my complicatedly simple thoughts

I dream of publishing my novels.

I dream of joining Indonesia Mengajar after my bachelor degree, teaching in rural areas for a year.

I dream of going to New York to pursue my master degree in Journalism, then writing for the best local paper around: the New York Times.

I dream of living in The Marc Building New York just so I could wake up to the amazing view of Central Park every morning.

I dream of spending a day in The Central Park, just me, myself, and the goldish autumn leaves.

I dream of being married to my bestfriend, the guy I could trust and the guy I could always find my comfort in. We’ll take our kidsa for a stroll around Central Park, eat more than one hot-dogs and feeding the squirrels and have fun.

…I dream of doing those things with you :)

…After all this time, you still make me fall in love with you, over and over again. Even when you told me to do things I don’t like. Even when you talk nonsense. Even when you’re so random. Even when you’re being annoying. I fall in love with you all over again. It keeps adding up each day that I don’t know where to put it :))

I’m freaked out by the fact that I love watching crime series. By ‘love’ I mean I really could sit all day watching TV, flipping only between either AXN or Fox Crime.

It’s funny how I used to HATE these crime series. I thought they were horrible, and each time I caught the forensics doing something to the dead bodies I’d pray so hard so it won’t get stuck in my head for days. I don’t really remember how or when I first fell for crime series, all I know was I suddenly could stand the view of bloody skulls, rotten dead bodies or even blood dripping all over the floor after the victim is shot/being stabbed. 

The first crime series that made me fall into this horrible yet addictive fandom was CSI: Miami. It’s still my current favorite CSI up until now… the 2nd goes to CSI: NY because they have the gorgeous Don Flack on board. Oh, and also the charismatic Mac Taylor!!! I’m so glad CSI: Miami put Eddie Cibrian back on board because Lt. Wolfe a.k.a Jonathan Togo is getting fatter and less-cuter and I’ve never liked Eric Delko anyway so yeah, it’s been good seeing a cute new face on my most favorite CSI installment, woohoo!

I feel like a freak. I mean, DUDE, I’M A GIRL AND I FREAKIN LOVE CRIME SERIES.

It affects how I look on things too.

Seriously, loving crime series change my life waaay much than I expected.

I don’t know what made me crawled under the bookshelf and took my childhood album with me last night.

I thought about how it’d be great to archive them on the computer, because I felt like the album’s not going to be around any longer (I don’t know why I sometimes got this paranoid instinct, which eventually turned out true). 

I took the time to look at my child-self before I scanned the pictures.

As the pages turned, I was smiling the whole time. I looked so happy and beautiful and all-smiles… and those pictures remind me of how young my parents were back then. They’re old now, which also means I probably have no time left with them.

I’ve just done scanning for today.

I looked at the scanned pictures, and I nearly cried.

Where’s my happy-self now? And where do those times fly? I want them back.

I want my childhood back.

I want my talkative Dad back. Lately he’s been quiet because he has too many problems running on his mind. I don’t blame him — I never did. I know we — especially me — have been such a burden to him. I know how hard he’s trying to keep this family strong and I’m forever grateful for his efforts. It’s just that as I grow up, there’s always this wall between us — no matter how hard Dad or me trying to get over, the wall is always there. It prevents me from caring for Dad, it prevents Dad from understanding his own daughter.

Me and Dad were so much easier back then. Dad would take me on his shoulders, we’d walk around the Witana Harja estate and Dad would tell me things about the trees, the sky, and sometimes the neighbors around us. The houses we both like, my dreams, his hopes, everything. I think it’s ironic on how things were easier to talked to when I was younger and still couldn’t think properly while currently when I’m able to think properly, we don’t talk as much as we did back then.

I want my happy-go-lucky Mom back. She still is, right now, but there are things bothered her that she wasn’t as happy as she were back then. I want her old-self back. I’d do anything for her to get back to her old-self, but I think it’d be useless. Things got complicated as I grow up, as we all grow old and tired. I’m thankful I connect better with Mom these days. I connect better with Mom in my teenage years, and though we fight each other often, we’d end up being stronger than we did before. Now Mom is pretty much my bestfriend — and I’m thankful for that. 

…and about me and Dhani, well… we’ve never been close with each other anyway. She’s my sister, but she’s a whole lot more different than me — too different that it makes us distant. I remember some pictures of me and her together — I remember I was being forced to be photographed with her just because I couldn’t stand her, lol. For my child-self, Dhani has always been too noisy and she moved around a lot while I’ve always been that calm, unmoved girl who rather curl up with a good book rather than being asked to play with her noisy little sister.

…but despite of how I’ve always wanted my childhood back, I’m grateful for what I live, have, and love right now. Me and my family have gone a lot, and we probably broke down a few times, and we ARE probably breaking down right now, but things would get better. They always will. And when things are finally getting better, we’ll be stronger than ever. I’ll grow up carrying all my parents’ prayers, love, and supports… and I’ll provide them back. I’ll provide a living for them, for my sisters… to show them I’m grateful for having a family like them.

