The Art of Not Giving A Rat's Ass

If there's one thing that I should start mastering, it should be 'The Art of Not Giving A Rat's Ass."

Here's why;

I can't please everyone. 

No matter how hard you try, there will always be that one person who will give himself the liberty to underline and italicize your slightest boo boo or imperfections. He'll say it's 'constructive criticism' that should be taken with a dash of salt.

I say it's a stomach-ulcer flare-up agent.


Hey, don't get me wrong. A slice of well-delivered constructive criticism is indeed essential for one's personal growth. But ceaseless unsolicited, ill-timed constructive criticism? Tell me that doesn't feel like you've been bludgeoned with a demotivating mjolnir. Destructive criticism, more like.

If I can't pull the plug on the depressing hammer, then I should just put my iron suit on, and chant the lyrics to the song Titanium.

So Many, So Little

I haven't had the time to sit down and arrange my thoughts to be put on my blog. Too busy? Not really. I just have so many things to say. Too many events sailing in and out of my head. And so little motivation.

I hate it when ideas come flowing in while you're on the throne, or when you're chowing down that handsome burger or when you're in the middle of a butt-scorching meeting with your boss.The ideas just dissipate the moment you flush, burp and told that s(he) wants to jab you in the face all the way to Vegas for not executing the job accordingly.
 *The direct translation is "Aku nak tumbuk kau sampai Vegas." Metaphorically. So no worries.

Oh, and I left the lazy part out didn't I? Yep. I keep going on and on about not being motivated to do this or that... Damn man. Even I feel like jabbing myself in the face. That's just too many excuses for one puny matter.

So, anyway, people say that no matter how many truck-load of books you read, you still won't be able to be a great writer if you don't cough out your ideas in writing. It takes practice. And I need a lot of practice. And that sucks. Do you see the pattern here? I'm on the verge of another justification.

Well, it's 7.00am here in Kuala Lumpur, my car is still dead in the workshop, and I haven't showered yet.

Yeah, Helga. I'll tell you about that later. Probably when I'm not battling an army of evil chocolates that perennially breed and eat my candies!

The Heart, On Standby

I knew that this moment would come.

This is the moment when your heart feels like it's on the verge of cracking. It's at that familiar place again. And you're on standby mode to hit the panic button, where the walls will shoot back up again, and seal all doors.

The Little Hijrah

[ 1:1 ]

A string of things happened, and I didn't have time to update everything on my blog. Some probably too personal, and even if I tried to tell you about it, it wouldn't make utter sense anyway.

I never finished Part 2 of my little hijrah. I didn't know where to start, but since I'm at it right now, I might as well just keep it rolling, huh?

I struggled. A lot.

My prayers (solat) and my attitude towards covering up was a bit of an emotional roller coaster ride. Too many resistance at one point, but I managed to muster all of my courage and put things into place, with His help and a dear friend's encouragement, the Al-Quran became no more of a stranger to me. It's a long ride, and I'm not even half way through, but I've got Him to 'hold my hand', and I've never felt safer in my life than I am today.

Al-Hamdulillah... :)

When The Big Guy Listens...

A friend posted this on his Facebook page.

So profound.

Indeed, it's all [1:2].

:)

"Someone dear to me once said that we should always try to use our God given talent to spread His word to the masses. Maybe through songs, through pictures that we take, through whatever it is that we can use since the age where anything's possible is here and there's a lot more we can do to be closer to Him.

Never had I thought it's possible, but I realized that I can use this as a tool of conveying messages of good throughout.

It can be referring to your own religion no matter what or who you believe, it doesn't matter. It's just my own take on this. If you feel the same towards your own, then at least we share something in common. To believe.

However, people will always take it either way because that's just who we are. We've been brought up a certain way where we have sets of belief system we keep lying around to save our own hide when things get rough, or when situations presents itself to challenge our very core.

No matter what, this is just a projection of what I feel now. A little bit closer. Maybe you can relate. Maybe you don't. It doesn't matter really. What matters is you never give up on hope or faith. Because the littlest of hope can be a start of a bigger achievement in your life and in everything you do.

A trigger to be better.

Closer

When times are hard, and the cold is just too much to bear,
You held on tight and You showed how much You cared,
I didn't see it, I didn't want to believe,
Even if it hits, Even if it wasn't brief.

I was alone, I felt left,
Lies was sown, Heart bereft,
But You were there, You didn't leave,
Through the nightmare, even through the rift.

I refused and I retaliated,
Situations diffused and events documented,
But You kept on track, You were always around,
Kept pulling me back, keeping me safe and sound.

At times I felt it, I sensed Your presence,
Refused it, Rejected the essence,
But You kept on going, You showed persistence,
Even what I was doing, displayed much resistance.

Now I see, now I understand,
You've set me free, You've changed this man,
Plenty more to go, plenty more to learn,
To reap what You've sowed, to believe and finally return."

A Little Prayer For You

Dear God,

The progress is beyond my expectations. :')

Thank you again for listening.

...and thank you for surrounding me with your best angels.


:)


So much Love;
Maylin

Me; The Bouncing Potato

I started mildly hyperventilating as soon as I drove into the car park. I prayed to God for 'coolness' and a tablespoon of confidence. (Really? Tablespoon? I'm pretty sure it was a big mixing bowl of confidence that I prayed for.)

The last thing I want is to act like a clutz.

I went straight to the restroom to check my hair.
And my teeth.
And my make-up.
...and my bum.
Well, you see, the back of my skirt of the dress I was wearing suddenly skimmed upwards. I knew it. The dress shrank! That darn detergent.

I said a little prayer as I walked towards the place. I swear to God, my heart popped out of my chest, made a loop-de-loop and bounced right back into my rib cage.

I arrived.

...and I saw sunshine.

We exchanged smiles, and said "Hi!"
No wait. I said "Hi!" and waved like a retarded bouncing potato. He just smiled back and did the hand gesture that celebrities do when a smitten fan waves frantically at them. You know that 'power-of-the-hand' partial-wave people do when you give them way on the road. Yes, that!
That partial-wave and awkward grin made my freaking day.

*facepalm*

So uncool.
So.
Very.
'So-very-the' we Malaysians love to say.



Damn. My armpits are wet.