Monday, 24 December 2012

gathering dust

Humour me for a second and forget that mp3s have taken over our lives, and lets pretend for a moment that you still frequent your local music store to buy albums, as opposed to clicking 'purchase' on iTunes, or wherever you get your music from these days. Humour me for a moment.

Everyone has that one favourite CD that they used to play on loop. It may come with a sticker on it's shiny plastic cover, proclaiming bonus tracks, or posters. Or in some cases - 'buy one get one free!'. The cover probably isn't all that shiny anymore, the plastic probably scratched and worn, cracks from careless storage crushing the flimsy covering.. But you don't mind because the memories that go with it are just so fantastic, and anyway - the CD plays just fine. (Or maybe you do mind, you anal bastard. But I'm ignoring you lot for now.)

You know that as soon as the first tune plays you'll be singing along, vague smile gracing your face and for a moment you're somewhere else. Down the highway, cruising with the windows down and the wind messing up your previously perfect hair. In your room, tears running down your face, pillow in hand, and your constantly vibrating phone sitting ignored in the corner. Next to your best friend, hands clasped tight and voice hoarse from the screaming because the vocalist is so hot, and watching them live is worth skipping meals for.

Once upon a time, it was all you played. You know every song, and the order it comes in, and you're already anticipating the next song.

But today.. The case is cracked, and the CD worn. The songs skip or gets stuck, the scratches did their damage. So now it sits quietly in corner, gathering dust.

Some items just aren't meant to last forever. I don't have the heart to throw it out just yet, but when there isn't any more space left in my cluttered room, I'll say goodbye.

And some friendships just aren't meant to stand the test of time. I'll always root for you, and I'll always wish you the best. Maybe it's a telling sign that our memories are better conversation material than our current lives.

Sunday, 23 December 2012

Seconds [2010]

One day consists of 86,400 seconds. This is one of them.

In relation to my last post, so as to not paint a "Bah, humbug!"-y picture of me. Because I do believe in love. It's just right now.. I'm a bit too tired.

Saturday, 15 December 2012

Obsession, part huit - D'Sound

I remember hearing D'Sound's Tattooed On My Mind from their Beauty Is a Blessing album on my brother's computer for the first time. I remember begging him to just give me their CD, because really, he's ripped them on his computer and he doesn't need the physical CD anymore. Because I need it. I remember him finally giving in, and that the first time I played it, it was raining outside, and I had just got  home from school and I was so happy, I didn't bother getting changed from my uniform.

I remember chatting for hours with Sphyra online, interspersed with silly chatter in the #MD-Indo room on IRC, with D'Sound playing softly in the background, because I didn't want to sleep, and staying awake till I was exhausted meant that I didn't have to spend time staring at the cracked white ceiling of my grandparent's home.

I remember shoving D'Sound down Jo's throat around about the time I started sleeping over at her place, because THEY'RE MY FAVE BAND EVER, and convincing people that I have really cool taste in music was a valid way of interacting back then.

I remember driving around aimlessly at night with their many songs from their many albums played on shuffle, because that's partly how I convinced myself that staying in one city long enough to finish my degree is the logical (and responsible) thing to do.

I remember getting over break ups and make ups with their songs. I remember the excitement of finally seeing their CD in a record store, and buying it even though I was on a tight student budget. I remember long drives to Jakarta, shouting along to their songs, much to the chagrin of random friends who happen to accompany me, because I really can't sing.

I remember pulling all nighters with headphones on tight, because the designers always insist on playing loud heavy metal bands or fucking Kelly Clarkson at midnight, and I need something to help me concentrate on the article I've neglected for the past month.

So many memories.

This band got me through a lot of things. And I will never be able to tell them just how much they mean to me.

Except, oh hang on.. I did.

I remember the night I had dinner with Simone, the vocalist for D'Sound. She was the nicest, sweetest and friendliest person ever. She was also worried that I sneaked off to meet her when I was supposed to be studying for my Econ finals (7am the next day). I remember choking on the crushed almonds that were stirred in my hot cocoa. And my friends laughing at me because I was so shy. The next night, I went to their gig in Bandung, stood front row center, and at the end of the night, she saw me and recognized me, and managed to say she was glad we came.

I will always have a special place in my heart for D'Sound.

silly rain

I was always a fortunate kid, and I think I was pretty priviledged. My parents are't exactly rolling in dough, but I definitely had a comfortable childhood. My first home was, as I remembered it, huge. Enough room for me to crawl under tables and imagine elaborate stories where I was Kamen Rider's plucky young sidekick, and the world needed my very vague but very important talents. And lovely blank walls I was allowed to 'decorate' with childish scribbles and valiant attempts at forging my parent's signatures (they never signed off on assignments and permission slips, they eventually gave up asking if I needed anything signed).

We had a sprawling back garden filled with Duku trees and Mango trees, and shapely Salak palm trees in the distance (which I had to be careful about approaching, because SNAKES!), and rows upon rows of Suflir that sit pretty, awaiting my mum's attention. There was enough room for me to practice riding my bike and a gently slopped roof where my brother had his afternoon naps. I tried joining him once, I was rewarded with laughter as I got stuck and spent half an hour trying to get back down.

I was rarely bored at home, even if I spent hours alone. I was a pretty self sufficient kid, easily amused by my own imagination. And if I was ever really desperately lonely, I could always hop down a stone path to my gran's sister's house next door and bug my teenage aunts and uncles, settling down for an afternoon of noodles and music I didn't quite understand. Or if I wanted to play with someone my own age I could ask my Mbak to hail a becak so I can ride to my gran's house and trick my younger (by 6 months!!) cousin into doing something silly. She was always a lot more sensible than I ever was.

Approaching dusk, I'd have to be safely ushered indoors because that would be the time the wild monkeys would come out to play, swinging on washing lines, ripping of any unfortunate item of clothing forgotten there. They'd be wreaking general havoc, as I watched fascinated safe behind a pane of glass. I took the saying "Monkey see, monkey do." to a whole other level, I consider it a stroke of luck that I didn't turn out violent like those bastards.

This sudden onslaught of nostalgia was brought on by the rain. And I think my love of rain started from that house. My Condet house. Because we had a nice patio, with the most uncomfortable rattan lounger where I nevertheless spent hours watching it pour down. This lovely thick curtain of water obscuring the world outside, keeping me safe from monkeys, and mosquitoes. Cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning never really scared me, and I'd stay curled up with a mug of hot chocolate, quietly enjoying the feeling of being some type of magical creature living behind a waterfall.

It's raining today, and I'm safe inside my tiny little picture perfect brick house. But right now, I'm remembering Condet, and all the happy moments I spent there as a child.

