Doppelganger.
today i feel like whining.
anyway I watched a recent episode of HIMYM where it was said that we're actually our own Doppelgangers. and supposedly we're not the same person as the ones we were 5 years ago. well, maybe.
Doppelgangers aside.
you know I can be too idealistic when it comes to the issue of making a difference and giving inspiration. but at the same time i believe that sometimes a simple, random act can make a huge difference, even a life-changing one.
i say that because i know of a few people who gave my life a turn by random chances. like the one who i passed by the corridor 11 years ago and told me that she thought i could speak. and a lady who asked me if I read the Quran, whose family now became close not only to me, but also my friends. and a few more.
i secretly smile when i see people doing the things i started doing. (excuse me for my love for myself, LOL). be it the way i wear my headscarf, my clothes, the places i go, the things i do... sometimes it feels good to be a trend-setter (again, excuse the self-appraisal), yet there are times when i realize that if there are eyes watching, and people following.. in a way, whatever they do (however remotely related to me) becomes my responsibility. and i hope that thought will help me change for the better.
anyway, back to the Doppelganger.
as much as i like the idea of inspiring people.. i despise copycats. if you're reading, stay away from the people i love. do whatever you want, i wouldn't take any credit. just go and get your own person(s). don't take mine!
ta.
indifference.
six years is a long time; long enough to get to know a stranger, become friends, fall in and out of love, and love grows to hate, and eventually you lose all of the aforementioned feeling altogether.
some people say when we hate, we still care.
some say that the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. then some also say that the opposite of hate is also indifference.
if that's true, then i am a very bad friend.
good and great teachers.
i don't see myself as a teacher (not yet?). i am only a person who thinks that she can teach.
after all, to date i have only one student on my hands. but she's already a handful.
after more than two months, suddenly she told me that she wanted a test. i thought, yea why not? all these while i've been teaching in a very casual atmosphere, mainly helping her with her homework and school assignments. i didn't really set a target, as in how much i want her to know by the end of this. after all, it is an evening school.. at the most unproductive hour of the day, when the brain is pretty much hypoxic, especially for two girls (her and myself) who i can say have a very limited span of concentration.
"я хочу свою знанию проверять". - i want to test my knowledge, she said.
ok, she got me at that. so we agreed on Tenses - the Present, Past and Future.
if you're following me on twitter you'd know how excited and anxious i am about the test.
now (i think) i know how teachers feel prior to a test or examination. what sort of questions do i ask? do i make it hard for her, or do i make sure she aces it? do i make it exactly as i those which we did together in class or do i stir in a twist? how many questions? do i ask her to underline, or circle, or write?
cut me some slack for being a noob. LOL.
i finally made the test exactly like the exercises we did in class, only changing a few verbs and nouns here and there.
yesterday was the D-day. gave her the questions, explained what to do and she answered them.
boy was she in a hurry to finish them all!
"не спеши!" - don't hurry, i told her as i noticed that she already made a few mistakes.
after she finished answering (it took her about 20mins, whereas i expected at least 30-40 mins), i asked her if she wanted to check her answers once again, to which she refused.
ok fineee.
i think teachers know how much their students know. i know that she knows. if done properly, she would've aced it.
so i asked her, what mark did she think i should give.
"двойка." - two (in Russian marking , you'll need at least a 3 to pass). told me that in school, if she makes 3 mistakes, it meant that she had flunked the test.
"это не двойка. я поставлю тебе тройку" - this isn't a two. i'm gonna give you a 3.
but that's a lot of mistakes!
i tried telling her that it's okay to make mistakes in a test, because sometimes it makes you remember better. not sure if she understood the concept.
honestly, she didn't flunk it. of course there were mistakes here and there but some answers were good.
her only problem is that she rarely takes any time to think. i told her that. and guess what her response was? she told me that she always choose guessing over thinking. if there's an MCQ question, she'd circle the answers just like that, and according to her, that way she usually gets 50% correct.
oh man. how do i make her understand? i have no idea.
yesterday i finally understood what people mean when they say that teaching and educating are two different things.
teachers teach. good teachers not only teach, they educate. and great teachers, on top of that, inspire.
and this little low me is still trying to figure out how in the world can i be all of the above.
Happy Teachers Day in advance, to great teachers who inspired me. i can never thank you enough!
crushes of motivation.
one Thursday evening, over tea and biscuits after our tuition, my student Dasha asked me:
"Aini, can you come to school tomorrow?" (our sessions are scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursday weekly)
"no I can't. I had something planned. why?"
"i want to come to school tomorrow. so i have to find something to learn, and someone to learn from."
