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.

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.

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!

So.

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.

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.

Bags ahoy!

And not the type I'm obsessed over either. Talking about bags under my eyes, great, big, black bags that make me look like I've not slept in years.

Below is a very careful, very accurate picture of me:


Although I was informed that the hair was nowhere near curly enough to resemble me. So this was my second attempt:

I'm guessing it's still not curly enough, as my hair has the tendency to frazzle under stress. Not that I'm stressed. I don't think I am anyhoo.

I just REALLY need to be at the beach. NOW.

I was over at The Dork's house (hence known as D or Dork) the other day with Bee (buzz buzz), The Overachiever (hence known as TO), and Quin.. And we were having fun, just relaxing, watching a movie that seemingly went no where.. Well, I say 'we'. They watched the movie, I fell asleep about a quarter of the way in. It was SO NICE.

I miss bumming around so much. Jakarta is.. hectic. I love this city but I always feel like I'm hurtling towards something. Even in traffic I feel rushed.

I just need a quick weekend getaway.

Dear J,

It's been a couple of months since I last thought of you.

I don't think I ever voiced my thoughts about you to anyone before. But today I feel like the world should hear about a wonderful soul that left way too early.

Do you remember when we first met? I don't. Not really. My memories of you are fading, and you'll never know how much that bothers me. I can't remember your eyes anymore. Were they squinty or wide? They never look right when I try to imagine your face again. If I try really hard, I think I can remember the sound of your voice, calling my name. I always thought you were a late bloomer because your voice hadn't fully broke yet, but there were hints of how your voice would sound when you laughed.

You know, one of the best memories I have with you is of you, me and Rhesa laughing because all three of us were failing both Maths AND Physics. Remember how we had competitions on who'd get the best score on quizzes? And how we never passed a quiz, yet there was always a clear winner.. That was fun! I don't remember how you reacted when I said that I was dating Rhesa, but I can still remember your huge grin when you smiled and said "he still REALLY likes you!" when we broke up sometime after.

I can still see your hair. That's weird, right? That I can still clearly see that hair, when it frustrates me that I can't remember much else about your appearance other that your lips and hair. Your semi-mohawk. Not because you were trying to be cool, you didn't even do it deliberately! Your hair just grew weird like that.

But seriously, I miss the way you laughed.

My memories of you in our first year of high school is filled with laughter and high fives and those few weeks that you first dissappeared. Did I try calling you? Did I text you? I don't remember anymore. But you were suddenly gone, and no one knew where you went. I must have looked for you, right? I must have..??? Because school was weird without you. And you know I don't get along with the girls in our class. You disappeared sometime before the epic fight between me and the girls happened. It was.. funny. You would have enjoyed it, I think.

I'm sorry that I wasn't really around for you when you came back. But I just didn't understand. And you were in a different class. And you kept disappearing again. I remember people talking about you. How they didn't like it that you kept disappearing in the middle of a week-long group assignment. I tried telling them that you were always responsible and that you wouldn't have left without a good reason. And I always looked forward to seeing you permanently-covered head bobbing past my classroom doors.

I wondered about your hats. And your sudden weight gain, but we were in high school, and people's physical appearance changed fast. I wondered, and I know you tried to tell me once.. I'm sorry I didn't listen. When you said "Hey you know last night's Julia Roberts movie? Dying Young?", I knew instantly, I wanted so badly to un-hear it. I was f*cking scared. I didn't let you finish and we spoke about classes instead.

I'm sorry I walked away before I could hug you.

I'm sorry I'm such a shitty friend.

Some stuff went down that year. And I left Bandung. I never got to see you again, and that will always be one of my biggest regrets.

Hey J.. I was devastated when someone casually mentioned you had passed away. She went to your church, and she said you got sick again. I don't remember how I reacted to the news, but I remember how I cried that night. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. You deserve a better friend.

