| Tuesday, January 31, 2006 |
| Happy New Year(s)! |
 When I asked one of my friends what year this Muslim’s New Year is, he hesitantly answered, “Fourteen seventy something.” I said, “Oh, fantastic. We can celebrate it, but that would be about fifty years from now.” We did not laugh. This ignorance is perfectly understandable. I wouldn’t have known this fact either had I not been cozily sleeping in the mosque while the Khatib was soothingly delivering his sermon last Friday prayer. (Shame on me. Facts of life, you were right my sister.) Oh, can you also be so damn sure that you can pronounce the word Ma’al right? (Do you remember Vince's suicidal attempt in his song with Yassin? Yes, that part with ta-a-la. Hahaha). Apparently, less publicity is given to the 1427th celebration, if you ever call it so, of Ma’al Hijrah. Despite the hangover euphoria that everybody just felt for 2006 (Jesus Year!) exactly one month ago, this Muslim’s New Year is celebrated so ‘flamboyantly’ in the midst of spiritual malaise of our fellow Muslims. No firework at KLCC. No mega concert. No discount for Orange Club ( Astaghfirullah!). No parties, of course. Good. (Do we have to?) Besides the ever famous 2006 New Year, I see another ‘meeting’ between Chinese New Year and Muslim’s New Year as ironic coincidence. The former is full of traditional celebrations while the latter is full of religious significance. One is celebrated in joyful mood, laughter, hilarity and familiness while the other one is ‘partied’ in a less-firework understanding of Hijrah – physical, spiritual and mental swing of Muslim’s renaissance. The only ‘obvious’ Ma’al Hijrah program is the national ‘gala’ aired ‘live’ on most TV stations early in the morning, the very morning when most young Muslim teenagers are sleeping comfortably on their beds. 3 New Years, 3 Meanings, 3 Lives. Happy New Years (Jesus, Chinese, Muslim)!  Labels: cekmi's immature thoughts |
| mused by cekmi @ 4:10 PM |
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| Friday, January 27, 2006 |
| Review of a Renegade |
I am always a late blossomer. With regards to movie-going activities, I am always left behind.
I know this movie is not an ‘in’ thing to comment, knowing that people are now so much into King Kong, or Memoirs of Geisha, or Brokeback Mountain (Jimi, I am trying to review a movie here okay, so please!) But, allow me to say a few words about this not-so-Oscaric movie - 13 Going on 30.
 I watched this on HBO few weeks ago and it is still disturbing me. There is something about this movie, the bigger issue, that stays there at the back of my mind, making me say to myself: Okay Cekmi, just let it out, no matter how blasphemous it would sound to your readers. So, here we go.
Firstly, I love Jennifer Gardner, a lot. Her acts in Alias are simply stunning and heartbreaking. Secondly, I just love those stories which involve anything going to the past or to the future. It is a very electrifying and exciting concept. It demands the attention to every little detail in the past or present that matters and could cause something significant in our lives. How could I forget Back to the Future, Terminator, Timeline, just to name a few (but not Star Wars, sorry folks). This obsession of going to the past or future gives me such goosebumps. It makes me appreciate the small things of my present life that may affect bigger things in the future. I see the bigger picture, rather than being stucked to the labyrinth. Cause-and-effect principles seem bigger and alive.
Now, what makes me so uneasy with 13 Going on 30 is the ending part of it: the 13-turn-30 Jenna got back her not-so-impressive-in-the-first-impression boyfriend (in a reincarnated life) whom she dumbed before during her childhood (in a pre-reincarnted life). She managed to get what she wanted of what was not supposed to be hers in the first place. It is not fair! Everybody should be given this chance in their lives. Meaning, if we are given these rare opportunities to see how ruined our lives are in the future, I bet the world would be a better place for us to rejoice, not to suffer. Then, what is fair? God should enable us to see our future, our Hell or Heavan.
