On second thought, they're not playthings, aren't they?

I like kids a lot. The second thing to that that I like is rough-housing them. And for that reason, I like tougher kids better. With fragile-looking kids especially girly girls, I will just smile from afar and gently pinch their cheeks because they're too fragile for anything else.

And because of that, I hope to have two boys of my own. And maybe a girl. Even then I hope she will turn out smart and independent and not an emotional wreck.

So when Umair said they will be babysitting Huda this morning while Anah and Hilmi settle their visas, I didn't think too much about it. Huda has a small build and she very much doesn't enjoy being wrestled. I made her cry the last time I saw her.

But do you know what I ended up doing all morning? I played with her hair and always reached for the comb to keep her hair in place. I cleaned up after her (and those sloths for girls) and ate all the food she didn't finish (you know how babies like to eat one bite of everything. Huda thankfully left 1/5). I watched Upin Ipin with her (the other questioned why I was engrossed watching cartoons) and will patiently call her to sit farther away from the TV and reward her with a "good girl" when she does. Or I get up and gently carry her away myself, making sure she could still see the TV despite the movement. I asked questions about her upbringing, her diets..

The only time I think I bullied her was when I clamped her down between my legs so she wouldn't squirm so much when I tie her hair, and it was only for a second! I quickly released her and we put her for her afternoon nap.

So now I suppose I do want a girl. I'll grow her hair out and do all those cute braids and stuffs. And I'll be a mom who carries a comb in her pocket. Doing people's hair is oddly therapeutic.

Jinx

Yesterday was 17th December 2014, a Wednesday. We finished all our final written papers and awaiting are vivas. Umair invited me over for a movie night and that dusk, I picked my Neurology book and packed my Kipling sling bag for a sleepover.

And then I hesitated.

18th December 2013, a Wednesday. My housemates had just finished all their written papers and three of them (Kak Milah, Kak Teha and Kak Amal) went out that night for a sleepover at their friend's. That night, a fire started in Kak Amal's room. I ran off that night with said Kipling bag and my Neurology book.

The similarities were too much. Maybe I should stay at home and keep an eye on things, make sure the apartment won't catch fire this time.

But it was superstitious and I refused to believe I carry with me a jinx of any sort. If I stay at home because of this, it will belittle all faith I have in Allah as the One and Only God. But if I do go out..

The anxiety was too much. PTSD is not something to take lightly.

Stop being anxious and just control what you can control. So I sorted out my room and pulled out every single electrical plugs especially the heater. Before I exit my room, I took a good look at my belongings. My important documents were safe. If a fire really happened and all my books burned together, I won't sweat it and I will buy new books. I grabbed my Note that I usually leave behind when I go out and put it in my bag, because it contained all my books in PDF. I looked at my backpack stashed in the corner and decided I'm okay even if this one caught fire.

My favourite mugs (a mediaPERU*ATAN from Bapis and an heirloom from Kak Bid) were on my table and I thought if a fire started in my room, they'll be safer in the kitchen washed and dried. So I carried them out and exited my room. My housemate walked pass me and sent her regards to the girls at Umair's. I stopped in my track and in a totally out-of-character fashion, I told her grimly

"Watch over the house. If anything happens, please call me immediately."

Usually, I will vaguely tell my housemates where I'm going and most of the time it's a "bye I'm out" without elaboration. And I don't announce if I'm not coming back that night. The reason why people know where I was going yesterday was because Umair publicly invited me on FB post. So it was not a surprise when my housemate followed me to the kitchen and pestered just as grimly.

"Why did you say that? What's going on?"

"Nothing," I was washing the mugs. "Just call me."

"Tell me. Did something happened last night?"

She looked spooked. And then I realised she probably thought I was referring to some unexplained paranormal-ish bouts of activity we thought were going on.

So I smiled softly and told her what was bothering me. She looked relieved but not exactly, and told me everything will be fine.

That night was the one night I periodically checked my phone.

Haru is a dude

There's something I need to work on.