Thursday, 13 December 2012

easily amused~

I feel ya Russell.. You know.. Sans pubes comment.

Traveling with friends = BEYOND AWESOME, but I can't deny that traveling alone is one of my favorite things to do. The plane ride, filled with melancholic staring of the fluffy white clouds outside (and then your eyes hurting because fuck it it's too damn bright), and the awkward look the taxi driver gives you when you're obviously on holiday alone.. I'm weird but it just fills me with glee, okay. Honestly, I like holidays on my own because I get to space out in a strange new place and it's a lot more romantic to smile at strangers having fun, rather than when you're out with your friends and they're bugging you to just fucking get ready, the trannies are about to start their awesome pole dancing at the gay bar across town. (Which were honestly hands down, some of the best dancing I've ever seen.)

Friday, 16 November 2012

hello lover~~

I should stop having love affairs with websites, but alas.. The internet is such a wonderful place.

I can't believe I've neglected to mention Book Depository on my (sporadically updated, and altogether rather pathetic excuse of a) blog. I'm not sure how I stumbled on it in the first place.. It might have been on a hunt for a book, or it might have been fate. I don't know. I'm feeling romantic, so let's just call it fate.

Why do I love it so?

No paypal account needed.
I can pay straight from my credit card. I do have a paypal, and I do occasioanlly use it to purchase things fom ebay of etsy, but the credit card associated with that account is now dead. And I can't be bothered to register another card. I could. But I'm lazy. So this may not be a plus point for everyone, but having the choice matters to me.

Free shipping.. EVERYWHERE.
Seriously. Everywhere. It's not some random promotion or a seasonal thing. It's free shipping. Everywhere. All the time. I'm in heaven. Frankly speaking, shipping is a bitch. Most times the shipping costs is more than the cost of the actual item when you order things from Indonesia, and whilst I don't mind forking out the shipping money - free shipping is a godsend.

The way the books are shipped.
Tax is also a bitch. If I'm not mistaken, if you purchase items worth more than $50 online.. You have to pay additional tax when it gets here. Whilst it is mostly over looked in Jakarta (where people tend to spend lots on online shopping from international websites), I know my friends have had troubles in smaller cities. Even in Bandung. Book Depository sends their books individually, so the cost of each package never goes to $50 - no matter how many books you've purchased. I once purchased around 7 books (not all mine!) and they were all shipped on the same day, individually packaged. Best thing? They arrived on the same day too!

Great customer service!
My last purchase went missing. My stomach was in knots. I waited up to a month before I started panicking. Then Deskynowsky (one my victims from recommending Book Depository. Avid shopper :p) told me it happened to one of her shipments once and she reported it. They immediately sent her replacement copies. I tried to contact them, the response was immediate, polite and helpful. They gave me a choice of my money back, or replacement books. I chose the books! Waiting on their arrival now!

Honest to God, they're not paying me for this post! Haha, I'm just so very, very in love right now.

Seriously, reading is bad for me. I'm such a book whore. Reading is so time consuming, highly distracting (I always get sidetracked by shiny books!) and so frigging expensive. I spent my time reading online stories when I got desperate - It's that bad.

My wages mostly go to books and bras. Expensive hobbies. So Book Depository was a godsend. Aksara is way overpriced with a poor selection of titles, Kinokuniya is also a little on the expensive side for me. Periplus and Times is awesome, but they are ever so tiny, and they don't always have the books I want. Gramedia is cheap, but again - poor selection of books. Second hand book stores don't have the new titles.. etc etc.

Now if I could only find an online bra store that stocks the good stuff with free shipping.....

Crossposted at ficklebookwhore.

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Happy 40th anniversary W!

I don't usually share my love of magazine photos on my blog, I save that for my pinterest board, but this one is just way too hot. Look at Scarlett Johansson being all grungy and shit.. I never crushed on her the way some of my friends did, but I seriously love this photo. Granted, the nose ring is a bit big, but her lips in that shade of red, with the eye make-up and the rings.. The eye make up! Ugh! Absolutely brilliant.

This cover is one of four that Steven Klein did for W, the other three being Rooney Mara representing the 70s, Mia Wasikowska for the 80s, and Kiera Knightley doing the 2000s. I'm not being biased, but ScarJo was supposed to be the 90s - my favourite decade.

Don't you think she would have made a (visually) perfect Rogue from X-Men?? Maybe the make up and hair was Rogue-inspired? ;)

Maybe it's because I've always had a soft spot for comic book-verse rogue and/or the fact that the 90s was my favourite decade, but I'm just completely in love with the photo.

In other news, I'm back toiling away as an editor in my old magazine. Got a promotion though. MWAHA!

Friday, 26 October 2012

like a long lost love rediscovered

I'll admit that I'm as flighty as can be, and my interests wane with the seasons. I pick up and discard hobbies very quickly. My only constant is perhaps my love of books.

(I should write a post about meeting Deska of Deskynowsky sometime. She got me all fired up about posting book reviews on my sadly forgotten book blog.)

Anyway! Earlier this year I got myself a birthday present. An Instax Piano Black. Sort of like a polaroid, but with smaller pictures - for those who don't know what that is.

My DSLR is currently looking forlorn and lonely, and much as I love picture taking, I have to admit, dragging around the bulky camera is a bit of a chore. Slap me, please - I deserve it. But having snapped pictures with my Instax these past couple of months, my general interest in photography is currently rearing it's pretty (dazed) head.

I have a project in mind, and I have a feeling I'll be lugging my cameras with me everywhere for the next couple of months.

Wish me luck.

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Obsession, part sept - Jonghyun's voice.

This is basically going to be a video spam post of CN Blue's Jonghyun singing. Because his voice makes me melt into a warm puddle of goo.

A little back story; This dude is 1/4 of a Korean band called CN Blue, who dabble mainly in pop/rock. Jonghyun is the guitarist and sometime singer, they (CN Blue) mainly split the singing bits between Jonghyun and Yonghwa - the other singer. Whilst I love CN Blue, and I quite like Yonghwa's voice.. Jonghyun just makes me want to put on a pretty sundress, so I can sit in a grassy field, basking in the warm afternoon sunlight on top of a red and white checkered picnic rug.

Love his voice. Like no kidding. And he's not exactly hard to look at either.

But the fact that he's a kid born in 1990 makes me feel guilty and dirty. Because he's just too cute and oh so young. He's the same age as my baby cousin.

So yes. Guilty. And dirty. But I'm stalking him on youtube nonetheless. Here's three covers he's done that I've been watching quietly in the dead of night.

