Understanding Vampires

Before my grandmother died, she had a dream and she screamed to my mother to run. When asked, she said the house was on fire. And my mother believed that's the sign. The sign that she's gonna 'leave' home.

Today i had a dream and it's about the same. I don't believe in spiritual beliefs. But i do believe our body can detect a vision of future. Even if it's in a matter of seconds. Again, it's not that i truly believe that i'm gonna die.

And again, it doesn't mean that i don't wanna die. Or i'm afraid of dying. I do have fears of dying. But i have complete different view of death now. And it doesn't scare me much as before.

It's just that, i'd rather be the one who dies than seeing the ones you love die. It's really unbearable. It leaves you with guilts, memories, unachieved dreams, regrets, many sleepless nights... and it's so painful.

Now, i understand vampires. Why they don't like their immortal lives. We always heard they said they hate seeing their loved ones died. And i know what they mean now!

Lost Home

Happiness is too far away for me. But, the truth is, i'm always happy. It doesn't take much to make me happy. Buy me a hair tie, a ball of yarn, a free sample... i'd be smiling ear to ear.

In fact, i've never had a big dream. An expensive dream like some people. Take my sister for example. She always dreamed of buying a cool car, build a big house. And her appetite is always hard to please. I've never wanted a big car. Never have i wanted a big house. In fact, the only house i've ever dreamed of was a small shack with a garden. And that's it.

In my life, the only ambition i had was to be a cabin crew. ~.~  Of course that'd never come true. And then, when i was in secondary school, i stood out as a writer amongst friends. People requested me to write everyday and people were sharing my writing books like a best-seller. I was too naive to notice my talent. And my parents were too naive too i guess, to support me to write more.

But still i continue dreaming about story lines. And at the same time, my love for English grew deeper and deeper. So, i began channeling my art into English essays. Started from there, my teacher gave a lot of attentions to me.

That's how i started dreaming of becoming an English teacher.

But when i finished school, i don't know what kind of program should i choose. What university should i go. My parents didn't know how to help. And i didn't know even more.

I know i shouldn't blame my parents. But when i think back of those days. I can't help myself from blaming them for all the things happened to me. I continue living life in a wrong path and i don't know how to correct them. I'm walking in a big black tunnel and i have never saw a glimpse of light anywhere. It's all pitch dark.

Last year, i think i should start writing again. So i finished two manuscripts. I am still in a middle of writing one more. But my mother don't like what i'm doing. She don't like everything i do.

How can i do things she don't like? It's even hard to explain to her. That's why i lied to her. I know it's easier to say the truth. But the truth would be harder. It's too ugly and hideous. She can't take it.

Now, whenever i went home, i never felt like i went 'home'. It's just a place i visit. It's not where i belong. The room is too messed up. It's upside down. My bed had become a place to pile things up. And i don't know where to start. What to dream. What to do. Where should i place my laptop so i could think of something alone. So i could start writing a line or two. NO. There is absolutely no place for me. Their acts, their dialogues. I cannot hear them. They're so thorny that i feel like i want to pack up and run away right in that second!

But of course i waved goodbye anyway. I found comfort in wandering off. I took off and decided it's no longer a home for me.

I doubt my mother. What does she want from me? Doesn't she want to see me happy? What is she thinking? She don't like me writing. She wants me to be a teacher. But i've gone too far away from being a teacher. So what does she want me to do? She just don't get it. She never tried to understand. I cannot work. I can't serve people. I don't like it. And i'm just that kind of person who cannot do things i hate. Does she has any idea how many pressures she'd inject into my brain?

In conclusion. I'm not a happy person. I'm suicidal. Sick. No breathing creatures on this earth know what i had in my mind. What i think of when i let my thoughts take a drift. No one knows that i have a dream every night. The same dream. Over and over. Every. Single. Night. Like a psychopath.

If i lay in my bed, i cannot enjoy the softness of the pillow. I cannot . It's been so long since the last time i enjoy life. I've even forgotten how it feels like to see a clear sky. How it feels like to have a cool breeze sweeping up my cheeks. And how it feels like to live with a dream.

"All that I have is a river
The river is always my home
Lord, take me away
For I just cannot stay
Or I’ll sink in my skin and my bones

The water sustains me without even trying
The water can’t drown me, I’m done
With my dying ."

Surprise in Cameron Highland

On the way there. You can finally see the tea farm.

