Murky Clarity

We All Have Issues

I just finished reading Jay Asher's "Thirteen Reasons Why". I definitely will write a review on it; it's such a good book. The story deals with the 'snowball effect', where little things, mean things, callous things, all amount to one girl taking her life.

Sure, taking your own life is a decision you make on your own. Blaming others is unfair, as if justifying the wrong thing you're doing. But I can relate to Hannah Baker in the book. Sometimes life gets too much, too scary, and even though you're surrounded by people who care about you, sometimes you feel all alone. And when you want so desperately to find one reason to cling on to life, someone will disappoint you. How do I know? I tried taking my own life, once. I still have the scars on my right forearm.

The One That Jumpstarted My Journey

I think I've mentioned much earlier that I started writing (and publishing) in 1997, back when I was in Form 4. 'A Mother's Love' -- that's the name of the story published in Garudamas, my school magazine. A Fantasy, about a family of wolves. I still wince whenever I read the story; I can't believe I was so proud of it!

 

Stopped writing after Form 5, and restarted in 2001. Back then I had plenty to express, and writing short stories had been an outlet for all my frustrations and wants. Some of the stories were dark, but most were filled with a longing to belong. Long story, one I'd rather not delve into. I stopped writing again, and restarted in 2004. Didn't produce as much, and I have to admit, they were still amateurish. Not that my stories are any professional now, but still. After I started working, I lost touch with this facet of myself. I was happy, I was busy, I didn't have that many things to vent.

 

Then, late 2008, Tita found me on Friendster (yes, I still have the account, though I've not accessed it for over a year now). She was the one who pushed me to rediscover writing. She also pushed me to enter the MPH-Alliance Short Story Competition, whose deadline was end March 2009. I contemplated on it, but I knew I had to hone my skill first. I don't have formal training, so my earlier writings were all intuition and no knowledge whatsoever of the rules. I started buying books on writing, one after another, sometimes 2 to 3 at a time. And I have to be honest; they don't come cheap. Prices range from RM60 to over RM120. Before buying these books, I had been buying books and magazines on photography, a passion my siblings and I share. So that kind of prompted me to buy books on writing. I thought, "Hey, if I can learn photography through these books, why not writing?" Why not, indeed.

The Door Opens Wider

As I said earlier, I had a patient at around 03:00. When I got back to my room around 03:20, 2 emails came my way. One will potentially change my life forever:

I'm relieved to report that your story (now retitled "Act of Faith") has been accepted by editor Wilson da Silva for the December 2010 issue of COSMOS. The fee offered is $AU 300.00. I hope this is acceptable. Sorry again for the delay. Damien Broderick

This will me my first professional market sale. I'm getting around RM750, and that's a HUGE amount for a short story, but most important is that it will open doors. Most professional markets will only look at writers seriously if they have another professional market credit. COSMOS has over 100,000 readership, and stories there get reviewed by people that carry weight in the Science Fiction market. I'm not sure if people will take it well, as the story is about a robot embracing Islam, but still. Once this story is published, I can no longer be considered a 'new writer'. Some markets will be closed for me, but a bigger pool has just opened up. Exciting times.

A new Raya experience

Working during the first day of Raya wasn't so bad, after all. Sure, Shiraz called me at 01:30 to make sure I wasn't wallowing at home, all alone (he read my previous post). Nadiah invited me over (not in the middle of the night. For Raya. You pervs). But the following morning was something else altogether. I wore my best baju melayu to work. The one that cost me RM700, initially worn when I was IZ's best man. Needless to say, people were impressed. Some even took photos. Hah!

 

Anyway, it drizzled all morning, but instead of casting a certain gloom, it made the atmosphere pleasantly cooling. I brought the lemang along, and gave 3 to each ward. The nurses brought other kinds of food, so after ward rounds, we had a blast eating. Everyone loved the lemang I brought. Been buying it for years, so I didn't notice the high quality. The whole day was quiet-ish, and knowing how my calls usually are, my colleague Irina got highly agitated when I had no cases to discuss. Had one big case, though, a perforated gastric ulcer (in plain English: a man had a gaping hole in his stomach, with all the stomach contents spilling out and contaminating the space between the bowels).

 

Managed to finish 2 movies, Forever Strong and She's the Man. Yeah, talk about how free my call was. Still, had a case near midnight, and another at 03:00. So in the end, I managed to sleep about 4 hours before I could safely leave the hospital. Bought McDonald's Big Breakfast on my way home, and I arrived just about the same time Reza did. Opened the door, and almost gagged at the stench of cat waste. Both Keeno and Chiqa were hungry, so fed them first before I cleaned piss, shit and vomit. All three. Joy. Had breakfast, took a quick shower, and left home at 09:30. Had cat fur all over me from sending the two rascals to the vet for boarding. Amost broke my heart, seeing the fear and sadness in their eyes.

 

So. Streets were clear. Reza drove at a leisurely speed, and we made it to the bust terminal around 10:05. The bus was already there, and I didn't want to keep Reza waiting, so I boarded the bus after buying drinks (his treat). Initially planned to continue reading Breaking Dawn (yes, I do read the Twilight Saga), but the guy beside me was the friendly type, so we ended up talking half the trip. Slept for a while after that, woke up intermittently due to discomfort, and finally arrived in JB at 15:15. Paksu and Fizal picked me up, and we went straight to Mama's cousin's house. Slept in the evening, woke up in time to eat lontong (been craving for it, sigh). So here I am, staring at my laptop, with my phone tethered as a modem. I can't live without the Internet, I tell you.

 

Oh. I know this post is mundane as mundane can get, but I have something big to share. It deserves a post of its own, though. Selamat Hari Raya from JB!

And to all, a good night

I knew this day would come. All my life, my family and I would drive back to JB to celebrate the Eid (or Raya, in my language) the day before Raya itself. I can still recall our trips back in the days before the North-South PLUS highway. It would take us between 6 and 8 hours to get there from KL. My parents would be up front in our silver Isuzu trooper, with Kasha sprawled across the back seat, and Faiz and I, well, our parents would organize our luggage, the food warmer, a large number of tubs and containers filled with rendang, biscuits, cakes, and other foodstuff, and then lay the pink-and-gray-stripes sofa mattress over the cargo. That was where my brother and I hung out for the duration of the long drive. We would always stop at this particular mamak shop at Yong Peng, and Mama would take the chance to do some pottery shopping (typical).

 

Back then, Raya used to be magical. Partly because we were eligible to collect packets of money whenever we went visiting relatives, or when they came to our grandparents' homes. But most important, we got to meet up with our grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Yeah, we're bad relatives that way, only meeting up occasionally (at least once a year, though).

 

But life happened. My favorite cousins, the Roslans, moved to Perth in 1989. Then my dad's parents passed away one year apart. Dad's siblings sorta drifted apart (family drama). We made new traditions. Every year, on the first day of Raya, we would go visiting our grandparents' graves. We would always get ourselves lost, but whenever I go there, I can recall their general position, as well as the grave numbers. We'd stay at Mama's parents' house for the whole duration of our stay in JB, and when we could no longer visit relatives in Singapore (more family drama), we'd meet them at my grandparents' house.