Life truly does unfold in mysterious, sometimes astonishing ways.

I didn't expect I would be here typing away for this neglected blog again. My last update was a little over a year ago. I was battling with self-worth issues then- associating my "usefulness" as a human being to a job offer. In hindsight, I don't blame myself for feeling that way, nor do I think it was silly of me to be in that state. I think if I hadn't felt that, I wouldn't be where I am now.

So where am I now?

I've moved out from my family's home to a place where I know absolutely no one. It takes me a couple of minutes to get to my workplace, which is one of the biggest blessings I'm eternally thankful for. I cook now- and surprisingly not occasionally. I call my mum to ask about ingredients. I send her pictures of seafood at the supermarket to ask her whether they are fresh or not. I watch Fleabag, Normal People or Community before going to bed at 10.30 p.m. on weekdays (wow, who would have thought I'd have a normal sleep schedule?). I keep track of my expenses- recording each and every one of them in my trusty Notes app. I do feel homesick every now and then, but I'm adapting better than expected from someone who has only been away from home for university.

And hey, I'm turning 25 tomorrow. In my head, it's like this big milestone. Half a decade away from turning 30. You're not exactly a young adult anymore, but you're not exactly a full-fledged adult either. But heck, you are expected to have accomplished a lot of things by now. It doesn't help that a popular factoid claims that 25 is the age where your frontal lobe is fully developed. So whatever nonsense I have going on in my life now should be packed into a box, sealed tightly, and discarded somewhere far away, right?

Well, we'll see about that.

You actually don't think about having ice cream when encountering a (minor) inconvenience as often. What you do is you talk to Ummi (my mum) and take a good nap afterwards. So I think you've gone for a healthier option. But when you do feel like having some ice cream, you only want the Gula Apung one.

Good news: you still are!

You have also watered down the "harsh critic" inside you. You still try to do your best - of course - you still absolutely, completely abhor the idea of going into something unprepared or underprepared. But you also know when you have done what you could given the circumstances- time, resources, etc. If a lesson goes slightly off-track, you don't really beat yourself up anymore. At times, you still do. But I think you've developed some kind of alarm at the back of your head, and it goes off whenever you find yourself dwelling on what could've or should've happened. I hope we keep that little alarm on whenever we start feeling self-punitive.

Well, you certainly were all for self-peace, I'll give you that. You thought that by forgiving everyone - including those who don't deserve it - is a way for you to achieve that. Here's the thing: it's not necessary, especially when those people do not earn that forgiveness. As mentioned by the one and only Taylor Swift, "You don't have to forgive, and you don't have to forget. You can move on without any of those happening."

It's great that you learnt that at the age of 20, but frankly speaking, we're still on a long journey towards internalizing it. You're still anxious about what could go wrong. You still have a knack for visualizing the worst case scenarios. Most times, you like to imagine the worst thing that could happen because you think that if you have thought about it first, then it would somehow be blocked out or prevented from happening at all.

But being scared of "what ifs" isn't entirely a bad thing. In fact, it can be used as a strength. Feeling that way means you always want to be prepared. However, you should know when to step back, take a deep breath, trust the process, and trust Him. Hold on to the concept of tawakkul.

As you grew older, I think you've become quite afraid of asking. You're scared of asking questions because they may sound trivial, and you don't want to take up someone's time just to entertain those questions. I noticed that you also have a tendency to start your questions by apologizing- and sometimes, I'm not sure if you're apologizing for taking up the other person's time, or you're apologizing for not knowing everything. If it's the latter, I think it's because you're used to being the 'point of reference' of some sort, that when the role is reversed, you start to look down on your capabilities. If it's the latter, I truly hope we can fix it. You love learning, don't you? Asking is learning. There will be people who will make you feel bad for asking questions that you genuinely seek answers for, but that only tells you about their character, not yours.

That's all! Although there were 20 lessons, I just selected a few of them because I feel like I don't have much to say in response to the others. I have to admit: the 20-year-old me had some wisdom in her, but she was noticeably influenced by whatever concept or mentality that was common then. One can even say that she was in an echo chamber and needed years of growing up to nudge her into having a stand of her own.

So if the 30-year-old me somehow remembers about this blog and magically decides that it's the wisest decision to visit this post after five years, I think it would be interesting for her to respond to it as well. Maybe the 30-year-old me can answer these questions too: am I still in the same workplace? Am I married? Do I still love the songs that I love today? Are the people I love still around?

Oh, it's terrifying to think too far ahead. Let's do our best for now. After all, it's the only timeline that we have some control over.

