What I Believe.

I believe He is Merciful.

I believe that He will have his own ways to punish the ones among us who ignored his teachings and commands. I believe that if He wants to, the punishment can come down upon us in this world, and not after death.

I believe in human's rights. Which encompasses men, women, transgender, children, heterosexuals, bisexuals, homosexuals, asexuals and so on. I believe that we have the right to live our life the way we want to, provided we do not put harm on others.

I believe that being a certain orientation does not give me a golden ticket to heaven. Nor does being another orientation means a ticket to hell. I believe where we'll end up is decided by so many other factors. Remember the tale of the prostitute who ended up to heaven because she decided to give a thirsty dog some water? Who would have guesed.

Hudud, is a subject that brings out a lot in people.

Some get all holier-than-thou. Some feel vindictive. Some ignores it. And some, feel conflicted and ridiculed by the holier than thou ones.

Apparently, when your opinion is less favourable you'll get called a heretic.

Is it wrong to think that instead of stoning gay people to death, we should be understanding and fair? We can deal with it in two ways. Either we let them be, for He is the rightful one to punish them, not us. Or we can be understanding, acceptable and not tell them that the fire of hell is waiting for them. After all, you get more flies with honey than vinegar, right?

He is Merciful.
He is Fair.
He is Forgiving.

I believe.

What I Learned as a Trainee.

1. The moment I'm in a meeting, my body decides to check if its yawn function is still working. And it will test it out on "Tears in eyes" mode, numerous times. As long as the meeting is going on.

2. I rather come in before office hours, than going home way after office hours.

3. About lunch;

i)You'll eventually get fed up by the choice of food around you.

ii)You'll then realise that suddenly those mixed rice dishes will look yummy when you bring your own lunch.

iii)And when you decide to buy, your tongue will hate you because those dishes aren't that yummy.

4. Taking the longer walk to get to train A rather than taking train B to get to train A, will seem financially appealing after the first week.

5. It will rain heavily, when you decided to leave your umbrella at home.

6. Wearing sport shoes to wear for the commute will make your feet love you, but your outfit will hate those shoes.

7. You're so capable of taking two days to read a 50 page manual.

8. You're also capable of staring at a page for 15 minutes without taking another in, and you don't realise you're doing it.

9. Handbag? What handbag? I'll just bring a bagpack, and stuff everything in it.

10. Answering phones for the guy in front of you, who decided to take a smoking break, has never been scarier. Especially if its a customer on the other end.

11. Earphones. A must. Wear just one side.

12. Coffee, another must.

13. The office's cafeteria will be empty the week after payday, and full few days before or when its raining cats and dogs outside.

14. You either love making tables on Excel for no reason, or you wish death upon the person who created Excel.

15. You so get how the guy who coined the TGIF phrase was feeling.

16. You'll discover if you make friends for the sake of companionship, or friendship.

17. Women your mother's age, wants you to call them "Kak," (Older sister).

18. Sometimes, sleep is more important than eating during lunch.

19. Office politics? Stay away from me, please. I'm just a trainee.

20. Snacks. Snacks everywhere.

21. Keep a water bottle on your table. And some biscuits in the drawer. And an extra pair of shoes under the table. You might need them one day.

22. Some people are just that hostile. Don't take it personally.

23. Friday, is the least productive day of the week. Monday, the day with the highest rate of MCs.

24. Its the unexpected people who remember you few months later.

25. The last 30 minutes of the day, feels like an hour. Double that on Friday.

26. Some people, have perfected the art of acting productive. While reading the gossip section online.

27. Smile, to everyone. Who knows, that guy might just be the CEO.

28.When you're a permanent staff, you won't ignore the intern/trainee when you're giving out snacks or going out for lunch.

The Effects of Project Runway.

Things that people find suprising about me:

1. I adore Project Runway

2. I adore tv shows about women trying to find the perfect wedding dress.

3. I have a folder in my gallery full of pictures of wedding dresses.

4. I know there is a collection of wedding dresses inspired by Disney princesses.

Which is why when Mama came home last Sunday from the fabric store with these lovely fabrics for me; I went a bit crazy and chose the mustard and red.

I browsed Pinterest, searching for:

Muslimah fashion. Muslimah dresses. Muslimah fashionista

So many ideas.

I ignored that those clothes were modelled on women who only weigh half of what I do.

I remembered that I took a picture of a dress I saw in December. It was a combination of two things I adore: Mustard yellow and trench coat.

                       


But the store that made it only caters to non plus sizes, and said:

"We only have up till L"

In a snotty voice. While looking down their noses at me.

