"Be careful if you are about to make a woman cry, because Allah counts her tears. A woman was created from a man’s rib. Not from his feet to be walked on, not from his head to be superior over, but from his side to be equal. Under his arms to be protected, and next to his heart to be loved."
didn't know mom stalks my tumblr. as well. that quote as i remember, was re-blogged last week? she could be really sneaky behind her technological illiteracy. it's an amazement with an amusement seeing her handle fatty's mac. i need to give specific instructions from across the universe every time we agreed to Skype. fatty has to paste the step-by-step somewhere, really. don't know what she does, that girl. she gets irritated with mom so easily it's funny. she asked me to come home quickly just to entertain mom. funny fatty.
anyhow, we were discussing "Passing" by Nella Larsen in class and one of my classmates spoke about her sexuality. i wouldn't know what it feels like to be cornered; to be in a position where you've to disregard yourself because you don't want to disturb the normalcy. she's lucky enough for the opportunity to voice out her fondness towards the same gender in class without being chased by the instructor. an image of such occurrence is vague, non-existent perhaps if it were to happen in Malaysia. i may be wrong however. i applause her bravery.
back to mom. with the current apprehension that has been clogging my sights, i don't ever think i could thank her enough. grateful for all the virtues that she has brought me up with. even the littlest thing counts. from taking care of your own hygiene to table manners, i feel sorry for those who'd never had the liberty of growing up in an (to me) appropriate way. even the formation of 'thoughts' plays a big role in determining your character. the way you speak, the choices of words, and just the ability to spell correctly. really. why butcher words just because you want them to appear fancy? that's merely an example but let's leave it at that.
i'm detoxing yet again. mom's right, as we age, we weigh and measure more. although i hate that daddy thinks i'm two, i secretly wish i am. because a kid wouldn't have to weigh and measure. our opinions are no longer just perceptions formed as a result of direct observation. they are outcomes from thorough measures of this and that, which include consequences and at times 'plan b' to overcome any unforeseen glitches. i'm just yapping, maybe. i get impossibly sappier each day it's silly to tickle myself to laughter. sigh.
