Sugar

rahadian2
The sublime  R e z a   R a h a d i a n   M a t u l e s s y
rahadian1
The more the merrier? 😉

Baperrrr….

Been  watching  his  movies  nonstop  for  the  past  several  days,  starting with “S u r g a   Y a n g   T a k   D i r i n d u k an   2” at the bioskop 😉

Unlike my BFF of yonks who thinks she has a chance with a Tony Award-winning Broadway actor (who has a lot of time for his fans, admittedly), this realist knows that even though the probability that R e z a  plays on the other team and rides the Hershey Highway is almost certain… it doesn’t make a bleddy difference. As covetable as he is, we might as well be living on different planets ~ his world and mine… never the twain shall meet. He’s just a dream.  A fantasy.  An escape.

My mental  escape.

My escape from all that beleaguer and weigh me down. An escape from what IS to what I wish things WERE.

I am just so T-I-R-E-D  of the way things are now.  The way things are going, I don’t think there is any change in sight and the prospect of that weighs me down like no other.

So I escape into the virtual arms of this talented, insightful, sensitive, intense man… whose immense talent allows him to play a myriad of vastly different roles to the hilt, like no one else can. A consummate actor whose dark good looks don’t exactly make it difficult to glue my eyes to screen, either 😅

I want my own  Dr.  S y a r i e f.  I don’t want to have to dumb down anymore.

**pics are from the @official p i l a r e z  IG account.

I Remember

I am watching “Rumi & Jawi” and Rumi’s (the delectable Remy Ishak 😜) sister had just passed away.

I am reminded of the time when Allahyarham B left us. When Allahyarham B chose to leave us.😭 I don’t know how I walked out of the cemetery that evening we buried him. I just remember putting one foot in front of the other, how heavy each leaden step felt.

I remember my husband’s arms around me, almost propping me up.  It was right before the Maghrib adhan that the burial was completed. The saddest sight for me, and I am sure it will remain the saddest one till the day I die… was of Allahyarhamha Mummy, in her wheelchair watching her eldest son, whatever was left of him wrapped in the white kafan, being lowered into the ground.  She was at the end of her own battle with cancer back then… her final months in this temporary dunia with us.  Allah SWT took her back 5 months later.

Just like the character of the mother in this drama serial, it took a while for me to get used to the idea of not having my loved one around anymore.  There were so many times when I’d go to Mum’s and I would forget that he was no longer there anymore. I’d stand at the foot of the stairs to the upstairs TV den (or what we call our ‘surau‘) and call him by the nickname I have called him since we were kids. For years I would do that and he would answer “Yerrrrpppp” and bound down the stairs and greet me with his brightest smile. Now there’s only silence.

A dark silence that breaks me.

I cannot express in words the abysmal void his passing has left in my life. An abyss of emptiness that nothing can ever fill. He was my closest sibling, my bestfriend, my confidant, my advisor, my cheerleader, my jester, my wingman, my partner in crime.  I am bawling as I type this… to say I miss him would be the most egregious understatement.

I think of him every day, even now… more than a year after that cursed date of 5th March 2015…. when he decided to leave us… in the most horrific way.  Perhaps it’s the way in which he left us… or the fact that he chose to leave us… that has made everything still so difficult for me to accept and deal with.

I still cannot bring myself to go to his grave. I can go to Mum’s grave and maintain my composure because I had the ‘luxury’ of time to mentally prepare myself for her… departure. (IMO, nothing can ever emotionally prepare one for the loss of one’s MOTHER.) Since they passed away within 5 months of each other, their respective graves are just a few metres away in the same cemetery.  Allahyarham B’s grave is within sight of Allahyarhamha Mummy’s grave and I just CAN’T even catch a glimpse of his name carved on the granite of his grave without falling. to. absolute. pieces.

Each and every time.

May Allah SWT grant me strength, patience and true redha to accept this loss.

اللهم اغفرله وارحمه وعافه واعف عنه

Apakepoons?

In keeping with the #oneentryaday schtick around here, thought I’d dash off a post amidst the whirlwind of my activity today! 🙂

Spoke to the Mak Tiri today (let’s call her Auntie T) re: inviting my maternal uncles for Eid.  She was all for it. She told me Dad had told her “of course they can come, what is wrong?”

Pulak.