This evening I met Heba and talked to her. She seemed to have grown even taller than the last time we met and I felt guilty how I thought she was like a giraffe when she had to stoop so low to brush cheeks with me. Anyway that's not my point.

Heba was talking bullet fast in English and I barely answered back. And I'm not sure what the problem was.

(a) Language. I write better in English than I can in my own mother tongue and I even think in English. But in real life I speak fluently in Malay way better than I can in English.

(b) Interpersonal. Because I haven't seen her in a very long time and I don't really know her that well personally, I went into neutral mode. That translates to being more agreeable and less sharing my opinions, thus the setback.

(c) Gender issue. She chatted about her living arrangement and I was more listening than I was commenting. She was being a normal girl while I.. I think I behaved more like a dude then. Is this bad or is this not bad? I took a quiz recently and it said I think 100% like a guy.

But I'm a healthy straight female!

If it's (a), this means I need a real living person next to me and just speak my mind. Haru, materialise now kudasai!

If it's (b), then I need a better social protocol otherwise risk bore people out. Diplomats like Khadijah and Roy have an admirable personality, but I know I can never be that (cunningly) good with people. I'm a Choleric, not Sanguine by default. I'll learn though.. It'd be like Sasuke learning from Naruto how not to be an ice cube.

If it's (c), then I'm doomed.. Maybe I need to ask how the girls think of me in this context. Other than that, I don't know what to do. Truthfully in general, I find girls annoying. I kind of like being a girl who thinks like a guy.

But actually, Haru is a girl. And you know how stupid girls get when they go into shoujo mode.

It can't be helped that I like CNBLUE's music so much that I'm starting to pay attention to the members, and this is the trigger for this second half of this rant. I've been hooked on CNBLUE to the point reality seemed blurred. But I have repented and learnt my lesson from this episode. Let me share it here, not exactly in a particular order:

(1) When you feel, justify. Scrutinise until you can't break it down anymore, until there is no doubt that you are feeling what you are feeling. If you like something, ask yourself which part of it you like. Ask yourself why you like it. Don't settle for bullshit like "I don't know. Love is blind" because you will be blinded.

(2) Don't confuse an idea for the real deal. A clear example is how I love the idea of eating keropok right now, but to get up and fry some and the calories... so leceh. You get the idea, right?

(3) Don't start what you can't envision how it will end well. Don't entertain the idea of someone if you can't see the possibility of marrying him. Don't confess I love you but then do nothing proactive. It hurts them and it hurts you. If you have to let go, might as well don't even start.

But this point is clearly debatable.

A: How would you know the end of something you didn't even start? How guaranteed is that the protocols you came up with will be? This itself is an idea, not the real deal.
H: We will discuss this later.
A: You're a coward.
H: I like that song, I must be one.

(4) There is more to life than romantic love. This is probably the most important lesson I learned. People say youth is the time to experience love, but bear in mind love has many shades. Don't hung all your hope on romantic love. Experience life, it is short!

(5) I do, indeed, am attracted to another me. Which is a tiresome trap. I would date myself if I want to settle for a great spouse who will accept me as I am, but I want an extraordinary spouse who makes me want to be a better me.

(6) People's personal is not my business. Don't make it a habit.

Resuscitation is in the form of looping The Vamps and staying off CNBLUE for a while. Ah, I'm missing them already.

It was fun

Two days ago I went out half an hour before Maghrib to buy fresh chicken. I chose the bird and waited outside the shop as the guy cleaned up and cut the bird. The grocer opposite was open and people came and went (eh is this right?) and there were two elders sitting in front of the closed fish shop beside it.

I just stood there, a girl standing alone amidst puddles of suspicious origin (chicken water perhaps, urgh) with her hands in her grey sweater pocket. I still needed to buy pasta and vegetables from the same alley, but I only had LE100 with me and they probably had no change, so it was wiser to pay for the chicken first. It was awkward with a total of nearly seven Arab guys around me, but what else to do but wait for my chicken?

