...with a cup of coffeeand a swing of jazz...

...to hell with pride, let it fall like rain from my eyes...

2011-03-21T22:36:00.010+11:00

Currently listening to: Tonight I Wanna Cry - Keith Urban

.erasethisandsetmefree.

GA718, DPS-MEL, February 2011

I'm tired.

Leave, if you will.

Go, for if it's outside of your wish then there really is no more reason to stay.

My pain is through and my tears are dry.

If memories are stardust then I have let mine fly, sprinkled over the dark night sky.

If only this mess could be taken away from me.

Somehow.

...i'm a man of many wishes, i hope my premonition misses...

2010-10-28T10:11:00.000+11:00

.hollow.

Platform 2, Melbourne Central Station, Oct 2010

...For what is life,

but a long, arduous, endless wait?

...But what I really feel

My eyes won't let me hide,

'Cause they always start to cry...

...can't be your savior, i don't have the power...

2010-10-02T23:34:00.012+10:00

Currently listening to: Circle the Drain - Katy Perry

.concretejungle.

Spencer Street, Melbourne, July 2010

Let's talk about tolerance.

You know how there's ALWAYS at least one person around you who blindly accepts whatever's relevant to their dismal capacity and hates everything else, right?

Yes, those ballistic, ignorant muthaflippers who think that this world as we know it is now fucked beyond repair and is directly heading down a dark, gloomy path to a certain fiery furnace filled with weeping and gnashing of teeth. Basically these self-haters still believe lawbreakers should be stoned to death and women should always stay home with the kids. Some may even stoop so low they choose to refer to inspirational pop icons like Kylie Minogue or Lady Gaga as vicious minions of the antichrist, if that makes sense.

These people would cling to their convictions like baby koalas to their mothers and reject contradictory claims about their judgment with stubborn verbal swipes so sharp and swift even Bill O'Reilly would be put to shame. If that doesn't work, more often than not they will resort to direct violence, with public beatings and fire-starting as two of their most effective means of destruction. Trying to negotiate with them is roughly equivalent to yelling to a brick wall: you get no coherent answer, your throat gets dry and your voice strained after a while, and the problem at hand stays unresolved. But try giving the wall even the slightest of touch and the entire facade will collapse on you, covering you in ruin. Get it?

What sad, pathetic little creatures, these blokes are. There should be a special resting place dedicated just for them, with colorful balloons and green tea cupcakes and other silly what-have-yous, where they can talk about dirty politics and self-repression all day so they will stop being bitter little bastards and move the hell on. Now that may solve the problem at the very least. But I digress.

And in case you're wondering, I'm fully aware of the fact that I may be exaggerating just a little with my speech. But you get my point.

Anyway.

Let's say you and I both have a certain something we seriously - and I mean SERIOUSLY - love. I love my A, and you love your B. Long story short, for some reason I begin to hate B, and your borderline-obsessive fondness towards that wrinkly, disgusting entity does nothing to help me get over my rapidly blossoming resentment. Soon enough I find myself sulking over the fact that you're being a retarded imbecile for choosing to love B so effin' much, and I'm convinced that having B in your life has ruined you in and out.

What do I do then?

Do I go out of my way and tell you off for being foolish and blind? Do I march into your house with a steak knife and demand to stab your beloved B repeatedly until he/she/it breaks? Do I spread hateful statements about B through every single social platform I have access to just to piss you off? Do I attempt to break down the fence to your house or burn down your entire front lawn just to make my blatantly-offensive actions even more aggressive?

Or, alternatively, do I just choose to stay put and shut up, because your deliberate choice to keep B close to your heart is really none of my business?

Then say at one point you know about this little vendetta and decide to ask me nicely about why B is so unacceptably repulsive to me it turns my insides and makes me sick. Do I directly break into a string of offensive curses without letting you tell your side of the story? Do I cover my ears and chant nursery rhymes at the top of my lungs so I don't have to hear anything you've got to say? Do I, still, choose to be stubborn and act upon my unvalidated feelings? Or, being the wise, mature human being that I am, do I choose to stop, calm down, and listen?

Well, I know this is really hard to digest *rolls eyes* but when it all comes down to these two choices, then I guess the answer's a no-brainer. Obviously. Or is it, really?

There's still a lot of people out there up to this day who still don't get why tolerance is paramount in a global, modern society which continually endorses the acceptance of diversity - in other words, the very society we're living in right here 'n now. These are the people who tirelessly rallies against many aspects of equality and condemns the minority - whatever 'minority' means to them - wherever they go. And for what purpose, other than generating more hate in return for their actions? Hey, I might not be the brightest person in the universe, but seriously, folks, I don't get it.

I mean, really, if every single little problem could be solved by violently protesting against it on the streets and burning down buildings, then we wouldn't even be talking about the mere possibility of achieving world peace, now, would we?

So what if some people prefer something over something else? Everyone is entitled to express their feelings and have their own preferences - that is, and should be, a given, in any situation. We all like different things, don't we? If I like strawberry jam and you don't, does that automatically give you the right to barge into my life, deprive me of my precious jam, and force me to eat something else, like, say, orange marmalade? Aside from the fact that I really don't like marmalade - which may or may not be relevant to this analogy - I don't think that's the right thing to do. Don't you think so too?

Likewise, I should not feel obliged to meddle with any of your preferences. We are all different in our own simple ways; our differences make us who we are, as a collective. This should go uncontested.

Ah, ain't diversity beautiful? *winks*

All I'm saying is, of course we all have certain things with which we agree and don't agree. The question I wanna emphasize here is about whether or not we should go out of our way to confront those who don't share our beliefs. I know for a fact - at least for me personally - that the answer's a big NO. I think we should never - and I mean NEVER - be hostile towards others we share differences with, as long as those people don't attempt in any way to invade our personal space and harm us first. To each his / her own. I have no objections.

All of us should be smart enough by now to realize that nothing good will ever come out of hate. Especially on others who, underneath it all, really are just like us. We often see many parts of ourselves reflected in others' actions, especially the ones we resent. Remember that.

Practice tolerance. Do so with consistency and responsibility, and harmony will come. Just you watch.

I can't speak for all of us here, though.

Like I said, I'm not here to judge. Your call.

And to sum up, a powerful quote, from the Lady of All Things Different herself,

"It's always wrong to hate, but it's never wrong to love."

Ready to drop your two cents? ;)

:')

2010-08-26T10:35:00.002+10:00

This just made me cry.

Amazing voices, both of you. Amazing voices. You've come a long way.

And I believe this is just the beginning of an amazing musical journey you will find yourselves embarking on, very soon.

Congratulations. You have made us all proud. :')

P.S: The video's in Bahasa Indonesia, so please bear with me, my non-Indonesian readers.

...so when you see me crashing, and there's nowhere left to fall...

2010-08-09T13:28:00.022+10:00

Currently listening to: Lift Me Up - Christina Aguilera

.thatpalepearlyglow.

Sky High, Mt. Dandenong, May 2010

It was raining.

The school was empty, its corridors deserted and quiet. The students had either scurried off to extracurriculars or gone home. A sudden, almost melancholic burst of silence swept across the building as its occupants began to leave, ending yet another busy day.

Your arms were around me as we made our way up the stairs, our shoulders brushing, our heartbeats racing, our hurried footsteps echoing across the hallway. The sound of our cheeky laughs got caught in between drizzles, interlacing in one harmonic rhythm, as the gloomy grey sky thundered and poured.

Your sparkling brown eyes looked directly into mine in a sweet glance, and I blushed.

Amazed. Helpless. Desperately in love.

Are you cold? You asked, ever so gently, your soothing voice melodious and tender, like sweet music to my ears. I could feel the warmth of your breath down the nape of my neck, slow and steady with every little step you took. I shook my head and heaved out a sigh, almost breathless.

...No. I'm alright. You?

My heart skipped a beat when you moved closer, slowly drawing me into a tight embrace. Not when you're around, I'm not. Followed by a snicker.

A whiff of your favorite perfume lingered in the air, serenading my nostrils with that comforting, familiar scent. I could feel the soft material of your dark-colored sweater brushing across my back, sending shivers down my spine. I was hypnotized, lost in a trance.

I looked up, meeting your gaze, and frowned.

Where are we going? I'm getting tired...

You winked, playful as ever. Almost there. Don't worry.

Halfway to the fourth floor, right by the staircase rails, you suddenly stopped. You took my hand and pulled me close, letting me rest my head on your firm, broad shoulder, as in silence we stood and watched the unfolding wrath of the skies; the rustling of the winds, the flashing of its thunder, the drizzling beats of the pouring rain.

Beats rushing into the car and watching all this go down behind rain-splattered windows, doesn't it? You muttered, with the faintest hint of a smile curling up on your lips.

I grinned, starry-eyed. Yeah. It sure does. Though I'm sure your driver must be pissed.

You laughed. Nah. He can wait.

The tip of your fingers traced the outline of my nose, sending shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed with emotions. This was just surreal, too good to be true.

Amused, you heaved out a sigh.

All this just got better with you here by my side.

I would never have thought it remotely possible that you'd share my immense fascination with the rain. Really, out of - oh, I don't know- the countless little things of interest I could never have dreamed of sharing with you in this world, if the long hours you spent on the soccer field and the endless singing sessions I joyfully attended were any indication. We couldn't have been any more different even if we'd wanted to be. Guarding goalposts and singing melismatic runs didn't exactly go together, did they?

But I guess the universe really does have its ways in bringing two different people together, through unexpected surprises, accidental run-ins, or constant passing glances down the hall, in our case - exchanging awkward 'hi's, the silly shuffling of our feet, our late-night conversations and the skyrocketing phone-bills that entailed...

Funny how beautiful things can come barging in and surprise you, just when you think nothing good's gonna come your way. Maybe that's just how it is. I don't know.

And standing there, in the midst of the pouring rain, with the gentle warmth of your love holding me close, I felt strong, stubbornly invincible.

...Maybe we should head upstairs and see how your hamsters are doing.

Your soft whisper startled me, waking me up from the mystical daze I was in.

I turned, meeting your stare. Why? We just visited them during lunchtime this afternoon.

You chuckled lightly. I think I'm beginning to like them more than I'm allowed to.

Really? I laughed, touched by the childish sincerity in your voice. Weren't you the one who told me you hated furry animals? And don't even get me started on what you said about the Bio Lab being so smelly ever since I started keeping them there.

Well, I did say that...

I closed my eyes, as you drew closer and kissed my forehead ever so gently.

...But you won't believe just what spending a month with the world's most passionate hamster lover can do to your conscience.

You lifted my head, meeting my gaze. I could see that playful twinkle in your eyes; that charming passion, that vibrant glimmer of innocence, the tender traces of sweet, heartfelt honesty that made me fall so dangerously in love with you.

A strike of lightning grumbled in a distance, its luminescent lights flashing across the horizon. You turned, grinned, and reached out a hand to me.

Come on. They're waiting.

A smile escaped my lips, and I nodded.

The skies sat and watched as our steps began to intertwine, blending as one with the rhythmic beats of the rain. Up the stairs, off a right turn, down the hallway, into a door that was shut behind two pairs of brushing shoulders.

Yet another perfect afternoon.

You, and me, and the rain as our orchestra.

...i'll be your best friend and you'll be my valentine...

2010-07-18T12:01:00.000+10:00

REAL posts coming soon. Promise.

I'd say I had been busy, but... Well, let's just leave it at that, shall we?

*grins*

In the meantime, this makes me smile, every single freaking time.

(via bloodyhellkeepcalm.tumblr.com)

Don't you just loooooooove Joey Tribbiani? ;)

...she's got a halo 'round her finger, around you...

2010-06-15T23:24:00.004+10:00

Currently listening to: Alejandro - Lady Gaga

Behold, beautiful bloggers.

...Ta-da.

*bows and retreats behind the curtain*

This is exactly why I shouldn't be trusted with postcards, magazine cut-outs, spare Blu-Tac, and a pair of scissors on an uneventful, too-cold-to-get-out winter day.

Bright side? At least I was being productive.

A rare occurrence these days, I might add, My daily existence now resembles that of a hermit crab's - minus the pincers and the hideous shells. I basically just sit around doing next to nothing all day, aside from constant daydreaming and the occasional picking of the nose.

Life is good, you say? Nah. Not one bit. Can't complain, though.

But other than all that shebang, you can be rest assured that all is well in YoursTrulyville.

Don't you get worried, all three and a half of you out there.

So. Now. Your thoughts.

Hot, or naught?

On another note, Lady Gaga's "Alejandro" video is a brilliant masterpiece.

And pinstripe scarves turn me on.

Just sayin'.

...but i won't let melancholy play me for a fool...

2010-06-05T22:29:00.007+10:00

Currently listening to: Kindly Unspoken - Kate Voegele

.rewind.

Flinders St, Melbourne, May 2010

I want love.

I want peace.

I want unlimited personal freedom.

I want more time to settle things down and calm my emotional storm.

I want new shoes.

I want this season's check-patterned scarves.

I want a new wallet.

I want a fresh, empty wall to vandalize 'cuz I think my current wall art is slowly falling apart.

And while we're on the subject, I think I'm gonna need to get a new pack of Blu-Tac, stat. Preferably of the extra-strength variety this time.

I wanna be free of potentially-catastrophic financial troubles, like the one I'm facing right now.

I wanna be more careful in handling money.

I wanna start earning my own income as soon as possible so my parents will no longer have the authority to terrorize my spending.

I wanna get a job. Like a real job, with real responsibilities, a real office cubicle, real work-related stress, and real backstabbing colleagues, even.

I wanna stop being sarcastic and cynical about my surroundings.

I wanna be able to smile and laugh - sincerely - again.

I wanna believe that destiny isn't here to mess with my life and make me squirm in despair.

I wanna convince myself that there's light at the end of the tunnel, and that I shouldn't worry because everything has already been provided for me; I just need to make an effort to go and get what I want because everything has to be earned, not taken for granted.

I wanna fully understand what the title of this post really means - I gotta stop letting my unstable emotions take the wheel and make decisions for me.

I have to step up and be rational. Because I know that bitterness won't do me any good.

I have to get real. I have to move on. I have to lighten up.

I miss the old me. That dreamy little boy with glittering stars in his eyes. I miss my outrageous, impossible dreams. I miss my hearty laughs and optimistic, almost foolish dispositions. All the crazy nonsensical things my childish imagination used to believe in; superheroes, happy fairytale endings, friendships, rainbow bridges, pots of gold, and floating cotton candy clouds... I miss all of those things.

If only I had the power to turn back the hands of time, so I could rectify the mistakes I did and relive all the good memories of my childhood; I have to show myself, somehow, what it means to let go of my inhibitions and just soar, free as a bird...

Maybe I just want my old self back after all. As stupid and predictable as it may sound.

Although it is much easier said than done.

Funny how life has its ways to pin you down and screw you over.

Just when you thought everything was gonna be okay...

Dang. I really should snap out of it and find a job, before I drive myself up the wall.

...can somebody please just take me away?...

2010-05-28T11:53:00.002+10:00

...For the mind is willing but the body is weak.

And my innocence is lost somewhere between the lines.

...dear seventeen...

2010-05-18T22:10:00.008+10:00

...I wonder where you've disappeared to.

My history is stained, a pale shade of grey,

filled with might-have-beens and unfinished yesterdays.

My golden days of yore,

of optimism and vigor are long gone,

tarnished by the storms of life's cruel austerities.

You used to be all I ever knew.

My shield, my solace,

my sunshine after the rain,

the mask I wore,

the sword I held,

the shelter I cowered beneath when the going got tough...

It kills me to think I've somehow lost you now.

...Why do I feel you're a lifetime away?

"There is nothing so pitiful as a young cynic because he has gone from knowing nothing to believing nothing."

- Maya Angelou

...steady my breathing, silently screaming...

2010-05-12T23:03:00.031+10:00

Currently listening to: Edge of Desire - John Mayer

.highasthesky.

Southbank, Melbourne, December 2009

Here's a question for you:

Would you rather be given the chance to feel extremely happy - blissfully content - at some point in your life, only to have reality slap you straight on the face and knock you down, hard, when that euphoric moment is over;

Would you choose, instead, to have your emotions checked out and experience everything in moderation in order to avoid such eventual misery?

I know this is silly. It's like asking whether one would prefer to madly love apples and madly despise bananas OR just settle for a simple way out and like both indifferently. For we all know that - like everything else that makes up our sense of identity - we can't force someone to prefer something over another because everyone is innately unique. I for one would rather dig up a hole and hide if the remote possibility of shoving that disgusting horridness of an apple down my throat ever presents itself to me. Not in a million years, thank you very much. But that's completely besides the point.

There is some uneasy truth to this dilemma, I believe, like what my good friend Dea conveniently pointed out to a puzzled yours truly during our late-night telephone conversation a few days ago: sometimes we choose to grow cold towards all the things that define our happiness because we're far too afraid of getting hurt, of seeing that menacing layer of gloomy grey clouds looming at the edge of our glittering, sun-kissed horizon.

I think that - being the fragile, self-centered, indecisive human beings that we are - we tend to let our emotions get the best of us.

That is, when we deliberately choose to bare our souls and succumb to our most fundamental worldly desire, which - and don't hold my word for this - is the desire to be limitlessly happy, then there has to be a point somewhere along the journey, a turning point, at which this little guilt trip of ours - our personal, emotional big bang - will somehow snap back and start spiraling down, leading ultimately to sadness, and gloom, and disappointment.

After all, to quote a certain washed-up pop act, all good things come to an end, right?

'Cuz karma's a bitch like that, believe it or not.

Having said that, I also believe that the happier we are - the more we yearn so foolishly to taste the blissful joy of our happiness, the more we will asphyxiate ourselves, and the more painful our eventual fall from grace will be.

Just like the two sides of a coin; one simply can't exist without the other. For an extreme point in itself will not be an extreme point without an opposing, equally extreme point existing on the other side of the spectrum. Joy, and Grief. Delight, and Anguish. Eros, and Thanatos.

So why bother?

Why do we still waste our time trying so imprudently to make our way to the top, if we know that at the end of the day the things we fight for will expire, our steps will be weary, and our desperate attempt will be futile?

Maybe it's because deep down inside we'd like to believe that, at the end of the day, the joy we get is worth the downfall, somehow.

Well, I can tell you right now with confidence, ladies and gentlemen, that it bloody isn't.

I for one have long since decided to lock my thrills and trolls away and stay more or less indifferent. It's terribly exhausting to always wear my heart on my sleeve; I think it's gonna be much more convenient to just roll 'em down and button up.

And before you start patronizing me with your "but what about optimism?" crap, please be aware that I have seen too much - way too much for my own good, I should say - to be convinced otherwise.

I rest my case.

If fairytale dreams don't have happy endings then I'd rather not dream at all.

'Cuz I know if I still do, like a starry-eyed child oblivious to reality, the pain I'll get after figuring that out will hurt like a bitch.

So thanks, but no thanks.

...but there's a little truth in between the words we've spoken...

2010-04-28T16:15:00.014+10:00

Currently listening to: Till It Happens to You - Corrine Bailey Rae

.agloomyshadeofgrey.

Jakarta skyline - taken from Grand Indonesia, March 2010

Why do people live with secrets?

Why do we gravely fear that the people we love, the people we care about, will turn away and leave upon seeing the entirety of our existence?

Why are we so concerned about keeping some - if not all - parts of our lives hidden from others around us? Why do we rely so much on these little treasures to keep the scattered fragments of our identities together, to hold them firm?

Why do we, being so helplessly immersed in our own insecurities, often attempt to conceal the sweet bites and sour nips of our imperfections solely for the sake of making peace with our battered, less-than-adequate selves?

