Finding Arien

I don't know if 22 years is a long enough time to figure out who someone really is, but I think that I lost the me that I had been in the past 21 years and for a whole year long I've been trying to find if she is indeed still in there; there, in my heart and mind.

Because sometimes it's so easy to remember who you really are, and to lose yourself when you think you were going somewhere.

I like to consider myself a writer; at least to myself, because I know that most of my writings are for my sole consumption and they were never meant to be anything more than that anyway. I like to write about life and its problems. I like to write about love, when I happen to have something to say about it. Most of all, I like to write fiction, because that's where the life is. One day, you will be surprised that sometimes there's more truth in a fiction than there is in someone's life story.

But a writer writes, and most recently, I don't.

Not because I don't have time or I have a writer's block.

It was more like because I stopped caring. Because I stopped having things to say---things to write about.

It's like I stopped feeling feelings.

Have you ever tried to look back in time and see the stuffs you've said (or written/tweeted/posted) and think, "I did that? Really?" Mostly, at the same time I'd shamefully think, "What was I thinking??!" and then try to excuse myself that I was just a teenager, I was (probably) unstable emotionally, or it was just PMS talking. But these days, whenever I try to look back, mostly what came up to mind was this one depressing question---one that I share with you because I wish that you're not wondering the same thing I do---"Where had the girl who wrote this gone?"

Because if you're not, please know that it is such privilege to not have let go of your preferred version of yourself.

Adulthood

Hey everyone, how's life? Or even better, how's adulthood?

Personally, it's crazy. It's been a constant roller coaster between paying the bills, taxes, saving up money for future plans, making a living and keeping friends close. This is exactly the things adults never tell kids to enhance those 'I can't wait to grow up' sayings. This is, in part, a great set up.

I realized that I haven't been here for over a month and by God, I miss you guys! *sigh. I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this page. I don't even care. In part because I write for myself, and another part because I'm not writing so that my voice is heard. I'm writing so that I could let some of these words and ideas constantly grilling inside my head made their way into the world.

So, how's adulthood? 

I do hope that at least one of you finds it enjoyable, because personally, I think adulthood is tricky. It's exciting, yes. But it's not as exciting when every payday it just reminds you that you have bills to pay. You have to save up and invest in something. You have to pay the taxes (this guy is the necessary evil, I'm telling you). You have to make sure that you have time for your family, for your friends, your lover............or lack thereof. 

Yes, sometimes I'm contemplating my own state of adulthood and I just end up thinking, "It would've been a lot easier if I had found someone with whom I will spend the rest of my life with." You know, because then, figuring out how my future would look like is going to be easier. 

But you know what, I kind of hate myself for that (yeah, I know I hate myself a lot already). I hate that I think I need someone to define my future when my future is mine, and it doesn't have to depend on anybody else. I may get married someday, but who or what my husband is doesn't have to define who or what I am as my own person. I may be a woman, but my life is not less a life than my husband's.

You might be thinking, is she a feminist? Well, it's quiet a phenomenal word right now, and sometimes it's been taken out of context. I'm not proclaiming myself one because as much as I believe in women's rights (whatever it is that real feminists tell you), I do enjoy being a woman in a man's man's world. Just the other day, I was in a situation where my being a woman proved as an advantage in a place where the male bureaucrats rarely see a woman wearing lipstick. I know, even that is a sign that women aren't being treated the same as men and it's probably even degrading in a sense. But you see, sometimes feminism isn't about gender equality. In more than one occasion, it's about indulging in privileges. So maybe, in a sense, I am a feminist.

What I'm trying to tell you, I guess, is this: Adulthood is about knowing who you are. It's not too late to find out who you are. No. We'll never know if we're actually late bloomers. But knowing who you are helps. Knowing who you are lessens your worries and saves you a lot of time. Knowing who you are makes you actually look age appropriate---adult. Knowing who you are is good. Because even if you are one day proven to be wrong about who you think you are, at least you had a good start.

Cold Weather

This holiday post has been long overdue--I know, not that I intended to--and it's even started to smell like spring somewhere (where?) But I owe you this in a way. I've been gone, and when I came back, I felt like writing a lot of sad and melancholic posts instead of sharing some bits of my holiday to you... Where were my manners?!

