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My hands felt bloody cold, though the sweat trickled down my neck from the heat off my body. My fingers carefully touched the mouth of the seal and began to rip it open, with every pull shrieked a tear. My heart beats faster. In a minute's time, the result would be obvious.

A silver hope of confidence burst out of me as I ripped the last flap of the seal from the paper folder. I kissed the seat and opened the envelope that reveals two of the most important paper of my life at this point. I took a deep breath, shoulders and chest high up in the air. My fingers shivered a little bit, then I drew it out.

Perhaps I was expecting too much that I am subconsciously prepared for the worst, or at least what was expected. My shoulders fell pulling down a hunched back as if a crate of rocks tumbled on it. My eyes were dead when I spotted the C's, then completely stripped from its liveliness when the two subjects I hoped for had rested with Bs. I looked into the envelop for more paper, surely this isn't just it? Surely I had more As? I was sure I had worked for it!

None. I fell back to the cushion seat as soft as leaning against splinters. All the heat rose up to my head, and I was drained in confusion. The sun shone brightly against the empty sky bristled and blinded me. My ears were could not receive anything. Numbness was felt and I could not move my body as freely as I want. Everything had no life.

It was only those few seconds of deep silence and remorse did I realise that I'm in for it. Trouble is waiting at bay and I am drawing nearer to it. I pulled all my energy to focus on Dad in the front seat. He did not move, he did not flinch. I could not tell the emotion out of the man. It was then he turned his head half to my direction and asked for the papers. Hesitation held me, but to hold it for longer is to sign a death warrant. So I drew a white flag and surrendered.

He read it out loud. His confidence was significant though my hearings were frail. I was unsure what I could make of it. He did not look happy, he did not look sad, nor driven by anger. What's really on his mind? Is it bad?

He gave back the paper to me politely for me to keep in the envelope. I did, and with all my anger gushing in a moment, I wished I would have brought a match with me to burn it.

Dad was surprisingly ok with it. He joked a little, and tried to make things better. Even so, such devices at such times could not avoid the heavy silence that followed right after, prolonging most of the journey home.

I wasn't too sure if I am in a land full of mines, or that my safety was well assured but I sure was lost. I could not decide where to rest - my bed, the computer table, or on the sofa. I was itching to forget, but I did not know what to do. I turned on my iPod, but it just sounded like a radio full of anonymous songs clearly not suited to the mood. Nothing was right, and it was a cycle I've grown to hate over the years. It has gone on for hours.

One thing was clear... Mum cried. Of tears of happiness or sadness, that has yet to be revealed.

It took long for me to realise.

Until the month of Ramadhan, the late age of 16 had I realised how beautiful the sound of adzan, the way the Imam reads aloud his recitations. How I wish to know Arabic, so that the stories of the Al- Quran would unfold and reveal its greatness to me. How I had realise that a mere believer like me is not enough to prove my belief towards Him. There are so many things I did not know, which I had unfortunately taken for granted. It took me the holy month of Ramadhan to realise, for all these years. I would not question Your teachings whenever I can help it. For You are the Merciful, The Forgiving, the Great, the Mighty Allah. The Creator of all Worlds.

Like analysing a black and white picture.

After scrolling down page after page, reading tentatively to each word stitching together to sentences, I felt as if my feet lifted the ground then sucked in to a realm where fantasies and dreams comes true. By the time I reached the end of the page, my heart was pounding. I uncomfortably settled myself in my seat as I considered the possibility of, while I fight my emotions with embarrassment.

My pride won over my emotions and I closed the word document.

At one frail moment, I sat very still realising what I had just done. That this might be what had kept me from giving in for all these years. What had held me from expressing myself freely, distorting and manipulating my emotions without my knowledge – why it just comes as natural. What caused it, might be from the failure of my first few relationships, maybe?

I shook my head to come back to my own senses. It is what had made me who I am today. My actions to stay as stern as a brick wall saves me in several occasions from further fatal destruction of my self-esteem which I tried hard to keep up.

