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

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