All right ustazs, it sounds profane and apostate, but imagine, a lousy driver, after seeing himself crippled in a hospital after a tragic accident, will definitely drive carefully. A shopaholic, after seeing herself fully bankrupt in the future, would save every penny she earns. Imagine, a lazy student in English class, after seeing himself rejected for every interview session he attends in the future, will start writing blogs in English. Oh, imagine I am 13 and given a chance to travel to see my life at the age of 30 (which is now!), and then go back to my teenage years. What would I do to fix things in my life?
I would learn how to kick a ball
I would be a very good brother to my siblings
I would send letters regularly to my childhood friends
I would say “thank you, I love you” to my mum everyday
I would replenish my novel collections every month
I would put three different universities in my top three choices in Borang UPU
I would pursue my first degree in Bachelor of Language & Literature
I would never mingle with Dunhill dragons
I would be a member of a fitness club right after graduation
I would not sign the application form for a credit card
I would not listen to any salesman who persuades me to buy a Proton
I would be patient enough to save money before going for any personal loan
I would ask Jimi to teach me how to see a movie with a not-so-dumb mind
But hey, I am not 13-going-on-13 Jenna. The truths are always ugly. Pass. Labels: cekmi's lunatic philosophy |
| mused by cekmi @ 7:06 PM |
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| Wednesday, January 25, 2006 |
| It Is Golden Sand, Near New Castle |
Rural legends claimed that this place is called Pasir Mas (Golden Sand) because some lucky folks, tens or maybe hundreds of years ago, saw the glittering sand sprawled magically along Sungai Kelantan, just like gold! The fact that many Pasir Masists now are relatively wealthier compared to other districts makes me wonder whether they secretly inherit this fortune from their great-great-great grand parents who found and sold that so-called gold (Further archeological research is needed to verify this).
Urban legends now claim that this place is full of good-looking men and women. That’s flattering, indeed. In normal circumstances, it is a cliche when, after introducing myself and saying that I am from Pasir Mas, an outsider would typically remark: “Patutlah comel!” (Suffice to say, I am not qualified for further comments).
What makes me so attached with this town is its pious treatment to me when I was a teenager. The people were so full of religiously kasih sayang. When I was at the bus station, I could simple leave my stuffs there without worrying about any mat rempiks stealing them. However, I dare not extend this exaggeration now since the bus station has been modified and modernized (morally, I am not sure).
This town is also adjacent to Sungai Kelantan. And this was and still is my favourite spot.
 As a pompous, carefree teenager, I loved hanging out at this place for hours. To view the beautiful river, to feel the cool breeze, to read novels (here cekmi?), to put myself into a nice slumber while waiting for the next kelas tambahan, I took this place as my sanctuary, my place of safety. As a matter of fact, it was the river that actually attracted my attention, not the surrounding artificial make-up of it.
Yes, it now looks like a commercialized ‘park’, but it never was. In fact, it is the humble effort of the authorities to beautify the place, but it also never was. Not in my humble perspective, at least. Apparently, it has been beautifully abandoned, just like my house’s perigi buta.
I wonder whether the local men in power would take this environmental issue seriously in order to reflect the goldenness of this town. Putting three giant spotlights around the town is not sufficient, taking into account the needs for the people to enjoy their sightseeing more. Looking at this signpost, I am not sure whether our Tok Guru wants to make a social statement or elicit any political agenda. Maybe both.  Yeah, we are glad and thank you for lighting up our town with those modern spotlights, not with the traditional cahaya bulan.Labels: cekmi's budu roots |
| mused by cekmi @ 12:36 PM |
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| Monday, January 23, 2006 |
| The Curse of The Cursor (Curser?) |
I had a dream last night, bad one. I met the much-scared, Honorable Duke of Linguist in my Java script template.
 Who are you?
I am Cekmi, a freewriter.
You are?
Yes, I am.
Okay Cekmi, define ‘writer’.
Someone who writes.
Okay, so what is ‘write’?
Ehem, according to my Oxford Learner’s Pocket Dictionary, ‘write’ is ‘to mark letters or other symbols on a surface especially with a pen or pencil.’
