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Everything I Need in Life, I Learned From a 7-Eleven at 2AM

There is a particular kind of person you become in Taiwan after enough months here: someone who no longer finds it strange to pay their electricity bill, buy a hard-boiled egg that has been marinating in tea since roughly the Ming Dynasty, and pick up a parcel from Shopee, all in one visit to a store the size of my dorm room. I did not choose this life. It chose me, somewhere around my six month of grad school, standing in front of a 7-Eleven at 2AM because I needed to print a cheat sheet for my exam.

I printed the sheet. I also bought a coffee I did not need and a rice ball I definitely did not need, because that is the whole trick, and I fell for it completely.

One thing about convenience stores in Taiwan that took me an embarrassingly long time to notice: they are not stores. Not really. They are the closest thing this island has to a nervous system : small, glowing, open 24 hours, and quietly wired into everything from your electricity bill to your grief-induced 1am ice cream run. And the strange part is that this didn't happen by accident. It took about forty years, several humiliating failures, and one very stubborn insistence on selling tea eggs against the direct wishes of the American head office.

Act One: nobody wanted this

7-Eleven arrived in Taiwan in 1979. It lost money for roughly seven straight years. Taiwanese people had wet markets. They had the little family-run shop on the corner that had been there since before anyone's parents were born. Why would they want a sterile, American-style convenience store selling packaged bread to a culture that considers freshly cooked food a basic human right?

They wouldn't. And they didn't for a while.

The turnaround, as far as I can tell, came from someone locally deciding to just ignore the people paying his salary. Management wanted tea eggs on the menu, and well the American side reportedly objected, worried it would "ruin the brand image," presumably imagining tourists recoiling at the smell. The local team did it anyway. The eggs became a bestseller. Air conditioning went in. Hours went to 24/7. And somewhere in there, the convenience store quietly rebranded itself from "foreign retail experiment" to "extension of a living room" which is a place you go not because you need something specific, but because it is there, it is cold in summer, and someone will microwave your dumplings without a side eye.

I find this extremely funny, honestly. An entire national institution, built on the graves of an executive who thought hard boiled eggs were a branding risk.

Act Two: the store becomes a government office nobody asked for

By the 2000s, something else happened, and this is the part that genuinely impresses me. The stores installed little digital kiosks called ibon, if you've ever used one. And suddenly you could pay your parking fine, your water bill, your insurance premium, and buy tickets to a concert or the high-speed rail, all from a machine sandwiched between the Slurpee station and a rack of gossip magazines.

Nobody was making real money off a parking fine payment. That's not the point. The point is that you came in to pay the fine, and on your way out, you bought a coffee. Multiply that by several million people paying several million fines, and you have, without anyone using the word "platform" out loud, built one.

Act Three: the store solves a problem nobody else wanted to touch

Then e-commerce showed up in the 2010s like Shopee, Momo, all of it. And here's a detail I love: a huge number of apartment buildings in dense cities like Taipei don't have a doorman. Couriers can't get in. Nobody's home during the day anyway. So the convenience store just... became the answer. Order online, pick a store as your delivery point, collect it whenever, pay cash at the counter if you want. They dont declare "we are now a logistics company." It just became one, lol.

Act Four: now it just knows you

Which brings us to now : OPEN POINT, the FamilyMart app, tens of millions of users each, a number that starts to look less like "loyalty program" and more like "a meaningful percentage of the entire population is logged into this thing." You can buy fifty cups of coffee on sale and redeem them one at a time, at any branch, whenever you want, via QR code. The app knows what you buy, predicts what the store should stock, and this is the part that quietly unsettles me a little : they "sells" your shopping patterns as advertising real estate to brands that want your attention while you're standing in line for a rice ball.

I don't think this is sinister, exactly. I think it's just what forty years of "let's make this five minutes more convenient" eventually adds up to, if you keep doing it uninterrupted and nobody stops you. The store didn't set out to become a data company. It set out to sell you a tea egg. The data company part was just... compound interest.

Anyway. I got curious enough about all of this that I ended up writing an actual, fully-cited, more-boring-than-this academic version, complete with a comparison table between 7Eleven and FamilyMart and a section on multi-sided platform theory. If you're the kind of person who reads footnotes for fun well here ya go [i'm gonna update the link later].

[satpad]

Secondhand Smoke

Here’s where she left me

Here’s where i learned to flinch

We were so careful with each other’s broken part

who knows where all the cracks are

and says nothing,

touches nothing,

just —

sits nearby.

