Monday, August 28, 2006

Another nugget before Global Eco.


I was browsing through my blogroll (take a look, yourself!).

I came across Fitri @ Zumindar.

And it strikes me.

Is there something all that different with our 're-education'?

Why is it, that compared to me, he doesn't seem to lose the beat now and then?

Where have I gone wrong?

Why has Syaaban not become my struggle, and Ramadhan my dream?


Have I encapsulated the world in my heart and refuse to give it up?


Is there that bit of resistance left within?


Remind me, friends. Over again.


this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 3:05 pm


Bits of random.

Assalamualaikum wrh. wbt.

I am not feeling too hot...

... and it has nothing to do with my home-made lunch (spinach noodles in 'hentam' gravy... bro Yasser, do not take the name literally).

I'm just awfully homesick.

I don't usually rant on about my personal problems. Okay, maybe I did once. But then I found that it was out of order, and decided to remove it (sorry again, bro Yasser).

But now. Maybe now I can rant. A bit.

Things here are confusing. There are politics, psychological tricks, and maybe even some human resource management involved (guess what my next Management assignment is about? :)).

It's all so tiring.

That, combined with all the hangat-hangat issues propping up like mushrooms after a heavy shower, back in Malaysia, makes me feel a little out of touch with reality. Siti's marriage feels surreal. Mawi is in a pitiful state. His fiancee is having a media ball. Israel has ordered German missiles with a precision rate that I am scared to memorize.

Do you know that there is a lot of bad going on in the world out there, not very far from your reach?

I know it, at least. Although the trivial things are much more attractive and less shocking to the nerve system. Doesn't it make you feel bad, when you purposely roll over the new on the Iraqi deathtoll to read up on Tom Cruise's latest horrible public faux pas?

I cannot cry while reading the news again. Or while watching it. I have had enough of swollen eyes at 7 am when I am rushing for Genetics & Evolution at 8 am. Looking forlorn is slightly difficult to explain.

I cannot help it, though.

I talk with my dad about my many assignments, but it's not the same as having him here, talking me through the whole process as we drive around PJ and KL on his many errands.

I want to tag on to my mother to her religious classes at the local mosque, where I am instantly conforted and engulfed by the maternal strengths of all the aunties combined.

I want to yell at brother before giving him his souvenirs. He doesn't talk to me often enough on the phone as it is. I have to yell at someone, and have someone yell at me back.

Oh dear. Don't cry. Not now, not in the uni computer lab with 30 other people present.

I want to meet my cousin Yusuf, and my uncle Yusuf, and my nephew Aiman, and my cousin Aiman, and my cousins the Adibs and the Sitis and the Farahs and the Omars and the SA/AS's and the Saws and the entire entourage. SMSs do not cut it at all.

I want to feel safe and warm. At home. Which, as much as Melbourne is familiar to me, it simply cannot beat.

Sigh. Global Ecology with Doc Ian Thomas soon. At least he's offered to look for the appropriate lighting and soundtracks for the lectures on biomes. That would be nice.

And the trek in the RBG tomorrow should be nice as well.

"Surely, with each difficulty there is ease; With each difficulty there is ease." (94: 5-6)

Ah. Flowers from the Quran for all. Spring is approaching.


this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 2:34 pm


Friday, August 25, 2006

I love Melbourne...