So, what are you doing now in this blog?
Of course, I am wri…..
Gotcha!
Wait Mr Duke! I know that I am not using my longhand and those traditional modes of actually using pens or lead pencils to physically, traditionally put my thoughts on paper. But literally, I am 100% sure that I am truly a writer.
You see Cekmi, you have been so subtly cursed by the illusion of the cursor you are playing now with your goddamn machine. You think you own a blog you can consider yourself a writer, hah?
*tongue-tied*
And you are sooooo damn sure that you have processed your words and thoughts here all by yourself. And you have a gut to claim that you are so gifted with your classy intuition. But you know what my dear Cekmi?
Yes Mr Duke.
To tell you the truth, those things never work for you. It is your word processor.
What?
Yes, your word processor has been a modern ‘phantom’ that processes, edits, and inspires most of the words you produce in this blog. You are so hooked with this machine for so long you do not seem to notice this at all.
No way! *Chuckle*
My darling, you should sometimes appreciate the art of handwriting. There is something quite special about this. Look at those children of ‘calligraphic cultures’ who regard the art of writing and calligraphy as ‘sacred’!
Hello Mr Duke! I am not doing any calligraphy bullshit here. This is my blog. I write as I please. I am a freewriter.
Listen very carefully young man! You are not a freewriter!!!
Then, who am I?
You are a freetypist! Huahahahaha!!!
*woke up from the dream* Labels: cekmi's sick dramas |
| mused by cekmi @ 10:34 AM |
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| Friday, January 20, 2006 |
| Hangover |
**** Diglossia ********** ***** ****** Code Switching ***** ***** ******** **** Lexical Borrowing ************************** Bilingualism ******** ****** ****** ****** Women's Language ***** ********* Code Choice ***** **** ********** Sexism ****** ********** ****** Code Mixing ****** ******* Multilingualism ********* ***** ***** ******* Solidarity Markers **** *** **** ********* Metaphorical ****** ******* **** **** Social Stereotypes ***** ***** ****** Etymology **** ***** ****** Labov's Studies ******* ******* ***** Hypercorrection ****** ****** ****** *****Lexical Diffusion ****** ******* ****** S-curve Effect ****** ****** ***** ******* Carib Indians ******* ****** ******** Gros Ventre ****** ****** ***** **** ***** Role Differentiations *** ******* **** ***** Variations *** ******* *** *** Err... sorry guys. I am just a little haywired. Just finished my Sociolinguistics mid-term test. They just hang over me. Good weekend everybody! Alamak! *dush* (terlanggar tiang elektrik) Labels: cekmi's stupid acts |
| mused by cekmi @ 7:03 PM |
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| Wednesday, January 18, 2006 |
| Tokens to Romanticize |
Back to KL, I am still feeling a little homesick. Okay, it is a little funny, but it is a little true. I am missing the emotional comfort of being so close with the people who care for me, who know the greyer part of my life, who know that my meal is not complete without the presence of specially-made-in-Binjal sambal. After 15 years, I am still the old Cekmi years ago when I was a pathetic, poetic 15-year-old boy who was craving for the lost familiarity, not wanting to let go of the soothing intimacy. And this feeling is always attached with petty stuffs I can easily find in my suitcases.
Few hours before I began the journey back here last week, my second sister had been acting like my mum, fussy over things my father would cynically take them for granted. Adamant, she managed to put some stuffs into my bag, among others:
Sambal daging
Telur masin
Tepung gomak
Ikan gelama
Gulai darat spice
Seeing her frantically put all these into my travel bag reminded me of my mum. Apparently, she tried very hard to take the place of my mother, and this was painfully heart-rending. Looking back at these little things now doubles the pain, as if the sambal is saying, “Eat me and your sister will be happy,” which is replied by the telur masin, “The sourer I taste, the happier your father will feel.” Then, tepung gomak will insist, “Swallow me to whiten your teeth so your smile will be cuter,” and answered by ikan gelama, “I will guarantee your cheerfulness.” Gulai darat spice then speaks with authority, “I am your family’s favourite, so will be yours.” And I will finally say: “Okay foods, stop talking to me, or else I will eat you guys.”