Sometimes we're far too preoccupied with our twisted perceptions, all the nitty-gritty, the seemingly-endless fine print lines, that we fail to grasp the numbing reality of our stance. We get lost scrutinizing the details in the fabric, entirely missing the bigger picture all the while. More often than not, we willingly trap ourselves inside our own misled assumptions, believing that begging for the approval of others is our exclusive path to social salvation.

Concealing certain parts of ourselves in the name of pleasing others; this concept is nothing short of foreign to me, being the acute people-pleaser that I am, as regrettable as that may sound.

But it's true. We worry about the safety of our deepest, darkest questions, for we know those little puzzling mysteries, those closet skeletons, are just as crucial to our identity make-up as everything else we have - or are still aspiring to - become. Our secrets make us whole. The secrets we keep tell us about who we really are just as much - if not more - as the parts of ourselves, those claims, those solid truths we disclose to the rest of the world.

Why is it that we, as a collective, value acceptance - and therefore conformity - so highly?

So much that most of us have to resort to camouflaging the most important aspects of our lives and making them secrets, only to gain a hollow, meaningless sliver of affirmation from our surroundings. I mean, what good does that do to us?

I am thoroughly against the idea that we should be embarrassed about all the details of our lives our society might not deem "acceptable" or "appropriate", whatever that means - those vital yet insignificant details like age, gender, family issues, personal troubles, history, preferences, sexual orientation, ethnicities, religious beliefs... The list goes on and on.

I do think that keeping secrets is necessary in maintaining the wholeness of our identities; after all we still need privacy to stay sane, right? What we do behind closed doors should not in any way be subjected to the judgment of others, and I believe this notion has to go uncontested. That is why having secrets is, in a way, healthy.

Our secrets, however, should not become our tickets to social acceptance; we are all good in our own little ways, and nobody should be given the right to take our worth away from us and make us believe otherwise.

Like, we don't have to lie about our sexuality to feel accepted. We don't have to abandon our religion, or change our music taste, or alter our dressing style, in order to fit in. We don't have to keep any part of our lives a secret to make us feel like we belong somewhere. If anything, it should be the exact opposite; we should be accepted for who we are, not for who we aren't. Remember that.

Maybe that's why Agent Vermouth in Detective Conan (I know, I'm a nerd, sue me) once said, "A secret makes a woman, woman". This quote hits a certain spot in me whenever I think about it. Pretty powerful stuff. Although technically it doesn't apply to me since I'm not a woman... Whatever.

I really think life would be far less complicated (albeit less entertaining too, perhaps, in a sick, twisted way) if nobody bothered to keep secrets anymore. I mean, transparency is all fine and good - our lives would certainly be easier without people backing away everytime a sensitive detail about their lives are discussed - but where is the fun in that?

I, for one, have enough skeletons in my closet to worry about, thank you very much.

So I guess I'll just stop here and move on.

...God I do hope I'm making sense here. Somehow.

It's too cold, and I can't even keep my legs warm let alone stay coherent.

Lates.

*shivers*

...and if my words don't come together...

2010-04-20T20:19:00.005+10:00

...I think I did.

Sorry for the extreme lack of posts as of late. I've been feeling pretty uninspired. Just ask my bandmates - or everyone else around me for that matter - if you don't believe me.

Will try to get back into the swing of things soon. Promise.

In the mean time, kindly bear with me.

*blows kisses*

And, oh, a very Happy Birthday to a certain fragment of the past. You know who you are.

I have never missed a single April 20 ever since we met, and I'm not about to start now. So here's to a long, healthy, joy-filled life. Have a great one. *raises glass*

Lates, loves.

.retrospect.

2010-04-12T23:34:00.003+10:00

...Sometimes I miss you too much I just don't know what to do with myself.

...your voice comes thrashing wildly through my quiet bed...

2010-04-06T23:43:00.011+10:00

Currently listening to: All We Ever Do is Say Goodbye - John Mayer

.suburbia.

12 Panorama St, April 2009

I wanna be like Peyton Sawyer.

I wanna be able to draw like she does. I wanna know what she thinks of life, and of the people around her, her perceived mortal enemies. I want her extensive music collection. I want her outrageous, edgy fashion sense. I want her obnoxious attitude. I want her freedom, her world, her personal realm of calm, undisturbed solitude.

I wanna know how it feels like to love something, or someone, with a passion, like her love for art, and music, and her mother, and Brooke, and Lucas. I wanna know how she can somehow manage to be so protective of her own feelings, how she closely guards her heart, choosing to observe others from a safe distance instead of jumping headfirst into her own pool of endless insecurities and letting herself go.

I wanna know how it's like to be convinced to believe, stubbornly, that at the end of the day, everyone in my life will always leave, no matter how hard I try to keep them close. And how it's just plain useless to open my heart and let them in, because just when I'm sure that they're gonna stay by my side forever, they'll always pack their bags and disappear, leaving me behind with a space lesser than what it used to be.

"People always leave", she says. I wanna believe that with all my heart.

Sometimes I wish I could be just a little tougher, a little more obstinate in my ways, so as to be able to grasp, and rightfully appreciate, this beautiful, intricate complexity.

Heaven knows I'm not ready just yet.

I wanna know where the source of her impeccable emotional strength lies. I want her independence. I want her reasons. I want her unchallenged certainty, her sadness, her personal philosophies. I wanna witness her happiness. I wanna share her sorrows. I wanna understand just how difficult it is to stay whole, unbroken, when everything in my life turn their backs on me and walk away.

I wanna know how it's like to be so delicate, so fragile, yet unbreakable at the same time.

I wanna have a Lucas Scott by my side; someone I can fully trust, someone who's always willing to share my burdens and help me believe, unconditionally.

I wanna have a Brooke Davis, too; a best friend who's equally complex, if not more. Someone who curses but never judges, who pushes but never suffocates. Someone close who always has my back no matter what, even in the darkest, most uncertain of times.

I think Peyton Sawyer is one hell of a lucky girl. She may think she's a loner, a hopeless drifter, yet she's surrounded by a bunch of good people, those who think the world of her. She just doesn't know that, and so she never begs for love, for pity, for a tiny trace of thorough, undivided attention. She locks her heart up and keeps the key to that vault in a safe place, buried deep within her many layers of optimism and pseudo-confidence.

How I dearly wish I could do the same with mine, somehow.

She has everything I don't. She knows everything I know nothing of.

She has the kind of unbeatable strength I can't even force myself to muster.

I wanna be like Peyton Sawyer. I wanna possess both the softness of a rabbit and the hardiness of an eagle, just like her.

I wanna guard my heart and keep it intact, unbroken, whole.

So when people leave - and they always do, I'll know how to cheer the fuck up and not linger on.

Help me find my way back, Peyton.

I've learned a lot from you, though you're not even real.

Maybe I'm delusional after all.
Or maybe I've just been watching One Tree Hill a little too much.

Whatever.

*Artwork courtesy of One Tree Hill and The CW. No copyright infringement intended.

"At this moment there are 6,470,818,671 people in the world. Some are running scared. Some are coming home. Some tell lies to make it through the day. Others are just now facing the truth. Some are evil men at war with good and some are good struggling with evil. Six billion people in the world - six billion souls. And sometimes all you need is one."
- Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer, One Tree Hill

...how many times do i have to dream i could be there?...

2010-03-31T23:57:00.003+11:00

.goodbye.

SQ218, July 2009

So this is how freedom feels like.

No expectations, no regrets.

Nothing to keep me from going, from letting loose.

I used to convince myself that I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. That conforming to whatever the others believed in was my only key to universal acceptance. I used to turn a blind eye to subjective opinions and stay firm in acknowledging that being perpetually nice was the norm, and that passing pointed judgments about others could be rightfully justified for everyone but me simply because I wasn't good enough to be allowed otherwise.

How foolish I was to believe that my saving grace rested on the warm comforts of my socials. This is far, too far from the truth. My eyes were blinded, my ears tight shut; I was oblivious to the central essence of it all because my soul was lonely and I ever wanted was company.

I have realized that everything was but a giant fucking mistake.

Now the heavy, rusting chains around my feet, made of unending demands and bottled-up rage, can no longer drag me down. My soul has been liberated. And damn, this feels good.

No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more compromising, no more endless dispositions.

It's time for me to soar. It's time for my dreams to bloom, like the pretty flowers of spring.

I have let myself fly, away, higher than the sky.

And once I've crossed over, past that mystical, colorful arc with its glittering pots of gold, I promise will never look back.

So don't miss me.

'Cuz I sure as hell won't waste my time trying to miss you.

...Ah.

So this is how freedom feels like.

...L-O-V-E's just another word i never learned to pronounce...

2010-03-23T23:20:00.010+11:00

Currently listening to: Starstrukk - 3OH!3 ft. Katy Perry

.doyouseewhatisee?.

Personal Wall Art, Feb 2010

So much for 21st-century virtual narcissism.

*grins*

For future reference, in case there ever comes a glorious day when yours truly decides to bring out his inner Severus Snape and declare war on all things bright and beautiful - which, depending on yet-to-be-determined circumstances may or may not happen - kindly take note that the following things, when prescribed at precisely the right amount, can take my sorrows away and make me happy as a clam:

* Cold early mornings, just when the fog rolls in sweetly, white and fluffy like cotton candy;

* Stepping on half-frozen grass during balmy winter days, taking in that captivating smell of withered leaves, humid soil, and traces of dew while doing so;

* Fancy wall calendars and/or Post-it notes;

* Unique, flaming, flamboyant stationery items *wink wink*;

* Two words: Penguin Classics;

* Boarding Metro trains that are empty and clean. I find smelly, alcohol-bottle-littered trains downright appalling;

* Spur-of-the-moment midnight trips with the usuals;

* Newspaper comic strips - Calvin & Hobbes and good ol' Dilbert cracks me up every time;

* Rainy days. Rainy nights. Maybe just rain in general, being the chronic hopeless romantic that I am;

* Late night MSN sessions with geographically-dispersed friends;

* Mr. Buble, Ms. Spears, and the massively talented Corr family;

* Mr. Mraz's witty, well-versed song lyrics *nudges Unee*;

* My uber-handsome redcap oranda, Oscar *nudges Edina*;

* Trips to quiet beaches in summer - with a pair of decent sunnies, beach shorts, sandwiches, a frisbee, and a good book;

* Blogwalking - as well as discovering good blogs and making new blog buddies along the way, of course *grins*;

* Midnight trips to Maccas with the neighbors and/or housemates;

* Collecting boarding passes;

* Singapore Airlines flights & their flawless KrisWorld;

* Clean airline seats;

* Hitting all the right notes and making all the right ornaments when singing;

* Making music and letting my creative juices flow liberally with The Nu-Bees;

* Casual conversations with random strangers;

* Pretty sunsets;

* Whipping up intricate recipes and actually making something out of them;

* Good coffee - even better when brewed by good-looking baristas *wink wink*;

* Going out for supper, all bundled up and shivering, on long winter nights;

* Cheesy pop songs from the likes of Ke$ha, Katy Perry, and co.;

* Putting my entire iTunes library on shuffle and actually getting all the good songs back-to-back on one go;

* Stalking people on Facebook - in a thoroughly non-creepy manner, I might add;

* Tweeting - my newfound guilty pleasure, hence the restless thumbs;

And lastly, putting up this worthless piece of crap on my blog just because I can. *winks*
And because my personal light-bulb moments of inspiration have become as painfully rare as the Giant Panda, regrettably.

Trust me, if I could breed my inner thoughts in a captive environment and put them up on pristinely-decorated exhibits at will, I would.
*slaps self*

So I guess that's about it.
I'm still alive and breathing, at least. My world now consists of late nights, lazy afternoons, countless rejections, and an increasingly limited space of existence I can't get out of.

As depressing as it sounds, it somehow feels like I have nothing to live for these days. Other than my music, and the fact that my lungs are still fully capable of breathing in my daily share of oxygen to sustain me, I honestly don't know what else I should be thankful for.

But I think this deserves its own post, so I'll stop.

Hope you're having a lovely week.
*waves*

...since our BIG audition date is, like, tomorrow...

2010-03-13T11:24:00.001+11:00

photo courtesy of Jimmy Halim & Mega Halim

...Please kindly cross your fingers and wish us luck.

We promise we won't disappoint. :)

P.S: I'll have a real post soon. Don't kick me.

...i'm only human and that's my saving grace...

2010-03-02T14:24:00.000+11:00

Currently listening to: Halo - Bethany Joy Galeotti

.soar.

GA717, MEL-CGK, February 2010

Do you remember the last time you felt free, wild, unrestrained, like a bright-eyed child excited to see the world?

You know, that sudden burst of excitement that sweeps over you without warning, ever so abruptly, stopping you in your tracks, numbing your senses. The profound realization that you're in for one hell of a ride, and that you should expect nothing but surprises and more surprises along the way. You know you're scared as hell, but you're far too eager to keep going that chickening out is completely irrelevant. All you wanna do is get out there and move forward, because you're young and free - your dreams fresh and brave, and all the secrets of world is at your feet, waiting to be discovered, witnessed through a pair of sparkling innocent eyes.

I used to know how that felt like, a long time ago.

During a time when dressing up meant putting on my uniform. When my sole life-defining mission was to get top marks in class. When the idea of having a great time strictly involved food parties at some fast-food joint, other kids singing "Happy Birthday" at the top of their - or should I say our - tiny lungs, and a cake - somehow there was always a cake. When the words "I like you" still meant "Let's be friends!" and not "Let's bunk together and do kinky things we'll probably regret tomorrow morning". And when the only possible cause for my personal end-of-days scenario was a big fat red FAIL scribbled across my report card.

The seemingly-endless race for academic excellence, one level after another, was all I ever knew; I had no idea who I wanted to be in the future, nor did I even care. The remote possibility of having to grow up and leave this jungle of limitless fun was ridiculous to the point of being completely unthinkable. I thought there was absolutely no need for me to grow up if this version of the world could linger forever. Little did I know that this childish notion hadn't even the slightest chance to prevail in real life.

My inner social circle was made up of myself and two other amazing kids. One was a talented albeit mischievous basketball-jock-to-be whom I had been friends with ever since he was born, the other a tomboy, curly-haired, guitar-strumming girl with a smile as bright as the afternoon sun. My weekdays with them consisted of comparing lunch boxes and copying each other's homeworks, my weekends of PlayStation matches, pulling pranks on the jock-to-be's twin brothers, and catching tadpoles at a nearby drainage channel. Then we grew a little older, and our definition of weekend fun grew up along with us; the PlayStation games and tadpole-hunting soon got old, so we turned to street basketball and evening guitar sessions instead.

Nothing else mattered to us back then. Life was good as long as we had each other. Though the sun might go down and yet another week would lurk round the corner, eager to bring us down, we knew we would still be here next week, and the week after, and the week after that, passing our ball and playing our songs and singing our tunes like there was no tomorrow.

Just now I browsed through our collection of old photos, and it was then that I finally realized just how genuinely happy we were, with our cheeky grins, our sweaty foreheads, and our mud-stained T-shirts, all blurring into one.

When you're a kid, you don't know what lies ahead of you. And neither should you, for innocence is precious only because it cannot be preserved. There's no turning back once you start thinking things over and stop being indifferent towards the rest of your life. When you let go of the blissful ignorance of youth, you let that happy kid in you go along with it. And trust me, you're gonna spend your days after that desperately wanting to get it back, but you can't.

Because reality bites you, HARD, until you bleed with regret.

The memory of having that kind of exhilarant, mind-blowing feeling flashes by but doesn't stay with me now. The innocence is long gone, with constant suspicion and endless doubt now taking its place. And I'm left feeling... disconnected.

I had a great childhood, that I can't deny.

These photos serve as a vivid reminder of that.

I just wished those sparkling pair of innocent eyes that once framed my universe could somehow come back and help me see things clearly, once again.

Remind me how it feels like to be young, and wild, and free.

'Cuz right now, I'm finding it hard to remember.

...i'd follow you to the moon in the sky above...

2010-02-20T17:16:00.010+11:00

Currently listening to: So Amazing - Stevie Wonder & Beyonce

.thetown.

Bunderan HI, Jalan Thamrin, Jakarta, Feb 2010

I can't even begin to tell you how immensely happy I am everytime I'm comfortably perched, safe and sound, inside the warm confines of my room, with a cup of steaming hot coffee by my side and classic The Corrs tracks playing softly on my iTunes. The rain is pouring heavily right outside my window as we speak, framing everything with its gloomy shade of grey. The bed is warm, the house is quiet, and the streets are empty. Lovely.

This is my idea of a personal heaven.

I remember feeling antsy, if not downright insecure, during my seven-hour flight from dear ol' Melbourne, worried I wouldn't be able to adjust, worried I wouldn't fit right back in once I touched down and got rightfully slapped with a hearty dose of reality. I guess I just had my own set of assumptions that hindered me from letting loose; I wasn't sure if everything would be okay, if for some reason things wouldn't feel the same way, somehow, because they have changed during my absence. My excitement was shrouded by little pangs of senseless doubt.

I think it had more to do with the fact that I wasn't sure if I could even remember that angry, misunderstood, overcompensating drama king of a kid who used to live here before fate - if such a concept even existed - decided to turn things over and send yours truly to fend for himself in the land of kangaroos, foul-tasting breakfast spread, and - regrettably - premature skin cancer. I could barely remember the chaos that used to be my life back then; how I so desperately tried, and screwed up, and failed miserably, and was then forced to repeat the vicious cycle all over again, right under the scrutiny of others around me.

I was a mess. A walking, breathing, screaming mess.

Maybe that was why I grew weary of my own less-than-shiny personal records and chickened out, unwilling to look back, to remember, to reminisce at first.

Now that I think about it, I had no idea what got into me.

Fast forward a couple of days, or fourteen, and now here I am. Comfortably settling in, albeit reluctant to let go, stubbornly, still. I've had my share of good days, and some awfully bad days too. I'd visited many of the memorable places I grew up in. I'd met some of the amazing people I shared my younger years with. It feels odd, almost sentimental, to realize that this cluttered mess of a metropolis holds a significant portion of my most treasured memories; the endless mall-trips, the compulsory talks-over-coffee sessions, the precious moments, and all the long traffic hours spent in between. Admittedly, the whole experience is sobering in its own way.

If there's one thing that I find repulsive about Jakarta, though, it's the fact that, regrettably, freedom is an absolute luxury around here. The paternal is neurotic and perpetually tense, while the maternal is sharp-tongued and excessively nosy, convinced that prodding her nose into other people's personal matters is a fully-justified right. I have become so guarded lately - overly cautious, even - but my all-smiling facade is wearing thin. I have now resorted to finding refuge in caffeine highs and fleeting moments of serotonin-induced emotional relief - namely, friends.

But I guess I really should stop complaining. Like always.

The last five days in particular had been bliss, absolutely divine, with the solid presence of a certain bespectacled hunkydory in a purple top, whose killer smiles and sappy sweetness have painted my days with multiple shades of happiness. I had never been happier, ever. It almost felt like I was living in a dream. And now that the clock has turned and the week is up, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself. I'm left with this giant gaping hole of nothingness.

In the pleasure of throwing in a vague, philosophically-inclined statement in between incoherent paragraphs, let me be less than modest here by saying that dreams only feel good because they cease to exist when we wake up.

More often than not - to quote a certain guitar-strumming Mayer bloke - when we dream, waking up is the hardest part, always so. It sure as hell is, especially when the dream we're dreaming is a giant build-up of all the things we're not allowed, or privileged enough, to call our own.

And what other purpose do our dreams serve if not to indulge our tired little souls with inane thoughts of what should and could have been?

I'm awake now. And the thought of knowing that cuts me open like a knife.

...Two full weeks to go.

The days are long. The clock's a-tickin'.

My last glimmer of hope is slowly losing streak.

