08 April 2011

Setiap yang hidup pasti akan pergi.... Al-Fatihah kepada Cikgu Zainal @ Pak Andak

Rabu 6 April 2011.
Cuaca: Hujan lebat


Zainal bin Atan. Tarikh lahir 4 September 1959.
Dia Pak Andak aku.
Mak aku ckp, dye kawan same maktab dgn cikgu Othman, GPK skola Dato'.


Pak Andak aku pergi meninggalkan kami.

Pak Andak memang da sakit... Mak ckp hati dia rosak. Maybe ni akibat dari merokok kot? Pak Andak memang kuat isap rokok.

dye pernah ajo aku ngan Aini (kawan form 6) kat tusyen Bahasa Melayu mase kitorang darjah 5 dulu. sekrang dia da x ada.... mase cepat sgt berlalu. Pak Andak mula masuk hospital awal taun ni. lepas tu dia asyik kuar masuk hospital je.... sampai awal bulan April aritu, dye pergi hospital pantai kat Melaka sbb nk jumpe pakar.

Ari Rabu aritu, dye bertegas nk blk. dye ckp nk jumpe mak dye (atuk aku). n dye sampai sini (uma atuk) dlm kol 1.30 ptg. dye sempat lg bergurau2 dgn sume org. lepas tu dye mntak tolong ngan ayah aku, dye ckp nk mkn ais krim kacang. ayah aku belikan. dye mkn sampai abis. lepas tu dye asyik tanye jam da pukul berapa.

dlm kul 4, dye rase penat n sakit lain macam. dye suruh mak aku panggil ambulans. dye pun bangun nk tukar baju utk pergi hospital.

tp dye x sempat pergi. tiba2 dye batuk darah, tercungap2 n berhenti bernafas.

atuk rasa2 dada Pak Andak, lepas tu atuk terus menangis.

aku x pnh nampak atuk aku nangis. atuk asyik ckp "kenape ko pergi dulu?"

mak aku pun nangis.

plg aku x sampai hati tgk, Aiman dgn Mak Andak.

Aiman tenung je muka ayah dye, macam x percaya. tp dye baru 8 tahun, mgkin x bape phm lg.

Mak Andak meraung. Mak Andak yg sentiasa nampak bergaya, hari tu meraung terus.

ayah aku dalam berhujan pergi tunggu dpn lorong uma aku, takut ambulan x jumpe jln.

JPA dtg tak lame pastu, tp da lambat...


20 minit pastu baru ambulans sampai.

Pak Andak da takde...

mlm tu, abg aku, lecturer uitm cancel kelas dye n blk muar. Akak aku, jururawat HBP yg start keje kol 9 mlm pun blk Muar. Epi x dpt blk, sbb dye jauh sgt (terengganu). Anip x pegi keje.

Mak Lang (guru) n Pak Lang (Pengetua Sekolah) pun blk Muar, dgn Suhaila n Jabrul. Adibah x dpt blk.

Atikah n Dayah (anak2 Pak Andak) terus blk dr KL, n sampai muo dlm kol 1 pg. Atikah rancang nk blk Jumaat ni, nk tgk ayah dye tp....

Semua org x percaya Pak Andak da xde.

Esoknye, hari pengkebumian, ada ramai cikgu2 sekolah Ismail 2, kwn2 Pak Andak. semua tangisi pemergian Pak Andak. Pak Andak memang baik, suke bergurau n buat sume org suke kat dye.

Aku x sampai ati tgk atuk. Atuk macam da x boleh nk berjalan lag. atuk aku kuat, umur da lebih 70 tahun tp still boleh mencangkul n berkebun. tp ari tu, atuk nampak tua sgt...

Mak Andak kene ade org papah.

Ramai orang dtg, dr orang kampung, kwn2, anak murid, kwn sekerja, sedara-mara termasuklah bekas anak murid Pak Andak yg da berjaya. Jenazah Pak Andak disembahyangkan dua kali keran tempat yg agak sempit.

Pak Andak selamat dikebumikan hari Khamis, Jam 11.30 pg di Tanah Pekuburan Parit Beting.

