Gold

It's my graduation, earlier today.

Later tonight, I had my Flickr account reactivated, and thus stumbled upon old photos, mostly dating from the year 2007 up til 2009.

It's 2011, now. All that I came out from my mouth as I went through the photos was just, wow.

We have come a long way. A way so long, even three years ago seem so far away. So many changes have happened, so many paths took different destinations. For many of us in those photographs, it's a new life now, with a new beginning. In the midst of the angst, we're hopeful.

I miss those moments. And, let's move on.

Congratulations, friends.

XVI

Just one of the nights that I feel distant.

Why is it so hard to come out with a full set of writing, nowadays? Or is this full enough?

Nocturnal: I

I will miss you forever, and ever, Jerusalem.

Ambiguous

I must say, I don't have the keen interest all built up for Hari Raya this year. When I say this, this term, I must meant the hype and the chaos, puns intended, surrounding it. The very essence of Hari Raya is, of course, untouchable, unchangeable, and it is the essence that is the only part that I hold respectful, and meaningful -- but not the whole euphoria.

I might be accused for being unorthodox, but then I'm always accused of all things. People who ask 'why--?' over this matter, or over my opinions on other matters similar, for me are unsurprising. My stand is this, and it is simple: I don't believe in things I don't understand. Be it understood, or will be understood -- it won't matter: as long as it is not comprehendible, then it is.

I did say, however, that I do appreciate the core element of the whole celebration. Yes, I do, and why not? Love, victory, happiness: who would ignore these, replace these for anything? It is the clumsy celebration that I'm against, and I wish to skip. Victory is not for those who didn't fight, love is not for those who didn't love, and happiness, is still expensive.

Label me with all labels you want, call me heretical, grim. But of this I am sure: sweetness can't be differentiated without the sour.

11 months to go until the next Ramadan.

To:

It's my last day in Makkah, today. The feeling is.. static, contemplative, nowhere at the zenith of feelings. However this, I must say: We are beautiful, and it's amazing how we can go on and live without realising that, in fact, believing in quite the opposite. We are beautiful, and we're living in beauty, though some might argue, it's not everlasting.

I'm set for Amman later today and Jerusalem tomorrow. Wish us a safe entry into the Palestinian Territories. And Selamat Hari Raya.

It was a Ramadan to be missed, dearly.

Bracket G

It's hard when you have secrets that you yourself forgot.

It's hard, and it's scary.

Mirror

They say, sketches are often reflections of ourselves.

What if, the sketches are a part of us,
the part that has been taken away, often for the good, often for the world to see and appreciate?

Schaulager, by Herzog & de Meuron, Basel, Switzerland; June 2010. Charcoal on paper.

Textures & Details: Solo

Once a mighty Javanese empire, the Sultanate of Mataram was divided by their colonial masters -- the Dutch -- giving birth to two smaller monarchies. One; Yogyakarta, strived and struggled to be mighty: loud in modern Indonesian politics, having acquiring the special region status, thus strong in influence and power. The other, Surakarta -- or Solo -- took a much silent path, from perhaps a regrettable past, into a possible future.

Solo seems untouched, unlike its much popular and favoured bigger sister, Yogyakarta. Both cities are related, and in many sense, close neighbours. And both are at the beating heart of the Javanese culture, nestled in the middle of the densely-populated Java, going about their lives while being concentrated to the main node: the important institution of the kraton. Intricate, gentle, subtle, exquisite: these make up the details and textures of the fine characteristics of the Javanese cultural context, and of course, the content.

With Solo, things go closer to authentic.

Afternoon walk.

Motorists pass by the roads penetrating through the compound of the kraton, namely the Kraton Surakarta Hadiningrat, the seat of the Javanese monarchy now headed by Pakubuwono XIII.


One of the gates leading to the alleys serving the houses, usually belonging to the servants and workers of the kraton.

A statue of Hanuman, a prominent monkey figure in Hindu-Buddha folklore, stands guarding one of the gates of the palace compounds.

One of the prominent blue doors of the alleyways, locally known as gang.

Youngsters take a walk in the southern alun-alun, a public square, within the kraton compounds. Successfully crossing the two banyan trees blindfolded, as legends told, signifies a pure heart.

Mobile food vendor selling bakso bakar, grilled meatballs -- a dish famous throughout Indonesia.

Transport. Income. Shelter.

On a journey to freedom.

Photos are from January - February trip to Java, Indonesia.

Nightmare.

