel the music not analyse it. You sing and feel the lyrics, not criticize the structure and the grammar of its lyrics.

And that's what it's supposed to be like.

You can dance your entire life with the people you meet. The choreography will differ from one dance to another. It will also, gives you different impacts in your life. You can definitely always try a new dance routine with a new dance partner. But ask yourself this: Do you have to be technical about it or do you just let it come naturally?

When do you feel most alive? (Redundant)

Passion gives me moments of wholeness

Anaïs Nin

"When do you feel most alive?", I asked a good friend of mine just 5 days before the new year. There isn't any rationale behind my question, of course. Just the state of feeling as a part of the whole; a tiny node of the complex ecology. And out of curiosity of the other individual's internalisation.

But mostly because, there are times when I get the feeling of emptiness. You know, the feeling where you feel you're really just drifting through time and getting caged up inside your head?

There are also, moments when I feel fulfilled and alive. It is when I'm reading concepts, ideas and interventions on solipsism with a particular playlist on my iPod driven by that particular muse. Or when I walk in the halls of the local psychiatric ward last Monday for an interview.

And I didn't know what it was until yesterday...

Passion, that's all it takes.

Relational Concept.

They don't correlate for nothing. It's all over the space. Coincidences are for 4-year-olds who think the world is small, and not relative.

And really,

I'm just talking about my essay unless of course you can read it into something else. I mean come on, what do you think I am, four?

To the uninspired state.

It is like when you attempt to look deeper and all you get is void.

It is like acknowledging the presence of your Muse,

but you rather not move your limbs towards.

It is like investing a quarter of your life,

but you are still unsure of your own capabilities.

It is like falling in an endless pitfall. Only it takes no form.

It is like trying to swim in the mighty ocean of rowdy tidal in the middle of nowhere.

But all you do is just float.

Apa benda ni lah weh? Aku nak buat esei.

All I feel are these.

Oscar Wilde: An Extract.

Soul and body, body and soul - how mysterious they were! There was animalism in the soul, and the body has its own moment of spirituality. The senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade. Who could say, where the fleshly impulse ceased, or the physical impulse began? How shallow were the arbitary definitions of ordinary psychologists! And yet how difficult to decide between the claims of the various schools! Was the soul a shadow seated in the house of sin? Or was the body really in the soul, as Giordano Bruno thought? The separation of spirit and matter was a mystery, and the union of spirit and matter was a mystery also.

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde (p. 48)

Still Life

One Day Like This.

The covered women and a pinch of Feminism.

Again, I'm assured that all of these were orderly planned by the Divine One. Alhamdulillah.

I'm better when I don't think, seems to get me through.

(Above the latest version, and below the one before).

Hello. Since 2010 seems like the year where there all the new albums are coming up, including I Am Kloot amongst others such as Manic Street Preachers, Gorillaz and Interpol.

I absolutely love this video by I Am Kloot because it is very minimal yet heavy and rich with emotion. I suppose they re-made the video. Enjoy!

Oh btw, one of the reasons Freud is one of the geniuses is because he tells of defense mechanism. Regression for example, where one retreats or regresses to a phase of life where life was more pleasant and free from frustration and anxiety. Also, the state of denial. I mean, come on, get a fucking grip. Pun fucking intended.

"I'm gonna start a revolution from my bed," sings Liam.

I was asked at dinner the night before on what my aspirations were to get myself at this particular point of my life. If you ask me, it was a pretty heavy topic to discuss over tea with 5 friends after a long day. A heavy topic in which I wouldn't lay down every details of it. It was the choice between a generalise answer or vice versa. But I figured this wasn't a therapy session but a conversation 'normal' people had.

Honestly, I was digging my own mind to answer. I don't know why, but every other time one asks me why this and not anything else, I go blank. Kind of like doing an assessment. A bit of a Hawthorne effect. It's not that I am not in touch with my sense of aspiration. I suppose it is difficult to paint a picture for another without missing every details of the context without misleading them into a different interpretation. Well, nobody said it was easy.

So I subtly dodged the question by tempting them into how one's being could meet life's abnormalities like Schizophrenia or Bipolar Disorder. I cheated.

