Ca y est

Ca y est. Il parrait qu'une belle histoire dans ma vie doit se terminer la. Et avec l'arrive d'Eid il Fitr, une autre s'ouvrira.

Comme d'habitude, je gagne en moi la foi d'aborder un sujet complex, et d'essayer a le simplifier-- peut-etre trop.

La Foi. Je m'en fiche des mots qu'on peut ajouter apres ce "grand" et "abstract" nom dans toutes les langues du monde. Je m'en fous des consequences habituelles qui nous mordent la nuit apres la perd d'une foi. Peut-etre, je m'en completement fiche de ce que la foi, elle-meme, veut dire.

Tout ce qui m'interesse, c'est ce que la foi nous exige dans la vie. Combien de temps faut-il qu'on endure pour en prouver?
Parfois je me demande pourquoi les questions les plus simples sont celles qui ont les plus complexes reponses.
Je me demande pourquoi je me pose trop de question, et pas de reponse dans cette poste aujourd'hui.

Minal Aidin wal Faidzin - Mohon Maaf Lahir & Batin.
Nous implorons Allah SWT, pour qu'Il accepte nos jeunes du Ramadhan cette annee.

Et enfin, je vous souhaite une bonne fete d'Eid il Fitr, que la joie et le bonheur soient toujours avec vous.

When the time comes; I won't be ready

College work is piling. I'm starting to see deadline dates as a just cause to enjoy my moment now, and panic later. Even the weather outside is in transition like a lost teenager finding where to belong. A lost me.

I spoke with a friend over MSN and came around talking about how he missed his early teen years. He spoke of how nowadays he has to think 'twice' before acting and calculate the consequences in the future. I guess he was right. I see a crossroad coming my way, and the route I choose then, I know will set me into different adventure (i.e. obstacles) in life. Maybe they will have a common destination. Maybe not.

I'm not a good loser, but I know I'm not a worse winner. Next year, I will need to have overcome my fear of entering the world's real game and advance. Thoughts haunt me without structure during the day, as I listen to well-planned ideas and plans for the future, coming from determined souls. A sudden impulse rushed for me to do the same, but an invisible wall stretched as far as my will-- reflecting, and making it sit back down again. To them, I seem to have not a worry in the world. To them, I seem like someone who'd pull the last card out, and ace the round. Inside, I wish to know what that card is.

Have I been too drenched in soft reality, limiting my ambition?

Ramadhan will end in less than a week.
Not surprisingly, it has been my worst since many years.

Blogs (1)

I'm still struggling to find a suitable layout that I can proudly present to this dear blog of mine. I've looked around a couple of blogs to find some inspirations, but oddly enough I haven't been attracted to any particular template design. Simplicity will always be my aim-- as it also is in real life. Afterall, a blog is supposed to reflect its author and express him/her in the best way possible, in the way he/she thinks is best. Currently I am working on the design, and I see myself using a very plain content-based layout to help my writing skills develop over time.

Writing has never been more enjoyable now. I've learnt to develop my own style of writing specifically over the last few months, when I understood that pouring your ideas onto a page involves a certain level of detachment, in order for the readers to extract and fully assimilate the message written. As reserved a person I am, I've realised that through the art of writing, I can master the art of rhetoric. Hence was born my preference of blogging as the medium to share my thoughts, emotions, and activities over-- and published. This can be considered as another attempt of being "recognised" as opposed to writing privately in my personal diary. And for the record, I don't have a diary. I've passed the age range where I tried keeping one and suddenly refused to continue just because my writing doesn't look neat enough, and because I got bored of the smiling glittering princesses on its cover. As with blogging, fonts and templates are easily altered to make variations with only my imagination as limit.

I've really just realised and confessed this to myself today, but I really do enjoy publishing the views I have on random, mundane, and everyday things. Hey-- I've been blogging for almost 3 years now! Although at times, I admit feeling a little uneasy of sending accross too many tips on the way I view things which can more or less reveal who I am, but I also understand that the thrill of knowing that strangers are reading (despite their sentiments on the subject treated) and listening to what I have to say, underlies within. The two goes together hand-in-hand, just like everything else on earth is made to balance...

Je ne vous oublie pas (1)

Listening to: [Je ne vous oublie pas] - Celine Dion
Dans mes absences, parfois, sans doute
J'aurais pu m'éloigner
Comme si j'avais perdu ma route
Comme si j'avais changé
Alors j'ai quelques mots tendresse
Juste pour le dire

Je ne vous oublie pas, non, jamais
Vous êtes au creux de moi
Dans ma vie, dans tout ce que je fais
Mes premiers amours
Mes premiers rêves sont venus avec vous
C'est notre histoire à nous

Je ne vous oublie pas...

I came around a friend's skyblog and read the lyrics of this song, in which, I find, has many "similarities" to my life since the time I began remembering. If I'm not mistaken, Celine decided to sing this song particularly in French to remind the "vous" here being the Francophone public, specifically in Canada, to show that she hasn't forgotten them despite her great success as an international singer. I haven't succeeded, neither am I sure that I'm heading the right way, but the feeling of leaving people back home that you know, made you who you are today, always gives you that extra push to grasp what you came here for, and to hold on just long enough so that the hold itself, becomes a strength.

