* The Rubix Kube *

The Roundabout...

2012-02-07T23:03:00.000+03:00

My Dear Wallabies, I know many of you haven't been waiting a very long time for this post, actually you probably haven't been waiting at all. Well here it is and it's not worth the wait, at all.

I arrived in Saudi Arabia an inconsiderable time ago where I was met by three swarthy burly guys, apparently they were two friends and my brother. Oh well, a hairy welcome.
The cold that I walked into wasn't just freezing, it was mind-numbing. I felt like a blubberless penguin out on the Antarctic plains. I don't want to relate my personal history here (Which is not exactly a page-turner anyway) but long story short, I was under virtual house-arrest for over a week, where I sat huddling in corners and hugging my chilled bones like a deep-frozen turkey.

Alhamdulillah, after some extreme overtime put in by some poor bees and the heater, layers of blankets enough to accelerate global warming and some especially warm epithets from my immediate environment, I came round in as many senses possible and am now very nice and round. The penguin found his blubber.

One thing I had forgotten was how dusty it is here. It is perfectly normal to leave your laptop for a few moments and then come back to find it covered in a sand dune. Of course in Malaysia you might find a tree sprouting out of the USB port so there you go.

I hadn't realised this but life in Saudi Arabia really does toughen you up, and I mean in a positive way. I don't know if it's the extreme weather or the burly friends or everything else but it really does. Four months in Malaysia had left me feeling rather soggy round the edges.

That in part may be due to the astronomical amount of oil one consumes over there. Honestly, after eating lunch it may just be possible to turn yourself on by inserting a car key into your ear and turning it forward sharply. Like seriously, in Malaysia you drink oil like nobody's business. I believe I am an expert chef now in Malaysian cuisine, you simply get rice and drown it in oil, then get fried chicken and insert it in a bottle of oil, then you get your veggies and pour a whole bucket of oil down it, turning it into oil soup, all served with an oil dip.

As a budding (possible) economist I've had this astounding brainwave. I have discovered Malaysia's biggest natural resource. People. People must be brimming with oil due to the colossal amount of oil they consume in their diet. I suggest a fair valuation of one person = one barrel of oil, which at current market prices is over $100 an individual. I still have not worked out any reliable method to extract the oil from individuals but at least we have a very oily foundation. I forecast a plummet in petrol prices worldwide due to this sudden excess supply of oil, in addition to Malaysia not only entering but completely dominating the OPEC members organisation.

Alhamdulillah it's such a blessing to be home, I've embarked on a mini health drive since my dietary consumption of oil in Malaysia almost rivalled the combined producing capabilities of the Gulf countries. As part of my committed efforts I purchased a vegetable steamer then proceeded to steam myself like one. The second phase involved me gorging myself at every single possible store and restaurant in Riyadh to ensure that I don't miss good food too much when I go back InshAllah. Right.

Steaming ahead...

My sincere advice to anyone who wants to leave home: Don't leave home. Based on the principle of 'ignore one advice and get a dozen free' I shall assume that you have ignored my first advice and therefore are eligible for the next dozen.
When you leave home (TEMPORARILY) don't pack any clothes with you, just food you're gonna miss. Pack Fairy liquid if you're going to Malaysia and baked beans if you're off to Bangor.

The first thing you do when you arrive at your respective destination is to go to a very nice restaurant, you need this to relax. After that go to a very nice cafe to wash all the food down then go on a shopping spree that'll last you the next decade. If you're a boy you need to buy a washing machine and dryer, a big fridge, lots of deodorant and a dishwasher. Bawl your eyes out for about a month and then bully all the freshers, after which barely pass your exams then catch the next flight home. Give your parents a big hug. Life goes on.

A gift from my parents. Alhamdulillah, I had been stalking this guy for ages.

Before I end this ramble I'd like to just squeeze in a very sorry looking apology to my dear friend Typewriter, also known as Ahmad Samir. I'm sorry for ditching you and I promise that it might happen again in the future, I'll try anyway. But I was sick, I really was.

That's all for now Ladies and Gentlemen
Apparently the world decided to remember Charles Dickens this week
I decided to show the world just how far we've come
Love
Ashworth

Home.

2012-01-24T23:11:00.000+03:00

Assalamu Alaikum Dear Readers.

The joy of finishing exams is quite something, trust me, especially if you're flying home the next day. Alhamdulillah for everything.

Anypath, I came home to a very clogged up airport teaming with human life in all forms. People were queuing and sitting and huddling and sleeping and pushing and barging and giving up and just about trickling through. Alhamdulillah Allah made everything easy and I was out before my three burly Hairy hoods knew it.

I came home to home and there's nothing else I can possibly say. Alhamdulillah for all his blessings and I just wanted to let you know that.

Love

Ashworth

Your Day will come.

2012-01-14T17:59:00.000+03:00

Death will come, the day you die will come. There's no use trying to run away from death. Don't spend your whole life trying to dodge death, death will catch you one day. But try to be ready for that day you die, prepare for it by fearing Allah and doing good deeds, and abstaining from what Allah forbade you from doing.

((وَاتَّقُوا يَوْمًا تُرْجَعُونَ فِيهِ إِلَى اللَّهِ ۖ ثُمَّ تُوَفَّىٰ كُلُّ نَفْسٍ مَّا كَسَبَتْ وَهُمْ لَا يُظْلَمُونَ))
((And fear a Day when you will be returned to Allah. Then every soul will be compensated for what it earned, and they will not be treated unjustly)). - Al-Baqarah(281).

May Allah give us the best of endings and Jannutul Firdaws Al-A3la.

Allah's Mercy..

2012-01-11T05:06:00.001+03:00

The Mercy Allah has put in this Mother's heart...

A Wounded Sabre (formerly Saber)...

2012-01-09T07:40:00.002+03:00

My Dearest Mummy, this comes from too much Love.

Another one?...Please?

2012-01-07T10:33:00.000+03:00

If I'm ever gonna marry a Lady, I've only got one question for her. ONE QUESTION she cannot get wrong.

All in the Heart...

2011-12-27T19:43:00.001+03:00

Assalamu Alaikum

Dear readers, we all had goals. And we all have goals. There comes a point in life where you realise that some of your goals you will just never achieve. Personally, I don't think I will ever become a world-class football player. Back in my time - which was never, really - I thought I was legendary. One of my goals back then was an own goal, wait, actually many were. But I took football seriously, I always wanted to be the best and I always tried to be the best. As I progressed through life however, it kinda dawned on me that I'll probably never make it. And so now I play football for fun, which is another way to tell my brothers that I'll probably be quite rubbish at football next time we meet InshAllah.

Joking aside, I've realised one thing, that intending every action for Allah SWT's sake is the best and only way to do things. Because you see, if you intend an action for Allah's sake, you will still end up doing the exact same action but now you will get rewarded for it InshAllah. How easy is that?

When you play football, make the intention that you want to become fit and strong, so that you can serve the Ummah. If you're playing with a non-Muslim, make the intention that by playing with him you can hopefully bring him closer to Islam. If you're reading a book, make the intention that you want to improve your English so that you can become a good Da'iah (preacher). When you eat or sleep, make the intention that it will give you the strength to worship Allah, even when you dress smart, make the intention that you want to give Islam a good image.

And the best one of them all, which is also my personal favourite: when you have exams round the corner, study to make your parents happy, because parents get especially happy when you do well in your exams, and pleasing your parents is one of the greatest ways to please Allah SWT.
For me this one's a scintillatingly important one, because I actually hate studying. So now whenever I study I just keep imagining myself drawing a smile on my parents faces, one chapter at a time. It's the only thing keeping me going right now, but it's more than enough.

Love
Ashworth

Memories..

2011-12-22T13:32:00.002+03:00

Yeah Boy..Those were the days.

Of Love & Jealousy..

2011-12-21T19:16:00.002+03:00

If it don't make you run like a dog and work like a slave, and fight like a man and cry like a woman, it ain't love.
Love humiliates, degrades, causes irrationality and insanity. Permanently.
Love takes a woman low, but takes a man much lower.
To love without reason is common, for a reason rare, and with reason almost never.
If it don't make your blood boil and your fist clench, and your jaw clamp and your heart stop, it ain't jealousy.
A jealous woman can be dangerous, a jealous man is fatal.
Jealousy between the fair sex is their modus operandi, jealousy over the fair sex is WWIII.

2011-12-19T17:11:00.000+03:00

Mummy & Daddy. I Love you.

Langkawi. Through a Pinhole.

2011-12-08T04:13:00.000+03:00

Assalamu Alaikum Dear Readers. Langkawi was very picturesque and stunningly beautiful MashAllah. I didn't take many pictures...Yes, I was too busy having a good time. There aren't many photos of me either, not like I make a very interesting subject. If you are desperate however you can stalk my tagged photos on Facebook, look for the Hairy Guy.

And yup, I'm not in a very affable manner today so that's all you're gonna see here.

Love
Salams

What University Teaches..

2011-12-06T07:37:00.000+03:00

Dear Yo's, which is plural for Yo, how y'all doin today. At university you learn a lot of things, some of which you learn and some of which you are learnd. At university you learn not only how to ditch classes, but when to ditch them. If that means that you ditch them all the time then great. You learn how to interact with all sorts of people, you learn how to ignore them, avoid them, or if it gets very bad, flatten them. You learn how to play football with people who don't know how to play football, so that you ending up learning how to play not football. You learn that you can't trust people as much as you like, and that in most cases you can never rely on them. You learn that the world doesn't revolve around you, except in extreme cases, and that when it does you end up revolving around yourself too. You learn that ladies have magical powers of persuasion, and that you have to give yourself a full twenty-four hours to make a rational decision after receiving advice from a lady. You confirm what you already knew, that last-minute studying is the only way it can be done, and you fully realise that dreams are only dreams, and that they stay dreams so long as you don't try achieving them, after which they represent failures. You learn to be independent, a great argument to justify failing your exams, finishing your budget half way through the month and growing fat. You learn all this and much more. Come here and I'll teach you.

Squaring a Circle...

2011-11-14T18:38:00.001+03:00

Dear Survivors, welcome back to The Rubix Cube where nothing has happened lately.

I was actually planning to write a heart-wrenching article today that would most certainly make me cry should I have re-read it, however, it occurred to me that my twin is having it much worse than I am and he's all chirpy, so it wouldn't look too good if I started bawling my eyes out, especially in the PR department. So that one was settled.

Anyhow, I embarked on a save-every-penny-at-no-cost-whatsoever crusade recently, due especially to the economic straits I found myself bottle-necking down with no bank account in sight, due especially to some very well applied mathematics and some excellent banking.
Upholding the theme very well, and indeed propelling it forward to hitherto unscaled heights was lunch today, which must have been extracted from a buffalo slaughtered after death. Because it occurred to me while professionally wrestling with it that the chewing-gum industry was definitely missing a flavour.

Today I received a very breathtaking broadside when I was made to deduce that I was growing up a wild lowly tramp in the dampening town of Semenyih while my twin educated himself very poshly in no less than the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
Of course when my twin reads this he will probably try to use some Saudi Arabic and street slang next time we Skype to try to make me feel more at home. Please make no such attempt Isa as it will appear very fake since we'll understand each other anyway.

Some days I just want to go home, I'm just fed-up of this life, of everyone and everything. But then some day I need to earn my own bread, and look after my parents and my brothers and sisters too, so I just keep going. Every day I never want to leave home, but some days I think of marriage. It's funny because the other day I got into one of my moods and I was on the verge of phoning my Mum and asking her to find me a wife. Days like that you just gotta bite your lips and grind your teeth and keep looking down. All the way down Boy.

This post was supposed to be about my trip to Langkawi Islands but unfortunately I've reached the word limit after which a post becomes very boring, not to mention the fact that I've steered most firmly into six other topics at least.

As Isa would say, this was written and posted late in the night after a stressful day.
Take it as a teaser and Langkawi's up next InshAllah.
Do take care
Love
Ashworth

P.S. Please don't take that chapter on marriage too seriously, if you do then you can propose.

Snapshots..

2011-11-01T18:22:00.000+03:00

When clothes don't dry...

When you want to fly...

When you stare at the sky...

And when you really can't fly...

Death

2011-10-25T04:07:00.000+03:00

Dear All. Death comes without asking. Death comes when you don't expect it. You and I and us all can die at any moment. Don't wait till you're old, don't say tomorrow. Worship your Lord, Allah, every moment of your day and night so that when death comes you are prepared. Life is too short to sin. How long will you live? 50 years? 60 years? Then what? Then it's forever, eternity in Paradise or Hell. It's not worth sinning, it's really not worth it.

Walk along the street and imagine your grave just by the roadside. Imagine you lying there all alone while life passes by. No cares about you any more, no one remembers you. Everything in your world has left you. Your family has forgotten you, or they might have died too. You are left alone with your deeds, and Allah will judge you accordingly.

Coming of Age...

2011-10-14T17:44:00.001+03:00

Dear Readers, Coming of Age is not a very nice thing to do or a very enviable thing to be done, depending on no perspective whatsoever. When I was young if all else failed I always had that excuse that trumped all accusations of under-achievement. I was Young.

I was Young. I was younger than that guy who sailed the world, I was younger than that chap who invented the internet. I was younger than that crazy football prodigy, I was younger than anyone who had achieved anything significant in life, therefore it was an unfair comparison. Give me time, if I was their age who said I wouldn't have achieved what they achieved, who said I won't achieve what they achieved when I reach their age. I'm younger than them, that's all.

My Dear Readers, that excuse is now invalid, and that is reason for reflection. I now read on the internet about a Premier League footballer who is 19 years old, I read about this wildly successful entrepreneur who's 18 years old. I read about a lad who's scaled the heights and achieved the impossible, this Olympic diver and that Business genius...I read and I read, and as I read it dawns on me that these are people who are as old as I am, who have lived the same years as I have, but who have achieved what I have not achieved.

It is very depressing but depression never done anyone any good. I hope this spurs me on. Don't please think that I take these characters as role models, I just use them as benchmarks against which something or another.....

I am very Tired.

Love Dove Fell in a Hole

The Hole was quite deep

Ashworth

The Art of Keeping Silent...

2011-10-07T07:12:00.001+03:00

Dear Hedgehogs, Porcupines if you prefer, welcome back to the Rubix Kube. Readers will think I have embarked on an unprovoked tirade against the Malaysian people, they might sue me for assault, battery, defamation and telling the truth, but that's besides the point.

Malaysians don't. participate. in. the. classroom. Full stop with no side dishes. It is so depressing how absolutely no one talks. I am told it is due to the breathtaking (tongue-swallowing jaw-clamping) Malaysian education system but I can't be too sure. Whatever it is the class is as silent as death, I swear the teacher will ask question after question after question and not a single living soul will answer. And it's funny because the teacher actually looks quite surprised when I blurt out something, as if I had committed some unheard of felony.

We have about fifty students in class and the teacher asks: 'mention one expense a business may incur'. Brain-teaser that one, Tough question.
Silence.
'Okay, anyone?'
Silence.
'Okayyy, errrm...like anyone?'
Goofy smiles making the rounds.
"Errrm Ohhkayyy....someonnne Helllllloooo...?'
'Hello there...anyyyoonnne?'
Evidently not.
'Muhammad?'...(Quickly snatches friend's notes): 'Yeah errm...' - Rolls out answers like a production line.
Next question......................................................'Muhammad?'
(lecture notes partially peep out of bag).
Next one....................................................'Muhammad?'
(lecture notes fully out of bag).
Next one..............................................'Ashworth?'
(lecture notes disguised as notebook).
Next questio........................................Teacher stops asking, Muhammad picks up lecture notes and just reads out the whole thing. Lecture over.
Muhammad made to look very intelligent.
Muhammad feeling very depressed, goes to Library and goes on a tirade against Malaysian citizens, home or abroad.

Seriously Guys, there is nothing wrong in answering. Participate in class, if you have something to say, say it. If you have a question to ask, ask it. If you know the answer, answer. If you think you know the answer, then how about finding out if you are right?
You don't look smart by just sitting quiet in class and trying to stare the teacher out of countenance so she doesn't ask you any questions. You don't look intelligent when you try to fake that condescending pitying look and nod with imaginary approval every time someone answers. You don't look like a particularly knowledgeable scholar either when you sit their smiling goofily throughout class and then bolt out the door at the first sign of an impending question.

Because this is seriously depressing. In the beginning I felt very intelligent. Then I felt exceptionally educated. Then I felt like a genius. Then I felt like the University Dean. Then I felt stupid. Because no one tries to beat you to the answer, no one challenges you when you answer, and everyone claps in unison after you answer, especially if it's wrong.

Love
Ashworth

The Art of Sloppy Dressing

2011-09-27T10:42:00.000+03:00

My Dear Bumblebees, since I am feeling threatened by a resurgent blog going by the name of The Oak Tree, in which the author skilfully demonstrates the art of baffling photography, I am hitting back with an article of my own.