And I hate that plane for taking you away.

Just when I was just beginning to feel again.

*waves*

...pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere...

2010-02-09T20:16:00.013+11:00

Currently listening to: Vanilla Twilight - Owl City

.wheredoallthelonelypeoplego?.

Main Street, Sovereign Hill, Ballarat, Dec 2009

It has been slightly more than three days now since my arrival back in town.

The food is good, the sun's still scorching hot, and the town has received a fair share of rainy days during these past couple of days. I love it when it rains in the morning; there is nothing more serene than having the calming, fragrant scent of rain-washed grass caressing my nostrils ever so gently when I wake up.

The traffic is crazy in this town; motorcycles always get in your way when you drive, that's just how it is up here. I can't go anywhere without some form of personal transportation, and I always have to go through a long-ass argument with Dad whenever I need to use the car. The city council builds new highways and roads every other day, creating even worse traffic disruptions all around town. Everything is dead cheap but my allowance is limited, since both my credit and debit cards are no longer active, and my personal bank account was closed a long time ago. Freedom is a luxury; everything around me is too organized, too bland, too predictable.

Apparently here I'm always either too fat or too skinny.

My skin is always too light, or too dark.

My face is always too round, my cheeks too chubby, my complexion too pimply.

My hair is always too brown, or too short, or just plain ugly.

My clothes never look presentable. My shoes are not sleek and hip. I don't have my perfume collection with me and I feel like I constantly smell like hell since my body always chooses to perspire liberally whenever I'm here. People stare at me when I go out with a tote bag dangling on my right shoulder and my favorite rainbow-colored wristbands strapped around my right hand. I can never wear slip-on shoes along with a pair of check-patterned shorts without Mom telling me how ridiculous I look.

Everything has to be "normal", everything has to look "common", and "safe", and "regular", nothing out of the ordinary.

Everything has to look just like how everything else looks.

Apparently, the society thinks I'm never gonna be able to keep up with the ups and downs of its fast-paced lifestyle. That I will never be good enough to jump in, never worthy enough to be allowed a space inside its superficial, beauty-worshiping bandwagon.

So I don't look like one of those good-looking, big-eyed, olive-skinned, speech-impaired halfies whose only specialty is parading around looking impossibly pristine, one after another, overcrowding my TV screen all day long. I don't go around town attending every single high society gathering there is, aiming to "accidentally" spill my champagne into the shirt and/or dress of any given celebrity in the hopes of guaranteeing a spot in one of those countless morning gossip shows. I'm not the offspring of some rich businessman who spends his day dumbing out, living a glamorous lifestyle straight out of a Gossip Girl episode. I don't have a sports car, I don't live in a three-storey, multi-hectare house. I'm as ordinary as you can possibly get, probably with the addition of a top-quality koi fish or two in tow.

And that is exactly why I don't fit in.

Just because I don't give a rat's ass about my weight, or my disastrous fashion sense, or the well-being of my ever-darkening skin. Just because I don't speak your language nearly as much as you would ideally like me to. Just because I don't make such a big fuss about relationships and marriage. Just because I'm not obsessively fixated on finding a soulmate to the point of being desperate and pathetic like everybody else. Just because I don't care about what's been happening around here when I was gone; all the drama, the backstabbing, the endless bouts of paranoia. Just because I choose to not judge people by how they look, what kind of shoes they wear, what bags they carry, or how many lush cars they own. Just because I don't even make an effort to try to conform to the standards you have set and tick your boxes. Do all these things give you the right to judge me back?

By "you", I don't mean you. Or you. Or you. I just mean people in general. Or not.

Your call.

I guess I'm just gonna have to shut up and deal with it.

I want this holiday to be a happy, enjoyable one. I don't need all this.

How I wish all the good food I've been scoffing down my throat could somehow make up for all the negative energy I've been taking in. But there will eventually be a time when ignorance alone won't be enough. And I'm not sure if I'm ready.

*sighs*

Let's see.

...and why do we miss what we never had?...

2010-02-02T22:04:00.004+11:00

Currently listening to: Lost Then Found - Leona Lewis ft. OneRepublic

.majesty.

Panorama St, Clayton, February 2010

Around this time next week, I will be home.

For thirty days, I'm gonna have to trade the comfort of living in a quiet southeastern suburb for a temporary perch in a not-as-quiet inner suburban town at the outskirts of Jakarta; the dry and scorching hot for the humid and rainy; the traffic poles and flickering headlights of Princes Highway for busy, crooked inner-city streets full of beggars and buskers; the steady Broadband connection I have here for a less-than-awesome cable Internet subscription... The list goes on and on.

In less than one week, I will be inhaling the putrid, pollution-ridden Jakarta air. Soon I'll find myself getting caught up in the middle of the city's chaotic, seemingly endless rush-hour traffic jams. I'll stuff myself with so much good food that by the end of the trip, my long-time hatred towards those vile, judgmental weight scales can be further justified. I'll get myself reacquainted with Starbucks Puri's omnipresent comfy couches, rightfully so. I'll be able to get ridiculously-cheap movie tickets on weekdays. I'll gratefully take my time in catching up with old friends. I'll finally be able to shop without having to feel excessively guilty.

Heck, even my dormant seventeen-year-old rebel may or may not choose to resurrect himself and thus drive my twenty-one-year-old psyche back into the foul-smelling realm of thinking that authority figures are lame and life without cars is as troublesome and painfully uninteresting as watching Heidi Montag disfigure herself on camera.

Don't judge me. I was a bitter kid.

*smiles at the thought*

It always feels sad, and somehow sentimental, you know, talking about home.

The thought of going home feels eerily distant, unknowable, foreign. For the whole notion of having a 'home' still escapes my senses after all this time.

What does 'home' actually mean to this tired, wretched soul?

Yes, I have a roof above me, sheltering me from the sun and the rain. I have a bed, a half-decent wall art I continually show off to a nonexistent set of admirers, some shelves stacked with books, a pet fish housed in a far-too-small tank, and probably way too many clothes. This dwelling space has its own address, and my partial "ownership" of this property is temporarily bound by a lawful contract. This is where I sleep, and rest, and eat, and do silly stuff when noone is around.

Is this my home?

Well, yes, and no.

I have been away from my forbearing nest for so long, I'm now starting to view my life as always being in transit, not knowing where I could reside or when I should step up everytime this intriguing journey spins, or takes a turn. The many fragments of my life are sprawled, stretched thin across the globe. It takes far too much effort just to keep them all together, strewn across but not assembled, complete yet never whole. Within all the chaos I have somehow found myself a comfortable shed of hope, yet everything else seems cold and blurred.

It's like stepping into uncharted waters; you never know just when the waves will come and take you in. There must be a place to which you can always run and hide, if only to shield yourself from the engulfing chill the splashes bring with them. A place full of warmth, and love, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies whenever the need for comfort food comes around.

As sad as it is, I don't think I have such a place.

My comfortable bubble of a universe is scarily turning into one giant forest of uncertainty, crippled with fear and senseless paranoia. Gone are my innocent days of youth, when the world was an endless playground of sorts, the sun was but a big round ball of cheerful positivity and every rainbow arch housed a gleaming pot of gold at the edge of the horizon.

Reality is a bitch; it sucks the happiness out of you mercilessly, leaving nothing behind. It wakes you up and shoves its overwhelming presence down your throat, suffocating you.

When life calls, all I wanna do is escape. Hide. Run away from the absurdity of it all and just get back home, where the entire repertoire of my disentangled symphony lies.

Yet it becomes too hard when I can't even figure out which direction I should be heading to.

*sighs*

For now, let me pack up my bags and leave for that giant metropolis I once called my home. Both in a literal and figurative sense. This trip is like a final ode to my blissful days of youth, and the sorrowful prologue to the start of my mundane, adult existence. The final curtain call, one last chance to feel sparkly-eyed like a child, oblivious to the fact that once the game is over, my dreams will get pushed aside and reality will kick in.

After all, to quote a famous saying, I believe that home is truly where the heart is.

And since this solitary longing, this burning fervor in my heart is not yet willing to surrender and rest, I guess I'm just gonna move on, and keep looking.

For now.

"Why do we say things we can’t take back?

Why do we miss what we never had?
Both of us fell to the ground,

The love was so lost, it couldn’t be found..."

...'cause when he's looking she falls apart...

2010-01-28T23:46:00.005+11:00

Currently listening to: Dance in the Dark - Lady Gaga

.citysidewalks.

LaTrobe St, Melbourne, May 2008

Photo courtesy of David Chandra

Best friends don't judge.

No. They never do.

They are honest. Blatantly so. And blunt. Even harsh, at times, too.

When others leave, they stay. When others close their ears, they listen. When others defend and reject, they spread their hands and welcome you back.

Best friends support you like strong legs to a table. Best friends hold you firm like a tree to its branches. They catch you when you fall, they don't throw you down. They share your joy, not take it away. They help you release your pain, they won't let it stay.

They may be partial, they may be clueless, they may not even understand what the bloody hell you are going through. Not that you, or anybody else for that matter, should expect them to. That would be asking too much.

But despite all your shortcomings, and bitterness, and countless bouts of absolute negativity, they're still there for you. They linger, against all odds. They still care. And they keep nothing to themselves. Not even the most painful, the most heartless of truths.

They may be wrong. They may be right.

But they should never judge you for who you are, or what you are not, and what you have and have not done in your life.

Best friends don't judge.

Heck. I know I don't.

So, tell me now.

What exactly are you...?

:)

2010-01-19T00:01:00.002+11:00

This post is dedicated to my dearest, most amazing friends.

These young, vibrant souls who, over the years, have somehow managed to get through all the emotional chaos, the countless nagging, the constant exaggeration, and the immature, borderline-psychotic taunts and demands of this good-for-nothing, self-centered son of a bitch. Somehow.

Words can't explain just how immensely grateful I am to have been considered a part of your lives all these years.

You guys have truly made my 21st Birthday even more special. More than you'll ever know.

Here's to you. And to our lasting friendships.

And of course, following the age-old tradition, to a great and rewarding year ahead!

Hopefully.

"Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time."

- Jean Paul Richter

"From our birthday, until we die

Is but the winking of an eye."

- William Butler Yeats

The old believe in anything; the middle-aged suspect everything; the young question everything."

- Oscar Wilde

...Thank you! :)

...how did i get here? what did i do?...

2010-01-11T15:47:00.020+11:00

Currently listening to: Pretend - Secondhand Serenade

.underneaththegraysky.

Captain Cook Cruise, Sydney Harbour, Dec 2009

I sometimes wonder how things would've turned out to be like if the Universe had decided to screw with the sunny tropics and conveniently assigned yours truly to be born somewhere along the chilly coasts of England.

I for one would've loved the sexy British accent in my speech. And the perpetual cold. And of course, the highly-viable chance of getting ash blonde hair instead of black. Even if I had turned out to be Asian in this hypothetical state of existence - maybe good ol' Mother Nature had thought I would've still been better off with slanty eyes and slightly darker skin - I would've still gotten two out of three! And that's fine by me. *snickers*

Being British would've been AWESOME, with caps. I would've been more poised and mannered in my gestures. I could've made a habit out of jogging around Hyde Park every morning. I could've developed more fondness towards scones. I could've grown addicted to tea, not coffee. I could've auditioned for the role of one of Draco Malfoy's good-for-nothing cronies in the Harry Potter movies just for the thrill of doing so. I could've even spent all my spare time stalking the Royals!

And don't even get me started on the weather. Or the bloody strong British Pound. Or on how irresistible and excessively good looking Europeans are in general, blue eyes and all. *sighs*

Life would've been all rainbows and butterflies then, albeit slightly psychotic. I could've been a terrific British bloke, hey! :)

Damn, does that sound good or what? I would be willing to kill - oh yes I would, just you watch - to be able to enjoy every second of this parallel existence.

Well, except that it doesn't actually exist so I can't exactly do anything about it now, can I?

...Yeah. I know.

This is what blogging in the heat looks like, folks.

Maybe this isnt' such a good idea after all.

*fans self furiously*

Speaking of heat, it's freaking FORTY THREE DEGREES right now, and if the constant sweating and the occasional throb at the back of the head are any indication, I think it's safe to say that my system is NOT handling this blistering hot weather very well. No, not too well indeed.

Fortunately, this dazzling epitome of total awesomeness right here *wink wink* remembered to make a quick run to the grocery store yesterday in search of the world's best thirst-quencher, namely Lipton's Lemon Ice Tea, amongst other things. You know, just in case the heat gets too unbearable and I'm forced to get holed up inside the cool confines of my air-conditioned crib so as to avoid getting fried. *grins*

One big fat bottle now sits quietly inside my fridge, waiting to be ruthlessly ravished. Wrong choice. Should've gotten more. Battling the heat is proving to be quite a feat and I need to be better-armed.

I know that probably more than half of Melbourne's population has already flocked to the nearest beach in response to the heat and is now merrily working on destroying their measly skin cells with the help of the sun and a splatter or two of their trusted SPF-laden tanning lotion of choice. I for one is still yet to discover the fun in rolling around in the sand getting baked while wearing nothing except a pair of extra-strength sunnies and the occasional barely-there thong. So, no, I'll stay well out of the sun's glare for now, thank you very much.

Yeah. As if the awkward tan lines I have on my arms aren't hideous enough already. Besides, if my skin gets any darker then it already is now, chances are even my own family members will start having doubts about the authenticity of my Chinese heritage next time they cross paths with me.

*turns up aircon even higher*

Summer, I hereby welcome you.

Please be nice and don't burn any more trees this year. We've had enough of those catastrophic bushfires last time you came around. :(

Ah well. I better get back to sucking on ice cubes and whatnot. There's only so much heat one can handle at a time.

'Till next time, peeps.

P.S: If what I've been reading is correct, I think Britain's got a bit of a weather issue right now as well. While people in Australia are getting too much sun and therefore slowly heading to skin cancer paradise, all the lucky Brits up there are buried waist-deep in snow as we speak. Talk about irony. We could use some snow down here too, Mother Nature! *sighs*

...although it's been said, many times, many ways...

2009-12-25T22:59:00.001+11:00

.feliznavidad.

Collins Street City Square, Melbourne, December 17, 2009

...Merry Christmas, to you. :)

...hang a shining star upon the highest bow...

2009-12-14T23:25:00.005+11:00

For the sake of updating the nonexistent: my super-awesome parents are coming down for Christmas and, of course, my graduation ceremony.

Being the highly-experienced urban travelers that they are, I'm fully aware that they are used to spending Christmas in cold, snow-covered, more-festive places. Think the Swiss Alps, or Western Europe, or the American East Coast. But this visit will mark their very first take on spending Christmas below the Equator.

I'm genuinely curious to see what Mr. and Mrs. Oey will make out of a sunny, outdoorsy, summer-y Christmas down under. *grins*

Other than the usual plan of exploring Melbourne to its very core, we also have Brisbane (otherwise known to the locals as Brisvegas), the always-compulsory Gold Coast, Tangalooma Resort, and Sydney under our messy traveling belts. Ten days of sunshine, hopefully *crosses fingers*, and ten days of total family awesomeness.

I promise I will make time to post another update before Christmas.
In the mean time, I will retreat under my snuggly blankets and bid you adieu. My parents will arrive at Tullamarine first thing in the morning tomorrow, and I have to be there by around 11am to greet them. *winks*

Have a nice start to your Christmas holidays, guys!
Put your best tank-tops on. Wear your most awesome sunnies. And cover yourselves up with sunblock because the UV rays are nasty! Then have a cold beer. Or two. Or three. Or as many as you want, actually, but please try not to get too drunk! Everything is more fun when your head's actually there and not all fuzzy. :)

So, yes, that's about it for now.
Merry Christmas, everybody. :)

xoxo

...how many promises and fake apologies?...

2009-12-03T19:55:00.008+11:00

Currently listening to: Hear No, See No, Speak No - Ricki-Lee Coulter

.yousayi'mcrazy.
The Circus Starring: Britney Spears, 1st Melbourne Show
Rod Laver Arena, Nov 11, 2009

I find it really heartwarming when my favorite barista *wink wink* - having already been on a first-name basis with yours truly - yells out my name and lightens up whenever I merrily hop my way to that familiar chocolate-brown counter, with my best cheeky grin plastered on my face and my worn-out loyalty card at the ready.

Bonus points for already hitting the cash register and cheerfully calling out the exact price of my favorite drink before I stop prancing and finally arrive.
Bullseye. *grins*

Ah, the things you find when you get out of the house.
Turns out my seemingly foolish decision to brave the crazy winds and drag my lazy ass all the way to this cozy spot is not so stupid after all now that I think about it.

So here I am, conveniently perched on a chair next to the giant glass windows overlooking Chadstone's new shopping precinct, absently typing away. I have my regular-sized skinny Irish nut creme with me, brewed to perfection by the coffee-making prodigy in question *cough cough*. The sun's still up, the cafe's rather quiet given it's Thursday night, and Christmas songs are playing softly on the PA.

Can you say happiness? :)

Damn. It surely feels good to have nothing to do.
No due dates, no morning classes, no irrational deadlines to look out for (although the latter is subject to change in a few days' time) whatsoever. Lately my existence revolves around making use of my excess spare time and dealing with irrational thoughts, more or less. Think late-night phonecalls, endless Youtube sessions, and multiple cups of jasmine tea. I even took the initiative to clean up my room again!

*bows to imaginary clapping sounds*

Ironically, though, I have also been missing a LOT of gym sessions, hence my current wimp-like performance at the gym, in a non-sexy kind of way of course. Let's just say the treadmill hasn't been too kind on Mr. Couch Potato right here lately. I don't know where all the motivation has disappeared to; maybe I'm just being plain lazy, like always. I promise this will change.

I have since resorted to watching a lot of online videos everytime pangs of boredom strikes. I know things are getting bad now that I'm starting to get all impatient and borderline obsessive about communitychannel's video announcements on Twitter, but I can't help it. To spice things up a little, as of now I also have discovered a newfound attraction towards Singaporean online shows on clicknetwork.tv. "Chick VS Dick" never fails to amuse me, and I think Rosalyn Lee a.k.a Rozz is Singapore's hottest TV personality right now!

*sighs*

See?
Proof positive I should seriously start looking for something better to do before I drive myself up the wall.

But first things first. Semester 2 results will be out tonight, and I'm crossing my fingers big time. If I pass all four units, I'll be able graduate at the end of this year. December 17, to be exact, about two weeks away from now. If not... Well, we'll worry about that later. *shivers at the thought*

As much as I hate the idea of having to man up and face the real world now that my endless years of education is finally coming to an end, I actually think that graduating will still be fun and liberating nonetheless. And I sure as hell do hope I'll end this with a BANG. I wanna do me - and my parents, too - proud.

We'll talk more about this later. Let me get queasy and fidget with my hands first. A couple of hours to go, now. Won't be long.
*tugs at hair*

My coffee's getting cold. And is that the rain I hear rattling softly on the ceilings?
Alright. I better sign off now. Will let you guys know once the results are published.

Oh, Christmas is almost here, by the way. *winks*

Lates!

UPDATE:

I PASSED ALL FOUR UNITS!!! :)
I'm officially a Bachelor of Commerce graduate! Well, minus the hat and the funny-looking robe, though. That one's for December 17. *winks*

.retrospect.

