Choking Me

I feel soooooo down. But i have to be strong. Not everyone is meant to stay in your life, no matter how much you want them to :'(

♥ I Hart U ♥

♥I love you Booooo..!♥
♥Wo ai ni Booooo..!♥
♥Saranghe Booooo..!♥

Do men came from Mars and we women came from Venus?

"Do men came from Mars and we women came from Venus?"

I miss you. Yes you! ♥

I miss you. Yes you!

Not much of reminiscing…but still...

Don't know why I feel like I wanna write about something today. In fact, I always feel like I always want to write. Yet, each time I took out my writing tools, (it depends-paper and pen, or computer, or phone) I don’t know what subject should I write about. It had always end up me writing nonsense. But it made sense to me right now. Why? It's because now I finally realized that I missed my diaries a lot. I mean so far…I miss the one diary of mine which is literally so colorful. It really was. And the colors applies to what's inside of it. The colorful diary of mine was the concrete symbol of my colorful and cheerful and playful and carefree life of mine of those times I held them each time I want to alphabetize what I saw, what I feel, what I care about etc etc.

Talk about diary. The one I mentioned above was the last diary of mine before I left Malaysia, the land of my sweet childhood. Everything written in the diary is of genuine thoughts of mine and most especially they'd came from the bottom of my heart, with strong literature impact.Oh yeah? It's because I wasn't using any language to write on but Malay. And I don't want to brag but I am very good in Bahasa Malaysia. (Yea, not Bahasa Melayu cause Malays generally are divided into two major groups, according to the places where it's being used, and general generally there are two: the Malaysian malay and the Indonesian malay. And guess what, under those places mentioned, the languange is again varied according to more specific towns again.) 

And so much for that. Let's get back. I am good in Bahasa Malaysia and I really was. (Dunno what happen to me now but somehow I lost track in two different countries and their customs and their languages. What a mess. See, now I'm messing myself out with this international language. Just how much should I have to improve this.) It was always being reflected in my grades in the subject back then. And mind you, the grades were not measured by a single test paper in an examination, but measured by usually, as far as I could remember, the minor tests, major exams-school level and nationwide exams like PTS and UPSR  (let's break it down, there are always objective exam that is called multiple choice paper composed of like 40-60 items if I'm not mistaken, and the most agonizing of all is the subjective exam that requires us to answer open-ended questions based on specified novels we took up and an essay or any article with specified number of word bracket, and yeah, talk about language, the oral exam with limited time to read, to comprehend and to answer the questions face to face to your teacher about certain selection…jeez…I took them all stupendously back then. I was really that good in Bahasa Malaysia. In fact, my grades was always A+ or A- in the card) of course assignments, projects, and etc etc.

And my point is- I wrote my diary in a language that let me pick out every exact word that I know so well and is precisely needed to describe every encounter of my life then in a paper black and white. But not literally black and white cause I use to use colors in every mood of my writings, blended with all creativity. And when I read that back, everything was so mesmerizing. Everything is twisted with every exact word of accuracy and color of the season that seems to lead me back to those encounters of which I've put them all in paper- diary to be saved for last, and they apparently seemed to re-visit-able each time  read them back. I can almost see it happened all again, rewinded in front of my eyes as I read everything again. That is how powerful the language for me as my instrument in writing my diary…back then. You really can spool back time, but not literally, as long as you saved them all, by writings or by pictures and of by any kind you name it. We're kinda applying the tools created by high technologies by now. Nevertheless, I daresay, nothing can replace the time-honored paper-and-penjournal or just simply diary.

But as for now, the dearly beloved diary has long gone. If only I could protect the diary from the stupid ants that built their stupid cave and made my beloved diary a dwelling out of it. It really meant a lot to me. It really is. The colors, the pictures, the scent, the modes, the songs, the mantra, the stickers, and most especially the writings and the thoughts, the priceless bittersweet memories of countless experience that I ever had. And for my benefit, I thought, I should threw it away, so that I can start off a whole new life in a whole new country with a whole new perspective. I want to leave everything behind. I want to get over my life in Kinabalu city. That is what I thought. I did threw it all, but not the reminiscence. A life that is full of drama, stupidity of a normal teenage, crazy thoughts, and accidents and challenges. Yet it was full of life, full of colors, full of creativity, full of fun and full of hope and I feel like my potential is on its height.  I did threw away the diary. And I regretted it. I missed every single page of the diary and even the smell of it. Suddenly I feel like crying now. Never thought how far life has brought me to and would bring me to.