The Art of Sloppy Dressing was perfected in this region many aeons ago. I don't know if it's due to the very extremely completely unbelievably humid climate, or due to the locals possessing significantly more sense than the rest of the world, or something or another, but anyway, it is striking (in every sense of the word) how sloppy everyone here dresses. And if you're wondering whether it is catching, Don't, because it is contagiously infectous to the last degree.

You see, before I left home, (which is a phrase intended to communicate my grown-up state), I used to dress up ever so smartly. All my clothes matched, all my clothes were ironed, all my socks matched, all my shoes matched, everything was nice and crisp and everything matched. Not quite but they didn't call me Uncle for nothing.

After I left my bedroom (reinforcing my grown-upness) and went to Uni, I found that no one at Uni dressed up. Wait, scratch that. No one in Malaysia dressed up, At All. Of course when no one dresses up it makes your life so much easier, because now you don't have to dress up either. Not only that, but I also found that with the weather being as humid as it is, the loosest fitting clothes were the most comfortable, of course this entailed sloppiness but so what. Socks were off, shoes were off, collars were off, denim and thick trousers were off, two layers was off, yeah...kind of most things were off and whatever was left was well, left.

To the rest of the world it may appear trampy but trust me, slogging in this smothering humid heat doesn't leave you with too much choice.

Anything goes slipshod flip flop rag a tag ruffian tramp.
Love
Ashworth

When the twins left home...

2011-09-20T08:18:00.000+03:00

Yes I did cry when you left. I cried when I got home and saw your empty bed.

I cried a lot that night.

I don't know if you cried when I left but I bet you did.

Have you ever thought...

2011-09-09T22:03:00.001+03:00

Have you ever thought about those random guys on the street you see everyday? Have you ever thought about that person you were rude to, and impolite to, and impatient with? Have you thought that just like you, that man is a husband and a father, that boy is a brother and a son, that girl is a sister and a daughter, and that Lady is a wife and a mother? and that just like you, their mom's and dad's and brother's and sister's love them dearly, and wouldn't want to see someone treat them like that?

Have you ever thought about that cleaner in the street, and the taxi driver, and the sweeper and the maid, have you ever imagined your dad in that place, and your mum in that place, and then been filled with sorrow to know that these people are people just like you, that they are dads and mums and brothers and sisters, with families who care for them, and love them dearly, and that it gals them to the heart to see their loves ones so. Have you ever thought?

Have you ever thought about that old lady and that senile man? When you looked at them in disgust or felt ashamed to be seen in their company? Didn't you ever think that one day they were just as young and strong and healthy and happy as you? Do you ever think about that crippled boy and that disfigured girl? They used to be as happy and young and strong and handsome as any of you - till that horrible accident that is. Don't you feel sorry for all these people to see what has happened to them over time? Do you think they like asking for your help? They hate asking you more than you hate being asked, trust me.

Haven't you ever thought that behind every person you meet and every face you see there is an anxious loving family who care for that person, who would hate to see any one be rude to that person, who love that person dearly? And have you ever thought that by disrespecting that person you hurt all his loving family in turn?

Do you like to see your Mum insulted? your Dad put down? Your Brother and Sister laughed at?
Treat every lady as you like your Mum to be treated. Because she is also a Mum.
Treat every man as you like your Dad to be treated. Because he is also a Dad.
Treat every boy as you like your brother to be treated. Because he is also a brother.
And treat every girl as you like your Sister to be treated. Because she is also a sister.

Good Manners are part of being a Muslim.

And Peace.
Salams.

The day we Bashed a Turkey..

2011-09-02T07:11:00.001+03:00

Shoulder Broad...

Besides a reg'ular chicken. Hey Big Brother.

Mr Painter...

2011-08-25T03:26:00.001+03:00

Dear Readers, some people go to the Maldives for Holidays, some go to Switzerland, some go on a Safari, some come home in wrong-fitting clothes to paint houses and measure sofas and take maths tuition, it's a very flexible situation. Myself of course fitting very neatly into the last category, you can now guess why I haven't been blogging at all.

The truth is I was hoping to spend a very peaceful quiet holiday with my family, just unwinding from the traumatising effects of my first semester at Uni. What I hadn't taken into account was a sudden fanatical incomprehensible feminine-driven campaign to revamp the house. The fact that I was on holiday made absolutely not a shred of difference.
Anyhow I was swept by the current and then under the current, and then got immersed and drowned in the current, and I'm currently trying to recover from the shocking aftermath of that feminine current.

What I've been trying to say all this time is that we've been frantically trying to camouflage our house for Eid, so that people who come in at the front door won't know the difference until they walk upstairs, where we ambush them with the brightest living-room I have seen for a very very long time.

Here are some pictures.

Striping the wall with duct tape.

Yeah. Still striping...

RedBlankRedBlank....

A curious cat...

Ahoy! All hands to deck.

Looking suspiciously like a bed-sheet...

Orange might help...

End product.

And so my dear readers, that is how over the course of the week we transformed our living-room's obnoxious (half) pink walls into a cascade of colours quite serious about its job.

That is the end of this avalanche of a story, my dear Cupcakes.

Please retire gracefully.

I'm trying.

Love

Ashworth

A Funny World...

2011-08-16T17:59:00.000+03:00

It's funny how when you're fat people say lose weight
And when you lose weight people say you're way too skinny!

It's funny how when you dress up all smart people ask who's wedding?
And when you dress all shabby people say ain't he shabby!

It's funny how no one sees the good that you did
They always see the good that wasn't done.

It's funny how when you play so hard Go and Study!
And when you study so hard what a killjoy!

It's funny how you're smart in so many ways just that people don't know
And in the mirror you're such a beauty though no one sees so.

It's funny how this world works but oh well
This world is funny.

On the way Home...

2011-08-04T12:10:00.001+03:00

My Dear teary dreary bleary-eyed readers, welcome back once again to this drowning blog of sorts. This week I have been recovering from a most enviable adventure, my adventure consisting of sitting down and waiting, and then sitting down and waiting, and then sitting down and waiting some more.

You see some days ago I happened to be in Kuala Lumpur, I also happened to be rushing around like a tail-less lizard trying to pack for my trip back to Saudi. Having packed all kinds of things that oughtn't be packed, and forgot overything that ought to be remembered, and bought lots of cheap gifts that ought to have been expensive, and in general made as complete a hashbrown of myself as was possible, I was set to go.

Kwala lumpoor Yo.

I left KL at very crazy hour in the morning and arrived at Dubai airport at an even crazier hour in the morning. Not being put off however, I proceeded to finish my money as quickly as possible (which wasn't very hard) and then dozed off like an exhausted Zombie.

Anyhow, some time later, I pretended to wake up having pretended to have a comfortable sleep, much to no-one's envy, and then proceeded to the check-in counter an hour early (so I thought) just to be on the safe side. When I got there it said GATE CLOSED, I thought 'yeah, they'll open it soon'. Being still zombie-ish, I sat there staring at the the stewerd who was excercising his poor lungs screaming out 'RIYADH! RIYADH!'.

Errrrmm...long story short, the stewerd told me some five minutes later (with a most shocked countenence) that I had missed my flight to Saudi.
Recieving this reviving piece of information with an even more shocked countenence, not to mention a completely goofish look - much to the delight of bystanders - I fled the scene as respectably as possible, and then crumbled immediately into a sobbing moaning heap of a fresh-university-student-home-on-his-first-visit.

My Dad wasn't too impressed by my antics either, having betook himself to the Supermarket to prepare me a scrulumptious welcoming breakfast.

To repair matters I rushed around more headless than before, and then rushed around still more healdess, and then tried to book myself on the next flight, and then on the next flight, and then on all the flights, all of which happened to be fully booked up for at least the next four days, which just wouldn't do, and so I moaned and waited and moaned, and finally ran away from the airport SIXTEEN hours later.

On the waiting list for the next flight...

Errrm...Still waiting...

Nothing doing...

Five in the morning till Nine at night. Ignore my hairy hand.

My parents back home had managed to somewhow dispatch a rescue team to me in the shape of some old family friends, whom Al7amdulillah watered my overheating engine, placated my growling belly, covered my bare head, and generally beefed up my monetary reserves as to offset further attacks by any and all manners of mercenaries whom were out there no doubt to get me.

Next morning I booked a coach back to Riyadh, by way of variety and sampling, especially since I had no other choice. While waiting, I was taken on a tour of the city of Dubai, a city of figures without substance. Still, it was a treat Al7amdulillah.

The world's biggest Mall. Apparently.

Inside the Mall, The world's largest indoor aquarium. Apparently.

A massive ice-skating rink INSIDE the mall.

The Gold Market. We're still inside Boy.

Hmmm..That's the world's tallest building. Unfortunately it was so tall one of us had to make way.

I then hopped on the coach, which according to local custom took us on a sightseeing tour of the desert and its many beauties, by which I mean it managed to get itself late and delayed, and lost and stuck, and roundly hated and insulted. Still, I finally docked in my beloved city of Riyadh EIGHTEEN hours later. TWO FULL DAYS LATE. Al7amdulillah.

The Cooaaach that took uss EIGHTEEENN houurrsss.

The luxuriously beautiful coach from inside.

Weary traveller...

So as you must have by now deduced, missing your flight is not a very good thing to do, nor enjoyable, especially if you fail to resemble Ibn Battuta in perhaps more than one aspect. This article has been plain and boring and most run-of-the-mill and has not been spell-checked.. The mood today has just not struck me.

Please do take care
Love
Ashworth

The land of Robots...

2011-07-25T14:50:00.001+03:00

Dear Readers
Patience is a virtue. I have just arrived from --------- where I hitch-hiked along the public transport system and zigzagged across its spidery networks. I was pulling along my Mum's wheelie briefcase in the middle of rush-hour. A telling sign of Genius. My wheelie decided that many people's toes quite resembled the tiles they stood upon or should resemble the tiles they stood upon, my wheelie flattened many people's toes, leaving in it's wake a pop-corning public, all jumping in-turn as my wheelie minced their toes. It was hilarious, I assumed the role of an interested bystander watching the wheelie perform it's tricks, I was the subject of a wild variety of ouching and ooohing and aaahing and magnanimously disappointed tongue-clucking, calculated no doubt to awaken in my breast the utmost feelings of sympathy for the victims and shame for my actions, accompanied by equally magnanimous stares of contempt supposed to cause one to hang his head in a forlorn state of utter distress.

--------- is a beautiful country, it is so systematic and orderly, its organisation is such that there is a procedure for everything, EVERYTHING. Strong or weak, rich or poor, able or disable, there rules which you must follow, you will follow, and shall follow. It's beautiful isn't it? This equality that decides that one-size-fits-all. Look around you, everyone conforms, everyone obeys, not unlike robots. Nobody asks. Beautiful isn't it? Life flows so smoothly. Ask that lame man, ask that weak beggar, ask that old lady, they all walk as fast everybody else and in the same direction, they carry their weight as much as everyone and earn their own bread. Society is robotised, society is stiff and rigid, society is unforgiving of the week and needy and old, society has rules and society must follow these rules. Nobody asks where the rules came from. Society lends a helping hand by pushing you along or dragging you along in the flow, if you cannot keep up you shall fall and be trampled upon. Society doesn't look right or left or up or down, or pause to breath or think. Straight ahead the road lies, straight ahead we look, straight ahead we ~~are~~ march(~~ed)~~.

They even got it on video-tape if you want it. Schools, roads, buses, trains, pavements, lifts, shops, toilets; life, they've got it all on tape. That's how much --------- cares about you, it watches you 24/7, down the street and up the street, right, left and centre. You might not know it but --------- loves you. Ask those watching eyes, ask those cameras, they'll tell you. Mind, you don't have to go far, just look up; the benefits of convenience.

And I didn't write this just because I'm in Malaysia

Love
Ashworth

All Ladies are Economists..

2011-07-21T07:50:00.001+03:00

Dear Fella Chaps, Chaperons, Chefs, Chauffeurs and Chandeliers, nice to not see you again. Dear Readers, I have made a ground-breaking discovery, I have formulated a Whoppalumping theory, I have come to the trumpeting conclusion that all Ladies are born Economists.
As you all know, or should know, or anyhow do now know {[(Deja Vu)Deja Vu]All Squared}, I am the embodiment of an Economics fan. Okay, not quite so but I quite like Economics. Quite. Being so, I know how Economists think. Your average Economist does not think like your average Johnny. Your average Economist evaluates everything he sets eyes, ears, nose, mouth, heart or mind upon, he then reaches a conclusion which he will evaluate, after which he will evaluate the conclusion of his conclusion, and then he will conclude that 'it depends', which is most curious indeed.

Returning to my Ground-breaking discovery, I discovered the reason why ALL Ladies shop for so long, and take ever so long to choose anything. It's because they're born Economists.

A Lady shopping for shoes..

'These shoes are so pretty! Ooooohhh, they even have a wonderful pattern carved into the sole under the heel..somewhere *starts melting directly..
Hmmm....BUT they won't match that hairband that I have which is colour Black. These look Black but they're actually not as Black as my hairband. Actually it depends...*walks off'...

{Husband knows what's coming}..

'Aaaaahhhh what about this pair they're gorgeous!! Ooooaoaaaahhhh sooo pretttttyyyy just the thing I wanted since I was a baby and they fit soo nice too.
Errrrr....NO I don't think so, they're SSOOo last year and I have a pair anyway which bears a 29.6% resemblance to this one and look, the ribbon on it is just a biiiitttt too thick. It depends on whom I visit'...*moves on

{Husband passing into state of Delirium}...

'Hhaaaa! Whhaaaaaoooo! just the shoes for my purple Sash! And they fit too, and they're just the right shiny-ness and tone and colour and saturation Oooooohh BUT they don't have a pattern on them which is a pity and my friend's friend's cousin's daughter has them anyway. It depends though'...*Ambles off

{Husband begins somersaulting rapidly}...

'Aaaaahhh, now THIS is what I was looking for. These orange shoes are kinda jazzy and funky and young. WOW..okay okay No no wait I don't wanna look like a Duck. Except. EXCEPT, it depends you know...*storms off'

{Husband contemplating whereabouts of nearest psychiatric centre}..

'Whhoooooooh, that's more like it! These shoes are jusssst RIGHT (mental checklist of twenty-six criteria:
- Match earrings?
-Match hairband?
- Match new skin tan?
- Match new hair colour?
- My friends haven't seen me in anything like it?
.....SALESMAN!!: A pair a biittt darker? NO. A biittt lighter? NO. A bitt...
Anyway they still don't match my new nail polish....
It depends who sees me in them actually..*continues grazing'.

{Husband faints twice in quick succession...

{Husband safely (it depends) in Ambulance}...

Poor Guy.

Significant Others..

2011-07-12T10:50:00.000+03:00

Dear Bloggers, studies are most consuming, pride is most demanding, modest Ladies are the most beautiful, and excuses don't get any worse.

Despite my nickname at university being 'Whiteboy' for some obscure reason, my coming here to Nottingham University has been a revelation. and I'm not referring to imaginary Mathmetical genius here, that was established long ago.
It's been a revelation in the sense that I have begun identifying with my other side much more (not a wife, I swear).

You see, in case you didn't know, I happen to be half British......and half Malay. Back in Saudi, I mostly identified with my British side; I guess it was a survival tactic (vicious clearing of throat), I never really thought about my Malay half. If someone asked me: I was 'British'. 'But you look Malay?'. 'Shutup, I'm British'.

That's how life went, in a region where race was a race - whatever that means - being British was simply the Ace that trumped all cards. However, having now come to Malaysia, and blended in most chameleon-like with it's Aborigines, having a Red Passport counts for much less.

It's not that I'm denouncing my 'Britishness' or anything, but I just identify with Malays much more now. I don't look at Malays as a completely foreign set of people (ANYMORE), with a totally different culture and habitat and reeds and set of Marshes. There's a lost connection there somewhere between my other half and my other half which my other half is trying to find.

I love the fact that Malaysia is a relatively unracist country compared to some other places I've been to. Maybe that's just because I look a bit Malay or maybe it's because I don't look British.
Or perhaps it's because I'm actually quarter British quarter Irish quarter Malay quarter Arab.

I had to say that didn't I..

Uniwersi'y...

2011-06-19T06:28:00.000+03:00

Dear Cosmopolitan Ladies and Gentlemen. I know it's been a long time. It's been longer.

Okay that didn't make any sense. Anypaths, As I am well aware, you just all can't wait to see my University, right? RIGHT? Okay, let me rephrase that. I can't wait to show you my University. That's better.

In accordance, this morning I went on a cycling-photography tour of campus which took all of five minutes, possibly six. Our extensive campus compared to the more affluent Universities' campuses, by way of analogy, is as a butter-knife is compared to a guillotine.

Anyhow I am most visibly tired right now so I'll just leave you in the company of the pictures and some award-winning essays which are actually captions.

Accomodation Halls. Broga Hills as a backdrop.

More accomodation Halls. Coniferish tree as a frontdrop.

Islamic Society and Mosque.

Two so-not award-winning shots of the lake and encircling jogging track.

Student Association building. Why am I showing you this?

If you look really hard you might notice that this is a pedestrian roundabout with a fountain in the middle that isn't on and colour-coded schools and faculties and teaching blocks located symmetrically around this venerable roundabaout's perimeter and beyond. Uhhuuaaaa'. Phew.

