Untitled Journal

What's the story, morning glory?

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Picture Perfect


b2.jpgI read a comment in my wedding photographer’s Flickr page that said, " So you’re her photographer of choice! Nice pics too, small wonder that she chose you " and I replied, " I chose him for all the obvious reasons."

My wedding photographer was Nazim Zafri which you can see his works at his self-tiltled dot com.

I understand now that when it comes to choosing photographer to appoint, the considerations have to go beyond his portfolio. Apart from what you can see with your eyes, what you can feel in your hands matters as much too. When it comes to making decisions with wedding I’ve learnt to say nothing is perfect, and having to be decisive, I had to settle for whatever that was perfect at that time, and Nazim was one of it.

I hate explaining myself. I don’t see any reason why I need to analyse my decisions other than the fact that they were done following my heart.  And people kept questioning why I took on someone they never heard of, someone whose works are unfamiliar to them.  And people give a damn because apparently, I left a remark in Malaysian photography world, which I’m sure it is a very tiny, tiny, small one.

I admit that choosing photographer for my wedding is one of the most difficult search I had to do, just like in all of the hantarans, the right handbag was the hardest to find. With such a little time to survey, finding photographer is no different than roaming London back and forth from Oxford finding the perfect handbag to display.

Of course I did not seek Nazim in the beginning because I was as unfamiliar to his works just as these other people. I had my eyes set on an Indonesian photographer which I’ve loved for years and although he has agreed to the appointment, it was left in despair due to my unavailability to provide him an assistant. It would’ve been perfect, but the one I settled with was not so far from it anyway.

I’ve learnt that it’s easier to follow your heart than to follow what people want you to do.  And I have no regrets whatsoever.

Filling the Blank

Saturday, 03.39 am.

I can’t sleep. I’ve been trying to since I crawled in at 1 am. And I can’t remember the last time I ever truly slept. It’s so hard to when my mind is constantly thinking, worrying and predicting, concerned of uncertainties and all that crap.

I’m worried I am starting to lose the joys in life, always anxious about my depressing existence and the routine that has made me this. I can not find time anymore to do what I like, everything else seems to turn into a chase of status, the big marathon to success when success itself is still subjective and undefinable. The money and the brands and the things I can afford and cannot. The insane comparison between you and me and everyone else in the world who does it better or worse. What is all this shit? And why do I even bother?

I pulled myself together for years reading architecture, loving its discipline and the feelings of it and wonders of what it can do, only to end up with predictable future and ongoing schedule of repetitions, and the only joy I could find with life is that my new office is freaking groovy and I work with two flat screens machine? And no matter how much I try to be joyful about it, I always found myself narrowing it down to one word – denial.

Truth – probably the time to seek it again will come after all. I found it once, lost it, and I need to regain.


I want to go home.

It’s 6 minutes past 5 and I don’t give a monkey. It’s Friday goddammit. My eyes cannot take it anymore. I’ve been killing time for the past 56 minutes because I finished my works too early. I don’t even bother perfecting it because I want to go home. I need my bed and my big ass telly to watch my Friends. I need to pray because all this stinking people with wine smelling mouths has gotten in my nerves. I need to be in my fabulous room that I have just lavishly decorated a month ago to make me feel this is all worth it. The worth of time being away from home, being away from the darkroom I’ve been longing to go and being away from photography.

I cannot seat one more minute on this blue chair. I cannot stand looking at this screen that is about to make me blind. These lovely, drunk people who just couldn’t wait sunset have bored me silly. I have to get out of this ridiculous quiet room that makes me feel deaf the whole day. I have to close this thick book and stop the crap of building construction away.

Please God, let it be 5.30.

Oh wait. Szhamek just said it’s time to say goodbye.



1050 am


Refer to drawing 103 for indication of acoustic material zone. This doesn’t need to be drawn just yet, but this report refers to it.

What I need you to do on Thusday 13th is research materials suggested here as recommended in the report, print off some examples and keep same PDF copies downloaded from the web.

Also need you to produce some suggested layouts on the room elevations of designs for applying acoustic panels. What designs / patterns are available on materials? Or are they just plain / one colour.

Also get a ball park cost for supply & fix. Cost can be a square metre rate. Eg:£25 per sqm.

– Mark

Seriously. I’ll go bananas if I hear one more also.


Last night as I tucked myself under my duvet and murmuring my nawaitu to fast, suddenly I recalled a memory back when I was 8. At that time just like everybody else, I was trained to fast and being childish I was, I found it really hard. I was always constantly finding any possible reason not to fast and one day I phoned up Abah in office after school.

"Abah, Adik rasa puasa Adik dah terbatal hari ni. "

"Kenapa?" Abah asked.

"Adik berborak-borak dengan kawan masa rehat. Lepas tu tetiba Adik rasa air liur dia termasuk dalam mulut Adik. Sikit je, tapi Adik tertelan lah!"

Sometimes I swear I can still remember the sound of Abah’s laughter in my head whenever I recall that. A lot has changed since that. They don’t call me Adik anymore and I learnt that my fast won’t be broken unintentionally.


Along turns 27 today. It’s always nice to have another sibling turns older than you first. Sometimes it helps me to come in peace that I am at this age that I am now. And I can shoot questions like :  do you think you’re getting wiser, or just older?


So between the first day of fasting, my brother’s birthday and acoustic panels, I think I’m going to be OK.

Tuna Melt Panini


I have greater appreciation of my parents since I start working.

I mean, how do you do this? 5 days a week, 9am – 5.30pm? For the rest of your life? And at the end of the day you feel like you brain is practically dead and there are only few hours left in your life for that day to eat, watch tv, read and sleep. You’re even lucky if you can do three. And just when you thought your life is starting to unfold during the weekend, it folded eighty two again on Monday.

So this is adulthood feels like.

I remember when I was 16 I couldn’t wait to grow up and start a career like this. Have my own place to do whatever I want, buy a car and have the freedom to be whereever I want. Earn my own money and buy stuffs that I don’t need. Not so great, really. For some reason it feels like the more you get, a lot more you lose.

I remember one morning I bought my favourite tuna melt panini at this one sandwich shop where I am a regular, and I asked the owner why did he close the Sunday before when he usually doesn’t? And he said that his helper quitted and it was weekend. He wanted to be with his family.

“You know, there’s more to life than just working..” he mumbled between the salad he was cutting and my overpressed panini. It was so true. I mean, how can we start living when all we need in life is money?

Now, that is one justification that I need not to take my work so seriously.

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