Countdowns

1 month past the inspiring and exciting days of Ubud Writers Festival; 23 days (oh, the coincidence!) past an unexpectedly dreadful end to the long-awaited Bali trip; 13 days past my first yoga class; 1 week past a good friend/colleague's farewell; 3 days past my final project proposal deadline.

12 days to unemployment (being broke isn't something I look forward to, but the longer sleeping hours and, hopefully, enough time to work on my final project writing might compensate for that); 15 days to Aiko's wedding, 23 days to Dad's; 23 days to thanksgiving (and I'm writing this in the sweet memory of last year's thanksgiving dinner which I'm sure will not repeat itself this year); 53 days away from Christmas (a season this city barely celebrates); 60 days away from 2013.

I was hoping to land myself on a comfortable cushion of inner peace and mental clarity by the first day of next year but as far as my eyes can see (through the blur that is my lenses), this thing might need a bit more time making.

This Is a (/an Academic) Low

Sitting heavyhearted in my least favorite corner of the library. Blur's This Is a Low set on loop for dramatic effect. I have brilliantly managed to miss an exam for the first time in my six heavily unideal years of so-called higher-education. What is this? I flip through the pages in my head for answers as a pang of foreign feelings, feelings I cant even put a word on, come crashing in. Having supplied myself with what I thought was the most indifference I could ever have towards anything in life--though with slight hopes of excelling despite--the amount of self-disappointment filling up all four chambers of the heart at once is far beyond what I am prepared for. How low and irresponsible! How undeserving of a bright future! How deeply in denial she is! How she actually gives a shit! And a shitload of shit! Oh!

On a more positive note, I have finally found the right time and context to use this particular 7-word, 28-letter sentence many use to describe profound moments of their lives:

I have never felt anything like it.

Here's to learning something new today. To a self-discovery of some sort.

"Belle, are you ok? You're looking rather pensive." - said the boss (and yes, some call me 'Belle')

I don't know why. Maybe it's because I haven't been taking pictures. Yes. I have not touched a camera in so long. Not that I was ever professionally good at it. But I must admit there is something there, something about the way pictures turn out and how differently it means every time; the different poetry they seem to create on different days. I don't know what this means. I hope it means I'm growing some sort of an artistic liking for absurdity, which would be more than fancy. Muahahaha. Both of my analogue cameras need to to be repaired, which I will. But more importantly, I've been thinking about getting myself a nice pocket camera.

Maybe it's because school started and I'm nowhere closer to enjoying the hours I spend inside those walls. On the contrary, I have started to enjoy work for better reasons. I met new friends. And I mean friends. The kind you can spend time with out of office hours talking for five hours straight about things that, hopefully, matter. Matter enough, at least. The kind of people you can converse with, without groaning in your head. I don't know how these kind of meetings are arranged, but I feel absolutely lucky to have gotten to know them. The kind of people who keep you going, if you know what I mean. I wish i had met them in school. Or those of their kind. School would be more exciting, if not easier.

Maybe it's because I'm starting to over think this whole 'friendship' subject. I just forgot how to go with the flow, you know? What's with going with the flow anyway? The flow is filled with forced laughs, polite smiles, and drama. Not to forget labels, price tags, and the clacking of heels.

Or maybe, I just have weight issues. No, I don't.

P.S. I don't know why I;m writing like this. I recently finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower which is Salinger-inspired and I guess this is some sort of a writing-jetlag phase. Please please don't think I'm a wannabe.

(not) a writer's block

I'm just going to write things in the easiest way possible. No backspace (unless a word is misspelled). No over thinking over sentence construction. No nothing. Because when I think to much, I write nothing. Or so I have learned. But then I wonder about ideas and ways to best convey them. And try to figure out the best way to bring them without over thinking stuff. And I think it is nearly impossible to actually convey an idea without thinking them through (over and over again) in the first place. But as far as this one paragraph goes, I have succeeded. I hope you got the idea.

