Ridiculous Advice

Probably February 2006

I had just completed the whole registration merry-go-round at INTEC. It was as inauspicious as shit, seeing as to how there were only three of us. Registering early. For no good reason. Or that much of an advantage. But there we were, the three of us, being given a lecture or briefing by a counselor--admittedly, a rather ancient one--about blending in and how "ini bukan sekolah lagi dah".

Then she made us step forward and sign a blank sheet of paper. Since I was standing in the middle I went second, sandwiched between both girls. She looked at the first's John Hancock, studied it for a bit, then squared her up. "Walaupun awak ada banyak isu, awak bijak gunakan keceriaan untuk sorokkannya." Or something like that. Then added a word or two about how it's a good thing and how it can be a bad thing.

Then she looked to her other side--bypassing me--and told the other girl, "Awak pula seroang yang gigih, dan berani. Tapi jangan terlalu tegas!" Again, I don't quite remember verbatim but it was something to that affect.

Then it was my turn. The other two got a few simple words of advice. Admittedly, some of it actually made sense, and was eerily accurate. But judging you from your signature? Really? Anyway. She looked at it, then looked at me and said "Saya dapat lihat awak akan jadi seorang yang sangat berjaya." This caught me by surprise. Nothing about my character. But now she can see the future though. The girl on my left suddenly blurted, "Tu la, saya pun rasa begitu!" I had no idea (still have no idea) if those sentiments were also based on a freaking signature. The counselor looked back at me and said, "Tapi tak mudah. Tiada apa dalam hidup mudah. Awak harus tekun... Harus kerja dengan kuat."

Back then it scared me. It was a good fear, yet something I equally dreaded. Right now I think back to those pointless words and can't help but think any idiot can say that. You'll make it big one day. Just work hard. Nothing's easy in life. Ha. Was she just talking out of her ass? Why were theirs a character study, but mine a look into my future? I honestly don't believe I'm special. 'Different' may be a better word. But special? And being told so by some dinosaur who can't even garner the respect of a classroom of 18 kids wasn't very convincing either. Perhaps it was the occasion. Perhaps it was just how I was feeling at the time. It's pointless, but for some reason, it became one of those pep talks you get etched in your head forever. Maybe it's true. Maybe one day I'll get the meaning of it. Maybe she was speaking old people speak, and I'm still unqualified/uninitiated to be able to understand.

If it is your intention to give advice--life-changing one--you don't have to be so vague or cryptic. The two best I've ever had were from the least expected sources. One was from National Service. As I said my good-byes before I left the place, my classroom instructor called me up and signed my workbook. She said, "Shazwan, sayangi diri sendiri sebelum awak sayangi yang lain. Selamat maju jaya". I respected this because 1) my name was spelt sH; 2) it was touching, and; 3) for some reason she knew I was heartbroken. Ha. But still. It made sense, and it was straight to the point. And it wasn't something far-fetched either.

The other one came from closer to home. "Here's the thing about me. I'm an asshole through and through. And I accept that. I don't feel in any way inadequate or that I have to change my ways. I am at peace with myself." This was in 2007. And he had only two As in his SPM--proof positive that you needn't degrees or PhDs or be someone 'superior' to give smartass advice.

It's pointless trying too hard, isn't it?

Religion, Happiness or Survival: Why I Chose To Go Katok

Two years ago I would have balked at you if you told me who I was today. But two years ago, things were very different: I wasn't living in Pittsburgh. I arrived here with the fresh hopes and optimism most of us had. In my mind I knew I'd stick to my beliefs with a passion; that I wouldn't easily be swayed by the weakness of others. I already had a pretty good track record in that for some reason (which to this day I myself can't understand), I've never puffed a cigarette despite most of my friends succumbing to the culture; I also don't quite fall for the supposed syok when you smoke after a meal. I was certain that the integrity in me would remain.