"you like learning that much, huh?" (seriously i was getting a bit impressed :P)
"haha. not really. i do like learning, but actually "someone" will be in school tomorrow. *grin*"
"ahaaa... panyatna! i understand. motivation, right? i was like you when i was in school. *grin*."
so since i wasn't free on Friday, she went and asked Katya, our administrator.
"Katya, can you help me with my biology homework tomorrow? i need to look something up on the internet"
"well I'm free now. let's do it today"
"no, I can't do it today.. I.. er.. I forgot my textbook! so can you help me tomorrow?"
******
LOL. yeah. a girl's gotta do what she gotta do. i think we girls would understand, the length we'd go for our crushes. and sometimes, we get something out of it. like some educational stuffs from school for example :D
a bit of motivation can do good!
not that i'm having any at the moment.
so...yawn.
goodnite then. ta!
Happy Earth Day, Earthlings!
Buds of Spring.
Thursday, April 22nd 2010. 15:30-ish
cool, damp, gloomy Russian spring afternoon.
took these fotos along Ostravityanova Street. opted to go home on foot instead of taking the bus,just to enjoy these buds!
hope it translates in the photos! :)
Happy Earth Day, Earthlings!
:)
stranger.
the Moscow Metro can be a very predictable place. you know that when you go to a certain station at a particular time, there be a "traffic jam" just to get on the escalator. or you know exactly where to stand on the platform before you embark a particular wagon (head/middle/tail) so that you will disembark at the destination at the very precise spot, i.e. closest to the stairs for the line change.
Muscovites would be able to fathom what i was saying in the previous paragraph, but for the others, i know, it's complicated. hehe. anyway, point is, it's very reliable, punctual.. and other than suicide bombings (i know, stale news) it's pretty much predictable.
but then, the people who ride the metro are not. Moscow Metro can take up to 10million people a day, and each commuter are different, to say the least.
for example, one day i was shown the middle finger by a man, and the other, surprise, surprise... i was given a rose.
LOL. so much for a self-esteem booster for lil' low me.
ok fineeee. cut me some slack. i know i'm not the kind of girl people would fall in love at first sight. or the kind who people actually take a second look at when they pass me by. like, seriously, i have a mirror, and my phone's screen protector is reflective so i know very well how do i look like. (LOL). and i can actually count the very few times i was given flowers. (my parents included). so saddd, i know.
so anyway, i was on the trolleybus on my way to the metro station after class when i noticed a man. seemed like he was looking at me. i had my sunglasses on, so i was looking at him looking at me as well. no, not cute. if he was cute i'd tell you straight away. (LOL). was telling myself not to perasan the whole time.
then the bus stopped at the metro, and i took off and walked towards the station, and went to the platform to wait for the train (max waiting time 2:40mins). suddenly the same man approached me and said something like "на памьять/for remembrance" and gave me a rose. (sempat lah pulak kan beli!) GASP. i was like, "eeerrr, thanks". we stood like that for maybe a whole minute then i thought i'd be polite and ask him his name. "Sergey". (nama takleh nak ruski lagi!! kahkah). then the usuals, he asked me where i was from, how long have i been living in Moscow etc.
the train came and i entered the wagon, and he followed. okayy...fine... then he took out his mobile phone and asked me to save my number in his phone. remember my rule #1: never give real number to stranger you meet on a public transportation. so i gave him a fake number!
i knew it was coming: he called the number i gave him! and he was like... "quick, check your phone, i'm calling you now".. i panicked but showed my coolest face and pretended that my phone is lost somewhere in my bulky bag.
and was saved by the bell! the train stopped at a station (albeit halfway through my journey home) so i simply told him that i had to get off the train, and we'd contact each other later (LOL).
okay maybe that's mean of me but then again i just watched The Lovely Bones, and A LOT of CSI. i don't want to be in a missing person's list, or police statistic. these days women and especially girls just can't take chances like these. he might have the purest of intentions, but maybe he hadn't.
this has nothing to do with him not being cute enough. but then again if he's cute enough he wouldn't have to go giving flowers to random girls. random girls would be drooling over him instead!
anyway Sergey, if your intention was good, i pray for the best things going your way. if not, i'm glad that i took off (and pray that we won't meet again!)
ok fine. this post is so vain of me. bagi chan lah pliz!
pitchy monkey.
mungkin sayalah kera sumbang itu.
i am this person: just when someone takes a step closer to me, i would back off ten steps. i am not talking about love, i'm talking about life in general.
i wonder if it's distrust that's making me build these walls. perhaps it is fear of rejection. but if it's fear of acceptance, then i'm more screwed that i think i am.
i don't know if i have always been this way but lately it's becoming more imminent. at times, even the thought of going somewhere with someone gives me the feeling somewhat equal to a burden. like a social responsibility of some sorts.
