Virtual Reality - The Great Escape!

Its almost 4 am and I'm still awake. The house is quiet, except for the whisperings of the television with no audience. What is keeping me up at this ungodly hour? Obsessive worrying over everything and nothing at the same time. Anxiety over things that are beyond my control. The uncertainty of the near future. The stress of not sleeping during the hours when other mortals are walking through the realms of dreams and restful slumber.

This has been a problem that has plagued me since my early 20s. Must've been my lounge singing days, when its a norm to come home from work in the wee hours of the morning, only falling asleep as the sun comes up and waking up just before noon. Surely, after 15 years of hiatus from my singing career, you would think that I would be cured of such a disorder. Apparently, no amount of child rearing years with the many sleep deprived nights could reform me from a night walker into a daylight lover.

When the internet became easily accessible to almost everyone that can afford a modem, I began using the virtual world as a way to pass my sleepless hours. It helped to ease the anxieties of not feeling sleepy when normalcy expects me to be snoring happily next to my also snoring hubby. Of late, I feel there has been a shift of sort. A tilt of balance. I seem to prefer losing myself to the virtual world rather than live my life in reality. What am I running away from now?

Its not difficult to NOT be sucked into this virtual reality world. After all, with just a push of a button, I can delete or undo any mistakes, typos or errors. Unlike real life. Even if I were to be able to forget my mistakes and bad choices, there will always be voices around me, reminding me constantly of all the wrongs I have done. Pretty soon, my future is predicted based on my past mistakes. As the saying goes, "You do many good things, and no one remembers it. But you make one mistake, and everyone remembers it for the rest of their lives." Sheesh!!

In virtual reality, I can also alter the way I choose to appear in my profiles. I can paste my face on photos of stars. I can adopt their looks and yet retain my lil old face. Bliss! Well, as they say, " When there's no hope, denial is all you have." My denial may be thick. But my need to escape my reality is a lot thicker than that.

Its pretty obvious that I am unhappy. I also realize that talking incessantly about my misery will not make me feel any better. Is this entry my way of trying to explain myself? No. I find it hard to believe anyone would be interested to know the whys, whats and hows that's contributing toward my unhappiness. Consider this entry as a channel for venting out my frustrations. Its also another resource for my psychological well-being. Its my little corner of personal space. To be or not to be me. That is my choice. And I have the privilege to change my mind whenever I feel like it.

I consider myself a very sociable person. I like to hang out with my pals and meet new people and make new friends. That's how I am in reality. However, that is not the case recently. I find myself feeling more and more anti-social of sort. Maybe because I don't feel like sharing my misery with others. Maybe I don't want people to see the unhappiness in my eyes. My unhappiness is about me. I have to bid my time to regain my sense of power, belonging, fun and freedom to be true to myself.

Facebook has been my 'home' since 2 years ago. Its a place for me to reconnect with old friends, keep in touch with family and relatives near and far, make new friends, networking for my business and career promotions and have a virtual life. In Fairyland, I can plant flowers and trees and not have them die on me. I can keep a puppy and a kitten and feed them daily without having to smell and clean their poop. I can run a restaurant rather professionally and not have to worry about labor strike. I can send 'luxury' birthday gifts without spending a single cent. I can fish for sympathy when I needed it. I can share my joy and triumphs with friends and receive motivations and cheers from people whom I have never met because they live on the other side of the world. I can block people who annoy me and disappear from those who I never want to meet again.

So, forgive me if I spend more time online and on Facebook than I do in real life. Life is too painful for me now. With a daily dose of ear bashing and emotional abuse, even the strongest warrior will throw herself into a bottomless abyss. This is how I cope. I may be brave. But I am not strong. Forgive me for my weakness. This doesn't happen often. It usually comes in waves. Most of the time, I am fine. But when the tidal wave hits, the only thing I can hang on to is virtual reality. And for this, I pray fervently that my modem never breaks down or gets hit by lightning.

It only takes one moment of weakness to destroy you for life. So...

The Sparkle That Was Raya...

The year was 1975. I was 10 years old while my two younger brothers were aged 8 and 1. We were living in Jalan Maarof, Bangsar Park. It was a the eve of Eidil Fitri. The house was a buzz with activities: frantic last minute spring cleaning, putting up the new curtains for the living room, ketupat making and rendang cooking in the kitchen. Mom would be making last minute fittings for the dress she had sewn for me to wear on Raya morning. Dad would be in the back yard, supervising my brothers playing with sparklers. I would join them whenever I could, between helping my mom with all that needed to get done before the crack of dawn.

