I realized I have been writing this for someone, regardless of whether there are two or five of you out there 
*thank you for reading these little humble writings* Life has taken a turn where everyone is judge and my need to express has been held back. So I decided to give myself another avenue to lash out and feel, on another private blog until the acid neutralize.
Kind of redeeming whatever that I have inside here *points to heart*
Have a nice day!
Hana with her Tokki
Fresh farm chicken eggs made into ‘telur setengah masak’. Tasted slightly ‘tangier’ than the eggs I usually have in KL.
It’s been awhile since I went back to Terengganu. If I remember correctly, it must have been when my Tokki passed away three years ago. Since then, our kampung house had been demolished to expand the Bukit Raja mosque across where our house used to be. Thus, there really wasn’t any place to go in Terengganu any more.
However, a home will always be a home at heart no matter where you go, no matter if it’s not there anymore. I went back to Terengganu, relishing the keropok lekor, telur ayam kampung separuh masak, laksa putih terengganu, nasi dagang and ikan patin tempoyak, fondly recalling the times we used to spent here with cousins, parents and of course, grandparents.
The beautiful kampung scene.
Abang Ijat’s kampung is a proper one. With proper, it means it fits the mental image of a kampung in my mind. That is, roosters will always crow in the morning and have a groupie of round hens clucking and flocking him, while he walks like king. Abang Ijat’s father bought a whole -herd? school? group?- of chickens called “Ayam Israel”. I don’t know why they’re called that but I do know they are HUGE. They’ve got drumstick that would pass for your normal half-roasted chicken.
These white ducks are bought for Hana by her Tokki. 
The sacrifice.
The 20 km/hour jam going back to KL. Joy.
So glad to have gone back to Terengganu, to a kampung that I have sorely missed. Thank you to Abang Ijat’s family whom were all so welcoming
Now raise your hand if you ever felt the urge or need to do something to change the world?
*raise hand*
And keep it raised if you acted on the wonderful ideas that comes to your mind and make it a reality?
*sheepishly put my hand down*
In the course of our lives, I find it easy to get so caught up in work that charity begins to dwindle down to giving the couple of odd dollars to the less fortunate walking around in restaurants when you eat.
I realized this and thus try to make an effort of doing something charitable every once a week, or do something extra beyond the accidental events of giving few dollars when people in need passed by.
This is why, when I found out about THE HOPE FACTORY, a company that was raised by a friend, to address Malaysian social issues and raising awareness about it through giving back from the proceeds they make from goods that they sell, my first reaction was of joy that someone had executed her goodwill and ideas into something solid for all of us to benefit from.
The really cool thing about THE HOPE FACTORY is the awareness it raises. If you go to their websites, you would find a chronicle of their charity or volunteering events, and also posts on various issues like cancer awareness, inspirational stories and other volunteering news.
If you go to their website, THE HOPE FACTORY, you will be pleasantly bombarded with six different issues that the company aims to support:
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THAREK THAREK!!! from shamin sahrum on Vimeo.
Song : Elevator Love Letter by STARS
Last weekend was spent with Sam and his studio mates helping out a welfare home for orphans and the poor, and also by the beach at Tanjung Tuan playing kites and swim this video is made by Sam capturing the events that took place.
The sea was so beautiful,my heart seemed to burst at every sights of the night and day.
#
In the darkness of the night, when the ocean reveal its stories
in the ribbed sands of waves etched in the sea bed under our feet,
we walked the sea, its water deep into the darkness of another foreign land,
leaving behind the glorious world it stomachs in the day.
The sky is darkness that consumes the worry of the heart,
littered with perfect constellations above our heads.
The people at the beach threw blue lights at it,
like electric fairies dancing around with gait.
Bonfires erected, and we bring light and warmth to a world that is our own.
The night belonged to us, like it never had before.
The breath and pulse of the night exhume a primal emotion from deep within me.
To relish in this sweet freedom, in the free wind and sleeping with the stars amidst the trees.
To find copulating crabs and chasing fishes from the bright light of our torch.
To dance on the cool white sand, by the rhythm of the guitars and singing.
To greedily devour the sight for as far as the eyes can see.
To greedily relish the fresh ocean breeze.
To let go of responsibilities, to cherish the present, to delight and to hold on forever.
That night, the world was ours.
Spent last weekend at the beach.
Swam in the sea for a good two hours and now my skin is peeling. But, apparently the new skin emerging from the peel feels really soft and looks poreless. Maybe this is the skin therapy I’ve been looking for? Scorch it till it turns to new skin?!
Beach weekend was a project done my Sam’s studio. Will blog soon. This is him in Bangkok, couple of weeks ago. Yes, their studio have lots of fun.