most times i don't bother asking, out of fear of getting the answer "No". like not asking people out, so that i don't have to hear them say "I made other plans". i no longer look forward when people say "let's do something tomorrow" because i've had my fair shares of "sorry i had to cancel because suddenly i have to go somewhere with so-and-so (<--usually a guy, once it happened when i am already getting dressed)". i even hesitate when making a phone call, in fear of hearing "I can't talk right now". at some point it gets so bad that i think more than ten times before asking to borrow something, just in case that the person would say "sorry, I don't have it".
so i made this cocoon around myself. i'm just tired of putting myself in a position where i'd expect to be treated nicely, or make people feel obliged to treat me nicely.
i am so screwed. but better than a heartache?
i have no idea.
"Я не хочу с ними ехать!" - I don't want to go with them!
two weeks after the Black Monday, i guess it's too soon to assume that things have cooled down.
for the past two weeks, i made a "fashionable" decision to keep the hijab away for a while and surprise, surprise: i missed it. people have always been curious over the fact that how and why our heads don't feel hot when we wear the hijab. get this: caps are much worse. at some point i think my brain went hypoxic.
true, these past couple of weeks i have to admit that i feel more confident wandering around the city, both on the public transport and on foot without the classical hijab. nobody stares, people at shops seems more friendly, the policemen/women pretty much ignores you. (trust me, the militsiya's are EVERYWHERE nowadays. in the metro stations there are even announcements saying that if you see "suspicious" people, you should report it to the police immediately. one day i even saw policemen casually buying Kartoshka with guns hanging from their shoulders)
boy i miss being the attraction! (LOL.)
so today some friends and i decided to go to Arbatskaya for a weekend stroll. i thought yea what's the fuss.. if anything i'm not alone, my friends will be there with me so i thought it'd be okay to wear the hijab. and the hijab, i wore.
i contemplated taking the Red Line at first, but then compared to the Orange Line it is more convenient to get to Arbatskaya from my flat in Konkova so we took the Red Line.
the train stopped at Park Kultury (site of the "Ter-Act", as Russians call it) when a a young lady, and a few others stepped into the wagon. a man suddenly grabbed the girl's hand, pulling her out of the train while shouting:
"я не хочу с ними ехать! я не хочу с ними ехать! я не хочу с ними ехать!"
(I don't want to go with them! I don't want to go with them! I don't want to go with them!)
as if pointing his index finger towards us wasn't enough to show his anger and disgust, he then used his middle finder.
the train door finally shut, but in the loudness of the sound that the train made, i could very well still hear his shouts.
the feeling: indescribably humiliating.
you know, the saddest thing about what happened is that normally you can afford to be angry at people who humiliate you IN PUBLIC. but in this case, you just can't. it doesn't seem quite fair, for some reasons. i am in no way related to the terrorists, but for all I know, that man might've lost someone he loved in the Park Kultury blast. and one thing i know about grievance is that it makes you feel better when you can put a blame on something, or someone.
these days trust is a rare thing. the only mutual thing is fear.
we all have the right to fear. during this hard times, i realized that we can't really blame them for being judgmental and full of suspicion. a day after the blast, i went into the train and saw a Muslim lady, a hijabi to be exact, sitting in the wagon. the seat next to her was ample. i was still wearing my hijab that day. usually here when Muslims see each other we'd at least smile and mouthed the words "assalamualaikum", but guess what. since the incident, the distrust is not only inter-religious, but also interpersonal.
i sat next to the Hijabi. we didn't look at each other directly, but only with the corner of our eyes. i was thinking "what if she has a bomb?" and i think she might have been thinking just exactly the same thing.
what has the world come to?
I can only pray for strength, and endurance. for at least a few more months.
:|
for the past two weeks, i made a "fashionable" decision to keep the hijab away for a while and surprise, surprise: i missed it. people have always been curious over the fact that how and why our heads don't feel hot when we wear the hijab. get this: caps are much worse. at some point i think my brain went hypoxic.
true, these past couple of weeks i have to admit that i feel more confident wandering around the city, both on the public transport and on foot without the classical hijab. nobody stares, people at shops seems more friendly, the policemen/women pretty much ignores you. (trust me, the militsiya's are EVERYWHERE nowadays. in the metro stations there are even announcements saying that if you see "suspicious" people, you should report it to the police immediately. one day i even saw policemen casually buying Kartoshka with guns hanging from their shoulders)
boy i miss being the attraction! (LOL.)
so today some friends and i decided to go to Arbatskaya for a weekend stroll. i thought yea what's the fuss.. if anything i'm not alone, my friends will be there with me so i thought it'd be okay to wear the hijab. and the hijab, i wore.
i contemplated taking the Red Line at first, but then compared to the Orange Line it is more convenient to get to Arbatskaya from my flat in Konkova so we took the Red Line.
the train stopped at Park Kultury (site of the "Ter-Act", as Russians call it) when a a young lady, and a few others stepped into the wagon. a man suddenly grabbed the girl's hand, pulling her out of the train while shouting:
"я не хочу с ними ехать! я не хочу с ними ехать! я не хочу с ними ехать!"