  1. Of the ukhuwah fillah. I highly doubt I would be able to feel so dependent on as many people as I am here. Back when I was confused on how to go about living life as I had learnt it to be, these people brought balance into my life. They are my walking memos, and my breathing knowledge vaults. They are my agony aunties and my iron chef crew. We remember together, and we cry together. Abadan abada, insyaAllah. I will miss you all most when I am home.
  2. Of UniMelb. My wonderfully sarcastic lecturers who never talk down to us, my brilliant tutors who motivate us and trigger our stagnant thoughts, and the ever-passionate lab demonstrators -- I will miss calling such revered people by their first names. You have taught me a zest for learning I simply cannot imagine seeing anywhere else.
  3. The climate allows me to wear the coats, beanies, and mufflers I was so obsessed with, back in Malaysia. Covering your aurah has never been so easy :) You can see the seasons go by, and marvel at the wonders Allah has made, not without purpose. Faqina azhabannar...
  4. The public transport and the road engineering gives us no excuse to be lazy and rot in our rooms. I cannot imagine going back to Subang for three months and not being able to go out for a stroll in the city by myself. Melbourne is small and safe and shuts down by 6pm. Pedestrians are the city's assets, and boy, do the drivers know this.
  5. Where else can you find milk in every flavour imaginable? Let me get your tastebuds rolling with banana, latte, and cookies 'n' creme... Yum. I used to be psychologically lactose intolerant. Now I'm not so sure.
  6. The cafe culture is catchy, but necessary. There is nothing like a cappucino or a hot choc in between your Genetics lecture and the corresponding tute to help sustain you until noon, in winter. And alhamdulillah, Australian coffee does not give my nerves a shock, unlike Malaysian coffee, which gives me tremors within hours.
  7. Melbourne is a gorgeous place. Where else can you sit for an exam in a World Heritage Site, and visit the gorgeous rocks that killed some boat-travelling people 2 centuries ago? :D Am looking forward to Global Ecology lab at the Royal Botanical Gardens, as guided by demonstrator Michael. At least then, I won't get lost.
  8. The gelato and ice-cream are definitely something to miss.
  9. I just handed in my Management assignment, and finished my Chem test. There is almost nothing in this world I cannot love. :))
  10. I know that living Melbourne is Allah's great gift to me. My Lord simply wants me to learn to love, miss, share, tolerate and grow. I can't complain.

Have a great weekend.


this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 2:54 pm


Monday, August 14, 2006

Begging of you.

Assalamualaikum wrh.wbt.

Before I run to a class further decribing the nature of soil (yes; it's real fun, learning about your origin), I'd like to share this with you.

Full article may be found here.

For fans of Sophie's World (I am not one myself; haven't read the book):

I like your author. :)

Excerpted from

Calm and mercy

'We do not recognize the state of Israel. Not today, not as of this writing, not in the hour of grief and wrath. If the entire Israeli nation should fall to its own devices and parts of the population have to flee the occupied areas into another diaspora, then we say: May the surroundings stay calm and show them mercy. It is forever a crime without mitigation to lay hand on refugees and stateless people.

Peace and free passage for the evacuating civilian population no longer protected by a state. Fire not at the fugitives! Take not aim at them! They are vulnerable now like snails without shells, vulnerable like slow caravans of Palestinian and Lebanese refugees, defenseless like women and children and the old in Qana, Gaza, Sabra, and Chatilla. Give the Israeli refugees shelter, give them milk and honey!

Let not one Israeli child be deprived of life. Far too many children and civilians have already been murdered. '

The words strongly resemble those of Salahuddin al-Ayubi, who fought against the Crusaders during Richard the Lionheart's reign, upon persuasion of the Arabs of Jerusalem who begged him to take hold of al-Quds (I recommend Saladin and the Crusades to anyone keen on learning more - the movie is pretty corny, but quite good).

Islami ya Quds.

How Salahuddin would cry if he were alive today, Allahu'alam.


this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 2:41 pm


Saturday, August 12, 2006

"Can this be truly it?": the sequel to 'Mengingati kisah silam...'

Assalamualaikum wrh. wbt.

I was browsing through my old files, trying to clear them out and clean my hard disk as I was reading my Management text by Prof Danny Samson (management consultant to Petronas, and thus, highly frequent flier to Malaysia - I am very jealous) and making notes on Operations Management AND listening to Bilal Philip's lecture on Marriage in Islam (I needed a light topic to listen to as I worked --> asif, Kak Aini :)).