Welcome, March. Bismillah.

For a self-proclaimed music enthusiast, I sure have a strong tendency to listen to the same ten songs over and over again. I think it has a lot to do with my fondness towards familiarity. Nonetheless, sometimes I get frustrated knowing that there is plenty of good music out there that I have yet to discover. Hence, I've been trying to squeeze in some time to step out of my little "music bubble". Guess what? I found out that there are other artists that can make me feel things the way Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers do. Shocker.

I'm delighted to recommend these five wonderful artists that should be in your playlist starting today:

These past few years have witnessed an impressive amount of young talent bringing colours to the music industry. Billie Marten is another young force to be reckoned with. In fact, I think she has got to be one of today's most polished songwriters. Her lyrical skills are incredibly refined. Even if the prominent jazz/indie folk influence across her repertoire may not necessarily be your cup of tea, you cannot dismiss the maturity and wisdom that she ever so effortlessly exudes in her lyrics. 

Currently, I am in love with her second full-length album Feeding Seahorses by Hand, particularly its second track titled Mice. In one interview, she mentioned that the song was written when she was feeling "empty and lacking a lot of purpose" (sounds a lot like yours truly). With lines brimming with self-awareness like "I can doubt myself and then I'll doubt you" and "To me, I am my only vice", it's impossible to not resonate with her music.

Billie Marten's music doesn't demand for your attention; rather, it's much like that one friend who is more than happy to accompany you as you study/work, do chores or simply lie in your bed hearing the pitter-patter of the rain outside. Even in Flora Fauna (her third full album) in which she experimented with productions that mark a departure from the mostly acoustic-led sound in the two preceding albums, there's still beautiful subtlety underneath. While that is true, when you do pay attention to her, her music can be the reason to shut down everything else that's going on around you for just so you can indulge in an introspective experience she can bring you with her profound lyricism.

I truly have to thank Spotify from the deepest of my heart for this one. When Joy Oladokun's song heaven from here first came up when I put my "Discover Weekly" playlist on shuffle, I remember thinking, "Wow, THIS is the artist that we should be paying attention to." I am not exactly the most erudite in terms of vocal abilities, but as a listener, I can say with great confidence that she has so much versatility in her voice. This versatility is translated into the range of genres that she has explored and excelled in: pop, folk, R&B, ballad...you name it.

One of the things I love about Oladokun's music is its rawness. When I listened to i see america (a track off her 2020 full album in defense of my own happiness) for the first time, I found myself hanging on to each and every word recounting her story as a woman of colour. That is how you know the artist is not just a great songwriter, but also an astounding storyteller. Also, Poison off her first album Carry is, dare I say, one of the best songs I have stumbled upon this year. The way she writes and sings about the detrimental pleasure gained from a perilous, doomed relationship - calling it "a dagger draped in jewelry" - is everything I believe a ballad should be.

When I read her update, I was brought back to my primary school years. The girl and I barely talked to each other. The only time we would interact would be pre-Annual Sports Day and the D-day itself. We were in the same sports house and regular participants of the 100-metre sprint race. During every tryout, she and I would always compete against each other. The girl would consistently come in first place, and I second. No matter how hard I ran.

I'm not the happiest that I've been. I know that I'm not doing what I really want to do. Nothing is going according to my "perfect" post-graduation plan. My day starts at 7.20 a.m, I babysit until 5 p.m. (which involves a lot of chasing after my nephew who crawls and climbs onto furniture like rent is due. Seriously, do infants/toddlers ever get tired?), do chores in between, spend time with my family after dinner, and I only have around two hours at night for myself before I get too tired to even watch one anime episode. I'm devastatingly anxious about the future. I'm most certainly not getting married. I feel like the world has moved on while I am stagnant. Everyone else has already achieved something- quick on their feet, while I am nowhere closer to where I want to be. Everything feels like a race. I'm terrified of falling behind. I'm scared of not being able to take the perfect next step that will help me move forward and catch up with the others.

That explains my spiraling into anger, discontent, anxiety- and everything in between. 

I don't talk to many people nowadays; I do have a couple of friends that I stay in touch with. Talking to them has helped me to gradually change my perception on the whole "figuring things out" stuff. Nobody ever has things really, really figured out. If people say that you will know absolutely everything about who you are and what you want to do after four years of degree, I'll tell you this: you know less about who you are and what you want to do after those years- and that's perfectly fine. If I have learnt anything these past few months, it's that the only perfect next step that exists is the one that the Almighty has planned for you.

