1. Physically;

  • fine.
  • sipping iced coffee at 3.30 pm. Still enjoying little happiness working from home.

2. Mentally;

  • healthy
  • planning to watch Oscar's Best Picture this year ; CODA 

3. Visually;

  • pleased watching last night epic duel between Verstappen and Leclerc! Checo snatched the pole position on Saturday while Max only managed to settle at P4 but the table turned and Max got his win at tricky Jeddah Street Circuit. Second double Ferrari podium. They are really bagging it this year!
  • — shocked Italy is out from World Cup again.
  • — watched Pachinko first eps and.... I'm still on the fence. I like Mozasu's character more now than the book though. 
  • followed Oscar's this morning. No Time To Die won Best OST but my girl Kristen Stewart did not get Best Female Actor this time. That smack from Will Smith? Didn't see it coming 👀
  • still reading Honour by Elif Shafak also completing my March Read Challenge with Shoko's Smile.

4. Emotionally;

  • satiated.

5. Secretly;

  • sad because no race this week
  • craving for Seoul Garden 

My Week in Numbers : 12/52


      History has failed us, but no matter. 

💬 Summary 

Yeongdo, Korea 1911
A club-footed, cleft-lipped man marries a fifteen-year-old girl. The couple have one child, their beloved daughter Sunja. When Sunja falls pregnant by a married yakuza, the family face ruin. But then a Christian minister offers a chance of salvation: a new life in Japan as his wife. Following a man he barely knows to a hostile country where she has no friends and no home, Sunja’s salvation is just the beginning of her story. 

A historical multi-generational, family saga exploring the themes of poverty, displacement from war, racial prejudice, women generalization, love and honour, that starts in Korea at the turn of the 20th century and concludes in Japan in 1989. It explores the Korean-Japanese identity and the social and legal discrimination experienced by those with that heritage. 

💟 What I love

If anything, let's start with a word of appreciation for that magnificent oriental cover. This one is for #KoreanMarch themed reading and I thoroughly enjoyed the first part where we're introduced to a poor family who had a daughter named Sunja and her life was so simple. Poor and difficult but that's life. Then things happened, Sunja was taken to Japan where life supposed to be easier but just like my experience while reading this one, it did not work that way.

👀  What I did not love

Good books for me are the ones that made me feel. Sadly this one did not make the cut.

The writing style was very straight forward. It suited the story since overall it was a detached 3rd person telling the narrative of the generations of this family and their lives. But I didn't find the writing to be compelling enough to look forward to picking up the book. If I don't have either amazing characters or plot, I really want an engaging writing, and this was just okay. 

Overall story was fine, I guess  but the storytelling style bore me at times and I just, didn't care for any of the characters though life tortured them hard. I just simply don't care and that's sad... to not to be able to empathize to their pain. There was so much characters were introduced half-cooked and just when I found something to get me at least going into the direction, the thread was cut short. Done. Finished. And that's rude -___-"

Again, it's sad and I feel kind of displaced because this one is so highly praised by many but I can't find love for it. The miniseries will be premiered tomorrow (25th March) let's just hope at least Lee Min Ho would compensate for my woe. 



First of all, allow me to express the vast amount of adoration I have for this piece of art. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, I am a fan. Even it takes some three decades to finally be able to properly digest this gem of literature, I am thankful — nevertheless. 

Those beautifully vivid setting up, melancholic sway of story telling and then my own fatal blow was the moment where the creation met the creator. 

"Remember, that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed" - Frankenstein's Monster

Never I encountered anything describing despair of losing a loved one or the complexities of humane emotion as beautiful as this one. 

“Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.”

To think that this one was written by a woman, in 1818 ands still it lives  thriving and breathed upon till this day. 





Hello there, 
Let's start again. I am Didiey, an ardent rambler — powered by iced coffee. This is none aesthetic zero themed blog but I aspire to dumping stream of thoughts here for keepsake. Content may be personal and as always, nonsensical but still, —a person needs an outlet. So here she is. 

Dids (do) - over

1. Physically;

  • taking care of  positive C19 husband
  • nervous, K1 is starting kindy in April

2. Mentally;

  • in the picture above 💭
  • curating my Ramadhan read 
  • and Ramadhan menu
  • planning my coffee intake, sahur for sure!

3. Visually;

  • watched Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz Jr giving Ferrari 1-2 win in Bahrain GP. Ferrari domination 2022, lfg!
  • — and 83'. Another world-class act by Mr. Ranveer Singh as Kapil Dev — who led India Cricket Team championing World Cup that year. Inspiring, dramatic, sufficiently entertaining
  • read Frankenstein, Mary Shelley (finished)
  • — continuing Circe, Madeline Miller maybe starting My Brilliant Friend, Elena Ferrante

4. Emotionally;

  • stable ✌

5. Secretly;

  • excited for Oscars' for Kristen Stewart and Olivia Colman. 
  • thrifting another 3 books
  • applying on Jobstreet

My Week in Numbers : 11/52


 You are bittersweet.

Bitter. I lost my mother, today – years ago. I did not cry. 

I knew the time would come; it was just a question of when. I don’t want her to suffer any longer – so I prepared myself to let her go – bit by bit – pieces by pieces. I was 3 months pregnant when I received the call from my brother. I was not shocked – I was sad – beyond words, beyond world – but 

I did not cry.

I was at the office when I received the call. It was noon – almost lunch time. Like a blow to my heart, composing every sense that I had – 

I did not cry.

On our journey home from Shah Alam was quiet – not sure what to say, not sure how should I behave. 

I did not cry.

Then my sister’s gaze found mine, she is so little. Barely 14. She lost her mom – whom she spent most of her life with, not in the pinkest of health. She did not cry. 