Pak Andak @ Cikgu Zainal, seorang bapa, seorang guru, seorang adik, seorang abang, seorang anak, seorang suami yg berjaya, taat dan patuh.

Kat Terengganu... aku pun ada ms ni... Pak Andak, Aiman n Mak Andak

Gambar ni aku yg amik, mse rombongan ke Terengganu

Pun aku yg amik.... Pak Andak n Mak Andak

Gambar yg penah buat aku ketawa

Pak Andak n Mak Andak

Cikgu Zainal

Seorang guru BM

Memang the best..

Pak Andak, Aiman n Mak Andak.


Kami semua sayangkan Pak Andak, tp Allah lebih sayangkan Pak Andak.

Semua orang, tlg halalkan mkn minum, harta benda kalau dye x sengaja terambil @ termakan.... maafkan segala salah n silap dye...

Mari sama2 berdoa moga2 rohnya bersama dgn org2 yg soleh.

Al-Fatihah

05 April 2011

FORM 6????

 Wahai cikgu2 yg mengajar form 6 @ Dato, seteruk mane pun keputusan kitorang, bukan slh cikgu. cikgu da suapkan pd kitorang, kitorang je yg MALAS nk telan. Sbb da ramai org yg berjaya asal dr F6 dato...

tp......

Kadang2 aku rase menyesal ngan pilihan aku.

yelah, aku da tau awal2 lg Dato ni x tawarkan PS ngan Sastera, tp ak nk gak lekat kat sini... Ok, fine, taun ni da ade PS, tp kene blajo sminggu skali. Tu yg aku x nk. Cikgu Sulaiman (cikgu Sastera) plk baru taun ni masuk. mknenye ade kemungkinan la bdk2 taun dpn ley amik subjek sastera. Pdn muke aku.

So... Aku punye subjek sekaran; Pengajiam Am (wajib) Bahasa Melayu, Ekonomi ngan Sejarah. PA tu no komen la, sebab wajib. nk x nk kene sumbat gak la masuk otak. Tp sape je yg nk bace bab2 politik ni? Org yg bcite2 nk jd ahli politik bleh la! Tp bkn psl tu je, Pengajian Am ni de gak blajo psl krgn, graf... n karangannye jauh lg senang dr krgn BM, asalkan tau teknik.

Pd korang yg pk BM ni senang... KORANG SILAP!!!!
Da la kene cr kesalahan tatabahasa, kene bgtau sbb kesalahan DGN terperinci lg. Karangan nye plk, kene 600 > 700 psth perkataan. PENDAHULUAN pun kene ade teknik!!! kalo x, tolak markah! lg, alih bahasa. Dri prosa tradisional ke bhse moden. dr syair ke bahse biase. susah wehhh!!!!!

Sejarah no komen la. Sbb jawapan sume da kene suap, tinggal bace or x bace je. Memandangkan aku ni rajin pemalas tahap singa jantan (rambut pun mls nk sikat) mmg pdn muke aku la markah Sejrah aku teruk. Mintak maaf cikgu Fareha... Bukan salah cikgu.....

Ekonomi.... WARGHHHH!!!!! ok, Add Math lg susah dr Ekonomi... tp Add Math x payah tulis essay!!! Ekonomi ni, da la kene kira2, buat graf, jadual, soklan objektif, pastu tulis essay lg!! kira2 dye law formula same xpe gak!! berdozen2 formule, sampai kepale aku da bling2 da.... Adoiiiiiii

So, sebenarnye aku nk amik Sastera n PS, tp sape kate senang???? Sastera tu, bape byk bende kene bace??? ak start gune bhse baku je nanti. PS plk, kerje kursus dye bertimbun giler!!! dgn tgn aku yg x bape nk lembut ni... jgn arapla ley siap sume keje tu dalam mase sminggu!!! mau2 setaun!!! Cume aku nk amik subjek tu sbb aku suke je. So what?? aku mmg Art Geek. Time kaseh.

MUET.... kwn2 aku amik Muet arini ngan esok. Aku da amik taun lps. Mmg x dpt la aku nk amik TESL or LAW rasenye... tp ak rase jeles tgk diorg. Diorg blajo Muet bersungguh2 (siap amik tusyen!!) mesti diorg dpt power2 nty. Band4, knape ko x pilih aku?? woooooo

Ni la name nye dah terhantuk baru tergadah. big deal, kalo aku wat btl2, mesti boleh kan? kan?