Monday, 22 October 2012


Thank you oh mysterious benefactor, Ryusenkai!

I give you Bump of Chicken - Firefly :)

I can't stop grinning. :)

(No 'obsession' in the title, but yes. Definitely part of my obsessions. Because I've been stalking them since forever!)

Any chance of a Jakarta concert, guys? Or Singapore. Please. I'd fly to Singapore for you.

you know when you're comfortable in your own skin..

.. and you've never really had confidence issues or what-not but you get these awesome moments of "Oh. I like me. I mean, I really like me!"..?

No? Maybe I'm babbling because I'm sad and I'm lamenting the lack of Japanese bands posting HQ video clips up on youtube. Because Bump of Chicken has a new(ish) song and I'm dying to see the vid. Weird name, I know. I'm not sure what the original is in Japanese.. Nevertheless, I'm in love, have been since high school, and I want to see their new video. And possibly buy the album, because I don't mind shelling out the money for good bands.

So anyway.

I had a hair cut, because you can't really see the awesomeness of my purple hair unless I whip my head around violently. Or bend over dramatically. Very awkward poses. I layered it somewhat and I realized I need to dye it again, because bleach and dye just slides off my hair. Or I need to buy a better dye (been told Special Effects is pretty good).. So yes. After the hair cut, I was messing around with curlers and gel and shit and I realized I really liked my hair.

It was.. comfortable. For lack of a better explanation. In a nation of black haired beauties and the occasional brunette (dyed or natural), I thought it'd be uncomfortable to be different. And let's face it, although my hair isn't all that bright (a layer of dark brown curls pretty much covers the purple~), a glimpse of purple (or rather these days - faded pink..) is still different enough to command attention.

To my surprise, I'm really very comfortable with not giving a f*ck about what people think.

I've always known this, really. It should come to no surprise. But still.. I felt a pleasant warm buzz at the thought.

Thursday, 11 October 2012

goodbye boring hair!

Say hello to my glorious mane. My PURPLE MANE! Mwaha! No greens and blues around, so I went with purple, and hot damn it looks good. I'm gonna dye the (normal) top half a brighter colour soon - because I can. And because it looks fantastic.

I'm ecstatic! It looks so good!

Another thing crossed off my bucket list ;)

lucky hew-mans.

As I lathered soap into my cat's wet fur, it occurred to me that humans are really quite lucky - Wet humans can look sexy. Case in point:

Let me introduce you to this fine specimen of Man, he goes by the name of Takeshi Kaneshiro. Japanese actor and singer. This pic is quite old I think.. I've seen it float on teh interwebz for a fair few years, and it's still my fave pic of him, because look at him. Ridiculously good looking man.

So. What was I talking about? Oh yes. Wet animals.

I was going through the types of pet one would perhaps have, and googled pictures of them wet. I'm a busy girl, but I made time because this is research. Seriously. Off the top of my head - hamsters and other cutesy tiny creatures.. cats.. dogs - they all look terrible wet. You can have the cutest little kitten curled up next to you, but the moment s/he is wet - ugly thing. Throw it away. 

To be fair, wet horses and wet elephant don't actually look too 'bad' - they're just ridiculous looking. But I dare you to google ' wet camel'.. In between pictures of crotches, you'll find a drenched camel (the animal).. They're seriously ugly. They're not the best looking creatures even when dry, so throwing a bucket of water all over them really doesn't help it any. Ugly.

I love my cat (the above picture is not my cat by the way!), but she is hideous when wet.

See, aren't you proud that human beings can manage to look attractive even when wet?

I need sleep. This much is obvious. Goodnight!

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

easily bored

And yet easily amused.

I need some fun changes in my life. This would usually mean a drastic haircut, but I kinda need to grow my hair out for m'darling Quincey's wedding. I could pierce my ears some more, but I keep loosing my earrings, and I barely have enough for my current piercings. I could get a tattoo, but thinking of what I want permanently etched on my skin is a bit too much effort for a random rainy day musing.

So I basically decided I'm totally going to dye my hair. A fun, bright colour. Not completely though, I think I'm going to keep the top part of my head a dark colour, and then bleach the rest of it. It sounds awful, but it will look absolutely brilliant. I swear. So. Colours.

Option 1.
Isn't it the purdiest shade ever? A little Sailor Moon-y, no? Though for the life of me, I don't remember if any of the Sailors ever sported a hair this shade.. So. Green. Either this shade, or maybe a darker shade.. A sort of dark leaf green. Like a right-in-the-middle-of-rainy-season leaf green. All rich and fresh looking.

Option 2.

I love purple. Purple is my favourite colour. And apparently 'ungu' ('purple' in Indonesian~) was my first word. My mum is forever disappointed her kids refused have 'mum' as their first words. (My brother's was ' Toyota'.. Not surprising considering he's still a car enthusiast to this day..)

Option 3.

This lovely washed out shade of blue. Something very anime-ish about this colour. My 15 year old self would totally vote for this one. Bleaching my head and dealing with the subsequent hair-issues would be worth it for this shade though. I mean look at it.

Option 4.

Apparently, really bright shades wash out pretty quickly. So this shade of pink is on my to-do list, regardless. I don't think I'll pick it right away though. The pic is here for the sole reason that I think Miss A's Jia is super hot, and I have the biggest girl crush ever on her.

All pics found via google image search soz if I grabbed one of yours~

So yeah. Waiting for some of the cash from my freelance jobs to finally drop down into my bank account and then BAM. Goodbye boring hair!

Have some bonus Miss A eye-candy. Because I love Jia. And Min (the tiny girl with the asymmetrical hair).. But mostly Jia.

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

so maybe..

I really should use my fiction tag a lot more.

I keep saying this, and goddess above.. I really do want to. If I can make a living out of this writing lark, maybe I can make a living out of the whole writing fiction thing. Big dreams, I know.. Especially considering my (lack of) drive when it comes down to sitting down and writing things out.

Alas, I am rather horrible at keeping this particular promise of writing fiction.. Because there's just so many talented writers in the world, and I'm honestly not all that confident.. I'm internet-appropriate, but I don't think I'm publishing-appropriate, you dig?

Oh woe.

(And I hear a chorus of "Shut up Mousey, grow a pair and just do it. Stop talking about it. If you're shit then you're shit, but you haven't even tried." coming from friends who are sick and tired of me looking longingly at pretty books, and wishing that one day one of them will have my name emblazoned across it in sparkly pink letters. Because I'm just classy like that.)

Monday, 24 September 2012

contemplation is overrated.

There are times when I want to make this blog less personal, and a little more themed. There are times when I feel like I should take it a little more seriously, and maybe make it sound a little less frivolous. And there are times when I think I should write more eloquently.