So, yes, I went to the US of A, as you've probably heard people whispered. It was more for the Christmas rather than New Year's Eve, as I didn't even get a proper new year celebration this year. It all started from the East Coast, which meant that I could play Taylor Swift's Welcome To New York a couple hundred times and felt her excitement about the city *cue T-Swift new album on the stereo*

What do I think about New York? Well, try what don't I think about New York! You know how I always have this life-long fascination towards London? Well, it hardly compared to how excited I am about New York City. Every street, every building, every monument, seem to mean something for me, the ever-crazy fangirl of rom-coms based in New York. Empire State Building will always be Sleepless in Seattle, and Bryant Park in winter will forever look like the witness of Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack's impossibly cute love story in Serendipity. It's so interesting. So wild. And I couldn't seem to catch my breath with every city's landmark passed before me.

I love East Coast for how it feels like the laid-back Europe that it is, but I strongly hate the climate. Like normal winters, it was constantly dark and bitter cold there--not to mention in danger of rain and possibly snow. I have terribly dry and flaky facial skin even at home in Indonesia, so could you imagine how wonderful it would be staying in the East Coast for me?! Well, luckily, I was smart enough to visit Sephora on my first day in New York, and the BA generously put me on a proper winter skincare regime that I learned to grasp quickly. She used (of course) very expensive stuffs, but I ran to CVS immediately and get my own version of the products that helped. As a result, when everyone in the tour complained about how flaky their lips and skin became, I didn't experience the same thing (even though I couldn't do anything about my frizzy hair, I'm just glad it's still kind of short) I did, however, complain about how I catch a cold and could not stop sneezing and coughing.

In that sense, I owe a huge gratitude to Josie Maran Argan Oil Light, Clinique Moisture Surge Extended Thirst Relief moisturizer (A gel formula that my skin drinks like serum. This is basically magic to my dry skin!) Aveeno 24 Hour Moisturising Lotion for my body (because I'm an idiot for taking super-long hot showers as it dried my skin even more) and at night time, I practically slathered myself in Egyptian Magic Cream. Oh, and Cherry Chapstick all throughout the day. I bought it originally because of that Katy Perry song (I know, I'm so cliche) but then surprised at how awesome it is at $2!!!!! Sometimes I long for the day my local beauty brands back home could be so cheap and work so well at the same time.

Compared to the first leg of the trip where I spent my days and nights trying to bundle myself up in so much layers and inhaling faux fur from my angora shawl, my West Coast trip was so much better. I can't believe how bitter it is to swallow up the pride that I had several years ago when I told everyone that I'd never been interested to go to LA because it's so shallow and pop and plastic... Well, the younger-than-21-years-old me knows nothing, my friend. Because the 21-year-old me definitely thought that LA is really nice. A really nice place to be--if not live. I took this picture in front of the Tiffany & Co. Beverly Hills Golden Triangle as an aspiration, because, why not? Maybe 40-year-old me would've been able to wear one of his designs on my finger, who knows? (Amen to that, please)

Now, I may be 21 years old, and have been to all of the Disneyland theme parks in the world (well not really, never been to Orlando yet, but, in the American continent) and knows full well of the tricks to be able to enjoy the rides better (Single Rider lines, Fast Pass tickets before everything, early lunch, etc.) but I'm still so excited about it mainly because of the new characters added to their festivities. I spent the entire Christmas Day in Disneyland fighting the cold wind despite sunlight (thanks, Cali winter) yelling at Olaf balloons and whining about the long queues at photo sessions with Elsa and Anna. I got myself an Olaf plush doll (because I collect plush dolls, in case you didn't know) and a Maleficent headband. I think I scared off some kids while wearing it all day, because I saw some little girls look at me nervously as if I was an evil stepmother. Well guess what, little girls? The older you get, the more you'd understand how Maleficent is the closest thing to real-human experience Disney has ever made. And they call me an awful big sister because I tell the truth. *sigh*

The highlight of my LA trip, though, is the Universal City. THIS IS AS SHALLOW AS LA GETS, AMIRITE?

Well, sure. But as a Hollywood enthusiast, life cannot get any better than a visit to the Universal City and getting on that Studio Tour ride hosted by Jimmy Fallon. Yes, he is my ideal kind of husband, but that is not why I love Universal City. I love it because of the diversity of its characters--you can practically see Bart Simpsons walk around Megatron and Minions side-by-side and not feel weird about it. The day I came to Universal City was what the Brits call 'Boxing Day', which is the day after Christmas, and The Mindy Project was shooting that day. Of course I didn't get to see my long-lost Indian big sister Mindy Kaling, but I went passed Stage 27, where they were filming, and I was hysterical. Not really proud of the way I acted that day, but, that was my experience, and I thought I'd share it with you because I know you guys accept me just the way I am and I really love you for that *smooches*

