Acrostic Poem: About A Random Colour In My Mind

Bring to me all of your broken bowls

Let’s fill the cracks with silver or gold

Use them again fulfiling their roles

Each line beholds stories untold


Note to self, 28 August 2015

Words can break your heart but remember that it must never break your spirit. You do have people who love you and always look forward to see you come home and thats what matters.

Feeling sorted out


How I wish sometimes life can be neatly sorted out or compartmentalised like what we do with objects or like gardening for that matter. Where you can visibly spot the good roots from the rotten. But in reality its not that simple. I’m not saying its impossible to do, just need some personal time, space and perhaps some sage advice from a very experience gardener to help you weed out the bad roots away from the good roots. Now my references starting to sound strange! Anyway, I find myself fortunate to have a wonderful and very wise friend who recently helped me get myself “sorted”. I shouldn’t worry too much and just think positively. Sometimes the simplest advice is the most hardest to do. But then again, who is making it hard on myself? No one but me. Time to start looking forward in life or I shall find myself trying to get out of this confusing maze that I had build myself.

Happiness is a choice?

I’ve read many articles written about depression but this one really hits the spot about how what I’ve been experiencing. Acknowledging this for the first time openly, feels somewhat weird but a little liberating. I don’t where this will take me but I know something just doesn’t feel right, but I do want to do something about it. Is being happy a choice or a gift? If its the latter, it will be the one thing I would like to give to myself. For now, I’d take one day at a time.

Dealing with expectations

Look, if you can’t handle a situation don’t apologise because you can’t deal with it. There’s nothing wrong with taking a step back and it does not make you look weak.  Unless it your bloody fault, then go fix it!

A tip on moving on with your life – find a bigger purpose to live for

Whether you are dealing with the death of someone close to you, a broken heart, or the demise of a long friendship, trying to move on with your life may seem pointless and sometimes you may even feel life is not worth living. Looking back, I think the lowest points in my life was when I became so miserable and full of self-loathing that I started Googling topics about misery, suicide, pain and loss. I wanted to feel even more hurt and pain than I felt. It was the most horrible feeling in the world but at that time, it was the only thing I could feel. I’ve learned that through the many trials I faced in my short life so far is that the thing that keeps me going, is thinking about having a bigger sense of purpose in my life. This is something that I set out for myself. It doesn’t sound like an easy solution, but it works for me and it takes a lot of self-discipline, time and patience. I firmly believe that time is a great healer. I have not found that bigger purpose in my life yet but I’m getting pretty close to it and it’s ok. The thought process was enough to distract me from my own self-inflicted misery which does nothing but prolonging the agony. It’s like dragging a mill stone around my neck. It’s ok to cry and feel hurt, but then remember to look up to the skies and see the passing clouds or the sunset that you missed.

Something about friendships

1) Ask questions. We may be best friends for a month or 20 years, but that doesn’t make you or me a mind reader.

2) If I don’t text or call you every other day, it means I am living my own fucking life. And yes, you’re still in it if you stop being so paranoid.

3) If you asked for my opinion, be prepared for my answer no matter how painful it is to hear. If you prefer sweet-nothings, sorry babe I’m not the friend for you right now.

4) I don’t sit with you sometimes at social gatherings because I just want to talk to other people and not because I’m avoiding you.

5) Me being quiet when we are out together is not a sign of unhappiness or displeasure, I am trying to be a good listener to you while you rant!

Discovering my heritage

I know, I know. It’s been a while since I last posted. A lot has happened just last week alone. The passing of my paternal grandmother, marks the inevitable phase of our lives where we no longer have our elders with us. I lost my paternal grandfather at a very young age and I barely knew him. My grandmother was able to live with me and my family for 4 years and I am grateful that my 6-year old son got to know his great-grandmother. I don’t know how many children his age get to experience that. What I discovered about my paternal grandparents after the funeral was even more intriguing than I could imagine. I love studying about history but I was never ever keen to look into mine. Long story short, its just too much drama. I grew up believing that I was mainly of Javanese descent. Until my uncle told me otherwise. It all started after the funeral that I asked my uncle just one simple question. I wanted to know the real name of my grandmother as I was aware that she had somewhat changed/shorten it. It was then my uncle started to tell me the story of the origins of my grandparents’ heritage that just completely shocked me. I wasn’t prepared to listen to all that as I had not slept the night before keeping vigil. So I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to listen to a history lecture.

I discovered that my paternal grandmother was not Arab as I was thought she was. She was of Burmese and Turkish descent. She was born in Pahang, Malaysia and her full name was Engku Siti Sharifah Zaharah Binte Syed Sheikh Mahmud Al-(this last name is unclear). When she was born, she received the royal hereditary Malay title of ‘Engku’ which is equivalent to a princess. Her mother was Burmese and goes by the name Wok Kelat Rendang. It sounded similar to her Burmese name. My late grandmother had shorten her name and dropped her royal title when she lived in Singapore.

According to my uncle, my late grandmother’s life in Singapore began when she and her family escaped in a ship bound for Singapore. They were misinformed to believed that they will be safe if they relocated to Singapore to escape from the Japanese. Instead, when they reached Singapore, the Japanese launched their attack on the island shortly after.

My late grandfather however, is of Javanese and Dutch heritage and he was from Solo Central Java. He was born with a Javanese royal hereditary title of Raden. His full name was Raden Mohayat Bin Raden Haji Jabbar. His mother (my great grandmother) was Kian Binte Simon Van Holsen Abdullah. I didn’t find out anything more from my uncle as I was just so overwhelmed at that time.

It has been really interesting to discover these information about my family history. It took me a few days just to process it. I am now quite intrigued to find out more about my late grandparents and how the events in Singapore during those tumultuous period in history affected them. How did they meet? How did they survived World War 2 in Singapore?

My paternal grandparents. Photo taken during the mid-70s in Malaysia.

Acrostic 9

I wish you told me from the start

That you were going to break my heart

Haunted by the past unfold

Useless memories left untold

Right across the table, drawn to lust

To a dream world, turned to dust

Silence is my last parting gift

Subconscious imaginings (Personal musings 1)

I used to frequently doodle when I was a student, especially like the ones in the photo here. I completely stopped doodling during most of my adult life. I was too busy for it I guess. Lately I’ve been doing a lot of personal reflection and in the midst of it, I started doodling again. I don’t really know the origins of how this particular doodle design came about, but I did remember dreaming about this when I was a child. I would only doodle this particular imagery. It’s really weird come to think of it. Nonetheless, it felt therapeutic.