But then I remember that I don't blog for anyone, and being silly is kinda my 'thing', and really this blog is just another form of me remembering my life, and my life is basically silly and frivolous. And I'm okay with that.

A random midnight musing, after an hour or so of watching Shinhwa Broadcast feat. Super Junior. Holy crap, Korean variety shows crack me up. And honestly, Shinhwa + Super Junior = MAGIC.

Sleep now! Adieu, adieu.. For alas, tomorrow is a busy day. I have a foot massage planned. And also a book I must finish! Oh my. Fingers crossed I won't be too tired by the end of it all.

Friday, 21 September 2012

worker bee blues

I haven't been happy about work since last year, and I don't think much has improved since I quit my last job and got into this whole freelance-lark. It's a bit hard to admit, since I do so adore writing, and I wouldn't trade the chance to write for a living for anything in the world.

At first I thought it was because I was working in the media, but if I think carefully - working in the media has been a fun and rewarding experience. I've met so many (no other words for it) awesome people, and have tried my hands at so many things I never thought I'd do, and ended up enjoying the experience.. well 90% of it. Which I think is a pretty good percentage, considering how many of my own friends have hated their first jobs and opting out of their chosen trade within months of starting it.

I like styling. I got to meddle in interior design and artsy-fartsy stuff, which honestly was heaven for me. And most important still - I got to write.

Quitting my job was a hard decision, especially as technically I had fun, and enjoyed the process.. but I was getting dragged down by certain persons who made my working experience not enjoyable. I thought working freelance jobs might work out well for me, but not really. I get to choose my jobs, sure.. But it's just not as fun. I don't think I'm cut out for this whole 'working on my own' thing. I prefer being in the company of other people. (I know. Say it ain't so! But I swear this is really me talking, it's weird.)

So now I'm looking around, and trying to dip my toes in something else. Something that's a bit related to my degree perhaps?

But the media world has been knocking on my door again.

Even though I said I'd never go back, and I feel like I'll be eating my own shit if I go back.. Seriously. Siren calls. I know how comfortable it is working in a magazine, and if the support system promised is actually there - it will be glorious.



Reading back this post - it looks terrible and barely coherent. But I honestly don't have the energy to edit anything right now. Ah well. You'll have to bear with it.

Sunday, 16 September 2012


So I have an Evil Twin. Well. Sort of. He likes to think that I'm the evil one, but really, I'm not. He totally is.

He's a dude I met right at the start of uni, and we hit it off straight away, because basically - we liked making fun of people and being snarky. So yes, we decided that we're practically twins because we had a shitload in common, and zero attraction to one another. Probably because he thinks that I'm "a cool dude with long hair." - his exact words. Repeated so many times over the years that I'm starting to believe it myself.

Cue years of making fun of other people, making fun of each other, and occasional petty comments which may or not may not have resulted in incredibly childish name-calling tournaments.

For the past three years or so though, I've only seen Sir Twinno something like once a year. Usually on his birthdays. And that's only because he has an awesome girlfriend who usually rounds up all his friends for his birthdays (alas, even when I had boyfriends, they were sorry excuses for human beings.).. Work, traffic jams and other lame excuses have sort of been getting in the way of our friendships. Even the phone calls have dwindled down in frequency over time. Mostly because he was just a phone call away. An easy enough distance to cover, no?

Well, not for the next year or so. Because today I drove to the airport to send him off to Scotland. To nom on haggis. Uh.. I meant to continue his studies. Bastard. And I say that with affection.

I'm not big on tears, and I wasn't expecting to be that sad over his leaving, because if you think about it, next time I see him it'll be a year (or so) from now, and it's exactly what would have happened if he had stayed. See him once this year, and then again next year. But it sucks. Because the option of calling him up whenever I want has suddenly disappeared.

I have not used my time wisely. We should have hung out more often. Because hey, if you have a friend who understands your need to bitch and not be a Nice Person all the time (even if that means sometimes getting seriously insulted and angry sometimes), you should appreciate them.

And okay, part of it is maybe because I may have been contemplating my friendships a lot lately. Especially considering the way some people have unexpectedly disappeared from my life. So yeah, I'm feeling a little sad over some friendships that I feel I could have 'saved' if only I had made more of an effort.

Ah well, that's another topic for another day though. This one is for Sir Twinno.

So here's to my Evil Twin. May you do well in your studies, and I hope you don't piss off too many people. Come home soon, and we'll bitch about the table across from us. Because you know we'll find something to cackle about.

Monday, 3 September 2012

hullo there~

"sometimes i just remember that i haven’t actually met my internet friends in real life and they live thousands of miles away. and that they actually have a house and a family and go to school or college and they do stuff and they exist not on the internet and then i realise how fragile our friendship is

like they could just get bored and never log on again and that would be it"
Originally found during a random trek through tumblr..

I can't help but wonder where some of them are. It's easy enough to just write them off as random usernames, or even figments of my sometimes over active imaginations. That is, if I had no visible evidence of their existence.

I have a half finished novel still stored in my computer from a guy I only know as 'Matt the Pony Guy', a nickname I bestowed on a random Australian who amused me. A collection of poems and a wedding invitation from a girl in Africa who goes by the nick Svitgurl. Stories posted online with me as the beta (editor) or my stories getting beta-d by other random nicknames. A folder of pictures of this random beardy guy I've gotten to know (HA! Hello A!). A copy of The Davinci Code (don't judge, I wanted this book. And it will forever have a special place in my heart because of who gave it to me), and some other mangas that err.. umm.. would be better left unmentioned. And of course a coffee date with the lovely Colson, who Calvin and Jo and I like to refer to as opa. And songs.

God, I have so many songs in all sorts of languages, that I vaguely remember getting from these awesome people. (Ich find Dich Scheisse is still by far my favourite. Thanks.. Ehh.. Corn? Or was it you low_? Neithan-kun maybe?)

You don't think about how fragile these friendships formed online can be.. If anything were to happen to me, I don't think anyone would ever have the thought of 'oh hey I should tell these people on Mouse's address book that she's no longer available to reply to their emails.'.. Which makes me sad, because I don't value these friendships any less when compared to people I regularly meet and chat with. And it goes both ways I suppose. I don't know what happened to so many of the people I've come across in the years since I've started using teh interwebz.

I guess this post is a 'hello' to anyone who might have known me. A weird, virtual hat-tip to all the strangers who made the internet such a wonderful, addicting place for me. Oh silly anonymous people, how you've all changed my life in some way or another. Sometimes I think it's weird that I miss some of these people more than I do people I've actually met and gone to school with. But then again, people I've gone to school with left me with a shit load of anger issues. Ha!