My family isn’t perfect but we fit each other very well :)

I love late-nights. Call me cliche but it’s the 2nd thing I love after the rain :P

Late-nights are just perfect for people like me. People who prefer to be let alone, drowning deeply in their thoughts, their minds buzzing with random things about (and probably beyond) the universe…

People who are truly loners at heart. People who are surrounded by crowds all day long without having the permission to escape from that uneasy situation. People who found their peace in silence.

People who can finally cry because no one is looking.
People who invent things. People who write words for their living.

Late nights are for those people. For us.

If you haven’t noticed it yet, ideas, inspirations — or whatever you call them — tend to flow faster and clearer during late-nights. Oh, it’s prolly because our minds could think without having to be interfered with other people’s spoken minds. That’s true, but I think the true reason behind that fact is because…

…God bless those people. God bless us, the late-nights owners :)

Something is going to happen to me soon.
…As much as I don’t want it to happen, I feel like it’s the only solution to this current depressing situation. I feel like everyone could be much happier with the decision, I feel like we’re better off apart because we’re no longer there for each other anymore.

It breaks my heart that I couldn’t do anything to prevent it from happening, mostly because half of me thinks it’s eventually a good decision, but some is because I realize that my life isn’t like Hallmark dramas: I couldn’t just go asking for help and the problem’s gone and we all could live happily ever after.

Sometimes being hurt leads up to a good thing. If this thing is going to happen to me, please remind me that sentence.

P.S.: Whatever happens, I’d still love you, weird, dysfunctional people! My definition of ‘conditional love’ would be you guys :’)

…Is the fact that being used to to something could be hurt. I’m used to talk to you every night, finding daily comfort in every line we said to each other that when I didn’t, I feel so weak. And insecure. And every bad feelings in the world, just mention them.

You’re annoying, you’re everything I hate on a guy. You could never meet my expecations because I’m not allowed to expect anything from you. You’re not the kind of guy I’ve always dreamed of: you didn’t plan a surprise party for me or gave me the sweetest birthday present, hell… You didn’t even reply most of my texts. …And thus, I still love you. I feel like there are still reasons to do so, no matter what. So tell me, Einstein… What’s the best formula to describe this kind of complicatedly irrational theory? :)

I have to capitalized the “won’t” part because apparently there’s this guy who doesn’t even have enough brain cells to understand that most girls don’t like being tweeted that way.

Guys, don’t call yourself a gentleman if you use ‘fuck’, ‘bitch’, or any kind of filthy words when you’re talking/tweeting to girls. No matter how ‘kidding’ you are, that just won’t impress us and most likely will offend us (though they might not refer to us).

And yes, you’re either a jerk or a stupid guy if you did. Tonight I met that kind of guy and for him I make an exception: he’s both; jerk and stupid :P

We argued about one thing but he used those filthy words and that just annoyed me. He could explain what he meant without having to tweet ‘fuck’ and ‘bitch’ in one sentence AND with caps, right?

The point is, tweeting those filthy words will only make you uncool and seemingly uneducated, period.

…But since nothing is forever, I think I don’t have any choice but to keep hoping… Yes, at nothing :’)

Tak ada yang lebih tabah dari hujan bulan Juni
dirahasiakannya rintik rindunya kepada pohon berbunga itu

Tak ada yang lebih bijak dari hujan bulan Juni
dihapusnya jejak-jejak kakinya yang ragu-ragu di jalan itu

Tak ada yang lebih arif dari hujan bulan Juni
dibiarkannya yang tak terucapkan diserap akar pohon bunga itu

Saya masih duduk di bangku SD ketika pertama kali membaca puisi sederhana ini di sebuah buku kumal terbitan Balai Pustaka yang ‘nyasar’ di perpustakaan sekolah. Kata-katanya yang sederhana namun memikat itu membuat saya seringkali mencari buku itu setiap mampir ke perpustakaan, hanya untuk sekilas membaca ulang larik-larik puisi tersebut.

Ketika akhirnya saya lulus dari SD, saya sudah melupakan puisi tersebut ketika akhirnya bertemu kembali saat saya duduk di kelas 2 SMP. Puisi itu tercetak manis dalam buku paket Bahasa Indonesia saya. Rasanya seperti menemukan kembali kepingan masa kecil yang tercecer. Apalagi karena saat itu otak saya sudah mulai bisa mencerna puisi, saya pun makin terpikat pada kesederhanaan yang ditawarkan dalam puisi tersebut. Saya tak habis pikir bagaimana puisi sesederhana itu bisa begitu magis dan membuat saya selalu jatuh cinta setiap kali membacanya.

Saya jatuh cinta berulangkali,
Pada ‘Hujan Bulan Juni’ :)

It’s just a simple thing to do, really. In this century where technology becomes your best friend, it won’t be too hard to just tell me you’re landed safely or anything. …but I guess this is all my fault. I know I shouldn’t expect anything from you and yet I still do. Pardon my stupidity, it won’t happen next time.

I think it’s sweet to spend a sunny day with your spouse out in the park, reading a book in silent; side by side, or hearing your spouse talks about random things and  enjoying its comfy atmosphere while having your loved one by your side to top it off ♥