2009-12-02T00:08:00.004+11:00

kuhirup manis aroma udara kota ini,
satu pagi,
tak pernah sepi

dalam riuh bisingnya sang metropolis awali hari,
memulai lagi,
kuhilanglenyap tenggelam dalam bergulungguruh arusnya

kudengar jeritmu di setiap bunyi klakson,
kerlipmu di tiap kedip lampu lalu lintas,
lagumu seiring petikan gitar sang pemusik jalanan

kurasa haru dalam keruhkelabunya langitmu,
deras rinai hujanmu,
juga mendungnya cakrawala,
sumpekruwet jalanjalan raya yang ribut meraung di luar sana

setiap detik kupuja hadirmu,
setiap detakmu selaras deru jantungku,

dan bersama secangkir kopi hangat,
sebatang pensil,
selembar kertas lusuh,
dan setahun penuh seruan rindu,

kunafaskan adamu,

jakartaku.

-- Dunkin Donuts Mal Ciputra Jakarta, 8 Januari 2009

...now are you sure you want a piece of me?..

2009-11-09T01:05:00.034+11:00

Currently listening to: Piece of Me - Britney Spears

THIS pisses me off.
Oh, and THIS one too.

I mean, like, seriously.
Lay off the obsession and, please, cut her some slack.

Honestly, though, up until this point I was completely unaware of these following facts:

1) that every entertainment news journalist out there in Australia is a prolific singer, an experienced performer, and an immensely popular artist who has sold millions of records all around the world - and this totally gives them the right to write disrespectful stuff about, oh, like only one of the world's best-selling artists;

2) that absofuckinglutely no other pop star in the world - other than our beloved Britney Spears, of course - has ever mimed to his or her own song in concerts and live shows before. No, not even Ashlee Simpson did it; and

3) that apparently "fans" of any music artist in the world are freely allowed to refund their concert tickets if they feel that their favorite artists are letting them down by not singing the songs they want to hear or not performing stuff they want to see.

I mean, wow.
I must be living under a rock or something all this time, to have been completely oblivious to these things.
So, what year is this again...? *raises eyebrows*

Those journalists must be really, REALLY insightful.
They must know what it feels like to be a pop star that has been through so much pain and struggle.

I mean, like, are they even aware of the fact that they're dissing an international pop icon?

Are their names included on Yahoo!'s most popular search list for four consecutive years? And has any of them been named The World's Most Searched Person by the Guinness Book of World Records?

Have they sold more than 83 million records worldwide?

Did they go through a heavily-publicized meltdown and emerge out of the chaos alive and victorious?

Has any of them ever performed on a hugely-successful world tour, grossing US$74.6 million in its first 48 US shows, with already 87 shows done so far and twelve more to go, in front of thousands of screaming fans?

Do they have their own names carved on a Hollywood Walk of Fame star?

Has any of them become the first female artist to have five #1 studio albums in the United States?

Answer 'yes' to any of the above questions, and we'll talk.
Otherwise, fuck off.

In an ignorant society that feeds its pseudo-happiness upon other people's downfall, shameless dissing can be the greatest form of flattery.

After all, for a typical pop act desperate for fame, bad press is essential. It gives you coverage and puts you on the map. Look at what Madonna used to do. Or what Lady Gaga does now. One has to stand out in order to get noticed. And that is true.

But for a pop icon as well-known and internationally-recognized as Britney, getting savage reviews from heartless, bitter journalists is inevitable. It's true that many people are rooting for her now that she has managed to clean up her act and lead a highly-successful comeback, but just as many people would love to see her fall from grace for the second time, if that's even remotely possible. When you're as big and successful as Britney, every little mistake you make can cause the whole world to go down on you.

Yet many people forget that underneath the make-up, the hair extensions, and the whole Circus-themed camaraderie, she is still a fragile human being.

And there's no way out for her. This is like a two-way dead-end.
If she sings live and doesn't sound good, people will bitch about her vocal pitch and say she's not fit to be a "real singer", whatever that means. If she lipsynchs her songs and puts on a theatrical show, they then say she doesn't put any effort into singing live and therefore is also not fit to be a "real singer", still.

Either way, she'll lose. So what's the bloody point?

So she doesn't sing live, at least not all the time.
So she hasn't reached the physical fitness level she once sustained at her prime.
So she doesn't yell out city names correctly and barely speaks to and interacts with the audience during her shows.

Big deal. Live with it.

Saying that her lipsynching in concerts is previously unheard of is like saying that nobody knows kangaroos live in Australia. Seriously. Like, what's the big deal?

She's barely a woman. She's 28, with two toddlers in tow. She's been through a lot, more than any of us could ever imagine. She had lost all hope, she had hit rock-bottom, she had experienced some of the cruelest, most terrible things. To have experienced all that and be able, still, to embark on a world tour filled with endless top-class performances is already a miracle in itself. Agreed?

Nobody in their right minds would have thought, two years ago, that the erratic, petrol-station-hopping, cigarette-smoking, British-accented Britney Spears would ever be able to record another smash-hit album and do another world tour let alone reclaim her Pop Princess throne, a title that was left unoccupied when she was gone from the music scene.

Did you think she could do it? Heck, even I didn't think she could, and this is coming from an avid fan who has always been endlessly supportive of her decisions, even when she was going through her ugliest, most horrifying days. But she did recover, miraculously so, like a phoenix rising up from the flames. And now she's back on top of her game, better than ever.

This is supposed to be a good thing. And we should all be on her side. After all, she's still one of us. She's just a normal human being trying to give her best for her fans and haters alike.

How would you feel if you were in her shoes?

*sighs*

We just can't leave our superstars alone, now, can we?
We love seeing them fall to pieces just as much as we wanna see them soar.

It's our money we're spending. And it's our idol we're spending it on.
So please, with all due respect, mind your own effin' business and find something a little less exploitative to write about.

So shut your dirty little mouths up. And please leave her alone.

I'll still come to her concert tomorrow, and I'm gonna love every second of it, no matter what.

I love you, Britney.

...you're my silver lining, covered in gold...

2009-11-03T01:47:00.008+11:00

Currently listening to:Breathing Underwater - Marie Digby

.catch the next train home.
City Loop Train, Melbourne, September 2009

It strangely sounds like Mother Nature is wreaking havoc outside my window right now, noisy winds and all, and it scares the hell out of my pathetic little lily-livered self.

Amongst the endless array of hypothetical traits The Good Ol' Creator should have been a tad bit more generous in adding when making yours truly out of His own little brew, I'd say courage is on top of the list, definitely. Maybe it's about time for me to formally acknowledge the fact that I am an absolute fail when it comes to being brave in almost every single applicable situation. I can't even find the strength to slap a passing cockroach with a slipper; no, I'd rather cut myself sore with a nail-clipper instead, thank you very much.

So what makes one think that I can stand fifteen painful minutes of listening to crazy winds banging on my windows with crackling drizzles as the background noise without freaking myself out?
*shivers at the thought*

Thank heavens for window shutters.
At the very least they have spared me the torture of having to visually witness the entire crazy-winds-banging-on-window camaraderie.

And please don't judge me on this one. I know this honest confession doesn't bode well with the social integrity of that squishy piece of flesh between my legs, but oi, what the heck, right? I owe this to myself.

All wimpiness aside (and apparently I am allowed to draw newly-coined words out of thin air now!), I can now merrily tell you that, ta-dah! Summer is here.

And as much as I want to join the melanoma-prone crowd of sunshine lovers who are all gearing up to welcome the sunny days and humid nights, apparently the exact opposite applies in real life.

I have recently found myself guilty of not wanting to move on with my life as a new season rolls by. This is proven by the lingering overabundance of cardigans, jackets, and coats still scattered all around my room, and the pressing urge to always have an extra layer of clothing with me that I still feel nagging on my winter-loving conscience whenever I plan to go out.

I'm not sure if these two trivial facts are in any way relevant to my reluctance towards welcoming summer with open arms; I do know, though, that hotter temperatures will mean longer days, and longer days will probably mean spending more time outdoors, under the baking hotness of good ol' Apollo.

Being such an ungrateful, insecure pussy myself, this smells like a disaster waiting to happen. This is the time of the year when I feel that my insecurity over physical imperfections can be socially justified. It would be sweet to shed off a few kilos in order to look better in those pretty little tanktops and shorts. It would be convenient to have faster metabolism so those post-BBQ fat won't stay in undesirable spots. It certainly would be lovely to have a smooth, flawless complexion. And maybe a slightly lighter hair color tone?

But no, I should stop at that.
Asking for perfection would be pushing the boundaries a little. Or a LOT. You know, the whole preserving-the-normal-distribution-curve deal?

So next time you complain about life not being fair, take some time to stop and think about how boring and uninteresting it would be if every single person around you is skinny, has blond hair and blue eyes, and possesses a complexion so flawless and pretty even flowers will turn around in envy.
Differences are good. Uniformity undermines beauty; without diversity, it would be possible for anyone to stand out. *raises eyebrows*

And the world certainly doesn't need a second Tyra Banks running around promoting self-acceptance and natural beauty while wearing elaborate weaves and make up as thick as a freaking Twilight book half the time.
So I think I'll stick with staying true to my stuck-up, insecure self. I mean, what damage can pale skin and a pair of slanty eyes do?

*insert inappropriate Asian joke here*

...I know, I know.
Sorry if you all just didn't get that.

One's writing finesse tend to get a little rusty after about two months of blogging celibacy. And coherence hasn't exactly been one of my finer qualities all along, so.. your call. *sighs*

Truthfully speaking, I'm still trying to get back on the swing of things.
Thanks to the magical wonders of Twitter, my desire to pour out my disorganized, borderline schizophrenic thoughts into extensive paragraphs has gracelessly fallen down a southern path deeper and longer than the endless escalators at Parliament station. Why waffle when you can bitch your life away in 140 characters, or less?

That might or might not explain the imaginary cobwebs which are hanging, pixelated and virtual, all over this blog's deserted home page. Either that, or maybe your overly-vivid imagination is playing with your spatial sense of existence once again. None of which I give a damn about, honestly.

So, yes.
Welcome back, me.

Now that I've made my point, or NOT, I invite you to simply drag your mouse to that throbbing red square with the cross in its center, then let me do a respectful bow before the curtains are drawn and the lights go out when you make that life-changing click.

Ta.
*waves*

...but don't let it all go to your head...

2009-08-21T23:54:00.013+10:00

Currently listening to: Song for a Friend - Jason Mraz

.water traces.
12 Panorama St, Clayton, July 2009

I love how Blogger's built-in spellcheck system automatically strikes a dotted red line under every word that, despite being correctly-spelled as far as general English appropriateness is concerned, doesn't abide to the spelling rules of American English .

It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, knowing that in a land of ever-changing weather conditions, crazy spelling - the way Aussies (and Poms, in this case) spell every word ending with '-ize', like 'institutionalize' or 'organize', with an 's' instead of a 'z' still intrigues me every time - and crazy accents with oddly-placed vowel emphasis *cringes*, at least someone, or something, in this case, is still willing to give me some credit for staying true to my stuck-up Americanized self.

Notice how I just spelled 'Americanized' with a perfectly-placed 'z' right then 'n there.
Ah, fuck it. I love my Starbucks. Leave me and my capitalistic golden arches alone.

...Anyway.
*raises eyebrows*

There's a reason why people need adequate vocal training if they wish to successfully belt out powerhouse tunes like their throats are made out of gold, or something.
That's because singing properly isn't exactly an easy feat.

I attended a music practice in the city earlier today. The practice was great; I got to meet some super-cool people with immense talent who shared my passion in music. We played a couple of songs, did random jam sessions, watched a couple of crazy videos, and basically had fun together. We even managed to find this rookie band a name! *grins*
More on that part later, in a future post somewhere.

So yes. It was fun, and rewarding.
But then came the annoying part, a few hours after the practice wrapped up.

Two words: throat spasm.
*coughs*

My vocal chords would be screaming in pain right about now if they could.
Three hard-earned years of vocal lessons, in the choir and with a coach, all gone just like that. *snaps fingers together*

In case you huggable trolls aren't aware of this little fact, I gotta tell you, singing is more than just about being able to hold and sustain a note. It is as much about establishing emotional connection with both the people you're singing with - other singers if present and the rest of the band - and the people you're singing to - the audience - as it is about maintaining vocal stamina. And if the current state of my voice is any indication *cough cough*, I'm convinced the latter needs a substantial amount of improvement.

Now I'm totally feeling the strain. And not because I wasn't trying my best to sing properly; admittedly, I'd just been slacking off.

Oh, lost musical forte, where the bloody hell are thou?

Maybe I should start practicing again.
And I will. Soon. Just you watch.
*sighs*

But before that, first I'm heading to bed.
It's late, and I'm tired. Tomorrow's Saturday and we all should be well-rested!

Let's hope I don't wake up with a spastic throat tomorrow morning.
*cough cough*

PS: One of my favorite bloggers just got plagiarized. And clearly she's none too happy about it. Go check her out HERE. :)

...you couldn't have loved me better...

2009-08-05T23:26:00.001+10:00

Currently listening to: Already Gone - Kelly Clarkson

.shadesofwhiteandblue.
Sky High, Mt. Dandenong, Aug 2009

Hi. *does a communitychannel-style dorky wave*

So this year's not-so-chilly-but-still-freaking-freezing winter has rightfully managed to remind me of three not-so-trivial things;

ONE, that knitted scarves are unbelievably warm! And as far as my superior sense of fashion goes *cough cough*, I can say they go really well with trench coats of any color and cropped woolen jackets; coats of the big-buttoned, double-breasted variety are still preferable, though;

TWO, that jumpers and jackets go in and out of style nearly twice as fast as Katy Perry's post-"I Kissed a Girl" singles. Yeah, no kidding. If the miserable state of my wardrobe is any indication, I'd probably have to be more careful in color-coding and rotating my not-so-quantifiable collection of winter outfits in the future;

and THREE, that you should never, I repeat, NEVER ever think that leaving the house without carrying an umbrella with you in the hopes of not getting drenched by the rain is a good idea. Like, for heaven's sake, it always rains in winter, alright? No exceptions. And Melbourne's renowned four-seasons-in-a-day phenomenon only make things worse. For you fortunate car owners out there, seriously, good for you. *sighs*

Oh, and also the fact that being perpetually caught in the cold can really wear out one's batteries. Or mood. Or patience. But I know this already, at least I think I do; God knows I'd learned it the hard way last year.

*shivers*

But yeah. Apart from being slightly hypothermic, I actually don't have anything significant to complain about these days. Uni's been pretty okay, and since I'm doing two Behavioral Studies subjects - which are both immensely fascinating, I might add - this semester, I guess it means you'll get to see more of my snobbish, tortured-philosopher-in-disguise side in the future, if that makes any difference.

Don't get me started on the other two subjects I'm doing this semester, though.
Let's just say that even mere descriptive takes on those demented academic mumbojumbos may inflict on their subjected audiences episodes of extreme pain more excruciatingly difficult to endure than trying to listen to Brooke Hogan's so-called "singing".
I'm just sayin'. *shrugs*

Anyway.

On a slightly happier note, I had TWO fancy trips to Mount Dandenong last week. Two beautiful days of awesomeness galore, on two separate dates, with two different sets of friends.

Hold on. Let me marvel on that thought-provoking statement for a moment.
Ha. Take that bitches. I'm a confirmed social butterfly. Does that make you proud? *winks*

That was a sarcastic remark, by the way, for those of you who weren't stupid enough to understand my spastic sense of humor.

*scratches head*

Um, yeah.
These two photos clearly indicate that I really have to work on getting a less mainstream, more unusual photowhoring spot next time. For what it's worth, I personally think Sky High's The Giant Chair attraction has auspiciously achieved celebrity status within the super-trendy Facebook universe, judging from its ubiquitous, almost legendary presence as the defining background element of many people's profile pictures.

I, sadly, had gone down the exact same path, like many others had before me.
'had' being the operative word, which means that as of now I no longer have the commercial pose, as my quirky friend Christy would put in, on my cluttered profile page. So I guess that's behind me.

So, yes, For the shame of it all, I hereby proclaim my complete lack of photo-taking originality. Here are two solid proof.

This is from the first trip;

and this one's from the second;

Same spot, same place, same chair, different time of the day, different sets of people.

Freedom of expression OR conforming to normative trends?
You decide. *shrugs*

Just like what Christopher Lasch once argued, the modern 21st century everyman is indeed perpetually overcome with narcissistic tendencies.

But I won't go into that just yet. It's late, and since my quest for physical fitness requires me to stop imitating a vampire and return to conventional sleeping hours, I think I need to go to bed, like, NOW, or something. *yawns*

So I guess catch you guys later?
I promise I'll do updates more often from now on. :)

Bye!

*does another communitychannel-style wave then heads to bed*

...and you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone, or anyone at all...

2009-07-15T17:34:00.004+10:00

Currently listening to: The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most - Dashboard Confessional

.meanbecauseyou'restupid.
Kawah Putih, Lembang, 2008

...You know what?
Good job.

When I was little, you didn't give a damn about how well I could draw, or sing, or write, or fluently recite classical poems kids my age weren't even supposed to be able to read. All you cared about was my freaking academic achievements.
You didn't care how sociable on the surface I was, or how many friends I had. You didn't care how sad, and depressed, and lonely I was as a kid, deep down inside.

When I came home with my end-of-semester report feeling elated because I got full marks for English, you sulked and asked why I almost didn't pass Maths.
When I told you my vocal teacher praised me for nailing that absurdly complicated Ella Fitzgerald song at practice, you pointed out I could've done so much better if I had continued with my boring piano lessons.
When I asked for permission to join the high school choir, you protested, claiming singing would distract me and thus further damage my already messed-up grades.

You never gave me the space I needed.
You say I'm slow. And lazy. And unmotivated. And simply good for nothing.

You got yourself worried sick everytime I came home late from school, even after I reached seventeen. With no reason, because I wasn't even acting out. Not anymore anyway.
You scolded me when I decided to choose Social Sciences over Physics and Chemistry. Then you assured me that I had successfully let go of my one chance to succeed later in life when I made that foolish decision.
From then on, you refuse to acknowledge my academic achievements. Even when I managed to get an almost perfect score for my TOEFL test, you weren't even proud of me.

You bragged about how you were already making money when you were my age, and brought me down for not being able to do the same for myself right now.
You threatened to kick me out of the house when once I had the courage to stand up for myself and question your integrity.
You took my first love away from me at such a young, tender age.
You deprived me of my teenage freedom. And you forced me to grow up far too soon.

You never liked seeing me happy in my element.
You wanted me to embrace your ideal picture of what you thought I needed. Everything wasn't about me being happy; it was all about you wanting me to relive your unfinished ambitions and unachieved goals.

You told me, over and over again, that I would never be as good as you. Ever.

And yeah, come to think of it, I wouldn't want to be as good as you even if I could.
Everything is just so out of control that I don't know what to believe anymore.

Now that I'm graduating soon, you're already starting to worry about what I'm gonna do with my entire future now that it's lurking close right around the corner.

No excuses. No space for me to even worry about myself. Everything is about you, and your thoughts, and your insecurities, and your fucking neverending expectations.

I can't even look at myself in the mirror now because you have stripped me of every last bit of self-confidence that I used to have before all this.
I can't even force myself to believe that I'm at least good for something because you have never convinced me that I actually am.

Hell, I can't even be free to see the people I love, and the one person I care about the most, simply because you have jailed me in my pretty little golden cage. Well-groomed, but trapped. Self-sufficient, but helpless.

And now that everything's said and done, I don't fucking know what to do with myself.
Thanks to you.

"This is for your own good" just doesn't cut it anymore. Alright? And neither does "You'll understand when you're older".
I think I'm old enough to decide what's good for me. Seriously. Back off.

You gotta start learning to accept the fact that this surly, over-demanding son of a bitch is really who I am. Warts and all. Your call.

I'm sick of always trying to be the person I don't wanna be.
I'm sorry. But this isn't what I want.

Please give me some space. To breathe. To break free. To think this over.
And to recover.

Heaven knows this may only be the only chance I got.

...surreal...