I resume my internet surfing like nothing happened. The thought of the fiction was greatly appreciated, but it still makes it what it is – a 'fiction'. Merely something made up, that might not even come true. It's nice to think about it though, maybe I fancy having those moments as a dream in the upcoming nights.

It's amazing how I could easily ignore and take things to my own control.

In the distant fracture of my mind, I know that control does make me emotionally impaired compared to everybody. Shredding off hopes and worries for later are the best way to ignore your feelings, and finally, forget about them.

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This makes this. Looking at the way I write- like how I usually write – they are nothing but information. About how I felt, about what I thought. Never a given theme, never a given atmosphere, never include enough 'senses'. It's the present, the fact, and the still.

Just as I was analysing a black and white picture.

I don't understand why?

I may not be the person with the word and complete understanding, but I am learning. During the season of Ramadhan, I was brought closer to my religion that it is by time I should learn some more things about it. It was then I came across of people on the internet having 'problems' about the religion.

But I just don't understand why people address Islam as being stereotypically violent? Yes, they have some twist and turns in their history (and like other religions too) , but it's a religion serving for the Greater Purpose. Why do people believe in these things, what do they owe to media to make them think like this?

It is not a forced religion. It is not a violent religion. It is not a fanatic religion as well. In fact, it's everything the otherwise. Islam believes in One True God (peace be upon him), and teachings in the way of life are written from the Holy Quran for guidance of the human being. It is a pure gentle religion - pure in its sense. For example, Cleanliness is one of the priorities to keep in Islam, for a healthy and bright lifestyle - which is why you take wudhu before you pray. Another is praying - the practice is merely like an exercise five times a day. Exercise are really important, who wouldn't do without being unhealthy? And Alas, to become a believer you are not forced into it. Allah says that when embracing Islam, it has to come from the heart, their own interest. Only then they would become good believers, and be accepted fully in Islam. If not then believing something you don't believe or practice only does more harm to you, and to the religion itself. So it is up to the person, to choose to accept and love, or to groom in hate but with a show of respect, for the religion.

I know the things I say might be biased to you, but I saw the neutral side of things. I completely understand why people turn Catholics, turn Jews, or even became atheists. Some people prefer things the way they are, some people want to have faith to brighten up their life, some people want to overcome things through their mind and body.

Although there are conflicts between religion, but religion serves and has lead a good purpose that can be seen today. Togetherness, Moral Values, Appreciation, Faith, Belief - all that brings people together as one in peace and serenity. A way to distinguish a right and wrong, and increase in spiritual awareness to have better lifestyle. It depends which you believe in.
Personally, I believe in Islam being the purest- that's my own honest opinion. I think some people should take the initiative to learn about the religion more. It's nothing like what you see on television - nothing at all like that.

So stop complaining, and stop getting in the way of people who are interested in Islam. Let them learn more about it, it is their choice. By preventing, it's like stripping toys from a child and build a concrete wall around them. No one likes people getting in the way of their ability to explore. It would only bring more curiousity and feed more interest. Preventing the spread of the religion due to relations, is the same. A person has the free will to believe, and if does not stick to the person, then believe me the person would not want to crawl for it. If it attaches to them, then why prevent it?

The least you could do is to give some exposure of the religion you don't want him or her mixing with, but on the fair side of the arguement. No biased sides, so that the person would only at the very least, devote respect towards it.

Dreams

I couldn't remember what I had dreamt. I would wake up in the morning, remembering a bit of the information like the 'feeling' of the atmosphere, but as soon as I lift my head from the pillow - everything would just evaporate. Could be the extension to my short term memory loss over where-I-place-my-things habit? Could it be that I am losing my grip in the sense of recalling? Is this the early signs of aging off?

I am aware that sometimes dreams are better forgotten. Even so, the more I think of it, the more I crave for it. Dreams are like theatre shows that writes a script consisting of mixed experiences, and you are often the star. It portrays mood, and it indicates if you're troubled or contented etc. Dreams can help boost up your creative mind. It can inspire you to do a lot of things!