Hey internet, you wonderful thing. Here's a message. It'd be nice if you could get it delivered for us.
Dear Ashgard and Sphyra, our lovely lovely duckies. 

We do miss you terribly. Mouse still has her old email address, Quincey too. It'd be nice if we could talk again one of these days. Like I said - we miss you terribly. We have proper internet connection now! So we won't make you leech stuff for us anymore :p
Quincey is getting married! Did you ever think you'd see the day? Ha! And Mousey really wishes she could send you birthday presents, like you did for her. There's still a wrapped-up unsent DVD waiting for an address in her cupboard. :')

Much love, Mousey and Quincey.

Monday, 20 August 2012

happy (?) eid

So Ramadhan came and went, so have Eid.

I used to be excited over Eid. This year.. Not so.

This is getting to be a horrible trend. What with me not being all bubbly and happy over my birthday earlier this year (having said that, I had a smashing time getting.. well.. smashed.), and then not gleefully counting the days to my holidays. Now Eid is sort of just.. blah.. for me. I hope Christmas and New Year's will somehow revive my silly, giddy ways.

I don't think it's a sign of me getting older.. I don't think. I hope not.

I just need to get fired up over something again.

Wednesday, 8 August 2012

oh look! giveaway going on at DiploWife's blog :D

Giveaway url:

The Diplomatic Wife is a blog I follow, with lovely posts on interior stuff, reviews of nice places, and envy-inducing travel posts. She's having a giveaway of her favourite things from Manila.. Yay! Unfortunately, it's only for people who live in and around Jakarta. So, go clickety-click if you can! :)

In which I try to write coherent book reviews..

and fail spectacularly.

HAHA! : This is my attempt at channeling the two things I enjoy the most: reading, and ranting about books. Because I need to practice writing. I should update with new stuff, but for now, two reviews are up from way back in 2009, reposted from an old blog. Hohoho!


Please do visit! :)

Wednesday, 25 July 2012


Took this picture from Postsecret. I haven't visited that site in years. I used to go every week, awaiting new anonymous secrets that I could relate to, I stopped because the secrets were always the same type after a while. (But yes, I'd run away with you.). I used to have a whole folder of 'secrets' from Postsecret saved up in my computer, thinking that one day I'd print them all out and use it as wallpaper for one of the walls in my house. (But then you'd know they were all about you.)

There is no point to this post. Really. I just wanted to share that one particular 'secret' I found today.

Seriously. Didn't we say we'd run away together? Call me.

Sunday, 22 July 2012

drabble 3: Petrichor. [100 words]

Prompt: Petrichor; the scent of rain on dry earth.

Parched throats and parched hearts. Sometimes she doesn’t know which is worse. A quick gulp of cold water, or a quick fuck against the nearest wall. It’s just never enough.

So when he takes her hands and presses a chaste kiss to her cheeks, breath uneven and skin still sticky with a sheen of sweat, she wonders if maybe this time it’s different. A flash of memories not yet made, of loud fights and comfortable silences, the lingering smell of fresh laundry and burnt dinners. She hopes..

Today though.. She grins and puts herself back together. Never enough, but someday.

(Author's notes: I don't know. *shrugs*)

drabble 2: Lost. [16 words]

Prompts: chicken, hot, steam, rice, spoon
16 words.

The chicken was hot, the rice steaming. Fingers numb, all she did was stare the spoon.

(Author's note: Because a friend was hungry, and he gave 
me simple prompts and an insanely short word limit.)

drabble 1: Secrets. [105 words]

I have a secret. She waits for the continuation and is met with silence. Looking up she sees mischievous eyes, wide and excited. A flutter in her stomach, a sudden hitch in her breath, she ignores it in favour of the widely grinning face in front of her. It isn’t mine.

She huffs in annoyance. Should you really be telling it then?

It’s yours. She grins. But I really think you should share it.

Before she could retort on how stupid she was being, she swoops in.

There. A kiss. A peck really. Her grinning mouth barely leaving hers. Now it can be our secret.

(Author's note: Why did I make it slash when nameless-same-sex stories 
with no quotation marks are a pain to write? Ah well.)

Saturday, 21 July 2012

limited responses

Found this poem floating around the internet, and oh my God. Bunnies.
The Quiet World

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

-Jeffrey McDaniel

I meant plot bunnies. Not actual bunnies. Not a big fan of bunnies. Unless they're the aforementioned plot bunnies, or they're dead. And skewered on wooden sticks. And covered in peanut satay sauce - in which case, YUM.

So yes. Don't you just want to expand on that world? Where words are limited and all the fillers in between conversation are useless, because words are limited.. I just.. Yes.

I have a tendency to ramble and I miss writing drabbles. Limiting myself to a set number of words to tell a story - that was fun. I should get writing again. I should.



Sunday, 15 July 2012

a little like drowning, and a little like flying

For as long as I can remember, I'd get this weird feeling every now and then.. I used to wake up panicked and sweating, breathing hard because for a moment it feels like everything stopped. Sometimes my mouth feels like it's filled with plasticine and no matter how hard I try to clamp my mouth shut, I just can't. There's a horrid taste in my mouth, and a cloying, sweet smell that I just can't stand.

It probably means something, and I should probably look it up, but it's been with me for so long that I've kinda gotten used to the whole thing. I never wake up in cold sweat over it anymore, and it has kinda lost its scary vibe. It used to mean that I'll have an awful week of trying to get rid of that smell that seems to somehow linger, and trying to convince myself that no, everything is fine, so hush. These days.. Not so bad. Oh I'll have a few days of feeling unsettled, a vague feeling of something left unfinished.. Of feeling a little sad, and lost, and a little like I'm drifting.. And then it'll be over. 

It's not an entirely unpleasant feeling. I don't know how to explain it. It's like when you're a little lost in your thoughts, in the middle of a crowded street. Or when you have headphones on, and the world feels a little disjointed because the mouths around you aren't saying the words you're hearing, and it's a little too bright outside because you're listening to a song that's perfect for a dark, stormy night.