2009-07-03T16:15:00.006+10:00

.tracesofgoodbye.
SQ962, T2 Changi Airport, June 2009

surreal.

i wake up in a daze, my breaths ragged, my eyes bleary.
my trembling hands lie open, powerless, weak.
with every pulse of my heart that beats in silence, i feel you, i miss you, i so long for you.

my brittle hands, they knew.
last night, in my dream, they were reaching out to you.

i watch, helpless, as the visual fragments of days long gone begin to unfold, engulfing this worn-out soul with the senseless guilt of an unrequited passion.

every move, every smile, every word, every little twinkle of your puppy-dog eyes...
they chase my weary thoughts away, endlessly.
i've got nowhere else to stay, but here. inside the warm confines of my sweet misery.
with you.

and i shudder, as i begin to remember, to recall, to celebrate the trailing steps of your nonexistence.

the way you sing to me the soft lullabies of the stars,
the way your velvet voice entertains my senses,
the way your beautiful brown eyes lock oh-so-gently into mine,
a thousand words communicated in silence,
as your fingers trace the outlines of my lips,
ever so carefully...

so delicate,
the rapturous delight i find within the comforting warmth of your sheer presence...

and so i let myself sway, gently, along the fragile lines of my sorrow. slowly wasting away like an empty vessel void of emotions.

the inane thoughts i have of you are all but a blur, swimming in a puddle of could've-beens, would've-beens, might've-beens...

for everything has an end, each story a final epilogue.
and so it is. our story has reached its afterglow, even far before it has a chance to begin.

what's the use of dreaming about all the things that never were when all i can find is despair and regret?

but i just can't help it.

with no safety net,
i have let myself fall.
deep.

again.

"...imagine there was no tomorrow,
imagine that i couldn't see your face,
there would be no limit to my sorrow,
'cause there's nothing that could fill this space...
i don't wanna put it off for too long,
i didn't say all that I had to say,
i wanna take my time and right the wrong before we get to that place..."

...still when i'm a mess, i still put on a vest...

2009-07-01T11:25:00.030+10:00

Currently listening to: Superwoman - Alicia Keys

.nomatterwhattheysay.
Wellington Rd, Clayton, May 2009

...Er, hi.

*pushes cobwebs out of the way*

I have now come to terms with the fact that my supposedly-superb writing skills are now as obsolete as Mischa Barton's nonexistent movie career. And that reviving the spirit of this neglected blog is proving to be a foolish attempt even more terminally futile than trying to pronounce yours truly's long-ass name without having an oral seizure of the spastic variety.

*shrugs*

Well.
I do know that a dismissive lift of the left eyebrow and a bashful, happy-go-lucky grin won't pass as a decent excuse to rightfully explain my extended absence. But I needed that break. I needed to get away for a while. I had to organize my thoughts, and deal with my emotions.
And so I did.

In retrospect, though, I do think that the blog deserved some down time of its own, too. A part of my self-absorbed psyche likes to believe that the world was a better place, on a micro scale, during my absence. One less irrational wave of noises to deal with. One less snobby blogger to bitch about. Definitely wasn't world-peace material, that's for damn sure. But this irrational-noise-making fuckwit was simply having too much on his plate. So I guess in the end the silence was well-earned for. Wasn't it?

So, yeah. For the sake of humility - or lack thereof, I'll just shut up and humbly take the blame, basking in the unspoken guilt that all ye faithful readers - yes, all three of you - have unconsciously put on me when I was away.

To be frank, I did receive some complaints regarding the coma-like state of this blog over the last couple of months. Fragments of comments and questions ranging from trivial one-liners in the middle of casual conversations to borderline hostile paragraphs sent through various 21st-century social platforms. And they were all valid comments, actually.

Come to think of it, it is only natural for us to complain about stuff, right?
I mean, as community beings in charge of our own sense of self, we are rightfully entitled to occasional bursts of negative social commentary.
Or are we not?

Well, I know for a fact that affluent, effortless complaining is one of my precious few - if any - discernable talents.

I complain about my too-short Jakarta getaway. Three fucking weeks!
I complain about already missing Melbourne as soon as my plane touched down.
I complain about the weather.
I complain about traffic.
I complain about the lack of proper coffee in my house. And when I say proper coffee I earnestly don't mean tangy, weak, watery coffee of the instant variety.

I complain about the local TV shows that I get exposed to whenever I turn on the telly.
I complain about bad grammar.
I complain about not being able to afford better seats for Britney Spears's Melbourne concert. *sobs*

I complain about not getting enough sleep.
I complain about having nothing to do.
I complain about not being able to be out and about simply because the sheer presence of the only form of modern transportation that I can get access to here is as scarce as the amount of hair follicles remaining on Donald Trump's head.

I complain about not being able to write large blocks of texts containing witty lines, incoherent words and jumbled-up sentences with ease anymore. And this is precisely what drove me to refrain from blogging in the first place. Right now I feel like my over-the-top literary skills now reach as far as my koi fish's ability to remember their feeding times correctly. I mean, hello-o-o, how many times do I have to remind you guys that bobbing your slimy little heads by the sides of the pond at 3pm isn't gonna do anything to get you food?

Umm. Yeah. See? Incoherent?
*clears throat*

But anyway.

I complain about the miserable state of my skin, and how my face now resembles a large, greasy, cheese-covered meat lover's pizza, for lack of a more descriptive comparison.
I complain about my weight.
I complain about only getting a big fat C for my BHS2711 essay.

I complain about not knowing what to do with my life.
I complain about not knowing what I've made out of my life so far.
And yes, I complain about being such a total jerk for complaining about everything.

Yeah. Being an acute complainer definitely has its perks.
But don't we all complain about stuff we don't like?

Notice how many times I have repeatedly used the word 'complain' during the course of this post. I've used it far too many times and now the word fails to make a point.

And why the hell did I choose to start yapping about complaining in the first place?

*shrugs*
Maybe I'm just uninspired. At least I tried.

But hey. Thanks for all your concern.
The sabbatical did me good. And now I'm fully recharged, ready to churn out more incomprehensible, witty-sounding words for you guys to get crazy about. Or not.

Now y'all can heave out a sigh and be rest assured that this man *points at self* is not dead, yet. And this blog will continue to be the bane of existence of you guys o faithful readers - oh yes, all three of you still - as long as the resident bitch, namely me, lives.

I hereby welcome you back to my realm of unintelligible social discourse.
Make yourselves at home. And have a pleasant stay. *winks*

...'Till next time.

...if everything would stop, i'd listen for your heart...

2009-04-05T23:24:00.007+10:00

Currently listening to: My Hands - David Archuleta

.thebestofthebest.
Gloria Jean's Coffees, Borders Chadstone, Melbourne, April 2009
taken by Edina Cecilia Saputra

Oh dear.
Now I'm seriously beginning to wonder exactly why I'm such a sucker for charming good looks and the like.

A little tip, fellas.
Next time you're thinking to charm the bananas outta this little whacked-out bloke - if ever, I might add, on one of those rare jolly good days that are as eminently scarce as the chance of seeing Tyra Banks on TV without her ever-present weave - try arming yourself with a pair of irresistible blue eyes, lopsided smiles, and scruffy blond hair, and you're good to go. That oughta do the job pretty darn well as far as my objective intelligence is concerned

And oh, throw in some exceptional coffee-making skills and occasional hints of dormant acrobatic talent, and just like that, I'll be head-over-heels in love.

I'm just sayin'.
*shrugs*

If that doesn't strip me off of what little bit of respect you guys still had left for this shallow, uncoordinated mess of an innocent soul, I don't know what will.

Anyway.

For those of you who don't know, this year's Daylight Savings Time in Victoria ended this morning, so I got an extra hour of sleep last night! *grins*

Coincidentally, the end of a year's DST usually also means the end of summer!
I seriously can't be any more hyped up than this.

Hell yeah, I'm glad the season's over. And I for one am bloody sure I'm not gonna go all teary-eyed and mellow about it.
No more scorching hot days, no more annoying flies, no more sunnies and shorts, no more applying sticky sunscreen all over my over-tanned skin and feeling like marinaded meat being grilled inside one hell of a giant, ozon-less oven.

And that's my cue to go "YAY!", I suppose?
*raises eyebrow*

Whatever. I'm just relieved Autumn's almost here.

Maybe it's time to rearrange my wardrobe once again.
Hang some. Fold out some. Dry clean some. Wash up some. Shop for some? *laughs*
Goodbye sunnies and shorts, hello trench coats and scarves!

Important countdowns:
One week to go before Easter Break starts.
Five days to Good Friday.
And exactly sixteen days to Jason Mraz's April 21 concert!

I know I shouldn't keep rubbing that in but I just can't help it.
*sighs*

For the time being, I wish you all a pleasant week ahead.
Enjoy the cold while it lasts! God knows I will. =)

...'cause i like being submerged in your contradictions...

2009-03-27T23:44:00.001+11:00

Well, hello there, extreme moodswings.
Was just beginning to wonder where the bloody hell you'd been.

*shakes head*

The air is frigid, and the night is cold. My thoughts are scattered all over the place, so are my feelings. I feel like I'm slowly losing my grip. My iTunes totally defies me; Jason Mraz's "A Beautiful Mess" is quietly playing and right now I feel like crying.

Heck.
I have absolutely no freaking idea why this is happening.

No, actually scratch that. I do know exactly why my emotions are all wishy-washy and my head feels like it's gonna explode and pollute the air with colorful streamers and dead butterflies any minute. Classic stuff, really. The conscience's just tired.

Any Freudian fanatic would oh-so-breathlessly conclude that my untamed, psychedelic id is probably just acting out, and with the know-it-all superego on subconscious-realm-level leave, the far-too-overworked ego is, well, too overworked to be able to maintain the balance.
If anything, the old man's got a point. Eerily enough. No wonder Jung decided to stray.

But yeah. Spare me your psyche-in-distress babble and let me ramble on.
*clears throat*

True, this isn't the first time my emotional sanity suddenly decided out of nowhere to spark up some trouble and start going downhill without even the slightest bit of forewarning. Last time it happened I spent nights and nights wide awake, tossing and turning in my bed, my bleary eyes weary and my mind racing with a million thoughts. It was months ago. So why come back now?

Now the idea of pulling a pre-Circus Britney Spears and succumbing headfirst into a downward spiral of emotional turmoil seems almost as tempting as tucking into a hearty bowl of creamy caramel-crusted vanilla ice-cream in the middle of the night. My moodswings are way out of control, and my whole body is aching with all the obvious symptoms of physical unhealthiness; I've been subconsciously bingeing on food and coffee these past couple of days so I'd guess that's where the uneasiness must come from.

Don't judge. Don't ask why.
And please fix that pretentious stare someplace else thank you very much.

They say "when life gives you limes, catch them and make lemonade", or something along those lines. I've never been a dear whenever it comes to cheesy quotes and the like. But what I'm wondering is this: what if you get so sick and tired of catching soaring fruits above your head that after a while you just don't have the power to squeeze the juices out of those cute little yellow sour prodigies let alone serve them in fancy crystal glasses complete with ice-cubes and one of those random cocktail-umbrella-decoration thingmabobs?

Sometimes I get so tired I just wanna switch myself off for a while.
Somebody give me a red-buttoned tail soon, please.
If Doraemon can have one handy why can't I?

*sighs*

I'm assuming that since you guys are still sticking around after all these years, by now you must have grown into repositioning my insensible thoughts and unparalleled random nonsense within your range of tolerance.
A lot of nonsensical things make sense in my head, especially in trying times like this, personally-speaking. So bear with me.

And those little things that reality still has yet to deprive me of; warm, well-earned hugs, entertaining late-night phone calls with loved ones, sweet messages, unexpected surprises, and a warm cup of chamomile tea...? Please don't take them away from me.

Heaven knows what this miserable mess would be without them.

*kneels down and prays*

...Lord, help me.

...sounding hopeful but it's making me cry...

2009-03-13T12:54:00.004+11:00

Currently listening to: Mr. Curiosity - Jason Mraz

.patterns.
Pakenham train, Melbourne, March 2009

Move over, Eric.
Looks like yours truly has earned himself a new coffee-ordering alias.

Say hello to Justin, everybody.

*bows*

It all began quite innocently as far as coffee-ordering between classes is concerned.

So there I was, standing by the CoffeeHQ pick-up counter waiting for my regular skinny caramel latte to be served, subconsciously blending in amongst the swarm of other coffee-and-sugar addicts also in line for their morning caffeine kicks. Usual stuff, really; nothing special apart from the fact that the one taking my order earlier was a newbie who had to ask for my name twice. I shrugged that off and waited patiently.

Arriving at the pick-up point, I saw a familiar face: the super-friendly barista who usually takes my order. Apparently she was just about to begin her shift for the day. So we chatted for a while, talking about the weather and such since that's the way Aussies do it down here, and she made a comment about the outrageous size of the Strategic Marketing textbook I was shamelessly carrying around campus like the world's biggest dork or something.

Still nothing new at this point; I realized that I was already ten minutes late by then but I chose not to freak out and kept on with the conversation.
Just then I could faintly hear the name Justin being called out by the in-store barista in-between sentences. Obviously thinking that name wasn't referring to me, I ignored it. But when the called out "regular skinny caramel latte" out lout, his eyes darting towards where I was standing, I came to my senses and rushed for the drink.

All the while I was thinking, "Wha-?"
Did he just call me Justin?

"...Justin?" He immediately asked, winking one playful eye, when he saw me reluctantly taking the cup with the barely-legible scribble "Justin" etched out across one side. "Who are you, and what have you done to the Jesse we all knew and loved?"

I shrugged to his, and of course the friendly barista's, great amusement.
"I know. So much for trying to stay true to myself." I then replied with a laugh.

Seeing as it was probably a good idea that I take off straight away since I was already really, almost unforgivably late, I waved them goodbye after they made sure the poor newbie would get my correct name next time.

Thinking about the incident just makes me smile. Even now.
I mean, mixing up Jesse with Justin? Come on. That's like too far gone, man. Seriously.

*grins at the thought*

Anyway.
It's late, and I should head to bed soon.

The weather's been wacky, and it's already starting to take a toll on my physical well-being. There's only so much consecutive hot-and-cold days a guy's body can endure, and I guess my immune system's running out of batteries.

Let's hope I stay healthy for the time being. Getting sick would definitely suck, big time. It's not like I don't have too much stuff going on around me already.

Oh well.
*sighs*

Have a great weekend, guys.

PS: I got my Jason Mraz ticket! Can't wait for April 21! *jumps around*

...and you say that all that it takes is a phone call...

2009-03-07T00:45:00.003+11:00

Currently listening to: Chinese - Lily Allen

.can'tsingadifferentsong.
Crown Complex, Southbank, March 2009

I got through Week 1 unscratched and unharmed.
That by itself is an achievement, so don't blame me if I'm gloating just a little. *grins*

Anyway.

Lately people have been telling me that I bitch too much about stuff. Uni stuff, friendship stuff, spiritual stuff, social drama stuff whatsoever, you name it.

I bitch about the fact that MKX3481 is boring as hell.
I bitch about having just spent a little under $200 for textbooks I most probably won't even bother flicking through until like the second half of the semester.
I bitch about having only Tuesdays off this semester.
I bitch about the eternal messiness of my room. Shocker.
I bitch about not being able to do my laundry this week because the weather's been cold and humid all week.
I bitch about contradicting myself since ironically I prefer cold over hot days anyway.
I bitch about friends in general.
I bitch about backstabbers.
I bitch about the painful fact that bitching about backstabbers actually makes me one too.

And mind you, being universally-known as the resident bitch of a given social circle isn't exactly a desirable trait one should be proud of. I for one wouldn't like that for sure.
So this got me thinking.

While it is remotely satisfying to know that at least I can self-identify as being in the same league as Christina Aguilera, superbitch-wise, even the powerhouse singer herself says that this can't last forever. One simply can't afford being mean and bitchy all the freaking time; the batteries are bound to run out at some point.

So for now, give me a chance to try to redeem myself.
Instead of getting on with my usual forte of rambling about things I don't like, this time I'm gonna write about things I do like.

Ready?

*takes a deep breath*

For starters, I like my room.

I like how my room is always cold in the morning, no matter how hot and sunny it is outside.

I like staying curled up under my super-warm blanket, snoozing the alarm as I desperately try to get back to sleep.

I like staring at my colorful hanging lights as I slowly drift off to sleep.

I like my bed.

I like my two adorable goldfish, Comet and Rudolph.

I like living in the suburbs.

I like my housemates. And I certainly love my house to bits!

I like my campus. Totally.

I like my course, though the workload can be a bit much sometimes.

I like Menzies Building's H1 lecture theater for no reason.

I like my BHS1711 and BHS1712 lecturer last year. And being the nerd that I am, I might've liked him a tad bit too much.

I like winter. Like I said, I love getting all cold and bundled up. Gives me an excuse to put on my fancy coats and scarfs! *grins*

I like watching the vapor trails that my breaths leave behind in the air during winter.

And I like walking around Melbourne CBD in winter. Makes me feel at home.

I like having nothing to do on a Saturday morning.

I like having nothing to do on weekdays.

I like having nothing to do at most times, actually.

I like hanging out in the Gloria Jeans Coffees outlet inside Borders Chadstone.

But I gotta say I like Starbucks even more.

I like imitating accents. And I think the British are admirable for being able to pull off such a difficult and irritating tone. No kidding.

I like it when people mistake me as an American. It used to annoy me initially, but since this happens to me on a daily basis, literally, I guess I've gotten used to it already by now. *grins*

I like how the baristas in my favorite coffee outlets know me by name.

I like CoffeeHQ's skinny caramel latte.

I like Lily Allen's new album, "It's Not Me, It's You".

I like getting creeped out everytime I listen to Beyonce's singing voice. No offense, but it annoys the hell outta me.

I like watching fan-recorded videos of Britney Spears's "Circus" tour on YouTube, although the shaky cameras and the excessive shouting turn me off.

And while we're on the subject, I love love LOVE "Circus"! I like putting the album on repeat whenever I need a little moral boost.

I like Collins Street.

I like Federation Square.

I like walking along the Yarra, watching seagulls chase each other around the riverbanks.

I like jazz. And I obsess about Michael Buble every single day.

I like shopping.

I like shopping for discounted stuff.

I like shopping in Bandung.

I like shopping like there's no tomorrow. *laughs*

I like bitching about life in general.

I kinda like to constantly miss Jakarta. 'Cuz I do miss the town. Terribly.

I like FRIENDS. I like CHARMED. I like Gossip Girl.

I like Doraemon. He's my childhood hero.

I like hugging the people I love.

I like ruffling people's hair. If I ruffle your hair that means I genuinely care about you. *grins* And apparently my ex thinks this is amusing for some reason.

I like cooking. Cooking makes me happy.

I like decorating my walls.

I like collecting five-cent coins.

I like how I always run out of things to say everytime I try to do a list like this.

I like how whenever that happens, I'll rack my brains trying to think of anything else to say.

And of course, I like how I'll always give up after a while.

*laughs*

So that's it for now, I guess.

Now you know that I'm not that bitter a person. I know I might seem silly and cranky and sharp-tongued and even terribly annoying at times, but I do have some brighter qualities that also define me as a person, if any. Don't we all, anyway?

*yawns*

Alright. Better hop in the shower now.

Have a great weekend, guys. :)

...in case you're wondering what awesome looks like...

2009-03-01T21:51:00.002+11:00

...Now that's what I'm talking about.

...you think you're loving but you don't love me...

2009-02-27T12:09:00.006+11:00

Currently listening to: Warwick Avenue - Duffy

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Comet and Rudolph.

Just to be clear, Comet would be the tiny, orange one on the left.
And that makes Rudolph the fat, semi-omnivorous one with elaborate fins and tail on the right.