Auntie T knows that Dad had called Uncle B (Allahyarhamha Mummy’s youngest bro) and I have already told her what Dad said to Uncle B, about “tak ada Raya” this year because no one will be at SS. We both speku that Dad is just saying “of course they can come”, thinking that he had (secretly) already taken care of the matter by telling Uncle B that no one will be at SS, therefore there will be no Raya. We speculate that on the day itself, when Uncle B doesn’t turn up, Dad will just say, “Biarlah… dah dia tak datang apa kita nak buat?” or something along those lines.

Wot Dad doesn’t know is… I already know of wot he did, after being informed by my cousin J (Uncle B’s daughter) when we exchanged Whatsapp messages re: meeting up  over Eid yesterday.

The plot thickens.

Intrigue.

KONON.

Dad’s ‘intelligence’ tactics are so ol’ skool.  He may have been Malaysia’s answer to ‘M’ back in the day… but with all due respect, Dad… your methods are too… passé.  I think I can give Dame Judi a run for her money when it comes to playing ‘M’. Intrigue and wily manipulations are soooo my cup of char 😎

So Auntie T and I have decided to play it differently. Auntie T will tell Dad that I had gone ahead and invited Uncle B and fam for the first day of Eid at SS, (kononnya) not knowing Dad had played the Raya Grinch and told Uncle B that it’s “off”. I cannot uninvite Uncle B, so Dad will just have to suck it up and endure.

So there.


In other ‘news’, Auntie T told me that she had to call Mum’s helper, the one who is now back in JaTim on a 2-month holiday, to ask her some things regarding a few documents she needs for Dad. (The helper was the one who helped Allahyarhamha Mummy manage all the paperwork in SS during the last few months of Mum’s life.)

Auntie T used Dad’s phone to call the helper… and when the call was answered, Auntie T heard:

“Assalamualaikum, Abang…”

Boleh??!!!

Auntie T then replied:

“[helper’s name], ini Tengku… bukan Tan Sri..”

At which point the helper quickly hung up/ ended the call.

HAAAAAaaaaaaaa…… apakepoons is going on here???!!

No Rest For The Wicked

Well.. well… Isn’t it shaping up to be #oneentryaday, lately?

Allahyarhamha Mum used to love this phrase, “no rest for the wicked” and she usually said it referring to me coz she loved to tease that I am ‘wicked’… which I AM, so I am totally not going to refute it *wry laugh*

I have a gajillion and one things to do in preparation for Eid. I have been assigned to cook the rendang tok by the Mak Tiri. I will also be making lamb and chicken biryani for the so-called ‘open house’ on the first day of Eid. I have sent messages to all and sundry that it will only be between post-Eid prayers and Maghrib.  Saper2 yang lambat tu sila bergerak ke rumah seterusnya coz ain’t nobadeh going to be at Seri Semantan (yes, that’s what the house my brothers and I grew up in is named :P) after Maghrib.

I know Dad will want me to uphold Allahyarhamha Mummy’s Eid traditions… so now I am faced with baking Raya cookies too, the ones she would usually make herself annually without fail~ her famous raisin cornflake cookies, biskut Arab and kuih bawang (aka kuih gunting – the most LECEH of the lot to  make! 😫) Akak dah lama tak buat kuih Raya ni chuols… Pengsan laaaaaa…

Then there’s this whole drama re: Allahyarhamha Mummy’s family coming over to celebrate Eid with us.  I had assumed that Dad wouldn’t stoop so low as to tell my maternal uncles that they cannot come for Raya but he did. just. that.

*facepalm*

He just told them “there will be no one at Seri Semantan” so there’s “no Raya” this year.

Boleh??!!

Does Dad realise how foolish and silly that sounds? Surely Mum’s brothers will be thinking, isn’t In or Zane celebrating Eid even though there’s “no one” at SS? Dad’s issue of being “too embarrassed”/ not being able to face Allahyarhamha Mummy’s brothers with his new wife has created so many problems since Mummy returned to Rahmatullah.

They KNOW of his second wife and they are OK with it (IMHO, they are entitled to feel whatever they want about this) but Dad is the one who cannot face them. I am thinking how much longer does this have to go on? When I wanted to invite them for makan2 after the numerous tahlil-s we had for Allahyarhamhuma Mum and Brix**, Dad would always answer,

“Alah… diaorang bukan Islam pun…”

What??! So? That was never an issue when Allahyarhamha Mum was still around… How narrow Dad’s view is.

Makes me terribly sad… what would Mummy feel if she were still around and sees Dad doing this to her family?

