miss rema erd
i am Hannah (my name's a palindrome).
i am the first daughter of the first daughter of the first daughter.
i love my family deep deep. my favourite red is carmaine.
i also love football, good books, sunsets, grinning babies, poets, photographers, a good intellectual conversation, quirky people, pious bad boys with soft hearts and good minds, happy surprises, the rain, flat shoes, the thought of painting, coffeebean's caramel ice blend, borders (as in the bookstore), bubble tea, and waking up on my own.
/ Ice Skate @ Kallang Leisure Park
/ Rollerblade @ ECP
/ Plan a community service project coming up!
/ Enter a photography contest
/ Jog with Tch Rapiah @ Tamp Stadium coming up!
/ Buy an English translation Qura'an
/ Buy the $100 book on the 4 Imams
/ Take up a new skill @ a CC
/ Paint a picture by Singapore River
/ Play paintball @ SDC
/ Go to the Tree Top @ MacRitchie
/ Learn how to (really) ride a horse
/ Plan an event for my old Madrasah
/
caveat lector
Yay! Aba let me watch the United match yesterday. It has been a while since I've last watched them play. The night before the match, Am called from camp. I forgot that he got in, and it was a pity that we had less than a minute to talk. I can't wait for him to get back and tell his stories! Anyways, I couldn't get to sleep after that. Maybe 'cause I had some sleep that evening. I fell asleep at around 12.45am, and woke up at around 2.30am. The United match was a bore-hore-hore. van Nistelrooy has one or two misses at goal, and stoopid Rooney got red-carded for losing his cool. Tsk. After the match ended, I was still having problems getting to sleep, tossing and turning from 4.35am to 5.50am. I remember hearing the azan for Subuh. When I woke up this morning, I was really having serious stomach cramps. I read somewhere you have to put a hot towel over your lower stomach, heat it up but it didn't work. So even though my stomach was empty, I just took the pink Panadols, rubbed my forehead and eyelids with Vicks and forced myself to sleep, so I wouldn't feel the pain. When I woke up, I was okay again, Alhamdulillah.
Anyways. While I was having a mild case of insomnia this morning, I thought of the origin of the word "apasal". Don't ask me apasal (why), I just thought of it. I concluded that it comes from the words "apa fasal", and I though 'fasal' was an Arabic word, so I looked in up in the qamus but none of the meanings made any sense. I thought it was of Arabic origin because I remember studying Fiqh back in my Secondary School days, and each topic begin with 'al-fasl'. So then I searched for 'fasal' in the Malay dictionary, and bingo, 'fasal' means 'perkara atau tajuk' or 'tentang hal atau mengenai'. So "apa fasal" is like "apa hal". Like, whatsa matter. Yeah. Hooray! Hahah. "Apa fasal?" became "Apa pasal?" became "Apasal?" became "Asal?" became "Sal?". Who knows, next century, "Sal?" will become "L?" *rotfl* Okay, lame-mos.
So then anyways, I thought of Malay words that are of Arabic origin, and I can only think of "kerusi" (chair) which in Arabic is "kuur-siyyi". So then I searched for words that came from different origin, and it was pretty interesting! I selected some here:
English words of Arabic origin:
admiral: amiirul bahr (commander of the sea)
alcohol: al-kahuul (original meaning "eyeshadow", from a root meaning "dark")
cotton: quttn
giraffe: ziraafah
sugar: sakkar
English words of Malay origin:
cockatoo: kakak tua
compound: kampung
dugong: duyung
cooties: kutu
Yeah. That's it.
Toodles!
broke my fall (0)
sapienta
but reading, good company and reflection
must finish him.
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!