They were under the care of my housemate Nat when I was away for the summer. Needless to say she did an excellent job taking care of these two adorable kiddies. She was actually the one who gave them names! Thanks heaps, housemate. *grins*
Now that I'm back in town, and also because she's flying off to Singapore tonight, the tank has been safely put back at its rightful place, at the corner of my room right by the window. I'm really glad to have them back here with me. I hope they feel the same way.

*laughs*

Oh. Speaking of which.
Keeping fish has always been a part of my family tradition, actually.

In fact, my house back in J-town has a koi pond. Dad takes care of the pond along with its complex filter system and all the resident kois inside. It's been there for about ten years and counting, and it has seen about four different batches of kois during its long course of existence.

Back then when I was still living at home, the pond used to be the one peaceful spot I could go to whenever I needed a little distraction, or relief. It used to be my sweet escape, a chance to hide from life's ups and downs, and just chill, if only for a while.

I would just sit there in silence by the edge of the pond, watching aimlessly as the kois gracefully swim around the pond, minding their own business. Sometimes I would take the time to feed them, either by scattering some fish feed on the water surface or feeding them straight from my hands. They were so tame and friendly that they even let me stroke their backs while they chew away!

I miss the pond.
I miss just sitting there, thinking, enjoying the soothing sounds of running water and taking in the ornate color combinations of the kois as I desperately try to cheer myself up.

And that's exactly why I chose to go on with the tradition and keep fish here in Melbourne.
At least Comet and Rudolph will keep me company whenever I'm lonely. And you know, having pets is actually psychologically healthy! *laughs*

I gotta do something with the tank's water pump, though. Last night the filter got clogged, and although I had cleaned it up this morning, I have to make sure it's still working properly.

So, yeah.

*squints eyes as room suddenly becomes bright*

Oh gosh.
Mother Nature should really consider taking a chill pill, or something. Seriously. I'm starting to think of my air-con as my main life support device at the moment; it keeps me cooled down just enough to prevent myself from blowing off like a fuse. I mean, it is so hot that just now when I checked, the spare Mars bar that I put on the kitchen bench yesterday melted.

Yeah. Good job on that one.
Thank God tomorrow's gonna be much much cooler with a shower or two.
Well it's about damn time don't you think?
*sighs*

It would be nice to, like, trade places with Comet and Rudolph right about now; at least they've got plenty of water to keep them cool all the time.
*leers at fish with envy*

...Whatever.
Lates!

...hold your own, and know your name, and go your own way...

2009-02-24T21:49:00.004+11:00

Currently listening to: Details in the Fabric - Jason Mraz ft. James Morrison

.doiloveyoubecauseyou'rebeautiful?.
Bus 630 stop, Huntingdale Station, Feb 2009

My Semester 1 timetable is out, and I've got NO MORNING CLASS this semester! No, not even one, ladies and gentlemen. How amazing is that?!

*jumps around*

Not everything's settled though. I still have to sort out some things and switch some tutes around, if that's even possible. But we'll see. Uni hasn't even started yet, so I don't know how things are gonna play out.

For the time being, I'm just gonna stay put, and relax while I still can. My summer holiday's ending in less than a week, so I gotta make the most out of what little time I have left to just chill and get ready for the thirteen-week's worth of endless workload and sleepless nights that's waiting for me just 'round the corner.

Like right now, for instance. I'm just sitting here, in the warm confines of my uber-amazing room, smelling the sweet aroma of cranberries gently coming from the oil burner, lazily basking under the comforting, mesmerizing rays of my multicolored hanging lights while waiting for Gossip Girl's "Summer Kind of Wonderful" to load. Nothing short of awesome, I'd say.

And the weather's been quite decent lately, too. It even felt a bit like Fall today, with occasional breezes blowing by and the sun being uncharacteristically shy.
I really wish Summer would just end soon; I can't wait for the days to get shorter, and for the leaves to start turning yellow and red, and for the rain to finally start pouring again.

So I guess I've got plenty of reasons to smile. *grins*
I hope this lasts.

Oh, and with the intentions of jumping in the post-Oscar-euphoria bandwagon...

Slumdog Millionaire totally reigned on this year's Academy Awards. Shocker? Not so much. Hugh Jackman was funny and charming. The musical number was absolutely stunning, though Beyonce sure looked like she was miming her way through the whole act. Dustin Lance Black's acceptance speech brought me to tears. Kate Winslet's, however, made me laugh.

And to absolutely noone's surprise, Heath Ledger got his posthumous Oscar.
Oh yeah. Nicely done. 'Cuz he totally deserved that.

*gives a standing applause*

That's a wrap for the 81st Annual Academy Awards. I daresay you guys did a great job this year.
And out of shame and a twinge of inferiority, I'd have to admit that I haven't got a chance to watch this year's Best Picture winner. I'll work on that.

For now, just let me sit back, relax, inhale the smoky, cranberry-scent-infused air that fills my light-deprived dwelling space, and take in the array of severe product-placement overload, brand overcrowding, frozen-faced "actors", and fake, fabricated Upper-East-Side drama.

Heaven knows I've probably earned it.

*presses the 'Play' button*

...being with you is so dysfunctional...

2009-02-19T21:21:00.001+11:00

Currently listening to: My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson

.theblueandtheskyline.
Taman Anggrek Condominiums, Jakarta, Dec 2008

I'm crossing my fingers for two mayjah - as Victoria Beckham would put it - things:
1. getting a part-time job, and
2. getting tickets to Jason Mraz's April 20 concert!

Doing more so for the latter, just because Ticketmaster was being a bitch for not letting me or my friend Karina book FOUR tickets on one go. I mean, how hard is it gonna be, people? *shakes head*

Nothing's gonna stop me from trying again tomorrow, though. Terrorizing the Ticketmaster outlets in Clayton and Caulfield is definitely on my list, if that's what it takes. You better watch out.
Nah, I'm joking. I'm a wuss. I'd probably cry my eyes out and get kicked out in less than five minutes if I actually did that.

Yeah. So basically you can say I'm pooling my luck. What's left of it anyway. Heaven knows I've never been a particularly lucky dude, and I really don't think reality's gonna turn its way around and start being hella generous to me anytime soon. But no, I gotta stay positive. There can be miracles when you believe, say Whitney and Mariah. If the divas say so, who am I to think otherwise? *shrugs*

Gash. I wish I could just grab a stray leprechaun out of a nearby rainbow and rob him off of his pot of gold, or something. That would be sweet. *laughs*
As you all can see, realistic thoughts rarely cross my mind.

Anyway.

It's been,what, five days? And I still haven't finished unpacking.
The idea of rearranging my wardrobe and filling its shelves with stuff just kills me everytime it comes to mind. I don't know why. I know I gotta start soon, though. Probably tonight, if I feel like it.

My bed frame's officially screwed, and I gotta get it out of my room ASAP 'cuz it takes up a whole bunch of space. I took a base mattress from the storage room yesterday, put my bed on top of it, and placed the newly-created sleeping invention in the middle of the room. You can imagine how clustered and cramped my room looks like right about now.

This proves I've got a lot of work to do. And when I say 'work' I mean a bunch of household-related stuff I don't even wanna think about.

Ah. The joys of being independent.

Whatever happened to my happy-go-lucky days of childhood?

*silence*

...Have a great weekend, guys.

...standing in the light of your halo...

2009-02-15T19:31:00.000+11:00

Currently listening to: Halo - Beyonce

.beneaththemorningsky.
SQ951, Terminal 2 Bandara Soekarno-Hatta, Feb 2009

So I'm back in Melbourne, ladies and gentlemen.

It was pretty hard, you know, leaving Jakarta. A part of me didn't want to go and leave everything I had back there behind. And now I miss Mom more than ever. *sighs*
But I guess life has to go on, right?

So here I am, all in one piece. Still exhausted as hell, though, but I know the feeling's gonna go away eventually. I gotta say, Melbourne's looking pretty cheerful these days despite the fact that it just barely survived its worst heatwave on record a couple of weeks ago. I'm glad the bushfires can finally be contained and stopped, and it hopes that everything will go back to normal as soon as possible.

And it feels good to be back, it really does. Feels good to inhale the clean Melbourne air through my nostrils. Feels good to enjoy the Summer sunshine while I walk to the bus loop with my RayBans on and earphones plugged in. Feels good to find myself sitting here, inside the warm confines of my spacious room, facing the ever-familiar table, with a cup of coffee standing just beside my laptop Bodhi. Feels good to hang out with the housemates again and to get to know the new ones that moved in when I was away.

On that particular note, the house now has a much happier vibe going on inside since there's a toddler in the house!
I know, shocking, right? *raises eyebrows*

I promise I'm gonna introduce the adorable Niko to you guys in another post. He's just the sweetest, most adorable little thing I've ever seen my entire life, for real! I've only known him for less than a day but he's already grown into following me everywhere when I walk around the house, and has taken the liberty of calling me "Uncle J" with his cute little baby-language voice since he's two years old and can barely talk at all!

I'll make sure he gets featured in one of my future posts. *laughs*

Anyway.

It's kinda late, and I still have, like, a gazillion things to do.
Thank God I remembered to vacuum my room this morning. At least I've managed to actually get something done at all today.

I guess I better start getting used to taking care of myself again from now on.
*sighs*

Lates, guys!

...about where he kneels down and prays...

2009-02-09T10:02:00.006+11:00

My heart goes out to the victims and survivors of last weekend's Victorian bushfires.

The disaster was more extreme, and obviously more lethal, than The Ash Wednesday fires incident that occurred in 1983. The spread, and the amount of post-incident damages it leaves behind, can even be compared to the Black Friday bushfires that happened in Victoria in 1939.

So far, one hundred and seven people have been confirmed dead. Thousands of houses and other buildings have perished. The bushfires have burned down large areas of forests and destroyed vegetations. Now people are left homeless, loveless, and with nowhere to go.

The people of Victoria are mourning right now, as we speak.
This is sad, and terribly devastating.

It's ironic, how here in Jakarta we have abundant rainfall, even awfully so that town areas are flooded everytime it rains, while below us, some 3,000 miles down south, people are dying because of bushfires triggered by heat and arid weather conditions.

If only some of the rainfall could've showered down in Victoria to help put off the flames....
*shakes head*

I hope you guys can spare some time to click on the links I've provided above and read the articles.
Reach out. Feel their pain. Understand their losses.

May the ones who perished in the fire rest in peace.
And may those who are affected, and left, stay strong and positive.

*sighs*

...This is exactly why we should not try to piss off Mother Nature any further, people.
We should never take nature for granted. Never. Because once it goes against us, things are just gonna get ugly. Like this.

We don't own the planet. We have no right to decide what the planet's gonna do, how it's gonna grow, and where it's gonna go.
Humans are selfish by nature. We think we rule everything we divide, and we own everything we conquer.

Well, do we, now?

Sometimes we are too smart and hard-headed for our own good to realize that we are NOT as omnipotent, omniscient, and all-powerful like we often think we are. We'd like to believe that the elements of nature fall under our reign, and that we always have full and often reckless access to whatever resources available to us.
It takes extreme disasters like this one to remind us that in reality, the reverse prevails. Sadly.

If the Earth dies, we die; if we die, the Earth survives. Just like what Keanu Reeves says in "The Day The Earth Stood Still". And he actually makes a valid point by saying that.
What would we be, where would we go, if the planet goes against us?

We like to learn our lessons the hard way. We've made this point clear over the course of human history. But stories keep repeating, they always do.

Maybe this is Nature's way of telling us that after all these years, it still reigns supreme above all forms of life. And that we as humans, the keepers and caretakers of Nature, should abandon our reckless habits and return to taking care of this planet just like we're supposed to.

So, once again, I pray for the victims and survivors of the Victorian bushfires.
May you all find comfort and be safe.

I believe that everything happens for a reason. Likewise, there's a reason behind all this.
Something good is coming your way. Soon.
I believe that.

Blessed be.

*kneels down and prays*

...'cause in your eyes i'd like to stay...

2009-02-05T20:22:00.004+11:00

Currently listening to: Thinking of You - Katy Perry

.greyasthesky.
The Skyride, Sentosa Island, Singapore, 2009

First off, THIS makes me sad.
Poor little fella. *sighs*
Kindly click on the link, if you will.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is a perfectly valid example of why it is so NOT a good idea to keep polluting the environment.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but what I get is this.
As the global temperature rises, extreme heatwaves like the one Australia had just survived very recently can probably occur much more often during summer. Winters would get shorter and shorter as well, altering the pace of the seasonal cycle. Aside from rising sea levels due to the melting of ice caps and extreme weather anomalies during summers and winters, the sustainability of living beings can also be increasingly threatened by changing environmental conditions. And if this keeps up, soon enough innocent creatures like the koalas won't be the only ones severely affected by these bizarre shifts in nature.

The future of mankind is at stake here. And the change has to start from us.
*shakes head*

Anyway.

I apologize for the absence. *bows*
I'd say I've been busy and whatnot, but that would be a totally lame excuse.

These days my life practically revolves around work and the office. I work 8-to-4 four days a week, and the main office is located in the industrial area of Tangerang, so that means I have to commute all the way down to and from Tangerang almost every day.
Yeah, I gotta tell you, working as an intern in a really, REALLY busy office can really wear out one's batteries. For real. Most days I go home all spent and dizzy after a hard day's work. I can only sleep after 10 PM -- that's just the way my body clock is internally set -- and since during workdays I have to wake up at 5.30 in the morning, I no longer have the luxury of getting eight hours of sleep at night.

But aside from that, the job itself is kinda awesome. My cubicle's quite comfy, the people there are all nice and welcoming, and I kinda enjoy doing what I do at work, if that's even remotely possible. I got a taste of what being in the corporate work is going to feel like, and the experiences that I've gotten so far are valuable. I still fuck up my tasks sometimes, but my overall frequency of errors is drastically declining as we speak. After all, that's what all this is about, right? A learning process.

The internship's ending next week; Monday would be my last day of work. After that, I gotta move on straight to packing, and that's just too awful to think about right now. *tugs at hair*

Oh, I also spent last weekend in Singapore getting an eye checkup and vacationing. Three days weren't long at all, no, especially for a holiday, but at least I had some decent quality time with Mom and Dad. God knows all three of us deserve a good holiday together. And we did, thank God.

Next week is going to be the most emotional week of the entire Summer holiday. I'm sure of that. But I'll get through it. I know I will.

*yawns*

Shit. I want more glazed donuts.

...in respect to the festive season...

2009-01-26T09:09:00.001+11:00

.nianianyouyi.
Mall of Indonesia, Jan 2009

We're all still halfway through the festive season, and the photos from last night's Chinese New Year Eve dinner are still being processed as we speak, but in respect to the festive season, let me just drop a line or two and shout this out and loud:

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

Let's hope that the year of the Ox will bring luck, joy, peace, and prosperity for us all.

Be safe. Be healthy. Eat what you want, do what you like, for the festivity's not here to stay.
As with the chronology of yesterday's dinner and today's CNY gathering, I'll keep you guys posted. Don't worry.

Gotta get back to getting ready for today's hunt for hong baos!
I'll make the best out of today, that's for sure.

Take care! *waves*

And oh, of course, HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY too! *grins*

...the one after the candles were blown...

2009-01-19T08:43:00.000+11:00

Another year older, another year wiser.

January 18 went out without a bang this year. No surprises, no parties. Just a humble cake with two candles, a simple get-together with family, and a movie. Couldn’t have asked for more, honestly. I finally had what I had always wanted: a quiet, modest, peaceful birthday. And I’m happy. *grins*

Honestly, birthdays used to NOT mean that much to me. So I do get a bit older each year, yeah? Great. Fabulous. It’s just a matter of numbers, dude. Does it really matter?

Well, apparently, it does now that I’ve known better.

I’ve gotten over the childhood euphoria of expecting to see streamers and balloons and toys all over the house, to get all hyped up blowing candles on top of fancy sugarcoated cakes, and to receive a stack of birthday presents from other kids whenever January 18 came around. It was always either at home or at a nearby fast-food restaurant. Being the naïve, stupid kid that I was, I used to think that apart from Christmas, January 18 was the happiest day of the year, because I could finally have company during my birthdays. I got others to play with, to share moments with, to keep me happy and safe, after a whole year of being an only child. Those birthday parties were cute, and the presents were fab, though I gotta tell you most of them ended up in donation bags and charity giveaways anyway.

I grew up a little, and I sort of learned to appreciate the way adolescents during the late 90s celebrate birthdays. Very after-school special, with malicious tricks, water balloons full of paint, a whole bunch of splashing and running, and an awful lot of nasty, smelly, sticky liquid mixtures you don’t even wanna know about. Kids at that age, with their newfound freedom and developing sense of wicked creativity, sure knew how to make a piss out of somebody. It was fun, true, but was terribly disgusting at the same time. I took part in it. I victimized people. I became a victim. But I survived, barely. *laughs*

Then came the raging hormones. The conflicts. The groupings. The labelling. The prejudice, and the social struggles. Inner drama kings and queens began to reign in the hearts of teenagers, me included. And us drama kings and queens preferred to celebrate birthdays our way, dramas ‘n all. The element of surprise was still there in general. The hopeless romantics brought flowers and thoughtful presents for their loved ones, and sent their birthday wishes through the air via school radios and PA announcements. The popular ones hosted parties and get-togethers, from fancy restaurants and hotels to bars and clubs, and received sweet surprises from their peers. The geeks and losers just passed through unnoticed, simply forgotten. Why? Because in high school that’s the way things are supposed to be. You either shine and get yourselves noticed, or waddle in the absolute ignorance of others. Most of us spent our entire adolescent years struggling between the two extremes without actually getting anywhere in the end.

Did I manage to place myself somewhere decent after all? Dunno. But that doesn’t really matter anymore now does it?

Once upon a time, there was a boy. Twenty years, three big social steps later, here I am. I didn’t win the Science Olympics, didn’t earn myself a Grammy, and obviously didn’t invent the cure to AIDS or something. But I grew out of my own ignorant, childish, pathetic, foolish, full-of-crap self and managed to get real.

I learned not to be too aware of my social standing. I learned to be thankful of what I have. I learned to love selflessly, not selfishly. I learned not to pay too much attention to other people’s shallow judgments about me and my life. I learned to try. I learned to fight. I learned to forgive, and forget. I rose, I fell, I bounced back and stood again on my own two feet.

I found comfort. I found solace. I found my way back. I found love.

And that is why to me, turning twenty is a big deal.
I mean, twenty fucking years? Come on, that’s gotta count for something, no?
I hope I’d made that clear earlier on.

I’m now just this much closer to becoming a twentysomething. Imagine that.
Another twelve months, then I’m gonna have to wave goodbye to the falling leaves of my salad days, when I was green in judgment, to quote Shakespeare’s “Antony and Cleopatra”. Twelve months left before I stop sucking up to my parents, graduate, get real, freak out like a madhatter in distress, and oh, wait for it, face the big bad world out there, at last.

Am I ready? Not in a thousand years. But a guy has to start somewhere.

‘Cuz to me, the age of twenty is a turning point. No more playing around. No more dreaming. It’s time to actually do something, to move forward, to go ahead and take chances. Just like what Shaun said to Zach in “Shelter”, “you’ll never get what you want unless you take it”. Nobody’s gonna say that it’s always gonna be rainbows and butterflies, because we’re not living in some made-up utopia. Fuck-ups are inevitable, and difficulties lay ahead, sure, but that’s how life goes, right? Bumps on the road are bumps on the road because we think of them as such. They can be either the one thing that makes you fall apart or the stepping stone that will lead you to whatever you want to achieve.