I noticed a girl, about five years old wearing pink-grey sweater suit, playing football by herself in the same alley. She kicked the ball slowly and talked loudly to herself. The ball got away, she walked down to the ball passing behind me, and while still talking to herself, she steadied the ball where it was and kicked it away.

She walked back to the ball and kicked it again in my direction. It stopped near me and my right foot automatically recognised a ball as what it is; something legit to be kicked. I myself was wearing jeans and my Arsenal jersey, black headscarf and maroon Converse. Football appropriate. I steadied the ball with my right foot and the girl stood where she was, waiting expectantly. My hands still in my pocket and I coolly kicked the ball towards her. Then I turned back to face the chicken shop, but I was still eying her from the corner of my eyes.

The ball reached her. She looked up at me briefly and kicked the ball. I took the cue and catched the pass. Steadied the ball and waited as the girl walked farther away. She turned around to face me and said something, more to herself than to me. I kicked the ball back to her and wondered what kind of picture this made; a self-minding little girl (I had a good mind to go full-blown Child Psychiatry on her) and an awkward foreigner in a narrow puddled alley, kicking a tattered ball back and forth.

The uncle who usually work the meat slicer smiled at me approvingly.

Oh what the hell, let's forget the chicken and just play ball in this alley. They'll call me when it's done.

We passed the ball back and forth and the girl kept going farther and farther away, forcing me to kick the ball harder to make the long pass. Once I missed and hit the chair the elder was sitting on with a bang. "Aaah ma3alish!" I automatically bowed and my hands shot out from my pockets in an apology gesture. The other elder laughed at me, but he simply pushed the ball with his leg back at me and the game continued. Another time I kicked the ball underneath one of the veggie crates, and the girl had to reach down to retrieve it.

Urgh, I'm out of practice. The last time we played futsal properly was Paediatric!

The meat-slicing uncle stood near me as I waited for the girl to pass me the ball. "Here we call it qurrah," he said. "What do you call it?"

"We call it bola, sir." I answered, playing the diplomatic Malaysian.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw that my chicken was done. I went back inside the store and paid for it. I stepped back out and customarily thanked the uncle.

"What's your name?" He asked kindly.

I frequented the shop a lot of times in my six years here (my previous apartment, the one that caught fire, was in fact above the grocer opposite this chicken shop), but only now did I make an impression enough to be asked by name from this local. I grinned proudly.

"My name is Hana," I pronounced it with the proper Tajwid instead of giving out the easier Nur, a name I find too Malay-generic and reserved for the random Arabs. "What's your name sir?"

"My name is Zenhoum," he smiled back.

"Nice to meet you Amm Zenhoum. See you around."

And I went to buy my pasta and vegetables, leaving the girl to play by herself.

Mar3ee Triad

Budak Arab suka buat lawak. Tahun lepas post paper 1 Surgery diorang nganjingkan qisim "crystal clear" sebab kata soalan crystal clear sekali soalan impossiburu.

Kali ni, I said what I said, happened what happened, but lawak is still lawak so I'm sharing the Mar3ee Triad and Pentad the clinical picture of the currently popular disease.

Ps: Dr. Saeed Mar3ee is the HOD who headed the que-making.

Exam haritu, baru tulis seperenggan dah sakit tangan. I had to drop my pen, shake my wrist and stretch the whole arm forward. Banyak kali bukan sekali tu je. Never occurred to me to do upper limb warming exercises before an exam. It must be the cumulative stress from writing too fast too many while studying or I hadn't dribble since a very long time...

If you look up the lyric translation of Can't Stop, you'll understand what I'm saying

Just now housemate came into my room, smiling cheerfully, clad in her going-out pieces. I looked at her expressionless, sorry I was sleepy.

"Hana Hana, I want to show you something. But don't get mad," she grinned with her phone in her hand.

"What." I said expressionless. Urgh today I was really lethargic. Even mom's post on my wall "CNBLUE has arrived home" made me super happy inside but on the outside all I could manage was a small smile.

She showed me her phone and I immediately spotted Dr. Hussein in the center of the picture, looking content, flanked by said housemate and two other friends.