Okay, so this post isn't complete without sharing my thoughts about Las Vegas. I admit that I'm not really a wild soul, and it wasn't like I get to do anything crazy because I was there with my family, but I think I wouldn't enjoy it too much anyway even though I wasn't. Maybe it's just me hating the sticky casino air thick with alcohol and cigarette smoke everywhere I go, but I'm just not into a place where it's constantly evolving in such materialistic way. I didn't really enjoy Dubai, didn't love Vegas, and I suspect I wouldn't enjoy Macau that much (but, what do I know? I was wrong about LA)

Another bucket list ticked off during my trip: GRAND CANYON! (The other one is Disneyland, because it's been an obsession of mine to visit every single Disneyland in all the continents in the world)

The Grand Canyon is a magnificent work of art that clearly wasn't man-made. It's not rocket science for me to believe in the Higher Power while I was here; in fact, it was rather very spiritual to be there. There's a lot of Native Americans working here, which I think is quiet nice of them to acknowledge their existence rather than shoving them off out of the picture. It's hot topic to be talking about racial discrimination these days, but I liked what I see here---and the fact that there was just so many Chinese tourists coming to the US was overwhelming. I mean, wasn't there extreme poverty in China just a few years ago?? Now they massively travel to the US wearing the latest Marc Jacobs coat?? What a great nation it is. 

Okay, so you probably wanna ask me, which city do I like the most? Well, I'm kind of sad to announce that it had to be the last city that I visited that was my favourite. Do you know how my heart beats for London? Well, it beats almost the same way while I was in San Francisco. Better weather, though. Even though it can be foggy and terribly windy, at least it's not constantly under the threat of wet rains everyday. It's really, really nice to be here. They charge you for every shopping bags you need, but at least they have lower tax than New York. I like how open to LGBT Frisco is, with rainbow flags proudly present in many houses and buildings around the city, and, oh, those steep roads... It can be quiet an exercise just strolling around the shops at Union Square. 

And that selfie above, taken right in the middle of the Union Square's infamous Christmas tree on my last day of the holiday, is how much I am willing to ridicule myself to take a bare-faced selfie. I never let myself go bare-faced in the winter because I will look homeless, so I swore by my Sephora Cream Lip Stain in Always Red or my trustworthy pinky coral MAC LE Archie lipstick in Betty Bright (on a bad day, it makes me look like Nicki Minaj, though, so I'm not always so fond of it). Also, I learned to put some colour on my cheeks to look more alive because winter skin could look so dull (and mind you, I'm MAC NC30). So you see, it was a worthwhile experience to be in this winter holiday, beauty-wise, even though it left me longing to stay in that kind of weather, because it never let my face shiny so much.

Now, it's no longer time for me to keep talking about such an ancient holiday story (I've even used up that Josie Maran organ oil because I love it so much and I'm so galau where I could repurchase it). In case you skipped this post all the way to this end, I would like to sum it for you: if you only got a limited time, spend it in SF. I'll leave you with the view from the Peak Point, and I dare you not to swear you'd go there someday the second you have the chance. 

Forward

I always consider myself a lucky person. And sometimes, when you're lucky, good things happen to you. And sometimes, when one good things happen, others will follow, so sometimes you will be so overwhelmed with so many good things that you either, a) forget that it's only temporary, or b) you get scared because you start to believe that too much of good things can kill you. No, really. Sugar, for example.

At the start of this year, that's what happened to me. A bit of both, actually. Things started to change course a little while ago, and I can't believe that I'm particularly glad that it did. Because too much sugar can kill, so a little bit of sour and bitter may be good for me, you know?

I like that it did. I like that now my life is pretty much in the normal, balanced pH (it's very good when it's in a product you use on certain parts of your skin), so I believe it must be good. I like that I feel like life is talking to me. Mostly, I like that life reminds me that just when I think I've seen it all, like I've had it all, life can still surprises me. 

Had I stayed where I had been, on my throne much more beautiful than the infamous Iron Throne, I probably won't have this wisdom. I probably won't be able to speak in this manner; the manner of someone who's finally been where people have been. I like the fact that I'm back to land on my own two feet, and having a life realistic enough for people to let me be. I'm glad that I would no longer be the cocky version of myself that some people (including me) would find extremely obnoxious. Because as much as I would like to be back there again someday, I... would prefer to work my way around it, rather than relying on luck. Because even though I believe in luck as a grand factor that can define our lives, it can only get you so far. When you're too overwhelmed in it, you'll drown. And before you lose your ability to swim and float, you gotta go back to the land and walk on it. Because that's how the history always teaches us. Explorers walk (or sail on ships, whatever); they don't swim and drown.

