Welcome to the Heartbreak Hotel

It's all so very paradoxical.

You're relieved it's over, and you can't believe it had to end.

You practically handed him the break up, but you can't understand why he took it.

You know that the best way for you to move on is to put him behind you, but you can't stop thinking about him.

You tell him you're not ready to talk, to see him, but you keep wanting, wishing, hoping he'll text, call, appear. Why won't he text?

You know it would never have worked out anyway, but you can still imagine the perfect future you could have had.

You want him to get a new girl, so that there would be some definite closure, and yet you know you'll be crushed the moment he has someone new in his life.

You try make him the bad guy, but all you can think of is how good he was.

You want to blame him, but you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you. 
You hope he rots, but you can't help worry for him. I keep thinking about how cold you must be. Are you cold? Is that stupid?

For the first time in your life, you can relate to your music - depressing love songs, achey heartbreaky stuff - but you don't want to.

Why won't it just end?

Why would you ask to still be friends? Why wouldn't you think, just for one moment, how that's going to leave me? 

Why am I glad that you did?

Don't you see what you've done?

I would just like to get through one day without thinking about this. Just one. 

Peace in, 
Laila

Jazz's Prerequisites for a Solid Relationship

I think of my friend as a smart cookie. While she can appear to be a glitzy type of girl, she's quite perceptive, and I hold her in high esteem. She's been in two relationships.

The first has become a sort of joke to us. The guy was a professed Nazi. He was racist. He was racist against Asians, and technically, she's half Asian. How, we wonder. How on Earth do you justify sticking to that kind of guy?

We laugh about it, but her answer is basically: "Well, I didn't know beforehand. But then, when we were together, I just, I believe that once you get into a relationship, you stick to it and try to make it work no matter what."

She's a nice kind of girl.

Anyway, they were together for quite a while, I'd say over 5 months. It broke down because of time. He didn't make time for her. It sounds pathetic, but from what I was told, I think it was a fair reason. She tried so hard to make it easy for him, she was willing for them to just have a phone call a fortnight. Generous? I think so. But he couldn't do it. It ended hard. Even though she initiated it, she didn't want it to end, but he didn't fight for it. So it was over.

Her second guy. He's a weird story. He swept her off her feet in this whirlwind romance. Drive in cinema. Late nights at the park. Christmas dinner, and holidaying, with his family. $200 ring, then a $500 ring as a present in advance - he told her about it, but said that her friend had said it would be weird to give her two rings, so he withheld it. But he said that he didn't know if he could afford it in the future, so he was buying it now, just in case. He said he hoped they'd spend many Christmases together.

Oh, there were many romanticky words.

Even the big ILoveYou.

And then, just 20 days after, he drove up to her house, uncalled for, and announced that they were over because he 'just didn't feel it anymore'. No other explanation. No gradual break down. No other woman. Just like that.

Mind you, that relationship was only about 2 months long. I didn't realise it was that short, or I might've been more skeptical at the start.

Needless to say, it gutted her. She has been listless ever since, swinging between the extremes of 'what a complete a**hole', to 'what did I do wrong? what's wrong with me?' It gutted me too, because I hate seeing her this way. Putting aside typical insecurities, she's usually very well put together. I think she's a good role model. But now she's so broken, in a way. I have spent many a late night on my phone, or long hour at uni, hearing her out and trying to make her understand that sometimes people do selfish or inconsiderate things, and it's no one's fault, and there's nothing wrong with her. It always only works temporarily. The other day she told me that every day when she gets up, she has to convince herself that it wasn't her fault, or she can't get through the day. She said that she feels like he took her self-esteem with him. Ouch. It hurts my soul, and don't ask me for explanations, but I kind of know where she's coming from.

It's also added to my growing trust issues with the opposite gender. Sorry guys, but your record with the people I know isn't very impressive. Work on it.

But anyway, the one thing good about Jazz getting pensive is that she spouts out some wise and wonderful stuff. And this, my silent friends, is one of those thoughts. Of course, we discussed this, so this is kind of the refined version, but all credit to her :)

So what this is is kind of the foundations of what you need to establish when you're looking to get into an official relationship. It's not about the personal preference stuff, what to look for in the opposite gender, stuff to do with qualities. It's kind of neutral to that sort of thing. This is just to establish if you have the baseline to continue.

Of course these are just ideas, a hypothesis that hasn't been tested formally. But it sounds all right to me. It really just feels like common sense, but I guess when you get into the high, 'love is blind' and all that, you forget these basics. Make what you will of them. Here goes.