Then one night the lights were different

and the music had an agenda

and something shifted two degrees

and I—

well.

You didn’t move away.

That’s the thing that keeps me up.

Not what happened.

That you didn’t move away.

Now we stand outside again,

cigarette between your fingers,

smoke going wherever wind decides,

and you let me lean into you

like always,

like nothing,

like everything is exactly

what it was before,

except I’ve seen the inside of a question now

and I can’t unknow its shape.

And I’ve started to think

that some people know exactly

what they’re doing

when they do nothing at all.

[satpad]

Opportunity Cost: On the Lives I Chose Not to Live

In every choice we make, there is always another life we let die.

I don't remember exactly when I first learned about opportunity cost. Somewhere in high school, probably. What I do remember is that when the concept was taught, it felt like someone else's business. The kind of thing relevant to big decisions, the ones still far away and still very abstract.

Turns out you don't need an economics class to understand it. If you live long enough, it will come and explain itself. This is my story, and a few of the lives I've let go.

First one : going abroad for my master's degree.

The decision felt right. Still does, even now. But the opportunity cost was never recorded anywhere except in my own chest.

My mother's face. the first time I came home after months away, looking slightly different, slightly smaller than I remembered. Nothing dramatic. Just something subtle, and painful precisely because of that subtlety. A change I should have witnessed slowly, in real time, instead of finding all at once like opening a chapter I'd missed.

The laughter of old friends, now heard only through Instagram Stories, with a delay that doesn't quite feel like a real delay, and jokes that arrive slightly out of breath from the distance between their mouths and my ears.

I don't regret leaving. But I can't pretend nothing was lost. And somehow, uncomfortable as it is, those two things can occupy the same chest. I think leaving is the easy part. What's hard is everything that keeps happening in the place you left behind.

Then there was Jakarta.

Everyone goes to Jakarta. It's practically a law of nature for anyone with ambition and a KTP from outside Java. Jakarta is the answer, they say. Jakarta is the place. And for a stretch of time, I almost believed them, but I didn't go.

Not because I wasn't brave enough, or because there was no opportunity. But because I know myself. I know that I am someone whose peace of mind depends heavily on whether she can see a sky that isn't cut off by buildings, on whether she can walk somewhere without feeling like she's competing with everyone on the same sidewalk.

The opportunity cost is a career that might have moved faster. A network that might have stretched wider. A version of me that might have been more ambitious, more visible, more — something. I don't know exactly, because I didn't go there to find out.

What I do know is that I chose a quieter city. And in that silence, something inside me stayed intact. Something that probably wouldn't have survived if I’d forced it to live at a speed that wasn't its own. Was it the right decision? Depends on who you ask. But it was my decision, and that’s enough.

And finally, the relationship that didn't continue.

It wasn’t for a lack of love. Quite the opposite. It was because of that love that the decision felt so expensive. But some things are just bigger than feelings: different life paths, values that didn't quite meet in the middle, and a honesty that arrived late... but better late than never.

The cost is a version of life that might’ve been warmer in some parts. Someone who’s there, who knows my name in a way no one else ever will. But there’s also a cost to not letting go, and that’s the one that’s harder to calculate because it’s made of things that didn't happen: the peace that never came, the direction that stayed blurry, the version of myself that kept negotiating with a choice I already knew the answer to.

Letting go, as it turns out, has its own price tag. And choosing to walk away was one of the most "adult" things I’ve ever done, even if it didn't feel adult at all while I was doing it.

We so often only count what we gain. The credit column is always full, because the brain is a very selective accountant. One that quietly refuses to record the painful expenses. I think a lot of grief doesn't come from failure. It comes from the shadow of the alternative lives we didn't live. From questions with no answers that we ask anyway, in the nights that are a little too quiet:

What if, back then, I had chosen differently?

Time no longer feels like a river running forever. It's changed shape into a finite stack of coins that must be spent with great care. Don't use them today and they're gone. No interest, no cashback, no loyalty points to redeem at the end of the year.

But understanding opportunity cost is not meant to make us regret. It's the opposite. It teaches us to stop choosing carelessly. To stop paying with the most valuable coins we have: time, presence, peace of mind, and ourselves.