Preachy Writer on a Sunday

In a matter of a few weeks, I'm turning legally 21! Exciteddd.

So, before you proceed with reading, let me first warn you that this is one of those occasions where I'm going to be very preachy and talk a bit too much. So if you end up reading anyway, and you'll find that it's taking my tendency to be annoying to a whole new level, I'm just gonna tell you: told you so.

I've longed for the day when any parental consent is no longer required regardless of my actions. I always say I could not wait to grow up; which in part is true, because even though adulthood is scary, and complicated, and constantly nerve-racking, I always think that it is better to be more mature than who you really are than to stay being a kid forever. Because at the end of the day, cuteness ain't gonna pay the bills, honey! (Except if you marry rich, though. But that's not a privilege everybody has, because apparently, not everyone is an investment banker anyway, so.)

Well, not that I'm planning to do anything particularly 'adult', anyway. I've just been waiting for when whatever I say or do is no longer what people would take as a matter of immature whims. I'm probably still gonna make mistake and immature decisions, but at least with being absolutely legal, I can tell everyone that I was legal, and it was my decision, and tell them to back the hell off because it's my life.

I'm writing this post and shamelessly putting my heavily-edited office selfie for one reason and one only: I want to remind you all that, yeah, childhood is comfortable and nice and great, especially for us who were born outside of a war zone and blissfully to a loving family. But before you know it, there will come a day when you're going to wake up at 5 in the morning every weekdays (and some weekends too, perhaps) and pull yourself together, put on some make up, wear some decent (and appropriate) shirt and its combinations that could help you to look like you're taking yourself seriously, and just go to work. At the same station, doing the mostly similar paperworks, with the same regular people and blah blah. Oh, isn't life such a repetition, you might ask? Well, of course it is. 

And you might think that you're too young for this (as I still do), but there is no such thing as starting out too early. Our youth is the best time to start struggling with work; oh you know, long hours of sitting at the same desk, staring at the same computer screen, and making sure that you won't go insolvent by the end of the month just because online stores are your only kind of refreshments during lunchtime. But being young is also the right time to be ambitious---thanks to so much energy and the endless under-appreciation from senior co-workers---it is the time to prove yourself and be very, very selfish and ignorant, and all-around obnoxious, because you have to do yourself a favour and no one is gonna take you seriously if you are the same fun and humble person as you are with your closest peers. 

Awful, huh? Yeah, well... There are other options, really. You don't have to do what I'm doing. I guess I could take other options too, if I intended to. But as Kazuo Ishiguro once said, "There is another life that I might have had. But I'm having this one." I chose to choose it before it chooses me. Before it takes over my life. And before I'm going to start speaking about it with a hint of regret in my voice.

Inspired by True Stories

Someone asked me very recently about my writing. They asked about the muse behind some posts I've written before, and whether there's only one muse behind all of the sad love posts or if some were about someone and some were about others.

I have to say that I've been inconsistent about who my muse was. It's not always about me; plenty of times it's someone else's story. They're definitely the people I know or met somewhere, they're real; but my brain is so fond of constantly making scripts that never happened in real life so I decided to write some of them here. But I do have one muse who was always behind my most favourite posts, and I called him by the name mathlete. 

End of the year SALE! Lol. Just kidding. I mean Reflections.

How would you tell your kids how your 2012 went? Mine would go like this:

Kids, the year 2012 was the year when I turned 19. It was the year of everything One Direction and all that other boybands and annoying Indonesia girlbands. Palestine became a member of the UN, which is surprisingly not bigger than a party in the USA. Obama was elected as president again, and I was overjoyed because that means I would see more and more of Michelle! It was the year of me having so, so much fun. Somehow. I turned 19 in a karaoke room full of really fun people from my mooting team. I met people and became close with them, without ever been friends before. And people, God forbid, they fell in this stupid shit they invent called the Friendzone way too many times, it's so damn confusing! I mean, why? I used to tell them NOT to be like those characters in Gossip Girl or Friends, where they can sleep with their best friend and break up and still talk to them about their new squeeze. They seem heartless and inhumane to me. But screw that. That's one of my biggest regrets this year, because, who am I to tell them that? Love comes to people in all the different fashions. Some people met in a cafe, in a bar, a strip club, and some perhaps in a library, through a friend, so it shouldn't be a sin to marry your best friend, right? And also in this year, there were things that happen through your transition to be a grown up. They were tiring and really bothers you, but they were necessary to make what I have now, happen. Like the broken friendship. The heartache. The love that was so confusing it hurts. The beautiful holidays. All the small obstacles that hit me on the face multiple times, they helped making this year a landmark for me. But another thing that should make me proud is the fact that I survived the overhyped doomsday that turns out to be a hoax. And I like that. I like this year. I want more of something like this, or even better, in 2013.

