bells

and you wouldn't know which part of me was actually real, for it's all heavily edited.

[heavily-edited]

So, it's another year

What I intend this blog to be is a journal. A Void I can talk to. But it's too hard of a commitment, eh?

Why today's log then? Well, yesterday I watched Retour à Séoul. There's one quote that upon hearing it, I feel like being punched in the gut.

"I could wipe you from my life with a snap of my fingers,"

I do think the same when it comes to people. This thought has always been lingering on my mind, camping at the back of my throat all the time. I part ways with people way, way too easily. So why does hearing this make my heart ache? I do the same thing to other people, anyway. So why? Was it because it was said out loud?

I just feel so sad.

Suddenly I want to apologize to random people from the past. Friends that I lost contact with. People that I don't speak to, for whatever reason I feel acceptable at that time.

But, instead of reaching out, I guess I can just log in to this journal. This Void I can talk to.

As usual, my writings are more like a chatter rather than a think-piece. I hope when I read this again in the next log, it won't be a head scratch. I just want to remember this sad feeling, and hoping I can muster up the courage to act upon this sadness.

And even if I don't, I hope I can still count on you, Void.

[heavily-edited]

It’s 2023!

i don’t know what brings me here today, but i just feel like logging in to my blog.

i made this blog on 2020 out of boredom. purely out of boredom. i don’t even know that the world was going downhill at the time. i think.. something really actually shifted and led me to open this space. i’m glad i did!

 at the beginning of the pandemic, i use this space as a coping mechanism. i mean, i don’t really write much. just a couple pieces that i feel like to share so it doesn’t cocoon inside me.

it was relieving, i have to say.

i made this blog on 2020 out of loneliness. purely because i’m not much of a talker. like... i don’t mind if someone stumble upon this blog and read my mind, i truly do. i’d be glad actually!

at the beginning of the pandemic, i started to write more than i ever was. i wrote on this blog, on my journal, scribbles between sentences on the book i read, everywhere i can. it was calming, i have to say.

three years later, today, i read what i wrote.

a part of me were too stunned to feel the nostalgia rushed in. another part was in denial that i wrote what i wrote. but there’s a part of me that smiles while scrolling through the pages. this part is also the one who wants to write this post for it wants to leave a footprint—a remark, that wants to say that “i’m so happy that you’re still here today”

there are a lot of things happened in the course of three years. i would write about it later.

there’s no promise though. you just have to wait and be there.

[souledouttarot]

Forgive yourself for what you did in survival mode

[heavily-edited]

[cinemaisgay]

Hugs in Film

[heavily-edited]

About today and with everything that's going on I'm hoping I can find what's true within myself I hope my heart will always be forgiving to those who may hurt it whether on purpose or not I hope I my intentions are clear I hope people don't question my kindness or when I try to be kind I hope I always progress to be better everyday even if I have to take a step back or two I hope the ground that I'm standing on is steady enough for me to stand upon so I won't fall I hope I can forgive myself I hope I have choices to be who I want to be I hope those who forget me and let me go for good lead a great life and I hope I would too I hope I never have to doubt my worth I hope those who question mine would help me to figure it out together I hope people who hurt me find their way to get back to me and apologize because sometimes I got hurt too and it's okay to seek a closure I hope I have enough strength to tell people how I feel I hope I am not scared to express my feelings I hope every pain that I felt or might feel in the future is more bearable I hope I can forget things easier I hope I take full control of my life I hope it's easier to let things go and so for everything that's been holding me down I hope this farewell ends well for us

[heavily-edited]

It's (almost) Good Riddance

Last night I was awaken around midnight with an eerie feeling. It was like a rush of intense nostalgia. Maybe I just miss social interactions. Or was it anxiety?

Just like anyone else, this quarantine makes me feel more lonely than ever. But let me be selfish for a second to talk about stuffs that had been on my mind for sometime now. In the beginning of April, all of my friends had planned their trip home due to the outbreak. By the end of the month, everyone had left. And by everyone, i mean it as in all my college friends, my dorm neighbors, even the whole neighborhood. I am, however, still here.

Currently I'm living in a city thousand kilometers away from home, for college. I was supposed to graduate this very semester, and I had planned everything to finish my thesis before Ramadan (which is right now, by the way). Have I graduated? Well no. Then the outbreak happened. When my friend's Seminar Proposal was cancelled and replaced with online seminar, I swear had the thought of going home immediately. "Maybe if I pack up my stuffs right now, I can leave and finish everything there," had I thought. But the more I think about going home, the more anxious I get. There are several reasons why:

My home is not a healthy environment for me to do my thesis. I can barely breathe when my parents left the house for work, so I can only imagine how it'll be like when we're stuck together 24/7. It's just not a choice.