I have a nightmare. A nightmare that will catch me when I'm awake -- especially when I'm awake -- robbing all my beautiful dreams, leaving only bad thoughts that will send me paralysed, easily. It will attack, like a disease, anytime, even during when I'm at the happiest -- which is a rarity, anyhow. It resides within my laughters and my tears. It seems to be never-ending, it seems stubborn, it seems to not wanting to go anywhere.

Should I be scared? I think I deserve to be scared. I think I should.

This nightmare attacks me most in the form of memories. Of course. Whatever that I have tried to forget, or succeeded in forgetting, it will revive. Whatever that I want to remember, it will wash away, in a manner of how water and soap wash away dirt. Not necessarily with a trace, but clean. Undesirably, the most unfathomable, the villainous of thoughts stick. And they spread.

Whenever this nightmare comes, it will send me chills. I will shiver. I have to shiver. It is the mechanism, this shivering: it'll jot away the pain, an attempt to return to sender, but always in vain. I have to sit down. Worse, I have to recline, lie down, and sleep. Often times, sleep is always the best remedy to this nightmare. The irony.

The subject on whether I really own this nightmare, or is it somebody else's, remains unanswerable.

I miss you.

Plans

Anxious.

For A Journey.

To everyone, whenever. Love, and be loved.

ibid

I feel like vomiting all the things that I have said. I feel a strong verbal nausea.

worse -- I feel a strong unbalance, both physical and mental.

Bracket F

Well.

Bracket E

Masalahnya, layakkah?

Malaysia, It is Time.

A comment I put up in my studio group in, MMX, in Facebook. Perhaps it is kind to have it shared here.

***

Hi friends,

1. I am worried that the paranoia over Dato' Ambiga's defence of Lina Joy's case is being overprojected by, practically, everyone being against the demonstration or the entity they defined as 'the Opposition', in general.

First off it was Lina Joy's personal err, in which it was her decision to convert. May I remind everyone that this can happen anytime: whether she is under a secular government or any Islamist government implementing the Sharia, or even within an anarchy.

This is not the case of 'Melayu Mudah Lupa'. To forget is never exclusive only to Malays. It's a human thing. The root of the Arabic word for humans, which is insan, is 'to forget', and forget did Lina Joy.

She was a Muslim. And she forgot what Al Aiman repetitively said in this discussion, 'to hold to the Qur'an and the Sunnah'. And didn't the Qur'an and the Sunnah ruled out clearly on matters regarding leaving Islam altogether?

She now needs a lawyer. There was Dato' Ambiga.

2. A lawyer, no surprise, acts according to Law. And the Law, holds the Federal Constitution. Fortunately for some, unfortunately for others (something referred to as 'loopholes' by members of this discussion) the Constitution grants freedom of practicing any religion of choice.

A lawyer, no surprise, acts according to Law. And the Law, holds the Federal Constitution. Fortunately for some, unfortunately for others, the Federal Constitution was approved by our nation's founding forefathers. And they were..

Certainly it wasn't Dato' Ambiga.

3. I'm a Bumiputra. A Sanskrit word. Bhumi - soil, putra - son, hence 'son of the soil'. Since this is an MMX group, definitely joined by solely UiTM students, everybody here is a Bumiputra too. So everybody here is 'sons of the soil' and like Sara Azmi argued, we're UiTM students ultimately because of this reason. I agree.

But this doesn't pave any way for us to be afraid of other 'races', what more breeding hatred towards them. We can't be racists, and we can't condone racism. The Quran said so. And the Qur'an, as the most non-racist, non-discriminatory book on the planet, also states that we have been made different from each other to learn from each other.

Can we do that? Yes.

We got skills from the past few years. Whatever we got from our Perak and Shah Alam lecturers, be them pro-Team 10 or just a regular DK Ching adherent trying to amend things, they tought us skills. Do move forward from these skills. Nothing's going to stop you. The world is so vast. Go out. Play. Laugh. Learn. Live. Die.

Adam was from the soil. Adam is a Bumiputra. Adam is human.

Whatever you do, come, celebrate being a human.

4. I was with a bunch of humans yesterday. Humans collectively known as Malaysians. They possess the same traits humans all over dearly possess: feelings. And they felt.

Those who didn't walk, felt too. They felt angry: "Hah, habislah Melayu! Diperbodohkan bangsa lain!" "It will be another May 13, 1969!" "Ini semua agenda pihak luar nak tengok bangsa kita berpecah belah!" "Tak bersyukur!"

I was with a bunch of humans yesterday. We were happy. I wasn't sure whether was it the rain, or it is me who shed tears.

I told my closest friend, who was with me in that rally: "Semua orang ada, semua orang! I never thought I'd live to see this!"