Faculty of Business and Economics.

One of the many beatiful inner courtyards that dot our University. No wait, actually the only one.

One of the Teaching Blocks.

The University of Nottingham, Malaysia Campus, Jalan Broga, Semenyih Town, Selangor, Malaysia, Far-East Asia, Asia...(Rapidly deteriorating sense of humour ALERT).

Besides wasting my time cycling around campus and pretending to study, I've been engaging in some Fabric-Painting. I recently invested in two shirts and a collection of paintbrushes not to be trifled with. These are the preliminary findings.

This is the story so far, hopefully this shirt will be a stumper once I'm done InshAllah.

And these are some pictures of my tidy room for those of you interested. By the bye, that picture above where I was standing; yeah I was actually ~~running away~~ chasing a colossal cockaroach that had the temerity to enter my room. This picture is for my Mum ONLY. Every one else look away.

That would be that Dear whoever's-still-there readers of this blog. Anyone there? Anyone??? ANYONE???

Okay, I didn't even hear an echo, that seals it.

Enjoy your home food everybody. For my sake.

Love

Ashworth

Hackin' Away...

2011-06-19T05:48:00.000+03:00

Dear Readers

My laptop crashed last week. Long story short, I had to format it. Unfortunately, the bloke as what fixed it overlooked some very minor problems, such as wirless internet and blutooth, and the Original Windows OS, with the consequence that I am now feeling like a dangerously successful hacker.

The interface of a successful hacker's PC. 1981.

A Nation of Fryers...

2011-06-19T05:36:00.000+03:00

Dear Readers

I miss home food a lot, I miss home food especially more than a lot because I am living in Malaysia, a Nation of Fryers. I have to this day never been able to work out Malaysians' obsession with frying stuff, every single edible thing here has to be fried, it is practically impossible to enjoy a meal that wasn't either fried or drowned in oil. Or both. Their motto here seems to be 'When in doubt, fry'.

You can get fried rice, fried bananas, fried chicken, fried fish, fried beef, fried noodles, even fried toast (this is seriously NOT a joke, they FRY their toast). And it's not even like you're given an option, there is NOTHING that is not fried, you name it, they'll fry it.

I think I've gone a stretch of about two months now in-which I've been eating nothing but oily fried stuff, and it is completely depressing. Honestly, I've toured the whole of Malaysia looking for local food (nothing to do with price) that is not oily and fried and shiny as a mirror. Mission Impossible.
I want my home food *starts to cry* :(

Fry me once, shame on you. Fry me twice, that's much better.
There's no harm in frying
keep frying

Deep-fried Love
Ashworth

Expletives...

2011-06-06T14:38:00.000+03:00

Dear Ponderous and As-Yet-Pondering Readers. Dear Pompous Political-Activists, Plump Party-Officials, Ladies-in-Purple, Gentlemen-with-Proper-accents, and all things beginning with P. Welcome.

One of the most hilarious aspects of the Local Language is the use of Expletives. When I say Local Language here I am of-course referring to the language used by the Locals (Singlish: Singapore English, and Manglish: Mandarin English). Singlish and Manglish are hilarious because they're basically English, spiced up then deep-fried in the Local tongues. Below I'm going to attempt to construct a Gibberish conversation speaking Singlish/Manglish just to demonstrate. Spelling is going to be Horrible.

'Ellooo Boy, wad you been doin ah?'
> 'Nutting waaa, jus do some homewok den allready dun waaa'
'So you comin class today or whaaa?'
> 'No maa, come class den do wha' aaah?'
'Aloor, come have fun meh'
> 'Elleh, aiyooo, adoooy, ish, alaaa haiyoo kay I come arready'
'Foyyooo, like so lazy maah'
> 'Haeeish, you ttalk ttalk so much you know..den do nutting arready waaaaaaaaaaaaaa'
'where got laa, me got upset arready den donn ttalk. Go maaaa'..

'Guy Goes and crashes in Bee Hive...' End of Story.

Tioman Islands...

2011-06-01T17:14:00.000+03:00

Dear lethargic arm-chaired article-hungry blog-trawling mass and significant other(s), Welcome back once again to my very busy life.
This week I went on an escapade to Tioman Islands, where I gatecrashed my Uncle's private holiday (at his wallet's expense).
Tioman Islands is???/ are??? somewhere Three O'Clock of mainland Malaysia. We were ferried there in about two hours and upon arrival I immediately dragged my cousin out on a most lengthy and sweaty treasure hunt for a pair of slippers.
Besides such relevant information, we spent a most beautiful time island-hopping and snorkeling, we swam amongst breathtakingly stumping coral and mixed our lot with the fish all day long. The air was fresh, the horizon was green and the water, the water was the crystal-clearest iciest Bluest coolest water I've seen in my life, and coming from the Desert, I'm your man when it comes these things, honestly, trust me, ehm...

The next morning we chilled it out (literally) on the shore. My cousin and I and my two other cousins (without I) spent a lovely time Kayaking along the shore-line. It was the biggest swimming pool I've seen in my whole life. We spent half the time flipping the kayak (and the other guy) into the sea when he wasn't looking, and spent the other half trying to get back into the kayak. The third half we spent under the illusion that we were Olympic Kayakers, and so set off on forced marathons here and there and imaginary races with fierce rivals and what not. It was Capital (with a Capital).

To cut the story short, a disheveled Me (that's Me) arrived back in KL some very late time at night and then dug a huge whole in my wallet catching a Cab back to my Auntie's. As a consequence my Teachers did not have the honour of observing me the next day, and so here the story shall end.

Some Pictures.

Waiting for the coach to JB. Please remain seated, stress-relieving measure in action...

Waiting for the ferry to Tioman...

Mean Boy pose..LOLz..

The enchanting Docks at Mersing made horrible by my photography...

'Me Grandaaad was a saylerrr, yerr knoww..'....

Land ahoy!

Docks at Tioman...

The view from the balcony..

Beautiful mesmerising enchanting Tioman...

Observe Fish please..

Holidayzee...

One of the snorkeling sites...

Note the I'm-not-about-to-slip pose please.

That should be all for now Dear Readers. Many pictures I have already posted on Facebook, please follow this link for a general enhancement of your reading experience. No stalking allowed. Dilarang Stalking.

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150272810541323&set=at.10150272810396323.371721.580746322.580746322&type=1&theater

Take Care Ladies and Gentlemen. If you knew how badly I need a car right now, and how badder I want one, you would buy me one on the spot, Honustly.
I want a car. I need a car.
Cars are stress valves, when I'm stressed I drive, when I drive I calm down, when I calm down I can study.
A car gives me freedom, it gives me independence, it gives me adrenaline, it gives me a sense of control.
It gives me something to Love, and shower with LOVE.
Unfortunately I was never trained as a Lawyer.
My Sister was.
Love
Ashworth

The Three Matadors...

2011-05-25T20:44:00.000+03:00

Dear Hippies, Gangsters, Stalkers from the University of Nottingham (Malaysia Campus), Ex-Crushers, Ex-Crushed, Haters, Fat Sisters in far-flung lands, MacDonalds, and the rest of the band-wagon. WELCOME.

Today's post is going to be precise, concise, short, to the point, simple, and errrm..I can't remember anymore synonyms.

Now that I'm a Single Bachelor (How cool does that sound?) I've actually started missing a lot of things from 'back home'. But there is nothing I swear that I miss more than driving - apart from 'Home'. I miss driving like crazy, I crave for a car, I dream of a car, I salivate over cars day and night, I stalk cars, I spy on them, I fall in love with them. None of this is exaggerated whatsoever. I miss driving $!!!%$%!£%!!$%$&! that bad.

BUT with a difference. I now want to drive my OWN car. I want a car.

I WANT A CAR.

I WANT A CAR.

Below I've drawn up a list of cars juuuuusssssssssssst within touching distance. Being the reasonable chap I am, I'm not going to crave for a Ferrari or Aston because right now those are just dreams. But these cars are my all time favourites, they're affordable, they're amazing, and if you buy one of them for me I shall Marry you. Promise. No questions asked.

Scirocco. The Stunning VW.

Not available in the Mid-East but in wonderful abundance just about 'round here.

I think one of the best cars ever designed. Beautiful, sporty and sleek. A Single Bachelor's car, DEFINITELY.

A four-seater without being cumbersome. Practical, while retaining that sporty touch.

Love on First Sight.

Honda Accord.

Coupe above, four-door below. K.O.

Wonderfully comfortable, almost luxurious, without being impractically huge. It's efficient, sleek and such a road-loving car.

Love on First Sight.

Mitsubishi Evolutuion

One of the bestest cars ever designed. Small yet so sporty.

I love small cars, they're practical in crowded cities and they're just cosy and 'personal'.

Making it a sporting beast is such a winning recipie.

Go Baby. I LOVE YOU.

Love on First Sight.

As you can see, all cars quoted are Loved 'As Is'. No other Models would do, I don't like the new Accord nor Evo, I like the models I mentioned. If you want to Marry me bear this in mind. Very Important.

Loveacar

Ashworth

Dear Chef...

2011-05-22T14:44:00.000+03:00

Dear Chef at George Town White Coffee:

I know as a Chef you love to experiment with dishes, I know being creative with dishes feels good and looks wonderful on the CV, but please also consider our taste-buds, even as an after-thought.

I happened to lunch on your 'Rojak' (mix) today, which was certainly stimulating, though in which direction is uncertain. Firstly I was expecting a Rojak of Beef and Chicken and Tofu and vegetables, since it was on the Lunch Menu. Why would anyone have a fruit Rojak for lunch?

Secondly I don't think Mangoes, Guavas, Pineapple, Cucumber, Water Apple and Squid all topped with crushed Peanut and drenched in Soya Sauce tastes very nice. Trust me, it doesn't at all.

Thank you for wasting my money

I don't think I've ever cleared out a restaurant as fast as I did today.
Thank you

Alone in Foreign Lands...

2011-05-14T13:30:00.004+03:00

Dear Blog Readers.

I'm sitting in a Cafe watching the rain and pretending to study.

My presentation last Thursday was a complete piece of Hog-wash. Dessert included.

I cannot bear people who walk at a low rate of perspiration.

Girls. I'm a Bachelor who's so not for sale.

If you treat your customers like Kings, you can charge them like Kings. Observation of the week.

Even if I cry, I wouldn't tell you.

And I still haven't played football.

I'm going to start a campaign for Cockroach Genocide.

I want a friend who's a good Muslim. I want a friend who loves football. I want a friend who's smart. I want a friend who loves trekking, cycling and travelling. I want a friend who's tough and adventurous. I want a friend who thinks as I do and loves the same things. He's gotta be chatty, mature and he's gotta be funny. And he's gotta walk fast and be half-British. Like me.

What an Idealist's dream.

Alone in Foreign Lands..

Amongst the hills and marsh..

And here are some Graffitis:

Isa.

Yasmin.

Please tilt your screen back as far as possible to view these pics in their TRUE colour. The saturation got messed up when I scanned them.

My Blog's current background.

Maryam.

Fatimah.

Farhaanah. Also enjoy tilting back your screen.

Ibrahim Ashworth.

And my new Hand-luggage. Have a good day.

Love

Ashworth

The Learning Curve...

2011-05-11T13:40:00.002+03:00

Dear Bloggers

I know I have only been at University Three weeks, but in those three weeks I have learned so much. I have embarked on such an exponential learning curve that if I climb too steep I'm going to do such a summerset as there would be no recovering from.
For example I learned that at University no one gives two hoots about you, and that you are completely and entirely on your own. No one's going to feed you or sit with you just to chat or come play football with you or any of the rest. No one gives two hoots, you can starve for all anyone cares.
I have also learned that at university you have to stand on your two own feet, by yourself. That is because they are the only pair of feet that you can stand on. Okay I know you can stand on your Mum's feet, for a few seconds, but then you're going to fall off and it's going to hurt a lot.
I have also lost my bestest thing I had before this. DRIVING. You would not imagine the freedom that driving gives you, and the independence, till you actually drive a car. Then not drive a car, like me.
I never knew I could survive three weeks without football but I have, and that's because no one gives hoot. And if no one gives hoot then you must also not give hoot.

Hoot.

Sundries. Sundried.

2011-05-05T17:55:00.000+03:00

Dear Blog-Bugs. I know It's been a short time but I'm working myself into a writing frenzy here. Please do not interrupt.
University, as one may casually observe, is a blending machine. University is a blending machine of such colossal proportions that you cannot resist being blended, no matter how tough a nut you think you are.
I come from Saudi where the only girls I see are under the age of ten, generally. I am thrown into a class of nineteen-year old girls, some of whom happen to be alarmingly sociable. Taking a shallow knock into a son of this topic, today we were assigned groups for our Business and Social Science presentations.

Now usually, and without too much self-praise or too little, for that matter, I am a Go-Getter. I like to lead because I don't like to be lead. Today I so badly wanted to get up, call my group members together for an impromptu meeting, introduce ourselves since none of us know each other, assign tasks and so on. Unfortunately, half our group being girls somewhat dimmed my star of brilliance..ehm. So I sat there meekly and watched. There being in our group another 'born-leader', he wasted no time in taking up the reigns, he called the meeting, he took down the numbers, he delegated tasks. HE DONE EVERYTHING I WAS DYING TO DO.

But honestly a big Ciavou to him, to his credit he done it very well. I think it was the first time in my life I felt comfortable being lead. Maybe.

One thing I don't like about Semenyih, my town of residence, is the fact that IT DOES NOT SUPPORT THE CAFE CULTURE. If you don't know what the Cafe Culture is, I'll tell you.

The Cafe Culture is a phenomena which first appeared when students, fiscally-prudent-pretenders or otherwise needed to study in a relaxing social atmosphere. This need lead to students wandering aimlessly around and about streets and shops and restaurants, searching for the best place to study. What they needed ideally was a quiet comfortable atmosphere in the midst of ongoing social activity, adorned with an internet connection and decorated with a cup of Coffee. The Cafe was born, students flocked there, the Cafe Culture was born. Unfortunately THERE ARE NO CAFES IN SEMENYIH. And I need to study.

WHERE ARE MY CAFES?? :.(

The Train Ride...

2011-05-05T15:13:00.000+03:00

Dear Blog Readers...
From Kuala Lumpur to Singapore...

Last week I was depressed, I was most depressed because I was lonely and was consequently feeling a little sorry for myself. I was sitting at my desk forlornly reflecting on my most tear-inducing condition when out of days of deliberation an idea struck me, why not go on an escapade? And so it came to be that I headed for town and off I was...

Beyond the window of a derelict Yellow coach I watched life flash past, the simplicity of rural life is most fascinating. Down muddy streets overflowing with roaming dogs and clucking hens, round Mamak stalls and the general peasantry, past rusty garages and rotting cars vying for death, beyond the dirt and muck and the trees and weeds, nestled in a valley of greenery, canopied by Rainforests and cloud-hugged hills, trundling along in a cranky old coach. This is now home.

I left this old dusty village far behind and fast forward many standing hours, I am in the City. From a booth in an ancient train-station generally reserved for the peasantry and university-students I book my ticket south-bound.
Anon and South-bound I am on an ancient locomotive not unlike a camel-caravan. These KTM wonders were introduced in 1722 and, allowing for their prolonged period of existence, they are in remarkably good condition.

Cockroaches roamed the plains and wildlife abound in the tundras. My bed seem to be home territory for at least half a dozen such claimants. I fervently believe that some near day in the future these trains should be designated as wildlife sanctuaries to protect the remarkable array of animals inhabiting their thoroughfares.

The ensuing nine long hours on this Colonial remnant was divided between bludgeoning all nooks and crannies of my bed to remind the cockroaches that I was still there, pretending to be interested in all manners of uninteresting articles and study guides, and additional bludgeoning of bed and stomping of feet out of regular schedule, calculated to surprise minor claimant inhabitants afore mentioned.
This of course in addition to starting a staring match with the moon which lasted all night, visiting the dispensary with Greenwichly precision, and throughout irritating most comically an unfortunate couple who happened to be my neighbours across the street.

When Dawn broke and Morning rolled back the blanket of star-studded darkness, I refreshed myself at the expense of a very long queue all urgently switching between legs and then pretending to all suddenly need a quick jog down the aisle, afterwhich, inspired by the regulars, I stood as carelessly as it was possible to look at one of the train's open doors. The wind whichever way it blew was in my face, it caressed my hair and blew to unknown quaters the cobwebs from under my eyes.

I stood gazing as Rainforest and open Marshland flashed past, twisted barks of ancient times and newly-wed spring green leaves. The air was sharp and fresh, with an occassional blow of trumpet we rounded bends and climbed hills, we trudged along and at long last as on observer from above may have said, "The Centipede has now arrived at its destination. May all please disembark".

Actually no he wouldn't have said that at all, I made that up, entirely. We did however, to conclude, arrive at most ancient train station rumoured to be built by certain Colonialists in a bid to improve their lives and ruin everyone else's. That is a fact. But it was wonderful and al7amdulillah (All praise be to Allah) I got the chance to taste this enchanting concoction of a journey before it becomes no more. They're closing down this lonely station, that is also a fact and that is sad.