Today in class, we talked about Aspirations. The kind of why we individuals wanted to be where we were sitting right that particular moment. There wasn't a "one size fits all" situation, but there were similarities. The kind of innate motivation that brought us there on that particular day.

Wasn't it Rumi who said, "The lamps are different, but the light is the same"? It's exactly that. Notice "the Light", and if you like, al-Noor, surah 24 in the Holy Quran.

I could not help but laughed in appreciation. It is indeed perfect how the cosmos work. We had similar drives, the urge of wanting to shine light to our Selves as well as to other people and their Selves. Searching a sense of Self and meaning. Facilitating one's personal growth and development. We were somewhat damaged at some points of our lives. We were going to discover the undiscovered depths on one's psyche. Brought by our own self-awareness, we want to experience somesort of therapy.

We want to get a grasp of Life.

I am content, Alhamdulillah.

(I've got to come up with better titles).

Depart(mental)

I went for a medical check up and a vaccine shot. Upon examining my physique, the lady doctor questions on my family medical history followed by, "Do you have any problems?"

I dislike general questions so I asked her politely, "What kind?"

"Any kind," she answered.

I told her, "Physically, no problems" and I laughed.

"You have mental problems?" she asked.

"Plenty," I said.

After questioning my academic background she says, "Now I get what you mean.. Haha!".

Mardy Bum

There's this book that I've been reading. Well, in general it's about Life and melancholia.

Then of course, my friend who is doing Meds in Melbourne, reblogged a post on the great Virginia Woolf. I had to verify with her if whether Woolf had Bipolar Disorder. Then she said, in her psychology text book - "among the famous people who ever lived, of those depressed, 70% were writers." So Woolf had Depression and psychosis induced. Then she committed suicide.

I wasn't surprised. My enthusiasm grew. Even Carl Jung himself had psychosis. Jung claimed that, neurosis is knowledge. How else would you know more of your interior?

All the best people are bonkers. You'd be too normal, plain and boring if you weren't.

So there is beauty in breakdown, bak nyanyian Imogen Heap.

A Redundant: Sound of Settling

I know it is quite a comedy if I were to echo Ben Gibbard, "If you have an impulse, let it out". I mean, after all the preaching - where you're not supposed to be impulsive, you have to digest and analyze entities, before you do anything stupid. Act maturely, and all that conundrum.

Discussions of educational institutions took place. These healthy conversations reminded me of my personal mental connotations on 'Educational Institutions'.

Sure, we take things for granted from where we are now. Teenagers grow into young adults, and pursue their tertiary studies. The norm (at least for most of us), attend classes, participate (in frequent remorse manner) in activities and such. Then we jump back into our lives - whatever your definitions of 'living' might be. To many, academic life may be a supplementary definition to life, to some it may be a complementary entity, and to few it is life.

For some awkward reason, I have always felt that at this particular phase of life, we are to develop and generate. Well, in the sense where participating in reformations and revolutions is part of the norm. Being a radical sort of gesture. But of course, that's not entirely it.

I mean, what is the definition of "being radical" (in Malaysia) anyway? We are the society of polarized and unsymmetrical diversified views.

So what, embrace relativism and subjectivity? Then, we would've given birth to moral anarchists.

The thing is, my implication about the roles of a Tertiary Education Institution contradicts the ideology of Primary and Secondary schools where ideally, students are to be manufactured products of orderliness.

Think uh schools that constantly mandate students on obedience - physically (e.g. uniforms, hair, sleeves, socks, etc.) and behaviorally. The very idea to instill somewhat 'extreme' orderliness to these students sickens me. I mean, uh, whatever happened to individual's autonomy?

Educational Fascists? How can fascism imposed to kids be educational? I mean, how can not exercising one's beautifully diversified nature be educational? How on earth, is perfect order embracing life?

Maybe, they are "just" associates to Mussolini or something.

But I suppose, the idea of this fascism has not done much to us kids. We are living our diversified lives accordingly, anyway. And that dear reader, is another (problematic) issue.

Ke arah authoritarian salah, ke arah Utopia salah. Macam mana!

Written on September 14, 2009 by yours truly on Facebook Notes.