Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Almost Two Years!

Look, it has been almost two years since my last post in this blog. Goodness me, time really flies that fast. So, Izzati, what have you achieved within this two years? Have you gotten yourself a good, promising job? Have you bought yourself a brand new car? Have you found yourself a nice, comfy home? Have you started continuing your study to master's degree? Have you found yourself a potential, loving future husband? Have you discovered yourself?

I say, yes and no.

There has been some improvements written in my book of life, good ones and bad ones. Since I can't keep my members updated about my life line, I decided to use as the primary medium to those who are highly interested. Those who are interested might simply text messaging me and ask "hey, wassup?"

Nah, they would just say "zati...i miss u..." Yes dears, I miss you all too...

Good for me that I bought my hubby last year. End of last year, to be precised. Can't talk much about him because he is soo dearest to me that I just want to have a single post only about him. Hope you look forward to reading all about him, yeah! :D

Sunday, May 6, 2007

The Keys (Day 1)

"Weh satg aku mai rmh hg nk amik duit. Dlm kul 9.30 ke. Nnt aku smpi aku miskol k." There. I sent this sms to my sister in Akasia hostel. It was around 9 pm when I put my stuff (MUFC green wallet, Nokia 1110i handphone, JPJ Kedah card holder) into my brown sling bag. I put on my favourite jacket, took the sling bag, reached for the "house keys" and straight for the door. I locked the door of our room from inside, got into the living room and pulled the door shut, as confident and sure as chanting the ABC song. "Lets go!" I said to myself happily. I reached for the "house keys" to open the grill outside and looked at it.

"Aik??" It wasn't the house keys I was holding, but the motorcycle keys. Fine. I put my right hand inside the sling bag and searched for the right keys. I searched and searched, I held the sling bag upside down and all its contents fell out. The house keys were nowhere to be seen.

At that moment I could feel the increasing of my heart beat. I went back to the bedroom door and twisted the door bolt. Of course, it didn't open for me. "Alamak..." I whispered to myself. I began to shake the door bolt furiously like an angry Jack the Ripper wanting to get in a room where his victim screams with fear. I tried everything. I shook the door bolt, I picked up a paper clip found in the living room, thrust it in the keyhole and moved the paper clip up and down, left and right like a thief, hoping for the door to be unlocked. I thought it looked easy in movies (television has negative influence on children). But I'm not an actress, so that trick failed too. I began to sweat with nervousness and my stomach did not feel good. I decided to tell someone about this, and Yaya was the first person that I could think of.

"Weh yaya, help! Km trkunci kt living room, kunci km kt dlm blik. Cmna ni?" After a few minutes, she replied: "Almk,siannya hmpa! Cmna leh trkunci? Amoi ada tak?" Oh, I forgot! I ignored her sms and started to type one for Amoi instead, hoping that she would be coming home that night. Even though she wouldn't be able to open the door to my room, at least she could open the front door for me so that I could get help from a locksmith. By the time she replied my sms, I got really, really freaked out. She was at her aunt's house and won't be back until Monday! By the way, this incident happened on a lovely Saturday night. Oh, yes. It was definitely a Saturday Nite Fever for me!

I sat on the floor in the living room, switched on the tv and put on my brain to work. Who else can help me, I wondered. I began to think of anyone who knows how to use paper clips to open a locked door, and I believe guys are experts in this kind of stuff. An sms asking for help was sent to a friend of mine, AF, and he was the only guy friend whom I can ask for help. A few moments of waiting, his sms appeared on my handphone. "Zati maaf, AF ada kt KLIA skrg." Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I felt really sad, but I didn't cry because I actually didn't put high hope on him in the first place (haha).

I had given up forcing the door to open, now I started to think of how to get out of the house. I didn't have the keys for the front doors, so I needed to find an alternative escape. Since every window in the house is grilled, the only way for me to get out was the only window in the kitchen where we hang our clothes to dry. I stood by the window and looked outside. Some motorists were seen around the flat compound, cars and motorcyles came and went. Yup, the road next to my building is quite a busy road. Then, I looked below. There are two floors below mine, and I have to admit that it looked pretty high from where I stood. Oh no, I am not that stupid to simply jump out of the window from the third floor and land on my feet. I'm not a cat and I don't have nine lives. So I looked for any object that I could hold on to in order to get down from the third floor, a rope or something, but found nothing. I went back into the living room, looked outside the window to the far left (I could see our clothes lines from that angle), and I found something. Next to the window in the kitchen, a long white PVC pipe, probably for the rain water from the roof to flow, was attached firmly to the wall all the way to the safe ground below. Yup, I guess that was all I need.

Actually, I was thinking of staying in the living room and wait until my prince charming came to my rescue on his handsome white stallion, or wait until cats grow horns rather than risking my life jumping out of the window from the third floor. But the Death Angel paid me a visit that night and gave me two options: Did I want to die of falling from the third floor, or did I want to die of hunger in my own house? It was a tough one, choosing how I want to die. But then, I chose the first option because it would be a quick death. You see, if I chose the second option, I might die very, very... sloowwwleeee...

