C’est ma Famille

(Reality in this present moment feels like a convulated car cable, with sparks of electric fire bursting at intervals.)

Putting that aside, I need to log in the fact that I’ve recently achieved my lifelong dream of bringing my family to London! (Marquee, caps, billboards, fireworks!!)

Pulling off the first overseas family vacation (on the other side of the world) in 20 years is no mean feat, but I can safely breathe now that it was managed brilliantly (if I may say so myself). The list of places we visited could get its own nomination in the Overachievers Hall of Fame, but I am so so glad that my family got to see the wonders of not one, but multiple cities in UK and Europe. The only detterring factor to the whole vacation was that it passed by too quickly - though not without a fair share of drama, quibbles, and typical quirks. Every day brought on a completely new landscape, all breathtaking in their own way, but it meant that we didn’t have much room to digest the whole experience. Multiple car rides, games, vistas after vistas, and a quick but important excursion down memory lane in Cheetham Hill only melded our bonds stronger. Before we all knew it, it was time for everyone to go back (did I mention my parents got to travel business class?!).

I write all this in a slightly blasé way but I know for a fact that it meant the world to everyone. There are small crevices in my heart that were softened seeing my parents sitting front row at the top of the double decker bus, giggling; my brother wandering the wonders of this city alone, exploring East London’s music scene; my sister and her husband taking photos in front of a sparkling Eiffel Tower and running off to Camden food hunts. Mostly it was my Dad cuddling with Mamad, or Mamad sleeping with my Mum, that long car journey back from Brighton with my parents, and just having all of the family sat together around a dining table and eating. I know enough about the world to grasp what an absolute blessing it all was, and I am so grateful to have been able to experience us together, and to show them around my life here, so tangibly. It was, in its own small part, an tiny ode that say Here’s my life in London, everyone, I’m glad you’re a part of it now. 

——

 

Two outtakes

i. I’ve an immense appreciation towards the fact that my parents treat me as an adult, in the sense that I am a person with agency and character. That they see me for who I am, for my capabilities, and the personality that I flavour the family. My worth is weighed in both weaknesses and strengths, but given that it’s not marred by pre-conceived notions of the version of me as a child or teenager, I am more than satisfied. They move around me as a 33 year old woman, who is their daughter, who is also their friend, confidant, and someone they can rely on. This thought alone has fulfilled me in the most loved way possible. 

ii. Living abroad has carried me so far away from my role as (eldest) daughter and sister. While it comes with its own challenges and frustrations, I find purposeful existence within my familial framework. I am the one who says ‘I’ll Sort it Out’, the one who tells off my younger siblings, the one who drives the car, the one who plans the journey and contribute to a hefty part of the decision making. I am Kak Long. I am Shasha. I am ‘Nanti Shasha marah’. These are aspects of myself that do not get to see the light of day in London, where I am my own sovereign entity, away from my blood-related unconditional-loving kin, who have bore witness to all versions in my lifetime, and require me to step up into my place with them. To play that part again in this side of the world is a thing I’ll miss. 

Joyeaux Janvier

 

Somewhere in between having my face as Malaysia Airlines ambassador being disseminated across the digital-verse, witnessing two Prime Ministers meet at 10 Downing Street, having my design be the backdrop of a national event, and finally stepping foot into Old Trafford (with lounge access!).. the first month of the year passed by.   

Il fait pleut dans mon coeure

These evenings London passes by under a film of dusty rain, dim lit rooms with glittering ornaments, soft pearly fluorescence of late hour offices, dark shrouds hunkering underneath flimsy umbrellas, a peek of festive wool through thick coats, festive baubles reflected in the rainbow wet roads.

Despite the drench and deluge I love London in winter. 

5 Octobre

 

How divine it is to find bounds of blooming, pleasurable existence, 

within the demands of the day to day. 

Tempus

Dear Dante,

It has come to my attention that I have spent the bulk of the last decade of my life in London, more so than Shah Alam. This is a testament to the sheer audacity of time, that ten years have passed in the exhale of a breath, without anyone batting an eyelid. How it leaps, how it floats, how it becomes delirious and distorted in hindsight. Did I experience enough? Have I ever paused to fully appreciate the present as it was passing? I'd like to think so. I'd like to believe this digital archive has been a witness to some of it's most prominent moments.

Unquestionably, the design of my life has surpassed my expectations. Without fully realising it, I ended up threading in the paths that led me to live in London; threads that I didn't think would be a definite part, but is now inevitably a large chunk of my identity. An essential core of your personality lies within the crevices of the every day; and my everyday, at least for the past decade, has been spent in this city that I now call home. As the postcodes prove, London is as much a part of me as Shah Alam now. I am the girl that moved and lived abroad. 