This life is a series of losses we chose ourselves. Each of my three big decisions left behind something that can't be taken back. I don't know if they were the right ones. What I know is that they were honest. Made with the best information I had at the time, by a version of me that was trying her best. And I think I'm proud enough of the choices I've made.

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The Silent Resilient She Taught Me

I think the day my dad took his final breath is a kind of nightmare my mom never fully woke up from. He literally died while she was holding him in her arms. I try to imagine seeing that from her point of view and my brain just taps out. Error. Cannot process. How do you watch your person suddenly just go quiet in your hands? That’s not just heartbreak, that’s life taking a baseball bat to your chest.

Losing a loved one has to be one of the most painful things a human can feel. Pretty sure my mom didnt get any tutorial of easy steps to handle her husband dying. I remember the day after it happened is just chaos, serving food endlessly to guest coming to our house, sounds of prayer that's oddly numbing, faint crying, relatives asking the same questions, and then suddenly silence.

And after all that, life still expects my mom to function. No pause button, no “brb, grieving.” She had to continue living. She didn’t get the option to shut down and disappear. There were paperworks, kids, rice that still needed to be cooked, uniforms that still needed to be washed, school fees that don’t go on discount just because my dad died. She need to continue being a beacon for the family after that kind of loss.

She made sure we were well fed. She made sure we got a good education. She made sure there was always a roof over our heads and some version of “normal life,” even though her version of normal had just been destroyed. The wild thing is, there’s no reward system for this. No one gives her a “congrats for not falling apart” trophy. There’s no special coupon like, “10% off electricity bill because she's a grieving single mom now. Nothing.

Sometimes when i look at her now, i don’t just see “my mom.” I see a woman who had to rebuild her whole identity from “us” to “me and the kids.” A woman who lost her partner and then had to pretend to be okay enough so her kids wouldn’t feel like the whole world was collapsing. My mom gone all thru that, but i couldn't really grasp how she did all that.

And i think a part of me is who i am today because of that silent resilience. The way i love, the way i work, the way i push through hard things, there’s a piece of her in all of that. Her grief didn’t just shape her life, it shaped mine too.

So yeah, when i talk about my dad’s death, it’s never about him being gone. It’s also about my mom staying for us, choosing us, showing up again and again, even when she was tired, scared, lonely, all of it. That quiet, daily, unglamorous strength.

That’s the kind of thing i’ll probably spend my whole life trying to understand and lowkey trying to live up to.

[satpad]

It’s a strange thing to step away when your heart is still reaching forward. Feels like leaving a party while the musics still playing. We still wanna stay, we still wanna dance, but we know it’s time to go.

The warmth is there, familiar as always, but it doesn’t reach me in the same way it used to. Maybe it’s the hours, maybe it’s the screens, maybe it’s the way life has slowly rearranged us without asking for permission.

I still find myself smiling at your messages, still waiting for your voice to fill the space between my days. But at the same time, there’s a quiet knowing that not everything can stretch across the miles. Some things need presence, not promises.

There are nights when I catch myself reaching for the comfort of what used to be, and mornings when I remind myself that change, although heavy, is also a teacher. It shows us how to let go without losing what matters most, how to carry you with me even when you’re not here

Nothing ended loudly. No slammed doors, no harsh words. Just a gentle shift, like two rivers drifting apart, still carrying the same water, but moving toward different seas.

So here we are. Not enemies, not strangers. Just two people who wanted to keep walking together, but found the road turning in different directions.

And so, instead of clinging tightly, I’m learning to hold gently. To cherish the laughter we shared, the warmth that still lingers, and the quiet truth that love doesn’t vanish just because circumstances shift.

And maybe that’s okay. Maybe one day the roads will cross again. But for now, we’re learning how to hold on in a different way.

quietly, from afar.

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Chore

Writing feels like a chore now. the thing i used to love and genuinely enjoy... now feels like a chore!! what do i do now??? i still remember back in junior high, i couldn’t wait to rush home, turn on my PC, open blogspot, and just write. about my day, my random thoughts, every single detail of my uneventful teenage life stitched into little story threads. i’d even force my friends to read it, beg them to make their own blogspot accounts so they could write too, and i’d read theirs like it was the most important literature ever.

And now? just the idea of journaling makes me tired. you know how they say writing helps you process emotions, release stress, boost your mental health yada yada? yeah well, not when it feels like another task on a never ending to do list. i mean, look at me. i’m literally writing a rant about how i feel about writing. the irony is off the charts. lmao.