#1: Time.
The funny thing is, to be in a relationship, you actually have to be with that person. Physically. For regular periods of time. What 'regular' is is subjective, as is how much time is enough, but essentially, if you are never with a person, you guys are not in a relationship. In the average relationship, if one person doesn't make time, the other person will eventually go crazy. This is not just my friend's relationship. In Freedom Writers, that's what happened Erin Gruwell, and honestly, she was keeping kids in school. Still, you can't blame her man either. If you can't help it, you can't help it. So get it straight before you get into one.

#2: Fixer vs. Replacer
There are many kinds of people in the world. There are two kinds of people we're concerned with. The fixers are devoted to trying to make a relationship work, even when it hits the rocks. The replacers believe that when the going gets tough, it's best to get going and find someone else. Whatever, okay? I'm not here to point fingers. But what you need to understand is that fixers and replacers do not go together. In the event of a conflict, both react to it differently, and basically, a replacer will end up destroying a fixer. Let's say it's not personal. But it'll still hurt. That's not to say all fixers will fix every relationship they're in and get on with it. It just means they'll try harder. You need to decide where you are on that spectrum.

#3: Flaws.
I have always thought that relationships are not so much about finding the perfect person, but finding the person whose flaws you can live with. I think that might be a paraphrase of a quote, but I'm not sure. Anyway. I guess this speaks for itself. However, it might be problematic when you only become aware of these flaws after you dive deep into the relationship, when you put a ring on it or something. So the way you try to get around it is this: when you think that is it, this is where you want to get serious, you sit down and think to yourself - what don't I like this about this person? And you do not stop thinking until you find something. Maybe you need to quiz him/her, but you find something. You ask them to do the same for you. You establish exactly what you hate about each other, and then you decide, in advance, if you can stand them. It's not foolproof - you're still bound to come up with other stuff later on. But hopefully you can cover some of your biggest pet peeves.

#4: What? 
One of my favourite quotes from The Little Prince is: Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but looking outward together in the same direction. The reality is, if you intend to spend forever with someone, you have to make sure you have the same idea of what forever is. To some, it means 4 kids. To others, it means no kids. To some it means a ring on a finger. To others it needs no labels. I mean, maybe one of you doesn't even want a forever, in any way. So there are two parts to this. One: contrary to #3, what exactly do you like about this person? If all you can come up with is 's/he's a hottie', then perhaps you need to reconsider taking a serious step. Two: what are your goals

You know what? This. Is. All. Complete. And. Utter. BS.

You can pretend like you can plan ahead and prevent conflicts. You can act like you know all the necessary rules and principles to deal with problems. You can act like things like compromise, and talking about your feelings, and all that crap, can result in some kind of forever.

But you cannot control people. You cannot help the moment when they change their mind and decide they don't like you anymore. You cannot help it if they decide that the relationship you have is not worth fighting for anymore. You cannot stop them if they decide to leave you behind. And there's nothing you can do if they take your stupid heart with them. 

Really, the only thing people should keep in mind is that when someone decides to entrust you with their heart, and you accept, you have a responsibility. And it's freaking huge. Don't screw up.

But the key word there is 'should'. 

People should throw their rubbish in the bin. People should be loyal in relationships. People should refrain from murder.

And yet, there's rubbish on the streets, infidelity is rife, and we still have murderers in the world. So I guess it's okay to screw up someone's heart.

Peace in,
Laila

Let's just die.

I hate people. I hate life. I hate university. I just want to shoot myself.

In summary, I'm a bitter, old hag. Whiny, First World brat. What's new?

I'm doing a mental health unit, this semester, actually. I get the feeling I'm going to end up nuts by the end, self-diagnosed with jizbillions of conditions. I already I think I'm something like manic depressive. My tutor mentioned something along the lines of these people having a tendency 'to internalise all their problems, not discuss it, and just lose it at some point'. Something like that. It sounded like me. Then everything does, when you do this sort of course. I could probably convince myself I'm pregnant. Immaculate conception. 

So I had a bad thought recently. Well, it seemed like a bad thought, but I'd like some feedback. Not dying for it. I've gotten used to you people not saying much. The views increase, but alas, all is silent on your front. I swear there are echoes sometimes.

Anyway, I was in a lecture the other day, and the lecturer was discussing all these statistics about the demographic of Oz and all. She talked about birth rates and death rates. Our birth rate isn't too bad, but from what I could deduce, our population isn't growing due to birth, it's more that we live longer. Hurray.

She then showed us these tables on the top causes of death throughout the last years. It varied some, with us 'curing' stuff and other conditions replacing them. Our lecturer very briefly mentioned that the moral is that we're all going to die of something. You cure one, something else comes along. 

I don't know why, but this just stuck in my head.

My thought, in summary: why don't we just let people die?

I've worked in aged care twice, as y'all know. Two different places - one in an affluent suburb, another in the ghetto that is where I live. It's the same thing.

