Purpose

I really don't like doing things aimlessly, without purpose... Even keeping this blog. Although my initial purpose for starting and keeping this blog going was for the sake of writing itself, I am realising that 'aimless writing' isn't enough of a purpose to motivate me to pick up my phone or switch on my laptop and start blogging.

There needs to be something more...

Perhaps a good place to start is looking at what makes me feel good, what interests and/or inspires me?

From the top of my head:

My Deen Islam
Love
Cars
Chocolate
HipHop

How we roll

I am realising that when you are a Muslim Hijabi chick, rollin' in City of Gosnells, you need to be armed with some HipHop...

I was on Tonkin Hwy a moment earlier in slow moving traffic when my ears caught the exchange between a bunch of young males (keyword: "males"), driving on the right lane beside me. They spoke and laughed loudly, having a conversation I think they intended for me to hear.

POEM: Freestyle

I usually don't "try" to write poetry; rather in a moment of inspiration or deep emotion, I discover thoughts becoming words that beg for an outlet, which develops into one of my poems! However, below is an example of one of those rare moments in which I decided I was going to take out my notebook and force myself to write something, anything, just for the sake of writing, in an attempt to conquer my writing drought. The poetic stream of consciousness written below came about during my travels in March 2011 while I was sitting on the plane with nothing much to do but write...

Putting pen to paper
Writing whatever comes to mind
Unsure of where these black lines forming words will lead

POEM: Australia - A land of beauty

I wrote this poem over 10 years ago, when I was 14 years old! It was such a long time ago, but I think it might've been for a school assignment for my English teacher whose name I still remember, Ms Phang. I thought it would be appropriate to share it today in the spirit of "Australia Day/Invasion Day/Survival Day".

As I stroll along the shore, my feet in the sand
The wind on my face, in a foreign land.
The sun in my eyes, the soft sound of the sea
And the curious stare, of a wallaby.

As I sit in the shade, of a tall gum tree
The crashing waves, I see before me.
The howl of the wind, and a kite flying high
Then as the sun sets, Southern Cross in the sky.

Iman/Faith is like...

...being deeply in love with someone who treats you as though you are the most precious thing in the universe; you just can't help wanting to

Humbled

I'm still overcoming the sweet feeling of being deeply touched...

Yesterday afternoon, I received a random email from someone who had purchased my book from iTunes but was having trouble viewing it on her personal computer. I replied with instructions to download an eBook reader such as Adobe Digital Editions.

In response to my email, after first thanking me for solving her issue, it truly was humbling

Let me be honest

Okay, I'm going to have to be honest...
Writing lately has been painful - too much a chore... It just hasn't been as enjoyable as it used to be.

So I can't help trying to think back to the times when writing was effortless... There must be a significant element I am currently missing. What exactly did I write about back then? Why was I motivated to write? Why did I feel a burning desire to write? What is the problem now?

(Sigh) Perhaps I'll try sleep on it...

Nostalgia

The past week has truly been an interesting one of unexpectedly remembering random things from my schooling days. From the novel collections I used to read, to the boy bands I used to love!

The funny thing about this past week is - since that moment I found myself beginning to think about those times, it's as if my thoughts have drawn in people and things that "take me back" even further to that period in my life.

For instance, just yesterday, while hanging out with a group of friends, somehow we began talking about the music we loved "back in the days"

The Chapter of Living

So I recently published my first book, Unveiling, which is a little bit like an 'autobiography', except that I decided to remain a bit of a mystery by instead sharing my life through my collection of poetry that I've written over the past 14 years. So while I believe my poetry does reflect my personal and spiritual growth, especially through the order I've placed them in, often poetry can be interpreted in various ways and thus they may be perceived differently from one reader to the next.

The past day or so, I was just remembering a statement made by one of my close friends, who was kind enough to proofread my book before I sent it for publishing. After reading the whole book, she said to me that when she got to the end, she couldn't help thinking, "What happen's next?"

Because like any life story, the story will continue until the traveller's last breath... 

(Actually, the story continues even after that last breath, but that's another discussion altogether.)

Thinking about all this just gave me an idea that I'm really excited about and that I plan to put into action very soon!

Claustrophobia

In this multicultural society we live in, it's important to be aware that sometimes, modern fashion can be a source of trauma for certain individuals!

Let us examine this piece of jewellery I came across just moments earlier.

At first sight, my initial thought was: "Wow, how funky is my friend to have chosen such a unique item for an accessory."

So you can just imagine my surprise to suddenly hear our mutual friend, who was sitting between us when she noticed the ring for the first time, suddenly exclaim

POEM: My Silent Friend

She knows my secrets
  The depth of my joys and sorrows
When others see my deceiving faces
  Only she and God hear of my hidden truths

She beckons me to offload my burdens
  But lets me be when she knows the strain
Knows the struggle to form the words
  To move the lips while the eyes shut in the rain

She is considerate, she is patient
  She knows the grievances of my heart
So light is the feeling after she takes my stresses
  And turns them into a work of art

Because she is my words that gush forth
  In songs and passages and poetry
She is my otherwise silent friend
  Who now waits dormant once again.

Purchase "Unveiling" to read more of my poetry

POEM: The space between the words of this title

It is a gift we all possess
  Yet is seldom given
It has no pricetag
  But it has a price
  Yet it is priceless

We have plenty of it
  Yet we have none
Or rather, we find comfort in telling ourselves that it has its own spirit that cannot be tamed
  Yet it very gladly gives in to us when with conviction, we clutch its reigns

We celebrate its progress
  Yet we mourn its inevitable end
It is our enemy
  It is our friend

It is found between these letters, these words, these stanzas
  Between each thought that formed these lines
Found in every day, hour that passes
  Yes - it is the falling sands of Time.

Purchase "Unveiling" to read more of my poetry

Writer's Block - be GONE!

I was just reflecting on how, up until 2007, I was writing almost every moment of the day. I was filling up notebook after notebook with my streams of consciousness, short stories and poetry. My mind was constantly awake, and would even awaken me in the middle of the night and urge me to write some significant thought that couldn't wait till the morning.

But since that fateful year of 2007, (I suppose because of the significant events of that year), suddenly the burning desire and 'need' to write just disappeared. And it just hasn't been the same since these past 4 years...

Nonetheless, instead of just sitting around as I have been, just thinking about how much I wish that damned disease of "Writer's Block" would just leave my system already, my intention for this new year of 2012 is