There are surely external markers that signifies this shift within me. It's the ease with which I spend without currency conversion, casually contactless, the soft 't's in my 'water' and my 'what's, the smattering of 'cheers' and the 'faff' in conversations, the unquestionable respect for a zebra crossing. I come back to Shah Alam more and more as an intermediate visitor, squeezing in a quick catch up here, or a brief visit there, over the course of a month that I'm able to go home. The landscapes of my childhood become a archaeological site, and I am more aware of how the sun glints differently, how traffic compounds, and how much sugar there is in almost everything. 

Despite (or maybe because of) all this, the beauty of this realisation is that I am more richer with the multitudes of culture within me. It's a privilege to have home on both sides of the globe, and to be an amalgamation of this identity. I've come to appreciate that while internal layers sparks a more interesting personality, being a multi or hyphenated person (in this case, dual destined) on physical terms adds an undeniable perceptional value. I wonder where the next ten years will have me. Wherever I end up, I hope it's with love. 

AD.

22/11/23

On a pale buttercup morning in November 2023, you’ll wake up from the comforting cocoon of your bed, in an apartment in central London. The day stretches on promisingly ahead, chilly and welcoming, a perfect brew of winter warmth. Though you’re late, you manage to hop into a black cab to get to your office in Belgrave Square. There isn’t much on your to-do list for the day, as an Information Officer for the Malaysian Embassy, so you spend the morning finishing your 28th book of the year, an intriguing tale of game designers. It concludes by noon, and you swing by to an impromptu party for a colleague on the third floor, where someone offers you an ice cream cone, then dash out for lunch with another colleague. Spontaneously, you both agree to dine in Knightsbridge, at the infamous Nusr-et steakhouse, and spend a languid 2 hour lunch eating and chatting in that seemingly sumptuous setting. By the time you finish, the day's curtains are closing to twilight, and you both walk back to the office, passing through the crystalline streetscape of the city’s Christmas. You pack up for the day, and grab the tennis racket for your weekly course at Hyde Park. You leave your bags at the office and depart only with your coat and sports attire. The weather’s dry enough that you decide to walk the 25 minutes. Jordan Mackampa’s What Am I Supposed To Do plays in the airpods your bestfriends gifted you, and the capital’s 5pm hubub mingles with traffic, people, and lights. Tennis goes decently, even though your performance was a little lackluster this week, and you chat to your friends and flatmate on the way home (maybe your weekly Muay Thai is getting in the way of your tennis movements?). Back home, two adorable cats jump on you, demanding love and attention. You relax on the couch before cooking up spaghetti bolognaise, watching an Indonesian series on Netflix, debating on the merits of cinema. There is an option to use your favourite gel skincare face mask, but you opt for a L'Occitane serum instead, before diving back into your bed. 

You grant a silent prayer of gratitude, and give a nod to 2020 you, to 2004 you, and say my love, my darling, you’ve made it this far. 

You're so golden

 

Life's karma has a way of laughing at me in some form of Shakespearean twist. 

Setting aside the debris of past entanglements, I was able to surrender to the moment and just get absolutely carried away with the music. I can't quite articulate how many hours I'd spent listening to this exact album, this exact voice, this exact tune, how many days I'd plotted to be here, to be anywhere but where I was, how these lyrics were a constant companion to my enclosed world, as long as four years ago, before more of life happened. I'm rambling and fumbling my thoughts here but there just aren't enough sentiments to articulate how absolutely surreal it was to have memories and emotions thrown back at you through music. It's been a hell of a ride since Fine Line first came out, and after it all, I can't believe I'd actually made it. 

Something about the Summer Sun

A quick recap between that spring to summer transition. 

Bismillah from Belgravia

Blessings upon blessings upon blessings

It's strikes me as unreal that my prayers are coming to life right before my eyes. How many hours and days and years had I spent fantasising about living in a beautiful London Victorian apartment, walking through Hyde Park, and working for notable organisations in this city. I am mindfully accepting this as my reality, taking it all in with immeasurable gratitude. By the grace of god.

A proper recap

Thank you 2022

Here's to finally moving to the city of my dreams, to fulfilling my umrah during my 30th, to volunteering in Syrl4 and Tanzania, to enjoying so many beautiful sunsets, snows and sights. To the local hammams in Istanbul and feet massages in Bangkok. To muffin man scones in Kensington, Korean bbq in Piccadilly, nasi lemak Wanjo in Kampung Baru, and eating wheatflour in Tanga. To getting recognised as a global talent, noted by Tatler, and to multiple exhibitions and workshops. To being healthy, and being able to live life with my loved ones. 

Final and most precious shoutout to my two amazing flatmates, without whom I wouldn't have survived the year without my mental health and sense of self intact. Thank you Mad & Mido, I love you both. 

Regent's Park

 

So few of my dearest dreams ever appear tangibly in reality. It just so happens that on a gloomy November evening, these visuals by Louise Bradley interiors materialised on my screen, and I found my heart skipping a beat. There it was, a vision of my future home, curated as close to perfection as I'd ever seen in real life. 

