So fucking jobless

1. I'm not gonna talk about this number. You wouldn't wanna hear a story of someone who can't even remember the last time her parents kissed her, right?

2. One year ago, I was a happier kid than I am today. I have a memory gap of what I was doing one year ago, sorry.

3. Single, and living it wondering if I was ready for a real one.

4. In five years, I will be living alone with a Master degree and with a job so busy I wouldn't have time thinking that I ever had this blog, until forty years later, my grandchildren would find it on Google and read how crazy their grandmother was once upon time.

5. My current goals is to accomplish all the work that I signed up for, to have the power and the strength to do it all without breaking my bones.

6. I'm not proud of the dramas in my life. I keep telling drama queens to STFU while I have a whole bunch of dramas I need to keep for myself.

7. Probably when I saw Coldplay live for the first time. Or when I was introduced to mathlete. Or the day when I last saw him and his smile. Or the day I first landed in Paris. I don't know, let me think about it.

8. Definitely the day when my grandmother and my uncle passed away in less than 24 hours gap. It was devastating. Crying wouldn't even be a solution.

9. I have some close friends. There are a few. But honestly I don't know if they'd think of me as their close friend, but I hope they think as same way I do.

10. Right now, I wanna change the way I think towards everything in life. I do think that I need to be less dramatic and more realistic. The world's a stage, but a good act is one that makes people think it wasn't an act.

11. I think what I'm doing with my life right now is a bit like shaping, building something abstract that I don't know the name of, but at the same time it feels like I'm breaking every piece of little bones in me.

12. Typhus. It sucked big time. It changed almost everything. Heck, maybe everything, really.

13. I'm proud of my friends, my mom, my dad... Most of the time I'm proud of my ability to be alone and not finding it painful to be.

14. I don't know, really. I don't think I have any. But if there's something, it's probably a bracelet I got from my high school best friend when I turned 16. Somehow it just meant a lot to me.

15. My Macbook. Okay, fair enough I didn't buy it, it was my mom. Some pairs of shoes, maybe.

16. He's 20..... Almost.

17. There was this teddy bear that was so old and crummy but I loved so much. Of course, like every other things, it's gone now.

18. I was good in English. And German. And not much else.

19. Maybe a white t-shirt that's so summer-y and I bought it myself a long time ago.

20. Okay, that's it. I was just bored. Sorry for boring you. Kisses and hugs

In another life

In another life, I wouldn't be as depressed as I am today. In another life, everything would be easier. In another life, the sun would shine in deemed light and it wouldn't hurt my eyes nor burn my skin. In another life, I wouldn't have to let go of anything.

She dreamed of paradise

...and I'm going to graduate real soon, buy one way ticket to Rome and work simple jobs there, and I'm going to speak Italian with different dialects they have, and I'm going to learn to make my own pizza and I'm going to eat a lot of gelato and I'm going to soak up the sun at the outdoor cafes near Trevi and I'm going to live in a dusty, yellow-bricked old buildings and I'm going to attend some very loud Italian weddings and I'm going to learn how not to use my diploma and flush them down the toilet and I'm gonna learn how to ride the Vespa and ride it everywhere I go in the city and I'm gonna learn how to make Venetian masks and I'm gonna wear it while at work and I'm gonna fall in love with someone nice and I'm gonna fall madly in love with him but I'm gonna find a way to let go and I'm gonna read Cesare Pavese and I'm gonna read them to a stranger at the cafe and I'm gonna speak with a funny gesture and I'm going to smile a lot and I'm going to collect money until I'm rich enough to buy one way ticket home. I'm going to miss my family and I'm going to hug them real tight as there were no people like them that could kiss my longing away and I'm going to love them more than I ever do and I'm going to make them a delicious pizza and I'm going to write a book about my journey and I'm gonna read it to everyone I know and I'm gonna be reminded as the woman with the dream of paradise.

Science in progress

This is my idea of romantic. This is what I'd like for my story to be...

We spent a long weekend together, meeting through a group of mutual friends. We had an immediate, simple chemistry that trumped how little we had in common. I remember thinking the lack of conversation could have been uncomfortable if it hadn’t been so crystalline, so unbelievably clear to me that this was the most pleasant kind of temporary: a stopgap on the way to other people, places, things. We spent the entire weekend together. He was reading this pint size book for one of his classes. As he read, he underlined a passage and said it had reminded him of me. He read it out loud, shifting his eyes up to find mine and parse my response. I took the book and devoured the petite read that same afternoon. The alternate theories of time and the dreamlike quality to each vignette was romantic. I almost confused my love for the book with feelings for this relative stranger. Almost. The weekend ended and he gave me the book to keep. It remains on my bookshelf 10 years later, underlined in his hand and mine, read and reread.