(I don't want to go with them! I don't want to go with them! I don't want to go with them!)
as if pointing his index finger towards us wasn't enough to show his anger and disgust, he then used his middle finder.
the train door finally shut, but in the loudness of the sound that the train made, i could very well still hear his shouts.
the feeling: indescribably humiliating.
you know, the saddest thing about what happened is that normally you can afford to be angry at people who humiliate you IN PUBLIC. but in this case, you just can't. it doesn't seem quite fair, for some reasons. i am in no way related to the terrorists, but for all I know, that man might've lost someone he loved in the Park Kultury blast. and one thing i know about grievance is that it makes you feel better when you can put a blame on something, or someone.
these days trust is a rare thing. the only mutual thing is fear.
we all have the right to fear. during this hard times, i realized that we can't really blame them for being judgmental and full of suspicion. a day after the blast, i went into the train and saw a Muslim lady, a hijabi to be exact, sitting in the wagon. the seat next to her was ample. i was still wearing my hijab that day. usually here when Muslims see each other we'd at least smile and mouthed the words "assalamualaikum", but guess what. since the incident, the distrust is not only inter-religious, but also interpersonal.
i sat next to the Hijabi. we didn't look at each other directly, but only with the corner of our eyes. i was thinking "what if she has a bomb?" and i think she might have been thinking just exactly the same thing.
what has the world come to?
I can only pray for strength, and endurance. for at least a few more months.
:|
define yourself.
i was taught,that when giving an attribute to myself that i have to be a Muslim first, before any other. a Muslim, a Malaysian, a woman, a daughter etc etc.
always, a Muslim first.
easier said than done.
living in Malaysia, where the majority of citizens are (i hope, insyaAllah practicing) Muslims, sometimes one gets too accustomed, comfortable even that at some point religion becomes tradition. when we speak of Ramadhan, we easily think of food bazaars, and Eid becomes a day when culinary skills and fashion sense is most crucial than any other. the hijab becomes a uniform, something you wear to fit into the Malay society. Baju Kurung is worn on a Friday because it is a Friday. i shamefully admit, that i too, am one of those people guilty of the above.
in other sense, as much as we are surrounded by each other, we forget to feel that we are Muslims first.
it was year 2002, when Islamophobia was spreading in our world like a pandemic. i was sent to Germany, and was the only one of two hijabis in the whole group that consisted of various nationalities from Europe, Asia and Africa.
for the first time in my life, I was to embark on a journey that would educate me like no other. for a month, i was a Muslim first, more than i'd ever felt prior to that. in a local newspaper article, the journalist wrote about me, "...als ein muslimisches Mädchen, trägt das Kopftuch." (as a Muslim girl, [she] wears the head scarf). barely sixteen, i didn't quite understand the curiosity and fascination about the piece of cloth covering my head. but people were labeling me, and somehow the label helped me remember who i am and who i should be.
then i began to appreciate the things that are so easily ignored back at home. like scanning through the menu for something i can actually eat. usually they are confined to the appetizers and desserts section. i can recall eating tomato soup for dinner, and eating Apfelstrudel for lunch while Reka, the girl from Hungary was munching on buffalo wings in front of me. and that was when i befriended Sanyukta, a girl from India, who is a vegetarian :)
somehow i think it prepared me for six long years in Russia.
one thing i can say is that, sometimes less is more. during the six (at certain points agonal) years, i find the Ramadhans the most meaningful. i have never felt that way, not in my 17 years before coming to live here in Moscow. food was not the main course, and the relief and serenity is indescribable, when you come to realize that fasting is not about not eating and drinking.
and if Moscow has educated me other than in medical field, then it has certainly taught me to defend my religion to almost everyone i became acquainted with, non-Muslims (and sometimes, sadly) to Muslims alike.
it taught me to wear my religion with pride, hold my head up high, keep cool and put up a straight face when people sneer and jeer.
my hijab defines me as a Muslim, it puts a label on me, it reminds me of who i am and how i should behave.