Locomotivating...

Endlessly long serpentine...

Wildlife Sanctuary to-be..

Of Colonial proportions...Train Station.

The inner workings..

My Dear Readers, here you conclude your own personal journey through the dusty lanes of this blog-post. I hope you have sincerely enjoyed it, I have. Have a good night.

Have a Fulfilling life
Find a filling wife
What a tangled web we weave
Love, Ashworth

2011-04-28T16:53:00.001+03:00

MOMMY. YOUR MALAY BOY IS PROUD TO BE MALAY (half Malay). I'M LOVIN' IT.

Un Ceteris Paribus...

2011-04-26T16:20:00.000+03:00

Leaving Home...

Ceteris Paribus is Latin for 'All things remaining equal'. Un Ceteris Paribus is modern-day English for 'All things remaining unequal'. Un here is derived from the words 'Unsame, Unconventional, Unconfident, Unsure and Unsettled'.
The reason this is relevant here is because nothing here (in Malaysia) is as it was before, hence all things have remained unequal. My family ain't, my friends ain't, my room ain't, my school ain't and my 'hood ain't.
It's rather shocking really. I entered my 'new' room the other day which so shocked my senses I wanted to yell 'Yucks!', unfortunately there was no one to share this expletive with and so I had to swallow my tongue or else risk looking very foolish indeed.

I think the biggest shock to my senses wasn't the spacious living quarters I was endowed with, nor was it I am sure the sunny veranda or King-sized bed or Mahogany desk or any of the luxurious rest, it was the fact that this is now my home. It dawned upon me so suddenly that for a moment I almost laughed.
Up till now I have been in holiday mood, I'm still rather in a holidaying mood in fact, what with no studying for a year and coming and going and living with Aunties and Uncles, I think a part of me still believes that it's going back home, that this just another one of those holidays, I have not yet fully absorbed the fact that THIS is now HOME.

When I move out there soon InshAllah, from my Auntie's house that is, there would be no where else to go. My sister's off Globe-trotting, My Auntie's house is miles off, and who else do I know? I'm going to be alone in a class full of Chinese Squares whom I can't relate one single atom to and that IS shocking.

Anypath, here are some photographs describing my Royal living quarters and some of my modest attempts at Un-ceteris-paribus-ing it.

On first sight...

My Darling Bamboo Hairbrush...

Unpacking...

Creative use of drying-rack...

A window...

2nd floor, Grand Hall

''BARREN-NESS...

Kitchenete...

Errm..Stairs.

The Big Wide World...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Living here on my own and effectively building my home from scratch, I've reached the rapid conclusion that I can't have everything, and am now a firm believer in opportunity-cost (Economics showing its hand here).

When I go shopping I have to ask myself: What can I live without? I have discovered to my dismay that life isn't that hard without lemon-squeezers or tablespoons, and that one can live quite comfortably without a saucepan, frying-pan or a butter-knife. Cheese-graters, spaghetti-ladles, staplers and sunglasses also sadly have to be done without.

Days here are long and dreary, after lectures I dread coming home because I have no home. If I go back to my room what am I to do? I can stare at the bare walls for perhaps one hour, I can pretend to unpack my clothes for another half, but what then? There is no one to welcome me, there is no food to be had, there is no one to chat with, it is one empty empty room, one barren lonely 'home'. Go home, WHY??

Consequently I always have to devise ways to not get home. For example I pretend to love walking, and so I walk all the way from campus back home, a walk of some considerable distance. Or I pretend to be interested in watching hopefuls playing Billiards upstairs for hours on end, or I catch the bus to town then walk all the way back for the sake of it, a walk not to be trifled with.
But my favourite delusion is to catch the train to KL and buy a most trivial item and then catch the train back immediately afterwards, a round journey that most conveniently spends more than three hours of my time and keeps me from thinking, keeps me from thinking. Like yesterday when I went down to KL to buy shampoo, or today when I'm back in KL for a Coffee. You see?

Done-up bed and Anything-goes Desk...

House, Street view...

Rascalous Puppy...

I don't want to be ungrateful, there are people with no roofs to cover their heads. Al7amdulillah for everything.

A most discolouring incident coloured my day yesterday, if you'll excuse the contradiction in terms. I was making my way most rapidly out of the house to escape the wretched feeling of loneliness that was slowly enveloping me. When This Happened:

Let me here first point out that I live in a cul-de-sac, and that we have whole marauding armies of wild dogs being dogs about our place. As I was saying, I left home most hurriedly and was just exiting our cul-de-sac when I was confronted with a most terrifying sight. A mighty brown dog of mature proportions apparently took offence to the fact that I had crossed into the perceived precincts of its territory.

Staring me straight in the eye and putting on its best wolf-like face, it actually blocked my path and growled the most terrible growl I've heard in my life. It stood there and growled, it bared its fangs and stared me with its mean green eyes and growled, and growled the most terrible growls I've ever heard in my life. Let me tell you that this is the first time I have physically felt the blood drain out of my face, not drip, drain out in a huge big gush.
Pretending to the watching world that my intention had been from the beginning just to walk to the end of the road, all dressed-up, and then walk back immediately home seemed the natural thing to do, and so that was what I done. And then I spent the rest my interesting day doing headstands; trying to restore some of the blood back to my face. Actually no I didn't, but I might as well have. I might just as well had.

Farewell. Salams.

And LoveaDuck HateaDog
I LOVE the fact everyone here thinks I'm Malay, honestly
Especially the Malays
Love
Ashworth

Up Side Down...

2011-04-20T12:44:00.000+03:00

Dear Ladies and Gentlemen

The first thing I did when I arrived in Malaysia wasn't to collect my luggage, the first thing I done wasn't to get off the plane, the first thing I done was to sweat, and keep sweating. I'm sorry if this disgusts you, and though it isn't the exact truth, but it is very near it. Malaysia is most humid and sweaty, that I can vouch for.

Ummi and Abi, I'm going to come home a Millionaire InshAllah. A Millionaire. I didn't leave home to get married, I didn't leave home to find another home, I left home to come home a Millionaire and InshAllah I'll do it. Money is not an ends for me but a means, I'm not working to be rich, I'm working to be rich to pay you back. I often feel sorry for the children of the rich, how do they pay their parents back? I know to make you rich Ummi and Abi is not to pay you back, it's not to half pay you back, but it's a token nonetheless, and a token of gratitude I will make InshAllah. I need your Du'aa, that's all.

Today I visited Nottingham University to collect my dorm keys. I made numerous startling observations while I was there. I observed that most of the foundation students were girls, Chinese girls. This led me directly to two more observations. Firstly I wouldn't expect too many of them to play football with me, which is most depressing. Secondly I might as well walk around blindfold, which is an even more blinding piece of bad depressant fodder, maybe, ehm.

Another startling observation I made was when I visited my room. I observed most amazedly its barren landscape, its contours morphing most vaguely into a chair and desk, a bed and a cupboard. This observation overwhelmed me since I distinctly observed that this was not quite my bedroom back home, not at all like it in fact. I make no pretensions, I haven't come from a wealthy background but I've come from home, and there's nothing quite like home. Errrm especially when your new home doesn't have a mentionable window.

That's all for now, in the next few days InshAllah I will be engaging most enthusiastically in my favourite hobby, shopping. I'm going to post 'before and after' photos of my room InshAllah, all this whilst I wait for the airport pictures from you know who.

Au revoir
Love your home
Ashworth

Makkah...

2011-04-17T11:01:00.000+03:00

Dearest Blog, I have abandoned you to the elements for much too long, but fear not, for here comes your knight in shining armour..Ehhm.

Dear and not-so-dear fellow bloggers and blog-hoggers, welcome back once again to The Rubix Kube, a place where ignoble non-intellectuals meet uneducated peasants to discuss non-topics.

As you all know I've just come back from Makkah Al7amdulillah. I drove for quite a distance coming home, about 700km all told. It was quite a shattering experience, that driving. We had borrowed a family friend's car for the trip since our Dear little Goldilocks was feeling rather a little down after my fat friend jumped all over it (the car) and dented it.

Anycase I'm getting rather busy with packing and unpacking and repacking and what not and what also and all such things one must go through when one is trying to make sense of an empty suitcase and how to make it a full suitcase.

The case being as such, I shall have to dismiss you all and let the pictures do the talking.

May we.

Captain Daddy manning the vessel.

Into Ihram at the Miqat.

Mountains of Makkah!

The view from the window. Here we see the incomplete train-tracks on the mountain-side.

Tunnels. More tunnels. One of the prominent features of Makkah's urban landscape.

Seeing what's to be seen. Here in Mina.

Arafat. Camel rides. I'm the creature above, not below.

Mummy braving the harsh living conditions one must endure living in a desert.

Marmalades and Carrots going for a spin.

The girls squealing (as all girls do) as the camel 'descends'.

Spaghettso carrying off a lamppost with her as a souvenir.

The camel has a uniquely refreshing manner of sitting down.

Honeymoon. For singles only.

Train-spotting. At last we glimpse the Hajj train.

Baboons! Dotted along the mountain route back from Makkah.

The infamous mountain-route back from Makkah. This road winds its way most crazily along the mountainside right till the top. The drop is quite big too.

Please note the etched road along the mountainside.

All the way till the top. Babeh.

Snacking at a station on the way home.

That should be all for now Dear nothing-better-to-doers. Please sit tight, stay warm, study hard, and hug yourself everyday. At least twice.

Love

Ashworth

AWOL...

2011-04-13T23:27:00.000+03:00

Dear Readers.

I'm sorry I've gone AWOL. If you're wondering that's Away Without Official Leave.

I write to you from Makkah. Al7amdulillah Allah has given me the chance to visit Makkah before going 'back' to Malaysia to start University InshAllah. Internet here is limited but I will blog about this trip when I get back InshAllah.
Coming here on Monday I drove for quite some distance, as a result my mental faculties are not quite the sharpness of a blade. I have also been devouring food on sight, no need for any explanations here.

There's someone most annoying on Formspring who's persistently and consistently asking me very irrelevant and anemic questions. Dear Formspring questioner: If you are reading this please ask me questions that contain at least an atom of matter in them, anything less is impermissible.

Right now I so badly want a new phone and designer sunglasses. I know if I bug my parents they'll probably get me them in the end, but that just doesn't seem right to me anymore. I keep reminding myself; if you want something get it with your own money, if you can't afford it stuff it.
Apologies for the trampy language but I've made a resolution: From now on InshAllah besides errrm university fees and accomodation and food costs and tickets home anything else I want I'm going to have to EARN the money to buy it. Ohkey Dokey that should put me in a business frame of mind which might be a good thing. InshAllah this time it comes to fruition.

Take Care Ladies and Others
Love
Ashworth

BBQ...

2011-04-09T01:46:00.000+03:00

Night a happy night to you all, Ladies and Gentlemen, of sky-high standing or below-sea-level status. A grand welcome to you all once again on this proud blog by its considerably prouder owner.

I know by now you are probably resigned to the fact that I write a monthly post on barbeque's, much like the subjects of a Communist Dictator. That is most gratifying because tonight I persevere with this revered tradition.

As of afternoon the last we trundled upstairs for our monthly installment of barbecued delights. I could tell you the truth and say we had the barbecue on our panoramic veranda, or I could lie and say we had the barbecue on our dusty rooftop. Sadly though we are not in the immediate possession of a veranda of any sorts so this lie wouldn't quite work.

Our Rabbits partook in the festivities most enthusiastically, unfortunately we didn't partake them quite as enthusiastically and so they were deposited most safely till future reference.

Rodents off the menu and what we had else was quite bedazzling. We had Beef and Steak and Meat (which happen to be the same things) and all manners of chicken wings and chickens without anything but wings and wings without their chickens, and all manners of Fish and Seafood which was actually also fish and bangers and sausages and hotdogs which are also the same things and many greens and very much more. And if you were too thick to get it first time round what I'm trying to say is that there was so much food we could've fed and filled a pride of Lions, or perhaps two hungry Hippos.

And perhaps me being in-charge of the shopping for the barbecue had something to do with this gastronomical feast but that's a moot point. It may be my last barbecue at home for a while so don't judge. I'll leave you now with pictures and I'll leave them with you.

POW's. Prisoners Of War.

Wings grilling nicely under the falling light.

And Other. Hamour, Tuna and Steak...

Beefy. Handle from distance.

Dat's rite Yo. Dooin da Bizness.

Grilling sausages; Gangsters' specialty.

Hamour and Greens...

Tuna steaks and sundries...

The-friend-of-the-guy-wearing-the-red-shirt...

The chicken appearing to be 'well done'..

Serve it up boy...

I hope you've enjoyed watching other people enjoying a lovely barbecue. If you haven't go enjoy one yourself and please don't tell us all about it. It's just vain and so very boring. I'm different. If any pictures have convinced you to go on a barbeque's-only-diet just let me know and I'll help you out, there's loads more from where they came.

Do take care all out there..

Cowboys and Chewy Steaks..

Love

Ashworth

2011-04-06T05:37:00.002+03:00

"Men cry not for themselves, but for their comrades" This has got to be one of the truest proverbs pen ever put to paper.

That Year...

2011-04-05T23:33:00.003+03:00

Dear fellow Bloggers or Otherwise-suitably-occupied-personages, a very warm welcome to you all. I say a very warm welcome because I am now sitting in a very freezing room indeed, most freezing. But personal feelings aside and nevertheless a still warm welcome to you all.

As you all know, or by now do, I have been 'unemployed' for nigh on a year now. And I must ask myself this question: In a whole year of 'freedom', what have I achieved? And the answer is very hard in coming because in truth; nothing much really. Okay I rode a horse and lost 10KG, I taught myself some Graffiti, I traveled to England and Ireland, Singapore and Malaysia, and I made Hajj.
As you will no doubt notice should you be of that particular breed of humans resembling hawks, most of what I just rattled off weren't achievements at all. My travels were largely self-indulgent, Graffiti is no sky-high feat and losing weight, well I was on a tight budget.

It's very depressing to know that I've been sitting one year at home, ONE YEAR and I barely have anything to show for it. I mean where are the fruits of this long season? Just how have I managed to waste one whole year of my precious life? I didn't learn the Qur'aan, I didn't open any 'knockout' business, I didn't learn any new skills or martial arts, I didn't do any new crazy feat or break a world record or set one or achieve both simultaneously, I didn't get any articles published in any newspaper, I didnt...I didn't..The list goes on and on.

In my defense, I didn't actually know things would turn out as they did. First I had that monstrous four month Summer holiday which everyone had, and which everyone thoroughly deserved. After that I thought I was going to Uni in December (remember I was still The Architect back then), so I attended school, albeit not in the manner that a dictionary would describe as 'attending school'. I then discovered that I wasn't actually going in December and anon set off for Hajj. After which I was promised university was starting in February and then having seen the university, I promised them I won't be starting in February. And finally Notts. told me April was in fact the day and on the day InshAllah I'll be there.

But as must be abundantly clear to you by now, I didn't actually posses fore knowledge of the exact extent of the free time that would be at my disposal. It was always just waiting 'one or two months', it wasn't like I knew from the start that I'd have one whole 'gap' year before I start Uni. Had that been the case, okay the result may have looked suspiciously similar to now, but at least, perhaps, maybe, just maybe I could've planned some crazy escapade or adventure of sorts. Honestly, like running away on foot and trekking half the globe or something of the like. Or perhaps I could've indulged myself in a project of proportions biblical, of complexity maniacal, and of product astounding had I not been constantly tied down in thought to the limited time-scale of a 'month or two' instead of a whole year.

Nevertheless, excuses aside and I'm rearing to start University InshAllah. I honestly want to have back that part of my life, that part that's full of purpose and strive, because without them man is a listless beast. Though I know I'm going to start complaining the minute I start InshAllah, just wait and see.

Lovey Doodle
Ashworth

In the Balance...

2011-04-03T13:21:00.001+03:00

My Dear Ladies and Gentlemen, in the space of two months al7amdulillah I lost 11 KG. Now I know most of you don't care whether I lost 11 KG or put on 11 KG, in-fact I know none of you care whether I lost weight or put on weight. But this blog is not just a public museum, it is also a private diary. Therefore my Dear Onion I have a right to record momentous happenings in my private life in it too, and this is a momentous happening.

These photos most unfortunately are fakes due to..ehm (read below).

Al7amdulillah all praise and thanks be to Allah. It's been tough, VERY tough. CRAZY TOUGH. It spoiled the party a bit though that only TWO days after hitting 70 I was back up to 73. Talk about partying.

Love
Ashworth

Farewell Manarat(ies)..

2011-03-29T14:24:00.001+03:00

My Dear Ladies and Gentlemen, I know it's early in the day but my friends have exams, big fat A-levels exams coming up. It was therefore today of early morning that I trudged to school to bid my friends and this most venerable establishment adieu.