Do you know I still think of you? Every few months. And I wonder what you would have become had your cancer gone into remission. I think you would have gone into IT or something related to computers. I don't know why, as I don't even remember if you were any good with computers. We wouldn't be in regular contact, because you know what I'm like.. But we'd drop each other lines from time to time. I imagine you would have grown into your thick, pouty lips, and your strange semi-mohawk. Your laughter would be loud and joyful, and that grin.. That grin of yours that lit up the room, it would have gotten you a really cute girlfriend. That much I'm sure.

I think of you at the strangest time.. like when I'm driving to work.. and always there's a pang, and a flashback of you laughing. Of all the things I'll forget in the coming years, I hope your laughter wont be one of them.

So J, I hope that somewhere out there you feel loved. You still have people that care, who think of you from time to time. The world lost out on a lot when you went.

Much love,
A.

My life in books: How it all started.

Yesterday I read a fantastic book. It was.. amazing. I'll talk about that one another day, as it deserves some special attention. It had many fantastic passages, and so many lovely tid-bits to quote, but one that made me think was this tiny bit about people never forgetting That First Book.

You know - the one that started it all. That got you thinking that this reading lark is fun. It mentioned that you'll never forget that book, and it got me thinking about my very own First Book, and how I could mark out my life, in books. So this will be the first of many posts about books, and what they mean to me.

I've been an avid reader for as long as I can remember. I remember rushing home to read Donald Duck comics under a shady tree, or sneaking into my brother's room to grab his copy of STOP, and Archie comics, and reading encyclopedias by torch light (I know. Geek.).. But my First Book was this little gem:

Jacqueline Wilson's The Suitcase Kid.

It was the start of winter, the year was 1994, and I was 8 years old, estranged in this wonderful new place, with lots of pale kids running around. My perma-Asian-tan was a novelty, and so was my accent. It was Reading Time, and since I didn't have a book with me, I was given a trip to the library and this was the first of many books I would borrow from the school.

I don't remember who recommended it to me.. Was it Amy or Hazel (my first friends at St. Sid's!) or was it the lady helping out at the library? Either way, magic happened the moment I sat down in my little plastic chair in front of Mrs. Bushin's table. I picked it up and was immediately thrown into Andy's world. A child of divorce, Andrea (ANDY!) bounced from one home to another, dealing with step-siblings and strange family dynamics. The book is divided quaintly into 26 chapters, each starting with a letter from the alphabet.. A is for.. B is for.. etc. And I couldn't get enough.

My own parents were happily married, so I couldn't possible understand what this girl was going through.. But as long as I had that book in my hand, I felt like I knew exactly what she was feeling, and I was her friend.

The book had given the key to this whole other world, and upon finishing the book, I couldn't wait to get another chance to visit the library. If I liked reading before, I was positively in love with it after this book. It's not 'the best children's book EVER WRITTEN!!one!11!one!!', but it was one that opened my eyes to this whole other world where literally anything could happen.

I don't think I realized the significance this book would hold in my life, but looking back now.. The stuff I read before were probably not age/reading-ability-appropriate, and so I couldn't digest it as well as I could Ms. Wilson's book. And revisiting my old haunts now, I still love them very much, but The Suitcase Kid has a Very Special place in my heart as my First Book.

After Ms. Wilson, there was Mr. Dahl, Mr. Lewis, and Ms. Smith to occupy my time, and after that there was a whole brigade of authors, but The Suitcase Kid had been my key to the world of words. And I'll be forever grateful.

And I have to ask - what was yours???

.. to be continued .. :)

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.

Gone

They left.

One by one they left. Leaving behind scratches and scraps, remnants of something that was once so beautiful. So perfect.

And here I am. Alone.

Restless but unmoving. A dead weight on the bed as my eyes madly trace imaginary patterns on the white washed walls, desperately trying to focus on one single thing. My hands lay numb by my sides, twitching every so often, wanting.. needing to move.

Nothing is holding me down but I'm paralyzed.

They're gone. The beautiful creations of man that I once happily drowned myself in.

The words are gone, and my thoughts are tangled and caught in a web of confusion, an incoherent mess with no end.

For the first time in so long, I'm alone.

I swear. The words are gone and I'm feeling lonely and somewhat lost. I used to write so much shit and it was all stupid and wonderful and frustratingly addictive. But I can't anymore. And yes, it makes me sad.