The Person Behind The Mask

Sometimes I think I know you so well. I know you're this cheerful, witty and constantly off the wall kind of person. And when you're being that, it makes me feel happy because you are, well, happy. Your life is so full of colors that's bright and shiny. But then you could've just showed me another side of you—the you who's profound, grim, deep and thoughtful. The you that's the complete opposite of who I thought you are. The you that's dark, as if I thought you were a sunny day in Maui while deep inside, you're a cold, cloudy dusk in snowy Greenland. And that's when I feel sad, because... Because I feel like I was wrong about you. Like all these times I spent trying to get to know you, figuring out what you are and what you're not, was a waste of time.

But it's true what they say, that before you judge on people, you have to be strong enough and make a fair play: judge yourself first. And the judgement came, and truth is, I'm a lot like that, in a lot of ways.

A lot of people thought of me as this person who don't get sad over anything. They thought I'm one of those person who has a smile available all the time. They thought I was only capable of being lighthearted and cheery. They didn't expect me to be able to write about things I write here, because they didn't even know that I have certain parts of the brain that allows me to have a depth. It's because I seem to be shallow all the time, I know. And perhaps the big reason for that is because I let myself to be like that. But I didn't mean to hide the me that have some kind of depth—the me that feels, rather than smile and make a joke about it. I wouldn't rather let people think I'm cheerful than grimy, no. I'd rather let people have their opinions about me, and when they found something that didn't meet their expectations about it, they'd be surprised. I'd prefer that storyline.

You see, maybe that's exactly what you wanna do. You want to surprise people. You want the universe to surprise people, rather than putting on an effort in order to let people know who you are, and what you are capable of. Because whether I do it unconsciously or not, that's what I do. And that's what I want, I don't wanna be blamed for that. So, I don't blame you. In fact, I like that about you. I like people who surprises people without even trying. 

So you see, each one of us hides a personality that didn't seem to fit; one that didn't seem likely for us to have simply because they say, "That's so not you." Sure, each one of us has a personality traits that can describe us individually. But I believe that everyone has more than one personality, and therefore everyone shouldn't be described in only one adjective. Because chances are, that one girl who always seems to be so serious, is indeed a comic writer, or a party animal at night. And perhaps that one guy who's childish and funny and humorous, is a serious thinker; the brain behind the propaganda. It's not a double personality disorder, it's just depth.  

An Open Letter to My Virtual Insanity Partner

Hey, you

You know, like I know, that we haven't seen each other for a while. We haven't had a lot of chances to accidentally bump into each other and feel like we're so meant to be. I know that we tried. You tried, and I tried, but it didn't really mean a lot to our friendship. And sometimes I'm sad because I thought we're done, but then we made it; we met, and, we're reminded of the reason why we're perfect buddies: Because with each other, we just feel better.

A lot of the things in life have made me bitter. There's no bigger tragedy of a human being that keep on living, getting older and made bitter by so many things we've witnessed just before our eyes. So many people around me, and not a single one of them made me feel safe about telling my stories; what makes the kind of person that I am today, and where I came from, why I do the things I do, how I deal with things... They didn't know, because they don't deserve to.

But you're different. You make me feel safe. You don't judge me. Or at least your judgements are as insane as I can take, and I appreciate them all. You're just as messed up as I am. You're the same terrible person that I really am, though you don't even try to hide it. You'd rather be seen as you; the intimidating person who speaks your mind than the way people see me: someone who's nice, because I bury my words inside of me and let them kill me.

You're screwed. You're fucked up. But guess what? Me too. And when I tell you my stories, you tell me yours and I feel better. Not because I'm dancing over your misery, but more because I feel like I'm not alone in this depression. You had it too--worse, sometimes. And you're still this cool person who I looked up to. We're very similar in a lot of ways; and in that manner, I feel safe. You know exactly what I feel, because you've been there, and I can learn from you. And at the same time, you can talk to me. I don't spill stories about you. I don't judge you, no matter how insane you are. And I listen. I listen because I'm learning from you. And I know I'm who I am today because of you.