So it was that I survived my first semester in Carnegie Mellon sticking to the laws I was so often reminded of back in the Halal haven of Malaysia. It was quite an experience. I now know for sure that tuna tacos taste like shit; that I would rather fast than eat another vegetarian meal; that the vegan eatery here--Evgefstos--serves a million different kinds of shit that all taste the same; that too much greens will end up as seaweed-like complements to your feces; that fish isn't really fresh when you're so far away from a decent seashore; that meat, when you had the chance to eat it, was tasty, tasty murder. I did get chicken and beef and sometimes mutton once in a while. Salem's Halal Meats is just a few blocks away and I had the common kitchen in Boss House. Also, every Friday the Islamic Center would sell set meals after prayers. But I was paying USD 5,000 a year on my meal plan, which gave me 22 meals plus $70 every two weeks and didn't rollover. And Carnegie Mellon food is really as bad as people say. And not Halal. Slowly, the stoicism in me was hacked away.

But then many who had previously stuck to the strict Halal rule had somehow found out it was okay to cut themselves some slack. Some cite the fact that Jews and Christians are Abrahamic religions (agama samawi) or 'people of the book' since their respective holy books are recognized by Islam. Some say Kosher is Halal and that "diorang sebut nama tuhan sebelum sembelih" without quite knowing what they're saying. Some cite the darurat rule; that Halal meat isn't found where they live, or is too costly or leceh to obtain. Some couldn't care less. And almost all would say "Islam tak bebankan umat". My beef (pun intended) with all these arguments--or to put it in other terms, why I don't buy them--is that:

1. I fail to see how we could still consider Jews and Christians as people of the book. We Muslims believe their respective holy books have been altered, unlike ours. We also believe that God gave Jesus the Injil but the Christian bible(s) of today is (are) clearly written by man, with sections edited, unallowed or omitted by councils throughout the years. In fact, I'm under the impression that the Bible is more of Jesus' sunnah since it's a compilation of books about his life and his quotes, written by his disciples, unlike the Qur'an which we take as a narrative by God.
   
2. Search Kashrut and Kosher--the Jewish term for their law and their Halal equivalent--and compare with Halal. People easily assume that since Kashrut rules for slaughtering animals are stricter than Halal rules, anything Kosher is Halal. Islam requires that the name of God be spoken before the slaughter of every animal, whereas Kashrut laws require only an umbrella blessing for a whole session, not every single animal: there in itself is a huge hole blown in many an argument for Kosher-Halal similarities.
3. In terms of darurat, I could understand it if I was in a small town with absolutely no Halal meat. For one, I have Salem's, and any qualms I have is that I'm sick and tired of their only menu: briyani, curry and salad. But it was, I thought at first, better than nothing, and something to hold on to.

Salem's briyani was awesome the first time I ate it. I even thought "Hot damn! Four years of this? I can live with that". Even kids from Penn State drive three hours to get here just for nasi Salem. I, however, changed my mind after my third platter (in my second week here). But then my friends in other cities and towns with no source of Halal meat whatsoever cited the Qur'an and some sunnah they googled that's conveniently in their favor and voila! due to darurat, they're eating breakfast, lunch and dinner at Taco Bell, Q'doba and Wendy's. I have Salem's so is being in Pittsburgh considered darurat? Questionable. I mean, you can't expect people to live off rich curries every day, can you? And if I was indeed under darurat, wouldn't that be like pilih kasih in the sense that the families here have to eat Halal since they can but I'm allowed some lee-way since I'm living alone on campus? And it was odd that in a place where no Halal butcher was present, darurat could stand. But in Pittsburgh where it's quite rare, darurat doesn't stand. Does this also mean that if I open up a Halal hot dog stand in one of those darurat towns, they'd all have to stop going katok and eat my hot dog only? Let's say katok is okay; what if I had a beef jerky in my pocket in Pittsburgh and I flew back to Malaysia? If location can render something okay or not okay, where are the limits and how do we set them?