Times are good when you don't think too much, you see.

Effortless efforts. I seem to have lost that drive.

*grunt*

Is it even normal to cry out of fear? For not having the guts to try on something you've always wanted? Have you ever? Does it happen to make you feel low afterward?

01/01/11

All those failed classes, until we finally did it.

"Finally, chris!" and we high-fived--overwhelmed and ecstatic.



I was there, the first day of the new year.
Many came. Everyone knew you, everyone wanted to let people know they knew you, knew you good, knew you best. Those who didn't know you that well searched their brain for any recollection of a moment of their life that included you in the picture; some could only vaguely remember. Some might have only heard of you from a friend, whether or not that friend knew you, might be a good question. Those who didn't know you, wished they had.

That's what you get, mate, for living up to your name. A friendly friend named Friendly.

Till we high-five again!

Puddle Splash

I'm slipping out of my pair of black classic converse. The cold water stings, sort of. But barefoot is as far as I'll get to be comfortable. Waterproof. And on rainy days, being waterproof is important. It's the best thing to be.

Inhale, exhale, and walk. Head held high.

Tentang Kecewa

Mau coba curhat pakai bahasa Indonesia (yang semoga baik dan semoga benar). Coba pakai saya lagi, karena sudah gede. Memang tidak ada hubungannya.

Kecewa. Rasanya lama gak ketemu dia. Atau belum pernah sama sekali? Bisa jadi. Dari semua hal-hal yang seharusnya mengecewakan dan menyedihkan, rasanya saya belum pernah benar-benar berjumpa dengan si Kecewa ini. Masalah keluarga yang dikira banyak orang menyakiti saya bak dikeroyok massa nyatanya tidak berbekas satu goresan pun. Masalah percintaan yang menyangkut hal-hal yang paling ditakuti orang dalam sebuah hubungan pun berlalu tanpa rasa sakit yang berarti.

Sedih, itu namanya. Sama yang satu itu saya memang sudah berkali-kali berjumpa, berinteraksi, gendong-gendongan, dan lain sebagainya. Kami akrab. Entah memang sial atau itu jalan saya menuju hidup yang utuh. Mungkin sudah terlalu biasa, sampai-sampai mati rasa. Tapi sama si Kecewa, saya anak baru. Masih kaku dan malu-malu. Mau diajak bercanda, takut dia marah.

Kecewa rasanya lucu. Kenapa? Karena saya selalu merasa kedatangannya adalah atas ide brilian saya sendiri. Saya, bermodalkan otak yang lambat (gak ada hubungannya) menipu diri sendiri untuk berpegang pada sesuatu yang kosong. Tanpa diperintah, membangun harapan, lalu sesak napas ketika angin meniupnya pelan tapi pasti. Kepercayaan yang seakan saya obral karena tidak suka lama-lama bermain digenangan masalah, yang kemudian berbalik melukai. Semakin banyak kepercayaan yang terjual, semakin rapuh. Saya dan otak saya menari.

Kecewa itu pahit. Tingkatan terpahit dari semua perasaan negatif yang ada. Menyadari prinsip yang salah, menyadari realita yang 180 derajat berbeda dari apa yang selama ini kita percayai, menyadari perilaku manis yang terbukti hanya kamuflase, menyadari kebodohan diri sendiri, menyadaritidak ada yang bisa kita percaya, menyadari bahwa dalam apa pun dan dimana pun, kita sendiri. Tidak ada orang lain yang patut menerima kepercayaan seutuhnya. Dihantam oleh sesuatu yang tidak kita lihat. Entah apa atau siapa yang membutakan. Mungkin cinta. Mungkin juga bukan. Lagi-lagi, semua berasal dari diri sendiri.