I looked up to see housemate grinning proudly.

"We took this picture and I thought of you."

It was obvious the picture was freshly taken today. "What did you guys go to campus for?"

"We went to visit (insert friend's name)."

"Oh."

I think she could tell I was sleepy and my reaction was not the normal reaction an Hana will throw at the sight of Dr. Hussein. She left my room. And I returned to my Surgery book.

Normally I would throw a "whaaat no fair I want to meet him too!" and I do feel so. They met him outside school hour so they probably got to talk to him, which doubled my jealousy. But more importantly, I was jealous they went to visit our friend. I guess they went when I was asleep.

Despite the multitude of jumbled feelings, on the outside I was still today's scruffy (I would have stubbles if I could grow a beard), messy top-knotted haired girl in an oversized scrub, staring at my book like esophagus rang any bell.

It's either my jealousy has been tamed, or I felt unthreatened due to already have a personal picture with him (oh should I post it here?) or possibly the happy effect of mom's caption still lingered.

Right now, I'm thinking of Yonghwa-sama crooning "miss you~" in the opening line of Can't Stop.

---

She shared the picture in our usrah WhatsApp group and I got a closer look of Dr. Hussein.

"Ah. He smiled." I said. A rare one.

"Because as I was taking the picture, I said "1, 2, 3, smile."" She replied. She later told me she remembered me saying Dr. Hussein very rarely smile for the camera as she snapped that picture.

"I will crop that smiling face." I replied with a blow-kisses face.

6 years don't change a sloth

So Surgery paper 1 was today. I was hoping Dr. Hussein would come visit us in the hall to cheer us up, but he didn't. Maybe because he felt he lost the privilege since he is no longer the dean or perhaps he's busy. I think he's busy. We love him and will always be welcoming and he knows that.

Back to the exam. It had a reputation of being a killer and I really was scared of the paper. It didn't help that I like Surgery more than I like Batnah plus the so many good memories I have of our Surgery classes, I really want to do well. Except I was, am, and probably will always be lazy. Ah, excuses.

I played out a lot of scenarios for the outcome of the exam. Will I walk out in tears? Will I be reminded of my Biochem first year viva where I so much wanted to throw myself into the Nile? Will I be singing CNBLUE's I Don't Know Why, I'm Sorry or Can't Stop after the exam?

Engku sitting on my right asked me as we waited for the exam to start. "What to do if you can't answer a question?"

"I will answer it with something else I know. If the question asks anatomy of some artery I forgot, I will write in the answer sheet anatomy of another artery I remember better."

He nodded.

That was my last desperate card for the day's exam. My principle is to never leave the paper blank. I don't want to disappoint the doctor thinking that his student knows nothing, because I do know something. It just happens to not be the one you were asking, can't be helped.

To be fair, I never purposely change the question in a written exam. But I did misread rabies as tetanus during my third year finals and diligently wrote down every single prophylaxis shit on that matter. It was at the end of answering that que after cursing such a long answer for only 4 marks before I realised I read the question wrong. But there's no way I'm changing my answer at that point. Ain't got no time for that, ain't got no ink for that, ain't got no space for that.

---

I received the question paper and read all the questions. First time in my exam life I read with a serious face, sitting straight up, ready to receive my punishment. There were some question on topics I completely forgot to study for (ingrown toe nail among others) but I decided to not give up and to attempt all questions.

Gave a small smile and started answering.

---

In the middle of the exam I was jolted up because I thought Dr. Raafat came to visit the hall. I nearly shot up from my seat turning to see who was at the door. It turned out to be Dr. Yahya Safwat. He's a soft-spoken nice chap despite his sharp gaze who taught us Burn lecture (I wrote a post on it, I'll link later) and vivaed my end round Surgery exam.

I like him, I want to grow handsome like him.

---

After the exam, I saw Ume venting to Pait how the exam was hard and all so I came near her.

"Hi Ume."

She ignored me and went on venting. I stood there for a while but she still ignored me so I got bored. I headbutted her arm and then walked away.

