MY GOOD ANGLE

I have been having a lot of my pictures taken lately. I have collected more pictures of me in the course of 6 months than I have in most of my adult life. They were snapshots mostly taken with phone cameras in the most mundane poses imaginable. Me eating a bowl of bubur ayam, me sleeping soundly in a blue, hooded jacket, me driving while squinting my eyes from the harsh sunlight, me applying blush-on in front of a mirror, me smiling, me scowling, me laughing, me giving the person behind the lense a 'come to bed' look.

Then there are pictures of us together. Not the perfect couple you see in those perfume ads. But the one you see sitting in front of you at a restaurant while you are having lunch alone. Two people so noticeably engrossed on each other the world doesn't matter.

I was never too keen on having my pictures taken. I have always thought that I was not blessed with a photogenic quality. I often cringed at the sight of my own photographs, my flaws seemed to be glaring right back at me. Thighs looked huge. Do I always smile that way? It's horrible. Eww, greasy hair! Should've held my breath to stop that stomach from bulging.

Now I wonder if I lost some weight or If I have subconsciously changed the way I smile or I am using the right shampoo or that frequent trip to the gym that stopped 6 months ago still have a lasting effect on my abdomen. Or I am just seeing myself in a completely different light because the man taking the shots showed me how.

He couldn't seem to see the things I spent hours in front of the mirror obsessing about. He notices and adores the things about me that I am secretly proud of. He thinks those silly little things I do are cute and picture-worthy.

And you know what? I like me seen through his lense.

UMMM...HELLO?

I suppose I should tell you where I've been all this time. That's what people do when they haven't been heard of for a long time, isn't it? I suppose I should let you know what's been keeping me so busy that I abandoned this blog for nearly 6 months.

I suppose I should tell you how many times I actually sit in front of the monitor, with this window open, trying to write something but unable to think of anything because my mind just went blank. And that I repeatedly had to give up, close the window and let out a big sigh.

I don't know if I should tell you that my life right now finally feels like it's on the right track. But being in the right track could also mean that I don't encounter that many bumps, I don't make sudden turns, I don't skid off the road uncontrollably, I don't lie helplessly on the sidewalks from exhaustion - I just walk. And maybe that's why I can't think of anything to write lately. Because walking straight is uninteresting. And even though the stuff I've been writing on this blog scream "Fool! Desperate! Neurotic!", they're quite interesting.

So I'm happy and uninteresting. And I have perhaps left the old me - who was sad, unloved and ironically, inspired.

So now I guess I'd have to wait until I figure out how to write happy stories in an interesting way to continue updating this blog. Or until the old side of me (who I'm pretty sure is still around somewhere) makes an unexpected appearance and amuse you all with her antidepressants-induced nonsense.

Whichever it might be, I am back. And hopefully to stay.

In Loving Memories of Umam.

One by one, the lights go out.

"let go ipong, he's gone now. Say your goodbye and may he rest in peace"

You all have said your goodbyes, and letting go may be the simplest way to deal with bereavement, the short cut to appease our loss. So the sun will have a way in the morning, and breathing once again will be taken for granted. We live. We must make the most out of it, and we tell each other that and ourselves as we are reminded on how volatile life is.

I lost one of us today. And i lost more than i thought possible to lose. The grief was far from intense. Its closer to happy faces he always made in each of my memories. Pain never felt this smooth, this natural, this powerful. It aches without aching. And crying never felt this easy.

So i chugged down half bottle of wine on behalf of him, his loud laughter, and his jumpy dance moves. I raised my glass up and say "Here's to his life! To our life! To life!" And i imagined him cheer back and chugged down the drink in one gulp and put the glass down with smile only him can do. And im done griefing as we have celebrated life my friend. My good good friend. My dearest friend. We are done grieving cuz your life is furthest possible from grieve. Cuz your smile is the ONLY thing i can remember.


"Pong, ngapain sedih sedih di rumah sendirian, Ke pantai yok. Ga usah dipikirin yang susah susah"
"Pong ke party yuk, gue ada barang nih"
"Waaah selamat selamat pong, gue tau lo bakalan jadi orang sukses"

My farewell party, who jumped the highest? laughed the loudest, drank the most?
My lowest moment, who gave it the high?

Its not so much of letting you go, my friend. Its about every memories painted, too meaningful to depart. The immortality rescuing the lost. The central drive. Its the inside. The juice. The soul. The personal freedom. The person you are.

and dead, you are not, my dearest friend.


so here's to you, UMAM. Jack and coke. Chug it down in one gulp.

To life. To you.


in memories of Umam. He's partying over there with angels.

Queen Of All Excuses

Thursday.

Tommorrow is national holiday. Im not sure whats it for, im just glad we have one day off.
I was very busy yesterday, time of the month doing the budget thing. Always hate to start it but engrossed once in it.
Jay YMed, trying to be cute and all while i just wanted to be left alone. And then he said the alakazam word that made my door open. Door for closetted annoyance. He mentioned love. and marriage. AND KIDS! Alakazam.