I hate doubt so I decided no.

Then came the fateful winter break of 2008 in which I was stood up in New York City by my one and only mother. Yes, kecewa lagi, Ma. Anyway, I stayed for two weeks with a friend whose family ran the Islamic school I attended as a child. And the first day already she ordered pizza and wings from Domino's. Needless to say, it was very awkward for me to question her dietary justifications since, after all, it was her mother who has been telling me what is (religiously) right and wrong for so many years. But she's always been one of those anak mithalis whom everyone adores so I thought "what the fuck, taram je la, I'm on holiday anyway". I also thought of that rule where you don't turn down what your host offers you or something to that effect. Either way, they looked delicious.....and tasted even better.

She later on told me she abides by the 'people of the book' thing. I took that at face value, and did not argue. Later on when I called my mother, she told me to just eat and be happy and stop complaining about susah nak makan. She even cited a sunnah--something I'd argue with some of the above points if it was a peer on the other end of the line. Tapi tak baik derhaka. Easy way out? Guess so.

When I returned to Pittsburgh, I arrived on campus at 1:00 AM when only one place was still open: Si Señor. Extremely hungry, I tried their fabled chicken wings and until this day I am a fan. From that very first half-dozen chicken wing goreng tepung, life here has been somewhat lebih ceria.

I had a roommate who was a dirty, rude, unhygienic, selfish prick who farted at night because he's vegetarian and eats rice and beans every day. He also told everyone I was a charity case because I was under scholarship, unlike him who's a rich brat whose father pays the full USD 50,000 every year. My floor was mainly people who enjoyed playing Dungeons & Dragons and took a passionate interest in all the anime bullshit, on top of anything remotely Japanese like ninjas and God knows whatever they call that martial art one of them practiced. Of the 24 who were on my floor, at least seven of them are the founding members of CMUs Atheists, Humanists and Agnostics. Every now and then in the lounge you'd hear them discuss or argue or dictate whether one is agnostic or an atheist or whether any of the current proof of Creation is actually legitimate. During our first night in that dorm, one girl came up to a few of us all sweaty, and dug a finger into her cleavage. She showed us the daki that had collected under her fingernail and commented on how she finds 'boob cheese' very interesting. Once, a girl told us of how she was very religious but just not on the sex part because she can't live without it. She went on to say that she's non-denominal--which was, in her description to me: "We believe in evolution and the Bible. So monkeys did evolve, and the first that was 100% human was Adam. It all makes sense that way. Oh, and we don't get baptized". Another person taught us of how evolution means we don't need to procreate anymore because "human vaginas are in front and not at the back, like on animals". So sex is just for pleasure and fun.

Some people I know elsewhere have said my failure of integrating with those closest to me is all down to my not opening up to them. It's easy for you idiots to say so when you're in a fucking kampung Melayu, rooming with people you've known and grown to love, sharing a car, splitting the cost, taking classes together, going places in your group. I don't have that advantage. And for the record, I hate the kampung Melayus in the huge universities. If there's one thing about Pittsburgh I'd never give up, that would be the small Malay society here: no drama, no ridiculous gossip. I loathed this city as a freshman. When things got even worse for me, lagi la benci. But I should think I've learnt what I like and don't like, and I now appreciate what I have here.

Also, Spring 2008 wasn't the best time in my life. January was a bitch. February worse. By March I could only sleep a few hours a night. April and May seemed to have a brighter outlook but then I just had to go to the stupid and pointless Midwest Games. Coupled with the inexplicably horrible grades of both semesters, I would rate the Happiness of my freshman year as 5 on a scale of 1-10. Every year has its ups and downs, but this was the first time I could say I was really, really agitated and out of my skin. Sometimes I'd check out ticket prices just to see if I could pack up my bags and go home ASAP.