Old people on drugs being shuffled about in this mind-numbing routine, around a prison like setting. They're not really there. Some have loving relatives that come all the time, but too many just sit and stare their days away. They're washed and changed and fed and put to bed like babies. They don't remember things on a daily basis. I'm sure the nurses and PCA workers care for them - I like to think that most people who go into the profession don't do it for the dough. I don't really know if there is a lot of dough involved, actually. I know I cared. Regardless, even if we assume they do care, the point is, it's still a job. It's hard to appreciate the company if you know they're getting paid. For a relationship to be meaningful, you need to be able to share your burdens on equal footing. You can't have a policy or boss dictate the terms and conditions. And yet, for the most part, that's the only kind of relationships that most of these old souls have.

And what is the point?

Aren't we for quality of life, over quantity? 

It's not that I think that we should just stop taking care of our elderly and let them rot. And I can't bring myself to propose a step back seeing as we've come so far.

There is something beautiful about how we traditionally take care of them. You in the Eastern world know what I mean. We keep good old grandma and grandpa in our big family home, forever and always. They get to watch their offspring blossom and expand into an empire. We take care of them, not an institution. Yeah, they may see the doctor frequently, and get given meds. But they're not freakishly doped up, you know? And we're always there. To the end. No one dies alone in a foreign room, staring at an empty ceiling, attached to tubes.

And when they reach 70, 80, 90, or 100, whatever affliction takes them, it still feels... healthy. Normal. Does that make sense? We fight for the lives of our elderly, but not to the point that they live an almost artificial existence. Our elderly, no matter how they decline, are regal. Not neglected. And in that sense, growing old is beautiful.

It's just not the same here.

But as I said, I don't mean that we should stop the drugs now. I just think that we need to stop trying to cure certain conditions that take old people. Alleviate pain, yes. Prevention, yes. But stop trying to fix 'death'. 

JUST LET THEM DIE, FOR GOD'S SAKE. 

LET THEM GO.

Stop holding onto people who aren't even there.

Is that a bad thought?

It's not just that. I remember in year 11, when I was doing literature, we were just starting on Frankenstein, and our teacher asked us if there was anything wrong in trying to banish death. 

"Who doesn't want to live forever?" he asked. 

I pulled a Hermione, for some bizarre reason, with my hand just shooting up. I was the only one. I don't think it's because I'm the only one who had this view. Perhaps the others just hadn't thought about it, or were smart enough to try and keep their opinions at bay.

Of course my teacher beamed.

"And why not, Laila? How could you possibly turn down immortality? Imagine all the never ending fun you could have."

I don't remember exactly what I said, but I remember floundering a bit. I couldn't find the words, but it just felt wrong at the time. I thought about it later, of course, and I realised that a life with a time limit is a meaningful one. When our days are numbered, every now and again, we wake up and realise that we have to make 'em count. Not always, but you know those random YOLO occasions. In this weird way, if we don't die, we have nothing to really live for. When you feel like you have all the time in the world, you don't really take the time to savour it, right? 

I donno. Just a thought. I realise this post is kind of pointless. No one is going to read this and care enough and nothing will change. 

I think this was just for me to make a mental note: at some point, I have to die. 

At some point, the battle to stay alive isn't worth the fight. 

I'm a nurse in the making, guys. Take a good look at your future ;)

Peace in,

Laila

'the man shot dead'

I know this guy. 

I use 'know' very loosely here. He went to my school. We've been in the same class. He walked the same halls as me. Talked to people I knew. I've spoken to him.

He's my age.

It's just so close to home. I don't know what to do.

It doesn't feel real.

Just how. What. What.

I have to admit, I had a reaction I'm not proud of. I mean, after the initial shock, I was just... Like... I wasn't angry or contemptuous, but I just initially accepted he was in the wrong. It's so mean, right?

I just didn't have the best impression of him, personally, in my goody-two-shoes way. He was a bit obnoxious in my French class. He used to always argue with this girl - she was provocative too - but the thing is, they would shout and swear, and that just makes me nervous.

But I've been thinking about it... All day... And there are just so many dimensions and I'm so confused and frustrated and absolutely very completely ... Listless. It's just bizarre. 

Like... I'm not sure what I can say here, because I don't know if people can find this stuff and so... I can't spill secrets, I don't want to compromise other people or be involved... But I really... I feel like I'm going to explode.

It's just that I don't know what to believe and I don't know what to think but I don't think I need to find a stance like it's not really my place to find a stance on this but then how do you not have a stance and I knew him and how is someone the class clown one day and compelled to stab policemen another day and then just dead and what if the police are lying what if the media are lying what if we're all just lying and was it a malicious act was it just stupidity was he scared or was he angry was he really so threatening and did the police really have to shoot or was it just like an instinctive reaction or were they hateful and how does this happen and how skeptical are we allowed to be about things how can you believe everything you hear but then how can you not just believe everything I mean I

JUST

DON'T

KNOW.