The sparklers. They bring to mind many memories of my childhood years. They were magical in my eyes. Inspiring awe in me. My brother, Eri and I would spell out our name with the sparklers. Dad would also have those that would shoot little balls of colored flame with parachutes attached to them. He would shoot them skyward and we would watch them come down with our mouths open in amazement. Nahar would shriek with excitement at the wonder of it all. Although far from being storybook perfect, it had its moments that always conjures up happiness and smiles on my face. Nostalgia...

My eyesight is blurring now. Tears of sadness and melancholy. Missing those tiny bits of happy moments. I was 10 then. Now, I'm 44. Raya for 2009 is a few days away but the atmosphere at home is far from what it was back in 1975. No new curtains to hang. No ketupat or rendang to cook. Maybe some last minute frantic spring cleaning. But it has definitely lost its sparkle.

I miss my childhood when things were simpler then. I may have not had autonomy that I have now, but at least I had an illusion of happiness. Oh my poor heart. I can literally feel it breaking. I grieve for the lost joy of Raya. It has never been the same since. It never will be 1975 ever again. I grieve. I grieve.

Little Orphan Spiky

About a week ago, just as my daughters and I were about to enter our front door with both arms laden with grocery shopping bags, we heard a frantic mewing of a kitten. Quickly, we scanned the surrounding area, only to land our eyes on a little white furry ball, teetering around aimlessly. Lissa immediately went to retrieve the abandoned kitten and took it in. After giving it a good bath and feeding it warm milk, we found that it had cat flu and we took it to the vet on the very next day. When the vet told us that the kitten is a male, we changed its name from Vanilla to Spike. Seven days later, this name has evolved to Spiky.

The last time our house had a feline member of the family, it was also a white tomcat named Salty. He was borne in our house by his mother Bubbles; and he lived with us to his final breath in May 2006. It broke my heart when Salty died. He tried very hard to hang on to us, although his body was already ravaged by illness. I spoke my last words to Salty, telling him how much we love him and that its okay for him to let go. That he will always be in our hearts. Those were my last words to him. And then he died, as if he had gotten the permission he needed to leave us for heaven.

I cried for months. I grieved for years, not wanting to replace Salty with another cat. After a few years had passed, my daughter, Lissa, began begging me for a pet to love and care for. A kitten. And although I said no, I know she quietly prayed for it. Her prayer was answered when Spiky mewed his way into our front door and into our hearts.

Spiky is such a playful and loving kitten. He spends his days and nights eating, drinking milk out of a bottle, playing and romping around, exploring all the dusty nooks and crannies in the house, and sleeping in the crook of our arms, snuggling for warmth and a sense of belonging.



I love to watch Spiky sleep. Sometimes, I'd catch him in deep sleep, jerking his head now and then, probably having a little cat dream. But recently, I noticed he seem to burrow his face into the soft blanket swathing him, making suckling noises with his mouth, with his little forearms out and paws kneading, like as if he's dreaming of snuggling and suckling at its mother's teats. It brought tears to my eyes. I wept like a baby, grieving for his loss. He's missing his mommy. I can feel my heart break for him. Poor little baby.

From that moment on, I decided that I am not going to hold back my love for him. Spiky is not Salty's replacement. But I truly believe Spiky is Salty's way of making us open our hearts to loving again. Spiky gave me the courage to let go of my fears. I have nothing to lose by loving Spiky. I have Spiky's adoring love.

Spiky entered our lives on a Thursday, in the month of Ramadhan. I believe Spiky is Allah's blessing on us.



Not forgetting all the other feline family members of ours, I'd like to take a moment to mention some of their names below:
Scamper
Snowy
Blacky
Ashley
Ginger I
Duchess
Bubbles
Ginger II
Scamper II
Spicy
Sugar
Salty
Coffee
Naboo
Mogwai

We are eternally grateful for the many years of happiness and love they have given to our family. We know they are all in Eden.

I Was A Dancer, Too...

According to stories about my childhood in my father's memoir, I was dancing before I could walk properly. I guess this explains why I've enjoyed dancing from the earliest of my memories. While I was in school, teachers would find me missing from my desk because I would be on the school stage, dancing and jiving to Michael Jackson songs. When I was 16, I was already well trained in traditional Malay dancing that my experience and knowledge was sought after to teach adults to learn Asyik and Zapin.


As I made my way through college, I would participate in every showcase available to fully take advantage of any opportunity to experience the joy of dancing. While studying in Swansea, I took up Modern Jazz dancing to further learn ways to express my emotions through body movements. All these knowledge and training I had gleaned helped make me into a better performer, as I would rigorously learn all the choreography for the songs that I would sing, wanting to synchronize my movements with my back up dancers. Needless to say, Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul were my idols back then.