Even if I look at the clock
I don’t have time, goodbye now
Even if I look at the calendar
I don’t have any memories now
I’m afraid I’ll be a book that no one reads
Music that no one listens to anymore
I’m afraid I’ll be abandoned like a movie playing in an empty theater

Even if I look at the phone

I don’t have any relationships now
Even if I look into the mirror
In there, there’s no confidence now

Tablo - Expired

Thursday, 12 July 2012

(not quite obsession) Calvin Harris ft. Example - We'll Be Coming Back

Apologies. This blog is fast becoming a music diary of songs I'm currently interested in. But this one.. Ahhh.. I posted Example's Kickstarts song as part of my obsession post a while back.. And here he is again, featuring on a track with Calvin Harris. I have to say, after that super anoying and catchy (damn it! SO catchy!) single with Rihanna.. Calvin Harris is now back in my good books with this song! I'm not a fan Rihanna, as her nasally voice just scratches on the last meager remains of my sanity.. I mean the song is catchy as hell, but you won't find it amongst the stuff I have on my computer.

So yes. This song. Rather lovely. And I'm posting the (fanmade??) video on my blog as a personal bookmark. I should start making some proper posts, I know. But yes. For now..

Is this song going to be played on loop? Well.. As soon as it's out on iTunes, it is. So, not an 'obsession' yet, but definitely will be.

Tuesday, 3 July 2012

Obsession, part six

Introducing Tablo, one third of a South Korean hiphop group Epik High. Apparently Epik High is quite good, and Tablo is apparently some sort of genius (?).. At least that's what I've gathered from random websites. But fans are rather prone to exaggeration, so I generally take everything with a grain of salt.

I've given up being picky with songs considering how many songs I enjoy outside of my usual genre of choice. 'Getting wiser with age' is my excuse.

Anyway. Yes.

A bit obsessed with this song to be honest. Jinsil, the female singer on this song has a really, really, really cool voice. I mean - listen to it! Listen! Isn't she just fantastic!? I can listen to just her part all day. And I quite like Tablo's rap bits too. It's.. pretty. The whole song is just lovely really.

I've had it on repeat on random days these past couple of months.. Ahh.. So nice.

Monday, 2 July 2012

knowledge is power and power corrupts. so study hard and be evil.

This is probably why my mum is off to school again. She's already so evil though. I don't know how to deal with her anymore. *sigh* Parents these days.

So congrats mum! Out of my hair for at least 3 days a week, out partying with her friends (if the last time she was in school was any indication.. tsk.), and mocking her fellow students (no doubt).

Be good, stay sane. And please don't make anyone cry this time.

Seriously though.. I don't trust her. She's gonna come home giggling one day because an idiot classmate got upset because she was snarky. I just know this. She's a menace.

Monday, 25 June 2012


I have work, but instead I'm reading a shitload of things I should not be reading, knowing full well that my emotions are rather easily swayed and unstable when it comes to well written prose and angst. Because holy crap, when the hurt is good, and I feel like crying - all is well with the world.

My weakness for fiction will someday be my undoing.

I like happy stories, I like fluff - the easy (love) stories which flows without much resistance, I like it when a story feels like a perfect summer day - just warm enough to leave you with the fuzzies.. But when something leaves me shaking and torn and so utterly forlorn.. *fans self* I love sad stories. I really do. Angry stories too. I like, like, love. I love unresolved endings, characters left wondering, with closure being a vague concept for silly people who can't handle the hurt, and wanting to slam my laptop because you can't do this to me! What happens next!? Stories left not quite finished.

This is probably why I spend too much time on the internet.

I must stop reading. Work awaits.

Fuck work, I need more stories.

hum ho

I've often made fun of people who dramatically deactivate their facebook and/or twitter account for any reason. I think maybe I should apologize to some of them.

No, it's not a permanent thing.. And maybe this is a bit melodramatic on my part, but I think it would be best if I stayed away for a while. What you don't know can't hurt you, and what you don't read won't make you want to punch somebody's face in, all the while screaming "WHY!?"

It's a little silly, and entirely too late, all things considered. But hey, if other people can be a calculating bastard, then I can too.

Someday I'll return to facebook and twitter, but till then..

Adieu, adieu~

Saturday, 23 June 2012

get me a guy with a voice like this, stat!

I want to have sex with his voice. Seriously. I like 'em grouchy and raspy and melty.

Okay so this one is a bit depressing, and it's been on my 'masochistic tendencies' playlist for some time. (Yes, a playlist especially dedicated for when I want to feel especially horrible and alone and broken hearted. What can I say - I like to torture myself.)

A newer, happier song. I say 'new' but this was from about 2009 I think.

This song never fails to make me happy, and a little like I should be falling in love with someone right now. Just so I can twirl them all silly-like around my living room.

early mornings always leave me rather woozy

Fact 1: Jakarta is ugly. It's too crowded and too polluted. A little too depressing, and a little too frustrating to be called anything other than a mess. And just.. it's too much.
Fact 2: If I could, I'd move away.

Fact 3: I'm a little in love anyway.

It's the way the city wakes up. All moody and unpredictable.

There are times the day starts with a fight. Golden rays rudely invading my room, abrupt and so completely unwelcome. The heat like an angry strike, too much for my sleepy skin to handle and just plain irritating. Fuck you Jakarta, why are you so happy today? The sudden hustle and bustle of the hated city life. Trudging along amongst irritated honks and death glares of fellow drones marching to their individual hells.

But then days like today make me think that hey.. You're all kinds of awesome darling. Lazy and reluctant like the embrace of a lover too soon separated. Sweet and slow, trails of yellows and blue seeping through a dull grey sky. Buildings standing tall, like zombies unsure of what to do. And just when you think the quiet is too much, the silence is broken by the occasional motorcycle or the shout of a street vendor offering hot, steamy, delicious rice congee.

A cup of coffee by my side, driving through the still empty streets, navigating through familiar roads.. I find myself thinking that even hell would have it's own legion of admirers.

I love you (for now) Jakarta, you ugly fucker.

over sharing is over caring

Here's 5 random things about me that you probably don't need to know :

1. I once came third in a group-dance competition in the whole of Jakarta. We did synchronized dancing with umbrellas. It's better that you don't ask. Suffice to say all I remember of it now is the bright red lipstick that I had to wear, and the annoyance of having to go at the very back, because I was always The Tall One.

2. My favourite colour is purple. But I own mostly black clothes, which is weird because I gravitate towards dark red things more, but I do own an ungodly amount of lime green coloured things too. So. Yes. Those four colours.

3. I get obsessed easily. In the end it's not so much that I like something but more of a 'it needs to be this way'.. So I try to restrict my obsessiveness to trivial things that won't bankrupt and/or destroy me.

4. I have two left feet. This makes learning dance moves and/or awesome martial arts moves virtually impossible, and as such I've given up on trying. And believe me, I have tried. (Although, I can still shake my booty as necessary at clubs. As long as no one tries to actually dance with me. Then I just turn into an uncoordinated mess.)

