Shaliza Mokhtar

The other day I joined an invitation to a friend's house for tahlil and lunch. We made there late because I had an officemate's party before that, so you can imagine everyone had finished eating and naturally I joined the women in the kitchen.

I understand the need for other people to tease the newlyweds, although it has been almost half a year. So they asked how was married life, how was the new house and all the cliche baby questions. And I probably have spilled a bit too much, naively I told them that I'm happier with the new house because I get a seperate wardrobes, where he has his and I have mine. I also excitingly told them how we don't have a washing machine and sometimes Fakhrul helped me with the laundry. 

But oh my God, the look on their faces. I swear one of them almost turned green I thought she was going to vomit. And being sarcastic they are, their replies were like, "You are the first couple I've known all my life who doesn't share her wardrobe with the husband.." I smiled bitterly, confused and probably was as shocked as she was when she learned about my domestic life.  And as I shook their hands, gave them a peck or two on the cheek, I apologized having to leave that early as I had laundry to do. Suddenly I heard another sarcasm saying, "Well, your husband does it, so what?"

Oh I'm telling you, it went straight to the heart.

I was annoyed with the comments, also confused. Which year are they living in anyway? As selfish as it may sounds, I don't think I would marry Fakhrul if he was the kind of man of who sits all day on the sofa, grow his ass on it and if possible, would like his meal to be fed in his mouth. I just don't think that all house chores are automatically women's. And I'm pretty sure neither Fakhrul thinks that. I'm not trying to be all Yasmin Ahmad about it, but women deserves her time too. Marriage is not about men take care of money and women take care of households, but it's more about taking care of each other.

At the end, I failed to contain my feelings and I said, "Well, what can I say? My husband loves me." And then I heard a good 11 seconds mute from the kitchen as I put on my heels and bid my salam.

I think I'm closing up my Fotopages.

Why?

Because I have this other website which I think present my works better.

I don't think it'll be the same with Fotopages. Anywhere else, you won't get the feedback that you were used to. That's what had been keeping you alive.

Maybe that phase is over. Do I still need the feedback?

Well, you ask yourself that.

That's the thing I love about Fakhrul. He always make me think. I guess he doesn't want to get the blame when I regret my decision if he gives me a straight answer.

Well, I have been thinking about shutting it down. It's a photo blog, so I always feel pressurize to update it. Like there's an obligation to put new works, when currently I have none. The only work in my life at the moment is my marriage and architecture. I'd love to include photography, but I just can't pursue it the same way I did. My life's a routine, it's not a drama anymore. I feel dry up, emotionally. I can't take my time anymore. One time I'll come home with photos and it'll be left off for months until I can get back to it. By that time, there are new photos, and then I'm confused on which I should finish first.

I wish I could be disrespectful and put any crap on it and write something to help it look good, when it's just an empty picture, that doesn't tell anything, that doesn't recall any memories, that doesn't have any significance to it, that doesn't speak and bleak.

What is the purpose of photography, if not to capture a memory? Places, people, fleeting moments - they all alter significance as time passes. And now all my photos that once had a meaning get boxed up and pushed to the back of the cupboard or under the bed.

Fotopages is another thing. I feel like people took advantage of its existence and popularity and made it a free billboard for advert of their businesses, and my comments section became the same. I hated it, a place where once respectful artists made their names and acquaintances of same interest has long gone, and what's left seems to me like a mediocre spot for gossip columns and where people sell stuff.

Well good for them. But long enough time passed, I found another place where I can group my works, put a title to it - sort of like my personal best. Recollection of memories, events of my life, places I'd been to and people I made friends with. Every photo made me say, "This is when..." And I love it. Am proud of it.

I think my Fotopages won't be long. I already know what to write on my final entry in it. We'll just wait and see.

 
This entry is long overdue, but you watched Sex & The City yet?

UK got the first look of the much anticipated movie and I remember it was Wednesday when it premiered. My office came fourth in the UK as an architectural practice that employs most women - so you can imagine the fuss that day with who's going at which time slots. Most of them took the intention to dress up a bit than usual, putting on their Louboutins and Blahniks in its honour, I felt like I dropped off from no. 400 bus to Oxford City and landed in Conde Nast building, at Vogue, in NY instead. I, on the other hand had my very buruk and busuk DKNY trainers instead (but by far the most comfortable shoes I'd ever bought in my life), dragged my poor husband to this all-women's world. I drove like a maniac after work trying to catch up 6pm show because  8.30 was totally sold out. I couldn't believe it - the long awaited Lucas/Spielberg's Indiana Jones was out beaten by Carrie & The Gang.

I have to say, I dropped a tear or two at the ending when Big whispered that thing to Carrie's ear. And also when the four got together again, I wished I was somewhere nearer my girls. Is that kind of friendship could ever be possible? Or is that just what they call it what it is - television?

How do you keep in touch without being restricted to move on with your life? When work demands more and God knows, with family and soon there will be kids, how can my friends and I be in touch the way we do now? How do we keep on being so loud, despite being middle-aged, acting like we stopped aging since 17 hits? How do I make sure my friends won't marry a jerk and take them away far from our hometown or lock them up so that we cannot meet the way we usually would? Although while SATC may seem real and typical, I'll just keep an optimistic mind for mine. 

Any of you tasted salt before I did? 

My late grandmother used to sit here every afternoon waiting for Maghrib, and everytime I passed her house I would see her small figure on the swing, gazing out. With her cotton kurung Kedah and whatever few white hair left she had tied up, she raised her wrinkley hand to say she saw me. I sat here with my many cousins when we were kids, plotting our next game when we got together. The swing broke once when me and my cousins got so fat we thought we would never weigh as we were growing up. I sat here with the first boy I fell in love with when I was 13, who was my brother's best friend. My face almost explode from the blush and I almost peed in my pants.My mother sat here with her sisters when they talked about funny things and then laughed so hard loud like that was the last joke on earth they would hear about. I thought they sounded like hyenas.

Too many memories it witnessed. Now it hardly swings.

Are you confused? I know I am.

When my 18-year-olds sister asked me who she should choose when she can vote one day, I just couldn't give her the answer.  As somebody 8 years older, I should be able to. But the truth is, I never really cared about politics during Mahathir's time. Politic was just a subject pakcik and atok talked about in warung but now, I found myself feeding with Malaysian political information in between the elevation drawing I have to draw and and the 3D model rendering in office.

Fakhrul said, we should care this time.

Damn right. It's a bloody circus now, leaving people who are politically naive like me confused and in the dark. I had always thought that politics is something people use to gain self-interest. You can speech on about the people, but at the end of the day, it's always about yourself.  

Whatever it is, I miss Mahathir's time. Sure, he has flaws and imperfection no body can deny. But I know when I first came to UK in '03, all my foreign friends knew who was my Prime Minister. I wasn't home when he resigned so deep down inside, I am still in the state of denial that he's still my Prime Minister. That everything will be OK soon under his hands, our economy is not worse than Thailand or Vietnam, that there will be more development to be proud of, that this current scene is just a nightmare and we'll soon wake up. I might sound bias, but if I have to choose, I'll choose him all over again. I'll choose somebody with a proven record track to run my country. No doubt about it.

This is just a talk from a politically-naive girl. I hope I don't cause a stir.