If only

I am more firm in my stance.


I have more courage in my action.


I’m more optimistic in my chances.


I’m practically procrastinating at work, like a vegetable on a life-support, not knowing how to survive but apparently am breathing, not knowing what to eat but apparently not hungry.


Survival. It’s a strong word. used as an excuse and as a purpose.


I kill to survive = excuse.


I eat to survive = purpose.


Everyday, I survive another day. I am morbid. I think about death all the time. what if I just swerve unknowingly while doing 100kmph. I could skid and crash on the divider, flip my kembara, do a total chinese action movie stunt and die with my parents finding out how I died – while busy struggling to light my gudang garam stick in the car. yes. horror. no. I’m not quitting.


Then, I would leave my family with not fond memories. but the revelation of my excessive smoking habits, my secretly owned credit card (plus its unpaid debt) and other vices. hence, parents would resent to mourn for my death. less number pf people crying. less popularity. hurm. yeah, as if my superlatives status would grant me better place up there, or down there. hehehe.


My car’s timing belt should be replaced. my fast-speeding driving habit should be suspend. my pocket have no money. hence. yeah. surviving by the minute. I have got 5 sticks left. thanked god tomorrow puasa. well, puasa doesn’t mean no need to buy kembara’s petrol or pay toll. will do vacuuming around the house for small change. will probably not. will have no time. will smith.


I’m rambling. I like to ramble. ramble mumble. mumble jumble. then, like cookie we crumble.


Last night, I went to join the KLickr group for a documentary screening of a war photographer named James Natchwey – (refer http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Nachtwey and http://www.jamesnachtwey.com/). It was great. Thank you to Syahrin Aziz and Shafina who organised the screening at Click! Go Live! Experience! Centre in Damansara Utama.


But from my experience and knowledge in war. my dad was an army officer. and his stories serving under the United Nation in constructing the government for East Timor in 2002/2003; and my recent involvement with the Perdana Global Peace Forum earlier this year, war …. is something, indescribable by words. nor pictures. it comes full pledge for the human’s sense – seeing, hearing, listening, and most of all – SMELLING. the war smell completes everything, the whole experience of war. you see bombs flying here and there, you see tears, but can you endure the smell??????? the smell of corpse lying everywhere. and also, when the bomb explodes, the earth shakes. you can see that on the screen from the comfort of your peaceful home. but can you really face the sudden trembling of the earth, scared of the massive destruction human is doing to her?


When I was young, post Bosnia + Gaza strip ordeal and post Selubung, I’ve always wanted to work for the United Nation. I wanted to be there and help, do what I can do for the worn torn countries. As I grew up, it got diverted to the dream of being a News Correspondence. I practiced reading news out loud and making commentaries in my room. But when I got to know news reading must come with a gorgeous face, I shut off the dream and came back to reality. To be in the TV Industry, be it in front or behind the camera, you must be a total looker. unfortunately, I can’t groom. Hence, I know I couldn’t stand a chance.


Yeah. if only ….. I was …. whatever.


When I joined this Foundation, the first day interview, when boss asked me why I would want to work with an NGO, I told her, I’m aspired to work for the United Nations and this is just a step there.


I remembered when I first went to my Toastmasters meeting, I was called in front to give a impromptu speech on a table topic. it was about what I want to do in life. I was shaking out of my stage fright, talking about how I wanted to be a humanitarian. my evaluator told me that despite every flaw, I was talking from my heart which was communicated to everyone there.


Yeah. if only ….. they know ….. what a hypocrite I am.


I’m leaving the Foundation for something that differs from my passion.


in means of survival.


be it an excuse or a purpose.


but …. if only …. I’m not in such denial.

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