I guess part of it is because writing has become my job. every single day, i write content, scripts, thesis, copy. i write and write and write. so when i finally have a moment to write for me, for fun, for no one else... it just feels like more noise. like text pollution. there’s just. so. many. words.

Sometimes i wonder if blogspot me would be proud or just horrified. like “oh wow, you write for a living now??” and then immediately “wait, you hate it??” i miss that girl who didn’t care about structure or aesthetics or algorithms. she just wanted to tell a story, no matter how pointless it was. maybe i need to find her again.

[satpad]

Lessons I Learned in 2024

People who attack you or assume wrong things about you are usually unsure and dissatisfied with their own lives. The easiest thing for them is to lash out at you. Just let them be. Your words are too precious to waste on people like that.

Investing in probiotics and vitamins is really worth the price. Check if you’re truly depressed, or if you're just lacking in Vitamin D (the actual vitamin, not what you're thinking of).

Kingkong is not a real animal (i legit thought it's a different type of gorilla)

If someone’s Instagram bio says something like “you have to be a good person” or “kindness is free,” most likely they’re the shittiest kind of person with the shittiest personality. They probably have undiagnosed NPD and think the world revolves around them. I’m writing this as my acid reflux hits my throat because of the ick. Ewh

If baked long enough, ubi cilembu tastes like caramelized sugar or candy.

My moral compass is questionable, and luckily i don't act based on my own moral compass because if i do, things will go berserk :)

Haruki Murakami is shit

Food are not that expensive if you don't gojek or eating out everyday... What's hard is beating the laziness to shop and to cook, really.

Grocery shopping in a hungry state is a bad idea. I end up spend more money on snacks that i regret buying.

No matter how many times I hit snooze, I’ve learned that those extra 10 minutes of sleep do nothing but make me more tired.

Chat GPT is VERY helpful if you know how to use it and give it the right prompt. ISTG you don’t want people catching you with an instagram caption full of unedited GPT words like "foster," "nuanced," "compelling," "cutting-edge," "delve," followed by ✨sparkle emoji✨ at the end of your sentence. That's embarrassing. In a world full of AI, add a touch of humanity and authenticity (I swear this is not from Chat GPT)

I usually felt guilty about leaving books unfinished. In 2024, I gave myself permission to stop reading when something didn’t resonate :p

IF YOU HAVE TIME TO SLEEP, GO SLEEP! (i hate the fact that i write this at 01:31 AM)

Celebrate small wins. Those tiny achievements matter more than I used to think.

I still hate going to the gym or doing any sports. The only sport I enjoy is swimming (or hiking because of the nature), but now I get headaches easily when I swim. I really need to push myself because this body isn’t going to be 20 forever (I'll be 30 next year… what?!)

Procrastination is more stressful than the task itself

No matter how many socks I buy or how carefully I pair them, one will always go missing. So i just accepted the fact that mismatched socks are my new normal :')

Active listening is a RARE skill. Really should keep in mind to listen, listen, listen, then speak. Listen to understand, not to argue.

I'll add other stuff when i remember. It's 01:40 AM now.

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Birds of a Feather Flock Together

We've probably heard the saying "You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with." Lmao sounds like something ripped straight from a cheesy motivational poster, but guess what? It's true. As we journey through life, we met a lot of people. Some who are absolute gems, and others who are, well, questionable? human train wrecks? These people, alongside our parents and the environment we grow up in, mold us into who we are. So, it's crucial to be picky and surround ourselves with people who genuinely want to see us bloom, who aren’t afraid to call us out when we screw up, and who are our biggest cheerleaders. These folks are our anchor.

But sometimes the process is hard and it betrays you because inevitably, you'll find yourself in a script you didn't write. One day you just happen to bump into an absolute pigshit yapping babbling baboon. These are people who have zero ambition, low attitude, and a bizarre obsession with seeing others fail. These are the folks who spend their days gossiping like it’s an olympic sport, tearing others down just to feel marginally better about their own pathetic lives, and whining about their problems without lifting a single finger to change anything. Ring any bells?

Do you love Twilight? Cuz i don't. Well these type of people are the Twilight character come to life, it's a breed called the life sucking energy vampire. Every conversation is a black hole of negativity, every interaction leaves you feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck. Good luck getting stuck in their endless drama and cynicism, because it is the only emotion they're able to emit and attract. Try hanging out with these energy vampire and find yourself stuck in the mud with them, wondering why your life feels like one never-ending episode of a bad reality TV show.

