Quickie #1

" Friends can find that the sweetest sense of happiness comes from simply being together." 

Friendship

"See that girl up there, the one making adorable faces? That's my best friend, and I love her."

I've realised recently, that I haven't been very true to myself.

I've always thought of myself as mature, I took pride in the fact that I live so differently, that I go through life deeper than anybody else, with more thought and being more... knowing. I thought I was ahead.

But I've come to realize that I am so very very behind.

So now I've made a promise to myself. One that I intend to keep.

From now on, I will be as real as real can be.

I will stop acting like a character from a rather mind-numbing novel. I'll stop planning every single detail, stop overlooking every single thing. I'll leave my fairytale and step into reality.

What better way to be real than to talk about real experiences? Real people?

Real gratitude.

Because today, I would like to talk about one of my friends. I would like to talk about Ilyssa Jace, whom I have nothing but gratitude for.

She's a social little thing, so the fact that she has a blog is unquestionable. You can check her out here. She's got a lot to say, and a certain way of saying it. She's dedicated a blog post to our friendship, and it's time I do the same. :)

The first time I actually acknowledged her, was way back when in Year 3. We had one of those childish connections where we would cling on to each other, cause drama, hate each other, like each other. Repeat cycle.

We were kids.

We were all just kids. What mattered back then was how many friends you had, who watched HSM 3 last night, who had the nicest Hannah Montana merchandise and the prettiest 'Girls' slingbags.

We didn't know it yet, but for some of us, Sekolah Rendah was going to be the worst few years of our lives.

But let's not dwell on that.

...as I was saying, I met Ilyssa in Year 3. Year 4, 5 and 6 was spent disliking her, because it was what everyone else was doing.

She was different. She was according to everyone; crazy, and bossy and spoilt.

But she was ahead. She was one thing we were not in Sekolah Rendah.

She was real.

She knew who she was, and what she wanted. I think she knew the heated whispers in the corners of the classroom were about her, and I think that's why she seemed so defiant. In a sense, you could say she was verbally bullied for being who she was. But that didn't stop her. No matter how many people expressed their dislike for her, she marched on.

I respected her for that.

But I kept my distance.

And yet, somehow, when two people are meant to be friends. They'll become friends.

And that's exactly what happened between us when we were fourteen.

We became friends.

I had grown out of my clingy ways. Somehow, I managed to become my own person, I managed to grow my own skin. But peer pressure pressed down upon me as always. It was suffocating, sometimes I would walk with my head held high, confident. Sometimes, I struggled to act a certain way to impress certain people, constantly insecure.

Ilyssa was at that point where she was almost who she was meant to be. But there was something pulling her back. To me, she seemed confused. She seemed perhaps, as my over-thinking brain would put it, afraid to be free.

We helped each other out.

It started with racist Mexican jokes. Because she is my Mexican and I am hers. We'd laugh at the jokes no one understood; together.

And when she went through that rough patch of hers, I stayed by her side. I walked the across the school field with her, whispering "It's gonna be okay's" and "Don't worry's". I remember hiding behind the bookcases in the library as she let it all out, as she worried about things teenagers worry about.

There were a lot of secrets shared.

And along the way, an unbreakable bond was created.

She became more than a friend as time went on. She was forgiving, she was crazy, she was loving.

One thing she never was, however, was boring.

Because that's who Ilyssa Jace is . She's interesting. She's fun.

But contrary to other people's beliefs, including her own, she was so much more than that.

She has helped me in so many ways. She has imprinted so many unforgettable memories permanently into my mind. She has done so much for me, in so many ways, so many times.

I probably wouldn't have gotten the prefect title if she hadn't pulled me aside from the chaos occuring in our classroom just to calm me down.

She is in all sense of the word, a true friend.

Sometimes, I wish she would let out her emotions more. Sometimes I wish she would shed the 'happy-go-lucky' mask she always wears and answer honestly when I ask her "what's wrong?". Sometimes I wish she would just let me give her the hug she so obviously needs, because she's helped me so many times already, why can't I help her instead?