I have a very little personal space there, and at a time like this, a personal and safe space is very much needed for my mental well-being.

I haven't prepared to leave my dorm, and packing takes quite a long time. If I had left then, I still have to go back here to finish moving out. That will absolutely cost more money, and hell no. I had spent enough my parents' money.

They didn't even care enough or want me back there anyway (or I assume, but most likely true).

After all considerations, I decided to stay put. It was going well, it really was. I'm not a very outdoor person anyway. Everyday was sorta feels normal, even. Alone in my room, I binged old episodes of Bon Appétit Test Kitchen. I listened to albums that I always wanted to listen before. I ordered pesenkopi for three days straight. I got ghosted by my thesis supervisor. You know, all the things other people do to deal with this quarantine. Then, about two weeks ago, I booked a flight to Bandung. It was very spontaneous. I called my mom the night before, telling her I wanted to come home. I ran her the details, say my reasons (not that they care anyway in the first place), then my mind was set: I am ready to go home.

When I decided to go home, it was more like I decide to finally leave Malang. I meant it. Like, I don't ever wanna go back to this city for academic business. Enough of Malang, this phase of my life is over. I had my time grieving about wanting a closure, for I LOVE a good farewell. But whatever, I'm living in a pandemic for fuck sake! Like literal global phenomenon. People will talk and write about this event like the scarlet fever on Litte Women (RIP Beth March). There's no time to think about good riddance and goodbye. So I started to pack up my stuffs. Bought a cardboard box to send some of them through the mail. All of that, you know. My drawer is almost empty by now. But the drama had just started.

It was Thursday night when I heard the government issued a travel ban (or is it? is it the right term?). Anyway, it means that all commercial flights are cancelled from April 24 until June. My flight was on April 27. I was livid. Like seriously, just now? I mean I totally agree with the decision. I don't wanna sound like an uninformed brat who doesn't understand the current situation, I just wished they had planned this way earlier. I was frustrated because I am who I am, you know. If you knew me you know how much I get intensely overwhelmed when things doesn't go as I planned. Totally frantic. Once again I feel like I lost control of my life, and I don't like it.

But it's all alright now. I calmed down, found the grip of reality again. I feel like I already mastered the art of 'fake it til you make it' coping mechanism. It's all inevitable, and as I keep telling myself, I am actually living in a middle of serious pandemic. More things won't make any sense in the future, and this was only my rehearsal. I am still leaving this room on Monday, though. For now, I am gonna stay with my relatives until God knows when. It has to be done and then I will have my goodbye with this room, the one I refer to as a safe haven for four years. I've never had such freedom before moving here. And for this, I am truly grateful.

Be good, everyone. Keep yourself sane. All is well.

[heavily-edited]

A Birthday Piece

When I was a kid I was obsessed with the color yellow. I'd ask my mom to buy clothes in that color only, stationaries and other paraphernalia too. I'd draw a house and color it yellow–a nice contrast over the green mountain and blue sky. I know you get the picture. That was before I found the specific shade of green that I really like when my mother took me out to buy a new bag. It was a pale-green color and there was a picture of yellow lemons with glitters. There was some writing too but I can't remember what was written on it. Anyway, I really liked the bag and asked my mother to washed it every weekend to keep the color remain the same. Little did I know, it only done damage and the color washed out after couple of months.

I went through many other phases with colors. At one point, I was into black. I liked how the color suited me and how my outfit would turned out nice because it was in one color. My family didn't grow up with a lot of money either, so to buy clothes in many colors to mix-and-match wasn't the option. I've also been through pink phase. I think it's because a lot of my friends wore a hell lot of pink. Then there was white, and blue, and back to green. Nothing in order but the phase continues. I was so proud to claim I liked all colors there ever was on rainbow. Most kids only had one favorite I suppose.

I am twenty-two now and I just realized I've never been on red phase. I feel like everyone I knew had been on a red phase. Not the maroon type of red, but you know, just red. Thinking about it, I only liked a color if I had some memories with it. It's always the memory first, then the obsession. For whatever reason, something about red makes me feel iffy. I should have remembered why, but I can't put my finger on it. It's frustrating me because I thought I've been through it all. Skipping one color on the spectrum feels so wrong to me. To remember certain details of the colors you love and none at all of this one. But again, can't put my finger on it. Not after I dig deep into my memories. Not even after I trace the surface of my skin. Not after I go even deeper.