You know, since then I started with a whole new diary. Lemme describe the first diary of mine in the Phillipines. It was a typical notebook (just like the previous one.), inside it was written using black or blue or red ink ONLY. No other colors, no stickers, no light, and no fun, back yet.  I almost feel like I'm hopeless. Just how miserable my life was…symbolized by those colors. All I could recall was the culture shock, the longingness, the breakdown, the disappointment, the misery, the anger and I could almost taste for the first time of my life then, the real poverty. How wretched and gloomy I was back then after the sudden transition. On the upside though, the black, blue and red are the basic colors or hues of real life. These colors taught me how to put my feet on the ground, how to stand on my own, how to face real challenges, how to be kind, how to be straight, how to be good, how to appreciate small things, how to get real, how  to live and most especially how to get near God, the Almighty Allah.

Step by step I learned. I learned the hard way. Alhamdullilah, thanks for the love of everyone, thanks for the love of Allah, and with every help I got, I slowly raise myself up, constantly improving myself. You see, if you happen to know me, I am not a perfect person, and certainly I'm way too far behind to be called a good one, but this is the BETTER version of ME. I miss my old life, but I wish I'd led it in a better way. And I miss my real name. Helenah Sahara. It was me. Now my name is cut short for Helen. But HelenKhan is better, and still Helenah Sahara is the best. And the real one.

Cover Craze

Hot and Cool.

I met this guy… I mean we don’t actually met. We got to knew a  bit of each other on this sophisticated social network-Facebook. Should I say thanks to Mark Zuckerberg? Or should I say I regret it instead? The answer is blurred in my mind. And I don’t even wanna know the answer. All I wish is that, just like the song, wake me up when it's all over.

I don’t wanna write every bit of everything about how we met in Facebook and in person. I just want to write this because I want to remember how I professionally met a guy for the first time. Ugh, at least that's how I felt today. Oh are you kidding me? Actually I'm a bit ridiculous and always stumble when meeting a guy. I could remember I met like two guys and it was an arranged meeting. I tried to act normal and end up staggering. Those days were gone with the wind I guess. I felt stupid remembering all those moments.

Today was not actually arranged for me to meet with somebody. I was told yesterday that I'd be sent to accompany the front-liner of my family to give respect to the invitation of one of our family friends. And off we went. I actually expected that I might met him there but made no extra effort look more pleasant whatsoever.

It bores me during the occasion. Coz one friend I knew was conducting the ceremony so I have no one to talk to. Suddenly I saw this familiar face coming inside. He has this cool smiling face. And right at the moment I saw him my heart went crazy inside. It feels like they're frantically drumming through my chest. Crazy! I tried not to look at his side. He took a seat at the side so I felt relieved that I wont have the pressure of meeting his gaze ( if he ever stares at me). And somehow I regret that I didn’t made any effort to made myself more attractive. Too late. The show was on now. I didn't glance at his way because circumstance may need me to open a conversation while the ceremony is still going on and it supposed to be conducted solemnly.

We sat silent and I pretend to pay my every attention to the ceremony. No one seemed to know that I actually my mind was so distressed and tensed. I act cool though. Damn. I just knew this will happen.

After the somber ceremony he stood and went inside the dining area of the house without glancing on our side. Okay. I'll catch with him later. My friend was also his friend. So it'll be easy to at least acknowledge him. No, don't get me wrong. I felt the need of me to get to talk to him so that at least he'll know that I appreciate his giving me of chocolates and every chat we did last time.

After some time chit-chatting with his folk, he went out towards us. Our mutual were actually sitting together with us. I started. Oh girl… I took it like I'm some kinda expert and whoa…I didn't stumble. He too. He's so mature and sensible. Like him =) (regardless the rumor I heard about him)

♦I called him by his first name to acknowledge him. With a smile of course.

♦He too. I think he smiles a lot. Or at least he put up a smiling face on his for this occasion. And he extended his hand to me. I think I heard him called me by my surname. We shook hands. (I felt I'm so very casual and very business-like here.)

♦We started a small conversation. Not much. Just so we could talk. Thanks to our mutual friend.

♦He seemed to know everyone in the occasion. Of course he should, after all they're his folks.

♦I introduce my aunt to him. He repeated my introduction, like to confirm that he heard it right.

♦My aunt thought he's a gentleman. He really seemed.

♦We ate our own food together. Once again thanks a million to our mutual friend.

♦And time went by fleetly. Aunt decided that we must go. So I said we'll go ahead to him. He said we'll just go together. Unfortunately I said my aunt is rushing for sembahyang. He finally said yes.

End of show. No it's not actually a show. It's me. Real. But it's end of my business-like meeting with a guy. And bravo to myself I did handsomely =)

Generally I like him. I don’t know about him, on the other hand. But not to the extent that I fall my heart on him, okay. The limit does exist.

Sweet Like Chocolate =)

These are sweets...

  This is sweet...

     This is sweeter...

        These are much sweeter...

           But this is much more sweeter x)

....See, sweet like chocolate, is it not?

P/s: (Thank you for the blessing Lord Allah, the Most Merciful..)