I have ~~studied~~ hung about in this school now for almost five years, I have made many friends and seen many strange things happen. I have been at the forefront of major uprisings against all forms of studying and I have personally attacked many teachers. I have also been attacked by many teachers and also once by a car.

But jocularity aside, Al7amdulillah Allah gave me the chance to study in perhaps one of the most academically-excellent schools in the Kingdom. Al7amdulillah we have, I honestly believe, been taught by some of the best teachers in their subjects nationwide, WORLDWIDE. To all my teachers who have taught me at this school for even a day, a specially big thank you.

I've also since I arrived been stuck in a class of exceptionally nerdy students, students you only read about in books, who walk around with round gold-rimmed glasses pouring over Einstein's mother-of-all-theories, or who study twenty-five hours a day, fifty-six days a month because they only averaged a score of 112% in their last eighteen exams. Al7amdulillah after Allah's blessings, I think this goes some way to explain my unusually high marks in exams - If you were wondering.

My friends and I have shared many memorable moments together in this esteemed school, it has taught me so much about life and how hanging out with the wrong crowd can have disastrous effects. End of the day though we are, and proud to be, Manaraties through and through. To all my Dear friends out there, wrong crowd or right crowd, thank you for everything. It's been a pleasure knowing you. May we keep in-touch and meet in Jannah one day InshAllah, but for now, Au revoir.

[Click on photos to enlarge].

Reflecting upon the finer points of life..

Our IG days. Some of the best days of my life.

Partying after final exams...

Football fanatics...

Yep, that's me whooping Yusuf.

What's up with my shoe?

Team Maniacs...

Sheer relief. IG's over.

Fast-forward two years. A-level'ers.

Team Nerds. Minus me.

Wasabi Sushi...

Rare sighting of wild Monkeys in action...

Skillz...

Twins squared. To the power of minus Modesty.

= four twins + Monkey-in-the-middle.

That'll be all for now Dear Friends. If you can't see your face anywhere hereabouts please call our hot-line. If you weren't hot enough please call our cool-line. JOKE. Terrible joke.

And so, Assalamu Alaikum.

Regards

Ashworth

A day at the Races...

2011-03-25T14:52:00.000+03:00

My Dear Blog Readers with nothing better to do with their lives, yesterday I went to the Races. I didn't go to the Races to watch horses racing, though I know that's what most people do when they go to the Races. I went to the Races and watched horses racing, which is quite a different thing.
I also saw some horses, which was nice.

The massive TV screen at the race track. Note the horses mid-action on-screen please.

The stands..where people sit.

A horse crosses the line. Thrilling.

Whatch'ya staring at boy?

The winners paddock.

Hoawz'it doon' Cowboy? Errm, no that doesn't sound Cowboy to me.

Uncle Dawoud. Chief-Marshall and original Cowboy. Made in America.

'That's right..Kiss my head Yo'. Respect.

NO, I'M NOT JEALOUS OF YOU. I'M NOT.

Apparently Zak's sister stole his shirt..It happens, it happens.

Zaid looking like a Colossal tree trunk.

Smiley MacDonalds looking a bit high.

Nah Nah Nah, posing ain't my thing sonny. Observe Henna-ed head please.

Now I'm sitting at home with Henna on my head, and I got this sinking feeling that when I wash it off, my ears will be very bright Orange too, but that remains to be seen. Note please do that this is the first time I put on Henna, so don't go around thinking that I practically live on the stuff because I don't.

Au Louvre
You're a Gem
Ashworth

2011-03-23T17:34:00.001+03:00

I'm impatient, impulsive and irrational. My blood boils quickly and my heart is swayed easily. If you don't know something you cannot miss it. I've never known love so I don't want to marry. I've loved before but that's a different story. I get rushes of adrenaline that choke my voice and leave me breathless, when I get an adrenaline rush I look as if I'm about to cry. There's not much happening in my life right now so there's nothing to write, except that my Dad bought a car the other day.

I'm 19 and I'm going to university in one month's time InshAllah. My thoughts? I'm eager and excited, quite excited. I'll be living in a house InshAllah with 7 other random dudes (no girls) so I dunno what to expect. I'm sharing a bathroom though and that's gotta be disgusting. I mean if you can help it you don't ever wanna share a bathroom with a guy, I dunno 'bout girls. Yeah, I'm excited, I'm also a bit nervous and that's funny, I'm nervous I won't do well in studies. Economics is my forte 7amdillah MashAllah tiff tiff tiff and if don't do well in Economics well then what next? There's a lot of pressure on me because Khadijah MashAllah's ACE-ing it and Isa InshAllah's going to England so now you know why I gotta achieve, shine. If I'm not the black sheep in the family I'm not exactly feeling like the white one.

I go to school now and attend Economics with my Dad, the concepts are a bit challenging and I'm way too rusty. Will there be a lot of football in University? Every night? There better be because otherwise what's the point? Are my lecturers going to be good? My Dad's an amazing teacher MashAllah TabarakAllah and that's not just because I'm his son, or because I'm waiting for a monthly-allowance increase. Will I be able to maintain my weight? I've struggled so hard for three long months and now 7amdillah I'm kinda not fat anymore.

I start out in life with a big weight on my shoulders, I dunno if that's because I talk too much or because people see something in me, but people expect me to be rich. I don't know if they hope or believe but I don't want to know, I feel like I'll betray everyone if I don't turn out rich. I think I'll feel like a failure and I don't like that. The scary thing is I'm going down an academic route and I can't see where's things go from there, I know no one knows what lies for them after university but for me that's still scary, I'm a man who likes to know where he's going. My academic route doesn't lead me to the job I want, I want to be a Manager but I might turn out an Economist and that's dreadful.

The Price to Pay...

2011-03-20T08:35:00.000+03:00

My Dear Ladies and Gentlemen, in Dresses, Skirts, Frocks, Blouses, Overcoats, Topcoats Tweed or Leather: I know my Blog has become boring, I know for a fact it has become boring because I am for a fact becoming a sort'a reflective Chap, and when did you last see a reflective sort'a chap with a blog which wasn't half boring? (Don't get smart and answer this please, it's a RHE.TORI.CAL question).

Anypaths, the other day I wanted to buy a hairbrush. Yes, I'm a boy and I brush my hair. I wanted to buy a very nice hairbrush, preferably Oak or Ebony, but Mahogany would also have done. To my astonishment I was met with fierce resistance from The Chancellor of Exchequer who calmly explained to me that to inflict such sizable damage upon one's wallet on what was deemed to be a trivial item would be inexcusable folly. Not even an Arabs' Revolution could get me my hairbrush now.

Ebony and Thistle...Now that'd do.

The point I'm trying to make is this: I valued a wooden hairbrush very highly, but someone else didn't, so what makes our valuation of objects differ so wildly from one person to the next?

The first obviously is a question of Gender. I can't think of a Man who'd spend a dime on a skirt or a Lady who'd invest her monthly allowance (ehm..) in a football. Unthinkable. This however does not prevent accusations of money-laundering and I-told-you-so-boys-waste-more-money-than-girls-on-stupid-things-like-football-shoes. Or why-would-anyone-buy-ten-handbags-and-twelve-different-colours-of-lipstick-when-you-still-end-up-looking-just-as-ugly.

Gender - and refreshing dialogue - aside, and we still vary wildly in our valuation of everyday items. Now i'm talking about people from similar Economic backgrounds with about as hopefully bright (or bleak) an Economic outlook on life as each other.
I can easily spend, and justify spending, half my monthly allowance on Coffee. I would love to buy an expensive hairbrush *hint*cough*ehm.. and would willingly dig a massive hole in my wallet for a Rolex watch, or a Tweed Overcoat, or a Bonsai Tree, or a baby Galapagos tortoise, or Football Shoes.

'Hmmm...I'll have all three please'...

Breathtakingly erm..Breathtaking Bonsai Trees...

Okay, I know it's a Lady's. BUT it's pretty.

Some Glogwollaping Overcoats...

Now another boy my age, and my size - for fair comparison - might think whatever I bought a big waste of-a-hole-in-the-wallet and go and buy some electro-techno-wizadry-motherboard-hydrogen-powered-chip-gadget for the same amount and feel like it's money well spent.
Now I'm not going to give any examples about girls because all girls buy the same things which are: handbags, make-up, skirts, red lipstick, reddish lipstick, redder lipstick and so on, and they buy the most expensive one they can get away with..so an example here would be useless. Sorry Ladies.

'I'll have that one please. Yes, and that one. And that one'..'Okay, just give me all four'...

Moving on, after the Arab Revolution that failed to net me my hairbrush that is, I started reflecting, and being a reflective sort'a chap that wasn't difficult. I started thinking about what makes an object valuable in my judgement? What's the evaluation process that the Grey matter in my skull undergoes when deciding whether or not to buy something, and if so then for how much?

I came to realise that a big factor in deciding whether to buy or not is the price. Now I can assure you I did not cheat or copy this astounding theory from anyone else, yes I came-up with it all by myself. After price perhaps for me was how much enjoyment I derived from this object of interest. Alongside enjoyment obviously comes satisfaction, boasting-rights, one-up-manship and so on.

Immediately thereafter in the hierarchy was durability. I find I love things that last. I love Cast-iron Mugs because they last, for years, okay and it'll make my Coffee taste better, probably. I love Rolex and Adidas and TheNorthFace and anything that I think lasts beyond its expected life-span, I love, I love to bits.
Perhaps Brand-names comes afterwards but I loathe to think so because I hate Brands. Yes okay I want Branded stuff OBVIOUSLY but I associate big multinational brands with greed and environmental damage and exploitation and all the rest of it. Okay I love Brands.

Here and it gets all muddy, as if it weren't muddy enough, but I'd just like to add that intrinsic value doesn't rate very high on the scale with me, except obviously if it's Gold or Land. Oh and also I don't give hoot for the latest phone, the latest fashion, any Celebrities or Celebrity-endorsed stuff, technology and all the rest of crazy things people nowadays spend their money on.

I have now expended all the breath at my disposal and must stop or else risk breathing in some of your breath, which would be a most undesirable thing to do.

Au Revolvers Ladies and Gentlemen
Take Care, Buy yourselves Oak Hairbrushes
Love
Ashworth

A Narrative...

2011-03-16T17:05:00.000+03:00

Long ago, very long ago, in a faraway land of a different age my heart was stolen from me. I was young then and I didn't know but there was a recess in my chest, a void where my heart should've been. It was my heart and it was stolen from me. She put my heart in a little treasure box, the thief, and locked it away.
My heart was soft, my heart was tender but it needed nurturing, and everyday it'd cry with pain but she never opened the treasure box and she never looked in it again. A speck of dust fell on my heart but she never dusted it away. Another. Another and soon my heart was coated in this oh so thin layer of dust. True it couldn't be seen by the naked eye, but if you had looked close enough for sure you would've seen. You would've seen that layer of dust that was now just oh so tiny bit thicker.

My heart still cried everyday and it ached and longed for love and affection but she never once looked in the box. She thought the heart would always be safe and where she left it it could never run away. But very soon though she never knew the heart had a very thin crust of dust around it and the crust was growing hard. And day by day though you wouldn't have seen, and week by week and month by month the crust slowly squeezed the heart and oh so very slowly it wrung it dry. And after so very long and so very far away, hidden in a little treasure box the heart turned hard but she never opened her little treasure box and so she never knew.

And the little treasure box with the rock-hard heart in, if you didn't know, sits on the edge of a cliff and it needs just one little push and over it goes. And if it does it shall tumble from so very high-up to oh so very low down and when it hits the ground the box shall break because in it the heart is rock-hard and away the heart shall roll.
And if darling you haven't lost my heart yet, you've come the closest I've ever seen anyone come to losing somebody else's heart.

And a word of warning the gulls are gathering by the cliff-side, and if one, just one tips the box over you've lost my heart, forever, and than my heart you'll never find a truer heart. And they say if you lose a true heart you'll never find it again. Because I'll be gone with the wind Darling. Forever, gone with the wind.
And I thought I'll just let you know.

Love
Muhammad

Who's the Billionaire?

2011-03-15T17:39:00.000+03:00

Assalamu Alaikum

Dear Skwoz Woozles, I most unfortunately just deleted my previous post: 'High-maintenance kid' by accident, so if you were fast enough you've probably already read it, if you weren't you haven't and probably won't and so stop fretting over spilled milk.

Something alarming just occurred to me, everyone I know who's my age or thereabouts or younger i.e. still in school and hasn't grown-up yet, wants to be rich when they do grow-up. Everyone wants to be rich, there's no question about that, everyone wants to be a Millionaire when they grow-up, most probably want to be Billionaires (that is those of us who aren't Billionaires already).

Now the very alarming fact is that most of them, that is most of us, won't become Billionaires, most of us won't even become Millionaires, most of us will just grow up to be ordinary human beings with some kinda income or another and so on. But at this age we all believe that we can become rich, that it's possible, that it can't be that hard, and that we're good enough. Meet any young flipper on the street and he'll you tell that when he's big he's going to be rich, full stop.

To believe you're going to be rich and to actually be rich are two very different things. I know Allah gives bounty and blessings to whomsoever Allah wants, and that all wealth is Allah's, but there is also human effort. We make an effort to be rich because we believe we can be rich. At the end of the day when we grow-up however we discover that hey, this wasn't the plan! What is it that went wrong between believing and actually achieving? Is it possible that actually that many people made wrong decisions in their life and the rest just weren't smart enough to become rich? No, Allah bestows wealth on whomsoever Allah wishes and all you have to do is pray and try.

I believe in dreaming, I see no harm in dreaming because when you dream you lose nothing. I dream that when I grow-up I'm going to be rich, I'm going to be filthy rich InshAllah. I dream of being rich, and so do my sisters and so do my brothers, and so do my friends and no matter what you say you also dream of being rich. I know you're probably sitting down reading this and saying money ain't everything and it doesn't bring happiness and that is true, but trust me you wouldn't mind a bit of money too if you were given it on a plate, no one would.

I also believe in ambition, I'm very ambitious al7amdulillah and I find it frustrating sometimes when people aren't as ambitious as I am. I always ask myself why aren't they ambitious? What is so wrong with being ambitious? You won't lose anything, trust me, you won't lose anything by being ambitious. I want to be one of the top Managers and CEO's in the world, I want to have my own business empire, I want to build my parents and brothers and sisters and all my relatives and friends palaces and mansions, I want to study in Oxbridge one day, I want to open my own University. InshAllah to all this. I believe that al7amdulillah and InshAllah I have the capability to be and do all this, and with Allah's help inshAllah I will.

But it's so very frustrating when someone says I want to be an engineer or a doctor and then, full stop. Okay why don't you want to be the best engineer or doctor in the world? What stands between you and wanting to be that? Nothing. You should always want to be the best in whatever you do, not only because it's a matter of honour and pride but also because Islam teaches us to do whatever we do to the best of our ability.

My blood is boiling now and I'm getting all worked-up but anyway, that's a piece of advice and just some of my thoughts. Do please be ambitious and try hard and never be afraid to dream. Always pray to Allah to give you happiness and success in this world and the next.

Do take care
Love
Ashworth

Graffiti. New Theme.

2011-03-12T15:10:00.000+03:00

My Dear Readers. This post is the biggest non-topic post of the century. I know I should have grown out of this by now but I haven't, so I'm going to tell you that this is my 201'st post. If you aren't as good at Maths as me then what this means is that my last post was number 200.

This week I bought four new books, Classics, yes. Lately, my English has been taking a rather exponential dive downwards towards some unfathomably ugly ending and so I decided to do something about it. Go Dickens.

I haven't been blogging this week as I've been working on my blog interface. As you can see my dear Jealous fellow bloggers, I'm giving my blog a remake. It's still a work in progress, but if you're already feeling more jealous than usual then please perform a 180 degree turn, walk directly up to the wall and bang your head in it, that should cure you.

Anyways I'm still experimenting with the new Graffiti-theme-look so please, if you have any feedback or suggestions chuck 'em down in the comment box. I probably will ignore them anyway but at least you can feel good.

The Graffitist
Love
Ashworth

An Oxymoron: A boring post.

2011-03-07T22:35:00.002+03:00

My Dear Loyal Readers.

Today I find myself in a rather scholarly frame of mind, therefore I shall attempt to engage your interest in a parchment of information which could be said to endow benefit upon, whilst showering with humour, all those present.

Basically I've been learning some new funny words in the English dictionary and I would like to share them with you. Right, Nerd'O:

Defenestration: The act of chucking people out of the window.
Example: 'Verily I shall, should you pinch my nose, proceed to defenestrate you immediately'.

Oxymoron: Two opposite or contradictory words used in conjunction with each other.
Example: Deafening silence - Peace force - Honest politician - Plastic glasses - Military intelligence :)

Anencephalous: Characterised by partial or total absence of brain.
Example: 'My friends are, mostly, as anencephalic as Pumpkins'.

Fatuous: Silly or foolish, especially in a smug or self-satisfied way. (Unconsciously foolish).
Example: 'Once upon a time there were two twins. One was fatuous, the other one was Me'.

Formication: Hallucinated sensation that insects or snakes are crawling over the skin. To formicate: To crawl about like ants.
Example: 'The moment I saw that hungry American, I formicated to safety'.