That is why I decide to want to remember what I dream every night. It doesn't matter if it's about someone I fancy, something to do with my personal fears, emotional events of the past. It makes me think a little bit, and hopefully spice up the routine I'm following a little bit.

It might be embarrasing to admit, because I would never really allow myself to admit. I was sort of expecting something exciting to come up in my dreams, something that tears from reality. Certain someone to appear. It's a star I was inspired to, that's all. Who wouldn't want?

Arguements

There was a bit of a twist of mood tonight.

In a distant I heard the gate lock, the car lock, the doors clicking. I was getting ready a video that would maybe send them laughing, kept it on pause. The door swung open, and I heard a mumble. It got louder, and louder. I was frozen, it couldn't be could it? They went up storming. The music was dead. I stopped at my tracks. Voices were raising, and I shivered, facing my back against, just keeping it still.

Then there was ignorance between. The Music remained dead. I kept my attention to the computer quietly. How is it going to go?

Seperate rooms now, then the glorious silence. I immediately turned to Blues Rock and gave all my confusion to the guitars.

It hadn't been bad for two weeks, now it surfaced quite unexpectedly. I'm not going to leave home if we stand as the reason. I don't want things to happen before. Never again.

I close my eyes. The carpet was soiled. There were low breaking voices close to tears. I was happily skipping down a second ago, but the next was still on the spot. Half an hour till we assemble for the exam. There it was grounding, the earthquake. Awestruck, I broke down and cry, I didn't like being in the middle, I would rather spend it all off alone in the bedroom. After all of it, I gradually stepped into the crowded library with a red nose, sat down on the computer table, and stopped. I left a bit of my knowledge back where I dropped those tears. My hands began to shake, I began to tumble. That night it was pleasant and it went like a dissipated tropical storm. I never thought, never think, never want to think, of that significant event ever again.

I opened my eyes, and starred blankly on the computer screen.

a sense I am messing

Guitars by Eric Clapton, John Lennon, Keith Richards playing Yer Blues by Lennon/McCartney down in Youtube made me in love with the way their guitar talks. The expressions while they play - priceless. Solos, priceless. It just makes me want to roll on my guitar and feel the rock blues.

Investigating and going through the comments, people had inspected that Keith Richard's Bass was out of tune. Out of tune and out of it, and I wasn't able to detect it. I couldn't even detect if my guitar is out of tune, and that's the most basic thing that any guitarist should learn : to get in tune.

It's like a disorder to be laughed at if you're out to set yourself playing for a band, or just rolling.
I want to get rid of this disorder, if not - how am I going to properly learn what's rock and roll, what's blues rock, what's anything about guitars and their worth.

I must press my ears gently to the echoes of the sound and affirm the notes.
Even if it involves listening for hours. I just want to jam, and if I could I'll jam like legends to my heart's content.

Love Sick

Everyone's talking about love. Everyone's sayin' they got the fever. Everyone's shoutin' they need someone. Well let me tell somethin' that I am not gonna fell for the spell. I ain't gonna have them fever. I can walk the couple district with my own two feet thanks. Imma always thinkin' about that special feeling, is it special at all? Science say your things, It's all in the mind.

A feebish attempt and slightly influence by the easy-flowing lyrics of rock and roll.

Anyway, what it all leads to is why? Why is everyone over reacting about this certain feeling? Yes we are human, but is there a need to be acting like you're available and playable? As if your whole life is reserved for the special someone but yourself and yet you find it fun to do. It's a whore's job, so pay your attention to something else - and act very sane until the time comes. I believe in a love so pure and untouchable, unapproachable with merely any attempts of a flirt.

And yet they say I am not experienced. After regretting some naive experiences of early love bugs, I constantly repel myself from the spell - and analyse a two lover's psychology from a distant. It's funny that people can jump to conclusions, when all they need is to stop and think for a second or two. I used to think these kind of things are unavoidable, but they can be repelled. It's all in the mind!

But I do end up fantasising something I could never get.

Visiting hometown.