So evaluate, reflect and think about your circle. Do you really want to spend your precious time with people who have nothing better to do than wallow in their misery and drag you down with them? Do not ever, step yourself into a low class drama where you don't belong. They are determined to pull you down to their level of mediocrity.

Surround yourself with people who lift you up, who challenge you to be better, and who actually have their eyes set on the stars.

Life's too short to waste, just say "dih" and leave.

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One Evening Under The Dim Light

Scars are etched not just on my skin, but deep within the very fabric of my being, keeping feelings at a safe distance. As I sift through my past, pain echoes in my chest. Once was my source of joy, now leaving heart that bears the weight of past wounds.

Then there he is, amidst the wreckage of my being, patiently chips away at the walls I've build, bringing warmth to the cold corners of my soul. His words become a comforting melody, whispering promises of healing.

Yet, I find myself standing on the edge of fear, hesitating to dive into the depths of this feeling once more. The ghosts of my past linger, threatening me to believe into my own lies.

One evening under the dim light, I can't escape the feeling of anxiety coiling around my heart. I lay bare the scars that stabs my soul. The pain, the fear, and the haunting memories spill out like ink on a blank page. He listens.

With gentle hands, he cradles my wounded heart, promising not to let it shatter. I'm still scared, but i calmly said to myself that there is hope.

This time, i embrace the possibility of love, learning that not every story is destined to echo the pains of the past. In the delicate dance between fear and hope, I discover that healing can be found in the arms of someone willing to share the burden of my scars.

[satpad]

I Thought Train Pervert Only Exist In Japanese Hentai

Picture this: I'm on the train from Malang to Surabaya, minding my own business, engrossed in the thrilling plot of an anime i’m watching. At the corner of my eyes, i can peek someone in front of me is also busy looking at the screen, and there it is – a sight that could make a flamingo blush. An old man, silver hair and all, shamelessly tuned into arather adult show on his tablet.

I purposefully coughed loud enough for him to hear, and he notice. Our eyes lock, a moment frozen in time, and he hits pause faster than a cat jumps at a laser pointer.

With a sheepish grin, he mutters an apology that's more awkward than a giraffe doing the limbo. I'm thinking, "Okay, maybe he pressed play by accident, no big deal." But boy oh boy, how am i kidding myself.

As I return to my anime binging, I feel a suspicious gaze burning into the side of my head. Lo and behold, Mr. Netflix and Chill has hit play again! This time, he's bolder, the glint in his eye saying, "Yeah, I know you caught me, but this plot line is just too riveting to pause."

In a moment of sheer audacity, he winks at me, and I can't help but burst into laughter. He thought that i’m intimidated by a pervert? It’s as if he’s mocking me and says “Just so you wait i’m gonna open my zipper and jack off on this train and you can’t do nothing.” The absurdity of it all! But fear not fellow passengers, for justice is on the horizon.

Summoning my inner superhero (who coincidentally is terrible at saving the day), I march to the nearest train officer. With the utmost seriousness, I describe the situation, and we hatch a plan worthy of a mediocre detective comedy.

As the train pulls into the next station, our hero, the train officer, swoops in. The old man is escorted off the train, dignity left somewhere between carriages four and five. I wave him goodbye, not in triumph, but in sheer disbelief at the rollercoaster that was my Wednesday commute.

And so, the train rumbled on, leaving me with a story to tell and a lesson learned: always expect the unexpected when riding the rails of public transportation. Who knew the humble train ride could be a front-row seat to such an unforgettable view?

[satpad]

Ciao

I recently deleted few people out of my life. A part of me admits that it is quite immature because clearly there are things that could be discussed instead of me disappearing from their life in an instant (Few times it's the other party that doesn't even addressing the issue wtf). Other part of me believe that it's not necessary because the discussion won't serve anything but closure.

At this point, i don't even feel mad anymore. I just grew distant. Because i know their defense is going to be just as draining as the original action that violated in the first place. I would much rather walk away than spending second after an apology that doesn't come with changed behaviour.

I dont' really feel the need to surround myself with those that doesn't serve any purpose in my life anymore. Especially people that gives me nothing but emotional turbulence. Life itself is already a wrecked rollercoaster and if a person pull another screw outta the track i might as well fly and dead.