You're my Samantha meets Miranda. And I'm your Carrie meets Charlotte. We're a full team, just the two of us.

Someday we'll be like we used to be. Someday we'll be old and hopefully still equally fun... less fucked up. Someday we'll be a better team. And until that time, you're still the biscuits to my English tea.

Yours truly,

Me.

So many choices, but they're all disappointments

Science teaches us that in times of sadness or upsetting situations, eat chocolate. Because chocolate has some kind of chemicals in it that would make you happy. Despite whether or not it's true, I always eat chocolate when those kind of moods coming and at least that way I can suggest myself to be happy. Because unhappiness is sometimes unbearable. Because unhappiness leads to depression, and depression is not cool. It's the most selfish psychological situation because it makes you only think about you and yourself, like you're the most miserable person in the whole of universe. Unhappiness is hard. You try to give yourself suggestion that, "This too shall pass." "You'll be alright. Everything will be alright." "People has had it worse." But guess what, it doesn't make you feel any better. Giving yourself suggestion that the end will be a happy ending is not gonna make you less of the miserable being that you are right now, because you can't see the ending, and you can't even believe if it's going to end someday, somewhat, somehow. Sometimes when there's too much, I just wanna cry. Really, it would've been much easier if I could just cry all over it but even that kind of cheesy thing, I can't do. Girls like me believe that crying would make you feel better. At least crying would put you in sleep and tuck you in to your comfy blankets, very unlike my worries. Actually, maybe the world isn't so mean. Maybe it's just me being hormonal teenagers and it's just my teen angst. Maybe it's not a series of disappointments. And yes, I'll be fine. I remember that I've sort of felt the same way before, and I came out of it just fine, happy. But like every other depression, somehow I think this time I just got it worse than ever. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's just part of growing up. And yes, I'll always be fine. 

They can't take what's ours

I can't believe that today, well, it's 1 in the morning, so let's just say tomorrow, will be the last chance that I will ever claim you someone I know, someone I can claim as somehow related to me. I don't know why I can't sleep or think straight, I can't read my textbooks without thinking about how big tomorrow will be. I know I shouldn't. Learning from past experiences, the days that I expected the most will be the most anticlimactic day ever. But I just can't help it. Anyway, I never learn. That's just one thing you gotta know about me. You know what, it took me a very long time to realize that it might real. I was always in denial; and I'm getting even better at it. It's not healthy, but that's what I do. I'm in denial even when I don't need to. I've got a really good self-defense, that I just simply don't let things happen to me. But for you, I let my guard down. It's too late, but... this is the only thing I can do. My only regret is not because it's too late. My only regret is that I couldn't find out from much earlier, while there was still plenty of time. Now the time is running out, and I still can't find a way to do it, and... it's all useless. I don't know why I always do this. I don't know why it was always someone who has to go. But that's my issue, so you don't really have to mind. But really, there's only one thing you need to know: I do, and I did have the courage but my another issue is that my self-defense always get in the way. I feel sorry for myself that there are days when I woke up in the morning and I just thought of something, and I trusted them too much. I didn't think that maybe it was a half-conscious mind speaking, and I was stupid for believing in it. I know you're not gonna read this, but I hope someday you will be able to know that I do, and I was stupid, and I regret it. I wish you well. I wish you well. I hope it's not our farewell.

"Dexter, I love you so much. So, so much, and I probably always will. I just don't like you anymore. I'm sorry."

— David Nicholls

To be comfortable in pain

You cannot waste your youth just sitting in a room scrolling on Tumblr, because it's not worth it. I learned that now. You need to get out there, each of every day, and see what life has to do to you. Like take your handbag away from you, for example. Or make you yell right on your friend's nose because you're just so mad and stressed and disappointed. I don't even know why I'm writing this, I guess I'm just bored, and writing is always the best thing I can do. It prevents me from drinking, smoking, or calling people by the names. It reduces the amount of bad karma that I get from excessive amount of gossiping and swearing. Life is supposed to make you feel.

This is my definition of a new year. The biggest task I gotta do is done, I cut my hair off and I lost so much things all in five days. It's a lot to feel, and I just cannot feel more alive. Yes, I'm sad and happy and miserable and weak, but I know I'm alive.

“But I don’t believe that life is supposed to make you feel good, or to make you feel miserable either. Life is just supposed to make you feel.”