this is definitely a very hard and emotional decision to make, but due to rising and alarming circumstances in Moscow right now, i decided to lay low and wear a cap and a scarf around my neck instead of a hijab. thanks to God, the weather is still cold and i can cover up as much as i can with this new "style". but i still wear my normal hijab in class, the cap is only for the metro and the streets :)
it doesn't mean i'm defeated, it doesn't mean i give up. i don't know if people actually agree with my decision, but with the little knowledge that i have, i believe that my religion is more flexible than it is confined to just one interpretation. and there are more than one way to cover myself as a woman, one just need to have some creativity.
i am just taking care of myself by avoiding unnecessary attention towards myself, understanding the overwhelming fear that is surrounding us and considering the fact that i am a helpless woman who commute alone daily, sometimes coming home at night. i too, am scared as much as everyone else. perhaps even more.
i dream of the day when i get to wear it again. without fear, with pride.
so help me God.
always, a Muslim first.
easier said than done.
living in Malaysia, where the majority of citizens are (i hope, insyaAllah practicing) Muslims, sometimes one gets too accustomed, comfortable even that at some point religion becomes tradition. when we speak of Ramadhan, we easily think of food bazaars, and Eid becomes a day when culinary skills and fashion sense is most crucial than any other. the hijab becomes a uniform, something you wear to fit into the Malay society. Baju Kurung is worn on a Friday because it is a Friday. i shamefully admit, that i too, am one of those people guilty of the above.
in other sense, as much as we are surrounded by each other, we forget to feel that we are Muslims first.
it was year 2002, when Islamophobia was spreading in our world like a pandemic. i was sent to Germany, and was the only one of two hijabis in the whole group that consisted of various nationalities from Europe, Asia and Africa.
for the first time in my life, I was to embark on a journey that would educate me like no other. for a month, i was a Muslim first, more than i'd ever felt prior to that. in a local newspaper article, the journalist wrote about me, "...als ein muslimisches Mädchen, trägt das Kopftuch." (as a Muslim girl, [she] wears the head scarf). barely sixteen, i didn't quite understand the curiosity and fascination about the piece of cloth covering my head. but people were labeling me, and somehow the label helped me remember who i am and who i should be.
then i began to appreciate the things that are so easily ignored back at home. like scanning through the menu for something i can actually eat. usually they are confined to the appetizers and desserts section. i can recall eating tomato soup for dinner, and eating Apfelstrudel for lunch while Reka, the girl from Hungary was munching on buffalo wings in front of me. and that was when i befriended Sanyukta, a girl from India, who is a vegetarian :)
somehow i think it prepared me for six long years in Russia.
one thing i can say is that, sometimes less is more. during the six (at certain points agonal) years, i find the Ramadhans the most meaningful. i have never felt that way, not in my 17 years before coming to live here in Moscow. food was not the main course, and the relief and serenity is indescribable, when you come to realize that fasting is not about not eating and drinking.
and if Moscow has educated me other than in medical field, then it has certainly taught me to defend my religion to almost everyone i became acquainted with, non-Muslims (and sometimes, sadly) to Muslims alike.
it taught me to wear my religion with pride, hold my head up high, keep cool and put up a straight face when people sneer and jeer.
my hijab defines me as a Muslim, it puts a label on me, it reminds me of who i am and how i should behave.
this is definitely a very hard and emotional decision to make, but due to rising and alarming circumstances in Moscow right now, i decided to lay low and wear a cap and a scarf around my neck instead of a hijab. thanks to God, the weather is still cold and i can cover up as much as i can with this new "style". but i still wear my normal hijab in class, the cap is only for the metro and the streets :)
it doesn't mean i'm defeated, it doesn't mean i give up. i don't know if people actually agree with my decision, but with the little knowledge that i have, i believe that my religion is more flexible than it is confined to just one interpretation. and there are more than one way to cover myself as a woman, one just need to have some creativity.
i am just taking care of myself by avoiding unnecessary attention towards myself, understanding the overwhelming fear that is surrounding us and considering the fact that i am a helpless woman who commute alone daily, sometimes coming home at night. i too, am scared as much as everyone else. perhaps even more.
i dream of the day when i get to wear it again. without fear, with pride.
so help me God.
a woman's worth.
photo from stylecovered.com
it is my will, my choice, my voice.
it does not undermine me, nor does it oppress me.
it makes me stand out, rather than stepped on.
it is not a punishment for being a woman.
my hijab is my honour, my pride, my right.
Happy Women's Day.
know what you're worth!