Outside the exam hall, I greeted a few friends, patted Syak's big baby bump ("Pray for me Syak. You sit for the exam with two brains you are sure to graduate with a mumtaz." "But the baby's brain isn't helping!") and saw Ume again.

"Hi Ume."

She glanced at me unamused. I headbutted her chest and walked away.

"Woi!"

Times like this I don't mind being shorter. Hahah.

Can't stop me now~

People like to gossip, don't they. Plus I like to fan fire sometimes and be the badass I am. Consider this my press statement.

I'm only romantically interested in this 40-something guy with a scar on his left chin but it's impossible for us. So I was thinking perhaps I will die young before I learn what true romantic love is.

If the above paragraph makes no sense to you, take this one. I'm gay.

---

In another note, I immortalise people :)

Buaya over flowers

I need to take my mind off my frustration with my progress in studying Surgery. Earlier today I heard a cover version of The Beatles - Yesterday and the opening described my condition. "Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay."

So please allow me this post. Thanks.

---

Earlier my housemate received a bouquet of flowers from her adik usrah and I thought how girls have been marketed as love to receive flowers. Romantic equals flower.

I'm not into flowers but I can't really vouch for that, it's not like I have ever received flowers romantically. And I can't imagine receiving flowers in that manner since the type I like doesn't give out flowers freely, haha (JH!). But I appreciated people giving me flowers in the past. Pipah my then-roommate gave me a rose from her birthday bouquet and I diligently changed its water until it die.

I looked to my roommate's table and stared at the bouquet of carnation in a jar of water. It's blue and yellow and did light up the table. I turned to mine and there's Akagi the gorilla and Buaya the croc Nici on my board.

I came to the conclusion that I like animals and trees better than flowers. In fact I bought two books on tree and leaves. I would definitely appreciate potted plants more than bouquet of flowers. Cherry tomatoes! 

Speaking of potted plants, Zetsu the aloe vera Kak Milah left me as a heirloom is withering day by day. I last watered it a week ago and it appeared cachexic. Before that it was probably months ago... sorry Zetsu-kun. 

He's sitting in the balcony that's why! I need to put him on my table.

"When people disappear, there is no contact."

Take a shower.
Pack your bag in case you don't come back.
Go out.
Walk briskly, let's go somewhere with less people.
Walk and just feel the wind.
Zip the sweater up.
Walk.. until sweat trickles down.
Walk until you're done.

Walk back.
Should I buy bread?
No, we should stop eating.
Oh, it's Jonghyun's My Love.
I don't want to go back yet.
Let's stop for juice.
He's still singing.
Let's take the other route.
This song is sweet. It suits him but not CNBLUE.
The band hardly play that song, I think.

Song ends.
Arrives home.

Should I go up?
Where else would you go?
Somewhere with stars.
It's too windy this time of the year and we left the inhaler.
Okay.
Let's study.

Guitar Freak

CNBLUE has 4 members as all know. All four have their own Twitter account (all except Yonghwa-sama are on Instag) and their handle are as follow:

@JYHeffect
@MentalShin (@leejungshin91 on Instag)
@MR_KANGGUN
@cnbluegt

The first three handles at first glance reflect the owner individually except for the last one. It's Jonghyun's. The first time I saw it, it kept me puzzled what gt stands for. Why not jh? The closest gt I could think of was Son Goten (haha) but Minhyuk-kun is the otaku among them, not Jonghyun.

Until I came across FT Island's guitarist's account (Jonghoon) by accident. His Twitter handle was @FtGtJH. Ft was of course a nod to his band. JH was his initials and there's that Gt again.

And it clicked. Gt stood for guitar(ist).

Haru: That's like the default handle for the band's guitarist. So what? If CNBLUE changes guitarist, is Jonghyun going to give up the handle?

Me: No.. It means he's CNBLUE's guitarist for good.

You can see Yonghwa-sama's world domination aim from his handle (the effect part dude. With his talent and mindset, he really is going to go far.). You can see Jungshin's playfulness from his. You can see Minhyuk's nice-guy personality from his.

