rape

Rape.

A strong word used to describe a person who undergoes physical force or duress to have sexual intercourse.

It is a sensitive word, especially to the female population. Not to say that the opposite gender does not suffer as victims of this vicious act, but it definitely rings a bell to the rest of us women, simply due to the injustice that we have received on our end whenever such a tragedy happens. It is deeply unfortunate, infuriating and saddening for us.

So, why is it so bad for us to hate or dislike the word? Say whenever someone takes the word in vain and use it to define some other concept that has NO CONNECTION WHATSOEVER to what that person wishes to deliver. For example:

1. insta-rape : used to describe whenever a person's Instagram is hijacked
2. "Germany raped Brazil in last night's match!"

Clearly, in both of these scenarios, no one was actually raped. 

Okay, and then you come back at me by saying, "Why are you so sensitive? We don't mean it LITERALLY."

Sure.

Go ahead and misuse the word. Go ahead and attach porn to any other word there is out there too. Foodporn, catporn, etc.

Go ahead and attach these vulgar terms in your sentences; a staple in your dictionaries. String them between your teeth and make it a norm in your daily conversations. This includes all the other vulgar words out there. I don't have to list them out. You would surely know.

And by then the kids in kindergarten would start blasting out f-bombs over their lunchboxes during lunchtime. Teenage boys would call girls the b-word and the girls wouldn't mind because, oh you know, it's normal. No need to get so worked up about it! 

Oh and hey, great news! Your future kids will call you a regular a-hole! And they will tuck in the word rape every so often in between their conversations to describe something that is not actually, guess what? RAPE!

So tell me, how is it okay to rape a person? Never? Okay.

How is okay it to use the word "rape" in vain? Explain.

//delete

I am awake at 0133 hours to look for other alternatives to discard my thoughts.
I said to myself, "I don't want to be bitter." I felt that writing out my unuttered words would bring me some solace.

I don't know if it ever could. Maybe. Perhaps to a certain extent.

I'll start with this:

Will you ever stop crossing my mind?

if you could have one miracle

Ramadhan.
It's leaving, just as fast as it came. And all that's left is the last 10 days of this holy month which is when Lailatul Qadr is said to be present amongst us.

All prayers will be answered during this night. So, what do you pray for?

Health?
Success?
Kids?
Love?
Hidayah?

Often we lose ourselves in the pursuit of the dunya. We wish for materialistic things, and even if we pray for our well-being, like mercy from God and for our sins to be forgiven (which is all great, don't get me wrong), did we stop and think about how that one dua could be a savior to someone else? Someone other than ourselves.

Like our brothers and sisters who are starving.
Like the kids who lost their parents in war.
Like world peace.

Who would you lend your hand to?
Who would you give prayers to?
Who would you save?

fudgesicles why do I get the feeling that I've been writing about the same stuffs lately

fudge it's like deja vu

I'm supposed to be reincarnated into a different caste, not born again the same person (by me, I meant my writing)

one woman show

So, how do you expect one to open up and for you to not do the same?


I'm not really in favor of letting someone else wholeheartedly into my life. I do keep things to my own; my flaws, my problems, my reasons and explanations. But I guess opening up and letting someone in is the fundamental of forming a relationship. We wouldn't have friends if we're like that, eh?

It's not a secret that I bottle things up. I've always had this guard up but am so welcoming when it comes to being there for someone else. I'd empty my "bottles" and let the other person fill them up with their rants, secrets or problems. This is what I am. And this is what I do best. I love to the carry the burden of other people and let no one else carry my own. I love being the shoulder to cry on, the one who wipes the tears away, the one who will listen and give you a hug afterwards.

I take after my mother in a sense that I am always the one who has to be strong for others.
This explains why it's not easy for me to simply let it all out. The rule to being strong: never show your weaknesses.

Now, this is me, saying that I'm exhausted.
I'm tired.
And for once, I wish that someone else would let me in for letting them in.

"If you're being strong for everyone else, then who's going to be strong for you?"

I have no idea.

nyan

Don't mind me (or the posters at the back, those are not mine). Just having a kitty photo that's all.

No. I don't know what to think right now.

Just... no.

if you need a happy post, don't read this

Today marks the end of my first semester here in Iowa State.
I must say that it took quite a while for me to get here, but in the same time felt like 5 months whizzed before me like a cyclone (pun intended).

Be warned that from here on, this post will be one of those cliche-as-hell-I-just-got-an-epiphany kind of posts. Hey, I'm the new kid on the block here (literally, I will explain), so let me have my have my moment as I contemplate the purpose of my existence in sublime thoughts. Shaiza~

So for starters, let me try and recap what I've been through upon arriving in America conveniently in the form of bullet points:

• I set foot on American soil for the first time in my life accompanied by the wonderful presence of my darling parents (who decided to come along with me and help me get settled).
• I had roommates for the first time. I have to say that this was quite the experience.
• I learned what it's like to live on your own and managing things by yourself (MAJOR adult things if I might add).
• I adapted to the American education system a while ago, but this time, I had to actually participate in an American-centered classroom. Well, let's not be racist here. Students of other races and ethnicities holds a big number of percentage in the ISU population too. 
• I participated in a parade (this time without playing any instruments), did some volunteering and also was an active member in some of the heritage clubs (mostly of my own/Malaysian).
• I learned how to play futsal.
• I found out how it feels like to be in a long distance relationship.
• I realized that sometimes I'm too nice and taken advantage of.
• I also realized the importance of my decisions; what to do, who I surround myself with, how will this benefit me, etc.
• I learned how to carry myself better, stick to the values I believe in and not give a damn what others think of me.

The list goes on and on. And yes (here it is), I have learned A LOT.

It's funny what 5 months living in a new environment with new people can teach you. I've seen and heard all of the bad, the good, the in-betweens, and more. For every good thing that's happened here, there's always something negative to counter it. I know it sounds like I might be weighing on the bad side of things more and maybe you think that I'm a spoiled brat that has had things easy for her her whole life, but these things tend to bother me a lot. Even so, I'm thankful because if it weren't for these challenges, I'd never mature into the person that I am today.

Homesickness was not in my dictionary until this one day where the universe turned its back on me and left me there to crack in the smallness of my curled up self, under my blankets, frozen and cold as the snow outside my window. Loneliness has its way of swallowing you. It creeps slowly like sunlight during the crack of dawn; slithering past the blindfolds and on its way to the edge of your bed, tickling the edges of your toes and slowly licking you up until it reaches your hair. By then you're consumed with all sorts of thoughts, and like the sunlight, even though harsh on you, still heavenly and hurtful.

Heavenly in a sense that it brightens up the space in your mind, those compartments and boxes of which you tucked in so many things left unsaid, shadowed in the deep corners of your soul. 

Loneliness makes you think.

Hurtful in a sense that you've got no one to share it with. All of those compartments and boxes, opened up and liberated during this short period of time with that great urge of laying it all out on the floor, and having that strength, only this time around, to put it all into a puzzle and to understand the complexity of one's being... didn't happen. That hope unfulfilled; those words wanting to be let out, expressed only in strolls of tears streaming down your face like a bleeding faucet.

They say, "wear your heart on your sleeve."

As much as I am an open book, I don't think that's possible. Fret not, spring is in full bloom.

I hope the fields in me will too. 

"Postcards"

"Still now, I send letters into space
Hoping that some mailman somewhere will track you down
And recognize you from the description in my poems,
And he will place a stack of them in your hands and tells you,
'There is a girl who still writes you
She doesn’t know… how not to.'"

more than anything else

I want to be closer to God.