But then I remember the little girl she once was. I remember that at one time, she probably had multiple walls up at once to protect herself from hurt.

I remember that this girl survived three years in Sekolah Rendah with everyone constantly hating on her.

So I let it go, and I leave her be.

Because you know, sometimes people need to have some time alone.

And sometimes, they need to be with friends.

And when that time comes again, I'll be there for her in shining armor, ready to protect her from whatever harm may come.

Because she is my friend. My stubborn, funny, lovely, beautiful, annoying, pain-in-the-ass, cute friend and I love her.

And I wouldn't change that for the world.

Freedom?

Hello again. :)

It's been a while since I last updated, but now that exams are over, I'm free.

Well, as free as a fifteen year old can be.

Which isn't very free, now is it? Maybe it's the fact that my major exams are closer than ever before. Two years away, one year away, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four months away. Time flies by so quickly, the harder I try to hold on to it, the easier it slips away from me.

I used to be so small, so curious. I used to be so soft, so transparent. Tales and stories and pictures and incidents, the world would spin and I would not know it, I would remain unaffected, untouched. 

I used to be so, so, childlike. 

I used to be a child. I used to be a delusional child whose world evolved around her toys and her family.

Now, though I have tried to stop it, I have grown up. Sometimes, I think I grew faster than my friends did, than my family. Sometimes I worry that I've outgrown everyone and everything I love. Then I make that small, childish mistake, and I worry that perhaps I am not ahead, but very far behind. I worry that perhaps it wasn't me who outgrew them, but they who outgrew me.

Yeah. I worry a lot.

But I miss those times. I miss the times when exams used to be 'connect the dots' and 'fill in the spaces'. The times when we would learn because we were curious, because we wanted to. The times before our curiosity was replaced with dread, before we realised that we must learn, we must memorise, because if we did not force ourselves to absorb everything the education system threw at us, we would not get straight A's, and that would surely mean the end of the world as we know it.

I miss the times when we didn't give a damn.

I miss the times when we were free.

We've become prisoners of our own minds. We've become the passengers of our own bodies. We have lost all our rights to be ourselves, to be and act and grow- as children.

Isn't that sad?

Ideally, we are soldiers. Not physically, but mentally.

Our minds are the soldiers, winning the battles, but losing the war.

We take in everything we are taught, not really understanding, never really quite sure why we must, and how  it helps. We achieve the A's we so desperately need, the worthless letters scrawled upon equally worthless pieces of paper, and we treasure them, we use them as symbols of victory. We win, if we do try hard enough, we understand, we take one step closer to that oh-so-important goal. We become the doctors, the lawyers, the chemical engineers that our family expects us to be, we walk upon the path that has been laid down for us.

But then something happens. Something that was never worth the blood and sweat and tears we have invested into this future that we so obviously do not want for ourselves.

We lose our freedom.

I am not saying that getting good results is bad. I am saying that even with good results, the winning of the war is not guaranteed. We will become successful, we will climb the social ladder. We will, so to say, achieve our dreams. 

But along the way, we lose something special. Our childhood. Our happiness. Along the way, we might lose everything that we know, deep down; matters.

Freedom to me, is the right to not give a damn. Freedom, to me, is to be able to get a C for something, and to shake your head and to tell yourself that you deserve this, that this is good, because this grade is equal to the amount of effort you have put in. 

Freedom is to be able to play, to grow, to learn, to achieve, to become, because you, and only you, genuinely want to. 

Freedom is the luxury of living because you want to. Of being good at something, because you want to.

No one can tell you what to do. No one, not even your parents, or your teachers. I can't tell you what to do. You can ignore this blog post and just continue to live life as you've always done if you please to do so.

You know why? Because we're all humans. Because we all want different things. Because subconsciously, we want others to want the same things we do.

Your faith in God should be enough. He The Almighty, should be enough. Let Him soothe you of your fears. Let Him hold your hand as you walk down the path you lay down for yourself.

Because honestly, if you are walking that path quickly, if you are heading straight for the intended destination, but you find that you keep looking back; then you are not free.