When I came across this (scroll a little lower. Right).

I take it that some people will be very glad to read the continuation to this here post.

Go ahead:


Can this be truly it?

When your heart says “please?” and your mind steadfastly says “no”, and the rest of you is waiting for the two to make up their minds so you can actually move in his presence? Can that truly be the deciding point for you to know that once again, you have fallen down the old, winding rabbit hole, and that looking out into ordinary sunshine will be the most difficult thing you may ever perceive?

Questions upon questions lead you nowhere, because all you want is to get there. And you become so self-absorbed in him and you that selfish guilt is a constant companion. That may be truly the turning point for you.

And I should know? No, not really. Because I don’t, and I somehow doubt that I will ever achieve that state of delirium at the sight of a single person.

But then again, there he is. He smiles, and the world seems right. And he laughs, and the world is perfect. But he doesn’t look your way, and you mope the rest of the day. Other than the fact that it rhymes, nothing quite appeals to you anymore.

So maybe I know a thing or two about it.

Crushes are dangerous things. They’re particularly dangerous when you don’t know where they will lead. At least with stories, you know that they will remain inside, all for the shaping of your dreams in their made-up little lives. But reality – it’s stark-true. It’s not make-believe. It hurts and bleeds, and you hurt and bleed with it.

So you don’t want to risk anything. You want to play safe, and hide, and act nonchalant, when you actually feel like jumping up and down from the walls, swinging on your head until you fall and hurt your crown, and maybe then you’ll wake up.

Before that, everything else is pointless. Or so you think.

Carpe diem. Seize the day. Seize the moment – the opportunity that you don’t even expect; that you never even felt was right. Carpe this and carpe that.

Those are easy words to say, but hard to follow.

And I should know?

Well, yes.

Listen carefully. This is my story. Our story, actually. But when you are as deep in as I was, any story that you can even claim partially for yourself quickly becomes yours, and yours alone. A reason I hated feeling like this was because it made me feel weak and emotional, selfish and helpless. Like what I own is not mine anymore.

This is my story.


He wasn’t the type you would fall for at first sight. Surely, he grabs your attention, and most definitely your sight, and holds it for more than the allotted half-second, when you first come across him. Then he begins to do things that cannot remain unignorable at any rate, and you dismiss him as another quirky person with a penchant for high doses of caffeine at the earliest hour of the morning.

At least, that was my perception of him.

He was infamous in my books for his absurd logic and flagrant flaunting of all laws, be it grammatical or legislative. He lived for the moment, for the second, for the instant. And maybe that’s what drew me to him. I started spending more time with him, and we spent many minutes chatting and discussing things of no particular importance. But all that changed when I finally figured out, that in between comparing everything from favourite cartoons to life principles, I had fallen for him.

Everybody says that there is always a specific moment when you know. You never know when the agonizing torture happens, but the realization that it has dawns on you in a very momentous second. Life spins for a while around you, almost whirling like a pool of rain at the bottom of a lake, and when it settles down, you are left with an almost proud epiphany that at that moment, you have changed. Regardless, you will never be the same again. At that point in time, you don’t know whether to rejoice or cry. Because you don’t know how all this will end. The suspense, and the fervour is probably what drives all teenaged crushes.

So now you start acting weird around him. Your heart and soul are split into two – wanting him to know, and wanting to burrow deep down within your emotional quandary and hibernate until it’s gone. Being realistic, of course, you face him, each and every day. Each and every day. It’s a struggle. Your attempts at keeping cool are sniffed out by your prying, yet well-meaning friends. They intervene with your reluctant permission. Most times they don’t intervene at all, because they know better than you.

They knew that it wasn’t going to work.

Many secrets were kept hidden from me. He didn’t like me. He didn’t care. Not the way I did; maybe not at all. When the truth struck out, I felt victimised. I felt that he was cruel, unreasonable, had no heart. My voice of reason dictated how I moved and acted around him. But my heart and mind?

