Cooking. One of the great mysteries of life. At least for me. A realm full of enigmas and wonder. A real where many can enter, but only a few will persevere and emerge victorious. Where raw ingredients become culinary magic that can fill up the hearts of many and sooth the troubled soul. I am always captivated by this realm, and the ability of a select few to do seemingly impossible things with so little things.

To master it (or at least become proficient in it) became one of my lifelong dreams, and last month, I attempted to enter this realm. After a few false starts, and lots of trial and error, I scored a few achievements.

Of course, I won’t stop here. There are still too many things to try and taste and experience. The journey is far from over.

I will persevere.

P.S: Sorry for the dramatic tone of this post. I’m on a high after seeing how my Chicken Kapitan turned out. By the way, Ayam is chicken in Malay.

I woke up at 6 today.

It was cold, and slightly windy. The fan was not necessary; all I had to do was leave the window slightly open, and the cold wind would slowly come in and wrap the room in its coldness. It’s nice, studying at such an early hour and feeling the cold wind on your skin, and the goosebumps that appear as a result of it. The whole house is quiet except for the soft drone of the computer. I want to go swimming, but I know that such a foolish decision would cause me to have a cold later. No use being an idiot and getting myself sick before my mid-term paper tonight.

It has been crazy so far. Not so much in what I’ve done, but what I’m getting myself involved in. Besides having a hand in trying to keep a dying club from… well, dying, the world of politics has had a chance to enter my seemingly mundane life. It’s a dirty, dirty word. I hate it to the bone. All these years, I’ve tried my best to stay away from it, to back out of this issue whenever I felt that I was getting too deep. Well, I guess that all those years of being in the sidelines will get to you. A cruel form of karma, it seems. Name-calling, bickering, talking behind people’s backs… who knew that a dying club would have so many problems?

Silly me. The club is dying… because of problems!

My writing is worrying me. Or rather, my LACK of writing. I find it so much more harder to write these days. About anything. It’s not that my life nowadays is uneventful; the truth is far from that. But it’s just that… the words aren’t coming out. I comfort myself by saying that it’s writer’s block… but can I just call it writer’s block, and leave it at that? And what exactly is writer’s block? Does it have a definition? Maybe I’m worrying myself for nothing. But visiting Fazri’s blog makes those worries and those fears come back. He seems to make writing effortless, even funny. And me? I’m struggling just to write a 500-word article for the damn campus paper!

I need to start writing again. Even if it’s by force.

And I don’t think I’ll be running out of things to write about anytime soon, the way things are going. I can’t divulge much now, because most of it’s secret. Classified information, even. But I’ll write about it when the time comes. Write and write and write.

At the very least, it’s a way of making me write again.

A new trimester.
A new room.

So why do I still feel like everything’s still the same? Maybe it’s the room itself. It feels incomplete, bare. There are so many things that still need to be done here. The room is naturally dark, because of the position of the room itself: on the shaded part of the condominium block that I’m staying in. No matter how bright it is outside, the room still feels gloomy. But it’s something else as well. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

Maybe it’s the way I arrange my things. Too normal, too mundane. Clothes strewn everywhere, both clean and dirty ones. An unkempt bed. Messy wiring for my PC that I feebly try to hide with careful positioning of the computer table. The move to the new room is very much incomplete, in more ways than one. Try as I might, it seems that I have a natural inability to make my room a cozy place to be. Maybe a carpet would work. Or maybe one of those lamps that cast a soft, sensual orange glow to the room at night.

But I still feel like I’m nowhere near the crux of the matter. I wonder why. Of course, when the place is finally done, you will be among the first ones to know by the pictures I’ll be putting up. Maybe it’ll take a month or two. It takes a while for me to do these kinds of things, so bear with me.

Stay tuned. 

Wallace and Gromit really left me on a high yesterday. All of a sudden, I loved the Brits. I loved their food, I loved their lifestyle, I loved their incomprehensible and intimidating slang, I just bloody loved anything and everything about them. My brother and I had a field day quoting lines from the movie, anything we could think of.

Police Constable: Be careful everyone! There might be a big rabbit dropping soon!

or

Police Constable: In my opinion, this is arson.
Villagers: Arson?
Police Constable: Yep, people arsin’ (arson) around!

The pun will be lost on people who missed out on the movie. Things of that sort. Clever wordplay. Yes, I just love the Brits. The things they could do with clay. But this post isn’t about the movie. You could find reviews of the movie everywhere else. No, this is about what I observed coming back from watching the movie. It’s nothing dramatic or tragic, nothing of that sort.

Continued here.

Huh.

Well, this is interesting. I’m sure some of you might be wondering what the hell happened to my blog, after my last post in which I so passionately wrote about my new vigour for writing. Well, I was shocked to find out what happened too, and I wonder if my readers thought that is just another case biting off more than I can chew, which is so typical of me. Well, no, that’s not the case.

My webhost had a virus attack.

Well, a trojan attack, actually. It seems that “some asshole on my webhost installed a script on my webhost and it was almost instantly attacked by a trojan,” according to my webmaster. Or something like that. Ah, okay. But it left my site in a mess. I have to rebuild a lot of it. And since I’m not in the mood of spending 14 straight hours setting everything up and going through the Wordpress Wiki, reading everything carefully and modifying the PHP code slowly, it sort of explains why the work is so slow. As of today, it’s still not yet finished.

Honestly, that’s what happened. I’m not making it up.

But I can’t go on using that as an excuse to stop writing now, can I? No, of course not. Which is why I set up this Blogsome account. As a temporary lodging. Like the title of this post. This is where I’ll post my updates until the new site is up and running again. So I can’t slack off from writing.

See, I told you I’m not lazy.

Anyway, just in case anyone new happens to stop by here and wonder what the hell I’m talking about, visit this site about a fortnight from now: Click here.

Signing off for now. Ta.