My Dad and I (1)

—->My conversation with my dad few weeks ago.
Dad: I’m getting old..
Me : I’m getting old too
He’s 58 and I’m approaching my 30s. Arrgh,feel so wasted!
—->I don’t remember what we were talking about but something got to do with my future and career. Well, he ended his conversation by saying this to me .
Dad: The only thing you’re good at is studying.
Me :
* Yep! I think it’s true!!!…sob sob sob . ( I said to myself)

Bila nak habis tulis tesis, cheq? (1)

Baru nak tulis chapter introduction.

Baru nak pulun baca review journal.

Bukanlah selama ini aku tak pernah sentuh journal, 

aku sentuh hanya journal bukan review supaya aku paham experiments dan serba sediikit tentang bidang kajian aku  ni.

Bukan senang nak tulis tesis, kata orang.

Senang lagi buat experiment , daripada tulis tesis.

Senang lagi buat experiment, daripada basuh radas.

Tesis dan membasuh radas memang ambil masa yang panjang. percayalah. 

Semalam lebih dari 10 jurnal yang aku baca untuk bab colon cancer saja. Otak aku tepu dan aku tiba-tiba tak faham bahasa inggeris. Terlalu tinggi istilah nya, terlalu scientific bagi otak kimia aku untuk menerima segala input APC, Kras, P53, DCC.

Bila belajar bab-bab cancer atau apa jua berkaitan dengan  asal jadinya penyakit terlalu rumit perjalanan utk cancer tu terjadi. Seperti satu litar yang perlu di aktifkan setiap kali utk jadi sesuatu.

Jadi utk malam ni aku nak pi sambung tulis bab colon cancer dan mekanisma laluannya. (pathways mechanism).

I miss writing here!

I miss my blog so badly! I will pour my words here after I've graduated, insyaAllah! I really, really miss you, my dear blog.

-marina-

Unromantisches Morgenland, aus dem Tagebuch einer Reise

The Unromantic Orient  (translated by Elma Ruth Harder) written by Leopold Weiss who later converted to Islam and become Mohammad Asad. He's a legendary to some of us who knew his life story. I've written a short intro on the dokumovie (documentary movie) about his journey to Mecca in my previous post.

Don't be fool by the title of the book nor the cover of this diary. It's more than just a diary, it has more informations than I've ever thought before just like I read "The Real Malays" by Sir Frank Swetenham.

It's about his view on Arabs, about the Palestine-Israel fate, the Balfour , the French conquest of Lebanon, about crusaders of the past, about gospel, glory, and gold, about Zionist, about the Arab's league, about Independence.

Understanding Arab is a bit hard for me eventhough I met them everyday and interact with them everytime i'm in the uni. We all have sceptical and trying to fight the stereotypes that people are labeling them. People who feeds us with what they want us to believe.

They do not know grief as what Muhammad Asad mention in his book. It is true from my two Arab friends from Yaman. If they're stuck in their projects or if they heard someone stuck in their work, they will say something comforting like " Don't worry. InsyaAllah (If Allah wills), Allah will help you. You'll work it out oneday. InsyaAllah." They will say that in a very,very comforting and easy and confidently.

There are many intersting facts about Arabs in this book that I've never cross before. They have their own witch doctor, the "Schechs" and they have Druze too.

The Schechs treated sick animals by piercing them with glowing irons to drive out the sickness in them. Sick people? They "burned" them also especially those who're mentally ill.

He also mention in his book that there was this fruit called Sabara which is the fruit of wild cactus. If you know how to pull of the prickly malicious skin, an orange coloured fresh appears and it is wonderfully concentrated, tasting cool and sweet.

This is a good book not just to understand a bit on Arabs mind and lifestyle but the best thing about this book for me is to be able to read through every pages and my mind can't stop wondering the years and the atmosphere of Palestine before this era.

:)

Muhammad Asad

excuse my english.

this is an old post of mine, just today got the time to post it in this blog.