You should not have to ask for directions. You should not have to second guess yourself. You should not have to question every factor that has contributed to the existence of this abstract path that you walk on.

You should know. You should know where you are going, you should know the path at your feet like the back of your hand. You should know this, because you should have been the one that built it in the first place.

It will be hard.

It will be so, so, very hard.

But when difficulty comes, happiness also follows.

And when you've achieved happiness, then congratulations.

You're free.

Change

I'm the sort of person that absolutely hates the thought of doing something unfamiliar. But once that unfamiliar thing becomes a routine, when that strange unimaginable act becomes what I live, eat and breathe every single day, I get emotionally attached and will never part with it. But then something happens, something called change. And then the cycle begins all over again.

Change has never been easy. It has also never been very hard.

I think first and foremost, as humans, change is something we try to avoid at all costs. It is after all, human instinct to cry after leaving the water-filled sanctuary known as our mother's womb. We cry because change happens, because we are trust into unfamiliar surroundings, because we are given life and life is hard. Then we forget about time spent in the womb, we get caught up with life and we learn that we love it, then we cry when death comes to collect us from the safe bubble of familiarity we've created here on Earth.

Humans have always been such silly creatures.

But then again, I'm a special kind of human. I'm a Malaysian, born on Malaysian soil where unique customs and traditions are carried out. We Malaysians have always preferred our homes gated, our 'teh's tarik-ed, our education painfully inconsiderate. We are probably the most stubborn people on this planet when it comes to change.

When you think about it, we're also the most easily swayed.

Years ago, when our education system was changed to uphold the English language, people got angry. There were massive debates, a lot of contradicting opinions. The parents were angry. The teachers were angry. More importantly, the students got angry.

Now, as our nation struggles to reinvent it's already flawed education system in a way that prioritises Bahasa Malaysia, people are angry. There are massive debates, a lot of contradicting opinions. The parents are angry. The teachers are angry. More importantly, the students are angry.

While all this happened, 'Change' was busy chuckling at how easily humans can create a big problem out of a tiny bit of unfamiliarity.

Here's a suggestion to those who'll listen. Embrace change.

Instead of taking the short cut to work like you always do, use another route. Get your teh-tarik with extra manis. Say hi to the kids you never talk to. Abandon your routine and improvise. Accept the fact that things change, people leave; life doesn't wait for anybody.  Pop that bubble you're trapped behind, and take a look at the world. It is big, it is here, it is ever changing. It is yours for the taking.

Perhaps then, when we learn to except change, when unfamiliarity is treated as an opportunity to learn, perhaps then we silly creatures called humans will finally be able to move forward from the close minded hypocrites we have all become. Perhaps then, change will become an appreciated constant.

But then again, it's only a suggestion. :)

Lessons

This week was an eventful one.


It's funny how much I learnt in 7 days. Needless to say, the things I learnt will probably stick with me for a very very long time.


On Monday, I really looked around my class for the first time. I saw every bit of it. I saw the twins making faces to each other. I saw the monitor struggle to finish her maths work. The Malay gang were laughing about something. Soo-soo was busy trying to rape someone.


I realised how much I'm gonna miss my classmates next year, when they're all in one class, and I'm in another. 

You see, when I grow up, I wanna be a writer. I made a promise to myself in the beginning of the year. I promised myself that no matter what, even if Allah had blessed me with straight A's for PMR, I'd choose Art stream. Even if I'd be the only one from my class not going for Science stream next year.

So yeah, I just had one of those random moments when you just take everything in, when you suddenly realise that 'Wow, this is my life. I am happy. This is great.' In that moment, everything was just so beautifully sad, I was just so thankful to God for blessing me these three years with these wonderful people. It might be just me over thinking like I usually do, but that one small moment just struck me and stayed. So lesson one kids; appreciate the people you have right now. Because who knows if they'll be around forever. Life is short, people get separated, forevers get cut short. So appreciate who and what you have today, before you have to say goodbye. :)

Sigh.

On Tuesday, after I forced myself out of bed, I dragged myself to school. It was a slow day and nothing much happened until English period.