If the perfect plan that He has planned for me for now is to devote myself to my family, watch my nephew grow into the beautiful boy that he is today, then I will embrace that. I believe in the concept of rizq (sustenance). What's meant for me will find its way to me in the most timely manner. What I can do now is commit to my present responsibilities, keep trying, keep praying, count my blessings, and see the beauty of the present.

"If you are grateful, I would certainly give you more." (14:7)

May we get not what we want, but what we deserve. 

It has been a pleasure with sporadic sprinkles of pain and sorrow to be with you.

When you came, I was eager to make you my year. My soul was full of enthusiasm and excitement to make the most of you. I even bought a planner - all determined to make you as organised as possible. I was also determined to make sure that when you came, every path that I was going to take would lead me to nothing but pure joy and happiness. 

But when you actually raised your curtains, reality dawned on me. It was definitely not going to be a smooth-running show. The audience wouldn't always laugh at my punchlines the way I imagined them to. The props wouldn't always be set in place and on time the way they were during rehearsals. I wouldn't be consistently in tune when I performed the musical numbers. 

Dear 2019, you have been one of the most memorable years - both in the "you've opened a number of doors for me" and the "you've kicked me in the ass" sense.

First, let's talk about how you've been an unforgiving ass-kicker.

You've challenged my emotions to heights and lengths that I had never imagined any year would. I experienced days when getting out of bed felt tiresome and all I wanted to do was sleep to shut the whole world out. I faced days when I had to walk on eggshells and making sure that everything I did was immaculate. I had nights when I became so well-acquainted to the sound of my own sobbing. Even worse, you left me with no options other than having to adjust to having a stranger as a roommate. That just meant when I cried, I had to do it silently. I had to stifle my sobs under my blanket so that I wouldn't wake her. Crying is painful; having to pretend that you're not is even more excruciating. But it's okay. I'm in a better place now.

And hell, you also had a lot of surprises in store for me. I had to rekindle relationships with people I had not met for years. I had to pretend that whatever incidents that took place five years ago were merely fabricated realities, forged out of spite, anger and frustration. I had to go back to places that I hadn't been to for so long. It was not easy. But it's okay. I did (and am doing) those for the people I love.

You've led me down roads where I had to encounter people who seemed to have zero knowledge of what common decency and respect are. Months after your arrival, 2019, I found myself at war with my self-esteem and confidence. I struggled with a negative body image. I became so hateful towards the numbers that I saw on the scale. I became hateful towards myself. When people said "you look fat" to me, I went home and reinforced that statement onto myself. When people held my arms and told me how big they looked, I went home and wished I looked differently. But it's okay. I've learned to be comfortable in my body now. It's one of the hardest journeys I've ever embarked on. I've encountered red lights, but red lights aren't forever.

It's unfair to disclose solely your punches, hits and curses. It's time to talk about how you've also given me remedy and blessings.

Months after your arrival, my family and I moved to a new home. When we moved here, it also meant we moved away from a toxic and suffocating living space - far from demeaning, back-stabbing, two-faced companies. It feels so much freer and happier here. After so long, we finally have a place we can really, genuinely call 'home'.

2019, you've also given me chances to change the way I perceive friendships. I used to feel like I was nothing but an option to my friends, so I was never really good at sustaining friendships. But this year, I have grown closer to my small circle. I can actually be myself! I don't have to uphold and carry the weight of that pretentious image of "having everything together" which had been imposed on me for years. Because I really don't. I'm just as messy and uncertain. And my friends are cool about it. At least I think they are. Oh God, I HOPE they are.

I'm doing fairly well in my studies. Being a TESL major has been....well, challenging, to say the least...but being surrounded by supportive people makes it a lot easier. I've also picked up a new instrument, so my three-piece dream collection is finally complete! And 2019, you've rekindled my love for writing poetry and short stories too. I stayed away from that kind of writing for quite a while, but this year, I've realised that I still have a soft spot for them. Who knows, maybe I'll write a novel one day. And by one day, perhaps...in 2020. Speaking of writing, I've penned some of my favourite lyrics I've ever written in my life. 2019, you've probably awakened the writer in me - the one that had fallen into a deep slumber I thought she would never bother to open her eyes again.

Dear 2019, you've also taught me about relationships. You've made me realise that goodness, I'm a bad communicator. I never say what I feel. And you've taught me to put down my guard and listen and not see every syllable as a battle cry. Even though you made me question a lot of things sometimes, you taught me to pause and reflect. Above all, you taught me to listen, to myself and to the other person.

