I'm leaving the country in four hours from now. I don't know if it's permanent or not, but I'm not leaving my cat behind, just in case.
Tell you the truth, I'm as sad and terrified as I am excited about going. What if I don't make it out there? What if I don't have the stuff to keep me from falling back to this 'comfort zone' that I'm so used to? What if, after all the fuss to keep me from coming back here, I realize that this is HOME?
I've heard lots of people congratulating me for leaving in the last week. As much as I've heard people lamenting it. Everyone wishes me luck, though, I just don't know if that's all it takes: A slice of Lady Fortuna's cake.
Anyhow, even if I do come back, I know that I can at least gloat about the fact that I've tried to break the barriers and do what a lot of people wonder about. Whatever the results may turn out to be, there's no denying that what I'm doing now is just another step in actualizing myself. It could be a wrong step. But it's a step that I'm putting my whole mind and heart into it. And that's all that matters right now.
So, Mr. Head and Aadi, if you're reading this, consider the fact that it doesn't matter where you live or what choices you're stuck with. The question is, are you living your life being true to yourself? Are you sincere in what you're doing?
Because in the end of the day, the ONLY point of our life, in working, in living, in learning, is Ibadah (All acts of worship for Him).
Please take care of yourselves.
Does it take only words to destroy or build everything?
When God said, “let there be light”, did He also set the general rule to how words are going to affect His creations?
There is a bunch of powerful words used in human interactions that bonds or separates, does or undoes. Words like “I do”, or “I divorce you”, are stuck in my mind right now. I didn’t think that just by saying “I do” people automatically transfigure into the perfect couples. Just as I think that by saying “I divorce you” doesn’t dissolve a marriage.
But it does mark the beginnings and endings, doesn’t it?
One way or another, words are all that it takes to define the beginnings of beginnings, and the endings of ends. Words cannot dissolve hurts and disappointments, children and assets, memories and longing; but – boy – those things sure get fortified in multitudes with the more words spent on them. Imagine saying, “I’m a chicken” few hundred times a day, chances are that by the end of the month you’d be fainting in every Tazaj and Albaik restaurant where you see your relatives on your plate.
So the possible reason why some marriages don’t work is because some couples forget to repeat the words that they started their marriages with. “I love you as you are, and I’ll be with you till I die, whether you like it or not.”
What’s so sad is that, despite of its irreversible finality, and because they’re so filled with the sense of hollow, words of endings seem to echo more persistently than any other word every spoken or thought about. “I miss you. I’m sorry. I’m leaving. Goodbye.”
Neighbor’s girl has been coming to our house every day for the past week.
Pardon my lack of posting. I have been disoriented.
Husband knows of my overly-suppressed bisexuality. So he makes the initiative to invite neighbor's girl over, you know, to use the computer and stuff. He actually enjoys seeing my disgruntled look over her presence; either I get her on the floor, or I throw her out of the nearest window.
Today, Neighbor’s girl took off her abaya and headdress as soon as she got into the house. At least today she’s not wearing a tank top to make it harder for me not to stare at those milky shoulders and arms and…cleeeeeavage.
Neighbor’s girl pulls a chair to sit beside me. She’s freaking just 20 cm away from me.
My stomach turns into a block of ice. Eyes glued on laptop’s screen, stylus furiously clicking from one embarrassing webpage to the next, and here’s this horny teenager subtly offering herself to me.
She leans from behind me and the alarms go off. I cussed quietly, “Damn bitch, this table is 180cm wide, and she couldn’t find a way to put the phone away without pressing those 34-C boobs on my head?”
She reaches to hug me. Quick! Brainstorm solutions to get me out of this!
a) I could hug her back, which definitely would lead into feeling her breasts, her ass and what’s between her legs. Then after an hour of that and some more, maybe we could feed Lay’s Potato Chips off each other’s nipples and stuff.
b) I could just gently move away from her hand, and keep all limbs and gazes limited to the handles of my computer chair. Definitely a more reasonable option.
Except that when I did option b), I almost slapped her arm raw, flipped her off the chair, and made me wish for an option c).
She notices my discomfort, but then totally blunders in figuring out why I’m so frigid in my chair. She squeals in that spoiled, seductive tone, “Hey, I’m so sorry that I’m bothering you like this,”
“Hey, don’t mention it. You’re sole purpose in my life is to take advantage of my kindness anyways. So, whatever.” Yeah, baby, throw the rotten eggs at me now!
Neighbor’s girl is taken aback from cold bluntness. She coos and whimpers, she packs her things, and is very glad that her brothers or boyfriend demand her to come back downstairs where all the genetically-no-brain-gifted people dwell.
I keep my limbs closely glued to my chair until I’m sure I can hear my fantasies walk away for another 24-hours break.
I take a deep sigh and get off my chair and walk away from the livingroom. I lucidly curse the husband for putting me through temptation, despite knowing how susceptible I am for sin. I thank Heavens for still make 'em like the neighbor's girl. If I make it like this without breaking my leash through Summer, I should get discounted mental therapy sessions for it.