a shoulder and a heartbeat

“Eh, Ibu Tiza.. !”, my mom would say as I trudge in through the door round midnight and kick off my pointy black high-heeled shoes, exhausted. Dad would tease me in the mornings as I sit beside him in the car, neat and legal savvy in my ironed blouse and skirt, he’d say the only thing I lack is the monthly paycheck! They’re amused with my stories, worried about my kuliah, and pissed with my weekend practices. “You’re trying to solve the world’s problems by yourself!” Dad had said once when I was in a last minute rush and did not ask his help. Checked me a bit, that one did. But what it all boils down to is this constant fluctuation, consistent yet not dull, scheduled yet unpredictable. Harsh, but supportive. Fascinating, and comforting; discovering that discovery of life…
And at the end of the day, I would get to kick off my heels and savour the contentment. And, if I’m lucky, I would get a perfect shoulder and a heartbeat to rest my exhaustion on, sneakingly, briefly. Come to think of it, it wasn’t so much to rest my exhaustion than it was to… express my contentment.
*smile*

The nice fat lady bade them a good holiday in Paris. The City of Lights.
And sure enough they found themselves on a Wednesday in Paris, in a little bohemian boulangerie.
The waiters spoke French, the menu was French, the music playing in the background was French, the very posters on the wall were French. But this did not intimidate them, did not make them uncomfortable. Because they were wise, or tactful, enough to know how to generate their own realm of comfort, by following a simple rule: When in France, do as the French do!
So they thought of twirling, of spreading their arms wide and spinning themselves to dizzying heights, releasing inhibitions with reckless abandon. But twirling is only allowed in Turkey.
They thought of doing a samba, where she could sway her summer skirt and they’d watch the sunset as it bleeds into the sea, turning the beach into an orange coloured spectrum, to match the colour of the walls in the little Parisian parlour where they sat. Or the colour of a parrot’s chest. But sambas are only allowed in Brazil.
No, the French do something else.
The French (bless their wine-filled souls) ... they fall in Love.

And so it was on that sweet little Wednesday, three days after Bob Marley’s birthday, two days after the Brazillian samba festival, and on the day of the New Year of Fortune, that they fell in Love. It was in Paris, in the city of Lights, that incidentally they felt exceptionally Bright.
It was the night that they became We... and they felt... Complete.

It resembles a blast.
That shoots you up bursting beyond the sky and through the stars.

Best Oralist !! WASHINGTON !! And he who has just ended his I and begun being You... It’s too perfect. I’ve never had so much fun in my life. And the preceding hard work, sleepless nights, and mental exhaustion, serves to enhance the end result, making it very, very...sWeeet.
And the best thing is that it doesn’t end there like most victories do. It’s just begun. A myriad of doors are open now, a million things to expect, a million things unexpected.
But, I could always start with Central Park, ducks, and cherry blossoms... =)


“what does the trophy say?”
“it says… I’m a very good oralist! I wonder how they figured that out…”
*laughs* “it must be the pout…”
“It must’ve been the pout. And the lucky charm.”
“It had nothing to do with luck. And you already have the charm.”



Jessup 2005

Did I mention my new year’s resolution?
To pay more attention to detail.
Whatever that means. In the widest, in every aspect of the word. From the general to the specific. From the crucial to the trivial. It sounds ambiguous and is ambiguous really, well at least when I decided upon the resolution I hadn’t got a clear grasp of what I intended to do, I just sort of thought it would be a good resolution for this year. For some reason. I just wanted, vaguely, to know details. I thought it would give me an upper hand. Surprisingly, the significance of it is forming by itself, in the first few days after the year’s start.
The people I meet, who have that extra added appeal because they can observe things that other people miss. The work that I do, which requires details to be scrutinized and makes no room for mistakes. A quote that I come across, told in the ungodly hours of truthfulness, that goes “what is an intellectual? An intellectual is a person who knows the details.”

No doubt, if I keep unconsciously being aware of this vague determination, signs and concrete examples of it will start filtering through, educating me, inspiring me, and ultimately shaping me. Theoretically. Well, empirically also. Unconsciously being aware? That’s such a paradox…
Anyway.
It’s the hardest thing. Or maybe I’m just exhausted. Physically, mentally.
Exhausted.

The problem is that there’s none
Life is imperfect say some
People are imperfect say all
Yet my prejudice must fall
Think about the possibilities !
Rushing through life like a breeze
Think about the impossible dreams
Suddenly possible, it seems

I’m thrilled to the bone
Smiling over the phone
Feeling constantly enthralled
Mind, soul, senses, and all
The slightest gesture could please
As we playfully tease...