What I do know.

He's not an 18 year old man, terror suspect. He's a boy. Maybe he was into stupid things, but he had time to change and grow up.

Peace in,
Laila

These are the things that Laila misses

Stones and bones;
snow and frost;
seeds and beans and polliwogs.
Paths and twigs, assorted kisses,
We all know who Susie misses...

- The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold

I miss having a purpose. I don't really miss school as it is - I wouldn't go back to the classes, the stress of SACs and exams, the pressure of expectations, not only because others want you to do well but because you want to do well, and 'well' had to be an exceptional score. But I miss the routine, the going, the knowing what I had to do in order to achieve something. I miss the nudges to stick to the path, I miss the short-term goals that led up to the long-term one, and there was always that impending feeling... it's coming... closer and closer... we're almost there. My routine now is wake up around 8am, feed my cats, go for a bike ride, and... a question mark. Nothing. A wait. I read a bit, I talk to my cousins and sister, we go a-walking, we go places, or we don't, and it just feels like circles. 

It's not that I don't have anything to do. I already mentioned that to-do list that I'm sort of working my way through. University stuff... cat stuff (still have to find two homes, prepare for the second litter, and then organise the desexing :/ )... bank/work stuff... learning to drive... artsy stuff... But there's no drive. It's gone. It's not that I don't want to go to university, or I'm not that excited. I'm just... distracted by the Nothing that's going on.

I miss the effect of prayer. Back in the day, when I had things to do, and prayer was neatly fitted into my timetable, it had an effect. Sure, as the average human, I'd get distracted every now and then. Despite that, having these goals, having a purpose, knowing what I wanted specifically, I had this need to concentrate. I know that sounds so superficial - you want something from God, you pay attention, but when you don't, you forget Him - but I was motivated, and I'd put in everything into concentrating, into knowing what I was saying rather than mindlessly rambling away in Arabic, and there was always this feeling of fulfillment afters. Of satisfaction. Maybe the feeling of being purified or something. But in this weird haze that I'm living in, as I said... I'm distracted by the nothing. I forget to concentrate, and only when I'm finished I curl up in a ball and pray to have it back. 

I miss being a kid. Cheesy, I know. The other day we went to my cousins' house, and I took the littlies to the park. I don't think I ever stopped swinging, but since I've 'grown up', I haven't done the monkey bars. I had a go at them that afternoon, and owwww, it killed, but damn it felt good. I did them twice over, because for once they were high enough so that my feet couldn't touch the ground anyway. I remember in the early years of primary school, how agile we were, how flexible, how much energy we had, as we fearlessly climbed onto the top, flipped over, shamelessly showing off our cute little potbellies. I remember running my fingers over the hardened ridge of blisters on the underside of our hands. We were so tough. And now my hands feel so soft, and it makes me sad. 

I miss singing at the top of my lungs. When I use the word 'singing', of course, I'm using it rather loosely based on what I intend to do, because you know, realistically I can't actually sing. At the beach the other day, I encouraged my little sister to sing 'Let it Go' from Frozen as loudly as she could from the bathroom, and I joined in of course, because I was shielded from the 'audience' in my little shower stall. We ended up starting a sing-a-long with some random little girls that I never got to meet, because they left by the time we got out. But it was a great feeling, until my cousin mentioned that they could hear us outside the bathroom. I used to do it at home, vacuuming, as I once mentioned before, but apparently people can hear me when I do. I'm embarrassed to do it around my cousins, or maybe I just want to spare them the agony, and so I can't do it anymore. But the urge to just let it rip, let it go (see what I did there?), is always there. Just waiting.

I miss the way my family used to be, before the financial crisis. Sure, we weren't exactly Full House warm and fuzzy, but the fights used to be the exception, and it wasn't always so dismal. It goes like this: my father, when we're driving, or just chilling at home, will start lecturing on something to do with using too much electricity or water or just the cost of living in general, and how everything is very bad right now, we need to be careful. When I need something to be bought, I'll mention it to my mother. She'll ask my why I don't ask my dad, and I'll say that I don't want to stress him out. So, because she loves us, she'll go tell him to tone down the lectures because clearly they stress all of us out. Lo and behold: explosion. Tears. My dad will turn on us and start on the appreciation/gratitude speech: Don't I buy everything you need? Have I ever denied you anything? Are you stressed? Why is she saying you're stressed? We're okay, okay? I'm just reminding you not to be wasteful. Nobody is grateful in this house, blah, blah, blah... We robotically agree with him. Finit.