They were out of control.

Keeping in mind, this is our story. Likely you have felt this too: When people talk, every word, syllable, never mind sentence, reminds you of something he has said. Disregarding the fact that most all human beings you know communicate using the same vocab and the same language, you still regard this as a sign that your heart will never heal. You wallow in songs of those tirelessly in love. They relate to you; they feel the pain you’re suffering through. They’ll help you through. You cry yourself to sleep sometimes. Some nights, you dream of him. When that arduous song that reminds you of him plays on the air, your brain stops thinking, it seems. Your heart sways. Your mind slowly drifts apart. Your soul relishes in the oft-glorified pain.

You tell yourself: “This is what Love is.”


But it’s not. That’s not what love is at all. Love is acceptance, and patience, and kindness, and graciousness, and faith. Faith, that all you endure together is something that will add to the sweetness of the ecstasy that we humans label so plainly as ‘love’.

We tend to forget that the greatest Love we have received is in our creation. That God had thought to let us experience this rich life, when He could so easily deprive us of it. That we have found the will to live. That we are given treasure upon treasure of memories and mementoes of happiness. That we are given trials that test our will and build us into stronger souls.

Are these not all tokens of Love?

It’s hard now for me to imagine falling in love with another human being. I have found that crushes were something I had entrapped and enclosed myself into. I had practically pushed myself under the sand by repeatedly reinforcing the flattered fancy of my own ego that I had mistaken for love. And for what?

Pain? Emotional overhaul? Mental anguish?

Surely I deserved better. And I do.

And now I have found that I already owned that greater Love. It was already within my grasp. I had just never looked at it closely, or for very long.

But it was there all along.

Wallahu'alam bissawab.


this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 11:31 pm


"I told the world..."

*** Before we begin, let me just help your navigation: All links are to be right-clicked and OPENED IN A NEW WINDOW. Jazaks***


In the name of God, the Most Merciful, Most Kind,

Let me do my part, ya Rabb*.

Let me tell the world as well.

And if they do not listen, there is not much that I can do.

But please, let them listen.

Ya Rabb, I know that this war and this strife and this fighting calamity is ours - only ours to blame (Al-Anfal; 8:25)

But please, ya Rabb, give us the chance to repair our mistakes.

Please, ya Rabb, do not let those who have died, die in vain.

May we always remember them.

Please, ya Rabb, let us not forget this reminder from you:

That should we forget, we shall be Forgotten (Al-An'am; 6:44).

Remind us always, lest it be in vain.


* 'Ya Rabb' is Arabic for 'O Lord'.

** All pictures are credited to award-winning Malaysian author, Faisal Tehrani (yes, the guy who wrote that compulsory SPM cerpen about the girl and the apples).

this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 12:21 pm


Friday, August 11, 2006

What would you do?

He looked expectantly at me, holding out his hand.
"Hi, I'm Daniel."

In that split second, my decision had been made:

"I'm sorry, Daniel, but I don't shake hands with guys," I said, with what I hoped was not a sheepish smile.

To my relief, he blinked and followed that little stumble with a wide smile. "Oh, that's okay."

After graciously thanking him for finding my mobile (alhamdulillah, ya Rabb), I made my way back to Frank Tate (the building) and into the musolla, rushing to make it for Zohor prayers.

This wasn't the first time I had been faced with such an awkward position. Both times, I had really asked for it, quite literally. It is, after all, a new semester, and making new friends is only to be expected. In tutes and pracs, you're bound to make a new acquaintance, and in some places (such as Management tute and Genetics prac), there will be the traditional ice-breaking session.

Most people sort of understand what being Muslim and wearing the hijab entails. Some non-Muslim guys even go to the extent of not really looking to talk to you unless necessary. That's something that stil strikes me as profound - that people who are not Muslims can understand what being Muslim means, and that they understand better than some of my Muslims peers (maybe I'm talking about guys, in specifics) how to communicate with a Muslim girl.