My decision to ditch the strictness of old and actually eat--that has set the tone for my time here ever since. I'm not saying, "katoklah anda and you will smile". I apologize to my friends who think me a turncoat for being so headstrong on eating Halal back then. I can only assume that my defection to the Dark Side has left you somewhat disappointed in me. I am not writing this to make excuses for myself. I know it is wrong. And I know I'm probably weak for not sticking to my guns. I'm just saying that in my case, it made my time here a little more bearable.

Initially, whenever I eat anything katok I get scared for a bit. I'd feel a pang of guilt whenever I eat not-exactly-Halal meat (I can't say non-Halal now, can I? There still is a bit of denial in me). My fear sprang from the fact that it all tastes just the same--you won't die if it isn't slaughtered the correct way; saying God's name won't magically/miraculously alter the meat; blood drained or not, sama je. I will still stay away from alcohol, pork, benda dua alam or anything else that we wouldn't eat back in Malaysia. The fear and guilt in me is proof I know that although it's the same damn thing to our taste buds, someone up there knows it's not. It used to bother me so, this guilt. But now that I have accepted my situation, I'm just happy that at least I'm aware of what's right and what's wrong. Yes, I may be in the wrong and you can say that I can live without it and you can cite the others here who are just fine. But this is one area I'm willing to be selfish and sacrifice piety for happiness.

For those of you who stick to the right rules and all that, I only have one word for you: respect. I hope none of you are offended by my personal choices. And I hope you never have to see me eating non-Halal meat (fine) or its by-products if you deem that insensitive.

Live. And let live.

My Apologies To My City

I know for sure there was a time when I hated this place. The weather. The public transportation. The not-too-big, not-too-small-ness of it (planes from our airport fly to Chicago via Detroit, to Detroit via Chicago, once even to New York via Detroit). It's too hilly (pedestrian unfriendly), lacks parking (too car unfriendly), and has a subway system that doesn't quite serve the areas you would think it should.

It did have some awesome sights though. I remember my first view of Pittsburgh. Coming from the airport, as you exit Fort Pitt tunnel, the city's skyline takes up your whole view. Downtown; the shiny PPG Place; Heinz Field in all its glory, looking like an alien spaceship; PNC Park; Carnegie Science Center. The rivers add a nice touch to it, too. I rarely say this about anything, but the view was breathtaking, as I sat in the 28X, trudging slowly beside the Monongahela. Later on in my first week I was introduced to the quaint neighborhood of Squirrel Hill, with all its shops and al fresco cafés.

But I guess that was it. The cold soon came and I became a hermit staying indoors. I blame the buses (canceled trips), I blame the cold, I blame me being hung up, I blame the lack of shops nearby CMU, I blame the difficulties of fitting in, I blame CMU, I blame a lot more; I blame a lot.

But maybe it's the friends I made. Maybe it's the Steelers. Heck, maybe even the Pirates! I'm sure it wasn't Mt. Washington: I've yet to get a nice view up there. I doubt it's CMU; I'll only love this place the very day I have to leave for good. Maybe it's the unveiling of a million different things to eat by choosing to go katok? Maybe it's the fact that some people actually think this place is awesome (albeit compared to their 'rural' campus towns). Maybe it's the independence of living in my own place. The myriad of bridges, possibly?

Someone joked that a friend of his said it was "a bore" over here--"nothing much, really". And that hurt. It struck home. But I am not moved by the fact that someone could say something like that and know that I can't say much in defense. Or that someone thinks little of The 'Burgh. What surprises me is that I am affected by those mere words. And that can only mean that I actually love my city. I love Pittsburgh.

This is long due, Steel City: I am sorry.

Maybe I'm Still Not Over You

Of course, like any self-respecting person who's suffered a loss against his own will, I have tried so many things to move on. Move on. It sounds so simple. But it isn't, is it?

Just yesterday I thought not only am I head over heels for the new precious one, I thought I was a changed person: all the habits and taking for granted of yesteryear was now put to bed with the emergence of newer ones.

