Mumbles. My mumbles. I mumble a lot.

I'm just lazy tonight. I don't feel like doing anything at all. Even sitcoms don't entertain me much.

Maybe I am thinking too much. But personal issues are something to think about. Even talking about them to my friends seem to deepen the wound.

How life has changed on this side of the world.

This week is off to a VERY bad start. Monday was horrible. (I don't exactly know why, but I keep on complaining about Mondays. Not my fault. I wouldn't be doing so should Mondays are received well throughout the population of the world). Had a mock exam, and I entirely missed the 1st command of the question. This later results in further screw-ups. Thank goodness, this particular test is, say, a mockery?

Today started well at the beginning. Then the next class came. Supposedly 3 hours of incomprehensible nightmare. I only had the strength to pull through one and a half hours. You can see why I shouldn't join the Army. Resilience is just not my thing. I actually walked out for a while, went to the toilet, sat down and thought about my life. I sat down on the potty, (though nothing that should happen happened), and asked myself "just what the fuck am I doing here?". I shouldn't do this if I don't want to.

I feel the weight on my shoulders just getting heavier by the moment. And it's holding me back.

Anybody seen my Facebook profile?

There are some things in this world that, god forbid, happens to every other people in life. Your friends, your family, people who are close to you, or in one way or another related to you. Good things happen, and most of the time bad ones. Let's focus on the bad ones.

Should it happen to people around you, perhaps you could stay put. Symphatise. Hope that it would eventually turn out well.

But what if it happens to you. Right there, in your face. What do you do?

(I wrote this in my old blog years, maybe ages ago. I just feel like sharing it again.)

It was Eid. The time to celebrate, the time to rejoice. And he never thought that it is the day that his life was made complete, just by saying yes to the offer that came around that morning from his father. `Auntie Noorliza’s open house today, and everybody’s going,’ said the Dad. It may not sound much like an offer, but it is, and we were obliged to say ‘Yes’. And off we went. I was 15 then, eager yet shy, but raging with hormones flowin like blood to my veins. A 20 minute car ride, and we were soon there. I shook hands with the people there, with the Hostess and Host, and helped myself to the food that was on the table. And as i shoved a spoonful of Nasi Arab (hormones made me eat), i almost choked. I think i actually DID choke. For in front of me, there stood the most captivating sight that i have ever experienced in my life. It was her, and the Hostess called her ‘Jel’.

‘Jel. As in Hazel’. So i thought. There were so many people in the house, and i sat gaping over her. It would be a shameful sight, watching me in that situation. I have food in my wide open mouth.

‘Behave like a man. Control’ I thought. So I continued eating. But how can you eat in peace, with her in mind. I kept picturing i was feeding her instead. Foolish, foolish, but it felt great. I was in heaven, literally. And then the world came crashing down on me.

She was there walking towards me. ‘OH. MY.GOD.’ I panicked, I wanted to run, I didn’t know where to go. ‘Control’. And there she sat right next to me. The whole world went blank except for the sight of her. I can’t take my eyes off her. She was the only one I wanted to look at, worth having a look at. ‘Hi!’ said this angel brought down from the heavens as a gift from God Almighty.

‘Hhh.. Hh.. Hhhii..’. I was all over the place.

‘Anak Uncle Husni eh?’

‘Err.. Haah…’

‘Hi. Hazel’ She replied the with a smile. The smile that never went out of my memories.

‘Muz’.

PMR was just over. Naturally that was the most obvious topic to discuss about.

‘So how was English?’

‘English? English was freakin’ easy’. Hormones made me try to impress. I soon learnt that this done in a very harsh manner, and overly done, would result as a turn-off.

So she had to entertain other guests. I realized we had the same phone in hand. And even with this similarity, I still find it hard, not to mention awkward to ask for her phone number. This turns out to be one of the biggest mistakes that I have ever made in my entire life. Because she would be in another man’s arms by that time.

But the sparks kept flying.

And everytime I pass the SSP Tower, located just next to her house, i would remember this day. I would remember her face, I would remember the talk, I would remember what she wore (I still do. She had a grey t-shirt with brown corduroy pants on. And this being me, the ever forgetful person.)

It would only be four years after the incident that we are finally united. It was a long wait, but it was worth it. I waited four years. I dont know of anyone who could. But i did. Because I love her. I love Jel. Muzani loves Hazel.

It went on to be the day, that i shed my first tears of happiness. And she made me do it. She was the reason why i cried, because I was happy.

Even if she is halfway around the world right now, from where i sit down writing this. Even if we’re twelve hours apart.

Even if it’s not easy. But nobody said it couldn’t be done.

It never occured to me befor that Mondays could be this awful. It normally wasn't so back home, partially for the reason that there's always something to be done in the weekends. I'd either go out, or go back home. Both ways, they were equally fulfilling. Something not too tiring, yet, I'd feel sort of like having a really good meal. It ends well.

It's only here that I finally get to know what Monday Blues really means. I woke up today just to snooze of for another half an hour. I skipped shower to snooze (It's only here that I'm allowed to do this. I'm normally hygienic). I opened my eyes with an almighty reluctance to get dressed, just to go to class so frigging early in the morning.

Weekends here are somewhat different. It's either you have too much to do, or nothing to do at all. My saturday was pretty much OK, if only it didn't start a bit too early and ended a bit too late. Otherwise it would have been nice. Back then, it would have been nice. Usually saturdays are "go out" days. Shopping malls would be THE no.1 option. Nope, no malls here. Though they have a street that practically have the same function as a shopping mall, the jive ain't there. It's just DIFFERENT.

Sundays would be a pleasure. Sunday newspapers would be the start of the day. If I'm home, mom would buy breakfast. INTEC-wise, I would wake up too late to have breakfast anyway. If I do wake up early, Radzman would gladly ask me out for some breakfast. I would walk to ESSO, buy me newspapers. Plainly because other newspaper stalls just seem to run out of NST and Mingguan Malaysia pretty quick. I don't even follow the news here. They don't have cartoons in the papers here. The cartoons are in COLOUR every Sunday back home. Exciting, ain't it?

I don't produce "Bad" as a product. Not that kind of Bad Factory. I'm just implying that if I am actually a factory, I'd be a bad one. Mostly because of the fact that this week has been totally unproductive.

I skipped the idea of heading to the library, merely based on the assumption that I wouldn't have enough mojo to sit and study for a couple of hours. In layman's terms, I JUST DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT. My room is a mess, as usual. I procrastinate to do my laundry. I eat only if I have to. I cook only if I feel like I have to eat. Skipped classes because I slept throught the evening.

And yes. Today I realized, exams are coming. In 2 months' time. I'm in enough hot soup where I am right now. I'd better learn from my immature mistakes that I made the past year.

Somebody wake me up.