My maternal relatives will always be family to me, I cherish and treasure the relationship… and I am not about to sever any of the ties I have with my maternal uncles. In all honesty, I prefer my maternal uncles to Dad’s side of the family ~ opportunistic vultures each and one of them with the exception of a very select few +___+

That Melayu tamak harta shite you see in those slot Samarinda/Akasia/Dahlia/wothaveyou dramas actually happen IRL, I assure you… well at least in Dad’s family it does! *rolls eyes sampai nak tercabut*

I have to be off to calculate my zakat pulak ni. The state of ennui that has plagued me since the past month made me put it off till today. Ramadhan will be over before I know it and I haven’t calculated my 2.5% yet.. استغفر الله العظيم

No rest for the wicked! 😛

** I have never mentioned nor written about my brother Brix’s return to Rahmatullah… because it is something horrendously painful for me. Just thinking about it feels like a red-hot knife stabbing my heart and twisting and twisting and macerating what little is left of its broken pieces. I will write about it…some day.

Neverending Story

Limahl would have approved.

Thought I could start fasting again on Friday… but noooo…

Thought I could start fasting again on Saturday…. again noooo…

FOR SURE I would be able to fast on Sunday, right?

NOOOooOOOooOOOOoooo….

Assuming that I can fast tomorrow (Monday, 22nd Ramadhan 1437H), I am looking at replacing 9… yes, NINE days of fasting.

😫😫😫😫😫😫

Add to that Shawal’s 6-day sunnah fast… I will be fasting 15 days in Shawal.

Good thing I am not one of those who believe in ‘Raya sebulan’.

Schadenfreude

Moe the Iraqi Leech is back in town. He finally obtained his Canadian citizenship and is now back in Malaysia “looking for a job”. Good luck with that la bai. He contacted me almost as soon as his plane landed! Started going on as if the past 8 years did not happen and that I will just fall back into his arms and start bankrolling him AND HIS ANNOYING FAMILY like I stupidly did before. Apakepundek? I was a lonely, vulnerable divorcée when I met him and felt I needed to buy love to get it. Even though I could have gotten it without doing so… from others. I don’t understand myself sometimes… *facepalm* BODOH!!

I told him like it is… “what did you expect?” I actually toyed with the thought of leading him on like he led me on… just for the schadenfreude of it all… for sweet revenge… but I dunno, since 2010 I am not the biatch I used to be. I might still do it… but I have stopped entertaining his messages and have made it clear in no uncertain terms that things. are. different. now.  I have remarried and there is no way I am going to be so “kind” as to bankroll his life anymore.

His Mum is now suffering from kidney failure. My heart goes out to her… and the family.. but enough is enough lah makcik.

Makcik, I remember the time you would use me and suck me dry. We would go for a stroll through a shopping mall and you would hit me up for ribu-raban winter coats, Guerlain cosmetics and the such. When I took off the citrine ring given by my mother to wash dishes at your place, without a thought nor care for my feelings… you took the ring and put it on your finger… wanting to claim it as your own. Coz by that time you had already gotten everything so easily from me that you felt whatever you wanted you surely MUST get.

And then what happened? You couldn’t take the ring off.

Your finger started swelling and you started crying and stamping your feet like a petulant 4-year old in pain. I secretly wanted to laugh at you, watching your son desperately try to get the ring off your finger.  If I were royalty sure ada orang dah kata terpalit ‘daulat’. LOLOL

The ring managed to come off and you gave me such a dirty look after that as if it was MY fault you couldn’t fit the ring. Yalah, badan aku aje gemuk… tapi jari-jemari aku kecik la… ikut mak aku. Padan muka kau!

I also remember the time when some friends of your son MoePantat invited him and all of you for a Raya do. All you did at the do was criticise EVERYTHING about the hosts house, the food, their family… you think I didn’t understand what you said? I felt bad for the hosts.  They were kind enough to invite you into their humble home and you acted as if you were the Queen of Frikkin Sheba. Hel-lo… your son’s apartment in Pantat Dalam ain’t all that either… so go cermin yourself first.

What about the time I brought you Philistines for a show at the MPO? You made loud disparaging comments throughout the entire show… I wished the ground would just open and swallow me up. Lesson learned… never bring sakais to civilised, artistic performances at the MPO Hall.

I am starting to think there will be a whole slew of #moepantat entries in this blog.

Purging is sooooo liberating!

YASSSSS!