am depressed..

I've been missing from the blogging world for quite a bit, but I thought I'd take some time to share this information with all of you..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_f0QTIsasw&eurl

http://anaksihamid.blogspot.com/2009/01/from-cikgus-note-books-to-ignoramuses.html

*sad sigh*

**thanks to rocky and also kl confidential for the links

around roma in 42 hours

I went to Rome for a short weekend holiday. Ok, I don't think I can call it a holiday cos my legs are still aching from all the walking Farah and I did over the course of three days.

I have never ever, walked so much in my whole entire life.

But I owe Farah a huge gigantic thank you for being such a great travel buddy. If it wasn't for her, I would have never even gone anywhere, as I am -

a) completely idiotic when it comes to directions, even if you stick a map to my head or tattoo it on my body, for that matter

and b) just simple plain hopeless with getting things done on a holiday. I completely switch to 'too-lazy-to-even-pick-up-a-piece-of-toast' mode.

Heh.

But I couldn't do that on this holiday, cos I was the smart one who chose Rome over Barcelona. It was my dream to go back to the place where my parents brought me when I was only knee high. There's a snapshot stored in my mind of a very hot sunny day in beautiful Rome, St Peter's in the background, my parents smiling at my sister and I, whilst we played (read: scared away) the pigeons near the fountains close to the entrance of St Peter's. *click* Very happy times.

So, yeah, Farah was kind of persuaded to go. She's just too kind and polite to say, 'no Cukulut, lets go to Barcelona.'

She did, however, tell me that I should not bring my usual heels for our brief trip. Very wise words which thankfully I listened to, cos we were close to fainting by the time we finished our 14-hour trek around Rome on Saturday.

From the moment we arrived (a delayed flight, wrong bus stop PLUS some rain - puhlease don't ask me to elaborate) to the FULL day of walking on Saturday and nearly missing our flight back to London on Sunday, I enjoyed every second and step of our very hectic yet fruitful trip.

So my dear friends, I'll spare all of you my crazy ramblings and allow the pictures to speak for themselves. I bid you Arriverdeci and buona notte as at this moment in time, I can barely piece two sentences together. I honestly think I left my knee caps near the reject marbles found near the old Palatino ruins, my mind along the walls of the Sistine Chapel and my heart atop St Peter's Basilica.

*sigh*

Ciao...

* arissa iman *

I would like to welcome lil Arissa Iman...we'll spoil you rotten and that's a promise!

Congrats Farrah Naz and Zaidi.


Welcome my lil currypuff!

night, after night, after night...

I wake up gasping for air, it’s the same dream, yet again, night after night, after night...

I shudder and blink my eyes as I try to balance my world, which seems like I am trapped in a crazy kaleidoscope of colours and images which swirl devilishly around me. The misshapen loud illustrations jump at me as if they have a life of their own, coming at me with a vengeance, making me suffocate at the scale of intensity that is reserved only for me…or that is how it seems to be.

I am now sitting upright in my bed, my hands clutch my purple duvet close and tight , so tight that my knuckles hurt and turn white.

Focus, focus on a spot, my heart tells me, and everything will be alright.

I hug my knees and count to ten. Images begin to take shape and I am able to make out the edge of my bed and the haphazard array of shoes in one corner of the room.

After several minutes have passed by, my mind is now able to convince my heart that the room is familiar territory. My eyes turn to glance at my clock. The digital numbers glare at me through the darkness like beady eyes of some ethereal creature. I can barely make out the numbers.

I wake up every single night, amazingly at the exact same time. 3 o’clock..it’s called the witching hour and I understand why.

The eerie silence of the hour makes me remember the dream, and I feel tears start to well up in my eyes. I try, try so hard to blink back the tears and force them to reside within me, and not spill unto my chubby morose cheeks.

My attempts are in vain as the tears just accumulate into a big succession of heart wrenching sobs. The type of sobs that make your body convulse for just one breath of air, the tears you shed when someone dies, the moans and heartache you reserve for a love that was so profound but alas is lost.

The house is quiet and I try to muffle my cries by burying my face in my pillow.

my heart aches…

pines for air…

for love…

for life…

As my tears subside and finally all senses begin to form a delicate equilibrium of mismatched conclusions, I rest my head on my pillow and stare at the wall..wishing and hoping that if I focus long enough, a big black hole will appear out of nowhere and swallow me whole.

This dream will haunt me for a long time to come, I know. It is something I will never forget, though my heart will always wish that someday it will go and leave me alone.

Image taken from: http://www.photoshopcafe.com/cafe/