So I made up my mind to become a young female version of Tom Cruise in an Impossible Mission to escape from death of starvation. You see, if I wanted to get out of the house through the window, I had to do it on that night. I couldn't wait until morning or I might easily be seen. I sent an sms to Asmah, saying that I wanted to sleep over at her house, but will be a bit late, which was around 11.30 pm. I informed her first so that she would be expecting me that night and she wouldn't go to bed before I arrived. Safely, if possible. I went into the bathroom, found my toothbrush, toothpaste and my Olay facial cleanser and put them all into the sling bag. I turned off the light, switched off the fan, wore my slippers, and headed for the window in the kitchen. For a moment, I just put my elbows on the window sills, stared outside and waited. I could see cars came and parked themselves at the compound below. I must not be seen, so I waited for the right moment. I waited and waited some more. There were times when the coast was clear and I climbed up the window sill. But then motorcyclists appeared out of nowhere, so I had to get down and got back into the kitchen. I didn't want anyone to see a spiderwoman sliding down a water pipe like a firefighter sliding down the pole as seen on tv (it is proven now that television has negative influence on children), and I also didn't want anyone to see the spiderwomen on a window sill, waiting for her opportunity to spin her web.

It was almost 12 midnight and I was still in the house when my handphone rang. It was an sms from Asmah: "Zati, r u cming over 2nite?" I really felt guilty because she had to wait for me, just because I was too afraid to get out of the house through the window. After I sent her an sms saying that I will definitely be there, I put my Nokia 1110i back into the sling bag, gathered all the courage and bravery that I've got, and started to climb back on the window sill. "This time is for real", I thought.

I looked around the flat compound. When I was sure no one was around, I stepped on the metal bar on the right side that holds the clothes lines, my right hand still on the window, while my left hand on the metal bar. At this moment, I was facing the flat compound. Then, I turned myself so that I faced the window. Both of my hands gripped on the metal bar like my life depends on it (which is actually true), and I stuck out my right foot downward to sense a stepping stone just below our kitchen window. By the time I found it, I placed my other foot on it safely and sat there for a moment while giving a chance for my heart beat to return to normal. However, I realized that I must not stay there for long because someone might see me. With both hands, I reached for the water pipe and hugged it. Almost immediately, I put my feet around the pipe and swoosh! Umm, no, it was not the sound of water coming out of the pipe because of my weight, but it was the sound of myself sliding down the water pipe all the way down to safe land. The slide was smooth at first, until I reached the last floor. I knew that they tied some nylon strings on the water pipe as clothes lines, and I was ready for it. But I guess I was too heavy and I slide down too fast, I simply hit the ground and ruined their clothes lines. Seriously, I made very loud noises throughout the dangerous mission. Luckily I didn't scream unconsciously...

As soon as I reached the ground, I let go of the clothes lines entangled to my feet and walked quickly and shakingly away from the crime scene, headed for the road like I did nothing wrong. I glanced around to see if anyone witnessed the crime, and I saw a shadow of a woman at the ground floor window and was about to open it, probably after she heard the noise I made when I ruined her clothes lines. I quickly looked back ahead and walked at normal pace, struggled to act as innocent as possible.

After I crossed the road and I believed I was safe at last from being spotted, I began to feel pain in my palms. I looked at them and saw scratches and torn skin here and there. But my skin wasn't the only thing torn that night. My favourite jacket had also been sacrificed during the escape. The jacket's arms were torn badly and I had to fold them up to my elbows. I walked in pain, dragged my feet (just exaggerating) and headed straight for 7-eleven. I didn't eat anything since lunch, and I was so hungry that eating a horse for supper was not a problem. But I don't like horse meat, so a Slurpee at 7-eleven was just nice. With a cup of Slurpee in my hand, I went to Asmah's flat only to find two oh-so-familiar girls pretending to be guys, both sitting on the see-saw at the playground. I went to join Marni and Kechik, offered them my Slurpee, and even pretending to be a ghost. Kechik was a long-haired ghost from Ju On, Marni was a ghost with a twisted head, and I was just a headless ghost. We hanged out together until 1 am, then I followed them home. Asmah was fast asleep.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

good teacher...good teacher...

During my previous semesters, I was a loser in almost all microteachings. I was so nervous that my hands shook from the beginning till the end of the lessons. And my voice projection, ya Allah, I don’t know how to improve my voice projection. I kept getting comments from my lecturers that my voice was so low that students at the back can hardly hear me. However, I believe that I have improved this semester. Although I still get comments on my voice projection, but not as frequent as before, thanks to all presentations and microteachings I have done so far.

