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.

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.

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.

RIDICULOUS!

"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."

"Ridiculous."

"What is?"

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

"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..

Caramel and whiskey.

There's something magical about soft, dull, grey drenched days.

You can't help but think that something is about to happen. Any moment now. There's something simmering under the crusts of the earth and it's going to amaze everybody.. Any moment now.

Of course nothing ever really happens.

No zombie will ever crawl towards me as I shuffle miserably to my car after a particularly grueling day at work at 2 am. No army of werewolves will howl at the moon when it looks particularly delicious, all round and golden and beautiful. And no faery will whisper in my ear, luring me to their secret mound where I shall have to resist the temptation of dewdrops and exotic looking food.

I know that Narnia isn't behind a cupboard door, no matter how many times I gleefully try to sneak inside one. I understand that no matter how pretty rose petals look, or how fragrant crushed mint leaves smell - they have no magical property whatsoever, and magic spells don't exist (and anyway, spells need far more exotic ingredients. Rose petals and mint leaves are way too common!). I realize that my car won't speak to me, even if I coax it and name it and coo at it.

Yes. I do read too many books and watch too much TV and replay movies much too often.

But if nothing else, books have taught me that anything and everything is possible. Even if it's just inside my head.

Because I understand that caramel and whiskey is a terrible combination, but the taste that lingers seems to overpower just about everything else.

.my silly kite.

Oh what's the use of holding on..!?
For nowt but burns I have earned,
Though I tried with all my might,
My kite has flown quite as sight..!

Pastels and markers, March 2009
Crossposted at my deviantArt

Time floated away

(Bryce Soderberg of Lifehouse, Arthur's Day, Jakarta, Indonesia. 4th Dec 2010. A version with colours more vivid is cross posted on my deviantarts page. Variations of the pic will be published in the January issue of Nylon Guys Indonesia)

His voice is raspy as he sings along to the radio, and hums fill the gaps where he doesn't quite remember the words. It is all she hears, driving 13o km/h down the highway. He turns to her and smiles, all soft and sweet and girly. She wants to tease him, but instead she grins. And for a moment he is blinded.

Tomorrow brings threats not yet delivered. But they have no prior knowledge, and for this one moment in time, their lives are perfect.

And they are in love.

Whaddap ma hommiiiieeesss!

Said in my accent, it sounds kinda.. off.

Anyhoo.

Relaxing on a gorgeous Saturday morning with a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Wish I had something stronger to lace it with. Mmmm.. *cough* Where was I? Oh yes. Sun. Sun is shinning all bright and pretty, the water in the pool is glistening deliciously, and it's just begging me to come on and take a dip. And where am I? I'm blogging in my parent's air conditioned room, because I really don't want to go to my untouched, super duper messy, shipwreck of a room.

Why am I blogging?

Because apparently I don't do enough writing at work.

No that's not it..

Because I can..! I'm reveling at the luxury of being able to do what I want to, when I want to. Oh the joy of weekends! That, and I have a laser-tag game to get to in about an hour or two. Baby cousin's birthday! I say 'baby', she's 10.. And she's turning into quite the little terror. I love her to bits, but I didn't own that much make up till I was.. 11? 12? Haha. I was going to say 15, but then I realised I started to wear nail polish and make up to school everyday when I was 12.. That stopped when I came back to Indonesia *waves fist at oppresive schools around the country*.

So really we're not all that different. But wait! I didn't have two super awesome 20-something cousins when I was her age. Ah well.. Hugs baby girl, you're all grown up..!

I realize I'm rambling.

But Saturdays are warm and soft and safe. You can't help but be a little wistful, and ramble a little, spitting out every single thing you can think of.. And really, this whole writing out my thought as-they-come-by thing is uber nice. Maybe not for those who end up reading it, but certainly for me.

Yes, my thoughts are really quite inconsequential most of the times.

You should feel lucky that I'm just rambling and my brain isn't serving up some inane questions that I have no answers too. It does that a lot. The significance of cheeseburgers in friendship for instance..

No. I won't go there.

I think I shall go forth and shower now.

Ciao! Adieu! Goodbye dear hearts!