Boleh ke?? 

gambo random form 6 Dato... agak2 taun bape ni?

02 April 2011

OFF TOPIC: Facebook sucks! (Short story for SW)

Dr. Jones stepped out of his truck and paced down the pavement leading to the Borkins' household. Out of his jacket he pulled out a patient identification card.

Daniel Borkin, it read in big bold letters.

Dr. Jones reached the front door and casually knocked three times. Light steps sounded from inside of the house. The door swung open and a middle aged woman invited him hurriedly inside.

"Doctor, I'm so glad you could make it," Mrs. Borkin praised, "I know you have an extremely busy schedule--"

"I jumped on this case," The doctor explained, "I'm in charge of the 'unusual' and 'bizarre' cases such as your son's and honestly this department hasn't been 'booming' with business lately. I'm glad you called."

"Well call it unusual and bizarre, but this is extremely serious."

"I do not doubt it's severity and extremity ma'am. In fact, this sounds as bad as a crack addict with an eating disorder. Now without any further stalling, will you please direct me to the boy?"

"Yes Doctor, please follow me."

Mrs. Borkin led the Doctor up a flight of stairs and to the first door in the hallway. She knocked gently and opened the door revealing the backside of a blonde teenager sitting in front of a computer screen. Beside him, stood his father, who did not look pleased at the sight of an unexpected visitor.

"Who the hell is this?"

"Bob," said Mrs. Borkin, "this is Doctor Jones. He is here to help our son in his time of, for lack of a better word, need."

"Susan, I told you we can handle this with some quality parenting and a little bit of physical force."

"Bob listen to me, Daniel is in a very delicate state of mind right now. We don't want to do any permanent psychological damage. Much less put our own lives at risk in the process."

"Stop sensationalizing this Susan! You sensationalize every single damn thing! Especially in bed."

Dr. Jones coughed reminding the room of his presence.

Susan blushed, "I'm sorry Doctor Jones, my husband Bob is acting extremely anal."

Dr. Jones frowned, "Anal?"

“As in he’s being an ass.”

Bob mumbled to himself silently in the corner.

“Mr. Borkin, sir,” Dr. Jones alerted, “I would really appreciate some cooperation.”

Bob scoffed,”Don’t be formal with me asshole, call me Bob.”

Suddenly Daniel let out a loud but brief wail. Susan brushed past her husband to attend to her son.

“Daniel honey,” she said, “is everything alright? This nice man is here to see you, he would like to be your friend.”

Her son removed his eyes from the computer screen in front of him and stared at his mother. He then yelled, “FRIEND REQUEST DENIED.”

Susan broke into tears and faced the observing doctor, “He’s been like this for days now. Just yelling out one word responses.”

“All Facebook terms, I assume?”

Before another word could be said, Daniel stood up abruptly and turned to face the mysterious Doctor.

“PHIL STEPHENSON AND GWEN RANDYSON ENDED THEIR RELATIONSHIP.” He yelled with white zombie eyes, “DANIEL LIKES THIS.”

“Dear Lord!” Dr. Jones exclaimed, “What in God’s name happened to his eyes?”

Bob crossed his arms and replied, “Gee you don’t know? And you call yourself a doctor? What’s your PHD, 'psycho'-ology?”

Dr. Jones raised an eyebrow, “First of all, that joke was worse than Leno and what do you do for a living anyway?”

“That’s none of your business, ‘Doctor’.”

“He’s in accounting,” Susan interrupted, "good with numbers and digits."33

"I'm surprised I'm not cheating on you with some young blonde broad."

Susan's jaw dropped, "You better not! Take that back right this instant!"

“INSTANT,” Daniel yelled, "LIVE FEED."

Dr. Jones approached the white eyed teenager and took a mini flashlight from his pocket. “I need you to follow the light with your eyes, son.”

“NEW NOTIFICATION. FLASH NOTIFICATION. NEW MESSAGE.”

Daniel’s eyes were motionless as the doctor moved it from left to right.

“WHOA." Daniel remarked, "THIS IS A MINDJOLT.”