Leaving an afterglow of hope
Dangling on a teasing rope
That time will not withhold
as thoughts reveal, emotions unfold
That time would seemingly freeze
leaving us in a puddle of dreams, up to our knees

A rare perfection, rather like home
A cozy, tempting comfort zone
Where details however trivial
Turn into pleasure, pure and inspirational
And answers to millions of queries
Shall be resolved with whatever life carries
Exciting, unpredictable scenes
Where I end and every thought begins

with you.

coffee, cranes and cookies

...and if the night, and the atmosphere, and the conversation could be described i would call it... effervescent ;)
In a comfortable, cozy sort of way.

On rainy days like these the mind wanders, turning pale-like and translucent. Thin, filmy and shimmering like a mysterious, see-through shroud. Is it obvious when my eyes stare out the window, seemingly oblivious to the world? Is it obvious when I smile, for it is an honest smile marred with a tinge of aching hope, unsure yet whether it has occasion to smile so honestly, so betrayingly. So in between an undecided smile and unseeing eyes, the details become vivid and beautiful. The way the air is suffused with rain and excitement, like little pellets of anticipation dominating every particle I breathe. It’s like a secret sense, forming yet another layer deep inside, hidden and unknown to others and driving you mad with hesitant pleasure…

Amused to report that this blog is the proud winner of a hardrock fm quiz! Vitri was listening to the station, they were checking out people's blogs for best blogs and she urged me to send them my address, which i did. Then i completely forgot the whole thing. Two weeks later, got an sms and well, apparently we won! (we = the blog and i)
So i got two tickets to the movies, premier of wicker park, pretty good movie for a freebie :) Well done !

The euphoria has dwindled down and left me with the shapeless residue you find at the bottom of the cup.
The shades have shifted from confusion to dejection, and finally indifference. I never was one to stay in stagnant conditions. But the next time it comes, I’ll be so easy. So very easy I’ll wonder if it’s cheap. But being true to yourself is rare… and immaterially expensive. Life will flow and curve gently around bends… and I will yieldingly follow… flowing and gushing and rushing and sparkling and, letting it awaken me or kill me. Just for this special occasion, allow me to be irrational. Allow me to harbour impossible dreams. Allow me to go against the grain. Allow me to fall in love, if that’s what it is.
Mediocrity is a crime, don’t you think ?

dinner (main course), talk, and a coupla drinks...
so it was, and so it turned out to be one of those rare conversations you don't really want to end, sipping wine and talking of shoes and ships and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings, err.. unliterally speaking.
He had a lovely smile.

exhale

*stretch*
oh, this is such a luxurious feeling, waking up, feeling fresh, and thinking, "now what do i do?" Absolutely sublime ! i've decided to watch a dvd, about five of them are piling up untouched since... last semester or something. I'm waiting for the results, meanwhile planning to make the most of this void space in time before judgement day.
And preparing myself for the worst.

so now i write. i have nothing more to lose.
Nothing more to fight for, nothing more to keep me in constant suspense and agitation.
did i do my best, did i try my best? I think i did.
Was i the best? i doubt it. I can't figure anything out, i can't measure my chances. There's nothing to do but wait.
And if i don't make it, I'll be ready. ---> i made it !! :) Jessup team 2005 !


jazznite

by the way... ini foto waktu manggung perdana di Zoom... hehe
It was one of those kamikaze things you need to do every now and then :D

like a reel my mind flashes back
dropping memories into my pool of thought
with an icy cold splash awakening
with a bottomless sound echoing
but i close my eyes and cling to you
and the world shrinks, wrapping itself tightly around us
shredding its cold debris, dispersing like dust
warming, breathing, and releasing...
you didn't let me lose you
you didn't let me feel the pain...
is this fair ?

a torpor came over me and i was left in the dark
i might have slept, who knows?
through the open window the cold dawn
shrouded my pain with a blanket of rain

hope, you died too soon
longing, so soon you arrived
when one leaves, the other's not far behind
to cry?.... if i have no tears
heart, why don't you stop?

last one standing

now. it's late and i just got back. hellishly tired, not enough sleep. but good. busy. challenging.
do i care ? i do. but i don't have time to care. i push it down, deep... and focus on issues at hand. Concrete, solvable issues. things you can answer. things you can actually explain. and at the end of the day, it doesn't even haunt my dreams... sleep is too precious and short to provoke dreams.

she wants to go to her little corner and cry
she doesn't know why...
they thought she was intimidatingly strong
that she'd prove everybody was wrong
she walked like she owned the earth
her constant smile is full of mirth
but deep inside her fragile heart
her soul is being torn apart...

Mais uma luz
Uma luz a mais na cidade
Penso em voce
Sonho maior da realidade
Se vivo sozinho
E pra seguir meu proprio caminho
Tente entender quem sou
Tao desigual em tudo
Que voce quer que eu seja
Mais uma luz.

One more light
One light more in the city
I think about you
A dream greater than reality
If I live alone
It’s to follow my ways
Try to understand who I am
I’m always the opposite of your expectations
One more light.