It makes me swell with pride to see my daughters have taken on the same interest in dancing and music. They are blessed with both talent and grace of movements that reminds me of my youth. My only regret is that my aging body is no longer as agile or nimble as before. I no longer look good in leotards and tights either... Hahahaa..


Regardless, I am glad I had the opportunity to express myself in more than just one medium. Although my body is not able to bend and spin the way it used to, I still remember vividly how beautiful the feeling was to move to the music and let it take over my body. I would lose myself to the music and movement and ceased to exist. What a feeling!

I was a dancer. I used to dance all night. Dance disciplined my body. I miss it. Very much.

Lesson of Ramadhan Nights.

Anyone close to me would know how much I love the holy month of Ramadhan. For others, this month represents bazaar feasts of traditional food and cakes, of breakfast invitations, of charity, of shopping for new Raya clothes. For me, it is a month of contemplation, introspection, self-assessment and evaluation, taming of the lowly desires and progression of the soul.

I may have had the privilege of experiencing Ramadhan for 44 times already. However, I only began appreciating it in too few a times. And each time it arrives, my anticipation and expectation grows with the number of gray hair sprouting out on my crowning glory. Given, it is easier to achieve peace of mind when we are left on our own devise without the temptations and seductive whispers of iblis. But then again, not every day is Ramadhan and Ramadhan does not last the whole of our lives. For as long as we breathe, we will desire. And for as long as we desire, peace of mind is far from reach until the object of our desire is attained. Even that is no guarantee. Such is the nature of desire and avarice.

I came across a quote from an old favorite book of mine entitled Essential Sufism and decided that it describes perfectly the emotions I am experiencing at this moment in time:

"At the beginning I was mistaken in four aspects. I sought to remember God, to know Him, to love Him, and to seek Him. When I had come to the end, I saw that He had remembered me before I remembered Him, that His Knowledge of me had preceded my knowledge of Him, His love toward me had existed before my love to Him, and He had sought me before I sought Him."
- Bayazid Bistami

And I lie to myself everyday, believing I have done enough... Yet, He thinks me as worthy of His love and mercy... There's no bigger blessing than that. Somehow, I feel my utter gratitude is like an insult. I bow in humility. I bow in submission. I bow. I surrender.

I Finally Did IT!!

For those of you who have been following my blog entries over many years, you may be able to recall my blog entry entitled Resilience of the Ice Age Squirrel; how I struggled to keep my courage around me when the obstacles I was facing seemed insurmountable.

Going back to school, paying my own way through university fees while working creatively at earning enough just to keep food on the table and the family afloat was no easy task. Each day I beseeched God for strength and stamina of the soul and mind. He was the only place I lay my head down to cry my heart out and to rest my weary bones. He was the only one who would really hear what was uttered in my heart.

And when I finally succeeded in getting myself qualified to do my Master's Degree, I struggled with my grey matters. I poured out my frustration in my blog entry What's My Name Again?I even questioned my decision to further my studies in the ensuing entry entitled As Time Goes By.

During my academic journey, i discovered a few things about myself which was very enlightening and became my north star and this was mentioned in To Be The Best.

2008 began with the passing of my soul brother. I spent the whole year and a month just struggling to overcome grief. The worst crunch inspired me to write Along The Way.Tears of grief streamed like a river in the rain. Visible but ignored.

When I could apply my knowledge in my healing process, I shared it with my readers in Goodbye 2008. But even that wasn't a sure thing. Early 2009, I found myself still struggling with the loss of Mad in my life. I guess knowledge I had was not enough to heal myself. I knew I needed to keep on going. And I did. Until I found a book that was like light at the end of the tunnel. Doing What I Can Do was the entry I wrote to share the knowledge I learned from a book that my mom bought for me as a birthday gift. Alhamdulillah, through that book, Allah guided me back to emotional balance and psychological stability. I really thought I was gonna lose it.

Today was my graduation day. I finally made it! Walking up on stage to receive my scroll with my family watching in the audience was the biggest moment of my entire life. 30 years ago, I would never envisioned myself being a University graduate. Now I am a Masters degree holder. And no one can take that away from me. I have finally become ME. I am ready to move on and soar to the sky... embracing the limitless....

It's Happening....

Ok! I'm sorry I have not been blogging for a few weeks already. But the above is my reason. Yes. I have been busy with work. But I have also been busy doing what gives me joy... singing!

This weekend will be my second consecutive weekend stint at Delucca. Its such a pleasure to perform with talented musicians like Zailan Razak, John Sani, Gigi and Gman. Nope. This wondrous thing has not hit home yet for me. I'm still in a denial of sort. Kinda like an out-of-body experience. Am I happy? Yes. Am I joyful? You betcha!

Gotta keep this entry short. Have loads of lyrics to memorize... again. I am back... to stay!! Alhamdulillah...