I think one of the most important lessons that you've given me, 2019, is that I have to learn to say "it's okay" to myself. If I can give away forgiveness so relentlessly and incessantly to other people, I can surely do that to myself too.

So dear 2019, it's okay if you haven't been the best and the most amazing year. It's okay if you didn't treat me the way you treated other people. It's okay if I can't relate to their "this year, I'm the happiest I've ever been" posts. I'm still thankful for you. It doesn't mean I'm any less deserving of happiness. 

So long, 2019. Dear 2020, we'll do better.

My mother fell asleep in the living room tonight.

Usually I would just let her sleep until it's time to wake her up so that she could go to bed. She always has so much to do during the day, so I don't have the heart to disturb her peaceful sleep so soon. But tonight, I felt a bit selfish. I felt like I needed more time with her. I silently and quite foolishly cursed time for passing by so quickly that it was already 10 p.m, which means my mother would no doubt lose to drowsiness - no matter how tough of a fight she tries to put up. And so I went to her. My mother's not a heavy sleeper; the slightest movement and noise could easily wake her up. As expected, she immediately woke up when she felt me near. Instinctively - as if knowing exactly what I wanted - she made way for me and I lied down next to her.

I hugged her as she slowly fell into a slumber again. I closed my eyes and listened to her steady breathing. In that moment, I wasn't a 21-year-old student trying to get a degree in TESL, who's feeling anxious about entering third year and trying to be distracted by listening to music and watching Netflix. I wasn't a girl who's currently battling her inner demons who are ever so adamant in trying to convince her that she's not as strong, positive and happy as she claims to be. In that moment, I was just a daughter hugging her mother - hoping that to her mother, the embrace was as gentle and as loving as those countless hugs she always generously gives to her daughter. 

I don't really remember anything that happened before I was six years old. But that's okay. At least, this limited storage still allows me to recall that one important moment when I was six and God showed me a proof that my mum was indeed a hero. I was waiting for my parents to come pick me up from pre-school. Every one of my friends had gone home and I was the only one left. Then, a couple of older boys came and picked on me because I was much smaller and defenseless. I mean, I only had a yellow belt in Taekwondo at that time, so what could I possibly do? Before it could get any worse, my mum came and saved the day. 

When I was 14, I had to make visits to the hospital to see the orthopedic specialist because my knees were in pain. I had to make appointments for rehabilitation. In the process, I got made fun of because I was too young to experience that kind of pain. But my mother knew my struggles and how painful it was for me. She loyally accompanied me to every hospital visit and every rehab session. She never felt like her time and energy were wasted even though the blood test result came in and no one knew what was wrong with my knees.

When I was 17, I went to a public restroom alone. I'm the kind of person who would check whether there's water or not before proceeding with whatever business I have. Apparently, there was no water that day. So I went out of the cubicle. And I saw my mother outside, with a concerned look on her face. I asked her why she was there, and she said she saw a man coming into the restroom. If she wasn't quick enough, only God knows what could have happened.

I can list down endless examples of how my mum not only saved me from harm that other people could inflict on me, but also harm that I could inflict on myself.

When I was in my final year of high school and preparing for the big examination, she was there for me to make sure that I didn't feel alone. At 8 p.m every single evening like clockwork before I began my revision session, she would make me a glass of iced Nescafe. I would study in the living room and she would accompany me until I was done at 11 p.m. When I came home crying after I sat for that devilishly difficult Additional Mathematics papers and thought I wouldn't be able to get a good grade, she comforted me. She even got me some chicken rice. Honestly, how much better could it get from there?

While I was stressing out over one of the assignments I had to do during my third semester, she stayed up until 1 a.m (which is a rare occurrence) and stayed online on Whatsapp to check up on me. She must have been sleepy and tired and her day would start in five hours; but she was risking it all just to show that she believed in me - even when I didn't believe in myself.

No matter how much I have grown, my mother would always have my back. She still makes iced Nescafe for me as if my life depended on it. Every single time I worry about not doing well in a certain semester, she would comfort me and lift my worries off my shoulders. She's brilliant at being the best of my support system. But then again, she's good at a lot of things. Perhaps the only thing she's not good at is telling me  exactly how much salt I should add to my cooking. 

I hope to be as good, loving, kind and gentle as she has always been to me.

My mother fell asleep in the living room tonight. I lied down next to her, listened to her steady breathing and prayed to God that I would never run out of chances to listen to it.