No. I have no idea how I won the competition mentioned back at numero uno. Well.. I did stand at the veeeeerrrrryyyyy back.

5. My eyes are easily attracted to The Pretty. I usually have several crushes going on at once, ranging from attainable guys I actually know, to random guys I regularly see. But honestly.. I don't fall for people all that easily. Which is hard to explain to my friends, as they do know just how easily distracted I get by guys.

So yes. 5 random facts brought to you by the letters W, T, and F.

Adieu, adieu~~

Thursday, 14 June 2012


"In imagination she sailed over storied seas that wash the distant shining shores of "faery lands forlorn", where lost Atlantis and Elysium lie, with the evening star for pilot, to the land of Heart's Desire. And she was richer in those dreams than in realities; for things seen pass away, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

L.M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island

I love Anne, as ridiculous as she is sometimes. And noisy. Always so noisy. And judgy. But I love Anne.  

Thursday, 24 May 2012

Invention of Love [2010]

A love story from the world of gears and bolts.
Animated short 2010.
Inspired by Lotte Reiniger works and Antony Lucas's Jasper Morello film.

Graduation project

Written & Directed by Andrey Shushkov

Original Music and Sound: Polina Sizova, Anton Melnikov.
Violin perfomed by Anna Gudkova
Not original music part: Chopin
Animation, Design, Compositing, Editing: Andrey Shushkov

The animation is just gorgeous and the music so beautiful. The story.. Everything.. Just, yes.

Friday, 18 May 2012

they say..

"You fight over the small things because for everything else that matters.. You're in sync." Well fuck me sideways, it just reminds me of things I'd rather forget already.

It doesn't make sense because we don't fight over the small things.

We have cold wars. With me forgiving his asshole-ian asshole-rry ways over and over again, because some things only ever makes sense to us. Or knowing my bullshit can be cut through with one calm cutting remark delivered with a straight face. And knowing that at the end of the day, it's a happy hum and it's all so.. Comfortable. Even when it's unstable and strange, and just unnatural. It really doesn't make sense.

We never made sense together. But it was never anything less than incredible.

And it's all very unhealthy.

Like an extra large triple cheeseburger, wrapped in several layers of bacon and completely drenched in fat. With a side of heartattack.

Wednesday, 9 May 2012

Sign Language

Ben holds a sign for a living, and loves his job more than almost anything. But today is his last day.

Grand Prize, Virgin Media Shorts
Grand Prix, Reed film contest
Nominee, Best British Short, British Independent Film Awards
Final 15, Short Short, BAFTA
Best Short, Portable Film Festival

Just too damn cute.

I really do love short movies. :)

Monday, 30 April 2012

reveling in the glorious feeling of drowning

In words. Not water.

Drowning in water is horrific and I hope to never experience it. Unless there is a promise of immediate rescue. By a super buff, abs adorned man-shaped person. A good looking, super buff, abs adorned man-shaped person. 

Hang on.

Not super buff. Just.. Well defined.

What was I talking about? Oh. Drowning. Yes.

I've recently been tasked by my wonderful ex-boss-lady of two jobs ago to write two articles in English, one a review of a cafe, and the other a review slash traveling journal type thing. I was at once excited and somewhat pissing myself with fear as it's been a while since I've used English formally. It's usually used to faff around on this 'ere blog, or to insult people in a round-about way so as to not seriously offend the person I'm insulting. (Making fun of people is a perfectly reasonable excuse to use English, I'll have you know!).. So yes. Out of practice. Pissing myself. Yes.

700 words in, and what I'm feeling right now can only be described as unreasonably happy. I worked in a magazine for two years, in which writing was basically my main job. Sure, I've felt bouts of excitement at writing at that time.. But writing in Indonesian is so f*cking hard. Like seriously. Hard. I don't know enough words! And the words that I do know are not always appropriate to be used in the context that I want it to be used.

And Indonesian is HARD.

And I also think it's not pretty.

Which I realize, is a terrible thing for an Indonesian to say. But fact of the matter is I don't think it's pretty. I know there are numerous authors who can wax lyrical to the point of writing a whole book, just playing around with the words and structure, using it to describe the most mundane things but making it sound FRIGGING WHOA. But it's not for me. I was never in love with it. I think it's an awesome language, sure. And speaking it makes it easier to learn other languages..... Some research once pointed out that Indonesian makes you twist your tongues in so many way that speaking other languages should (theoretically) be easier for Indonesians.

But I was never in love with it.

In my head, it sounds functional and brisk, and any attempts at saying things elaborately with Indonesian just sounds hilarious and always makes me collapse in a fit of giggles. Especially in movies where they're trying to make characters sound depressed. Or romantic. Hilarious.

And I am a terrible person. I know.

Which makes writing in it somewhat of a chore. I liked writing my articles, but I could have worded it so much better in English, and it would have brought tears to your eyes. Yes, I'm still happily playing at being ridiculous.

I know I'm just a lowly second user of English, and it's not my native tongue. And I still need to learn and learn and learn. But by GOD! I love it!

So now I am writing in English and it's so much fun and I can't stop. Hence this overly long, rant-y, extremely pointless post.

Eeeee! Imagine a little kid licking bowl that once housed cookie dough. Or a dog chasing his own tail. That kind of stupidly happy.

Sunday, 29 April 2012

Exeter, Devon. 1998.

I remember being absolutely in love with this song when it first came out. I remember my best friend hating it so much we had a mini argument as her dad drove us to my house.

1998 was so much fun.

I was living in a tiny city called Exeter. I say city, but it's probably smaller than South Jakarta. Hell.. I know it was smaller. A sleepy, student city. Pretty and peaceful to a 13 year old who knows nothing of pubs and clubs and largely ignored concerts. Sizable library though. And the most breath taking cathedral ever. Even as a clueless kid I'd get shivers whenever I went in.

Quick trips down memory lanes are never enough when it comes to Exeter.. But in 1998 it's filled with beach trips down to Sidmouth, "working" at my friend's cafe, pranking people on the phone.. Silly crushes on sillier boys and generally overachieving in school (hey.. I was once a straight A student! And regularly featured on stage either acting and/or with the Samba Club. Yeysh. I wanna hit myself.) Apple tree swings in Saf's garden, cutesy code words with my besties, and my first interests in shopping sparked by the ever so classy Katie and London-girl Safia.

Also the year I was forced to read Harry Potter. (I remember there were threats about not being fed unless I read at least the first few pages.....)

1998 wast he last year that I enjoyed school. Academically anyway. Well.. Until university.