Then life lesson number two hit me like a train on a track.

I must admit, I'm a procrastinator. Like right now, as I type this up, I'm actually distracting myself from my Maths revision. I'm very very very malas. It's just who I am, I've tried to break the habit, but it's I-M-P-O-S-S-I-B-L-E. So as my classmates expected, I didn't do my English aural.

But being the caring people they are, they shouted out suggestions as soon as the teacher called my name and I stood up and walked to my impending doom.

"TALK ABOUT YOUR FAMILY, CRAP SOMETHING AMIRAH, IT'S 15 FRIGGIN MARKS"
"Just go, gooo! Go!"
"Talk about yourself je, siapa suruh tak buat the aural! She gave us two weeks!"

Madam Kuan gave me an expectant look. I assure you, that woman knows things. She's adorable and sweet and kind and she knows thiiiiings.

She so knew that I didn't do my work. But being the lovely angel that she was, she told me that it was okay, that I could take it slow.

So I did. I was actually considering talking about my family, when suddenly my mouth spoke of it's own accord.

"Today, I'm going to be talking about covers."

Madam Kuan was surprised. I was surprised. But my mouth seemed to know what it was doing, so I just went on with it.

"Covers are uh, I define covers as the layers of protection, or the walls people put up to shield themselves from hurt. Covers are neither physical or spiritual. They are abstract, they are never really there. They are a constant, they are always there. They are complicated, they are a human weakness. They are so many things, but in the end, it is always the same. A cover is used to hide a part of yourself from the world."

At this point of my bullshitting, Madam Kuan began to smile. I think she knew what I was doing, what I was trying to explain. But then again, the woman knew things. So instead of calling me out on my crap, she nodded her head and urged me to continue.

"Uh, well, uhm. In this materialistic world that we live in now, first impressions count. But sometimes, even first impresions can be choreographed, even that accidental slip could be intended to leave people thinking a certain way."

Madam Kuan laughed.

She actually laughed.

I need to make sure she gets a damn good bouquet of roses for Teacher's day.

"...and all of this faking, this pretending, is because of the covers we hide behind. So, we should not judge people by what they seem to be. I have a friend who comes up to me smiling, squealing 'Amirah, want some candy?'. She seems like the happiest person on Earth until she starts talking about what happens at home. Her parents beat her. They hit her for being a 'naughty girl', when she doesn't study as much as they want her too. And yet, she comes to school with the biggest smile on her  face."

Deep breath.

Inhale,
Exhale.

Breathe.

"So at the end of the day, no matter the reason for your cover, tear it down. You may say that you're hiding yourself to protect people, because you don't want them to get hurt as well. But at the end of the day, you'll only end up hurting yourself. So wear your heart on your sleeve and live life honestly."

Madam Kuan scribbled something in that little book of hers and smiled.

"That was very good. You get 14 out of 15. Try to remember and put what you just said onto paper, okay?"

I told you she knew that I was screwed.

So lesson number two is the speech stated above. Oh, and don't be like me, don't procrastinate. Cause you're very very screwed if you don't finish your assignments, trust me.

And Wednesday.

Oh my dear god, Wednesday.

Wednesday was the day of admittance. On Wednesday, I told her that I liked him. I told her, then dissolved into a big crying mess. It was horrible.

I felt horrible.

But because she is the love of my life, she said "Sok's Amirah, sok's" and followed me to the bathroom to wash my face. I was just so glad I finally managed to tell her the truth. I'm so glad that she knows.

So lesson number three is never keep secrets from your friends. I did, and it was shit. When I finally admitted the truth, she said she wouldn't even mind the fact that I liked him even if I'd told her back when they were a 'thing.' She just wishes she wasn't the last to know.

Trust me, it feels great to not have that secret between us anymore.

You should feel this great too. You deserve it. The only way to get there is by being completely, whole-heartedly honest from now on. Okay? :3

...Thursday.

Thursday was awkward day.

Thursday was when someone tapped me on the back while I was enjoying my chicken in the canteen and asked, "Is anyone sitting here?"