I'd sat in these beautiful rooms so many times in my mind. Feeling my way around warmed marble floors, tucking into the plush sofas as the cool winter light cascaded around me, glancing up at framed paintings and sketches by my parents. I had unclasped shimmering earrings and scattered them carelessly on the dark tables after a glittering night out with my husband, as he took rest in his dark wood office. My children, books, and pets have been lovingly caressed as I sat on those luscious cushions. They would stroll in occasionally from their outdoor horse riding outings, maybe scuffing the silver carpets with some mud, and I'd make sure they clean up after themselves. Numerous evenings spent reading to the younger ones in the living room, and intimate dinner parties at the round table. It was, and will be the home of many lovely gatherings and restful nights. 

Thus my life changes

My decade in the United Kingdom begins. 

Remember

November

 

Hello August

 

 hOLy CoW I'm in LONDON!!!!

Romance, Reprieve

London, you'll always be home.

A Tale of Two Cities

1. The difference between your personal and internet life

Despite officially living in London for the past three years, I think the bulk of my growth, my sense of self, and my spirit is anchored to Brighton. This picturesque, quirky seaside city was witness and host to a medley of my significant experiences. This is where my love and my disasters happened, where I learned to earn and stand on my own two feet in UK, where I fostered friendships and the closest thing to a family far away from home. There's so much of me and my life in England that's scattered all over the routes from Falmer to Churchill Square to the Station, that fundamentally, it's probably where I learned to grow up in my early 20s.

I recognize this phenomenon as the separation of formalities. From my public self and all its shared visage in Greenwich, versus the private, quiet life I lead most momentously in Brighton. The glitz that often stars on my social profiles - the awe inspiring view from my Cutty Sark apartment, coupled with a student life in one of the most beautiful campuses in the world, is undeniably a part of me, but its one that I also consciously uphold. But the other me - the one that takes the no. 25 bus to town, squatting on her friends' floors, cooks, cleans, works double shifts endlessly and scrapes her arms over various kitchen chores in the restaurant - this was version that most imperatively allowed me to retain my personal identity away from what was expected of me.

Despite London's iconic attributes the respite Brighton offered me is one that I will eternally cherish.

Brighter than Sunshine

I never understood before // I never knew what love was for

Oh What a Feeling

Masters Graduate!

Masters in Architecture, RIBA II Graduate

University of Greenwich, 2017. 

Raya 2017

Before I forget

I welcomed Syawal with nary an exuberant expectation. It was predicted to be another simple, uneventful, albeit pleasant day. What caught me by charming surprise was the feeling of sheer exhilaration - from dawn to dusk, I was carried away in a whirlwind of sights, smiles and social affairs. For nothing else, I am amazingly grateful for the blessings of my first ever Eid in London. 

A snapshot of thoughts throughout the day..

1. East London Mosque, its bulky stature, and the hordes of Muslims gathered around its compound for the morning prayer sessions. The outstanding realisation was of how diverse it really was. I don't think I've ever celebrated Eid surrounded by such an international crowd, senses feasting on the various ethnics, languages and traditional garments being paraded. From the Nigerians clad in their colourful cotton gowns, the Arabs and their pale faces, the Indians and their cloths of shimmering organza. And the Malays, oh so eye catching in our colourful kurungs and sampins. There I was, a Muslim, a Malaysian, one of the many in this world, observing this act of faith in this metropolitan capital we all called home. Passing each other on the city streets, sitting in the same tube carriages, smiling, understanding and united in our celebration. 

2. The hallmarks of my social circle, and the insurmountable feeling of friendship and camaraderie that enveloped me in its welcome. From Erna's home in Paddington, with her delicious Kuih Lapis all the way from Sarawak; to Aunty Ana's festivities in Leyton, that could have rivaled the celebrations in Malaysia, for her incredible food and numerous guests that made the house merry. Wrapping up the day with Ayne's Nasi Kerabu in Victoria, and making some new friends along the way. Ultimately, I was not awarded the luxury to pause or bask in the lethargy that often comes during such events, instead was whisked from party to party, smiling all the way, not a care in the world. It stands as a significant element to my life in London. That I was on my own, navigating my schedule and my company, taking pleasure in my engagements as I wished. 

Believe

A major component of success, I consider, lies in intention and inherent belief. You have to firmly, confidently, passionately believe in something enough to will yourself to make it happen. You have to sacrifice and risk a multitude of comforts, and pull the strings of the universe to compose them according to your purpose. This is not a guarantee - there are no certainties in this equation - but in believing it true, you're already a lightning rod of gravity. The law of attraction works in atoms as much as it works in wave lengths, as much as the currency of souls bargaining in prayer. There is force in believing, there is weight in faith.