Tundukkan pandangan, jangan cakap selagi tak perlu, no langgar-langgar, flirting mana boleh, no tepuk-tampar, sila buka pintu dan beri laluan.

They really, really get it.

But still, some of them may not know that there are boundaries set in Islam, between men and women. Maybe they feel we fought our way into uni, just to 'liberate ourselves'. Who knows? :)


Thing is, though, what do you do when, during a sesi berkenal-kenalan, especially with non-Muslims and mat sallehs, a guy comes up to you and puts out his hand as a friendly gesture?

Do you curse the Imperialists who spread this unhygienic means of establishing relationships (do you KNOW how many kinds of bacteria you nurture on your palms' sweat glands)?

Do you pretend not to look (as what some of my friends have done - never fails to make me smile at the thought)?

Or do you politely say to them,
"I don't believe in shaking hands with guys." And hold your palm up as a sign of semi-apology?

I opt for the last one.

Maybe opt is the wrong word to use, since I do it without even having to mull it over for very long. MasyaAllah, I truly never halt before stating that particular stand of mine. Alhamdulillah.

But some of my female Muslims friends from Malaysia are like, "Whoa. Serious lah."

And I'm all, "Uh. Yah. Habis tu, nak buat apa? I have to stand up for what I believe in. And help them understand."

Although it did bug me that a former prac-table-mate rephrased my words (as above) into, "Oh, you CAN'T shake hands with guys. Yeah, cool."

I didn't bother correcting him, since I had other things to worry about, and he already seemed to be unable to hear me anyway.

But like one of my 'big' sisters said, being a Muslim is more than just stating the shahadatain and wearing the hijab and asking for permission from your lecturer to go for prayers.

Being a Muslim means rejecting everything that is not beneficial. That includes everything unIslamic.

Am I making sense here?

Being a Muslim means that you cannot wear the hijab and smoke/drink (you know what I mean)/go clubbing/date. You cannot go to rock concerts with your girlfriend, and then come back and give a lecture on tauhid, with your kufi on.

Islam permits no hypocrisy. Because even people who don't really know what Islam is all about, knows that doing all that just ain't right, man.

You either live as a Muslim, or you live as the 'other'.

It's as simple as that.

We talk about dakwah as if it is such a big deal. But the smallest form of dakwah we can do is to live as a Muslim, and show other people, unconsciously, what Islam is all about - that it is beautiful, and made fit-to-form for all human beings, regardless of background, nationality, etc.

Islam does away with all conflicts of mind and heart. And most of the headaches that beleagure the troubled mind.

Because Allah loves us just that much, see.

And even if that Love is pretty hard to repay, we have to try.

So what would you do?


this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 4:33 pm


Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Assalamualaikum wrh. wbt.

A browse through my blogroll (especially here and here) would be proof enough to the age-old adage:

“Semi-great minds think alike."

Okay. So maybe that particular quote isn't as age-old as it is corrupted.

But just to make it up to you, let me throw you another quote nugget:

"Everybody's changing, and I don't feel the same." - Keane-

Which, as I have just realized, is a confession, disguised as something Aussies would call a bout of 'whinging'. I used to think the dude singing the song was complaining about how everyone around him has changed, but the final clincher is when he admits that he's changed as well.

That's the topic that all three of us girls have obviously mulled over, despite all three being in really different places and environments.


Scary word, isn't it?

But as I have realized, it's only as threatening as you imagine it to be.

I used to despise change. I used to glare at it from a distance, and moan whenever it came along, and did my best to avoid it.

Now I just accept it with a willing heart. Learning about how the world really works (via al-Quran and as-Sunnah) has helped relieved me off the burden of worrying over the teeny-tiny details of my rather insignificant life.

There are greater things to come. So roll along, and recycle your iman (although come to think of it, that's another post in the works).