Thursday was the day when I said, "No, go ahead", before I realised who poised the question.

Thursday was the day she stared at me and squealed, "ARE YOU AMIRAH QISTINA?"

Thursday, was the day I had to sit down and eat with the elder sister of a boy that everyone keeps telling me has a crush on me. The elder sister of a boy I had just decided was uh, kinda sorta boring.

I bet she thought I liked him.

I bet that's why she stared at me and then shook her head and smiled.

I bet that's why her friends started talking about her bro really loudly in awkwardly fake secret voices.

I high tailed it out of there.

Lesson number four is just stay out of it. Just stay away from the large web that is rumours and gossip and you'll hopefully avoid awkward lunches with sisters that strongly believe you cannot get enough of their little brothers.

And Friday was the day I realised that no matter how hard you work, no matter how good something is, if it wasn't meant to be, it's not going to happen. I also realised that Darsh makes a hot boy. And that Soo-soo needs to control her sexual impulses. And that I should not dress in all black and wear a thick hijab unless I want to be called out and told to 'Go back to Saudi Arabia lah Amirah!" repeatedly.

Friday was the day that the unbelievable happened.

I have to study soon. Those damn midterms are coming up.

Ah well, it was an eventful week.

I deserve a break, don't I? :)

Introduction

How do I make this not awkward?


Whenever I have to make an introduction in real life, I fake a smile, extend my hand and say, "Hi. Nice to meet you."


In return I get a scrutinizing gaze from the stranger and a gentle reminder that not everyone is as fond of physical contact as I am. And usually in situations like these I'll put my hand back in my pocket and hope that the sight of me blushing furiously won't put the stranger off their dinner. Then, I'll just walk away.


Yeah.


I can't exactly do that on the internet, now can I? Because one, there are probably too many (or maybe none at all) hands to shake, to many opportunities to lie. I could tell you that I'm 'a 17 year old bikini model, blogging about my seven months at sea as I try to find myself spiritually' and you'd probably believe it. Heh.

(note to readers: I am not in anyway a 17 year old bikini model. I quote, "NOT A BIKINI MODEL")

Or perhaps I could write down what I usually do when a new school year starts and the English teacher asks us to "take out a G1 exercise book, write your name, then give me a simple introduction." :

My name is Amirah Qistina Bt Hazrin. I am 15 years old. I study at Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan XXXXXXX Kajang. I am a Muslim of Malay descent. My hobby is reading. I have one younger sibling. My father is an accountant. My mother is a Management Officer, or so she tells me. I want to be a writer when I grow up.

Sigh.

But then again, that's the whole problem with intros isn't it? You can say one thing and be another. I bet from that short intro no one would've guessed that after school, I stay at my grandmother's tiny cottage-like house because both my parents aren't home till 8. I bet that no one would've guessed that I have a small scar on my right cheek as a result of my cousin's pinching. (I don't blame her though, I did steal her strawberry balloon)

I could tell you that I'm a doodler, a writer, an owner of seven cats. I hate cheese, I love fast food. I always double-knot my shoelaces. I braid people's hair. I'm an older sister, the third oldest cousin.

I could tell you that I was born in Kajang, next to McDonalds. I could tell you that I'm constantly asked if I'm a mat salleh. I could tell you I started this blog because I think people have things they want to say, but they're not equipped with the proper weapons, the right words.

I could if I wanted to.

Perhaps this would be the right time to mention that yes, this blog's title is a private joke. Ameer Qisti is me, and I am Ameer Qisti. Perhaps this would also be the time to mention that these are misadventures because life throws so many things at you, it's hard to dodge them all at once.

But then again, perhaps it's not.
...

My name is Amirah Qistina Bt Hazrin. I am 15 years old. I study at Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan XXXXXXX Kajang. I am a Muslim of Malay descent. My hobby is reading. I have one younger sibling. My father is an accountant. My mother is a Management Officer, or so she tells me. I want to be a writer when I grow up.

"Never judge a book by it's cover is a saying worn and overused. In reality, you should not judge a book by it's pages, because they make up a bigger story."