I'll also let you create the worst version of me and tell all your friends and family and relatives if it 's able to give you a little bit of a peace to continue your life and leave me the fuck alone. Sorry this post is kinda depressing but it is because i feel a bit depressed so please excuse me this time.

[satpad]

Lazuli Blood

;

I have seen a lot of scars and they are ugly

Not until i saw a rainstorm wrapped in a skin so pretty

It is behind those eyes, weary

I can see from the shattered reflection though it’s kinda blurry

There a lupine try to pluck a rose carefully

For poison will never be afraid to get a little prickly

;

Maybe a daisy will grow on your grave

It blooms from below where you are

As time goes by your leaves withered

And your petals wilted

Little did it knows

Thousand other daisies bloom

On the other grave

[satpad]

Where Does Happiness Begin?

Do you remember the last time you met a person who could actually excite you, someone who suddenly made you feel like everything was possible? Do you remember how you fell so hard in love that it felt like you were ready to leave everything behind? Can you recall those memories when you wished things were different, when you wanted to skip all of the nonsensical feelings and get straight to the point where the world agreed with you?

It happens like this. One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else – closer to them than your closest family. Perhaps because this person carries an angel within them – one sent to you for some higher purpose, to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them – even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering – the reason for their presence will become clear in due time.

Though here is a word of warning – you may grow to love this person, but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn’t to save you, but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled, the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life. They will be stranger to you once more.

In life, I learn that we need to keep ourselves centered – that is what I understand for sure from that person. The presence and absence of that person let me know that I wasn’t spiritually connected to myself. After all the blessings I enjoy in my life, nothing felt enough – until I came to the point where I thought that maybe I needed somebody to save me from my insecurity, to tell me that everything is going to be okay, to pay attention to my happiness, to take responsibility of my sadness. My life stopped for a moment when somebody crossed my path and told me that I was wrong – that my happiness comes from me, that it is my job to make myself happy.

I suddenly realized that I didn’t value enough what I have already had and accomplished. I put all my sources of happiness outside myself, and I didn’t know how to put myself into perspective when they were taken away from me. I could feel happy only if I fulfilled my desire. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t really happy – I was only chasing temporary happiness of a brief moment. When another desire came along, the search for happiness continued. It kept going until I forgot to stop and enjoyed what I already had.

At the end of the day, I believe that we are the beginning of our happiness. We have full responsibility of ourselves. And in this life, people come and go. They can leave us anytime, but we can't leave us – we can’t run away from ourselves. 

this piece is written by Tandy Mackenzie on 2015

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Tetek

Dulu waktu kelas 6 SD salah satu teman saya sedang numpang main komputer di rumah, lalu tiba tiba dia bertanya “Hany kok kamu belum pakai miniset”. Jujur konsep pubertas di otak kelas 6 SD saya waktu itu masih abstrak. Saya belum menyadari kalau seiring waktu tubuh perempuan akan mengalami perubahan. Saya tengok dada teman saya, dan baru itu saya menyadari kalau dadanya termasuk besar untuk ukuran anak kelas 6 SD. Namun saya tidak ambil pusing. Nanti juga tumbuh tumbuh sendiri. Begitu pikir saya.

Waktu SMP kelas 2, dada saya mulai sakit pertanda era tumbuh tetek dimulai. Inilah saat yang saya tunggu tunggu. Akhirnya saya bakal bisa pakai miniset seperti rekan sejawat lainnya. Harapan tersebut sirna saat saya mulai masuk SMA dan menyadari bahwa dada saya sudah tidak sakit lagi dan ukurannya mandek seperti anak SMP.

Ternyata lemak saya tidak tumbuh di tempat-tempat yang saya inginkan. Apakah ini pengaruh kurang minum susu dan Scott Emulsion waktu kecil sayapun kurang tahu. Soalnya kalau bicara secara genetik, perempuan-perempuan dari keluarga saya tidak ada yang berdada rata.

Ada pengalaman yang lumayan nempel di otak saya perkara tetek A cup ini. Waktu jaman kuliah saya pernah berboncengan dengan salah satu teman pria saya. Pas polisi tidur, dia ngerem mendadak dan dada saya berbenturan dengan punggungnya. Saat itu dia langsung nyeletuk “haha kok ga kerasa apa-apa ya”. Saya mendadak sedih banget namun sok savage membalas kalimat teman saya dengan kata kata yang sama nyelekit : “haha kontolmu paling yo cilik”. Setelah itu dia marah dan ngga mau bicara sama saya seharian (mungkin egonya sekecil tititnya).