So I wondered if the fabric Mama bought would do, but I doubt so. I then opened my book and sketched how a dress can adapt trench coat-ness:

The collar. The two rows of buttons, tartan patterned in brown and beige.

I remembered the red fabric. Should I make it into another dress, or a baju kurung. Especially cause I just bought a royal purple A-line dress with pink white laces on the sleeves and plan to get another dress made from nude coloured fabric with some intricate designs on the sleeves and hem.

And then I started to think how to make the red outfit less plain. Laces. But not in the way they are used in dresses these days: Sleeves, hems and waistlines.

What if I trim the collar with lace, and then let the lace go down the line where buttons usually are and let it end in an arc around the waist?

White lace.

Shawls. What would match such redness. And such mustardness. Colour blocks.


GOD.

What is happening to me?

Ten Trials of Hanis.

Of course, the post's title is a  play on the famous Twelve Trials of Hercules.

Phase One
When: Window shopping for flight tickets.

1) Expensive tickets should equal to less time spent in transit, right? No. Apart from Turkish Airways and MAS, everyone else have to go to transit. And when they say transit, the average is 10 hours, each way.

2) Finding the perfect tickets aka Etihad with the lowest amount of transit (3 hours and 7 hours) for our proposed date. Mid October. But then, disaster struck, every Monday the price increased. From RM2059, it went up to RM2558. What to do, apart from pushing the trip back 2 weeks to get the cheaper price.


Phase Two
When: Buying tickets

3) Choosing the perfect seats. Perfect my foot. All I know is that I'm a frequent bathroom user. But sitting too close is not too appealing. 20 minutes of Google and hmm haw in front of a screen.

4) Done key-in and about to put in card details when I realised that the airline only accept credit card. Card I own with the limit more than total price? Debit card.

5) Daily limit on amount transferred from bank account to Paypal. Very nice lady at call centre tells me that I can top up(no fee) and send amount(fee) and both have different limits. Huzzah.

6) Try to pay. Paypal would not process payment. 9 minutes on the phone with Paypal guy (I swear he sounds European) with 5 being on hold. I listened to Boyzone's No Matter What twice. The guy is a saviour. Huzzah.

Phase Three
When: Booking the accomodation

7)A misunderstanding of prices. 

8)As prepayment is 25%, I decided to pay it all first, then friend can pay me back later. I went and withdraw money from my travel fund account, deposit into my debit card account and transfer to my Paypal. 

Before finding out since it involves another currency it would not take from my Paypal balance and instead, take straight from my debit card.

9) Tried transferring back money, found out it takes days and a fee. And my name on Paypal should be the same as my bank account. Guess who decided to register on Paypal using a short version of their long name? Me. And to change it, requires me faxing, not emailing certain documents.

10) Withdraw more money the next day, deposit into debit card. Tried making payment via paypal. Message: Your card has been declined by card issuer. Emailed card issuer. Received reply for message sent last week.

Called in, was told my card has been blocked. For god knows why. Had a report send it, told to wait for 15 mins. Finally, payment. Huzzah.

But the good thing is that I finally have made the arrangements needed for this trip.

Tickets. Accomodation. Now, all I need to do is:

1. Check if need vaccination
2. Check if need winter coat in November and if yes, if I can rent/borrow.
3. Research where to go. What to do. (Hamam aka Turkish bathhouse, here I come)
4. Check exchange rate history.
5. Travel insurance.
6. Medical insurance coverage.
7. Consulate or embassy for Malaysia.
8. Make a list of clothes to buy.
9. Save up for shopping money.

I actually enjoy doing all of this.

Confession No. 64

It was a year ago

that my heart fell out of its shelf

splattering onto my lap

dripping my dreams and wishes

soaking into the rough fabric

as my heart flutters against my fingertips.

Needed: Someone Who Knows.

I disappear again, but here I am, with a plea.

Well.

I'm planning to go to Istanbul in November. Early November because my initial plan of doing it mid October is spoiled by the increase of ticket's price and the more expensive accommodations.

But by delaying the trip for two weeks, I'll be able to save around 700 ringgit. Provided that I buy the tickets this week, in fear of those increasing as well.

So.

Based on my research, it would be cold-ish and rain-ish. But there are different opinions on the number of tourists by then. Some say it would be less, some say it would still be the same as the months before.

And being the control freak, I just love researching every single detail and planning it out.

Which is why I'm making a plea here.

If anyone reading this lives in Istanbul/Turkey or have been there or know anyone else who lives/has been there, do contact me via comments or hanis-is-gorgeous@hotmail.com

No, I'm not asking to be given free boarding. 