Being 13 was super fun. My baby cousin is turning 12 this year. And I'm kinda sad. She used to step on my face and drool all over my shirts. I wonder what sort of troubles she's getting into these days? She's a bit old to be honest, it comes with the territory of being the baby of a close-knit family where the oldest cousin is 32-turning-33 I guess. We often forget just how much of a baby she still is. All things considered.. I hope she enjoys her pre-puberty days as much as I did.

Tuesday, 24 April 2012


"You have ridiculous short term goals. And a ridiculously short definition of 'short term'.. Ridiculous!"

"Define ridiculous."

"Saying 'I want to write for a living.' and not being able to say anything else about what you actually want to do is ridiculous."

"S'not! Anyway. I've always landed on my feet before."

"Yeah. Well. You got lucky."

"26 years and counting!"

"Your luck won't last forever."


"What is?"

"Your assumption that my luck won't last forever. Ridiculous."


"You sound incredulous."


Conversations with myself never end well. When will I learn that I always talk back? Especially when I know how much of a pushover I really am.

Talk about ridiculous..

Tuesday, 17 April 2012

say it beetch!

I like using words to say nothing in particular. Because sometimes I really do have nothing to say but babbling seems like the more attractive option. Silence is not always comfortable and warm and beautiful. Sometimes it weighs down on you, so much so that you want to hit people.. But I've been told that physical violence is not a socially acceptable way to react to people being quiet. For the most part, I bow down and obey this particular convention.

But I like to think that I can use words to properly articulate feelings and thoughts when appropriate. Which is why games piss me off.

I'm a little too direct and a little too blunt, a little too clueless to pick up on subtle nuances and hints, and I almost always wear my heart on my sleeves. Which is of course a pretty way to say 'my stupid face gives every stupid thought I have stupidly away. Like a stupid face does.'.. My past experiences (at the sage old age of 26. Yes. I'm making fun of myself.) have pushed me to understand that games are necessary evils when it comes to social interactions. I've learned to tolerate it to a certain degree.

Excessive avoidance of words still piss me off though.

Take a hint.

Monday, 9 April 2012

insanity looks good on you.

Says the pot to the kettle.

Oh wait. No. The pot said the kettle was black, proofing once and for all that kitchen-ware can be just as racist as people. Bad kitchen-ware! Though if I spent my life getting my butt burned, I'd be cranky enough that I'd begin spewing racist, homophobic, sexist comments too.

Fortunately, I'm human.

Where was I..?

Oh yes. I think my family is a pretty good looking bunch. That's not me being vain. Okay, it is a little. But I'm a shallow person, and I like pretty things and good looking people - and I'm pleased with the way my family looks. Spending a long weekend away with them may have further damaged my fraying sanity (remind me to write about the elaborate "jokes" we play on each other.) but it made me come to one conclusion..

Insanity suits my family.

All hectic and arms and legs flailing every which way, evil cackles and booming laughter, and the occasional brat running away from (yet another) fuming brat. Ninja Gramps photobombing the grandkids, cackling as he slowly hobbles past, cane in hand. Grandma being unintentionally hilarious. No adults present. Ever. Because no one in my family can be described as 'mature' in the normal sense of the word.

The Clan is awesome.

Unfortunately after editing the pic to show just how much I love The Clan.. the faces became hidden. NO MATTER! Take my words at face value - we're a good lookin' bunch.

Sunday, 25 March 2012

This is what happens when my extended family gathers..


Was supposed to be playing with 2 year old niece, but my lil' cousin (who's actually going on 12 and shooting up into a gangly teen, ergo not so "lil" anymore..) and I decided it would be fun to play T-Rex vs. Ptereodactyl.

And since I didn't want to loose, I stuck an extra block on her Ptereodactyl and declared that it had a tumor. (I'm so mature.)


Much love,
Le Silly Grankids.

Wednesday, 14 March 2012

sometimes I don't remember writing things down..

But then I find a .doc file saved in my folders and I read words that sound completely alien to me. This.. was a file titled 'Death', from April of 2011.

Not sure if 'enjoy' is the right word to use here..


Cigarette in hand, bleary bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open and a head full of ideas that just won’t go away. She doesn’t know when she last had a shower, the very stereotypical image of a writer too immersed in her art. She’s even writing about herself in third person, and the stupidity of the situation isn’t lost on her.

But the words have been held in for too long, and she can’t stop them from spewing out. Endless incoherent ideas, and half formed thoughts. Fragments of conversations, whispered by the phantoms occupying her, a thousand faceless characters she dreams of.

They scare her sometimes.

She tried to suppress them, but they scratch at her from the inside, and it was starting to hurt. Her imagination kicks into overdrive and she sees her body as a shell, barely containing an army of gruesome hybrids of... things. Half solid, half phantasm, long claws and sinister cackles. So close. So close to the surface.

She feels as if she’s fighting a losing battle. And soon they’ll be out.

The monsters that lurk in the darkest recesses of her mind.

Her reality and their reality collide, and the already blurred lines fade into obscurity.

Blood. Hands. Death.

Mere words. The blood she sees on her hands, a poetic rendering of her over active imagination.

And outside the sirens blare.

Kinda floating on by

Like a plastic bag wavering, going wherever. Flighty and weightless.

And finally.. Finally feeling 'happy' instead of just 'content'. I liked my job, but some people and some aspects of it just sucked too much out of me. It cut into every aspect of my life, leaving me drained and irritable and prickly. I didn't like who I was becoming.

So I quit. And now..

Hopefully now I can start working on the things I've neglected for a while.

Monday, 20 February 2012

It's Feb again!

This is the year that I turn 26. It's a bit scary but somehow uneventful.

I'm not the most mature person out there, and birthdays usually make me giddy with expectations of fun, fun, FUN things (that I planned for myself). But this year I'm kinda down in the dumps.

Fingers crossed I'll be happy on the actual day. ^^

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

- word barf 2 -

She doesn’t want to forget. But she wonders if she’ll remember her own writing.

“People write song about girls like you.” Is the first thing she writes. She remembers his over confident face, ruined by unfocused eyes and the heavy reek of alcohol that seemed to physically waft around him. She walked away with a smile, shaking her head at his pick-up line. She looked back once and saw his crumpled face, disappointed and dejected, as his friends surrounded him, laughing pointing good naturedly. On impulse she strides back towards him and kisses him, fast and hard, before walking away once more. Laughter and whoops of encouragement from the strangers that would one day become her friends accompanying her walk.

She wonders if her diary will read like a novel. She wonders if she’ll ever really understand how important those first words were for her. If she’ll remember her own misery that night, and how he made her laugh.

She writes carefully, chronicling every moment of their life together. Pen on paper, as physical evidence.

She doesn’t want to forget.