source

I hate the facts that these words speaks so true of my everyday life

But you just don't see me

It's a truth that people have been secretly hiding, that the true happy people do not look outside the window every now and then, wishing they were somewhere else; wondering what could have been if they weren't to make decisions themselves. It's a truth universally known that decisions are made when we are tired of thinking---and the unhappy people are those with the most tired minds. I look outside my window at every different time of day; at six in the morning when it was grey and depressing, at one in the afternoon when the sun shines too strong for every eyes to see, at four or five during tea time when the ray of light gets weaker; just as much as all the tired people, and at nine in the evening when everybody's home with their loved ones; everybody has come to the place they want to rest their broken bones in. I hate my apartment. The altitude makes me see a lot of things that I cannot have; home, family to come home to, warm home-cooked meal, socialization, city lights. God, I even miss the traffic jam. I like being alone, but maybe, just maybe, not too much. It gets me to think that this is the most expensive price I ever had to pay; for being so stupidly choosing what I had chosen over other options that I had. I didn't have to smile if I don't want to. I didn't have to live alone sixty meters above the ground. I didn't have to do what I'm supposed to be doing right now; I didn't have to sign up for them. I didn't have to choose law school. Everybody knows smiles have to be genuinely from the heart. Everybody knows family home is the best place on earth while you still can't spare your own. Everybody knows no one is gonna care if I didn't sign up for anything. I should know that law school isn't for me; I'm not that dirty, not that tough, not that good in this. Everybody knows if you go to law school in Indonesia, it's not the same as you go to one in the States; only fools think it is. I should know that I wasn't build up to be a lawyer; I didn't think I have to win everything. Heck, I didn't even have to go to college. I could just make my way to wound up in the streets of Rome and be homeless but at least I'm happy. I could just quit school and sign myself up to be a roadie and be unmistakably poor but at least I'd love that. Why did anybody let me choose things for myself? Or maybe, I could just help myself not to read too much Sylvia Plath and teach myself to be depressed. That would've been easier.

"I love you too much, it's not real."

Winter morning, I looked outside the window and there were snow everywhere; snow in the streets, snow in the gardens of rich people who could afford it, snow on cars, snow inside someone's shoes, snow on top of the old man's hat, snow sticking on the old lady's faux fur coat. Walking out of the house will be banned tomorrow, so as soon as I stopped observing the view, I started reading The English Patient and helped myself to drink the finest coffee in the world: basically anything brewed in my grandfather's old coffee maker. It gets so silent it's deafening so I turned on the TV but everything in the world sucks; politics sucks, music sucks, the cartoons suck. So I put on my slippers to avoid the cold wooden floor and come down to the kitchen. Nothing was left in the fridge. I saw cheese but they had fungus. I saw an apple but it's rotten. Hopeless, I went back to my room and try to read a gossip magazine. The gossips got old and boring; the girl getting married on the cover has asked for annulment, she is now single and mingle....with a baby bump. I turned on the radio but the DJ talked so much bullshit it bleeds my brain.I tried the internet, but like the weather outside, it freezes. I called my friends, they're all away on an exotic holiday to places with the best beaches according to Lonely Planet. I tried to read the newspaper, it brings me so much world that it disappoints me all the time; that the world is the way it is today. I came back to bed, roll out my blanket and again closed my eyes; at least in my dream, everything was easier.

Guys.

One busy evening in the dining room.

Dad: God. I forgot which one is my cup of tea.

Me: (standing in the door between my mom's room and the dining) Mom, which one is Dad's cup?

Mom: (not moving, eyes on the video game) The one with teaspoon on it.

Me: The one with the teaspoon on it.

Dad: OK.

Me: (closes the door) Now I know why men need to get married.

Meet me in Euston because I miss you now?

Normalcy isn't her word

What am I supposed to say about Tilda? She is the woman that every girl secretly wants to be: she's a great commercial actress with series of avant-garde movies, dressed by avant-garde designers all the while blessed with the kind of other-worldly beauty so rare that makes her look like an alien. You can tell that you know her from as the icy queen from Narnia, or you might as well be fooled to believe her as a blonde European woman from Russia who speaks and dressed a la Italian in Io Sono L'amore, but who she really is, is a woman with a degree from Cambridge who leads a pretty distinct life you wouldn't understand it at first. She might look so pale it's like seeing a dead body, and maybe she is so weird it's hard to guess why she does what she's doing, but that's what happens to artists; whatever they do, they do it for the sake of art. If Florence Welch is the love child between music and fashion, then if fashion has a mistress called movie, their love child would be named Tilda Swinton. I just love the way she dressed, the way she speaks and carries herself to the public, and most of all the projects she chose... It's hard to label her whether commercial or avant-garde. It's so hard to describe Tilda Swinton.