[heavily-edited]

#TurJawaHindia – (08/02/20)

I went to Hindia's concert last week on Saturday. Since 'Menari Dengan Bayangan' album was released, I've been dreading to see the live version of it. I was bummed when I couldn't attend Perayaan Bayangan. So, when he announced the tour I was so thrilled. Especially because Malang was included, even became the first city they played at. Despite the large venue, the tickets were (VERY) limited. Without the visual backdrop, the concert felt even more intimate. I was standing front row so the lighting were extremely blinding, but I'm sure it must be looked great from the back. One thing that I loved the most is how laid-back the overall atmosphere were, just like his persona. The concert brought a warm feeling, it felt like I was watching a friend performed.

This video is a choppy and blurry recap from the concert. The quality wasn't the greatest, so I edited it with B&W filter and I think it looked so much better–and even cooler. I didn't include the opening acts, but they're all great! Madu Kina opened the set with Frank Ocean's Thinkin Bout You, so it's a win for me. Aldrian Risjad was amazing. He sounds so great live. I don't know which God he pray to for that voice...but I would love to know.

Keep in mind that I am not a concert go-er, so I have nothing to compare this experience with. All I can say is, going to this concert was the best decision I've made so far and this will be one of the greatest memory I've made this year.

[astr0freak-blog]

Water signs as types of water

Cancer - Stream. The fresh water that trickles along the dent in the land. She offers water to the thirsty animals and humans. She offers survival. She lets you feel her most gentle touch, a liquid breeze. She offers pebbles to the bored, clean water to heal wounds and wash. She offers fish for food, a pretty and gentle sound as you traverse the land around her. If you listen carefully, she’s whispering to you the way to go. If you travel towards her core, you’ll find she’s deeper than anticipated, larger and stronger than you thought. She’s more dangerous than she will ever let you think, and feels more than you might see. 

Scorpio - Marianas Trench. The deepest body of water. He hides the creatures of the dark, untouchable to the human race. You can’t touch his soul, for it’s compressed beneath tons of fluid. He will not let it show. He will not let you touch it. It belongs at the bottom where only his most beloved creatures can reach it. He is mysterious, a fascination. You only know what he lets you see, what he lets you feel. He stings your wounds, heals you, is inside your blood without your knowledge. He sees the deepest parts of you, but will never let you deep enough to see his.

Pisces - Pacific Ocean. The largest ocean. She sees every boat that has come and that will come. She makes every wave, feels the splashes of children’s feet on her shorelines. She is friends with all the creatures of the deep, brushes the ocean floor so gently, creating places for her mermaids to hide. She licks your wounds with her salty potion. With all she has learned, all that she feels, she is dangerous. Do not cross her body before understanding and caution. She is beautiful, but she demands the respect as the oldest soul on earth.

water / earth / fire / air

[sexhaver]

that Brian Eno quote about how whatever you find most repulsive about a medium (film grain, record scratches/fuzz, CDs skipping) will be the first thing you try and emulate once that medium is obsolete because it's "the sign of a moment too powerful for the medium assigned to contain it".... man.......

[funkylilpunk]

“Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.” -Brian Eno

[heavily-edited]

I had a dream last night.

Or I think I had. I'm not sure whether it was a dream or just a vivid memory that passed by. It was not particularly about me or even anything at all for all I remember.

I'm on my high school uniform. I remember it like the back of my hand–on God I wore the same shit for three years. I remember the wrinkled end of my skirt decorated with faded pigment paint and pen stains. The washed out grey color. The way the skirt falls right on my ankle, covering half-seen part of my white socks. I walk on an empty complex street near my school. Unclear destination, but I'm going There. I look up to the sky. It isn't grey, yet I can sense the rain is coming. I pace up in hope to get There faster before the rain starts to pour. I hate the rain and how it makes the fabric of my skirt become stiff and heavier. I hear thunder rumble from faraway. I speed up anxiously. At this point I swear I'm as close as running. The skirt swings over my legs and left a little tingle on my calves, like burns. I feel the burns spread to my heels, to my thighs, to my lungs. My skin should be burned anytime by then, but the thought of running all drenched in keeps me going.

I don't know where is this story going because the dream ends there. But if I had stayed in the dream a little longer, I would tell myself to slow down. Maybe the rain would ease the burn anyway.

[heavily-edited]

Toko Oen Malang — (20/11/19)

I went there for an assignment. The place was quite empty when I arrived. There were old couple in front of me, sitting side by side, eyes locked on their hands. The husband was reading off a newspaper—The Jakarta Post, that provided there. The wife was busy calling someone, who I assumed have to be their friend who's on the way here. Their lonely one cup of ice cream slowly melted, ignored.