<3
what is your name?
problems arise when you try to directly translate a word, phrase, or even worse, a sentence.
one of the most fundamental questions we learn when we first become acquainted with a new language is "What is your name?". the Russian equivalent of that question would be "Как Вас зовут?". equivalent in sense, but not really when you try to do a direct translation.
i was teaching Dasha the 5W and 1H of question words when i realize that it's much harder than i have anticipated.
firstly, "Как" (pronounced 'kak') is not "What", but "How". so technically "Как Вас зовут?" pretty much means "How are you called?", rather than "What is your name?". but we don't go around asking people "How are you called?" do we?
oh my God where do i even start to explain?
after much exhalation on my part, and a series of frustrated "Я ничего не понила!" (i don't understand a thing!) from her part, i came up with a conclusion that "What is your name?" is actually "Какая ваша имя?". yea, why didn't i think of that?
now Dasha is a very opinionated girl. she still wanted to stick with her 'How', and wouldn't take my 'What'.
but then again i am after all the teacher. so i veto-ed my way out and we agreed (to disagree?) and she was like "fineeee. you win." LOL
and then the second problem arises.
as in German, French, Arabic and who knows what other languages (except English and Malay, that i know of), Russian nouns have genders. so the table is a 'he', and the lamp is a 'she'.
and it never occurred to me how difficult it is to explain to her that in English, all non-living things, and all animals (except maybe our pets) are "it".
HOMAIGOD.
seriously man. it's very challenging. God knows what tricks i have to pull out of my pocket the next time we meet.
wish me luck!
Twice a week, I am Aini.
i like to think that when we give something to someone, that 'thing' we give was never ours in the first place. that we're just a middle-man of some sorts.
by giving money, we don't become any poorer. that money wasn't ours in the first place. we're only entrusted to hold on to it for a certain period of time, before He brings us to the right place, the right time and the right person to give the money to.
by giving food, we lose our hunger. because food, when shared, tastes better.
sometimes we thought we're only giving, without realizing that we're actually getting so much more.
life is almost never quid pro quo. an eye is usually not for an eye. because God's Fairness doesn't work like that. it's unfathomable by man's sense of equality.
last two weeks, i signed up as a volunteer at a refugee center in Moscow (yup, that's the commitment i was talking about in the previous post). i've always wanted to get involved with humanitarian activities but the procrastinator in me kept hindering me from actually doing it.
then, somehow the spontaneous part of me, driven by severe boredom, made me do it.
i kept telling myself, i should've done this sooner! but then again i'm glad i did it. never too late, right?
so twice a week, i am Aini. i'm currently tutoring English to Dasha, a 14 year old girl from Kyrgyzstan.
it's only been our third session, but i have learnt so, so much.
firstly, teaching is NOT easy. not that i thought it was easy in the first place. i've always known that teaching is not for everyone. one needs talent, passion and perseverance (lots of it!) to be able to do it. it's definitely A LOT harder than i thought! teachers, you're the bomb!!
secondly, even though i am teaching Dasha, she is actually in a way, my teacher. half the time (or make it 3/4 of the time), she's brushing up my Russian. and i can proudly say that since last week, my spoken Russian has improved quite a lot.
and i met so many amazing and inspiring people! people who gives unconditionally, people who devote their time for the benefit of other people without expecting anything in return. people who would do anything for knowledge, people who are in hunger for education.
all in all, it's a motivating atmosphere to be in.
i think i can say that those kids are somehow lucky to be unlucky.
and i thank You for showing me the way to them :)
okay, pen off for now. there are so many things that i want to tell, but let's save it for next time.
wish me luck, people!
:)
first date.
you know that feeling that you feel after a first date (at least one that went and ended well, hehe) ? you're driving in your car and you're smiling all the way home, excited and anxious about what's going to happen next, and once you reach home you take off your shoes and go straight upstairs, lock yourself in the room, lie on the bed and just smile. nothing else matters.
no i did not go on a date today. neither did i drive. instead, i took the subway and the bus. but the feeling is somehow mutual.
no i did not go on a date today. neither did i drive. instead, i took the subway and the bus. but the feeling is somehow mutual.
i signed up for a commitment nevertheless. signed up, literally.
and i'm very very very excited about it. something i've been wanting to do, but never really got around and actually walk my talk. one day my spontaneity was at its peak and just like that, i'm in!
i am dying to let you know about it, but i don't want to jinx it just yet. this will definitely go on the blog soon!