What makes me sad is that for so long we have wanted extended family. For so. Damn. Long. And after all the years of prayer, God, as He does, grants our dua like a backhanded compliment. Sure, you can have your cousins, but I'm going to send them over at the worst possible time, when you're in the deepest of ditches. Because Allah tests those He loves the most, and He never gives you a burden you can't bear. Without those two bits of gold... so help me, I don't know where I'd be.

But my cousins will eventually move out, and I'm stuck because I selfishly want them to stay, but I know it's hard for them to stay because they have to deal with a lot of crap in our house, and so even I think they should go, but then I don't want them to because I want them here and I want it to be Full House.

I miss writing stories. I miss the brief glimpses of ideas that'd flit through my mind, that I'd latch onto, and think and think and think, and come up with something that I'd love for a while and hate later. The many empty notebooks that pervade my desk mock me.

And I miss people. I miss the people at school that I never really spoke to, that I don't even really want to speak to, that I probably never will speak to. I miss their presence, their predictability, their familiarity. Until university starts, I have no established social life, and it feels... lonely. I miss seeing my friends regularly at school, and somehow we always had things to talk about, but now, in all the nothing, even though Star doesn't live so far away, I can't bear to always see her, because sometimes I just don't know what to say. And I don't like texting people. I'm sick of texting my other friends. I want to see them in person, and I want to do things, but everyone's so busy or they have strict families or it's just too hard so all we have is texting and I hate it. I miss my extended family. I haven't Skyped with my favourite cousin or aunt in ages, and I know they're busy, they have kids, my cousin's brother is joining her in Dubai, they too have lives, but I wish I was a part of their lives too. I've upgraded to Whatsapp, because a few more of my cousins and nieces have that, and it's great because they spam me with their photos, but I miss the conversations, where we actually exchange meaningful words and sentences, but they just don't do that over text, and they're so far away, and they're growing up, and there's more of them, and I'm not there and once again, I'm not a part of their lives, and I don't know how to be. I miss my online friends, our superdy long conversations, always random and funny, but also with a lot of soul. My soul, anyhow. I miss Sam, I miss Arvie... I worry for Arvie, because I haven't heard from her since the typhoon in the Philippines, and I'm only taking solace in that it's a question mark too. I miss Meli, I miss Ali, I miss that world.

I realise I may have come across as depressed, but honestly, I'm not really. A lot of this is just whinging, isn't it? I mentioned I have things to do, and some other stuff is just cliché and nostalgia that makes an appearance every now and then. So if you feel the need to console, don't worry about it ^_^ It's what happens when you have too much time. C'est la vie, this too shall pass, life goes on.

This song breaks my heart. I love it so much, I play it on repeat, and I don't know why, because it's not like I've ever experienced 'love'. But I wonder, when it comes to a relationship, whether I'd be the giving tree, or the person who cuts it down to a stump. I don't want to be a stump, nor do I want to be the person who sits on it. 

I wonder if it has to be that way. But then I think of good ol' Jodi Picoult's quote about a relationship never being 50-50, how there's always someone who loves the person a leetle bit more. I wonder...

... too much time -_-'

Peace in,
Laila

Money, money, money.

On the 14th of November, a father was admitted into hospital. The doctors performed tests and gave him a report, and they were ready to release him. His family - wife, two daughters, two sons - were about to come visiting, but he calls his oldest son to tell him not to worry. He tells his son to just come by himself to pick him up, there's nothing wrong, why cause the hassle of hiring a van to get everyone to town?

So off this boy goes, catches a bus to town to pick his father up. The story gets a bit awry here, but from what I've heard, on the way out, his father had his first stroke. The boy is there to see it. He's around for the second stroke, he's around to see his father die. I heard he fed his dad, too. When he set out that day, with the intention of bringing home his father, he didn't realise it was going to be a dead body.

His younger brother too, still in school, did not realise that when he left for school that day, that was the last time he was going to say bye to his dad. The girls, too, went about helping their mother wash the clothes and make lunch, they didn't know that some of those clothes and some of that food were not going to be worn or eaten.

You probably want to know what was on the father's report, right? Well, it said 95% of his kidneys were gone. 

The thing about kidneys is that they don't just go. They don't just fall apart like that, one day. It's a gradual thing, and there are signs, signs that the father must have noticed up until the moment he was finally admitted into hospital. So why, you wonder, wouldn't he go to the doctors earlier, when these signs first cropped up? Why didn't he tell anyone earlier?

Money. He didn't have the money. Doctors appointments in Sri Lanka are pretty darn expensive, and his family just didn't have enough. He could have asked someone, right? Mentioned it... our side alone, my mother has three brothers and three sisters. Surely someone could have dished up.