Things like that.
By the way, looking back at the modest activities during the previous Hari Raya Haji celebration, it was not that bad for a don’t-tell-me-what-to-do family. Despite the suppressed coldness among my siblings, we were able to put aside those obstacles and ended up doing few things that made me a little relieved. I won’t forget the commotion we faced the moment we were preparing satay (not 'sete') outdoor when the rain suddenly started to fall. We were making satay in the middle of the rain! Twenty or thirty years from now, this could be one of the moments to remember.
And those stuffs, unless they are not fed into my stomach, will be tokens to romanticize. Labels: cekmi's hopeless melancholy |
| mused by cekmi @ 12:31 PM |
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| Thursday, January 12, 2006 |
| Er, I am from Binjal... |
Hello! I am from Binjal.
Hah! I said this as if Binjal is so famous like Mawi’s Taib Andak. Well, like it or not, this is the name of my kampung, my place of origin. Located 10 kilometres from Pasir Mas (literally translated as Golden Sand), this kampung is so small it provides sanctuary to only around 30 families. There are three main streets friendly known as ‘alik darat’, ‘alik kelar’ and ‘alik hilir’ (putting these names on the paper for the first time makes them sound so primitive) . My house strategically located in the middle of these roads. So, my father is kinda a public figure, a respected Ustaz Mezoh who knows every single living soul in Binjal.
Binjal definitely keeps thousands of my bittersweet childhood memories. This is the very place where all my physical, spiritual and emotional energy were fully invested for the first fifteen years of my life, the place where I learned my first native language, my mother tongue. (So students, who said that I was brought up in London? All right, I know Lundang is not that far from my kampung, so you got a point there.)
 Well-abandoned well, just next to my house
There are few things that I like about this kampung. First, most people can’t live without budu. So, it tells us that they have all those budu-related traits – friendliness, familiness and togetherness. Second, these people are masjid-bounded. Located in the heart of kampung, many night activities are still masjid-regulated. Third, one hardly finds any places of entertainments here, not even a single restaurant. I bet those who have never been out of here for a long time wouldn’t even know what a cyber cafe is. However, despite its thirldwolrdness, this remoteness would undeniably ensure the preservation of those courtesy value systems the government is trying very hard to portray in not-so-artistic ads on TV.
Well, back to my kampung, there is one thing here that I am not comfortable with. The people’s stereotypical lives have silently established many unwritten rules and policies that in turn expect all the new generations to follow and obey. Of course, there are no Gestapo-like officers to monitor this, but the expectation is overwhelming. Having left my kampung fifteen years ago, I have developed a new rebellious sense of getting things that most people in my kampung wouldn’t approve. Perhaps, I have been imagining all these. But this strong attitude of mine has brought me to certain detrimental level of contempt and aloofness.
It is a pity that after thirty years, I hardly remember people’s names in my kampung. Two days ago, an old man paid a raya visit to my house. I was alone in the living room.
"Assalamualaikum!" "Waalaikumussalam, masuklah pakcik." We shook hands and I went to the kitchen to inform my sister. "Who came?" my sister asked. Not knowing the name of the man, I answered bluntly, "Kawan ayah kot." Immediately, my sister went to see him. "O... Pak Do.." Huh? Pak Do? Pak Do? Pak Do? Hah! (Gasping) Ya Allah, he is my father's uncle! How could I not remember him? Damn Cekmi.
You see, this ignorance was embarrassing. There were many times when I keep refusing my sister’s request to send some kuehs to somebody’s house, not because I was so lazy to do it, but I had no idea who that somebody was, and I was so damn malu to admit that I didn’t know who that fella was. So pathetic. I know.