Kecewa mengesankan. Jiwa kreatif yang selama ini saya kira absen rupanya tidak pernah kemana-mana. Apa lagi yang membantu saya mengarang cerita, pemikiran, dan prinsip yang sukses melahirkan hal-hal di atas kalau bukan jiwa kreatif yang berkolaborasi dengan logika-kurang-riset? Hihihi, menyenangkan sekali. Mungkin saya diam-diam mempunyai bakat jadi ilusionis seperti yang baru-baru ini meramal hasil World Cup. Bagaimana tidak, saya akui suka sok meramal dan memperkirakan sendiri hal-hal yang sebenarnya tidak bisa diperkirakan ataupun diramal. Mengintip ramalan zodiac pun tidak. Mengesankan, bukan? :D

Ah, kecewa. Pertemuan pertama yang begitu mengesankan. Si Sedih boleh cemburu, karena saya tidak pernah begitu menghayatinya. Tidak pernah menghabiskan jam-jam selepas tengah malam untuk membuat tulisan khusus tentangnya seperti ini. Mungkin lain kali.

Pretty shoes are for sunny days

These are the days I go to bed in utter discomfort and have my eyes forced open by worry, like a colony of tiny ants marching up my feet and down my head. These are the days the tick and tock of the clock move in such slow unbelievable motions. Almost as if both the hour and minute hand had not the heart to reveal the coming minute and the trouble they hold in their hands. These are the days I think of marrying a bed. These are the days I set iTunes on shuffle, and all it seems to be playing are songs of gloom. Playlist of the depressed. These are the days the letters I type form nothing but vain phrases of a witless. These are the days I feel most unworthy of my dreams. The days my head hang in dark clouds, and when it rains, it rains question marks. The days food cheesecakes lose its significance. The days I go straight to bed and dig right into my food.

And I thought I would lose weight.

The bed is the ultimate friend

Your tears it will absorb and lets it dry without complaints. It does not throw a fit when you jump on it in delirious excitement, as much as it might hurt. Almost like it lightens up in the same level of thrill. It does not insult you of your body, anorexic or obese you. It accepts you, and the weight you may have gained, or some of those you may have lost. It likes you. Always. Hugs you after a long nerve-wrecking day. One of those frustrating days you may hit him in uncontrolable anger. Perhaps even rant in Martian. But it listens, and does no talking back. It stares back at you, the kind of stare that, it if were human, comes with arms wide open. Serenity written all over.

The bed accepts. Respects. Listens.

Any time.

Any day.

If I could only marry a bed.

A lousy advice you might (not) want to take

Tears down her cheeks. Emotions raging, heart pounding, brains on the edge of a nasty burst. With the remaining energy she had, (her last, that would be) she reached for the phone. Her second best friend, she likes to acknowledge it. She was never the expert at befriending a lifeless machine. They don't top the list. Not hers.

08170841334....

The dial tone frustrated her innermost. Dial tones always do. That friendly voice was essential to her sanity and she needed it as soon as it was possible. It was always friendly and happy, it always tries to, anyway. And what other voice does one need to hear?

More dial tones...

And finally, the voice.

"Hey"
"Hey"
"I love you."

Oh God. She had dialed the wrong number. Or so she thought. She went through her phonebook, just in case. It's not like she did not have it memorized, all these years. She went through it anyway, but his number she did not find. She memorized all emergency numbers.

But those words, she did not need. Not tonight.

Tears down her cheeks. Emotions raging, heart pounding, brains on the edge of a nasty burst. Alone she stayed.


Never ever date your best friend. Never. Ever. Ever.

Works all the time

Of course with sprinkles of sincerity here and there. Less denials. More love. No, Buckets of sincerity.

Aliens, are we not?

Sometimes, more often than you think, i wish i spoke your language. I wish one day, i would at least gain the ability to decipher every graceful turn your fingers make when they dance. Maybe then we’d have more to talk about over a glass of stupid beer. Or whatever drinks they fancy in that planet of yours.

Oh. It’s just one of those times.

Now

It has been four days since i got home. the days were long ones.
long, dull and uninspiring ones