About two years ago, we went on a holiday to Sri Lanka, and that proved to be the period where our family was conned, and we lost all our money. Not just that, but this 'business' involved the wealthier members of our family, so they too, went down with us. It was on that holiday that my dad told my uncle, who had reluctantly admitted that he needed some financial help, that he would aid him in any way possible. But my dad never got to, because, as I said, the money was all gone by the end of that holiday.

It makes me sick. Don't get me wrong, I'm not calling for a revolution, to burn all the money in the world and live in this happy chappy, airy fairy utopia, where love makes the world go round, and everyone just gives, gives, gives. I know the communist dream is only that - a dream, because in practise it never works. But that doesn't make me feel any better about the inequities of this world. All he needed was a bit of money, and maybe this never would have happened. But then, huh, what's meant to be is meant to be, right?

And still money is the problem. None of his kids are working, nor does my aunt. The oldest daughter, besides being a bit fussy, can't get married because they don't have the means to meet the requested dowries from the umpteen suitors that have come along (completely unIslamic, btw -_-' ). The son has just finished some major exams - O-levels, A-levels? all the same to me - and we're trying to get him to come here, but again, you have to have a certain income to sponsor someone to come over, which is also true of his sister. We're working on it, but it feels like no one has enough. The youngest is still in school, and I guess everyone's going to try and contribute to the tuition and school fees.

On Thursday (the 28th), my sister went overseas. She had this money saved up for a party we were going to host for our friends at the end of the year, but we decided it was better used going overseas. I haven't spoken to my cousins, yet. They're grieving, and understandably, talking on the phone is not the first thing on their minds. And besides, what can we possibly say from over here to make it okay? When someone's mourning, the best thing is just to be there, you know? And however you need to help should manifest itself without you having to offer pre-written, conventional condolences.

I admit I was a bit jealous. Not in the sense of, God, I hate her, why does she get to go? I want to go, it's not fair, my life sucks, I hate the world. It's more like, gee, I wish I could go, but I ain't hatin' on nobody because I can't. It's strictly a moral support trip, and everyone has been saying that if we had the money (again! >.< ), they'd have sent me too, so I'm not holding it against anyone. 

And then this nasty voice starts up in my head, going something like this: Well, will you look at that? When Number One finished school, not only did you guys go on holiday to Sri Lanka, but within that you also went on Umrah. And yet, when you finish school, not only is there no overseas holiday, not only do you just mostly wallow about at home, but there is the added list of  demands - get a job, get your license, tutor your sisters, clean this, do that. And they're even talking about marriage. They just can't wait to get rid of you, huh?

Really hate that voice. 

Anyhow, I don't really know why I blogged this. I told Linchy I would blog something, and I've been meaning to, but I couldn't figure out where to start. So here is Something. My life as of recent. 

I'm not as depressed as this sounds, awnestly. My uncle, he will be missed, but we watched a part of his funeral on Skype, and I actually saw him, and I expected something ghastly and emaciated, but in fact, he looked almost beautiful. Glowing. Nur, they say, right? Isn't it supposed to be a good sign? I put my trust in God. And I know my sister will be helping my cousins, even if I can't. I actually have another cousin coming in two weeks or so. And I've also been given this new resolve - I actually am really attempting to get a job, for me, now, because I want to save up and go to Sri Lanka at the end of next year. New Year's goal, I guess.

And, one more thing: this is so cheesy, but make sure the last thing you say to someone before you leave them, whether it be before you go to school or work, to sleepover at a friend's place or go on a grand trip overseas, make sure it's nice, okay? My mother, she kind of had this experience, in this post. One day, she said her salaams and went to school, and when she came back, it was to her father's funeral. Just like that. You never really know when you're going to speak to someone for the last time, so try, always try, to end it on a good note.

Be happy :)

Peace in,
Laila

The Bad News

You guys. You guys. *giggles like a little girl*

Actually, no. See, I have good news and bad news, but to combine everything in one post would probably make it so long that you'd fall asleep before you reached the end. So I'm going to do the bad news, because I don't like ending on a bad note... it's like going from Legal to History, for me. Also, if I delay the good news for a few days, I may have pictures to share. Maybe. *giggles again*

Okay, bad news. It's not really news, it's just...all my good spirits from yesterday were just crushed. Not completely, because everytime I think about yesterday I start getting floaty and airy fairy, but then I think of today and I just.... deflate. I should stop talking about the good news.

Um, my sister and I had a fight. This is not unusual, we always fight, but I feel like this one takes the cake because it's SO COMPLETELY UNFAIR. But I'm going to let you guys be the judge. Please tell me if I'm in the wrong here.