November (dubbed Movember because it’s going to be active) will be the final phase of which I shall stop expanding so much and start back-stepping my way through the weighing scale back to November 2010, when I started working a year ago and 7 kg lighter!!
Right now, no matter how much I exercise, the numbers only move in small margin, bouncing back to its initial weight so easily, I might as well not move an inch the day before.
But shucks, I guess I do feel healthier and all that. Or maybe the weighing scale is broken. My nephew jumps on it all the time anyway.
Plus, this month, I’ve got netball tournament to train for! Yeay! I never really played netball in my schooling years (152cm – apparently too short. Whatever.) so am pleasantly surprised to enjoy it so much.
I’ve been trying to find ways to jump a little higher. Because the other girls are abnormally tall. I mean, dude, the average height for ladies in Malaysia is 149cm (fact). If you’re 170cm +++, that’s freaking European!!! Go play in the international league or something!!
I am opting for these:
Wear it with long track pants, and I be European tall. Score!
She’s floating 6-inches off the ground.
Read it.
It will make you hyperventilate but continue anyway.
The first four paragraphs was enough to make my heart beat and shut the book to calm my hyperventilation as the author described graphically how the protagonist, Pietro Brwna, popped a mugger’s elbow, elaborating the sweet details of the ulna and ligaments disentangling and where the bones shift.
I thrashed around howling, trying to make that tingling feeling in the stomach go away. Like when my mother told the story of how my baby sister jumped from the bed onto a three-pin plug and it went right into her foot.
TINGLES RIGHT THROUGH THE CORE!
Tingles are aplenty in this book. Action-packed but not in your face gangsterism or adolescent juvenile stuff. Some critic say it’s almost Quentin Tarantino-esque but I will not offend any of his fans although I have to say it’s almost agreeable.
Basically, it’s about a mafia-cum-doctor, on a witness protection programme, with skeletons in the closet on the hunt for him and a dying patient who he needs to live in his hands, a religious Catholic girlfriend who survived a night in a shark tank with him and lots of drugs, gang initiation rites and bloods along the way. House MD meets The Godfather. And Leonardo DiCaprio will play his role.
You will learn darkly humorous hospital regime and medicinal true facts. Like, do you know you can perfectly survive without your shinbone?
The last chapter of this book sent me reeling into a shaken mass of fright. First four paragraphs times 10 folds. I had to shut the book for a moment, shake my body of more goosebumps tingles from the graphic description of pain while punching cushions and leather sofa.
Shark tanks, don’t forget. Bear claws that could look like a female hand when skinned. Ukrainian girls, 14-years-olds carted off for prostitutions. Auschwitz twisted heroic tale. And amazing characters.
Okay, I won’t spoil it too much. You can surf the web for lots of spoiler but why would you do that to yourself?!
Go read it. It’s really good it has its own website (haha what?).
It’s going to be cult.
My attempt to inspire F at living simply and being happy with what we have.
____________________________________________________________________________
From: Kautsar Abd Rahman
Sent: Wednesday, October 05, 2011 12:12 PM
To: F
Subject:
Cup Or Coffee?
A group of graduates, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor.
Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.
Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups – porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite – telling them to help themselves to the coffee.
When all the students had a cup of coffee, the professor said: “If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the simple and cheap ones.While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee.
In most cases, it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink.What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you.Consciously went for the best cups… Then you began eyeing each other’s cups.
Now consider this:
- Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups.
- They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of Life we live.
- Sometimes, by concentrating on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee God has provided us. Enjoy your coffee!.
“The happiest people don’t have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything.”
MoralsAndEthics.Livesimply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Leave the rest to God.
Your life either shines a light OR casts a shadow!
Shine a light & Enjoy the Coffee!
Sincerely,
Kautsar Abd Rahman
____________________________________________________________________________
From: F
Sent: Wednesday, October 05, 2011 12:20 PM
To: Kautsar Abd Rahman
Subject: RE:
Awwwwwwwwww that’s really sweet. Maybe we can have our coffee break after work with ice blended mocha @ coffee bean. And tripledecker cheesecake as well. Yumss
___________________________________________________________________________
From: Kautsar Abd Rahman
Sent: Wednesday, October 05, 2011 2:00 PM
To: F
Subject: RE:
F, takde kene mengena langsung. =_=+
____________________________________________________________________________
From: F
Sent: Wednesday, October 05, 2011 2:02 PM
To: Kautsar Abd Rahman
Subject: RE:
Well, it’s a metaphor. But if we go to Coffee Bean, we’ll get equal container. Hmmm food for thought 
____________________________________________________________________________
From: Kautsar Abd Rahman
Sent: Wednesday, October 05, 2011 2:02 PM
To: F
Subject: RE:
Metaphor fails in this case against you.