But suddenly, just as we're beginning to enjoy that lovely dream, we wake up to the realization that we are no better or worse off than when we went to sleep last night. Back to step one, some might say. Case in point being you do or say something that is wildly reminiscent of those habits you thought were long gone. Like the shocking reappearance of the coelacanth after 65 million years, you suddenly mouth an immensely personal and intimate inside joke from the past with the new loved one. You then think 'shit, here I am and she's no lesser than the previous one yet...'.

...yet?

...yet?

...yet?

Memories. Ahh, such lovely things they are: the passion and soul of life. Nothing's perfect. If you have a lovely vase with hairline fractures here and there, but you love it, you'd think it's the perfectest thing on the face of this Earth.....until it breaks and you get yourself another one (similar, due to your taste) and begin to think the broken one was indeed a little 'leaky', just so you could convince yourself that this new, perfecter one deserves your utmost love and care and concern and not the memory--however sweet--of the broken one. Whether you're good at convincing yourself or not is irrelevant.

My point here is that when you reminisce and compare two (or more) things of equal value to you, the one with more sentimental value would always win. It's the gone-but-not-forgottenness about it that would make it hard for a newer one to win you over.

Which is why this summer, although iffy about it at first, I came to enjoy the larger, wider, longer, heavier, thirstier, tinted MPV with huge-ass low profile tyres which made the ride a pain in the ass (literally and figuratively). I had to adapt to the gear stick being on the center console like in most cars. I had to get used to its more sluggish acceleration. I had to be more careful when steering as it was front wheel drive.

Just yesterday I realized that every time I park the mammoth Toyota Alphard in my one-car porch, it's always--and I mean always--perfectly straight. The wheels are parallel with the tiles on the floor. I do it without trying. It just happens. I can confidently make U-turns without slowing down and inching forward, scared I might hit a kerb or something. It's like the Alphard and I are one. Symbiosis or something like that. Also, I've hit a kerb with those precious 19-inch rims. And I have reversed into a broken divider that I wasn't able to see. Nice enough, I've left my mark on the MPV.

Just this evening, I discovered a 'coelacanth'. I hopped inside the Alphard and fired up the engine. Perfectly normal. Seatbelt, iPod plugged in, gate opened. Then I pulled at the wiper lever downwards. I would have done that a year ago on the old Mitsubishi Delica Space Gear as its gear lever is there on the steering column. No biggie. Re-place the wiper lever and just pull the gear stick into R as I do on almost every other day and get on with it. But as I ease away I realize how much I miss that irritating afterthought reverse sensor beep of yours. With that the flood gates open and those past memories all come back to me involuntarily, and suddenly my left thumb is twitching as if pressing the faulty 'Over Drive' switch on the edge of the Space Gear's gear lever, and I turn the wheel a little to the left to counter the misalignment, just like I did back then. *sebak* That's how much I miss you.

On paper, the Alphard would have the Space Gear for dinner. Maybe. But the Mitsubishi has the advantage of 12 years' worth of memories, of momentuous growing-up milestones, of carpooling commutes from school to home to tuition classes. I went camping and fishing in it. And to a lake-isle in Perak and as far south as Singapore and as far north as the Kelantan-Thailand border. I've been scolded till I cried in there. I've drank a bottle of Coke (500ml) in one gulp in there. My first accident. Even the first kiss was in there. As of right now, I'd go for the Space Gear without a shadow of a doubt. Am I still not over you? *shrugs* Maybe, maybe not.

Given time, more things will happen with the Alphard and the bond between man and machine would be much stronger. They won't be equal in any way, though. The Space Gear years were those I spent growing up, learning things and enjoying being a child. No way in hell would those years be repeated for anyone, ever. For different eras, tastes and preferences would change, and the Space Gear was spot on for that period.

For now I'll just have to repress those dastardly 'coelacanths' and stop comparing and simply enjoy the Alphard for the brilliant people carrier that it is.