:)
Apfelstrudel, adolescent dreams and a long-lost friend.
yesterday was a very good day! i guess i woke up on the right side of the bed.
it's not everyday (in my case, living away from the comfort of mom's kitchen) that i get to wake up to food on the table. and not just any food, but Apfelstrudel!
then in the afternoon of course, the pancakes on Red Square that i've been craving all week long. plus shopping!
but all in all, the highlight would be later that night when i am pleasantly surprised by a long-lost good friend of nearly ten years. could be a best friend, really, at some point.
it's been what? two years since we last talked? definitely longer. felt like ages. we both agreed on that.
i can never truly explain why the encounter (though on facebook) means so much to me but it really does. it might have something to do with me having difficulty in really connecting with people i'm living with for these past six years. i never thought it would be this hard, you know.
though i agree that he has grown old. but he's been old for a while even before the last time we talked. (if you're reading, i think you need to go easy on yourself once in a while. try to slow down the greying of your hair. seriously. you're not even 30!)
it's good to know that after all these years, people who knew me from back then still regard me as the same Aini Hanan. because as much as i want to change, i still need that very fundamental part of me to be the same.
and the relief! in knowing that i am not alone in this boat; that someone i deem as my role model, or really an elder brother, agreed with me when i say that i don't know what the hell i am doing right now. you know, the whole not-finding-the-passion-yet mess. we both laughed at how naive we were back then, for dreaming all these. yeah, i guess that's how adolescent dreams work. few years later we come to a point where we look back and ask ourselves, "what was i thinking?"
thanks. i need to know that i'm not the only one feeling that. almost gave up. no kidding.
well at least now i know who to talk to in case i have a life-changing decision to make. just like the old times! let's not lose each other's numbers anymore!
yesterday was a blessing. thanks for keeping in touch.
good luck in fatherhood! you'll make a good dad! when your daughter's old enough to understand, let me go and talk to her about how great of a person you are. seriously man.
:)
p.s. and the next time i'm having a sucky birthday i'll have the comfort in knowing that there are thoughtful people at certain parts of the world who actually remembers, but cannot find a way to tell me that they do.
it's not everyday (in my case, living away from the comfort of mom's kitchen) that i get to wake up to food on the table. and not just any food, but Apfelstrudel!
then in the afternoon of course, the pancakes on Red Square that i've been craving all week long. plus shopping!
but all in all, the highlight would be later that night when i am pleasantly surprised by a long-lost good friend of nearly ten years. could be a best friend, really, at some point.
it's been what? two years since we last talked? definitely longer. felt like ages. we both agreed on that.
i can never truly explain why the encounter (though on facebook) means so much to me but it really does. it might have something to do with me having difficulty in really connecting with people i'm living with for these past six years. i never thought it would be this hard, you know.
though i agree that he has grown old. but he's been old for a while even before the last time we talked. (if you're reading, i think you need to go easy on yourself once in a while. try to slow down the greying of your hair. seriously. you're not even 30!)
it's good to know that after all these years, people who knew me from back then still regard me as the same Aini Hanan. because as much as i want to change, i still need that very fundamental part of me to be the same.
and the relief! in knowing that i am not alone in this boat; that someone i deem as my role model, or really an elder brother, agreed with me when i say that i don't know what the hell i am doing right now. you know, the whole not-finding-the-passion-yet mess. we both laughed at how naive we were back then, for dreaming all these. yeah, i guess that's how adolescent dreams work. few years later we come to a point where we look back and ask ourselves, "what was i thinking?"
thanks. i need to know that i'm not the only one feeling that. almost gave up. no kidding.
well at least now i know who to talk to in case i have a life-changing decision to make. just like the old times! let's not lose each other's numbers anymore!
yesterday was a blessing. thanks for keeping in touch.
good luck in fatherhood! you'll make a good dad! when your daughter's old enough to understand, let me go and talk to her about how great of a person you are. seriously man.
:)
p.s. and the next time i'm having a sucky birthday i'll have the comfort in knowing that there are thoughtful people at certain parts of the world who actually remembers, but cannot find a way to tell me that they do.
cold war.
the butterfly effect might sound far-fetched, but it kinda happened. i can tell you the whole chronology, but only to make you yawn.
if you're reading, yeah. i'm writing about you. i hope this would be the last post ever, if you know what i mean. and i think we can all agree that it's a good thing.
so here's the story.
i am not a fan of elevators. i used to get chills. blame it on Sri Terengganu flats in Sentul where a great-aunt lived in the early '90s. i used to dread going there.
then as i grew older, i became acquainted with awkward rides. i hate being in the elevator with one other person, we know each other's names, and that's it. do i start a conversation? if yes, what do i say? do i keep quiet? do i look on the floor or at the door or at the buttons? do i smile? do i pretend i was texting on my phone? seriously, major pressure. i know, tell me why am i making this issue a very complicated one.
living on the 11th floor is not helping. unless i wanna do cardio work, it's a long way up the stairs.
then there's that person i was not on talking terms with, someone i've been trying to make invisible. multiply that pressure a gazillion times.
stupid i know, this whole cold war. and i believe that i'm responsible for the most part. things get too cold that by the time i get tired of it, i have no idea how to undo it.