Bandung, January 2010

Unlike some of my smarter slash more.. diligent - (God, for some reason I hate that word) - friends who finished uni much, much earlier than me.. I'm not quite done yet. I'd like to say it's because of some unavoidable reason I can't really disclose in a public space, but truth is I'm a really, really lazy girl. So I have to keep going back-and-forth from Jakarta to Bandung, because really.. truth be told - I can't stand Bandung these days. It's boring. And annoyingly peaceful.

I used to love that place so much I only came home when my mum started complaining she never saw me. Or I'd visit Jakarta just for the day on an insane whim with my friends, driving 2 hours to Jakarta to eat noodles and then rush back to Bandung for classes. I loved Bandung so much that I vowed I was going to move permanently there when I finished uni.

That was before I realized I loved Bandung because I had my friends with me 24/7 since I lived in Ciumbuleuit - a stretch of road that was brimming with UNPAR students (and where UNPAR is actually located in). Most of my friends lived a couple of houses away, the farthest one was located a mere 15 minutes drive away. Food was abundant, and my favourite places delivered right to my door - which meant I once spent a whole week without showering with Jo and Adin, in Jo's room, eating take outs and watching trashy TV shows, only showering when we couldn't stand how smelly we were. And with everything being only an arm's reach away from one's place of residence, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see people milling around in their pj's at all hours of the day.

I realize how disgusting this sounds, but we missed classes for the whole week and it was a one-off performance, never to be repeated as we all repented soon after. I swear I always showered if I had to attend classes (except for the few times I didn't wake up in time.. and that one time I almost missed my exams).. And it was so much fun!

ANYWAY! It was so weird to be back and realize I didn't recognise anyone. And its probably the main reason I'm so fed up with Bandung when I have to go see my thesis-advisor. Everyone is a stranger. The kids lounging around my campus, the ones having lunch at my favourite haunts, people at the photocopy centre.. Oh the people at the internet place grinned when they saw me, the janitor greeted me and we had a chat, and the lady serving me noodles was as lovely as ever - but everyone else was a stranger.

When you live 24/7 in one place you quickly recognise its residents, and for the first time - I realized I was the guest. Not the inhabitant. Strange feeling.

Seeing one of my old homes being.. dismantled only added to the feeling.


I moved a couple of times in the 4 years I was there - almost once every year in fact. And probably the most memorable one was RaBen - this house that was falling apart. The floor in front of our second floor bathroom was rotted, so we always had to jump to get to and from it. The railing were broken on the stairs - which happened on one extremely drunken night, courtesy of yours trully and a friend. My room was so damp that my bag would grow mould if I didn't use it regularly, meethz would probably also add that she once found mouldy chicken bones in my room (courtesy of my brother who ate KFC in my room, wrapped the bones in tissue and then forgot to throw it away before a 3 month break)

Seeing the old place getting torn down was awful. Even though it hasn't been fit to live in for a while now.

I miss my Ciumbuleuit. With my friends living around me, and gossip travelling faster than the speed of light, I miss the way music and movies got shared around.. Like I said - I miss MY Ciumbuleuit.

Even the shops around campus has changed. A lot of my fave haunts have dissapeared.

Well. At least one thing still remained. Pak Moes' place - noodles with corned beef and cheese, and a half boiled egg. It never fails to make me sigh and grin like an idiot. Unhealthy AND delicious - a perfect combination!


Grraaagh. So many things about uni was just.. perfect. But I have to graduate soon. Like this month. Or next month. Before my 24th birthday!

Lesigh.

On writing..

I was such a productive little shit when I was 15. I hate myself. Seriously. Looking back, I'm disgusted at how much time I could spend writing. Hours upon hours upon hours of writing and editing.

Yes, this is 23 year old me, being jealous of the 15 year old I used to be.

I had a discussion with my best friend a while back.. We both feel like we're really shit at writing fiction now. Around 2001/2002, we were seriously addicted at writing. And it wasn't all shit either. There are some stuff I wrote back then that I'm still quite proud of. Not necessarily brilliant, but so much better than my stuff now.