Maybe the reason I am not terrified of change anymore, is because I have changed a lot myself. Just take a quick look around my older posts, and you'll see the graph go up and down. Heh.

I used to laugh at myself when I saw the reactions on people's faces, when they saw the 'new and improved' me. They can't complain, because the way I am now is not a bad thing (that's the one thing they seem to agree on). But now I sort of understand the reason why people are so averse to change:

Because it forces them to change, themselves.

When someone close to you suddenly is born anew, it definitely takes some getting used to. You have to learn to understand this person beside you, just when you think you've got the person down to a tee. You have to learn to accept this person's new preferences. You've got to learn to change your mind.

Maybe that's the thing we fear the most about change - changing the way we view life. Splattering the world with grey is not something we're all keen on doing. Admit it, we enjoy having all the answers. Having a retort for everything and everyone is fun.

Don't you just hate being contradicted?

It was easy enough for me to change, because it came from within me, and without anyone's influence. Not directly, anyway. Nobody really wanted me to change. Except for maybe my parents. But they never force, which is probably what made it a better transition.

It's a bit harder for me to watch other people change, and have to reset the way I think about them. Especially since over here in Melbourne, people seem to be changing every other day.

Here are a few of the more anonymous examples I can share in public:

Moral of the story:

Change will happen. Accept the qada' and qadar from God and deal with it the best you can. Embracing them with open hands may do the trick.



this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 4:55 pm


This. Is. Incredible.

If you care, you'll watch this.

Even if you do not believe that what is going on in Palestine and Lebanon is crucial for all Muslims, let the human in you judge this video.

Then you will see.


this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 2:23 pm


Friday, August 04, 2006

Mengingati kisah silam.

Assalamualaikum wrh. wbt.

I cannot seem to listen to NowSeeHeart's Selamat Tinggal Silamku. Because to me, it simply brings back too many memories. Of some things I'd like to forget. Things that something as simply as the strumming of a guitar would remind me of.

I admit, that as far as the whole topic of tarbiyyah goes, I have a long way to go. Sure, I may have stopped listening to all those songs that couldn't seem to stop harping on about love and how it makes them sick/dying/tortured/sangap/happy/angsty/sad/all-clenched-up-inside out of my own accord, but that doesn't mean that I'm fully done. I still have far to go. It's difficult, when you have lived as I have, to suddenly drop all the things I am so used to. Not because people are pressuring me to, but because my own conscience is.

I still cannot live completely fillah (for Allah). Although I owe every breath and every second of every day of my entire life and the one after it to Him.

Which makes it a shame.

Just when I thought I was past some parts of my life, little things prop up, reminding me of them.

For instance, I used to be a horrible crush-er. Meaning I used to have amazing crushes on people, and it would agonize me. I would feel pained. That crunching feeling in the middle of my ribcage (the one not associated to 'angin') would intensify whenever I saw the person I 'liked'. I would create scenarios in my head and cringe again and again. I would replay my encounters and slap my forehead in plain amazement at my stupidity. I put myself down over and over again. I dreamt of fairy-tale like endings over and over again. And I would promptly kill them down with doses of realism, but in a fatalistic way.

As Ecah says, I am a hopeless romantic. :) At least she says it in a laughing manner.

But the more I discovered about the Love Allah has for me (and you and you and you, too), the more I came to see that nothing is worth as much as that. And that the human affection I was seeking was pointless. I prefer to call it 'crushing', although it is very juvenile a term. Because that's what it was. Having a 'crush' on people started crushing me - my sense of self-worth and my relationships with people and my view on life.

I was unfortunately, very obvious when I 'liked' someone. More often than not, my friends would notice, and start to tease. Then the noise would catch up to the person I liked, and he would tense up and distance himself, which in turn made me more miserable than ever.