My sister does online tutoring. I think it's on every Sunday that she basically books sessions for the week, each one being 30min. I personally believes she takes on too many, or maybe I just don't like this idea of working for so long in front of a screen, but she loves her money. Whatever. 

Sometimes, she needs me to cover for her, because on top of the online tutoring, she does do face-to-face tutoring, and she also has uni and stuff. I really hate it; it just feels so impersonal with all these rules and regulations to deal with, and you know, I like to try get people to think more deeper or aim higher, whereas my sister keeps insisting that you just answer what you have to, and that's it. Also, I'm technically still in high school, so I feel like a cheat when someone logs in that's my age... like I don't really have the expertise to help them when I'm still on their level. And of course, there are times when people come on, sometimes uni students, and I have no idea what to do, and I really freak out. It's just so... stressful.

But anyhow, when my sister asks me to do it, for all my whining and whinging, I always do it. Whether or not she decides to compensate me for my time in, I do it because... well, let me be honest here: I fear her wrath. When she's mad, she's like a raging bull with anger-management issues that woke up on the wrong side of the paddock and then someone decided to poke him in the butt. Yep. And, also, I know it's important to her, and the management can get tetchy if you're late or you miss a session... so yeah. I do it. Always. Got that?

So on Sunday, my sister walked into my room and told me that at 4 o'clock, she needed me to cover for her because she was going to be out - well, she'd be on her way home, but she wasn't sure she'd make it on time. So basically, I'd have to cover for her for the first 10 or 15min.

Now, for some inexplicable reason, I thought she was talking about tomorrow - i.e. Monday. I really don't know why, but that was what was in my head. And on Monday, I had my own tutoring client from 4 to 5, and it's not the kind where I can multi-task - we're pretty much engaged the whole time. 

So I was like nononononononono, I can't.

And she was like pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.

And I was like nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

And she was like pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseI'llpayyouplease.

And I was like Ihateyou.

And she was like pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.

And I was like fine. I'll try. (Think it in a really brattish tone. That's how it was said.)

Right. So I made a mental note that at 4pm tomorrow, I'd have to log in to her tutoring thing.

Of course, we've established by now that she actually meant that very day, as in Sunday, but I didn't know that because my stupid brain said Monday. And that evening was rather lovely, so I went for a bike ride, and I came back at about 4:15pm and as soon as I walked into the kitchen, my cousin had an evil grin, and he made that BOOM gesture with his hands. My mother arched her eyebrows and shook her head. I thought, as usual, she'd had a fight with someone else in the family.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"What did you do?" my cousin whispered back.

I was so confused. Eventually, my mother explained about how apparently I'd agreed to tutor that day and blahblahblah. You know. So I went to my room, unbuckling the helmet, wondering what to do. I was going to go an apologise and explain right away, but I know my sister, and when she's mad, you don't reason with her.

When she's mad, she's vicious. She has hit me and violently shoved me about - and I'm not talking about when we were little, but I mean, in the recent years. I have many bad memories of her rage. I remember once - when I was about 11 - I had gotten this new paint set and spent the whole day working on this dophin picture. In a split second of anger - for what reason, I can't remember - she marched into my room when I'd left, ripped it up into shreds and threw it in the bin. Oh my God, it's depressing me even now o_o

Basically, she's the shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of person. So I thought to myself, I'll give it a little time, let her cool down, see how she is when she comes out of the computer room.

Then my little sister, Number 3, came in, and being the little gossip she is, started filling me in on the tirade I missed. Apparently I was called a 'selfish... [insertwordthatstartwith'b'andrhymeswithwitch]'. Now, you guys should know I don't swear, and it's generally a no-no in our house. So her using that means she was really really mad.... so I thought, um, maybe give it a day.

I was also irked. Those charming words she used to describe me basically means she thought I had intentionally decided to put aside her request just 'because'... like I just wanted to provoke her for the fun of it. Clearly, as mentioned before, she's INSANE when she's mad, so why the heck would I do that? Seriously. In terms of the household hierarchy, I'm her doormat. I'm so passive it's not even funny. So okay, she's mad, but does she honestly think I'd have the brave to defy her just like that?

And, also, where's my motive? We've been on good terms for a while, why would I do that anyway? I'm not self-destructive, or a hell-raiser.

But I thought, hey, she's mad, she's probably not thinking logically. A day it is.

My dad did ask me, on the spot, if I had in fact promised to take on her shift and all, and I explained what happened, and then he, in turn, explained it to her... but all was quiet.

She didn't speak to me all week. 

Now, I got told off for not trying to make it up with her, my dad being all like 'why aren't you talking to your sister? Blahblahblahblah....'

