Istanbul, Aku Datang (aka, photo spam).

Hashtag throwback.

Soooo, since I have a submission this week and a shitload of work to do at the moment, I've decided to post my pictures from my trip to Istanbul. Yes.

These were taken from the hotel we were staying, called Cafe Halic. The location was great, heart and center in the middle of Istanbul's most infamous old town of Fateh. The hotel was small and quaint, with a narrow spiral staircase, brick walls and arches that were reminiscent of an old castle.

Nestled between a variation of family homes, and family homes-turned-homestay, Cafe Halic was up top sloping hills, where each building jutted out like teeth - or, for a more scenic comparison - like trees, fighting one another for a breath of daylight. Being put up so high, the hotel overlooked the city of Istanbul, with a perfect center piece view of the Galata Tower, which lit up in colors every night.

A view not easily forgotten, it was captured by two of the bedrooms in our apartment, and even from the common dining downstairs. Every breakfast we took in these views over simit, turkish tea, and fresh olives over cheese. Breakfast was my favorite part of each day.

University of Istanbul. Only reason we were here was because Dad was attending a conference. So here he is, standing proudly, boasting his attire. (My album has the most pictures of him, because he kept demanding I would take it almost every 3 steps)

Wonderful view over the city from the Suleymanie mosque. The mosque was so close to us, that to take a shortcut home, we walked through the mosque grounds every day. In my opinion, the best mosque I've seen there. So calm and peaceful, away from too many tourists and their flashing cameras. Here, locals are often seen relaxing under trees reading books. So prits.

Ok. In this picture, where my mom and dad points at the map - this is where some creepy guy came and stared down me and Haida. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating and he didn't exactly "stare us down" but he stood there for a long time without us noticing while me and Haida were joking about some random obscure joke.

Once we did notice, I asked him, 'yes?' and he just continued to stand there, his eyes hidden behind knock-off sunshades. Ugh. Theeeennnn, he went on to talk to my very confused, very lost parents, and lured them into taking a cruise over the Bosphorus.

What I love the most of Istanbul is just how colorful the city is. In our day and age, Istanbul does not exclude itself in the race of technology, but yet, the cobbled stones, and peeling stucco off of rickety buildings are still so full of culture and history, where almost every few blocks there is a mosque or camii. The blares of azan is a norm, and even Friday prayers are performed within the corridors of the Grand Bazaar, spilling out to the streets.

The people here are just as colorful, just upon entering the Grand Bazaar shopkeepers come up to you claiming they know where you're from, and exactly what you want. "Malaysian!!" echo the voices from left and right, "I can tell by your mama!" Must be the tudung sarung thing.

Hugs are often exchanged between men, even giving my dad a surprise every so often. It's such an open environment: Two car gets stuck in the middle of a pedestrian street, and all the nearby locals come by to help, laughing and patting each other on the backs as soon as the mishap is over.

What with tea in their tiny glass round-bottomed cups are served on a tray, which get passed around to the salesmen, from store to store. In hand, practically everybody has a cup of tea! Sharing is so avid here, and I just find that so pretty.

Sigh. I need a vacation, badly.

Rough Patch

Oh. Uh. Hi there, long time no see. Uhh, yeah, ahem.

Welp, for what seems to be most apparent, I am back. For now. Hullo dust mites and tumbleweeds.

It's been so long since I last updated this barren ghost town of a blog, so I guess I shall begin with a bit of.. refreshments? Wait.. that's not the word. Refreshments are what you call the drinks they give you pre or mid event. Hmm. Whatever.

Ok.

So it's also apparent that my writing and grammar has gone to hell. Not that it was any much good to begin with, but.. now it's just out right embarrassing. But again, whatever.

I'm here because I need to, and not merely because I want to (or, because I have submission this upcoming weekend, and I'm finding ways to avoid doing work. But y'all should give me the benefit of the doubt. Heh).

To get straight to the point: I am in semester 7. Meaning I'm in my first semester, of my final year. Also meaning: I have just one more semester (6-8 months or so) until I officially graduate from my degree in architecture. Like, woah, right?

So yada-yada-yada, basically, I feel I'm reaching a somewhat "middle-aged syndrome" point in my pursuit towards achieving this degree (cough piece of paper cough). Ok, so it's not so "middle" since I'm nearing the end already, but hey, you get the drift.

I feel fucked as hell.

Frankly speaking, this semester isn't the worst. Study wise, friend wise, whatever wise - it's been pretty peachy. In fact, all around it's been a pretty good semester so far (despite Nurin not being around, but I manage. Somehow).

But man oh man do I feel some internal fucked up-ness on the inside (yeah, what did I say about my grammar going to hell? Point proven).

Not to bore you with the gory details but just a few hours ago, I was bawling my eyes out under my table in the studio contemplating the purpose of my sole existence.

I simply don't feel I'm any good in this life.

In fact, I don't feel much alive at all.

People all around me are excelling in their hobbies and interests; fulfilling their dreams and wanderlusts. Me, here, I'm just.. stuck. In complete standstill. Unchanging, immobile, lost and uninteresting - boring.

Within me there is nothing. No passion, no goal, no cool beans lovable character. Nothing.

It especially frustrates me when the people closest to me are evolving so much so that the difference between them and I is a stark constrast. People who I used to see as equal to myself, now stand tall on pedestals - while I, uh, I'm still here stuck in the dirt.

I've been alive for a good long 21 years, and lo and behold, I have achieved absolutely nothing. Or that is, for the times I actually do achieve things (if you could call them achievements even), what I presume should be a well deserved lauding, with at least a "hey thanks for that" or "congrats" is just always brushed aside.

It's as if what I do doesn't really ever matter to anyone.

On odd days, I hope to believe that I have talent, or skill, or am blessed with something or another - but for the most times, I'm slapped right right across the cheek with a reminder that I'm just.. well, not.

I used to draw so much as kid and growing up I self-proclaimed that I was somewhat "good" in art. But now, at 21 years old, after endless attempts at trying garner notice, and failing, obviously, I realize: damn, I really just can't do jack shit.

Those who I thought were at par with me in skill are actually making a business out of selling their artwork, and taking commissions. People who I thought were my equal, I realize now, really aren't. They're better than me.

Everyone's somehow better than me. And even if they're not - they are still perceived as better. They get the praise, and recognition, and admiration I will never once get to taste.

Oh, the sweet nectar of being something more than nothing; What a dream I'll never have come true.

Ok ok, yes, I know, I sound like an angst filled teen ranting about things I don't have. And yes, I know that the whole proverb of the grass is always greener on the other side applies - yeah, yeah, I get that.

But goddammit, sometimes.. Ugh, sometimes it just doesn't even feel like there is any grass on my side at all.

Am I just being a selfish ungrateful bitch for saying all this? Most definitely.

Do I regret ranting about my pent up feelings towards this current issue in my blog that no one even bothers to read?

Nnnnnnope.