Looking back, I would laugh, if the value of the time and energy lost wasn't so pathetic. Imagine, I once had a crush on someone for around five years, on and off, and now, I don't know what he's doing, and I frankly don't quite care. Even though I still kept in touch with him (on my part - maybe he was still scared of me :)) up till the middle of last year, I've lost all means now. I wonder if he even knows that I've left Malaysia, and that I - the person least expected to survive so many miles away from home - has succeeded in resisting the winds of conformity and boring for nearly six months now. Alhamdulillah.

I imagined that he would be a little amused. Or marvelled. Not at me, but at how God created someone like me to be able to survive like this. It's unexpected, really.

Why am I ranting on like this? I am not sure why.

But I have learnt that even having crushes is not encouraged in Islam (bukan aku kata, ustaz yang kata!). Or rather, you can have a crush, but it's important to act upon it i.e. get married quickly. It prevents much heartache and misunderstandings.

That makes sense, if you think about it.

But no one is like that anymore. People have lived up to the Western standard of life, and that cuts into relationships as well. Women (and feminists) still marvel at the fact that Siti Khadijah, the prophet Muhammad's (pbuh) wife, a wealthy merchant of 40 years, was the one who proposed to him.

And they marvel ever the more in that he accepted.

Which shows that he had no ego.
Which shows the respect Khadijah had for Muhammad (she used a middle-person to propose).
Which shows that even though those were the days of the jahiliyah, women were still respected, and certain boundaries, especially that of contact between men and women, were still observed.

Men nowadays have egos the size of mountains.
Women and men nowadays have scarce respect for each other (I don't, anyway - at least I'm being honest).
What boundaries??

I have never had a boyfriend before, and as I've told my friend Erin, it wasn't due to lack of trying. But masyaAllah, I have never been able to have a relationship. Surely there is something bigger and better in that that Allah knows. Allahu'alam bissawab.

But I do know that even liking someone was painful enough for me. When I look back, I feel foolish, definitely.

Because I was a fool to spend so much time agonizing over the feelings of a person who might never be the one for me. Even if it was only a crush, and even if it never went further than that, into the truly forbidden areas. It still took my mind and my focus off the more important things in life.

Haha. Now I can laugh. If only virtually.

You know, actually, I think I know why I am ranting like this:

It's because I was inexplicably reminded of it when I saw my Chem classmate this morning. I will admit, he has caught my eye more than once (I try to tundukkan pandangan, but it is hard, when you're co-ed). First of all, because of his resemblance to Harry Potter. You know, sharp nose and glasses and dark hair. I was a fan, after all :)

Secondly, I noticed that he was probably half-Chinese. His surname was Chinese (so emblazoned a jersey he wore). Which meant his father was Chinese. Just like mine is. I feel a certain kinship for people of mixed parentage, honestly. Especially when one of their parents is Chinese. Because you get the sense of not really wanting to belong to any one group.

Thirdly, there are not that many people in (Advanced) Chemistry B (610-122). There are less people this semester, in fact. As I said to Tori (a former Chem classmate), they are the smart ones.

So. You tend to observe the same people time and time again, 3 hours a week, every other week day, for 12 weeks. If you like observing people. Which I do, very much.

Anyway, this guy was dressed formally today. And I admit, observing the guy like this reminds me a lot of my old crush/stalker days in secondary school. So it only begs comparison. Today, he was dressed to the nines in a tux and tie (very different from the general, class-wide regulation same-sweater-and-jeans combo, so he probably had a function or a funeral to attend after class), and well, so was I, sort of (I was wearing a baju kurung which should only really be worn during special occasions, but I am in the midst of laundry-week).

He was dressed in black and red, and so was I.

And back when I was still jahil, so to speak, I used to smile and think of little coincidences like these, between the person I 'liked' and me, as signs from above: that this was IT.

And I couldn't help but wince as I remembered my past. And how dangerously I could be treading upon the path towards repeating that part of my past I would much rather forget. Maybe without my even noticing.

Ever onwards. We can still glimpse back and learn from our mistakes. InsyaAllah, may we never repeat them.


this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 11:18 pm