What I meant was, I never thought I'd live to see Malaysians from all walks of life - and, well, in a 1Malaysia campaign's words, 'berbilang bangsa dan agama' - walked side by side, being humans.

How beautiful it is, to be human, in Malaysia, yesterday!

5. Everything goes with context. This goes without saying in design, and eventually life. And Allah has allowed us to be born in 1989, to live as a Muslim in the 21st century, in the midst of 6 billion people.

6 billion people in possession of lots and lots of ideas.

We have to go with this. We have to design things with this, this context. If we continue to have fear that 'other people will chase us out', or 'kita akan dijajah dalam negara sendiri', we're not bound to be far ahead.

The world is wide, but the akal is much wider. Put barriers in our minds, and no surprise that our world will be smaller.

All the best, friends.

***

And all the best, Malaysia.

Bracket D

My heart is sealed the closest now, if anybody notices. It's too late.

Senseless Dawn

The whole 140-character thing Twitter has apparently is, quite unfortunately, bugging me from writing longer sentences. The magic is, though, is how Twitter has managed to force at least a portion of its users to explain whatever that they're feeling (or, accurately, what's happening) into a composed text in a limited number of characters. I personally think that, disciplinary in writing-wise at least, it's clever.

Moving on -- rolled up my blinds as usual today, as soon as the time on my laptop ticks 6:44AM. I'm not sure about that though, I mean, why -- why did I rolled up the blind right after that. Recalling that, which just happened half an hour ago anyway, shouldn't 6:44AM be a bit too early to roll up the blinds, the curtain, or whatever that's covering your windows? It's wrong and funny, especially for Malaysian time. Where the hell did I think I was?

It's just one of the little nonsensical things I do -- doing things unconsciously. I have been unconscious especially for the past few days, and while some of you won't like reading this, it's kind of becoming a fact that I'm accepting. If last year, the Depression has caused me to twirl all over and to some extent turned blind, this new phenomenon -- albeit familiar -- seems confusing. 

Now, slouching towards the end of February, the pain suddenly strikes back. It's like an old friend visiting. Funny thing though, I greeted it with no surprise. Though I must believe, that it's beginning to periodically altering some of my forcefully-arranged routines, so-called, of the things I do to distract me from all these pain (and, rather ironically, intended to change my life).

I must say that even I myself am worried along the way of jotting this down. As usual my sleep watch has been toggled greatly -- God knows when I'm asleep and when I'm awake, it can be anytime! I'm already fixing it, the sleep cycle, the focus part, the workload, everything. However it just keeps coming.

For the mean while, I'm just moodless. At many times, I'm beyond speechless. I'm finding myself at odds not only with the person I have been trying so much to avoid, but now with nearly everyone, my Timeline, my studio mates, even my closest of friends. Is this part of the paranoia, the trauma, signs of an early new stage of pain, or what?

...I don't know how to conclude this. Solutions, at many times, just conclude myself to leave. I obviously can't. What, then?

You Can't Be Scared Now, Boy

What are you scared of now?

Ex Nihilo: An Album

The streets of London are often relatively empty during Christmas, so I came to make my friend and brother, Haziq, stroll along the city paths nearly aimlessly. Void of any obvious connotations of landmarks, the myriad of London's small but distinct characteristics are still put in place in each photos, to be noticed by the keen-eyed. It's my intention of delving into some form of intervention into the scenes, by putting Haziq, already static in mood I presumed, onto the very dynamic streets of London, with its rich contexts pulsing greatly even in the midst of the winter holiday.

The silence of the streets revolved into a higher amplitude of pedestrian parade, when people thronged to the Embankment to usher into 2011. Joined by other acquaintances, our walk into the new year is also translated here, with the deliberately omitted fireworks reinterpreted in the forms of smiles and lights.

The bright hues in reality were regenerated into a heavy presence of black & white, while strongly indicating solemnity, puts a hint in the increasing (physical) absence of the heat in the actual settings. All over the photos, a mood of reflection is to be suggested, derived from the life downturns of 2010. In the remaining life assets I could possess towards the end of last year, it is in my clear intention to suggest hope and renewal albeit myself being trapped in a loss, hence the title being 'Ex Nihilo', from the Latin phrase meaning 'out of nothing'.

The full album is in Facebook.

Umbra Sumus

On my flight home from Amsterdam just earlier today, I was seated beside an old, sweet Polish couple. The red-haired woman, in all the struggles of trying to speak as much as good English as she could when conversing with me, sputtered the word 'beautiful' when I told her that I'm studying architecture. It was because of her that, with a slight hope that is definitely void of expectations, I wished guiltily that things could be going just like she mentioned it to be: beautiful. 