Went there last May, on the way back to KL. The road was very quiet. We were the only people going up. But it was quiet an adventure and full of great scenery. I took my time observing the surrounding. And i did noticed the little homes of the aborigines along the slopes. When we reached Lojing, we started seeing  views of covered farms. And we head on up and up. In the middle of the journey, rain started pouring heavily. And here in the highlands, it was really a downpour. My friend who were driving started getting so silent and get her head focused. The car was moved a little by the slippery road and her face turned pale as ghost.

We started reaching the real Cameron Highland area and there's another problem, the fuel tank was desperately asking for refuel. But gas station was nowhere to be seen. We still hiking up and low and the roads started getting smaller and the corners are extreme. The sky keeps sprinkling water to the ground. And i guess that place must always be wet cos some of the rooftops were covered with moss. Moss wouldn't exist without constant moisture, right?

So, finally, we reached Brinchang and we went to the gas station. The first time turning off the AC and opening up the door. We can finally feel the cold breeze of the highland.

Here are some photos took in MARDI Cameron Highland. A spectacular place for only RM3 entrance fee. Everything represents Cameron Highland like strawberries, roses, tea farm, vegetable farms, and many more, you can find it here. It's like a compact Cameron Highland.

Salad Bowl of Malaysia

Pretty. Still wondering why they grow them here cos it's highly poisonous.

Strawberries, but i'm not excited.  ^^

Healthy flowers

A big fat rosemary tree.

Look at how the fruits were hanging down. So excited over this!

I want a little garden like this.

Cameron Highland is surprisingly cold. Yes. But only at NIGHT. I always underestimate others' opinions about this place. And now that i've experienced it myself, i agreed. It's really cold. But not that cold. I didn't even wear extra layer. LOL. But it's just cool enough like the AC. In daytime, nope. It's not cold. When the sun is up, it's still hot. Only the breeze is cool.

I remembered having a bowl of seafood tom yum in Tanah Rata. I was excited over the unique plastic bag and plastic spoon. They were too cute.

And because of the climate, vegetables are at the best health. The cabbages and roses are grown at the edge of the road just like weeds. And everything about it is pretty. My 1 day stay there is not enough. And i'm looking forward for a revisit trip.

The One Who Inherited Me The Cook and Gardener Gene

My grandmother has passed away on last Sept 15. She suffered from stroke and she's been sick for more than 4 years. I really wish i don't have to talk about it here. But, before i proceed with next post, i think i need to talk about it somehow. It's one of few important dates for me to remember anyway.

Since the day she died, i never let myself to lost in deep thought of her. I have to many guilts, too many sins towards her. I remember when she loved me the most. I was the best granddaughter to her. And she said she'd give me lots of presents for taking care of her. But that was only during the first two years after she fell ill. But the next 2 years was bitter. Full of memories that shouldn't be recalled. But my memory always slides open the door without me trying to open it. And there i could see her in that room. Lying alone on her mattress. Quietly. Never complaining about the way she lives. About the mosquitoes or the ants. Or the pain she felt whenever we lifted her to the bathroom. Never. But sometimes she'd shout her lungs out. And we'd be angry at her for causing too much noises. But we understood well that she wanted attention. But again, we just couldn't control the anger. It was her, the noble. And it made me feel even more guilty.

But the last time i went home, she lied in the living room. There was only skin and bone on her.  Just to make an excuse, she caught a flu and stroke striked her for the third time. Started from there, she was completely drifted away in sleep. She didn't respond when you called her and i couldn't even recall the last time she saw me with her eyes open. I didn't even kissed her the last time i stepped out of home.

So, the next morning, with us all surrounding her, reading the Surah Yaasin, she passed away. Her face was very calm. And just like my late grandfather, at the last second of her breath, there was an expression on her face. An expression of DEATH.

I went there, to her grave. Watching her being buried 6 feet from the ground. How people laid her there alone. And left her there. It was very sad. I imagined her shouting her lungs out as always. And her hands waving at us. But under there...

Goodbye Mok...

May you be at peace. Your sufferings has ended. But even now, i always thought you're at home. Staying in your room. Looking at the walls with empty stares. Looking up to the kitchen to see who's there.  No one knows how sad the look was. How helpless, how tender! Oh dear love...

But then again i can't forget the coldness of your cheeks the last time i kissed them. How i missed you, how i love you so and in fact, you're the best grandmother i'd ever had! There'd be nothing in this world to make the second you. It's too late for words of love now. But... but i should stop now. Or i might die of sadness......................