—	Gloria Naylor

I kinda hate myself, too

2011 was a rough year for me. Sure, I had a lot of fun, and at least I didn't have to lay in bed for one month due to typhus, but there was just so much drama and dilemma and problem and stuffs that I just can't mention it. Stuffs that unfortunately now I know what it feels like. I can remember every single bitter truths that happen, and I just do, even though I wish I don't. This year made me too busy to even think of a resolution for 2012. There was a lot of sweat and energy used to make this one of my most productive years so far, but I grew tired from it. The only thing that makes me happy about this new year is that, lots of people come and go, but I still have a bunch of people who stay and they're the ones who made me get out of these things alive. I'm really thankful that I didn't have to do it all alone. I'm also thankful that I feel like I have made a huge deal with my insecurities because they're probably still around here somewhere, but I'm getting better at handling it day by day, just like I feel like my dramas made me grow up a little bit more each day. I learned a lot about myself as I'm turning 18, and most of the facts make me sad, but at least I know there are some people who still love me despite my characteristics that make myself sad. I guess what I have to learn for next year is that I cannot be the one who look down on myself; it's one thing to be modest and down-to-earth, but it's another thing to always feel small among others and make myself hate myself. I spent a lot of my times in 2011 thinking about the one that got away, about what could have been if, and I look outside the window almost all the time, wondering what I would've done if I weren't here... wondering if I could do it in another life.

Anyway, let the past be the past. This year's problems didn't kill you? Well, you know you're fine.

Happy new year, fellas. I know you're gonna enjoy it.

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

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.

Pardon My French

Such a teenager that I am, I'm sorry for being rather rude and offensive lately. I'm sorry for making you hear my French, I didn't mean to make your life seem like a sexless, potless and therefore lame, episode of Skins. I'm so sorry. You were right. Hate in my heart is gonna consume me too. And the cure to hate is probably... growing up, and realizing that not everything will work out the way I want it to be, that such a happy, smooth life was just a theory, because I read too many fairy tales and watch too many romantic comedies. Short story, I've been such a fool for believing in genuine lies. So thank you for sticking up with me. I love you, perhaps bigger than how much you love me.

This time last year

I can't believe it's almost another Eid holiday! Happy Holiday you magnificent people out there!

Last year, I spent the Eid's eve in Galeries de La Fayette in Paris, and the Eid day at Eurodisney. This year I'm staying home, doing chores and trying my best to be a good daughter and granddaughter. Which one is better? Well, this year is better. Europe (in general) or Paris (in particular) was no good to spend the Eid holiday in. It will be great for Christmas or New Year's Ever or other holidays, but Eid should be celebrated right here, at home, in Indonesia. I have heard a lot of people's experiences that even in Saudi, Eid isn't celebrated the way we Indonesians celebrate it. They just don't make it the kind of wonderful festivities as we do, there's no such joy in their Eid celebrations. Last year, I had to practice my Eid shalat at my hotel a little on the outskirts of Paris near Charles de Gaulle airport. And it was boo-ring. There was no ketupat and the other foods that just get along with it, there was no other family and there was no new clothes though we did do some shopping. There was only croissant, croissant, et croissant, merci beaucoup. My Parisian hotel wasn't exactly how you'd imagine it would be, there was no proper French cuisine available and even though they did serve that kind of food, it would probably be so horrible even the French themselves can't stand it. In fact, my Parisian hotel was the worst in all the hotels I'd stayed the night in during that trip. (It's probably true that Parisians are... well, Parisian, and when it comes to hotel you have to give it to the Swiss because my Swiss hotel was extraordinaire) Back then, it was September and for some poor little Asian girl like me it was pretty cold that I had to hide my new clothes beneath my usual brown coat and shawl. It was not a cool Eid style, I have to say. But it was Paris through and through, so there was not much I can complain. Galeries de La Fayette, to me, is your usual upscale department stores with the latest Parisian fashion. In fact, I think it would be much more thrilling if in Paris we get to shop in Champs-Elysées instead of a typical mall that's full of Asian tourists queueing for tax refund. And Eurodisney, it was so small and them being French, I don't think that they have done something to improve or expand it so it was another boring day for me too.

This year, though, I'm looking forward to the excitement I'm really familiar with. Eid is a holiday; it should be joyful and exciting, though slightly boring. I will wish you a very happy Eid Mubarak, and for now, let's just be thankful that I'm home and I will celebrate it close from home.