Goubemouche: Literally, a fly-swallower; hence, one who keeps his mouth open; a boor; a silly and credulous person; someone who is highly gullible.
Example: 'You're such a goubemouche you actually read this blog'.

Mugwump: A person who acts independently or remains neutral, especially in politics.
Example: 'My brother lost the Election by one vote, his own. He's a hardcore Mugwump'.

Logorrhea: Excessive or abnormal, sometimes incoherent talkativeness; loquaciousness.
Example: 'I am very tired right now and what I'm saying doesn't make sense. My jokes are status quo. I look like a Goubemouche who feels like a Fatuous Anencephalic who's just been Defenestrated by a Formicating Mugwump. And I'm trying to find a place to insert Oxymoron but my mental faculties are failing me. Definitely bed-time. I think I am suffering from an acute bout of Logorrhea right now'.

That'll be all for tonight Dear Readers,
I am exiting my scholarly frame of mind for my peace of mind and yours.
Do take care, especially if you are one of the above.
If you're not, I advocate Mugwumping.
Love
Ashworth

Selamat Jalan...

2011-03-06T14:09:00.001+03:00

My Dear Ladies in furry coats and bright shawls
My Dear Gentlemen in overcoats and bakers' hats
My Dear Self in riding gear and a jockey's cap

Welcome all once again to this pearl of a blog. As you know I absconded to Malaysia some six weeks ago for furtherment-of-education purposes. I stayed in my Auntie's house where I had the time of my life, honestly. My Auntie was a wonderful host and I was an ungrateful grumpy lodger but she seems to think otherwise. Thanks again Auntie for a lovely time.

Anycase, I applied and was Al7amdulillah (all thanks and praise be to Allah) accepted in the University of Nottingham, after which I sat and reflected upon my current situation. I had six weeks left to university, I wasn't working chiefly because I wasn't in the mood to work, I wasn't playing sports because I had sort'a ditched my friends back in Riyadh so I had no one to play with, and I wasn't eating because I was desperate to hit that 70kg mark. All in all I guess I was in limbo and I had noone to blame but myself.

Extracting myself from this limbo would require some ingenuity, and so with fervor I set to work. I doubled the weekly quota of fights I could have with my sister, I haunted Cafes like an Italian-American, and talked to myself a lot. Exactly two weeks later I realised it just wasn't working, and so I picked up the phone and told my Mum I want back. This wasn't any normal home-coming, mind you. I kept it a secret as best as I could. Only my parents, one brother and one sister knew.

When Al7amdulillah I arrived safely back in Riyadh I took delight in shocking my family and friends one by one. Please note that till a few hours before I was putting on my best forlorn and lonely voice and telling my sisters and friends that hopefully I will see them again one day, from which no doubt they conjured up images of me greeting them with my wife and twenty-two children.
It was mayhem when I walked in the house. My sisters started gaping and squealing not unlike mice, after which they pinched themselves with passion then rubbed their eyes, and finally when it dawned on them that it was really only me they looked quite disappointed.

My friends differed wildly in their reactions. Some gaped like shocked Puffer Fish, some rubbed their heads and laughed like drunkards, and one of them to this day is still in a complete state of shock. Anypaths it was a very lovely thing to do, and I'm glad it spiced up one or two people's day.

Graffiti-mania...

Okay I must be off now. This ageing Blog needs a face-lift so don't be surprised if you suddenly find yourself staring at some shockingly colourful blog that bears the name of Rubix Kube, It's still me, same old same old.

Don't judge a Man by his looks
Never judge a Lady by her tongue
Love
Ashworth

Different Perspectives...

2011-03-05T23:08:00.003+03:00

The human body. The human body according to a Biologist is an independent anatomical entity consistent of various biological systems which work in conjunction with each other to sustain and support the phenomena known as 'life'.

The human body according to an Engineer is a symmetrical structure with a weight distribution of 60/40 for lower and upper body parts. This body consists of mechanised flexible extensions at the heart of which is a power generator which keeps it going.

The human body according to an Artist is a beautifully sculpted balanced creation. It's beauty lies in the proportionality of its parts, its curves and lines and its unity of purpose.

The human body according to an Economist is a unit best described by the epithet 'resource' and is a means of production within an economy. Collective human bodies make up the population, from which we can extract 'the workforce'. An educated workforce is an asset to an economy and if utilised to its maximum potential GDP per Capita will more likely than not be a very enjoyable experience.

The human body according to a criminal is a %^?&%%^&* waste of space except of course if it stuffed with cash and bling in which case it should be robbed and mugged and beaten and stolen from.

Probably by now you can guess that I'm no Doctor and no Engineer and no Artist and certainly no Economist and possibly no Criminal. But that is not the point. The point is that if I had been one of these I would have described the human body something along the lines I have just mentioned, and while I would be right the Engineer would also be right and so would the Economist and so would the rest. These are called Different Perspectives.

Now I know this is a very new word to some of you but I assure you it makes sense. Don't be so narrow minded because yes, you're right from your perspective but the other gentleman is also right from his. And in this world I'm sorry but you can't be the only one who's right, so learn to accept that other people will see things differently from you, and from their perspective they're just as right as you are from yours.

I'm not saying there is no right or wrong, there is. But each person has his own constitution of 'rights' and 'wrongs' and so you just have to live with it. Too bad. In Religious matters you try to correct them, NICELY. But if it's a question of
"you're ugly"..
"Right, but you're uglier"
"Wrong, you're twice as ugly"..then you're both wasting your breath and you're both wrong and I'm right and that IS final.

Love Doovey
Back in Riyadh
Ashworth

A study in Secret.

2011-03-02T14:23:00.000+03:00

I am a student of human behaviour. I am an ardent devoted student captivated by human behaviour. Many an hour I'd sit and watch people milling past, I watch crowds and observe individuals, I guess at people's reactions and tease their emotions. I play on people's thought's because it's enthralling. Many a time I speak to you it's just a game, many a time I scream at you or thank you it's just a game. I'd sit in a lift and play games, I'd tell you in body language whether you can speak to me or whether you can't, and believe me when I say it works. I love studying humans because I love to study human nature, action and reaction. I train myself and hone my social skills, I'd judge you from the first look and know to kid or not to kid. I'd wear a stern expression, I'd soften my look or look depressed. I always keep in the back of my head my burning ambition, to be a great business manager one day InshAllah. I study my friends, I study people's characters, I imagine I'm a manager and ask myself 'How would I deal with him'? It's captivating and it's enthralling. I don't know why I'm divulging this great secret of mine but it's true. And I know you don't care but what so. More likely than not you've sometime someplace been my case-study. Au Revoir.

Love
Ashworth

A Tribute...

2011-02-27T12:54:00.000+03:00

This is a tribute, this is a tribute to myself, it's a tribute to myself for choosing good friends, and a tribute to my friends for choosing a good friend, ME. Okay sorry if that sounded a bit arrogant and self-centered, it was a joke. A joke is something which many of you don't get, and so you probably won't get this either. Good, because I'm not getting it for you.
This is a Tribute.

Left to Right: Ibrahim, Zak, Smiley, YoMo, Mahdi and Isa. Squatting guys are Zayd and I.

Mahdi: Mahdi, you are the eldest and most mature boy in our group. You are very serious, obsessively so. You have the heartiest laugh I've heard in my life. You keep the lads in check when we get a bit riotous, you love arguing and in our gang that's a great thing, because we all love arguing. You're in England now and I doubt you'll ever read this. We miss you a lot and wish the good old days will come back, but they won't. So take care and all the best in life InshAllah. Peace.

Muhammad: That's me. Peace. Peace.

Isa: You're my twin, no actually I'm your twin. Alright, we're both twins to each other. You're very good at ditching our gang, and your excuses are marvelous, one day you should write a DIY excuses book. Best Seller. You must be the quietest lad of us all and the laziest (after Spikso). You do realise by now that all I'm doing is insulting you so I better stop. Peace.

Zayd: Zayd, you're fat and greedy, you're a good chef and you love arguing for the sake of it. In the gang, no one fought as much as we did, at times we hated each other's guts, well, I hated you're guts, but that was the fun in it all. I think we're both leaders who don't like listening to each other, even though I was always right. I'll tell you a secret: When I was in Saudi I was jealous of Ahmad because you spent so much time with him and not with us. You can be funny, sometimes. Peace.

Ibrahim: I don't know who's older you or Yo Mo but I'm going to put you first because you're my brother, talk about positive discrimination. You're a hot-headed exercise-obsessed Barn Door. You're a very sweet cuddly guy and it's lovely to have a chat with you. Besides that you're a Bouncer. You're good at football MashAllah but you just gotta admit it when someone is better. Peace.

Muhammad: Little Muhammad you're quite HUGE. You weighed in last time at the average weight of two Hippos and an Elephant's rear. Muhammad, you're a good story-teller and you're very immature. You can be a bit sensitive but you're loyal and that's good. We learned one thing about you: Never put you and Mahdi in the same football team, unless obviously we wanted to witness a live volcano. You're easy-going, though if you can just stop see-sawing between us and England we'll see you a bit more; Teddy Bear. Peace

Zakariyya: Zak, you're so cuddly and sweet, the sweetest guy from us all in-fact. You're breathtakingly polite and impeccably well-mannered. You have a fashion-setting hair-style but you're very loyal, and that I like about you.You're also very lazy and appear to be sleep-walking whenever I see you. You love animals and to prove it you once shot a dog. You can be sarcastic and sometimes funny. Peace.

Ismail: MacDonalds Smiley, you're the youngest in the group but you're not exactly short, or cuddly. Someone once broke your shoulder-blade but I promise you it wasn't me. You speak in monosyllables and appear to be perpetually grumpy. You can be very sarcastic and you have a wonderful sense of humour. 'Fat Guy Inbound' is not something I'll be forgetting in a rush. You sound like a Grizzly-Bear. Peace.

And there you go my Dearest Friends. A tribute to you all because I never want to forget you, I want us to remain friends forever in this life and the next InshAllah. Ameen. I want to read this post again one day and remember us all again, and the good old times. Wherever we may be in this world let's stay as close as ever because it won't do to lose each other forever, it won't do. You've been the best friends I've had and will always be. Remember, beneath the insults is just one-of-us being one-of-us.

I miss you all, and peace
Salam
Muhammad

Kedah..AGAIN.

2011-02-27T12:01:00.000+03:00

My dearest Lovely Ducks. Don't please say I haven't been writing on my dear blog, because I have. It's just that I've been writing secrets which I'm not going to show you so there goes.
The other day we went to Kedah, a very far and very Northern Malaysian state, where they pronounce their Capital's name (Alor Setar) like they suddenly got a chicken bone wedged down their throats (Alor Staaa'''*$%!). Anyways, we went there to visit Mariah, my cousin. I took a lot of pictures but I'm not going to show you them because as my elder sister recently discovered, I'm a jealous man and I don't like the idea of my trustworthy friends and unknown quantities of blog-trawlers staring at my cousins faces and making lewd and unwholesome remarks. There you go, censorship at its best.

"Show me the waayyyy..." ehm.

"And the van is catching up rapidly..."

In Kedah, Alor Setar, and a bird which sadly lost its life some moments later.

Al-Bukhari Mosque. And a stunning mi7rab.

The whole thing was actually hand-assembled. Honestly, this is not some cheap printing or plaster job, this is real inlaid marble and rock. Good old days boy.

The inner-courtyard. Note the beautiful arches.

The outer yard as seen from the mosque.

What's the joke sonny?

Who's the shortie...?

Alor Setar High Street.

Note family standing in far right of the picture. Slightly to the left. Cousins.

'Take one more chip from me....'

Recently, I had an attack of boredom so severe I though of running away from home, but ~~sadly~~ happily I didn't.
Instead, I've now gone big-time into that encapturthrallingvating fascinating world of Graffiti Art. Let me point out that this is not something new to me, I've done small pieces here and there at school on the back of a friend-who-wasn't-looking's notebook or something before, the difference is now I have much more time and I'm really going for it. YouTube tutorials, sackfuls of colouring wonders, cafe hogging...The works.

'Ash'...That's me.

'Khadijah'...That isn't me.

My Dearest Ducks, and there comes to an end this most enthralling of posts. Please remember, not every girl I meet I wish to marry, I am isolated from my peers and so one must make do with what one is presented with. I need to chat, that's all. AND I am a gentleman, a polite gentleman.

Take nothing to heart

Because your heart doesn't lie

Love

Ashworth

Ask me All you like.

2011-02-22T14:38:00.002+03:00

http://www.formspring.me/Ashworthprodigy (please note that answers aren't delivered under oath). Peace.

Architect-turned-Economist

2011-02-14T16:08:00.000+03:00

Okay Assalmu Alaikum Dear Readers. I know not why I am telling you something you already know, nor why I am repeating myself, but I shall anyhow and you must endure.

Let me start at the beginning, which is the usual place for things to begin. I am a man of my heart, I trust my heart, I follow my heart and in most things I listen to my heart. I don't sit and analyse logically, I don't do mental equations and draw imaginary scales, I am not emotionless and cold-hearted and calculated, you all know this, okay now you do.

Some months ago I was in Riyadh. I came back from school one day and I had had enough, I had to leave. I had to leave because I had had enough, it was that simple. Until today I cannot explain why I didn't complete my A-levels and then go to University like normal human beings, my heart said go and I trusted my heart. I didn't stop to think of options because that's not what I do, I did however do a simple mathematical calculation: When is the earliest possible date I can leave? That would depend on the University that had the earliest intake date. That was Limkokwing University and so I told my Mum I was going there.

I wasn't comfortable with it from the start, mind you. Only the week before I had laughed at myself between family and friends and thought what a fool I had been to even consider it. But this week I had to leave and so I had to leave there.

I arrived in Malaysia and visited Limkokwing University for the first time. Until today (again) I cannot explain what is it I didn't like about the University. I have no concrete solid single reason why I shouldn't study there, but I'm a man of my heart and I trust my heart, and my heart wasn't comfortable, my heart said don't study there and so I listened to my heart and shopped around.

I was on my way by train back to Limkokwing University the following week because I had found nowhere else. On the train I said to myself what is it you like besides Architecture? and my heart said 'Business'. And so just like that and because I trusted my heart I got off at the next station and phoned my Dad and told him I want to do Business. My Dad suggested Economics because Economics has a higher value in the market of desperate-undergraduates-looking-for-a-job. I agreed because I like Economics (to a degree) and because my heart liked it too.

And so it was next day that I went to Nottingham University in Malaysia and told them I want to study there because they are a wonderful establishment and a glowing edifice of knowledge and a hive of academic excellence, and all praise and thanks be to Allah they accepted me and so that is the story of the Architect-turned-Economist-because-he-trusted-his-heart-and-almost-nobody-else.

Love
Ashworth

The Entrepreneur.

2011-02-11T19:03:00.002+03:00

New Name. Same Game.

Hometown Boy...

2011-02-09T17:05:00.001+03:00

And so it came to be, my Dear Ladies and Gentlemen, that on a certain day in a certain month we traveled South. From Kuala LUMPUR that most wonderful Capital to the sunny avenues and humid alleys of Singapore we went. I drove most of the way down a road twisting and winding like the body of a slithering serpent, the views were majestic, and the air was clear. We...

We got to Pasiris Park mid-afternoon where we reenacted the D-Day landings on a poor little shelter, immediately thereafter we dispersed and got lost amongst the leafy pathways of the park. Anon our tribe began arriving with the usual hoo-doo of the Al-Jiffri clan, and in no time the party was begun.

Being a naturally helpful cousin myself, I took turns watching my other cousins do the barbecue whilst I quietly downed all the proceeds. I then took turns with myself watching another batch of cousins barbecue whilst I also downed the proceeds. Night fast approached, and with our shelter lamp out of order, we lit candles and sang a very good morning to you all. The sleeping hours now firmly established, we commenced our night games. We told wonderful tales of relatives abducted to far far places after which they fell pregnant, simultaneously with their baby, and then inexplicably turned into cats, immediately thereafter morphing into grandmothers.
We danced a Jiffri special, we played Dog 'n' Bones, we played catch 'n' tag and chase me all around and who's the smarter: Girl or Boy? and sang and hollered and hallowed and laughed deep into the night.

'Boys Only' expedition then took off, we lit a fire and played in the park, we spun each other dizzy and knocked each other out. We fought, we talked, we made merry and then with a thud crashed out.

Morning early morning rise Early Bird! The sun's out, the waves are crashing, the birds are chirping the sky's blue and take a spin on that racing bike. Aerobics now and Good-as-Gold shows the way. One! Two! Nine! stretch right! Left! Roll over bend sideways then flop. Breakfast wolfed down we launched the mother of all battles on a coconut tree, lost and Friday prayer time.
It's rollerblade its rollerblade its rolling rolling roller blade and Auntie shows how it's NOT done. One by one two by two it's now or never Cuckadoo and so like a well oiled apparatus all the cousins also showed how it's not done. Under the soaring kite and the flapping wind and above the rising sea we played sand and sand castle Who's The Builder? Bob. After which we gallantly posed for photos packed the tents and we were off.