And I have to say, I'm not not talking to her. I'm just waiting for her to talk to me. As soon as she does, that's it. I'm not holding any grudges, I understand the situation. The reason I'm not talking to her is because I don't understand the extent of her anger, and if she's really that mad, trying to talk to her will only result in my death, or something.

So then come yesterday. The Good News Day. Confronted with some external company, we exchanged words, if awkwardly, and I thought, this is good. We've made up. Things can go back to how it is.

Come today. We're still a bit awkward, but we're still exchanging words. It could only get better.

After I came back from tuition, Star invited me for a bike ride. That's when I noticed my helmet was missing.

Okay, it's not strictly mine, it's hers. But she said I could keep it in my room ages ago, because I ride my bike more often anyhow, and I always thought it was a joint thing. Thought.

I searched high and low, and I couldn't find it, even though it's not like some mystery where I keep it. It's always on the highest shelf on my desk. Then I thought, well, there's a chance my sister may have gone on a bike ride when I was at school or something, maybe she kept it in her room. So I went in there, and after a bit of poking about... I found it. It was in her closet, right there, tucked into one of her clothes' shelves. Then I got a little shifty feeling. Okay, she might have gone for some bike ride, but why would she take the effort to really tuck that helmet so deeply in there?

[I would also like to take a moment to stress that going through each other's rooms is not in itself out of bounds. We usually go by the sisterly laws of sharing all our clothes, so we go in out of each other's closets all the time without asking.]

And then I thought... well, maybe she's really still mad, and the awkwardness is just that she's trying to appease my father. So I thought I'd test this out. I got dressed to go, and then I went to her and asked her if she'd seen the helmet. She said no.

Well, there you have it.

In my head, I kind of exploded. I just couldn't believe after all this time, she was still mad at me for a basic misunderstanding. And now, on top of that, she was lying to me.... I mean, okay, that's not something new, people lie all the time. But this is me knowing she's lying. It made me sick.

I put on my headscarf, marched to her room, got the helmet out, marched back to her, and said: 'Funny how you don't know where it is, but it's right there in your room.'

(Now that I think about it, that was a dangerous move to make o.o )

'I don't think you should be using that,' my sister said, with this twisted smile on her face. I expected more anger, but she just had this kind of careless expression.

'We had an agreement,' I said, and I could feel myself starting to tear up. I had to meet Star in 5min, so I started stalking towards the door.

'Excuse me, that's my helmet that I bought,' she hissed, and followed me to the door. I whirled around to face her.

'Can I just ask you something?' I said, while she said 'Give me my helmet.' Knowing there was no point requesting permission, I ploughed ahead. 'Why are you mad at me?'

'Because you ditched my tutoring thing on Sunday,' she said (or something to that effect, can't remember the words).

'Didn't you hear dad?' I cried. 'It was a mistake. I thought you meant Monday. Why are you mad at me for a misunderstanding? I didn't MEAN IT!'

'And yet you sabotaged my tutoring,' she snapped. At this point, my mother was just telling me to ignore her and go, and my dad was telling her to calm down, and she just strode off, saying: 'Enjoy that bike ride, it's going to be your last.'

Okay, I went outside, I bawled for like two minutes, and forced myself to stop because I don't like crying around friends. And when I got to our meeting place, Star was late so I unburdened my woes on my favourite black horse. And the bike ride we went for was 14km, which is like a stroll to the mailbox and back for Star, but was just... like walking to the other side of Australia and back for me. My thighs are burning, but it feels so good in a way, and I guess all the endorphins that were released helped me to sit down and write this without bawling ^_^

Anyhow, how is that fair? SABOTAGE? REALLY? I DIDN'T MEAN IT. I HAVE NO REASON TO DO STUPID MEAN THINGS LIKE THAT. I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING LIKE THAT BEFORE. Isn't ONE ENTIRE WEEK a little too much anger for one tiny misunderstanding?? Am I in the wrong? You can be honest. 

Also, remember in some earlier posts I promised a good whinge? Well, this is it. Really, I could have started this from the beginning of this year, of all the ways she's been upsetting me, and just in that time frame this post could go on forever. It's just... everytime we go through some bad bit, I manage to get over it and think that it's not worth immortalising on the net. But then we hit another wall, and seriously, she's driving me to a breaking point. My sister seems to be the source of 90% of my woes. She's so mean and domineering and aggressive and scary and only for the sake of Allah do I love her, because everything else about her really makes me sick. Okay, she does have her good points, but it's the millions of bad points that ingrain themselves into my mind. 

I can't wish bad things on others, and I'm pretty sure it's wrong to anyhow, which is why I've taken to making a Very Good Wish for her, one that she wants very badly too: I really hope she gets married and just GOES AWAY.

A happier post ahead, insha'allah, guys (:

Peace in,
Laila