The Old Raleigh

I miss the time when we both cycled to the beach,

Up north of this small island,

you carry me behind his small seat.

Passed by the cemetery as wide as the eyes could see,

Stretching from this spot up to the green hill,

The highest peak on this small orient.

I miss the time,

when the cars  gave away for us to cycle ahead,

when you had to stop near the Baobab tree to catch a breath,

when we reached the beach and it was hot and sunny day,

when we tried  to catch some fish but failed.

I miss this time forever,

the quality time we spent together,

as you grow wiser  and old Raleigh becomes older,

I wish one day I will be your carrier.

your daughter, Marina.

-another broken English poetry hahaha-

ps: I should be doing some calculation for my experiment tomorrow but I couldn't help it to write this piece cause it has been in my head since this morning. It was raining in the afternoon, and today's weather is just nice. Really damp and nice. I love the dampness.

Spring's Gift By Hamza Yusuf

I envy the sand that met his feet

I’m jealous of honey he tasted sweet

Of birds that hovered above his head

Of spiders who spun their sacred web

To save him from his enemies

I envy clouds formed from the seas

That gave him cover from the heat

Of a sun whose light could not compete

With his, whose face did shine so bright

That all was clear in blinding night

I envy sightless trees that gazed

Upon his form completely dazed

Not knowing if the sun had risen

But felt themselves in unison

With those who prayed, and fasted too

Simply because he told them to

With truth and kindness, charity

From God who gave such clarity

His mercy comes in one He sent

To mold our hearts more heaven bent

I envy all there at his side

Who watched the turning of the tide

As truth prevailed and falsehood fled

And hope restored life to the dead

Men and Women through him found grace

To seek together God’s noble face

I envy the cup that gave him drink

His thoughts that helped us all to think

To be one thought that passed his mind

Inspiring him to act so kind

For me this world is not one jot

If I could simply be a thought

From him to God throughout the ages

As revelation came in stages

I pity all who think it odd

To hear him say there is one God

Or he was sent by God to men

To hone their spirits’ acumen

It’s pride that blinds us from the sight

That helps good men to see his light

He taught us all to be God’s slaves

And he will be the one who saves

Humanity from sinful pride

Muhammad has God on his side

So on this day be blessed and sing

For he was born to grace our Spring

With lilies, flowers, life’s rebirth

In a dome of green like his on earth

By Hamza Yusuf

Minggu lepas minggu maulidur rasul kat Uni. Meriah gak aku tengok. Rasanya before this tak pernahlak depa buat. Aku terjumpa tulisan Sheikh Hamza Yusuf kat website depa. Niat nak tulis poem tak seberapa aku sendiri malam ni terbantut otak tak stabil, jiwa jadi malas..nota Ames test bertaburan depan mata. Hehe..so maybe next time, when the right time comes, where the mood will appear behind the silverline of moonlight. Yes, aku merepek.

MUATH, BON VOYAGE!

MUATH, BON VOYAGE!

There is a friend a grad student he was,
from Gaza he came for a special cause.
He brought along his American accent,
I thought he was Caucasian by accident. .

With his white WAP he roared the street,
his trademark was the sound of screech,
Proudly driving her all around,
every corner and every town.

Now he's leaving on the air plane,
crossing Petra, the olive land,
mark his journey stops in this lane,
submitted his thesis and viva in the end,

Forget the fluffy DNA calf thymus,
No more minor or major grooves,
Some pain staking experiments.
You have reached your accomplishments.

Keep this note as a seal of memories,
of the hydrogen bonding of friendships,
of the intercalative brotherhood in the lab,
of the electrostatic interactions assistance,
and of the groovy crazy you.


Selamat tinggal our dear friend,
May Allah bless you always.
Au revoir!

by Marina Maidin , 3.56 am, Thursday, Feb, 2010 / 11 Rabiulawwal 1431.

puisi utk sahabat, bukanlah satu puisi yang sempurna bahasanya.