-THE END-

Reminded me of Hollywood...

Muscles, Boy. Posing with a Horse-shoe crab.

Keep holding son...

And that is NOT how you barbecue chicken..

"No, you're UGLY!"...

Get's a bit sunny at night...

Goldilocks expanding his waistline...

Now why is everyone staring at me...

No comment..

Al-Jifri dance special..

Team The MEN..

Team the GRANNIES...

Team the GIRLS..

Dog 'n' Bone..Apologies, the photographer apparently chose the wrong settings. Blurry so.

Fish strike...

Cinderella Who??

Thet's the way sonny..

Ole..Ole..Ole...

Next morning, and GoodasGold starts an Aerobics lesson..

Haha, the joker...

Thrilled spectators..

A quiet breakfast..

Light it up Cowboy...

No, we're not posing...

The battle of the Coconuts..

Scant rewards...

Arrogance...

That's quite a big hole you made there, Son...

Being urged to uncover Auntie's shoes, which we buried somewhere..

The flying Elephant..

Jump shot...

It's rollin rollin RollerBlade...

Orang Asli...

Troublesome Trio...

Six months and counting...

Farewell Russian Lady...

Professionals...

-Really, THE END-

Herald to a close, Dear reader

A story as sweet as honey

Red as Rose

Light as a breeze

Bright as the Sun, twice as Sunny

Love, Ever

Ashworth...

Malaysia..Truly Asia :)

2011-01-30T14:43:00.000+03:00

A long time ago, I came to Malaysia and became an instant hate-figure in my Auntie's house, because everyone else had to walk around covering their heads. I simultaneously invaded the laundry room, then set-about ignoring everyone with the sad result that everyone now ignores me.

Sometime ago, in what is now known as 'the day before yesterday', I took Yusuf to a swimming carnival. Yusuf being my cousin, he had all the talents of a born swimmer, AKA Fish. Anyways we had lots of fun together, that is, Yusuf had lots of fun together with himself whilst I peacefully downed a marvelous Wild-Mushroom soup.

Yusuf - being my cousin - was always going to be an outstanding competitor. Throwing caution (and guidelines) to the wind, Yusuf swam a wondrous freestyle swim in a breaststroke competition, thereby truly blowing the competition out of the water. At this point I realised my jokes weren't funny, and so I stopped writing.

Nerd'O

Experimenting with my new tripod *showoff*ehm*. This is a 30 second shot.

Khidr Baby!

Meditation. Hindu style.

Hello pilot.

The school principal giving a few swimming lessons.

Textbook Diving.

Hey Dolphin.

Make me proud, Flipper.

Poetry in motion.

That'll be all for now, Galapagos Tortoises. Do take care, Russian Lady. Hey Doc.

Love

Ashworth

Thoughts...

2011-01-26T04:18:00.000+03:00

The weather is heavenly. Sometimes.
I go to the gym every morning. Because I want to.
I then waste the rest of my day. I can't help it.
I look forward to Auntie coming back from work. She reminds me of Mum.
My mind is unsettled. I don't like that.
I have a bully sister. That's how it is.
She could be a step-mother. I couldn't.
I can't open a bank account. But I need to.
I'm still shy around girls. Forever?
I want to say Thank You. Give me a chance for God's Sake.

The Last Day...

2011-01-22T22:13:00.000+03:00

Assalam Dear Dumplings. I am now in Singapore having a stellar time with my cousins Al7amdulillah. As you all know I've left home for university, which is quite sad. To celebrate the occasion my friends back in Riyadh done a wonderful barbecue for themselves (I was also invited), and just to make sure I was really gone. Please note that this was the first all-boys gang-members-only barbecue we've ever held together. We bought the meat, marinated it. YUP. and then scorched it very very well done. We might even have downed some charcoal by mistake; very hard to tell the difference. Okay, here are some shots:

Master Chef

The Midas touch.

Starters, if you please.

Oriental romance.

Okayy. Zaid and I manning the turrets.

Who's a Cowboy?

Relishing the extra warmth provided by the fire. A must in the Saudi heat.

Notice the back of Isa's head, which compliments the picture very nicely.

No respect for the elders these days. I'm burning the chicken while sleeping-beauty poses.

"That's how it's done Boy".

"Really, you're food looks great but we're still full from yesterday's breakfast". All yours, Honey.

Sir

A terrifying prospect.

And we rounded off the day we a game of Pool. The Finale.

That will be my last post from Riyadh (via Singapore) for sometime to come InshAllah. I miss you all, Lads and sincerely hope we can stay good friends and be together in this life and the Next in Paradise. Ameen.

Take care of yourselves, and Au Revoir. Assalam.

Love

Your Buddy in Malaya

Muhammad

2011-01-20T07:24:00.000+03:00

What I wish I could do now most is to come home, come home as if i've just been to the store and kiss my Mum's hand. I wanna come home from school and kiss my dad's hand before he goes to work again. I wanna go home. What I wish most now is just to go home and never leave again.

Forgive me Ummi and Abi if I didn't cry, its because I won't cry, I couldn't cry, I can't cry. I can't cry because I have to put on a brave face, because I cannot show myself to be weak. but beneath all the fake smiles is a dagger in my heart the size of a harpoon. Mummy, daddy, if my eyes don't cry tears, my heart cries blood. it wreathes and wrenches and twists, i'ts agonising. If crying is painful, not being able to cry is ten times worse.

I couldn't cry Mummy when I left you, and I couldn't cry Daddy when I left you, because to do so would be to betray my race, it would be to admit weakness, and it would be to fail from the start. Or maybe i'm just in a state of shock, or maybe i'm just still dreaming. Dreaming that this is just another holiday and 'ill be back. But I've left home Mummy, and still can't, won't believe it. Tell me i'm coming back Mummy, tell me home was always home, is always home. The dagger the size of a harpoon is still wrenched in my heart Ummi, and every time I think back over all those good days, when I was young and you took me out and taught me, and cooked my favourite dish, and when Abi took us out to the desert, and how I've been a stubborn and difficult son, how I was never that good and never that kind, and so many other times I daren't remember, and how I cannot help you now no more, and cannot drive for you no more, and cannot show my gratitude and love just once more, the dagger stabs a little deeper, and under the brave smile, my heart bleeds.

The Nursery...

2011-01-06T01:16:00.001+03:00

Assalamu Alaikum

Hello my Dear Ladies, today's topic is specifically devoted to you. Yes, I know you're honoured.
Gentlemen: Please look away.

You see I've been brought-up in a segregated society. I grew-up with boys, I go to school with boys, my teachers are boys (or men), I play and eat with boys, because all my friends are boys. At shops I interact with men (or boys), and at the mosque I meet boys. I've been a boy all my life.

You see I've never had much interaction with the gentler sex. Yes, I know I see my Mum and sisters everyday, but that's about it. This has resulted in a sort of deficiency in intellectual capacity and a severe blushing of the cheeks, not to mention the blanking-out of the brain and the swallowation of the tongue when encountering The Ladies.

This came to materialise most unexpectedly when I visited the clinic the other day. I was undergoing some tests and as a result I had to have blood drawn and x-rays taken and what not. I was ushered therefore into the laboratory, which lo and behold; held a congregation of about Fifteen Nurses, all Female. I was the single Man in the room. My predicament was unbearable, to try and describe how I felt was impossible, because at that moment in time my ears were burning bright red, my cheeks were morphing into beet-roots, and my eyes were vainly searching for a place to rest where the WASN'T a Nurse, which was obviously impossible. I actually felt intimidated, do you know that? Intimidated. yes, by a roomful of Nurses.

A graphic illustration of my predicament.

Now I don't know why I just told you that, and I equally don't know if I'm the only person like that. I'm not complaining or anything, I have no complaints about being brought-up in Saudi Arabia. It's just that I'll be leaving this country soon InshAllah, to a place which isn't segregated, and so I've been thinking, that's all.
But please don't worry, I'll find my feet in no time InshAllah, I'd have to, wouldn't I?

Desert Farers...

2010-12-28T20:42:00.000+03:00

Salam

Hello and welcome back everybody to this most popular of blogs, the Rubix Kube. To be honest with you, I feel like a rubber-band right now. A rubber band being wound and wound at both ends, till there's nothing left to wind. The tension in me right now is literally palpable, I feel like a pressure cooker, a rubber-ball and a sailor's knot all rolled in one.

You see I'm off to university very soon InshAllah. I've a got a mighty list of things to do and buy and people to see and friends to hug and everything else to worry about. I've got an emotional stampede going on in me right now. I'm sad and happy and regretful and worried and excited and apprehensive and so much more, and all these feelings are right now fighting out the mother-of-all battles inside me.

And the weight of worry is huge, it's like having a Grey Elephant hanging off my shoulders. Am I going to like university? Am I going to achieve and excel? Can I live by myself like a hermit? Can I survive on my allocated budget? Will I lose all my good friends back here? One thing's for sure, I'm going to miss my family like a crab misses water.

Anyways, enough of this depressing fodder. This week we went out to the desert, the desert I so love. We went to a valley you've never heard of, up a hill you've never seen, and breathed air never so fresh. We took in the majestic views and listened to our own echoes. We had fun.

One day you can come along InshAllah. Right now I need a massage. ENOUGH.

Reconnaissance mission.

In the Valley. Tarzan the Monkey Man.

Scaling the ehm...heights.

Flora and Fauna.

A romantic larger-than-life portrait of my little baby.

Some funny green fly. Most interesting, I know.

In the shadow of the valley.

Cavemen.

Descent. Phase the Final.

Flora and Fauna. I know I already...Ouch!

Into the distance. Made me feel like an ancient caravaner.

Home. Sweet Home.

And finally, my new 'Online Operations HQ'. 7amdillah, my first laptop.

That'll be all for now, hillbillies. Please take care, be lovely to your parents and nice to your family.

And thank Allah everyday for all that he has given you.

Love, Ashworth.

Friendship...

2010-12-25T22:43:00.001+03:00

Salam

Hello my dear darling, my little Humpty Dumpty. I hope everything's nice and rosy for you today, despite being a Humpty, and a Dumpty, and a Hillbilly.

You see, recently I've been thinking about friendship and its true meaning. Friendship is not black and white, you can't just classify people into friends or 'non-friends'. Friendship, as I see it anyway, has many degrees, many shades of grey.

Some of my friends are friends simply because we share common ground. We study together, we both like football, or we both fail exams, that sort of thing. It doesn't necessarily mean that I would still have made friends with that person had we met outside our sphere of common interests.

There are friends who are closer than that. There are friends whom we like being with because we like their personality, their character, their persona. We get along together even outside our sphere of common interests, we are comfortable with each other. That doesn't however mean that there aren't things we don't like about them. I personally don't like friends who swear or smoke, that doesn't mean they're my friends no more, they still are, but I just don't like the fact that they swear or smoke (or swear and smoke simultaneously).

And then there are family. When I say 'family' I mean friends so close they might as well be family. These are friends I've known since I was a toddler, friends with a similar background to mine, with a similar up-bringing. Friends who know my family, my interests, my hobbies and my moods, friends who know exactly how deep my pockets are (or how shallow), friends whom I can trust beyond a shadow of doubt..ehm. And friends whom I certainly hope to be friends with for the rest of my life. And even then there are somethings about them that I can't help but dislike.

I'm not writing this because I don't like being called a double-faced back-stabbing traitor. I'm not writing this because I'm trying to suck-up to my friends. I'm writing this so that next time when you hear me say I don't like such and such about such a person it doesn't mean I'm not their friend, it just means that perhaps I see them a little Greyer than I used to do.

(Note: Please don't feel alienated if you haven't made it yet as 'family'. I promote very selectively, so keep the gifts coming).

- A Friend -

POW...

2010-12-14T01:42:00.000+03:00

That stands for Points Of Winformation, Points Of Wimportance, and Points Of Wintersection. I have many thoughts cramming my head right now, it's 12:30 midnight as I write this so please diplomatically ignore any hallucinations I may fall into. Everything else is Gold.

- I can't stand people who munch, especially apples. Please kindly close your mouth when eating. It's polite and looks way better.
- Love does strange things. It distorts your perspective and dramatically reduces your ability to think rationally (had you previously been capable). You become emotional, sensitive and rather daft.
- Stress makes me eat more. I get stressed from things like over-exposure to women, studying and being asked to drive way too much. I get cranky.
- I judge very quickly, but I'm always sociable. Many friends have me, but I have only have a few friends. I love them.
- I don't like to be talked to when I've just woken-up. A gradual transition into the real world suits me.
- Don't wake me up just to say 'Muhammad, take me out now' or 'Go get milk'. I feel exploited.
- I'm nice guy, very nice guy on the whole. Totally charming and sweet, but even I have my limits. ehm.
- I'm an even nicer guy on the whole, but even nicer guys have their limits.
- I can be astronomically stratospherically motivated, I can be as driven as a thirsty hungry Elephant. I'll tell you what motivates me: Love, Money, Competition, Praise and Religion.
- If you want something from me, please don't ask me a million times. It gets irritating..and I can remember, you know.
- If I love something, I will totally love it. If I hate something, I will completely hate it. My emotions don't come in half's.
- I just saw the Rabbit do a summerset.
- One of my biggest torments in life are Wannabe's. Urrgh, please don't mention the word.
- And vulgar people.
- I Love teas, tea pots, carpets and rugs, leather garments, knee-long over-coat thingies, baker's hats, classics, all things wooden, horses, animals, perfumes, shoes, watches and pens, and of course my Blog.
- I have a thing against giant multinational cooperations. And Apple.
- I love business. One day InshAllah I'll open my own Architecture firm, a Tea-cafe chain, a restaurant chain, my own stables and a University. World: Watch out.
- 'Forensic Anthropologist' is a romantic title, maybe I'll marry a 'Forensic Anthropologist' one day.
- I don't think I'll ever want to marry. I don't know why.
- I've met an Ambassador before. I discovered they're just normal human beings...with a difference. They're called 'Ambassador's'.
- I am quite paranoid. That's why I never told you any of this before.
- I have to go now. It's 1:41 AM.

Take care, Offul, Bob and Twig.
Rabbit, Rabbit, Cat.
Love
Ashworth

The Argument...

2010-12-07T22:43:00.004+03:00

When you give advice, please give it in a nice manner and be pleasant about it (like me now). Please don't insult, don't get angry, and don't raise your voice. It doesn't give you anymore authority nor credibility than you already have.
Speak in a soft gentle voice and be polite at all times, that does give you more authority when speaking and does make the other side at least want to listen. Screaming and shouting just completely puts the other person off. Please remember your mannerisms at all times. Keep smiling and be happy. Peace out.

Wikileaks...

2010-12-05T23:11:00.000+03:00

Assalamu Alaikum

Welcome back once again 'dear' readers, by that I am obviously displaying my sincere affection and love for ehm..erm: sorry, (completely humourless joke). Welcome back anyhow.
This week I had to ask myself a very questioning question: Do I lack common sense? Do I actually walk around with my eyes closed? I haven't yet received an answer, but the answer in both cases is probably NO.

As you know I am an avid news-reader, I consume the news faster than the wild-fire consuming Israel right now. That doesn't however mean that I believe or fall for everything I read. No, I read, I think, I analyse, and then in the due course of time I reach my own conclusions. I'm not trying to sound like a hawk-eyed know-it-all geezer, I'm just saying that I don't swallow everything I'm fed by the news cooperations.

This week they fed us the captivating story of Wikileaks. Wikileaks is whistle-blowing website dedicated to uncovering and publishing anti-government embarrassing (and sometimes incriminating) documents. By 'anti-government' I mean things the government don't want you to know about, secrets, yes that's it.
Some months ago Wikileaks published an American military video shot in Iraq from a helicopter. The video shows American troops shooting dead (from the chopper) about eight completely harmless civilians in an unprovoked attack. When the ambulance arrives the helicopter turns on them, shooting the medic and two children who happened to be in the ambulance. This shocking crime, this utter disregard for human life, this unprovoked outrageous massacre by the American military completely stunned the world.

The news-agencies (especially the Western ones) erupted in fury. They featured erm..back-page half-a-line small-print 'headlines' of the story. They then all forgot about it the next day and life was back to normal.
Not once did that news behemoth, the BBC, ever actually feature an article asking what happened to those murdered citizens? Why weren't those involved prosecuted? Why weren't the families compensated? Who is responsible for this terrible massacre? Not once.

Instead, they featured ridiculous articles on 'Has Wikileaks cost lives?' They featured ridiculous articles questioning whether it was 'wise' to publish such 'sensitive' material. 'Could be a threat to national security' is how they described it. I mean what an absolute load of junk, of worthless crap is this. The real issue are those murdered innocents. Sadly however, the BBC obviously does NOT have an agenda, and so with all the nuetrality in the world they state that the loss of lives is not a problem so long as people don't find out. Apparently it's people finding-out about these crimes against humanity that's a problem. That's why Wikileaks must be stopped, because it's revealing the truth. Sadder still, the American government has also been strictly observing its neutrality, by getting governments around the world to issue arrest-warrants for Wikileaks' founder under sundry and frankly laughable pretexts. They're obviously not behind the massive cyber-attacks that forced Wikileaks to close temporarily, they're obviously not behind any of these attacks and many more, Oh no, no way.