It was raining quite heavily for a morning downpour upon my ascend onto KL. In a manner all similar to a sloth, I was quite in a bummed mood. I didn't want to go back to Malaysia, to where I'm studying. It seems that London, despite my constant and repetitive visits, caught me this time. My recent visit there, in all oddities, made me fell in love with the neighborhoods I have never cared before, and I'm starting to think in a way an immigrant does whenever upon he steps his foot in the good old great city: I want to start things anew. With slight corniness, I'm proud so say that I think I just did.

The Klang Valley, of course, taught me a lot of things, and since I grew up here, it's just befitting to say that it's a very firm part of my life, the setting of all the good times and the tragedies. Shah Alam and PJ are the center stage, with KL and the Subang Jaya areas aren't to be left out, with Ampang as the recent addition, alongside the farfetched areas of Klang, Gombak and Kajang which still play some roles anyhow. 

For London, however, it was just another city to visit when I first came there. It was only three years ago, and for Malaysian standards, that's new. It was another city that Malaysians, to some extent,  frequented to upon the basis of being indulged in some level of 'classiness' and 'prestige'. In other words, most Malaysians either flock to London specifically and the UK in general just to study or to spend the their new money while intending to tell the same malignancy in their stories of their visits (which, typically involves visits to the Palace, Madame Tussaud's and areas around the Thames' embankment) to their friends and stories back home.

At least until the sixth time of my visit, I still saw London in that light. The London of double-decker keychains and cheesy sightseeing tours, to be topped with photos with the red telephone booth and the Royal Guards. There's nothing wrong with those, in which, however, all of them I have never done before, not even once, during my visits. This, to me, is the lighter part of London. The beautiful, all-laughter, severely touristy and occasionally thrifty part of London. Reality came to me, strangely, during my last visit last Christmas and the New Year's. 

And the reality, out of all words and even weirdly for me to say, is enchanting.

Collectively, I saw the city as a good teacher. It condemned me, then it healed me. It condemned my friends, and it healed them. I had a huge chunk of deal of drama over there, all of which dealt with many different kinds of people -- some I love, some I have ceased to love. The Tube lines remind me of a certain past and a distant future, the street smells gave me a sense of being nostralgic, and the districts and neighborhoods are just being reincarnated for me to be just as amazing as the world. 

It was in the parks and hidden corners, often with surprising offerings, that I sought refuge in pain. It is true that in any good city, that the roads, the buildings and the people will ignite all your human senses which in return makes you, well, human. London did that to me. Alongside with millions of others who have said this, I'm saying that the city is, indeed, special. To be fair to other cities that I have lived and visited, they have their own qualities too, but embedded within this overgrown village sprawling from the West End and the East End is something that I have found a must to be treasured in a part of my heart, if not all parts.

I must have said all these upon the realisation that life isn't always 'glamour' and 'easy' in London like the New Malays converging in Kensington and the streets of Queensway and Bayswater are picturing. For many students, even those with scholarships, it's a struggle of life. As I became grown with my visits, I find that it is a must to respect whatever that everybody's doing in this city -- Malaysians and other citizens of the globe included -- and that London is no playground for the non-serious to criticise whatever that others' are doing. It is a point to amalgamate, respect and understand each other to make the city, and eventually the world, go round and round.

These conclusions should have came from my intention to stay in London for awhile to escape, and ponder, after a stupid period of a huge depression to put my mind back to its pieces. From that point I the city has seemed for me to be presenting itself from a wholly oblique, new perspective, the buses offering views from another angle, the walks telling me different stories from the familiar footpaths. From the foolishness of myself, I have became aware of the foolishness of others: something my best friend, Dira, who came to London from Sheffield for my visit, pointed out as a 'phobia'. She got her point. 

It was from this phobia, most probably, that I ventured out for new 'hoods even in a city that many see that is alien to me. I rediscovered the East End.

That's another story altogether. Then there's Amsterdam, and the next thing I know, I'm already back here facing the realities at home. I find some friends are willing to leave me out of their lives altogether, which I find very amazing. Yet I find comfort and safety amongst those who still cared. And in the messy state that I'm already in this morning -- I kind of right away coming to the studio straight from the airport, the extra things you get when you study in the KL area, not Perak -- I find that what I have to do is relax and keep calm, just like what I have done all the time in London.

May we all have a good year ahead of us. Just like the inscription that I saw on one of the buildings at the Brick Lane: Umbra Sumus. We Are All But Shadows.

The visual memoirs for the trip, both London and Amsterdam, is translated in the album "Ex Nihilo" in Facebook. Ex Nihilo is a Latin phrase for 'out of nothing'.