We boarded the plane, and my heart skipped a beat. Sitting in the usual group where sammy, my sister and myself sit in unison (and always drifted myself away from their yaoi conversations), I started to wonder - How's everyone? Are they any different? Have they changed? Are they used to a life wihtout me? How long has it been anyway?

My head swirled with questions. I couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous meeting my family, my friends, my hometown.

It hadn't been how it used to be. With the company of a friend in Oman, I felt that I brought along the personality I had developed there to here as well. I didn't switch back to reminisce the old times, and that's how it felt so very different. I saw through everyone and pushed away the desire to copy, to follow along, to just be how I am. For the more reasons, I stuck myself with my friend who does not speak the local tougne to make her feel at home. Also, to prevent myself to be sucked in the false fiasca. They would understand if I divided my attention equally.

Why are the roads so small? Why aren't there loads of people like how it used to be? Why is Mercedes shrinking? Why didn't I come across anyone I might know of?

They called me an oldie - that I had a wierd taste in music. It's just the way I liked it, being different.

Finally, I didn't get to comment much about the food because I simply didn't have much. Yes, I fell sick with a spinning head, overheated body, and dry throat. The very next day, I was screened for any detection of swine flu carrier on the way to Brunei. I wasn't caught, so I was feeling much better.

I might have been a carrier of swine flu though, but it was brief- and thank god.

Flying from countries

Come to think of it, there were a lot of flying. It's much more than I would have thought, being on the air. Is this how wanted celebrities feel like when they have a concert to catch up in the next continent? Then there was so much time to waste just doing nothing.

But enough about flying. What about the places to visit? The glorious English land that I have heard so much. Ah, the British air, a little droplet of your blood through the traces of my own line of blood tingles. But alas, I am just a tourist to your land. My oh my, it is a busy little city.

Paris, the land of love. Of high dominating architectures such as the Eiffel, then the home of artists. Ah, Tour de France were certainly taking place while we were there. There's that cold rainy day, and we just simply ran into the sheds but enjoying every trickle. The environment is just admirable. But the tougne which knows no other seems so foreign, even to my tougne which has the knowledge. Maybe it was shy.

Then we were off to our baseland, my home country. Or, as ignorant as I was when I was small, the world as I came to see it. My eyes were immune to the trees, the high rised buildings that were not living up enough to the standards, the people all shiny and sweaty as they walk past. But bringing my Muscat self, a built and updated personality, back here opens up a new eye. How could I've been so blunt all these years. It really seemed different. It's like stepping into a different environment, another world really. I began to see the forests crowned with magnificent creatures, the people as helpful and trustworhty as ever, and technology building all over the place. Does it really only take fetching a friend from Muscat to break that naughty perception and ego that I have built everytime I come back home? Bless. I'm not afraid to show who I am to anyone anymore.

And now, back home again. Muscat. All the Air condition's broke, and it's even too hot to sit and write away on the blog.

Caption Commenting

they say i am clumsy. i had fries in my pocket. they say i am bitchy. aren't all girls the same?

This comes from a Facebook profile, by someone I know. It's quite sensitive. But it does keep me wondering though about a million things, just exploring the perspective of the person who submitted it.

Describing herself as clumsy would mean she has been observing herself, assessing her qualities while exploring her personalities. The step seems natural for a teenager to become curious of their personal traits. On the otherside, it does mean that she overall gives out a negative vibration about herself and the others around her of the same gender. This negativity engraves doubt of the people around her and herself. Assuming this, she might have gone through the sort of same condition or environment for her mind to close itself from arriving to a rather positive conclusion.

Because for all you know females and males are same but only wired very differently. Females mature physically and mentally earlier than males, but the mental format for each and everyone is not very the same. This theory does not really apply to everyone, depending on the environment they grow up in. So everyone's the same, and everyone's different.

Remember, words are expressions. Expressions are biased depending on the person's inner thoughts. Thoughts (or simply the 'voice'in your head) selects the vocabulary. These variety then affects the emotion which then creates expressions. See how they are related?