Life is a coagulation of complex strategies. It becomes that way after a while, after about.. say, twenty years. When choices are no longer limited to doing or not doing, saying or not saying. It’s always too late to turn back and too early for drastic changes. There’s always a cause for the cause and a consequence for the consequence.
Hit me and I’ll bruise, stab me and I’ll bleed, but perhaps I won’t die.
Perhaps she would love the pain that spreads and exaggerates itself like a venom,
stinging her and awakening her to the fact that she is still alive.
She picks herself up, dusts herself off and starts all over again.
And in between she feels, FEELS ! the splendour and pleasure of feeling,
if only to feel pain, rather than become a numb white futuristic doll,
perfect beyond sanity.
She digs her own graves, cries her own drowning pools,
and laughs at the funny irony of life, and love,
and laughter itself.
Kiss me, and I will bloom for you, glow for you.
Slowly unravel, and reveal layers.. and layers.. and layers of coagulated complexities, individually simple, and absurdly frail.
She would challenge you, knowing you would not dare.
She would not challenge you, knowing you may not be worth it if you do not dare.
She would scorn you, and hate you, and love you.
Then she would laugh, brokenly, at the funny irony of life, and love.
And she would go to sleep with you on her mind, acting as if she cared about the world

Saturday night clubhopping. I mean literally.
We started from Centro, moved to Embassy after making a pitstop at Banana Café, and finished off at Club Monaco.
Only because my sophisticated friends managed to get freepasses to all 3 clubs. Only because it was a girls night out.
A month ago I wouldn’t have imagined myself clubhopping. But there you go, life is strange.
All places are identical, really. They may boast different atmospeheres, different music, different dj’s, but when you’re in a club, you’re in a club. You’re in a place that’s dark with blinking laser lights that allow you to see in blinks, with cigarette smoke densely formulating in the atmosphere. With music that thumps and sends vibrations to your chest until you can no longer distinguish your heart beat and the beat of the music. With people, moving and doing their thing in their respective narrow spaces in the crowd, some oblivious to all except the music, some rather awkward and self-consciously. The dancing, the drinking, the release from inhibition. The occasional guy who gives you 'the look' and starts dancing his way towards you, moving along to your rhythm and finally leaning over to shout a pick-up line in your ear.

Left the club at 3, slept late into the morning. Washed out, unsuccessfully, the smell of smoke out of my hair. Sat in the morning sunlight eating peanut butter toast, listening to the brazillian jazz sounds of Eliane Elias.
I’d trade all the freepasses in the world for a moment like this.

New habit this semester, every subject dealing with international law gives us tasks in which we are to translate and summarize given english articles on international law, every time we have class. My main concern is I won’t be able to skip class at all. Tragic!
It’s the new Dean, supportive and visionary proffessor who feels students majoring in international law should know what they’re getting themselves into, they say daunting books if you’re lucky, written in the most unpractical english if you’re unlucky. So should students think ‘shit I can’t do this’, they’d best think it at the very beginning of the semester so that they could still bail out. The new system has successfully driven away a few people from int’l law, in the course of two days. Not surprised, after the single page article we had to summarize today took more than an hour to complete, half an hour spent in privately discussing what it actually meant. Personally, I’d rather blame the intelligent scholar who wrote the damn thing for not using plain english. On a more serious note, it is rather fun and challenging... god I’m going to regret saying that.

Wrote this in highschool, 5 years ago

It’s the effort that makes you cringe away from its inconstant beauty.
You wake up and find it staring, glowering at you like a deadline,
telling you to wake up and appreciate it
(and get snappy coz it doesn’t last forever)
And if it’s a game, why should I appreciate it?
And if it’s a dream, why should I be living in it?
And if it’s a process to get “there”, why should I go there?
If I surpassed its bounds, a sinner I would be.
And yet I am a free soul.
Boundless. Relentless.
Sinless?
Look but don’t touch.
Touch, but don’t taste
Taste, but don’t feel
Feel, but don’t enjoy
Enjoy, but not too much
Because we are free sinners.

I’ve come a long way since then, finding answers along the way.
Important to refresh my mind on that because… I’m twenty and a hell of a lot of challenges are coming my way.
Musn’t get carried away.
(hey, that rhymes..)

He said..
"...I dont know Teez... sometimes I feel that You're just too good to be true! I even think that I'm not worthed at all... I mean, there you are... so high, and so PERFECT! while here I am.., moaning.. cryin' my life, disgusted to look on my own reflection!I love thee, Teez... but I dont know if I deserve someone like you... I dont know if I could level you.. I'm not running away, I'm just scared... that's all..."

I've been thinking about it for a while and... there just really is no response to that.
I mean.... Fine.

Nobody's perfect.... shirimasen deshyoka