"you're freaking me out, dude!"
"haha. i know. It meant to be a joke"
(somehow i doubt it)
"well.. im not laughing"

The thing is, i would be flattered if this didnt come from 18 yrs old kid, aspiring marine, and thought Bush is greatest man alive. I would be flattered if i had slightest feelings for him. I dont. And actually all would still be kept in polite and sweet level if he hadnt brought up the thought of having 2 kids named Sara Joe and Rufus with me. Got married in military celebration complete with guns salutes, and me in a white dress...........Well.... the white dress i dont mind fantasizing about....also the marines style wedding celebration..... but.. 2 kids?? Sara Joe and Rufuss???? (well... sara joe and rufus aint a bad name tho....)
anyway, im off track here. The thing is, the kid is 18. Im over 30. That makes me a generation x elizabeth taylor - holding hands with shiny guy named chad. The thought of me growing up wrinkly and my shiny husband lovingly pulls out my wheelchair shudder me to the core. And how many times do i have to mention that i do not have feelings for this guy.

So what happened next was kind of brutal.

"how can you love me when you dont even know me?
you havent even met me
you're in love with your own illusion of me
me in your head
you dont know how i take my morning coffee
my morning breath
and how i see little things.
what is my favorite color.
what's my family like?
what kinda clothes i like to wear?
how bitchy am i? its different than what you see in the screen
you dont love me.
you're in love with the idea of me

and then he said:
do you think that your favorite color, or your sister, your clothes or how you make your coffee would really change my feelings for you? I love you. that simple. and i wanna be with you

and then i hit it home:
of course it wont, honey. cuz you dont know the real person you're in love with
i am only in your head.
thats why you're in love with me. Like i said.
you dont love me. you love the IDEA of me
and thats hard to beat.
wait till reality kicks you in the ass.
Find a girl who's there and your own age, kiddo.

Then long pause. I waited for the result of my kill

Finally he said:
"I have to go to bed. I talk to you tomorrow"

Im a bad woman. I tainted the a pure heart. Killed it. and this probably would tail him and tag his thought as misleading future reference. Or maybe it wont be that dramatic. But i still feel so bad about it. So the kid loves me. So he wants to marry me or at least fantasize about sleeping with me. So he wants 2 kids. So he wants to raise the family in north carolina, fondling his riffle while reminiscing about his military years. So he wants to have big wedding in mormon church, and he doesnt care whether i am agnostic or a runaway muslim. He simply wants to be with me.
And the thing is, who am i to interrupt his ideal notion of love. Who am i to contaminate him with my acidic view of love. What gives me right to feed him pain just cause i pained. Who am i playing Aphrodite, deciding who to love and not to love.

Who am i but a cold cold woman. (and im wondering why i dont have a friggin boyfriend)

I feel so damn bad now.

Love will tear us apart

I knew i havent written anything real for a looong time for a reason. I knew something is better left hidden and destroyed. I knew that hitting the alphabets is an equivalent to reinventing memories to pain. I knew better to bring down the curtain. All together. Rinsing the past, refresh as stranger. I knew better not to think of you.

But.

It sneaks up. plaguing like a malaria. hot and cold in alternating breathe, and soaked in sweats mistaken as tears.

You cant help this thing. You dont know what other way to avoid it. You have different keys you threw away to preserve the lock. You have sutured the punctured hole, first line up for a transplant for a new emotions. You adopt other addiction (that is to reject bleeding potential carried by many of your names), shut off the evil, reinvent the angel, even confessing to a new faith. And talking to God.

(You've made me oh so creative, dear sir.)

yet you slumped in confusion. Every time. Once a year now. Like a celebration of independence day. And you dont know why.

You won't know until you accept this simple fact:
You see, in the end love will ultimately be the cause of death. Simply becuz of its ability to soar you up and smash you back down and shatter you with gravity of your own emotions. It will (trust me) repeat. And you WILL be left spending the rest of your life collecting the pieces. One. after the other. and praying for glue that would hold it back together.

Day after day. collecting dust. It will start. Then it will end. to begin. again.

till at one point, you're done realizing how broken you are. Like china plates. still pretty. yet impaired.

and then. gradually. you'll begin to accept.

and born anew.



(good luck)

INGENUITY

This is equivalent to

Being hit by a truck and die instantly without feeling any pain

Just bright light and a sense of euphoria

Floating among clouds then straight to heaven

This is equivalent to

Listening to your voice in between the horns

Inside a dark car, your pretty eyes ablaze as bright as the lights on the street

Everytime she sneezes, I believe it's love you sang

And warm liquid was spilling over the brim inside of me

This is equivalent to

Feeling your fingers on my cheeks. No chance to anticipate

Just two gloves fit perfectly in two hands

Turned off my vision and turned on the other sense

A kiss sweeter than vanilla milk steamer

You are like two continents in a single enigmatic world

Separated by a sea of endless faces

Interconnected by an ocean of episodes

And I discovered your curse and your blessing on the same day

MD - 28th of June 2005

I UNDERSTAND NOW

Is that a smile to cover?

The misery you have to endure all this time?

I didn't understand then, but I do now

Just one click from the tip of my finger

Revealed the raw and bitter content of your chest

And I'm sitting here crying

For another heart that breaks

For another soul tormented

For another night long and chilling

Pity is not in me

But I feel

For you

So much that I'm choking on my own tears..

Psoriasis - 28th of June 2005

AN ODE TO THE LIGHTS

Rising high up from the ground
Feeling confined
Trapped in my own little mind
(The mind I call home)

The train has come again
Taking me without a friend
Up and down it goes
And from the peak it rose
I saw the figure of my ghost
(Hiding in the dark corners of the valley)

Note wizards, please sing my despair
Words are my only weapon and Im grasping for air
The lights outside the window fill my cellophane body
Radiating through my cavity and onto somebody else, somebody but me

Reaching is murder
Silence is mutilation

To reach is to freefall
To be silent is to evaporate

7,5 mg - 20th of June 2005