Things I learnt in uni..

I wrote this ages ago, but I never got around to posting it.. So here goes! Enjoy!

***

Move in with people you don’t really know. Because it might be hard to stay friends with someone once you move in with them, but it’s inevitable that you befriend the people you live with.

Pay your bills on time, and move out before your lease runs out.

Establish lines very early on. If you don’t like sharing, it should be known from the start.

Thin walls and thin floors make for funny stories.

Being drunk in public is never as fun as being drunk in your own place.

Midnight talks are reserved for those stories which involve the opposite sex. And the absence of at least a shirt. Oh yeah, you know what stories I’m talking about.

If you can’t drive, don’t be a bitch to the people who can. Seriously.

Roadtrips should be short and sweet, and the routes never repeated.

Know when to walk away, and when you should open your mouth and call someone out on their own bullshit. Pick your friends carefully.

Painting a room is always fun. DIY brings people closer together.

Don’t get stuck in one ‘circle of friends’, jump around and meet as many people as possible. You won’t feel obliged to be nice to everyone that way, and you’ll have this awesome group of friends you can’t wait to introduce to one another.

You don’t need to be friends with someone from the beginning, and you don’t have to know every single detail of someone’s live to adore them, and think of them as your best friends.

Good friends tell you things will be alright. Awesome friends tell you that you’ve been a complete idiot, and things are shitty because it’s your own fault. So get off your fat ass and do something about it.

Leave when you need to. Come back when you’re ready. People will understand.

You don’t need to spend three days on an assignment as long as what you’re writing is structured, and gets to the point straight away. (I rarely meet the target amount of words. Mine are always missing 500 or so words. And the only time I got a B was when my Granddad died.)

Pick a subject to be sucky in, and then excel on the others.

Noodles are delicious. Especially when eaten with eggs, cheese and corned beef. But eating it every meal time for a week will get you sick.

Midnight runs for food should be appreciated. You will never have as much fun, eating out at ungodly hours as when you’re in uni.

IKEA is a bad place to eat “cookies”.

Good boyfriends make awesome exes. Shitty boyfriends should be drowned at sea.

Sugar highs are really as bad as getting drunk.

Food always tastes better when you’re fighting over it.

You should skinny dip at least once. Hot springs are better than normal pools.

hum ho, here it is again.

Dear Person,

I feel stupid for writing a letter to you, as it is quite obvious to even the the stupidest person that you will never read this stupid letter. And even if you do, I think it's pretty obvious that you'd think I was being stupid.

Stupidity aside..

You were absolutely right. You were right about things I wish you weren't right about, and you were right about things that I thought you got wrong, but time has eventually revealed that you were right about.. we.. everything, all along. It's really quite annoying the number of times you've been proven right, and the number of times you could have said 'I told you so'. Oh Person, I'm glad you're not (really) the gloating type.

So.

Person, you really are quite swell. Oh you're not perfect, there's a million and one things that piss me off that I wish I could tell you about.. But you know that that just isn't possible. And anyway, you really are quite fine the way you are.

But that's not what this entry is about. Oh no.

Here it is in a nutshell.. You were right, and I was wrong. And the number of times this has happened may have made me quite frustrated and quite unable to seek second opinions.

BUT.

Ah here's the but..

BUT.. I think I'm good now. I mean, obviously The Matter Which We Discussed has not been solved yet, but yesterday I found myself knocking on a door to ask about The Matter Which We Discussed for a second opinion. There was no one home unfortunately, but nevertheless I knocked.

And I felt good about knocking. I may knock on more doors in the coming weeks.

I would like to say that I can knock now, and I shan't rely on your sole opinion (important thought it is), rest easy, Person.

I'm quite alright.

Hearts a-crying.

It was raining five minutes ago.

18 floors up it looked like Jakarta had been gassed. A misty cloud obscures the streets from view while unforgiving pellets shoot at the window, making everything that little bit harder to see. Now.. Now the sky is dull, like a white wall that's seen too many childish hands.

Uncomfortable, unsettled and extremely uninspired.

Or maybe that's just me, projecting my moods.

It's cold and I'm tired.