Until this moment, I have done five microteachings and uncountable presentations. Actually I did not think my interest is toward teaching profession. However, recently I have this feeling that teaching is cool after all. Well, it’s cool if your students are university students acting like secondary school students, uh huh. I have no experience in reality teaching, you know what I mean? I’ve never been in real class before, teaching real students. So what I’ve learnt and practiced so far is totally different from what I’ll be encountering in the future. I don’t know, but it might be interesting if I’m able to teach in my late school. Hopefully someday I can be a teacher like “Great Teacher Onizuka”, “Biscuit Teacher and Star Candy” and “Dangerous Minds”, insya-Allah.

Monday, February 12, 2007

story of a girl

I was on my way to the faculty on foot when two primary school children, a boy and a girl with their bicycles caught my eyes. The girl was talking to our faculty guard at the gate when I walked past them, but I could not make out what she said. My intuition spoke that the school girl needed help because normally children would go for men in police uniforms whenever they are in trouble and expecting them to be able to solve their problems. So I stopped and turned to look back at them, trying to figure out what it was all about.

From afar, I heard our guard said to her, “Takpe, naik je. Boleh…” and the girl turned and walked away with her little brother, both pushing their bicycles along instead of riding them. I did not know why I did it, but I started walking back to the gate, took the left turn and jogged slightly to catch up with the two siblings. From behind, I noticed that the girl’s bicycle had a flat tire. Completely flat.

“Adik, tayar pancit ke?” I asked, loud enough for her to hear me. When she looked, I saw her eyes red and moist with tears. Perhaps she noticed my surprised expression upon seeing her cried, and that was why she quickly looked down. There was silence for a few moments while she struggled to get her voice back. She failed, so she simply nodded slightly, still refusing to let me see her cried. I joined her in silence, walked along with her, while her brother pushed his bicycle ahead of us. After a few seconds, when I thought it was the right time to speak, I opened my mouth.

“Tayar pancit kat sekolah ke?” She nodded again, but this time there was eye contact. Her tears had dried out and her eyes were no longer red. I do not remember seeing she wiped her tears.
“Adik sekolah mana?” This time I received verbal answer. “Seksyen 17.”
“Oh, ye la. Mana ada sekolah lain dah kat sini. Adik darjah berapa?”
“Darjah lima.” I could actually feel that this girl began to relax.
Then I popped up the question. “Kenapa tayar pancit? Tak pam dulu ke?”
“Kena paku. Ada orang letak paku kat tayar…” she whined. To prove it, she slowed down but still pushing the bicycle forward with her left hand on the handle bar and her right hand on the seat. Her eyes were fixed on the flat tire, pushing very slowly, waited for the stupid tacks to appear. I saw them. Two thumbtacks stuck right through the tire and definitely tore the rubber tube within.

I had a strong feeling that someone did stuck the tacks in, but we can not simply make assumptions without having any proof especially if we tend to blame other people, so I said, “Adik langgar paku kat tengah jalan kot?”
“Tak, masa saya nak balik dia dah pancit.” So I see. I guess there was someone behind this after all. Then I asked her the reason she talked to our faculty guard before.
“Saya nak tinggal basikal kat situ, kemudian suruh mak saya datang ambil. Tapi pak cik tu tak bagi.” At that moment, I felt very ashamed of our faculty guards. This primary school girl was in trouble, but I hate to think that the guards did not put an effort in trying to help her or at least consoled her. I hate to know that our Malaysian community has no feeling of sorry or empathy, the awareness as well as the responsibility to help others. I mean, what is wrong with letting the troubled 11-year-old girl to leave her bicycle at our faculty? Does anyone even care if they see a young girl pushing her bicycle along with tears streaming down her face?

I offered this girl to bring her flat-tired bicycle to be mended, but she refused. Therefore, there was nothing I could do other than accompanied her home together with her younger brother. I had no idea why I walked along with her, but I just had the feeling that this school girl needed someone to be with her. I know how it feels to walk home with a flat tire because it used to happen to me when I was in secondary school. It was a horrible experience. But to have a useless bicycle because of someone else’s fault, it must be worse.

Monday, January 1, 2007


well done! it's 2007 and i'm still alive, alhamdulillah. when i look back at all the things that i had been through for the past 12 months, it is amazing and i soon realize that my life is truly wonderful. to think of all the major problems that i faced and i got through them successfully, i don't dare saying my life sucks.
i'll be one year older in two months time even though i don't feel like i've changed at all. i believe my cooking skill has no improvement and i still don't favor cleaning the house and i still act like i'm 16-17 years old. but it's okay because like they say, "there's always room for improvement". yup, i'm almost 22 and there's something i need to achieve before this year ends. can't tell you what it is because to you, it is surely not important.
by the way, i had asked mom, dad and kamila for their opinion about my braces. they agree with me: just wear braces on my upper teeth only, braces on my lower teeth are not necessary. my lower teeth are perfect. well, almost... this means shorter period for these ugly braces on my teeth, and less payment for the dentist, hehe.
before i end my first blog of the year, i would like to start this new year with holy words Bismillahirrahmanirrahim. may Allah bless me and you and all the people around us, insya-Allah.