“Bullshit,” Bob mumbled.

“BULLSHIT." Daniel repeated mindlessly, "FARMVILLE?”

Dr. Jones shook his head and sat Daniel back down into the chair facing the screen. The doctor seized control of the computer mouse.

“Daniel,” Dr. Jones said, “I am just going to open a new tab now okay? I’m not closing Facebook, it will still be open.”

“What are you planning to do Doctor?” Susan asked curiously.

The Doctor placed his fingers on the keyboard, “I am going to try and activate the hormonal parts of the brain. You may want to look away Mrs. Borkin. This is going to get rough.”

Mrs. Borkin covered her eyes, while Bob watched sceptically.

“Daniel,” the Doctor said once again, “how old are you son?”

“BIRTHDAY: SEPTEMBER 17, 1995.”

“Okay, have you ever heard of ‘Youtube’? Except in a variant form? For example, those websites that teens and perverted adults frequently visit?”

“YOUPORN.”

“Ahem,” Dr. Jones coughed, “that is one of them.”

“REDTUBE.”

“Yes, that too.”

“TITTER.”

“I’ve never heard of that one... possibly. Now I’m just going to show you some videos here, we’ll see if anything awakens inside you.”

“DANIEL LIKES THIS.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Daniel pointed at the minimized Facebook tab, “FRIEND REQUEST ACCEPTED.”

“I’m flattered, Daniel.”

Daniel tapped the screen, “UPDATE STATUS.”

“No Daniel, forget about your status for now, okay?”

“STATUS UPDATE. STATUS UPDATE. NOW.”

Dr. Jones grasped Daniel’s wrist, gripping it tightly.

Daniel's expression turned into one of repulsion, “RELATIONSHIP REQUEST DENIED.”

Suddenly Daniel raised a fist with his other arm and punched Dr. Jones in the right cheekbone. Disoriented, Jones fell backwards into Bob knocking him down.

“All right, that’s it,” Bob said, as he stood up pushing the doctor away and taking the computer mouse out of his son’s reach. “It’s time to put an end to this crap.”

“What’s going on?” Susan asked still covering her eyes, “Can I uncover my eyes now?”

Dr. Jones scratched his head and stood up, focusing his attention onto the computer monitor. Daniel was struggling to gain control, but Bob was pushing him away with one hand while clicking with the other.

“Bob, what are you doing?” Dr. Jones asked cautiously, “I’ll advise you to be careful, Facebook is much more powerful than you think. Technology has advanced pretty far the past couple years.”

“I’m deleting his account,” Bob replied with conviction.

“Not the best idea, Bob,” the Doctor warned.

“It’s the best idea I’ve had all week.”

“DISLIKE. DISLIKE. DISLIKE.” Daniel yelled while curling himself up into a fetal position. “CANCEL EVENT.”

“Bob you don’t understand,” the Doctor continued, “If you click that button, there’s no turning back. There have been cases and studies done by professionals...”

“Yes Bob,” Susan joined in, “listen to him, he’s a professional.”

“Shut your damn mouth Susan,” Bob retorted, “you’ll love me for this." He clicked the mouse and smiled with a feeling of temporary gratification.

“Shit,” Dr. Jones cursed.

“What?” Bob asked.

“What I was trying to warn you about is that according to studies, in this day and age, people who don’t use Facebook reportedly don’t exist. Therefore by deleting your son’s account, you have just deleted your son from existence.”

“Oh God!” Susan screamed pointing at the spot on the floor that her son had just been, “He’s gone!"

Bob’s eyes widened, "Fruit of my loins," he said aimlessly, "So ripe, yet so unfulfilled."

Dr. Jones put his hand on the shoulder of a crying Susan. “It’s okay, it’ll be fine. There will always be more opportunities to procreate with your husband. Are you over fifty?”

“I don’t want to procreate,” Susan admitted, “Nothing can replace my dear Danny. I want a divorce right this instant.”

Dr. Jones nodded comprehendingly, “Do you have your cell phone on you right now?”

“Yes,” Susan replied, “why do you ask?”

Dr. Jones looked at Bob and whispered in Susan’s ear, “Just change your relationship status to 'Divorced' and the rest will take care of itself.”