18/11/05

I got my first assignment grade which lit up the whole of my day yesterday. Moreover when the professor kept criticising the class' poor work for more than half an hour... ffiuh, the hard work proved to pay-off (even though it was made a day before- nevertheless I adopted the sleep-wake-sleep-wake method to refresh myself and kept massacring the content and being a pain to myself ). All that for only 5% of final grade ^ ^;

The most -I'd say- interesting subject this semester would be Geopolitics. Geography and Politics, two things of which I couldn't know less about ;p My point being, I was pretty intrigued by the global picture I amazingly saw during class. Mainly because there is no "real" peace and humankind would never let peace rule earth, under any circumstances. Even during the very first class, I was forced to see my, and many petits to grands enfants everywhere around the world, the ideal world shatter before me...

Anyhow, I was over-excited yesterday when I got a reply sms from my best bud in SA. It was at the end of break and the professor kept eyeing my broad smile suspiciously as he came back in- hehe.
Whooa it's gonna be a year soon, hein... how time flies.

Lousy "esprit"

I had a scraped spirit, forcing its way out into a foreign circle. I felt the wall separating. I felt it, has it ever been more real now that it's tangible? I didn't know where I was going, my mind wasn't focused on anything.
I hated the feeling, mainly because I didn't know why the feeling appears more and more.
I hated to talk about it, because I know people would try to identify the source of my disappointment, and surely make their judgments based on stupid non-verbal "hints."
I hated the every "Miaa whats uup?" thrown at me, because my lips wouldn't be synchronised with my two eyes as I make the lie.

I sat myself in the middle of micro class, ignoring the "friends" I casually chat and "kissed" before class, only to stupidly obey the French "social rules." When I got to the classroom it was rather crowded, and all I wanted was to sit down and have a calm lesson. That was before the; "eh oh, Miaa pourquoi tu te mets tout devant? Tu veux pas t'asseoir a cote de moi?" and the real answer would be NO. Then as I've predicted the seat beside me also got taken apparently because the professor's French accented English was so horrible that suddenly nobody knew how to write in English (i.e. copy notes). And then I heard another buzzing sound from behind (same person) and the person beside me simply answered; "ouais, j'ai une 'partner' en micro."

I turned myself and simply said, "il y a plus de places, je ferais mieux de me mettre la."
The truth is that I didn't want to betray myself and prove that the day hasn't been okay. Hell the week hasn't been okay. I'm losing ground. And its because of many things, that they simply cancel each other out.

At the end of the day, I'm back to square one.

Reaction to Urban Violence

The surge of violence in neighborhoods has always existed, yet people still give minimum attention to the issue. At the rare occasions of hearing or reading such issues, we tend to ignore, if not forget, by storing them at the very back of our minds, hoping we would never find ourselves near any such situation. Only when we are concerned, will we be forced to face and thus have some kind of reaction towards the issue. Individualism, a common phenomenon in metropolitan cities.

It was still in the early evening when I headed down to one of Paris' subway station in the busy 16th arrondissement. As I walked, I was distracted by a wailing sound from an old, homeless man--beaten up, on the floor with blood trickling down his right temple. Beside him, faced-up, was a cardboard cut-out, which had supposedly serve to draw pity from the passing people, with the starting words of "j'ai faim."

Despite his frail state, he continued to curse and mumble words of fury to three distancing well-built males, who, when not laughing, would toss about coins in deliberately mocking manners. And people passed on by.
The old man's coin tin rolled down meters away from him. Empty.

The heart-aching thing about the scene was the few passing pair of legs who hurried from one building to the next, as if hurrying to the finishing line of one competition, paying no more than looks of disgusts on their faces. If life is regarded as a competition, then would death be the finishing line? Would it only be at the near end of our lives that we stop competing against each other and prove ourselves superior?

The problem about this issue, like any alike, is that when people hear about it once or twice, they'll remember to be more prudent--for their sake. When people hear about it often, they would thus become numb. In essence, we should all become more aware of things happening around us, and use that advantage for as many people possible. One simple urgent call could save the life of the victim(s). Remember to think that the old man would do it for you if the situation had been given the chance to reverse itself. If not, at least you'd know that he wouldn't have the energy to hurry from one building to the next.


*No, this isn't real. Its for the sake of literary imagery ;)

Emails: Check them before you leave!

Yesterday, a strike took place (yes, bienvenue en France). And as far as it concerned me, this interfered with my way to and back from school. They wanted a raise (who doesn't), because their money's real value is decreasing despite the slow rate of inflation in the country (and they complain? ckck..). Well, at least that's one of the reasons they decided to sulk and make everyone's life less easy for a day- even for those who have cars since they all decided to crowd the city more than ever yesterday ;p

I had the idea of walking to school, since the other options (bus and taxi were either risky because I could end up at school only after Autumn, or because I always get intimidated by streets I don't recognise) were out of the question. But I was feeling lucky and decided to try my chances with the metro. I arrived at 8, and remember thinking, "not bad at all"- despite having been squashed in the over-loaded trains ^ ^;

At 8.35, the professor hadn't come! And I was tired of waiting so I had the brightest idea of calling a friend I knew who was suppose to take the course with me. And, yes you guessed it, French had been cancelled!
I came down to the secretary and asked politely if it was true. She then said yes- and promised that she has sent an email to all that are concerned and a notice was also up on the student board. Now this politeness of me came out with, "I checked my email before I left and I never got yours."

Maybe it's for the fact that she's Spanish, but she didn't look all that friendly after my reply.
I wonder why? :D huehuehe kidding.

Turned out that she sent it to my gmail.
Okaaay, my fault for not having checked that one, but I could've sworn I wrote my hotmail address for pedagogic notices, and gmail for administrative because they are always more boring ;p
Right, I guess they decided that this is more of an "administrative" issue -_-

Just for the record, I wasn't the only student that got befuddled ;p
Oh- wouldn't that have looked horrible great ^ ^;