I think.. I think that I should probably have stuck by NaNoWriMo (which to be honest, really isn't possible right now).

I have pages upon pages upon pages of excerpts. Just bits and bobs that I worked on years ago. A sentence or two that I can probably expand into a longer piece.. Just a ton of un-edited words piled up in my room. Remnants on when my brain didn't over analyze the words which spewed out of me.

And one of these days.. Soon.. I'm going to take 30 days and I'm going to do my own NaNoWriMo. Because I need to have fun again.

Frankly, over thinking sucks.

FISIP UNPAR 2004

Introducing Parahyangan Catholic University's Faculty of Social Sciences, class of 2004.

Taken within the first few days of being "grown ups" when we had no idea what that title really meant.

I spent around 5 years with them. I ended up living with several of these lovely people, spent 24 hours a day 7 days a week giggling and escaping class, fell in love (and broke it quite dramatically), had my car broken into, went on several awesome roadtrips, routine midnight outings and other silly things "young people" got up to.

I miss living in Ciumbuleuit dearly.

ARGH! Feeling suddenly nostalgic. It's all Dork-boy's fault. (btw.. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DORKMEISTER!!)

A couple of us gathered last night to throw my friend a surprise party. In the old days this would mean hordes of people sneaking out of their houses in their varied sleep-attire, and meeting up in front of the birthday person's place. It's much harder now we've all split up an are scattered all over the place.

But we managed. Sort of.

Laughing with them makes me miss the old days quite badly. The quips and running commentary on anything and everything.. The bad puns and hilarious jokes. I miss them so much, I wonder why we don't hang out more often.

Lesigh.

The distance between places, the traffic jams, the jobs.. Grraaghh.

I MISS YOU, FISIP 2004!
And I miss living in close proximity with you guys.

Oh yeah.

I think I was about 6 or 7..? Forced into wearing a scratchy and stuffy veil as part of Friday's uniform. Oh and that piece of paper I'm holding? An award for coming in second in class. Oh yeah.

We had a reunion of sorts last week, and it was really fun guessing who each person who came in the door was. Then of course there was a fun round of 'who-had-a-crush-on-who-back-in-the-day', which I skipped stealthily! (It was the guy in the white hat by the way. Hahaha.). Then came several rounds of remembering embarrassing moments and funny anecdotes.

Ah happy memories of simpler (and apparently smarter..) times.

If you're ever in the area..

.. send my love, and tell her I miss her dearly.

If you ever get the chance to go to England, and wish to spend a quiet day relaxed, go to Exeter. Drink a cup of tea and feel humble in front of the cathedral. Take a walk by the quay and smile at strangers. Stroll through the high street and enjoy the bustle - stop by St. George's market (if it's still there) at any time of day and have a breakfast of chips, sausages and eggs. Visit the library and close your eyes for a moment. Go over to The House That Moved and marvel at the absurdity of moving a whole house. Peek in corners and passages for strange hidden delights.

Go to Pennsylvania, past Elliott Close, past the corner shop. All the way down to the recycling bins.. Walk towards the bushes and find the hidden path to eat wild blueberries. Stain your mouth and enjoy the burst of flavour, and wash your hands in the titchy stream. Watch out for the horse poop.

One day I'll be back. To eat fish and chips near the statue of the blue boy. Or grab a crepe, hopefully you'll remember me Crepe Man. Thank you for the delicious treats and feeding me even when I didn't have enough money. Now excuse me while I spend a few minutes bawling.

The House That Moved.

I took a lot of these pictures from the Exeter group over at facebook. Fek.

Unbelievably sentimental

(Yes. The picture above is of my inbox - Everything is neatly sorted into folders. 'Cause that's how I roll.)

I'm one of those people who have to work hard at getting rid of clutter, I'd be convinced I'd need something for.. whatever reason it is I've convinced myself I'd need stuff for. I'll eventually throw stuff out, but it does take me a while to come to that decision!.. but I never throw cards and letters away.