But Jonghyun's.. It was like a pledge to be CNBLUE's guitarist for the rest of his life. It's like Lee Jonghyun equals CNBLUE's guitarist, that being the band's guitarist was the definition of his existence (lol this is too much, probably just his social media account).

That guitar freak. And such admirable loyalty. He really love the guys like his family in his subtle macho way.

---

Psychiatry paper is over. I should be analysing Surgery instead of this, or the political play in Kasr el Ainy.

One term is three years

I didn't write that we got a new dean last week. His name is Dr. Fathy Khodair, 25th November 2014, the day after our Batnah Paper 3 (MCQ). No wonder I didn't see Dr. Hussein doing his round in the exam hall.. 

I forgot when Dr. Hussein took office but it was three years ago. Us Gen08 have lived through three deans; the first was a shadow of a name who we never met, second Dr. Hussein who opened his dean door for us faculty family and the third is Dr. Fathy.

Good luck sir. And well done Dr. Hussein, we are eternally grateful of you.

We also are getting a new JPA officer since Ustaz Zikril is leaving Egypt for good this 16th. He reported for duty on 19th December 2011. Nearly a whole three years. He is the second JPA officer ever sent to Egypt, the first officer was Encik Hazam. He visited us in INTEC and flew to Egypt before any of us and handled the students during the 2011 Mubarak-ousting revolution. Very high respect for this person. And Ustaz Zikril was second, he really took care of us. Even his sons are well behaved and brought up with proper Islamic core values.

All the best ustaz. Thank you for everything, for coming to our burnt apartment that same night with your whole family, for inviting us for Raya at your place and for everything. I'm sorry for bullying Wafi your youngest. Good luck, get a raise and may Allah place you at the best placement possible.

---

They didn't wait for our graduation this February. Ustaz Zikril said he will try if he could but in case he couldn't, he wished us congratulations in advance and will pray for us from afar. Haha. There was a Sesi Ustaz Zikril Raikan Kami Makan Nasi Lemak earlier this morning that I took notes on his speech. I'll post about it later.

Dr. Hussein will definitely come. We love him down to our bone medulla, down to last nucleus, he has to come.

Here I present you his last emails to the official school mailing. No more looking forward to his emails again...

Dr. Hussein's last official email. 

Argh damn now I remember he was supposed to write us a speech for the yearbook! I'll reask him again post exam.

The email announcing the new dean.

Dr. Hussein's wishing us for the exam. It was one of the best booster speech I ever received. "We wait for you as doctors in the near future" ahhh the feels! 

Man my speech has been internet-slanged. Damn Americans.

There's also his Eid wishes that I held dear. I'll post it up later as well. Haru don't forget.

LubDub made a meme. Man I'm missing his no-smile-for-the-camera face.

Don't push it

Calm down. I really shouldn't blog emotional. It gets nothing done.

Breathe deeply. Okay. It's okay. As long as everyone is happy and very happy. Pining is moot. Everything is in your head and don't confuse it with reality. No no, do not quote Dumbledore. You wish for it because you know it has near to nil chance of becoming reality. You know it, so breathe deeply and say

As long as he's really happy.

Close your eyes and breathe. Okay. Take as many moments you need to accept that.

You know, you shouldn't like too much if you can't handle jealousy too well.

Duck

Housemate asked me to buy Helwani Bros hotdog from the grocer ("What do I say?" "Hotdog.") but he ran out. So I stepped into the next-door frozen food shop. The following conversation was in Arabic.

Me: Assalamualaikum. Do you have hotdog?
Miss storekeeper: Hotdog? What is that?

Frankfurter? Cmon don't get into nominal aphasia now.

Me: It's like kuftah but it's not kuftah.
Miss: Suguk?
Me: (grinned) It's like suguk but it's not suguk.
Miss: You mean susij?
Me: (grinned wider) Yeah susij! That's it.
Miss: Yes we have...

It's been six years. Still a duck in this world of sheep.