Monday, November 30, 2015

One Hundred Fourteen

Most writings are based on personal encounters. That's how the word 'point of view' comes into picture.

Some people don't get it. They condemn because they have a different perspective. And that's how people become judgmental.

I am trying my hardest to be open to criticisms and accept them positively. Trying to tell myself they interpret the message differently hence the comments.

Well these days every one wants to say something on everything. Everyone wants to be famous. Wants to be the first to relay an information.

I just want to be happy.

Because today marks the second year I married the man of my dreams.

Even though he's out playing futsal. On our anniversary. Yeah.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

One Hundred Thirteen

I personally think what predominantly dictates someone's behaviour is the culture he is brought up with. I couldn't find any other accurate term besides 'culture'.

So I was taught not to answer 'Aaa' when my name is being called, instead, respond 'Yes'.

I was taught to invite others to join me eat at the dining table if he or she happens to pass by the dining room.

I was taught to bend when passing through someone who is more elderly (and I believe many parents inculcate the same culture).

I was taught to give salam to the teachers I bump into.

I was brought up in a school culture where I had to call every female senior 'kak' even she is, for a fact, 3 months older than me (if I was born in February 2000 and Kak 'X' was born in December 1999 I am still obliged to call her 'kak')

I was taught to send my guests off to the gate and only get inside the house when they leave.

I still until the moment I write this, practise whatever culture I have listed above. These are some obvious ones. There are many I couldn't think of but somehow give impact to our grown up lives.

p/s: I'm used to serve my guests with a tray even if it's just a glass of plain water. Thanks mommy for all this.

Friday, November 6, 2015

One Hundred Twelve

One of his expensive pens broke. It's not like he couldn't write with it at all - the clip was detached from the cap.

"I don't want this pen anymore. I need to buy a new one."

"But you can still use it."

"But I don't like my things imperfect."

I kept myself silent.

"That's why I like you. You're so perfect to me."


Wednesday, November 4, 2015

One Hundred Eleven

There were the two menantu working out a proper dish in the kitchen yesterday - both had no idea what and how to cook.

One decided to make asam pedas. The other agreed to the idea.

"Guna ikan apa nak buat asam pedas?"

"Ikan yang tengah defrost tu. Kita tak kenal tu ikan apa."

"Kita pun tak kenal tu ikan apa. Bedallah."

They went on cooking.

"Kakja, mana daun kesum eh?"

The other shrugged her shoulder. Both then stared at the maid, feeling hopeful, only to be disappointed later.

"Kita rasa yang rupa macam daun kari tu." The much elder menantu searched for daun kesum in the fridge, and when she found something that she thought might be it, they both smelt it and grinned.

"Haaa! Betullah ni daun kesum!"

Alhamdulillah we, eh, I mean, they survived cooking asam pedas. It tasted great in fact.