Fin

OFF TOPIC: Silence (Short story for SW contest)





Sometimes I just want to burst out in tears, but they never seem to flow. I sit on the edge of my bed, at times for hours on end, but it just won't happen. I must've accidentally insulted the Sandman as he hasn't been visiting me very often, lately. The nights are long without him. Lonely too, despite the company of my tearless cheeks.

I bought a gun a few weeks ago. For protection. The clerk at the gun shop told me to clean it often and check all the parts, to make sure it'll work when I need it to. He gave me a little guide along with it, with all the details on the cleaning and assembly.

The worst part of the night is when the same old memories pay me a visit, arriving in my head on a train of thought that I can't trace to its point of departure. They won't let me go, and really, I don't want them to. They're the only thing that links me to my past, proof that I existed. Even if my existence wasn't one of many virtues.

I'm in some cheap motel room, the name of the motel already forgotten. It's nighttime, loneliness kicks in yet again. Every night the same battle against it; it's become routine. But tonight I'm not entirely alone: a moth circles the broken lamp, fighting its own battle to catch the flickering light. Its shadow dances around on the faded green wall. I chuckle when I realize our battles have an ironic resemblance. They're both futile.

On the rare occasion that I actually do fall asleep, I see the old acquaintances in my dreams; my very vivid dreams. The pleading screams are clear as day, until they're muffled by reality flowing back into my head. And in that split second, that fraction of time between sleep and wake, I'm free. Free from the haunting nightmares and having to deal with painful reality. It's the freedom of that mindless twilight zone I long for so badly.

The gun is in my hand, I want to clean it. The cleaning-guide is laying next to me on the bed. Closed. I guess I don't want to clean it.
As I gaze at the fine texture of the metal, I suddenly wonder how it would taste. Though I've never handled one before, the gun actually feels as if it was created for the sole purpose of being held by my fingers. It feels oddly natural.


I remember when I first signed up. I was young, fresh out of college with a promising degree and I was looking for a job that paid well.
“Don't worry, they're all volunteers!” they'd say. And I believed them. Silly me. I'm not trying to justify it, but I really did believe that they volunteered and I was doing the right thing. 7

The manual to my right fades away from my interest. On my other side rests the clip I put there earlier. I pick it up and inspect it; it's beautiful. For the first time in my life, I load a gun. As I expected, it's not that hard... I've seen it on TV plenty of times.

Oh, who am I kidding? I didn't think that. I couldn't have, not the way I was raised. I was too down-to-earth for that. I knew the truth, I knew how cold and cruel this world could be. I wasn't naive... I guess I just didn't care back then.
If only I knew then what I know now, if only I knew how those poor souls would haunt me for the rest of my pitiful excuse for a life.

I cock the gun. The sound exhilarates me, gives me goosebumps.

The subjects-... No, not the subjects! The people, the humans, the persons! They were all people with families, with loved ones, with a history and a future; a future I robbed from them. The lives I've destroyed will never release me of their grip, I'm pretty sure of that. But to be honest, I don't feel I deserve anything else. Hell, the fact that even now I still refer to them as “subjects” should say enough about me.
Damn... I've turned cold. So cold even my tears seem to have frozen solid.

I pray. I don't believe in God, but I figure fuck it, why not. Who knows, right?

When I close my eyes, I hear the screams of the dying men and women. Screams from the bottom of their souls, screams filled with agony, just begging for relief.
The honesty in their pain is unparalleled. True, honest-to-God fear. It's beautiful in a sick and twisted way. No charade, no acting, just honest and real fear. So deep and real it leaves a mark on whoever they shared it with, as if to say they will never leave you. Never forgive you for causing it.


Cold sweat runs down my back as my lips kiss the barrel. I open my mouth and taste the metal. I shiver.

I've begged them to stop screaming but they just won't, they simply can't. Except for in that brief and rare moment between sleep and wake, that enchanting moment of tranquility. That moment where they won't haunt me, where it will be quiet.

The trigger tickles my finger.

No more screaming... I just can't take it anymore.

Bang.

Silence.



_____________________________________________
Author Notes: The categories is depression, death and FP. There you go, hope this good enough :P