(Please do excuse the alarming lack of cohesion AND structure in the above rant. I really haven't the time nor energy as you may wish dished-out freely at your disposal).

Anyway, I thought I'll just share my views.
Have a good day.
Luff
Ashworth

Small Talk...

2010-11-28T09:24:00.000+03:00

Copyrighted. Unauthorised use by modelling magazines will not be tolerated.

Assalam, welcome back once again dear readers. As you know, I went for Hajj Alhamdillah this year. As you don't know, I got sick midway through and still am. Now before you think I'm complaining, I'm not.

I've been quite knocked out actually since getting back about a week ago, I've been eating, moaning, sleeping, and eating 'some-more' (How do you spell that??). I'm missing football, I'm missing school (??!), Yes, and I'm missing horse-riding. And I'm NOT missing driving, that's a bonus.

I've just come back from the clinic now, where I was taking steroids, so I'm understandably high. One thing I didn't enjoy though was the drip they gave me. Now this is the first time in my life I've been on a drip, I know as a man I'm supposed approach this scary apparatus with a gung-ho macho attitude, and grab the needle and stab myself and the doctor with it just to make my point, but I'm sorry because that's just not me. I have an innate and 'above-average' ~~fear~~ detestation of needles (especially needles I'm about to be injected with) and so just now wasn't the most comfortable of experiences.
I passed the time though pretending to sleep and then pretending to be interested in a friend who was clearly pretending to be interested in me too, what a pleasantly mutual understanding. That's what friends are for.

I can't stop thinking about university to tell you the truth. Sometimes I think I've got myself a deal, but mostly I think otherwise. And then I look around and realise there's no other deal to be got anywhere else, and then I feel happy.
It is was a masterpiece of short-term thinking to be honest, a monumental tribute to my excitable impulsive sentimental nature. The big draw of that oriental far-east land-of-the-Sultans was and is my relatives, there was and there is no other big player on that side of the field. But what happens after university? You see? I will have to leave the far-east again one day InshAllah, and then that's when my certificate really counts (erm..or doesn't), but we'll cross our bridges when we get there InshAllah, for now I need to be-quiet.

No wait, I once had a dream (not unlike Martin Luther), I had a dream I'd go study in the West. I had a dream Cambridge was where I belonged, and where I'd go. It was easy, do well in A-levels and go. It wasn't beyond me, because it was a dream, and in a dream anything is possible. How-come I'm not going to Cambridge? Cambridge wasn't impossible, but it is now along with the whole of England, because I don't want to walk out of university with 50,000 pounds worth of debt, I don't want to study in country that's too foreign and cold and far, and live like a miserable lonely student. I don't want to be a financial burden to my family any more than I can help...as you can see, I'm trying to justify my choice. And I still need some convincing.

Now I don't know what's happening in our house, but everyone's suddenly gone knit-crazy. I'm not talking about the-knit-in-your-hair, that would be mistaking vulgarity for refinement. I'm talking about Granny-in-the-corner with a needle and a thread. All my sisters do now, day long, is sit in a corner and knit, and knit and knit and yap and gabble about everyone else except themselves, as all girls do (positive discrimination). Actually, against all 'upright' rules of manhood, I learned how to knit myself, simple knitting. It's quite boring I must say.

Nowz Pleaze, I haven't read an English Classic for ages, so excuse the shabby English. And I haven't used my camera for ages either, hence the underwhelmingly flattering pictures. But most importantly, I don't have anything else to say, so Goodzbyes, Salam.

Love
Ashworth

Hajj...

2010-11-23T14:03:00.000+03:00

Salam Dearest Sweethearts. I've just got back from my first Hajj Alhamdulillah, and it's been a very rewarding experience. I don't have too many pictures though since I only had my mobile phone. To go for Hajj is embark on a surreal beautiful journey, everyone is so patient, so helpful, so forgiving and so friendly. There's an indescribable atmosphere of brotherhood and togetherness between all Hujjaj, and it's truly moving to see all the strive and hardship some people go through to make Hajj. To make Hajj is to tame yourself, to teach it patience and gratitude. May Allah accept from us all.

After the tough first days of Hajj, the 2nd, 3rd and 4th days of Eid are a time of relaxation, so I naturally went shopping. All along our street were Hujjaj from Africa and Russia selling their goods by the roadside. The Africans; wicker-baskets and trinkets and the Russians; winter clothes - proper winter clothes. They were selling all kinds of leather garments and woolly mittens and hats and jumpers and socks and shawls and the lot. And their things were hand-made and oh so beautiful and warm MashAllah, and at affordable prices too. Obviously what you can see cooking-up down here is very good excuse for buying a whole truck-load of Russian woollies and more woollies, but ah, never mind, worth every penny. Every Russian Penny.

I'm feeling very jumpy today for some reason, like I've swallowed a sackful of Butterflies and they're now flapping around excitedly in my stomach. They call it 'Butterflies' I think. Yes they do. Maybe I just can't wait to get back horse-riding *cough*Mummyreadthis*cough* ehm, maybe I just can't wait to play football again, or maybe it's because my sister decided to spend her holidays in Riyadh, here, with us, again....Nah, that's highly improbable. Actually maybe it's because I keep thinking about University and THAT makes me jumpy, definitely. I just honestly don't know what to expect, am I excited? Nervous? Happy? Sad? Regretful? Excited even more? Jumpy? Yes, everything above and Jumpy, VERY Jumpy.
Back to the point, here go the pictures, and they are NOT in order :

The last day of Hajj, and you can see just how crowded it is.

The mammoth Clock Tower that King Abdullah built besides the 7aram. Honestly, you can see it from the mountains way outside Makkah. It makes Big Ben look like little brother.

Masjid Al-Khaif: An enormous Mosque in Mina.

Makkah (Mecca): I never knew Makkah was in a valley till I took this shot.

The thousands of tents in Mina stretching into the Horizon. In the 2nd shot the rampart to the new train station is visible.

Back to Mina after stoning.

Sleeping rough in Muzdalifah.

In the tents in Arafat, where Hujjaj pray to Allah till sunset.

Anyway, I must make way for you now to go back and fill your precious time with bags of inspirational daftness and sacks of exceptional thick-skulledness.
So au revoir deja vu caviar (My colonisation of the French language here meets its Waterloo).
Take care, Love
Ashworth

Ribbets and 'Orses...

2010-11-08T20:30:00.000+03:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back once again to this most captivating blog. Briefly, we obtained three Rabbits recently. They all seem to be suffering from a particularly strong bleach scrubbing. Very Funny.

I contrived to build them an indoor Night-time hutch, which obviously was a great success. I even introduced a Twelfth-century original feature ramp.

Above are pictures of Isa riding; an Arabian horse if you must. Isa was obviously too jealous of my riding skills and natural horsemanship and so he didn't take any shots of me on horseback...I understand, I understand. Sadly though, We've both completed our courses which means we'll have to register again which means more money which we both don't have because we're broke.

Lastly, I've been burning designs onto my Chessboard borders. The two up there are complete, I'm working on the third. For the fourth and final one, you have a chance to burn your name onto the borders of history. If you come up with a nice design I promise you it'll be my fourth border, I might even write your name on it. You can suggest your design on the comments under, or send it to me at m.y.ashworth@hotmail.com I know, desperate times.

I'm not in the mood to chit-chat tonight.
Love
Ashworth

Sitting tight...

2010-10-26T08:57:00.002+03:00

Dear one and a half readers, I'm suffering from a chronic bout of boredom right now. A chronic round of boredom means you take a full circle round yourself and still find nothing to do, which means obviously nothing to blog about. Honestly, I never thought having nothing to do would be so boring.

Most people would probably wish they had no school, and no exams, and nothing to worry about whatsoever, but trust me, it's no fun. Because life as such loses purpose, it loses that sense of objectivity, and strive and achievement (ehm) and many other things we better not mention.

So I'm sitting at home now asking myself: What shall I do now? 'Erm..erm..YEAH, I think I'll erm...excuse me..just a minute please'. and so this endless cycle continues all long morning.

Evenings get a bit better though Al7amdillah. I go food shopping, I drive to far far places, I go jogging and best of all, I go horse riding. Come to mention it, yesterday I had an eventful horse-ride. You see the trainer is trying to break us into cantering by erm..making us ride a cantering horse (cantering is the stage before galloping, so it's quite a fast one). This being the Middle East, a keen sense of bravado and machoness must be exhibited at all times. That means cantering without helmet or safety gear. Now I'm not particularly fond of injuring myself if I must say, and so I do get a tad nervous. More like bone-shakingly jaw-chatteringly terrified actually.

Anyways, yesterday was my first shot at cantering. Needless to say, it didn't go very well. The horse threw me off three times, and then me and the trainer simultaneously gave up. Now I know it sounds very rodeo-cowboy-WildWest-ish to say 'the horse threw me off three times..Nah, no matter. Nothing big' and it makes me sound like a tough chewy steak, but trust me, it's not a hobby I'd much like to take up. My back is now aching from those falls, but there's no way I'm telling Ummi. She'd ban me from horse riding for life :)

Finally, I still haven't got any shots of me on the horse. Quite a difficult trick that one, since most of the time I'm on the floor besides the horse, flat on my back. But please don't give up 'ope, pretend you're a Chilean Miner and be patient. I'll try videoing my lesson today InshAllah.

Hopscotch Tiddlytum.
Saddle up 'ol boy, sit tight.
Love
Ashworth

Snippets...

2010-10-14T07:31:00.000+03:00

Salam

Dear Dresses and Coats. Following the shambles of my advertising campaign last week, which failed most epicly, I have decided to switch tactics. Ladies and Gentlemen: Laugh, smile, enjoy! It's value for money, don't cost a penny, AND it's funny! Visit www.wittycars.blogspot.com now! Okay, No, this isn't working out, it sounds tacky and cheap, very cheap. That's probably because it is cheap, very cheap, don't cost a penny.

Moving on, I have some news for you. Lots of news for you.
The other day I was driving, or rather being driven very much. I was just clapping myself on the back 'Yeah Muhammad, what a good driver you are. One year driving in Saudi and not a single accident, truly wondiferous!' And then BANG. No it wasn't a crash, it was a speed camera. FLASH, and you get that feeling a lonely hare gets sitting in the middle of the highway when beams suddenly shine on it, that cold feeling of CAUGHT, FREEZE!

Now before I ruin my reputation forever, and forsake redemption in your opinion for the length and breadth of my natural lifespan, let me explain myself.
I was doing TEN Kph above the speed limit, I know that because I checked. TEN. Now usually, if you're doing Ten above the speed limit in Saudi, the police will stop you...for driving too slow. Honestly. It's become part of the cultural heritage of this country to drive well well above the speed limit. Sadly however, this was a speed camera. A device which is such a simpleton, unaware of the proud and rich cultural heritage and traditions we in this country hold dear. And so to my consternation, I was booked.

Never mind however, I'd cover this blot in my proud driving career with erm...a bigger blot. Seething after that simpleton booked me, I could barely hold my reigns. I was exhausted, stressed, tired, thirsty and very very angry. To cut a long story short, or a fast drive very slow, I smacked into the backside of a poor guy's car. He and his wife were NOT impressed. Al7amdillah though he let me off the hook, which was quite a relief.
Let me point out though that there is a certain novelty in crashing into someone for the first time. There's that certain adventurous and lawlessly reckless romantic aroma to it. To say to your mates 'yeah my fault, 100%' just sounds quite macho and, if I must admit, good. (Not to say that you should take to it as a hobby though, NO).
Anyway, I got quite a scolding when I got home and a 'compulsory break' from driving, which ehm..caused me little grief.

Now if you think you know I like driving, then you must know you'd think I love horse-riding, which is very true. I absolutely love and adore horse-riding. You're riding a thing of flesh. a thing of blood and muscle and soul, a thing that feels and has emotions. You're riding something alive! You're riding that majestic beast, that graceful proud beauty! It which has carved-out and felled empires, it which has been the staple of wars for ages, it which has inspired poets and conquered the dunes and deserts of harsh unruly Arabia. It which has that fighting spirit and yet affectionate feeling manner.
A horse is not a dumb machine, it's a loyal spirited beauty. It's not the relationship of master and servant with horse and you, it's that of loyal companions and comrades. Horse-riding is something out of this world, and you got to try it to know it, and feel it and absolutely love it. Anyway, what I was going to tell you is that I've started going horse-riding, tutored lessons of course, worth every panting breath, sweat-drop and penny.

And so we end. I'll upload some photographs next time round InshAllah. Stay wide asleep.
Love
Ashworth

Wittycars...

2010-10-11T08:02:00.002+03:00

Dear readers

To all the car fans out there, the petrol-heads and greasy toes. Welcome to my new blog!
My friend and I opened a blog (wittycars.blogspot.com) doing tongue-in-cheek car reviews. This is obviously nothing to do with money-making, which we don't really care about. We just host Google ads for fun, that's all.

(Oh, and by the bye, you really got to check those ads out, amazing stuff).

To Go is to Be Gone...

2010-10-06T08:31:00.003+03:00

Keeping warm once the temp. drops to 50 C can be a struggle.

Dear you, how are we today? I hope we're fine because they certainly are. Now please, before you pass judgement on me as a mentally-challenged ape, let me explain myself.

I'm in very silly mood right now, which means I can say anything at all without meaning to say it, so be careful.
Al7amdulillah all thanks and praise be to Allah. I have been accepted in 'LMK' university, having passed all their stringent regulations and sleep-depriving exams, and also having passed the sanity exam, which failed to find any logical or sane reason as to why I would want to study in this university. Moving on....Oops, There is a catch though. I won't be coming this week, I'll be coming come February InshAllah. There's some business relating to the application which I'm still not done with, and so you'll have to put up with me for another two months. I know. Me too.

Anyways, to tell you the absolute truth, I did actually want to go in February. That is, until they told me I would be coming February Insha., then I felt like I wanna go NOW. And I kept see-sawing between now and Feb. and now and Feb. until I told myself to shutup and don't talk, which it did quite obligingly.

The reason I want(ed) to go now is that I'm absolutely 'full' of the monotonous and lifeless life(?) that I live here. Now please please don't get me wrong. I love you so much, I do, and I want to stay with you my whole life, but look at it this way. I need a break.

Honestly, I need a big breath of fresh air right now because I'm stressed out and depressed, totally. In Saudi, I drive. It's hot, It's sunny, It's sweaty; I drive. I also eat, a lot. And once or twice a year, I exercise.
The thing about Saudi is that you're trapped inside your house. You can't go out because it's way too hot. If you do go out you'll inevitably end up in a shopping mall without money, and then you'll come home with heat-stroke. Occasionally you manage to get home healthy, in which case you'll be sent out directly again to make sure it wasn't a mistake. The air is absolutely filled with smoke and exhaust and nicotine which burns my eyes, the roads are as jam-packed as an overflowing jar of sardine-jam, and the weather is simply (and quite literally) breathtaking. Good pun.

There's no football either these days. My school friends are too nerdy, my city friends are too busy, there's no where to play anyway, and I'm getting way too fat. And I swear, this lack of football is killing me. I feel like just bursting out and exploding and running and running and charging for mile after mile like love-stricken madman. Alas, I'll probably get heat-stroke half-way down the stairs.

I'm missing a lot right now. I'm missing Ireland's weather, and Ireland's quietude, and Ireland's football, and all my relatives, and Singapore's Public Transport system. I'm missing my life here too as I used to know it, and sitting at home like an ugly warthog doesn't exactly provide an uplifting therapy.

But Al7amdulillah, I'm happy. I prayed isti5ara and so InshAllah this is what's best for me. Had I gone, I would have missed three weeks of study of the foundation year. Usually, this would cause very little commotion within my inner conscience, perturbation would hardly be my description, and life would proceed per usual. This time round however, things are a little different. I need to score a GPA of 3.75 or above to get a 100% tuition fees scholarship. And I want this scholarship, very very badly. So three weeks late would hardly have helped.

I also have many friends - ranging from about three to three & a half - whom I haven't yet given Salams to. So many people dear to my heart, had I rushed off this week, I would have missed ~~all their invitations and great banquets in my honour and all the good food and...~~ them a lot. YES, I would have missed them a lot, sorry, ehm.

And finally (phew..fresh air) I have many plans that would've been jeopardized had I left so soon. I'm still running in the marathon of the impossible chess-set, I'm working on the Beirnes' genealogy (my second cousins), I'm starting horse-riding lessons InshAllah, one of my favourite hobbyistic passions, and i'll be around for my Aunt's tremendous historic visit to Riyadh InshAllah. But most wonderfully, I'll be going for Hajj InshAllah this year, now that's really scale-tipping.

So there you are, completely unabridged uncensored minutes of the thoughts that have been racing round my head since I awoke this morning. Right.

Take care
Put on your brother's seatbelt.
And take off your shoes.
Sit tight.
Love, Ashworth.