Half Evaluation

I'm currently reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, which at first was rather difficult for me because Plath was originally a poet and I can say the book started off as being so poetic and dramatic it was not like reading a novel at all. At the moment I've come to half of the book, I just realized how much I can relate to Esther Greenwood and most of her thoughts and the world around her. It's scary sometimes because it's like Sylvia Plath could read into my mind long before I was even born and put those thoughts on Esther. I'm not as depressed as her, though yes, I found several things in life to be sort of depressing. But like her, I enjoy writing and I like the fact that she got a chance to work at a woman's magazine, and the fact that she has someone like Buddy Willard in her life (This is where I'm so not Esther. Buddy is a med student and a handsome, charming, Yale guy. I would forgive him for the fact that he's not as pure as I am) and painfully, also the part where she felt like she's been inadequate in a long time, only she never realized it before. It's terrible that I feel the same way she does, but reading this makes me think that I'm not alone, and Esther is around my age so I mustn't be the only one feeling inadequate in this world. I like the conversation between Esther and Buddy about her being neurotic, and about that Eric guy who thinks that if he really loves a girl, he would keep her from all that dirty business we call sex. I don't really read books written by woman before because they're mostly romance and I don't really like reading romance, despite my deep love for romcom movies, but this one definitely worth the exception.

“I could never settle down in either the country or the city… what’s so neurotic about that?”

Buddy didn’t answer.

“Well?” I rapped out.

“Nothing,” Buddy said in a pale, still voice.

“Neurotic, ha!” I let out a scornful laugh. “If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I’m neurotic as hell. I’ll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.”

Buddy put his hand on mine.

“Let me fly with you.”

I needed to make a choice and I choose me

I cannot tell you how low my lowest point is, but this time could be it. Psychologically, I'm a very internally motivated person. I've kept going on in life because I've been self-motivating myself and usually I never need anyone's support to make a choice or to get through things in life. I thought this was a good thing because that makes me independent and somehow a little stronger because I don't need anyone else. But this time I see the downside. It's so hard to get up again after someone or something has let me down, and the pain is heart-wrenching, and it hurts way too much that it's getting unbearable so the tears can't even start to roll down. Now I know I'm not as strong as I thought I am, or maybe I am, but someone is stronger than me (because there will always be someone better than me, just like there's still a sky above the sky, though I'm not sure about the sky part). I've been hated and hating before, but hate is a strong word I never actually mean to say when I said it. You should remind this: Hate is a strong word; don't use it just to make yourself feel so powerful. Power didn't come from you looking at people from below your nose; it comes from you feeling so small in front of them but you manage to overcome that fear and make them listen to what you have to say.

You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life. -Winston Churchill

So what I do, I take some time alone and alienating myself from the world. I'm so good at being anonymous.

Said my high school sociology teacher

So much has happened in the last few weeks, but, maybe there's only one thing that I'm concerned about. It is something that my sociology teacher told me 4 years ago in a classroom, during one of those boring meetings because I was never into sociology and stuffs. He told us about one kind of love that we will never understand until someday we will be old enough to feel it. He said it's a love between children and their parent. He said we will never understand what it's like until we will be old enough to get married, to have sex, to reproduce and finally to raise a kid. He said when we have it, we will do anything--ANYTHING--for our children just so that they would be happy, and so they won't be hungry, and so that they would be able to pursue their dreams. Someday we would do the things we hate because we love our children just to make things happen for them. And then he told us a story that if there ever was a fire burning his house, he honestly would save his kids rather than his wife. That's just how much he loves his children--and how much parents in general love their children. Yesterday I saw my favorite TV series One Tree Hill where there's a college professor who lied and committed a crime that was actually his son's. When asked why he would lie about it that he quit his job and everything, he said "Because he's my son. That's what we do to our son." So that's enough reason to learn that parents can never been objective about their children unless they never really love them from the first place. Now I know why my mom and dad never look at her the way I see her. Because I don't understand. I don't understand the love they feel towards her, and I will never understand how much they love her until someday I will have my own daughter and raise her. Functional parents, no matter how many times you break their hearts and doesn't matter how bad you've crushed them, they will still love you the same, and still fight for whatever will make you happy. No matter how much you turned your back on them, they will always give you a second, or maybe third and fourth chance.If you can't be happy with what they can earn for you, it's really not their fault because they tried, so maybe you should try to be happy for them too. And just because they will give you another chance, and they will reshape their broken hearts, that doesn't mean you can blow the first chance and break hearts just that easily. Today we don't understand how sad it is to be hurt by our children; don't learn this the hard way.