I think it would be easier if I can ask few people directly the questions regarding this upcoming trip rather than just relying it on Google.

Thank you.

Meaning of a Name.

Hanis the devout.

I grew up thinking that was what I should be. For I was told that the meaning of my name is to be devout, in the religious sense.

I waited for the calling, of the moment, or the pull, the urge, desire to reflect the meaning of my name.

But it never came. I tried to be. I failed.

But then, one day I decided to google the meaning of my name.

And oh what a difference two simple letters can make.



Hanisah the devout.

Hanis.

Hanis the.

Hanis the brave.



Now, doesn't that seem more suitable with me?

Oh Memory, Why Do You Torture Me So?

I've been blessed with amazing memory, that works in unique ways. No, I don't memorise or remember everything, but some things stand out.

I can remember the first time I talked to Eli, back in 2000. It was near the canteen, on these odd stone chairs during lunch.

The time I got a temporary glittery tattoo on my arm. In secret.

The last day at National Service.

That first night in college.

The first time I talked to Mamon, front row in a class in CS2.

That time a group of us watched UP during Ramadhan, before having iftar together eating otak otak (fish wrapped in leaves and grilled on charcoal).

The panic that buried itself in me the day before my Survival Modelling final. And the way I cried in the shower and on the phone to Mama because of that. (Got an A- for it, overreaction much?)

Coffee date.

You see how I tend to remember experiences, more than what I've read.

Its an interesting parlour trick to wow your friends and family. But there is a dark side to it, as usual.

Like the fact that I remember in 6 days, it will be a year I found myself talking to you and god, falling down into that pit full of snakes, that sparkled with promise from the top.

And all the other things that I realise, would make me seem creepy if I were to share it here.

Perhaps, to celebrate a year after sipping on perfection I shall arrange everything to how it was, a tremble in the air as I wait. Perhaps. Maybe. Possible.

25th Feb.

It is funny how life works. You have no clue what you want to do with it. But the moment you have settled for something, inspiration comes. 

And you think; This is what I want to do. 

24th Feb.

I have not neglected this outlet. I have just been busy; More like tired. Typing via a smartphone is not really fun, unless you already have the whole set of words in your mind. Every time I get a laptop in front of me, all my mind is telling me to do is to open a tab for 9gag, and another for Wikipedia.



I'm aware it has been more than a month since my last post. Ages since my last reply to comments. No wonder most of you aren't reading this anymore.



I read every new comment. I click the reply button but then, that voice in my mind tells me that a simple short reply would not be enough. And I put it off, telling myself I'll do it later. And as we all know, the thought starts to gather procastination dust.



I get ideas for new posts in my head, but they never come out right. Those creative pieces are done in mere minutes. Something that coffee and a muse can do.



To say how serious my tiredness/laziness has been is that I haven't had like, a proper long conversation with Mokesart for a long time. Weeks I think. He has been very understanding.



If it was me, I would have thought up of dramatic reasons behind this.



Every time I think of something creative to write, I'll be slightly reluctant. 95% chance of it being inspired by a certain person. Of longing. Of need. Of, oh god rejection. I'm not a broken record player, cause each of them reads differently. But between those lines is the same message.



"I hope you'll read this one day."



And there's a 95% chance you won't.



Unless I compile all of them, all of those prose, poetries, words, stories written with the whisper of your name running up my spine and send it to your inbox.



Never.



*a breath*



I wish to write here more often. But what about? Would any of you readers, amazing people, come forward with suggestions?



Would you smack an idea against my head, bring some senses into these fingers?



I need to write.



Or start a food based blog, cause it seems if I'm not cooking, I'm eating.

Confession No.63

are you out there

standing on a balcony

taking another drag 

from that damn nicotine stick

with love on your lips

hate in your eyes

magnified by the artificial rush.

This Bubble.

In this moment

of time

this little bubble

molded to every creases

planes and curves

a ball of pressure

burns as bright as

a nebula

hidden to the naked eye

but the waves

of power radiates in the molecules

of air between us

affecting in the tiniest ways

an osmosis of emotions and cells

the nebula divides unequally

spreading the weight

pulling us down to our knees

as the emotions

fill the space

beyond this bubble.

In All Honesty.

Give me a little ledge of bargain;
Not to plead or beseech.
But to spread out the reasons upon reasons in favour,
And to burn the reasons upon reasons against the thought of me for you.

Wipe the ashes down your skin,
And press the ember upon your soles,
As you watch my little ledge.