Truth be told, I’m a freaking coward when it comes to ageing and growing old. I’m scared of the indefinite and uncertain. I don’t know where my life’s gonna take me. Yet I know I’m not gonna go anywhere just sitting here feeling sorry for myself, ‘cuz life is short, too short to be wasted upon doing things that aren’t right.

Millions of thanks to you guys for your sweet, encouraging birthday wishes.
I wouldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t because of you all. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

So here I am, standing nears the gates of adulthood, not knowing when to knock.
I’ve survived through twenty years of my God-knows-how-long period of existence. And so far, it has been a helluva ride. Where will it take me next?

That’s for me to find out myself. *winks*

Be blessed. Be safe. And be good. :)

...bridges are burning, baby i'm learning a new way of thinking now...

2009-01-15T10:14:00.001+11:00

Currently listening to: Unusual You - Britney Spears

.stuckintraffic.
Tosari stop, Transjakarta Busway Corridor 1, 2009

Rumor has it that "If U Seek Amy" will be the third single from Circus. Which is probably a good thing, seeing as the song is awesome and all. I was kinda hoping her camp would choose to release a ballad as the third single to represent the softer, less-edgy side of the album, but I guess "If U Seek Amy" will potentially fare better, commercially-speaking.

But this is where the actual dispute lies. Even before the song is officially released, some people are already questioning the appropriateness of the song. Apparently they feel that the lyrics of the song is too blatant, too provocative, and full of direct sexual references which may not be suitable for the younger crowd in particular.

And you know what I think? Screw that.

I mean, think about it. The public thinks it's okay for Leona to bleed love, for Katy to kiss girls and like 'em, for Mariah to beg guys to touch her body and "throw her on the bed", and for Christina to refer to herself as a freaking super-bitch. Enough with the teasing and subtle eroticism. It's time to take things up a notch, don't you think? *laughs*

I know. Sorry. Couldn't help it.

Oh, by the way, hi.
*waves*

Work's been sweet. Working full-time sure is different from being a temp. No more long lunches, no more going in and out of the office as I please, no more lazing around. And I gotta admit that going corporate sure is fun, at least for the time being.
Thank heavens Dad likes to keep things casual and allows all his subs to NOT wear business suits to work. And that includes me, the newbie. Still no jeans, sure, but I decided to screw it and wear 'em anyway. Like my dad would ever notice. *wink wink*

This is what my cubicle looks like.

I have no freaking idea why the screen looks eerily reddish in color. Overexposure, perhaps. I sit near the windows, so that probably explains the overexposure part. *shrugs*

Yeah. As it turns out, I'm gonna have my Thursdays off. That partly explains why I even bother writing this post at like 10 in the morning TODAY! Yay for no work. LOL.

It's still raining cats and dogs right now, by the way. Been raining non-stop since the day before last, and if the gray skies and the sounds of thunder are any indication, I'm guessing the rain's still here to stay for a while.
I guess Mother Nature's in a pissy mood, or something. I hope Jakarta won't drown if this keeps up for another couple of days. *mind flashes back to the 2007 flood*

Alrighty. Better hop in the shower now.
I still have to make my bed, change the wood bedding in my hamsters' cage, feed the perpetually-hungry Kois, and take a shower. Oh that reminds me, I also have to look for some song lyrics and print them out for practice this arvo. Didn't I mention I have a singing gig this Friday? *winks*

So,. yeah. That's about it. *looks at watch*
I'm gonna dash at around 2 after Dad gets home. So that leaves me with, like, four hours to go?

Okie-dokie. Catch y'all later!
*grins*

...the smell of your skin lingers on me now...

2009-01-11T22:27:00.000+11:00

Currently listening to: Big Girls Don't Cry - Fergie

.whenimwithyou.
Jalan Thamrin, Jakarta, 2009

I hate that plane for taking you away.
*sobs*

A part of me is still convinced I'll see you walk through that door anytime. A part of me still wants to see you smile. To take in your captivating smell. To hear you laugh, and say my name ever so playfully.
But I know I gotta persuade my conscience to think otherwise, if only to stand this and get by. I know I will. And I'm thankful. For everything.

*insert sounds of people crying here*

Ah. Enough with the semi-masochistic talk.
This is not the time to go all sappy and mellow.

...By the way.

You know what I hate?

I hate waking up with a headache, and realizing that the air-con had been switched off while I was still frolicking across La-la-land in my sleep. Blame my ever-efficient mom for this little habit she puts into action everytime I'm around. Partly my fault for making her believe that switching off the air-con and leaving the door wide open is the most effective way to successfully force this lazy bum *points at self* out of his slumber.

I hate being thirsty in the morning. That's why most of the time I always keep an extra bottle of water in my room ready, since I really can't be bothered going downstairs just to get something to drink in the morning. Yet this morning when I woke up, there was no water around within half-asleep-scrambling distance, so I had to do the walk of shame all way downstairs.*sighs*

I hate people who type in stickycaps. You know, PpL wHo tYPe Lyk diS aLL d fReAKin9 tyMe.
No offense, but I pay too much attention to aesthetics and proper sentence construction, and reading blocks of texts that are written in such jumbled-up letters and spelling can really piss off a guy sometimes. And no, I don't hate you guys who actually type this way. I just bloody hate stickycaps. Enough said. Do you mind?

I hate being shooed away from my laptop. Hey, I don't complain about your daily morning habits, do I? So please, with all do respect, stay out of my morning routine, 'cos I know my limits and will stay the bloody hell out of yours at all times. Thank you very much.

And oh, pardon me, but I hate Indonesian novels that are written in two languages all mixed up together. As in, Indonesian novels written in both Indonesian and English, and in which Indonesian and English sentences interlace each other all the time. Add to that the fact that -- again, no offense -- some Indonesian writers just don't know how to express their ideas and English let alone write with good grammar and proficiency. As a result, awkward phrases and mistakes are everywhere. I repeat, everywhere.
Seriously, it's one thing to think that writing stories and proses in English is hip and sophisticated. I know for a fact that some people actually think that way. But it's another thing to overestimate your own abilities, go ahead with it anyway, and embarrass yourself when the actual published result is not as hip and sophisticated as you have previously imagined it would ideally be, on a commercial level nonetheless.

I'm currently reading an Indonesian novel written by a young, seemingly-talented Metropop writer, and so far I think she knows her stuff pretty darn well as far as Metropop novels go. I'm just seriously turned off by the fact that she slips English sentences in between every two or three Indonesian phrases, and that apparently her English proficiency isn't even good enough to begin with. Classic mistakes: missing plural forms, messed-up tenses, awkward phrases aplenty. Good thing her material is actually pretty sweet, so I guess I should just let this go. *raises eyebrows*

Yeah. Bottom line: I'm touchy. Get away from me.

Definitely not a good way to start off a Sunday with. I need my coffee.
*shakes head*

I don't even wanna think about the fact that I'm gonna be working all week, Monday to Friday, 8 to 5, starting tomorrow. But that's tomorrow's problem. I gotta get over this nagging feeling and cheer the fuck up.

Corporate world, here I come.

"The smell of your skin lingers on me now...
You're probably on your flight back to your home town
I need some shelter of my own protection baby
To be with myself and center,
Clarity,
Peace, serenity..."

-- Big Girls Don't Cry, Fergie

...but i'm irresponsibly mad for you...

2009-01-06T11:47:00.000+11:00

So I got tagged, by good friend and fellow blogger Elizabeth a.k.a Bebeth.

And now, after getting tagged a number of times by various people, I'm seriously starting to wonder about one thing: who exactly started all these silly tagging game thingies in the first place?

This "trend", in lack of a better word, has been floating around in the online universe for quite some time lately. Facebook, Friendster (which is no longer cool I might add), and Blogger, to name some out of many. During the past month or so, I've been tagged numerous times by people, and so far I've only complied to four of them, since at most times I really couldn't be fucked passing on the chain to other people. I mean, they're a bit fun 'n all, and I'm not complaining about getting tagged, not at all. It's just that, really, I'm dead curious about who exactly is responsible for spreading this so-called "online tagging" trend.
If anything, gimme a heads-up. *grins*

This time, I'm gonna go ahead and do this thing anyway, 'cuz Bebeth is a good friend of mine and I find this tag-game slightly interesting, so why not?

Alright. Here we go.

*****

The rules are simple.

Use Google Image to search the answers to the questions below.

Then you must choose a picture in the first page of results, and post it as your answer.

After that tag 7 People.

Okay, start from NOW!!

1. The age of my next birthday;

Can't make it any more obvious than that, ladies and gentleman.

On a sidenote, Google Image gave me utterly ridiculous results for this search. I mean, twenty eggs, the year 2020, twenty percent off, and even size 20 models? I mean, seriously. *sighs*

Moving on.

2. A place (or places) I'd like to travel to;

Whoa. Got loads of answers for this.
For the purpose of narrowing down the list, I'm just gonna include the ones I've never been to.

First: South Africa!

Second: Czech Republic, particularly Prague.

And third: Egypt.

3. A favorite place;

Again, to state the very obvious:

I tried looking for a picture of Starbucks Puri Indah on the web and since I couldn't find one I was really tempted to cheat and upload one of my personal photos for replacement but after second thoughts, no, I'm gonna play nice. *winks*

Next.

4. A favorite food;

Check this baby out, guys.

OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOMMMMM.
*stares at image, glassy-eyed*

Okay. Let's proceed before I drool all over my laptop.
*clears throat*

5. Favorite things;

Hmmmm. Tough choice.

First: my ever-reliable black iPod Nano!

Second: my Toshiba laptop.

And third: my slick, uber-cool MotoRAZR2 V9!

6. A favorite color;

Now that's what I'm talking about. Fiery red!
Sorry about the size.

7. Where I was born;

Heavenly Jakarta!

Yeah, I know. The picture is ANCIENT. It's still got the old Hotel Indonesia in there, on the right, if you've noticed. *laughs*

8. A city I've lived in;

Well, dear ol' Melbourne, of course.
I already miss this town. Can't wait to be back there!

9. A nickname I have;

This is the most decent image I could find, so shut it. *laughs*
Oh, and it's JJ, by the way. Nothing subliminal, really.

10. College major;

I'm enrolled as a student in the Faculty of Business and Economics, Monash University Clayton, doing the Bachelor of Commerce course with majors in Marketing and Behavioral Studies as well as a minor in Management.

Whew. That's a mouthful. But the actual course isn't as complicated as its name, I can assure you that. Let's just hope it's gonna lead me to a successful career in the future. Amen to that. *laughs*

11. Hobby;

I sing for life.
Enough said.

12. A bad habit;

I bite my nails on a daily basis. I bite 'em whenever I'm bored, or agitated, or nervous, or too excited. Well, basically I do that all the freaking time. And as a result, the hygiene as well as aesthetics of my nails are at stake.

And I know it's disgusting, but I can't stop.
Anybody knows how one can quit this habit? That'd be helpful.

13. Name of my love;

I don't take this too seriously, mind you.

Can I say, Michael Buble?
*laughs*

Or perhaps, Andrea Corr?

Nah. Mentioning names just isn't my thing.
I just love my family. My friends. And YOU, you know who you are.

And finally, last but not least...

14. Wishlist;

I wanna live in London, dammit!

And I really, really, REALLY wanna watch The Circus Starring: Britney Spears. I hope she visits Melbourne, soon. North America is too far away for yours truly to travel to, at least for the time being. No funds and no time being the two determining factors for my inability to do so.

...And so that's it!
The tag-game's done. Thank God. *sighs*

Rainprince, ReRe, Ndlew, Droo, K, Jeffta, and Unee... NOW'S YOUR TURN!

*insert evil laugh here*

'Till next time, peeps.

...another year has gone by...

2009-01-02T21:23:00.005+11:00

The classic countdown was done. The trumpets were blown. The crowd cheered. The fireworks were set off and colored the skies with beautiful sparks.
And, just like that, 2008 went out with a bang.

2008 was terribly fun and full of surprises. It was tough. And yes, it was certainly nothing short of eventful.
Indeed, so much has happened during the past three hundred and sixty five days.

Obama won the election. Beijing Olympics became a great success surrounded by fakes and intrigues. Leona Lewis bled love all over the music charts worldwide. The Bali bombers were finally executed. Rudd generated controversy by apologizing to the Stolen Generations. Vampires suddenly became the world's number one teenage obsession after Edward Cullen stole the show *shakes head*. Katy Perry kissed a girl and liked it. Rihanna earned herself a Grammy for a song she didn't even write and in which she barely sang. BlackBerry phones became the hottest thing in town. Britney Spears bounced back and reclaimed her pop princess throne, sorta. Bush got shoes thrown at him. Wikipedia became a reliable source for finding the answer to all life's questions. Joker finally had more news coverage than Batman for the very first time in superhero history. People flocked to YouTube and turned it into a new form of television. More recently, our favorite famewhore Paris Hilton was criticized about spending $4000 while shopping on Chapel St (yes, the one in Melbourne, peoples!). And oh, last but not least, a severe economic crisis invaded the world and scared everyone off.

If 2008 has taught us anything at all, I'd say it has definitely reminded us that the one thing that is thoroughly certain in this world is uncertainty. That chaos always coexists with order, and that no matter how established, well-regulated, and advanced a civilization structure is, destruction is always lurking in the shadow, waiting for a chance to strike. After all, it is what helps the Grand Design stay in balance. America gave us a good example of that.

So, yeah. What a year.
I think that basically covers it. *sighs*

For me personally, 2008 also witnessed some of my most personal moments worthy of remembering.

I slowly grew out of my childishness and was able to see the world from a different, more mature perspective. I saw things, I heard things, I said things, I experienced things, and I made a lesson out of them. I fell in love with Melbourne. I made amazing friends. I expressed my honesty. I lowered my guard down and found acceptance. I found my share of freedom. 2008 saw me trying to get out of my own comfort zone to strive for independence. It saw me rise. It saw me fall. And I had earned a lot from every single day that passed in 2008.

The year had been great, for me, on a personal level. It made me realize just how blessed I really was. I still am, have always been, and will always be so, too.
So, in turn, I won't ask for anything more. Everything is just right, nothing more, nothing less. I'm right where I should be. I've got everything I need. I've got freedom, happiness, and love. What more can I possibly ask for, then? *smiles*

After all, we humans may be anything, but selfless is never what we are, by nature.
If we don't start learning to be thankful for each and everything that we have, I can assure you, nothing is ever gonna be enough, for real. It has to start from ourselves first.

I'm never one to envy the pointless. I'm never gonna fall into the same loophole ever again. I've known better this time, to realize that there is much more to life than all the superficial and meaningless mumbo-jumbo the world may offer. I'm tired of being part of the crowd. I'm sick of being lost in a blur of unnamed faces. It's time to rise up, to be different, to aim high and reach for the sky. My future starts here, right here, and I ain't gonna blow it by doing anything stupid. Promise. *bows*

But hey, I'm gonna have time to be all grown-up and boring later.
In the meantime, I'm welcoming 2009 with my hands open wide. I'm excited to see what this new year is gonna bring me, and where it will lead me to. It's a year of struggle, and changes too. But we're all hardy by nature, no? I'm sure we'll all get through it just fine.

I'm up for the challenge. I'm ready for the ride. And I do hope it's gonna be a rewarding one!

Welcome 2009! =)

...i get amnesia when i'm standing next to yo-o-ou...

2008-12-30T21:14:00.001+11:00

Currently listening to: Amnesia - Britney Spears

.gotmelbourne?.
Southbank, Melbourne, Nov 8 2009

Please try to ignore the disproportionate and uneven mess that is the above image. *tugs at hair*
Gotta admit I had tried my best to at least, if at all, improve the quality of the picture just a little bit, and of course I'd try again if I wasn't already too consumed by my own sense of bitterness to continue.

Epic fail.
Let's just say that possessing incomparable photography skills isn't what The Big Guy had in mind for yours truly when He decided to create this being *points at self* out of thin air.

And speaking of Melbourne, picture-wise, that reminds me: I finally watched "Australia" today.

And let's just say that I disagree with a lot of movie critics out there, on various grounds.

Yes, the plot is draggy, even tedious and awfully boring at times. Hell yeah the movie is bloody long: I gotta tell you that enduring two hours and forty-five minutes of sitting inside a cold-as-fuck theater watching cattles get scurried here and there isn't exactly all happy and joy, obviously. Most of the romantic scenes are cheesy, typical of a major Hollywood movie. A bit too much kissing as well, if I may add. And a lot of things remain unexplained after the conclusion of the story, like what the Drover's actual name was, or what the future of Faraway Downs was going to be like, and so on.
But other than that, I can assure you, the movie is absolutely beautiful.

The scenery is just breathtaking. The dialogues are strong and meaningful. The chemistry present between the actors also adds to the movie's charm. And the strong, influential presence of a cultural background that frames the story beautifully. All in all, I think "Australia" is an amazing movie, worthy of praise and respect. After all, this is the biggest movie ever made in Australia, done by Australians, nonetheless.

And the fact that the movie brings up the issue of the Stolen Generation adds to my fascination. I coincidentally chose this issue as the topic of my major essay for BHS1712 last semester, so at least I have a decent prior understanding of the matter at hand. Watching the movie gave me an accurate and detailed depiction of the actual happenings that took place during that period of pain and frantic, when Anglo-Australians took half-White, half-Aborigine children away from their families by force and transferred them into training facilities where they would be trained as slaves and servants for the Whites. But no, I shall not get into discussing that issue. Let's just keep it all safe, PG-13, for now. *grins*

Bottom line? "Australia" is a must-watch.
Oh, and I particularly like the quote said by The Drover's Aborigine friend - I forgot who his name was - to The Drover when they were discussing about the love that The Drover had for Lady Ashley. "You don't have love in your heart, you got nothing." And that was the point when The Drover realized that he had to come back to Lady Ashley and tell her how he felt before it was too late. I found that quote specifically meaningful. *grins*

Anyway.
Enough of the crappy movie review.

The date is set. I'm flying back Down Under on February 14 first thing in the morning.
No love for me next year, I guess. Unless I find myself sitting beside a total hottie with perfect hair and innocent puppy eyes on board SQ 217 or something.
Well probably not. But a guy can only hope. *winks*

So that leaves me with about 48 days to spend here at home, but who's counting? I know I'm not. I have never enjoyed living at home this much in my entire life. Never.
When it's time, it's time. I don't wanna rush it.

But hey, come to think of it, this year really flew by in a flash. Didn't it?
In about one day and a few hours, 2008 will be history. And 2009 is already knocking on our doors, ecxited to be let in.
On a more personal level, that means I've got only two more semesters to go in uni, and in about a month's time I'm going to turn twenty! *passes out*

Wow. I'm getting old. For real.
Ah, whatever. We'll talk about this later.

'll have my slice of toast now, if you like. Hell with the no-food-after-6PM rule I singlehandedly ordered myself to obey. I need my calories.

Have a fabulous New Year's Eve, people!
Please watch your alcohol intake and try to NOT get drunk, if possible? *laughs*

You know you love me,
xoxo

*insert sounds of people throwing up on the background*

...about a grown-up christmas reflection...

2008-12-24T08:36:00.000+11:00

Currently listening to: Grown-Up Christmas List - Kelly Clarkson

.christmasinred.
Main Atrium, Mall Ciputra, Dec 19 2008

I think of Christmas as more of a season than an occasion.

A season of happiness. Of giving thanks. Of sharing the joy we have with others. A season of being grateful. A season of loving, and being loved. A season of forgiving, and being forgiven.

I know some cynics view Christmas as another commercialized holiday season, one whose hype and festivity is amplified and exaggerated as such that people can be persuaded and lured into buying presents, decorations, cards, and other Christmas-related stuff which aren't necessarily important in the first place.