then came the elevator. damn it, it was the longest ride ever. to cut the story short, i blew up the chance to break the ice.
until a few days ago, a series of events brought us back to that same spot, and the courage felt divine. it wasn't so hard wasn't it?
thanks.
i hope this will be the end of it. i promise.
if you're reading, yeah. i'm writing about you. i hope this would be the last post ever, if you know what i mean. and i think we can all agree that it's a good thing.
so here's the story.
i am not a fan of elevators. i used to get chills. blame it on Sri Terengganu flats in Sentul where a great-aunt lived in the early '90s. i used to dread going there.
then as i grew older, i became acquainted with awkward rides. i hate being in the elevator with one other person, we know each other's names, and that's it. do i start a conversation? if yes, what do i say? do i keep quiet? do i look on the floor or at the door or at the buttons? do i smile? do i pretend i was texting on my phone? seriously, major pressure. i know, tell me why am i making this issue a very complicated one.
living on the 11th floor is not helping. unless i wanna do cardio work, it's a long way up the stairs.
then there's that person i was not on talking terms with, someone i've been trying to make invisible. multiply that pressure a gazillion times.
stupid i know, this whole cold war. and i believe that i'm responsible for the most part. things get too cold that by the time i get tired of it, i have no idea how to undo it.
then came the elevator. damn it, it was the longest ride ever. to cut the story short, i blew up the chance to break the ice.
until a few days ago, a series of events brought us back to that same spot, and the courage felt divine. it wasn't so hard wasn't it?
thanks.
i hope this will be the end of it. i promise.
knee-deep snow.
i love snow when it comes down slowly in big flakes, and it's too cold that the flakes don't melt when they touch the surface of my jacket or even the palm of my hand. and i could see the very tiny details of each flakes. made me walk home instead of taking the bus.
made me think of You, and Your works of art. Thanks for the opportunity. <3
February 10, 2010.
Today's Forecast:
Blowing Snow
Temperature: -12°C
Feels like:-21°Cheaven on earth!
table for one.
in Paris i met a backpacker from Denmark who gets from one place to another by hitchhiking at the highways. when asked about traveling alone, he said something that i cannot agree more with.
he said that by traveling alone, he depends solely on himself, and it's a challenge to keep moving on, to reach the next destination. food and sleeping in comfort is all up to him, and somehow, he finds freedom in that. he gets lonely sometimes but along the way he met some great people and it's all worth it.
as for me, i don't know since when did i start to enjoy being alone. i feel free, i'm curious, i'm excited and i get this sense of accomplishment at times. like i've discovered things about myself that i never knew existed and things that i never knew i was capable of. sometimes i feel proud, and if i could i would tell the world, "look, i did this all by myself".
don't get me wrong, being alone is in no way equal to being lonely.
sometimes you're in a place full of people, most of them people that you know, yet you still feel hollow. or you could be sitting at a cafe, sipping coffee alone but still feel complete.
i know the feeling of both.
you know, although i love the freedom of doing things at my own terms but sometimes, it feels good to ask for permissions, or at least tell someone where i'm going or what i'm up to. it makes me feel as though somebody actually cares. which explains why on certain occasions i ask my mom who's halfway around the world to wake me up in the morning although i could've easily use an alarm clock.
i'm surprised that yesterday i cried at the gates of the airport while waiting to board my flight. i don't know why but i couldn't help it. i guess i was trying to find a reason to come back, and couldn't think of a good one, other than the obvious.
i think being lonely isn't about going out alone, but it is actually when you come home and nobody even realize that you were away the whole time. that's just heartbreaking. sometimes you wonder how much time it would take for people to start looking for you when you went missing.
well i tried going missing once in November, and at 8pm i got a text from a friend, asking where i was. i guess i wasn't lonely after all.
thanks for asking.
new look, hopefully not the same old stuffs.
well i thought i'm just gonna disappear from blogger but i never would've expected to have people ask me what happened to my blog. didn't think that what i write (which most of the times are just my random whinings) matter that much to people.
a friend gave me a diary for my birthday and i was a bit carried away with writing on paper. but then it's different when you're writing for yourself compared to writing for sharing with people. so i'm just gonna keep doing both.
the thing is for the past month i didn't update my blog all that much, and the spam comments keep on coming and later on i guess my blog was hacked or something. fortunately all my previous posts are safe (i'd be devastated if they disappear!!). anyway to cut things short, i made the old blog private and this is a new one. somehow i managed to keep the URL. yeay.
i'm definitely telling you all about my trip (best trip ever, for reasons that i will later explain) but maybe not today. i'm just too lazy to do anything. i have something to talk about, though. hmm..
anyway, thanks for asking me where my blog went. you guys put a smile on my face. <3