Give me a little slice of attention;
Not to feast upon or devour.
But to carefully and slowly spread every inch of time
Over these words that tumbled, escaped and slipped from heart to mouth

Such fragility formed upon cracks in that heart:
The heart that craves a little slice.

Give me a small measure of respect,
Not fake endearment or genuine hatred;
For in all honesty, that is what I need.

20 November 2013

She sashays life

Like a Parisian runway

Toast of the show

In colours of the rainbow

That glitters with confidence

Radiant as the sun. 

Two Thousand Thirteen.

Two thousand thirteen. 

I wish to lay a bouquet of water lilies upon your tombstone. Write a beautiful eulogy that will bring tears to the attendants of your funeral. 

Thank you for the new chapters of my life. I am no longer a student, knee deep in complicated formulas. I am no longer that scared little girl, clinging on to the familiar. If I were to write all the chapters it would be cross genres. 

Thank you for the new relationships. Well, some died. Some grew. And some .. remained frozen in time. I learned that there is no reason to settle for less. To be more open in a friendship. To .. choose which facets of your personality to be shown. 

Thank you for the new self esteem. I have taken steps to improve it. I am more aware of the ways to improve myself. Learned that loving myself, comes first. For the man who does not himself, cannot value others. 

Thank you for the .. sadness. Those moments had taught me so much. 

Two thousand thirteen. 

I hope your successor shall carry on the efforts you made. Be a better year, in so many ways. I shall look back and think of you in fondness. 

Confession No.62

When you realise

Nine months later

That you're back at square one

270 days of

Fooling yourself 

That you have moved on. 

Super Quick Update.

I know the last few things I have posted have all been creative ish. So, in this super quick update, here is what I have been upto:

1. Started my 6 months on the job training at the bank. I am currently in Electronic Banking and been reading manuals since my first day last Monday. And oh, attending meetings. 

2. Wrote a script for a short skit for my soft skills class. Got some compliments for it. 

3. Skyped once with Mokesart. I know, finally. He then said I have an Asian American accent. 

4. Bought shoes. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes. 

5. Become that girl who goes to eat sushi on the weekend. Alone. 

6. Watched Catching Fire. Alone. Awesome. 

7. Wrote so many creative lil poems, some posted here, others are being locked up in my notebook. 

8. Went to this year's Big Bad Wolf Book Sale and bought 21 books. 

9. Talking about books .. I have finished my 97th book for this year. 3 more and I have to save up for that Kindle I promised myself.

Can You See Me?

Can you see me?

Can you see the dark blue of the pashmina around my head? The bright yellow of the bag resting against my hip contrasts against my black abaya. I am a figure leaning against the door of a train coach.

Can you see how my eyes move along the screen of my phone? The words of the e-book has captured me in its magic, despite being surrounded by strangers. It might be rush hour around me, but I'm in Nantucket with Helen and Lucas.

Can you see how my lips sometimes mouth the words to the song I'm listening to? I will lean my head back with eyes closed, softly humming the tune, and sometimes, I will let my mind wander to those hidden thoughts.

Can you see me as I crane my head to check what the next station is? How my nose wrinkles up slightly as my personal bubble is violated, again. The way my body moves slightly as I let out a yearn-filled sigh.

Can you?

Can you see me with me standing in front of you, your name written on my palms? Or will I forever remain at the furthest fringe of your attention?

I Can See You.

I can see you.

I can see you standing in one of those tiny art galleries near my office. In a red t-shirt and cargo shorts. The shadow of a beard, hair curling at the edges with the nicotine scent of your vice. 

I can see you shifting your weight onto your right leg as you look at the paintings in wonder. Interest gleams in those eyes when you see something you like.  You pick it up, those long fingers carefully tracing the edges of colours. 

I can see you turning around to ask the gallery owner if there is more like this. In places like this, you know there will be about 5 different versions of a scene. Your lips break into a wide smile, showing those shiny pearls as the man takes out the paintings. 

I can see you holding yourself back from gathering up the whole collection and running out the door. Your fingers curl into your palms as you lean forward, those eyes taking in every single detail that makes one painting different from the others. 

I can see you smile, nod and say something to the owner. 

I can see you turning to look over your shoulder at me, and ask :

"Do you think this will look good in our bedroom. "

I can.

I can only see you in my mind's eye as I sit at my desk. Only imagining what would never be.

The Pain We Cause.

If we were to feel all the pain

We inflicted on others

Would we walk around

Eyes on the ground

Hearts set in stone

Afraid of the smallest contact

Fearing the possibility

Of that pain?