I did not cry. 

At that moment, we were processing – this strange feeling. Lost. How do we move from here?
So we waited, and waited. Recited Yassin for our mother. We did not cry. Dean’s hand never left me – sometimes holding my hand, sometimes caressing my arm. I looked into his eyes – I saw pity. Bewildered, yes.

I did not cry.

They arrived – my brother’s face, red. Disheveled. He aged 10 years more it seems. His eyes found me, half-running; he hugged me, sobbing something I half-understand. I lulled him back to reality, searching for his eyes –

I whispered, “It’s okay”.

I did not cry.

They asked us to kiss my mother one last time, and I kissed her forehead – like how I used to. I breathed to myself, “It’s okay”. I watched my father tied her white cloth for the last time – 

I did not cry.

Then we are at the cemetery. It was a windy evening. Almost embracing. I bid my last goodbye with my sister tugged in hand. We did not cry – 

I did not cry.

And we live our life…
4 months later –I was alone in the kitchen. 7 months pregnant with Ikan Paten in hands, sobbing uncontrollably into the void. Screaming silently. Howling. Because the realization suddenly hit me, in the guts, no sympathy – I’m going to cook Asam Pedas with an internet aid not by my mother’s instruction and damn, her Asam Pedas is just the best!

Al-Fatihah, Norlida binti Mohamed Idris. You are missed, a little too much.

Sweet. It is my mother in law’s birthday. The best mother in law I could ever imagined. She single-handedly exorcised the horror of in-laws tragedy that I have been hearing before I was married. The one who never treated me like an outsider. The one who always reminds me that I am one of hers too, not just a mere wife to his son. The one who took care of me like a mom herself.

I got the privilege to celebrate & mourn the same day – and I chose to cherish.
7th March, you will forever be my bittersweet day.

Little Letters ; 7 March


Let me just be content with what I have and make peace with what I am. 

Another lap around the sun ☀️


There is something so weird about female friendship I often find. That it is powered by emotions. Sometimes the love is so strong, we are ready to commit homicide. Just tell us the details. We’ll make it looked like accident. Or sometimes it’s fueled by pure envy, like we telling the jeans is cute just to making sure they would look uglier than us.

We sometimes are so territorial about one another we kept on checking whether am I the only best friend my best friend has? One can’t have more than one best friend?

Why? Because we women we feel a lot –thus we confess a lot. We need to lighten the load. And not a day goes by that I did not thank God for my confidante. For I never afraid to talk or to feel when I'm talking to you.

This one right here, she matched my energy. Maybe because I'm the black and she's the pink. Maybe it's about my flying Sagi traits that could calm her vindictive Scorpio's. Honestly we are pole apart but I tell her everything (well, if not – almost) so I don’t have to feel it alone. You know the feeling when you finally rant about your day and let it all out unfiltered, suddenly it doesn’t fell so bad as it seems? You just have to find someone to talk to and laugh about it afterwards.

Sometimes I wonder how my fiction section mind could interest your non-fiction study-on-brain self or how I the romance reader could tolerate you; the romance averse? But opposite attracts and sticks and buzzing together and that is why we are never boring, baby.

Thank you Kins, for your attention. I found myself a gem and may He powered our friendship only with good,blessful fuels. May you have the happiest of days. Semoga sampai tua, kita bersama 💟

Little Letters ; To Kins, with love 💟


I have been staring at my screen for quite some time now, not sure where do I begin. Elif Shafak, I came to know the name when people was talking about her Forty Rules of Love so I googled her. But it took 2 years to finally read her book. Drawn by the title, The Three Daughters of Eve. It felt, befitting at that time. That’s how I always operate on my reading. I picked everything I read on a whim. An emotional reader, after all.

Heavy. That’s what I felt. Through and through. But I need it. Question upon question about God, faith—you can’t simply throw such questions and expected it to be just a simple layer of literature.

💬 Summary 
Peri, a married, wealthy, beautiful Turkish woman, is on her way to a dinner party at a seaside mansion in Istanbul when a beggar snatches her handbag. As she wrests it back, a photograph falls to the ground—an old polaroid of three young women and their university professor. A relic from a past—and a love—Peri had tried desperately to forget.

Over the course of the dinner, and amidst an opulence that is surely ill-begotten, terrorist attacks occur across the city. Competing in Peri’s mind, however, are the memories invoked by her almost-lost polaroid, of the time years earlier when she was sent abroad for the first time, to attend Oxford University. As a young woman there, she had become friends with the charming, adventurous Shirin, a fully assimilated Iranian girl, and Mona, a devout Egyptian-American. Together the three are the Sinner, the Believer, and the Confused. Their arguments about Islam and feminism find focus in the charismatic but controversial Professor Azur, who teaches divinity, but in unorthodox ways. As the terrorist attacks come ever closer, Peri is moved to recall the scandal that tore them all apart.

💟 What I love

— This book also exposes Istanbul, both the city and the conflicts. Between East and West, religious and secular, rich and poor. This one invoked so many emotions in me – I could really relate to this but at some point, detached. It is a thrilling experience indulging in this one. As a Muslim, and a woman – I was deeply resonated by the issues thrown in this book. Where is God? What is God? How – God? 

It almost surreal a book could affect you this much.

I grew a serious love for this book and the author. She has become amongst my favourite author of all time, further cemented after 10 Minutes and 38 Seconds in this Strange World –that, is the story for another day. Being a Muslim woman in this testing time, is proved to be a challenge and Shafak, wrote it all down for me in her beautiful prose. I thank her for that. Safe to say, I’d be collecting her books from now on.

The Three Daughters of Eve