And yes, I do agree that sometimes things get out of control.
Christmas big sale here, Christmas special offers there. Lookie here, come to this shopping mall and you can experience (fake) snow, though the gigantic Christmas tree is no longer there. Visit that shopping arcade and you can get a chance to go into Santa's house and take pictures with the big, fat, red-costumed, white-bearded bloke. Shop at this department store and you can win lots 'n lots of prizes! And oh, don't forget that once-iconic, now-slowly-fading shopping mall in South Jakarta that boasts its pirate-themed Christmas decorations. The list never ends.

Yes, it's true. Sometimes people get so overwhelmed with the commercial side of the season that they forget just what Christmas is all about.

In essence, Christmas is NOT about decorations, or presents, or discounts and sales and special offers whatsoever. And it's not an outright religious occasion black and white as well, at least to me personally it's not. I'm never one to emphasize the importance of rituals and formality, 'cuz I just don't think that they're as important as what's below the surface. Rituals won't have any meaning, or significance, if they're practiced and done without any form of sincerity and understanding of Christmas's true values. Instead of going all hardcore with the rituals and ceremonies, why not just stay simple, and share the happiness and joy imprinted in your hearts with others in need? That would have so much more meaning and relevance to what Christmas actually is about.

Christmas should be joyful, festive, and colorful as it is. But aside from all the festivity, it should also be used as a time to love, share, and forgive. A time to be with our most loved ones. A time to be thankful of everything we've experienced this year. A time to be aware of, and grateful for, the fact that it was on this day that our Savior was born to the world and delivered salvation for us all.

Of course, Christmas should also be used as a time to reflect on what we've all done during the past year, good or bad, and to decide what we're gonna do next. What we've done well, and what we can do to perform even better in those fields. What we haven't done correctly, and what we can do to improve them next time.

To be honest, I personally think of Christmas as a chance to be perfectly happy, full-stop. No fine print. And I've got plenty of reasons to be happy about!

To state the awfully obvious, I'm home, with my family and loved ones, so that means I'm spending this year's festive season with them! I'm a grown-up now, so I'm able to understand the real meaning of Christmas underneath it all. And most importantly of all, Christmas is the only one season in which my childishness is approved and suitably justified! *laughs* So, yeah.

After all, Christmas is the very best time of the year, without a doubt. Frills and all.
And it only comes around every twelve months, so make sure to get the best out of the season while it's still here. Shall we? *winks*

Merry Christmas, guys. Sincerely. Have a good one. =)

****

...No more lives torn apart,
That wars would never start,
And time would heal our hearts...

And everyone would have a friend,
And right would always win,
And love would never end...

This is my grown-up Christmas list,
This is my only lifelong wish,
This is my grown-up Christmas list...

...'cause the ground is breaking, i can feel it shaking...

2008-12-17T08:34:00.002+11:00

Currently listening to: Quicksand - Britney Spears

.winterwonderland.
Main Atrium, Mal Taman Anggrek, 2008

So, ladies and gentlemen, THAT *points at the two images above* is what MTA managed to pull together for its Christmas-themed decorations this year.

And I really can't say I'm impressed, honestly. 'Cuz I'm not.
I mean, seriously. Something's not right. Whatever happened to its signature giant tree, extravagant decorations, and authentic Christmas feel?
Tell me what you think. *sighs*

Anyway.

In case you're wondering, life's been good to me lately, despite the lack of a decent home Internet connection -- which is going to change in one week's time, by the way -- and the predictable strikes of boredom happening every now and then. Nothing new, really. I'm just trying to enjoy my time off as much as I can while it lasts.
I take this as some sort of a personal sabbatical, or something along those lines. And though holidays can be dull and boring at times, it's always good to know that at least I can still get the chance to take some time off and let off some steam. So, yeah. *grins*

I've also been frolicking across town visiting all the new shopping centers and trying out various new stuff. No guilt-trips now, since my time isn't limited.
Shopping? Checked. Mall-hopping? Checked. Going to the movies? Checked. Visiting Bandung? Checked. Collecting stamps for this year's Starbucks Planner? Checked, and nearly done with it as we speak *laughs*. Hanging out at Starbucks Puri? Checked, checked, checked.

And here's my list of things to do during the next fourteen days:
1. Go to Smukie's Christmas celebration this Friday;
2. Raid Glodok and Mangga Dua for DVDs and PC-Game CDs *grins*;
3. Be done with the stamps and collect my Planner, preferably at Starbucks Puri;
4. Finish tasks from Dad TODAY;
5. Wait for confirmation for broadband Internet installation, finally;
6. Visit FX! Omigod this is so long overdue. LOL.

Damn.
It's totally not my fault that I'm feeling fab at the mo'. Being lazy has never felt better.

Christmas is near!
Ah. Sweet. I want a kiss under the mistletoe. *grins*

Have a good day everybody! =)

Oh, and on a sidenote...
I just don't understand why people are, like, so obsessed with Edward Cullen a.k.a. Robert Pattinson a.k.a that pale, sharp-eyed, swooning guy from Twilight.

I mean, yeah he's good-looking and all, true. Yet after seeing an array of friends exclaiming their so-called 'Cullen addiction' in their profiles and adding 'Cullen' or 'Pattinson' as their nicknames or even surnames on Facebook and such, I'm beginning to think that this is all so overrated.
Geez. Get over it, people. Trust me, you don't wanna fall in love with a vampire. I mean, look at what happened to Bella Swan! *laughs*

No offense to all Robert Pattinson fans out there, of course.
Lates! =)

...about nothing in particular...

2008-12-06T11:10:00.001+11:00

It's been, what, ten days now? I dunno. I lost count.
My days here have been meaningless and useless. Nothing to do, nowhere to go to, with nobody to go with anyway.

I'm starting to wonder why I'm here.
Can't imagine going through another eight painful, vacant weeks like this. I really hope I won't have to. And my internship doesn't start till the beginning of next year. That gives me a full two weeks of nothingness and more nothingness. But hey, whatever. I guess I'll have to get by.

I'll write again in a day or two. My battery's dying and I'm not at home.
Somebody give me a decent Internet connection at home. Please? *sighs*

I miss Melbourne. Even more than I'd thought I would.

Lates.

PS: This year's Christmas decorations at Mall Taman Anggrek SUCKS, big time. I'm utterly disappointed. *shakes head*

...suddenly i see, what you mean to me...

2008-11-27T17:32:00.000+11:00

Currently listening to: Love is All Around - Ricki-Lee Coulter

.agreatwaytofly.
Changi Airport, Terminal 2, Nov 25 2008

The Semester 2 results are out, and I PASSED ALL FOUR UNITS!!
*jumps around*

Take that, MKC2210. You thought I was gonna go down, did you? But I didn't. And yeah, who's the winner now? *raises eyebrows*
Hahahaha. I should stop this. But I'm happy! =)
Thank you, Lord.

*kneels down and prays*

On a totally different note...

I know it’s only been three days, but I miss Melbourne already. *sighs*

Was skimming through my always-overcrowded photos archive folder just now trying to look for an accompanying image for this post, and soon enough I ended up looking at random pictures of me and my Melbourne friends doing our usual stupid and ridiculous *cough cough* stuff together.

Truth be told, I kinda miss them. I miss all the fun stuff I do in Melbourne. And I actually miss interacting with people outside my family.

Never thought I’d ever say this, but I kinda miss socializing. Really.

Ever since I got here three days ago, I’d been continuously resting, lazing around, tagging along random family members for mini-reunion sessions, and eating together with my parents. I’ve been dragged around by my parents doing a whole bunch of activities I don’t even enjoy. And I do know that they mean well by that, but after only three days back home I’m already starting to feel suppressed by their constant presence and control over what I do, or what I eat, or where I go and such.

Oh well. Just like old times. *sighs*

Sometimes I wonder why it’s very hard for them to try and accept the fact that this very guy right here *points at self* is just days away to turning twenty and thus is no longer the innocent, helpless boy they often still think he is. But hey, I supposed they’ve just been missing me. I should shut up, be touched, bar with it, and get by.

But anyway. I still love having them around. God knows how much I’ve missed my parents, especially my mom. It’s good to have her around within hugging distance. *grins* I love my mom.`=)

And I’m trying to get used to the life in the Jakartan suburbia once again, so to speak. Getting used to living at home again. Getting used to home. *smiles*

That means waking up in the morning to the sound of the noisy fruit mixer coming from downstairs. Ambling my way down the stairs to see Mom pouring bowls of various fruits into the mixing blender. Giving her a sloppy morning hug and picking up a few leftover fruits as I go. Seeing my maid, the second mom of the house, take off to the morning market near the house. Proceeding to the so-called “pet area” of the house to serve breakfast to my hamsters, paying attention to the direction of my barely-coordinated walking so as not to accidentally slip into the koi pond. Going back to sit on the living room sofa, waiting for Mom to come over and feed the kois. Drinking the fruit juice Mom just made. Then going back upstairs to wake up Dad, then laze around a bit more, or go online for a while, or do some light exercise in the home-gym, or watch TV, or take a shower. The rest of the day will fly by after this “compulsory” morning routine is all played out.

So far I’ve been a stay-at-home goodie. For all the reasons stated above, plus another one that I can't disclose right here. A very important one, that prohibits me from getting out of the house at least for a few days. But I swear I’m gonna go out tomorrow. Staying at home for too long a time can kill me. Boredom is the new cool in my current state of mind. I’ve been so bored that I even took the initiative to clean up my old bookshelf just to get busy over something. I haven’t unpacked yet, though; let me spare that for later. I’ve got plenty of time. *shrugs*

And the heat! Oh. My. Gosh. The heat is just unbearable. I’m conflicted between saving energy to fight global warming and turning on all the aircons, full-force, in my house 24/7 to escape the blistering hot weather. If only it would rain right about now. I could use a bit of a cool-off, and so could the rest of the town’s population. Oh my. Tropical weather, you certainly haven’t been missed. *fans self*

So yeah. Bottom line? I’m dying to get the hell out of the house.

I wanna raid the malls! Especially all the new ones. And I gotta start collecting the stamps for the 2009 Starbucks Planner, since I’m quite late already. Makes me feel anxious and out-of-date. This is one of those rare ocassions of me being a late adopter of anything Starbucks-related.

Whew, JJ, snobbish much? Sorry. *grins bashfully*

Too bad the socializing thingy will have to wait just a little longer.
Most of my old friends here, if not all of them, are still busy with their own uni stuff, since their holidays don’t start until at least another month or so. Christmas still feels so awfully far away here. My friends who’re back in town from overseas just aren’t available for various reasons, and I don’t wanna push them. After all, I’ve still got two months, maybe more, to spend frolicking across this town, so I guess a little extra idle time won’t hurt. *raises eyebrows*

For now, let me continue being whiny. There are some things that an overheated brain can do, but mustering an appropriate form of self-control is obviously not one of them. So please bear with me.

Oh! Guess what, I managed to persuade Dad to convert the Internet connection in our house to FastNet! No more delays and super-sucky connection, yeah! I’m so excited to try the baby out. It’s coming soon, probably tomorrow. *winks*

See you guys! =)

...about the time spent in between terminals...

2008-11-25T06:30:00.000+11:00

Hey y'all.
It's precisely 6.30 AM local time and I'm dead tired. *rubs eyes*

Here I am, sitting on a secluded couch at a corner of T2 Changi's Starbucks Coffee outlet. Yawning. Shamelessly Facebooking, and blogging, as you can see *winks*. And absently sipping on my ninth or tenth cup of coffee within the last twelve hours - I gave up counting after my fifth during the flight to ease up the guilt a little.
Now I'm on a caffeine high but who cares. Still sleepy as hell, though, and I've still got about an hour and a half until my next flight departs. So why not slack off and rest a little?

Thank heavens for Wireless@SG. *yawns*
This is why I love Singapore's amazing Changi Airport.

The seven-and-a-half-hour flight from Melbourne was fairly harmless and smooth. The food was decent, the journey was comfortable, and the new-and-improved KrisWorld was so addictive it kept me awake all throughout the flight. The landing in itself was particularly impressive, with not even the slightest amount of turbulence during the touchdown. It was as if the plane was light as a feather, or something.
Oooh. Awkward phrase. Please pretend you didn't just read that. *sighs*

I know its probably far too early to say this, but I'm missing Melbourne already. Big time. And I haven't even reached Jakarta yet.
I really don't have even the slightest idea of what my holiday in J-Town will be like. It's all still in a blur. And as inevitable as it is, I'm already finding it hard to re-adjust to the tropical climate after 11 months of enduring the four-seasons-in-a-day phenomenon that is dear ol' Melbourne. I'm sweating right now, even though I'm indoors. It's gonna take some getting used to.

And just now I checked the weather forecast for Jakarta, and it seems like a bad week, weather-wise, is expecting me. *raises eyebrows*

Oh whatever. I'm still glad I'm going home.

Gotta get going now. Still got some books to hunt before I hop on my next flight!
I'll be in touch when I'm home. Which will be anytime soon. *grins*

See you, Melbourne.
Hello Jakarta! :)

...you are the ending, beginning, of each and everyday...

2008-11-21T16:28:00.000+11:00

Currently listening to: Home - Katharine McPhee

.thespiritofchristmas.
Starbucks Bourke St, Melbourne CBD, 2008

Exactly THREE DAYS to Jakarta. Plus a couple of hours, to be precise.
Let the countdown begin, then. *sighs*

I don't know why I suddenly feel all reluctant to go home for some reason.
My luggage is lying open at one corner of my room, already half-full with goodies and other stuff, and I've finally begun to take care of my laundry little by little, but other than that, I have done exactly nothing to prepare for my leaving. At all.

*tugs at hair desperately*

I know I should just be happy that I can still go home. For at least TWO WHOLE MONTHS. I'll spend Christmas back home, with all my loved ones. I'll probably go on vacation with them too, but this is still undecided as of now. And oh, I'll also be flying home with with the amazing SIA. On board the all-new SQ218 nonetheless.
Ideally, what more can I possibly ask for?

Well, I dunno. And it's not my fault that I'm feeling all sappy about this. Hopefully I'll get excited when the time finally comes. Can't wait for Monday night! *grins*

There are some exciting things to look forward to when I'm in J-Town, anyway.
Firstly, I'm really curious about how this year's Christmas decorations at Taman Anggrek Mall will look like. Whoever is behind this decoration thingy must be racking his or her brain right about now trying to come up with an idea to top last year's design:

And this is exactly why I love spending Christmas in J-Town. Dreamy, enchanting.
Can't wait to see what they're gonna do this year.

I'm also gonna go and visit all the new malls in town.
I'm gonna raid ZARA and shop till I drop, so to speak.
I'll make sure that I eat all my favorite dishes for Christmas. *grins*

And of course, I'll definitely start collecting stamps for the super-irresistible 2009 Starbucks Planner straight away!
Omigosh. Exciting, much?

...Oh well. I guess going back home's not that bad after all.
Though the packing part is such a stubborn pain in the ass.

*stares at luggage and stacks of laundry hopelessly*

So now I have three more sleeps to go, as Karin would put in.
Damn. I miss my Melbourne friends who are already back in their respective hometowns. And I'm gonna miss the ones who'll still be here for Summer.

Alrighty. Better get back to tidying up.
Catch y'guys later! =)

PS: A warm welcome goes out to Jeffta for recently joining the blogosphere! Check out his page by clicking HERE, if you like. He's an amusing person by nature and hopefully his blogposts will be equally interesting to read. Welcome! *grins*

...lollipop, must mistake me for a sucker...

2008-11-15T17:48:00.003+11:00

.that'smelbourne!.
Southbank, 2008

I find it amusing when people mistake me for an American.

Yeah, shocking, I know. *raises eyebrows*
Figuring out where I’m from should be a no-brainer, yeah? Slanty eyes, brown skin, fobbish hair; full-on Asian, much?
But apparently the strangers that happen to cross paths with yours truly every now and then just don’t seem to agree.

The thing is, this didn’t happen to me once. Or twice. Or even a couple of times at the most. I’m not sure if it’s just pure coincidence, but this is starting to become a regular occurrence for me, even more so lately. Everywhere I go, this baseless assumption regarding my country of origin always seems to follow suit. And as much as I want to feel flattered about it, it also makes me feel patronized, for some reason.

It all started a couple years ago when I was on holiday in Hawaii. I was about fourteen at the time, and my family and I went to Hawaii to start off our Christmas vacation that year. FYI, I’ve got an aunt (who’s a Chinese Indonesian through and through, by the way) who lives in Hawaii, and her European husband was the very first person to point out that I sounded like an American (a Californian, to be exact), when I speak in English. He thought so because I talked fast and used a lot of “like”s and “so”s and “yeah”s in my sentences.

At that time, I just laughed it off, thinking that he was just saying that to compliment me or something. The topic was simply dismissed. Up to that point I had never thought about how my English had sounded like, and what accent I had adopted into my lingo. But since then, the more fluent I become in speaking and writing in English, and the more frequently I use it to communicate, the more people seem to doubt my fobbishness and assume that I’m an American of some sort. *shrugs*

Moving to Australia does nothing to make the mis-assumptions stop. If anything, it only becomes worse.
And it’s probably because the Aussies get confused when they hear me speaking, or something. They probably think, Omigosh, how can an Asian guy who looks like a fob and wasn’t born Down Under speak fluent English with an American accent?

You see, Australians (esp. Melburnians in this case) have their own stereotypical perception regarding overseas-born Asians here. Aussies view fob Asians as eccentric, unlikeable, cheap, and having very limited English proficiency. And hey, I really can’t blame them for thinking that way, since most fobs that I see and interact with everyday seem to live up to the stereotype. But I’m a fob too, technically. I wasn’t born in a Western country, English is not my first language, and I was raised as a true Asian, so to speak. I just happen to be a little bit different from the rest of the crowd, no pun intended. So when Aussies talk to me, they get confused. Yeah? *shrugs*

Take yesterday as an example.

This happened inside one clothing outlet in Melbourne Central. I was just about to pay for the items that I wanted to buy at the counter, and this very friendly Aussie girl was helping me with those items. Knowing that Australians tend to be chatty, it came as no surprise when soon enough she started a conversation with me. So she asked me where I’d been, what I’d bought, when my exam had ended, stuff like that, and I politely responded to her questions, playing along. Then she asked me about my plans for Summer, and I told her that I’d be flying home for Christmas. Upon hearing that, she was like, “Oh, bummer! It’s gonna be cold up there in the States, isn’t it?” and I was like, oh geez, here we go again. *laughs*

As expected, of course, I had to go through the pain of explaining to her that I wasn’t from the States, and that she wasn’t the first person to have thought of that, yadda yadda yadda. The highlight of the conversation happened when, after I told her I was actually from Jakarta, she yelled out “No effin’ way!” and started laughing.

Thank God she didn’t ask me questions about Obama and the US elections. Now that would’ve been awkward. *grins*

I can go all day telling you guys stories related to this issue. My tutor thought I was American once and asked me about "The Star-Spangled Banner". A barista in my favorite coffee shop asked me about how I celebrate Thanksgiving *winces*. Random waiters in Western restaurants doubt my Asian-ness all the time when I order my food. And even my favorite hairdresser’s new assistant insisted that I was shamelessly lying to her when I told her I was an Indonesian.

Funny, huh?
I’ll just leave you guys at that. Hahaha.

And FYI, now I don’t really bother using my American accent when speaking to my Asian friends anymore. I try to be as subtle and as ordinary as possible when I talk to them. It’s much easier that way, enabling me to, like, “blend in” with the crowd. It gets hard to do sometimes, but I’ll get by.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean to brag or anything, really. And I’m not trying to renounce my Indonesian-ness or something, not at all. I just needed to get this off my chest. So please bear with me.

Should I play along next time this happens? *grins*

I’m a fob. I’m not from the States. Deal with it. people.
But thanks heaps for the “compliment”. :)