Despite all these mixed feelings I harbour inside, I love this kampung. This remote one-of-a-kind kampung holds so many precious things I couldn’t even possibly find in any other places in the world, not even in Hollywood or Bollywood. Its serenity, sireh pulang ke gagang sentiments would always remind me who I am, or who I was before. This is my root. And for this reason, wherever I go, I would remember this particular reality.
That I am still from Binjal, not London.
Labels: cekmi's budu roots |
| mused by cekmi @ 5:20 PM |
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| Sacrificed |
I am home, safe and sacrificed.
To all my blogsahabats, though it is kinda late, but considering the continuous, deep meaning of this celebration, and life is more than mere celebration, and everybody needs to be reminded, SELAMAT BERKORBAN (for whatever it implies).
Cheers!Labels: cekmi's gracious wishes |
| mused by cekmi @ 5:01 PM |
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| Friday, January 06, 2006 |
| Political Correctness |
For badmouths out there, take a listen to this very carefully…
If you think you are so clever, don’t call me stupid
‘Knowledge-based nonpossessor’ sounds better
If you think you are so committed, don’t call me lazy
‘Motivationally-deficient’ sounds cooler
If you think you are so sane, don’t call me crazy
‘Mentally-challenged’ sounds kinder
If you think you are so tall, don’t call me short
‘Vertically-challenged’ sounds friendlier
If you think you are so rich, don’t call me poor
‘Financially-deprived’ sounds nicer
You see, people do respect each other these days
And you see, people also name each other so courteously
Even those who collect garbage are called ‘sanitary engineers’
Even those who are jobless are called ‘involuntarily-leisured’
Even those who spray insecticide are called ‘pest control officers’
Even those who handle clerical works are called ‘junior executives’
Even those who perform orang gaji thingy are called 'housekeepers'
And even toilets have their own decent positions in our society
(Excuse me bro, now you can rest your intelligence in a restroom)
Now, what would you call this man in a special chair?
Orang Kurang Upaya? OKU?
Come on guys, learn to be more politically correct, more euphemistic, and less discriminatory. I thought Malay language is so full of berlapikness, but OKU?
Come on DBP, get a life!Labels: cekmi's linguistic fever |
| mused by cekmi @ 8:09 PM |
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| Tuesday, January 03, 2006 |
| Euphoria of 2006 |
 Perhaps New Year’s Eve is the most-awaited evening for mankind at large, considering the hedonistic values the world system has successfully imparted in their indulgent minds, and assuming that they need this particular eve to make their resolutions renewable and doable.
By the way, the euphoria is inevitably unstoppable. Many people, on a common ground, do need this eve to add the exhilaration in life. Having spent my New Year day in KLCC and Genting Highlands truly awakened my unbecoming mind to certain level of insightful mentalities. Matter-of-factly, the 12 mid-night boom-bang moments in KLCC reminded me that we need more bright colours, uncontrollable noises and uncompromising chaos to move things up superbly, so that we are able to attain things in life.
Similarly, Genting Highlands showed me the desperate need for high ecstasy in my waking life. The mind-boggling roller coaster and heart-stopping Space Shot taught my fragile spirit that life is at stake up there, until you conquer your fear and go on in life. Indeed, several deadly seconds after being pushed down from Space Shot, I felt like being shot in the wide space, and I made a vow to myself that my next resolutions must be fulfilled the soonest possible, while there is time. So, well done Genting Highland! Here is my heartfelt congratulation to Genting Management - your motto is just perfect: “Fun at the peak” (until you get peed!)
On a serious note, I do need this celebration to remind myself that I am turning 30, and that I must achieve things that I am longing for. To be sure, this year propels the good spirit to accomplish three big things in my life.
1. Own a second transportation means (target: June)
2. Graduate with CGPA 3.500 and above (target: August)
3. Make a move professionally (target: December)
And I got this really beautiful, stimulating new-year wish from a good friend:
“May the fleas of a thousand camels infest the a** of the person who f***s up your year and may his arms grow too short to scratch his own a**! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
Labels: cekmi's inspiring adventures |
| mused by cekmi @ 2:39 PM |
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