The habit has sort of been continued to email, which I have mixed feelings about. On the one hand - unlimited space! No real life clutter! But.. I've lost so many emails from my bestest friends because I forgot to log in to my hotmail account after I switched over to yahoo. It's still an annoying itch I can't scratch when I'm reminded of the hundreds of lost correspondence. I've learnt my lesson! - I print them out these days.

But yeah.. Its icky when I remember the lost letters, because every few years I like to dig these up and read them over. Its a bittersweet experience, a roller-coaster ride of memories and emotions.

I don't exactly know what changed, but I seem to hardly ever write letters and emails anymore. Its possibly because I can always just text the people I want to contact, or chat online with them, or twitter them a message, or even send a short note on facebook.. The possibilities are endless. But I do miss taking the time out to compose a long letter, sometimes just rambling about the most random subjects and waiting excitedly for a reply.

I make such a fuss over this probably because I like having a record of my life on paper. Or at least some sort media which I can look over any time I want.

This is possibly also why I have a stack of journals I hide, as well as this online record.

Paints ahoy..!

I was sorting through my pictures and I found this.. This is what happens when you leave your paints out and leave me with them for 5 minutes. I start painting on myself.

I remember that day very clearly.. My mum came in and gave a strangled shout, and started laughing. She then chased me out of her room by throwing stuff at me.

I was 19 at the time.

No. I have no self control when I have a chance to make a mess.

*cheers* :D *cheers*

I AM THE GOBLIN KING..!

David Bowie as the Goblin King from Labyrinth. But now.. now.. I am the Goblin King! Yes I am feeling quite silly right now. Other than the fact I've been having a Russell Howard-Jon Richardson podcast marathon, I've just been very giddy.

Presenting.. The source of my giddyness..! The Greatest Present Of All Time.


Yes. Make up. I love, love.. LOVE make up. And nail polish. And colour. I love colour. And make up. I just really love being a girl! *JOY*

And not for any cool reason, or girly facts like 'Oh I like to look pretty', and I have no real skills with make up either! (Unlike my ex housemate, Dinsuy or Neng Tya).. I just really like playing with make up..!


This was approximately 5 minutes ago. Yes - that is blue and pink and purple and silver and green. Crap pic, you can't really see the colours - but yes. It was LOUD and so very funny. I couldn't stop giggling. Its a shame I didn't have any liquid eye liner - I would have drawn all kinds of swirls and lines if I had.

My family complains that I laugh at the randomest thing, at the most random times - its because I sometimes remember the things I get up to when I'm left on my own..! Haha!

But yes.

I love make up. It makes me giddy.

I'm forever a 5 year old, cooing at colours when it comes to make up. I don't know what I'm doing, I just slap it on my face. Its sooo sooo fun.

(David Bowie is up there because as I remembered it, the Goblin King had outrageous make up on - my memory fails me. But I still had fun skipping around my room, wearing a cloak with make up on my face and crowing 'I AM THE GOBLIN KINGGG!!!')

Simple smiles

One of my random happy memories is of walking away from my cousin's house and spotting an old lady peering out of her window across the street. I smiled spontaneously at her and waved. She gave me the biggest smile I have ever seen and waved back.

I love smiling at strangers and have them smile right back at me.

Yesterday I was in my car, my window still winding up after I paid for parking. I smiled at the parking attendant and thanked him, and I was blinded by his smile. I always try to thank people and smile as I go about my daily chores, but its quite rare to receive a blinding smile in return.

A while back I posted a video called Validation (post found here), which never fails to cheer me up.. And though the video is a huge exaggeration of the positive outcomes of smiles and compliments, it does help remind me to be positive.

Random memories of strangers smiling at me is a strangely satisfying reward. I'm not a great believer in people, in general.. But sometimes.. Sometimes humanity is a-okay. You're alright in my book today.

AHA! :D

Tell me you didn't sh*t yourself laughing when you play the clip..! Oh dear lord Mark Paul Gosselaar as Zack Morris - My first TV boyfriend.

Seriously. HUGE crush. I loved Zack Morris - haven't met a guy like him yet, unfortunately. But I can still wish, right? ;P

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