Bukan hanya tetek, tapi banyak hal yang tidak saya suka pada diri saya. Kenapa pantat saya tepos? Kenapa pipi saya besar? Kenapa rambut saya tipis? Kenapa saya ngga punya alis? Kenapa saya pendek? Banyak kenapa yang bikin saya akhirnya kenapa-napa.

Kepercayaan diri saya semakin rendah, saya jadi ngga bisa menerima pujian dari orang lain karena saya berasumsi hal-hal yang mereka katakan cuma lip-service. Pujian jadi terdengar aneh seperti basa-basi selewat yang ngga tulus.

Perjalanan saya untuk menerima diri sendiri tentu ngga mudah. Di satu titik saya berhenti memusingkan semuanya. I just realize that everyone fight their own battle. Everyone has their own insecurities that they probably won’t talk about and we are indeed our worst critics. Not accepting shit and sulking about what can’t be changed is a toxic cycle. Kecuali saya punya duit buat oplas, sih. But i don’t. So might just roll with it.

Ngga semua hal di dunia ini ada hikmahnya. Tapi kalau dipaksakan, mungkin Tuhan ngga kasih saya badan dan muka macam Miranda Kerr agar saya ngga jumawa soalnya sekarang saja saya sudah sombong. Lagipula diliat-liat saya cakep juga kok. Ngga cakep banget sampai bikin orang nengok sih, tapi lumayanlah kalau saya buka jasa +1 kondangan pasti ada yang mau.

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Jengkol

Jangan terlalu benci pada sesuatu, nanti suka. Saya sering mendengar kalimat ini dalam konteks hubungan romantis antar manusia. Namun saya bukan mau membahas kisah romansa saya yang monoton melainkan hubungan saya dengan salah satu makanan.

Saya menyadari, bahwa semakin bertambah usia saya, banyak makanan yang dulu saya tolak sekarang makin bisa saya tolerir. Salah satunya adalah jengkol.

Dulu saya tidak suka jengkol. Menurut saya rasanya seperti kaos kaki apek. Dimakan pun rasanya bland dan bikin bau dari mulai mulut sampai tai. Jadi saya ngga mengerti dimana menariknya makanan satu ini sampai satu teman saya memesan jengkol balado (cc @daisy). Dia menawarkan satu suap yang saya gigit setengah hati. Kunyahan awal saya masih mengernyitkan wajah, makin lama saya kunyah saya bergumam “enak juga?”. Rasa jengkol ternyata seperti kentang namun lebih sepat dan padat, bercampur dengan sambal dan rempah-rempah ternyata lumayan juga.

Semenjak itu saya terkadang membeli jengkol sebagai lauk. Awalnya saya hanya sanggup memakan setengah porsi jengkol karena belum terbiasa (jujur eneg juga makan banyak-banyak). Makin ke sini, jengkol yang tadinya berperan sebagai teman nasi kini naik kasta menjadi cemilan nonton anime 😭

Tentu saja saya menahan diri untuk tidak makan jengkol tiap hari. Memang sih berak saya jadi lancar sekali tapi saya nggak tahan dengan bau mulut yang awet di mulut sampai 2 harian. Selain itu, bau berak saya jadi bau mayat. Kalau di tempat sendiri sih ngga papa. Kalau saya kebetulan berak di tempat orang lain bisa-bisa saya dicurigai membuang bangkai manusia.

Ada beberapa makanan lain yang mengalami nasib serupa seperti daun kemangi dan bawang mentah. Tapi ceritanya saya simpan untuk lain waktu saja karena sekarang sudah waktunya saya untuk bengong.

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Crush

I wanted to post this on August 25 but i fell asleep so here it is. Another random thoughts sliweran inside my mind.

On a gojek to home from last night party, i was thinking "Why is it called a "crush"? is it because it crushes you?

I think it’s the most reasonable answer. Since i'm not really good at elaborating stuff, i did a little Google to help me. I found the etymology of the word "crush" but it didn't sit quite right on my mind and God i don't want to learn linguistic on Gojek while my brain level is equivalent to a freaking koala (because of the alcohol yknow) so i'm just gonna explain it from a more literal way :

When you taking a like on someone, you have a desire to be with them. But it can take a while before "crush" become a significant other. So in between, feelings get crushed. It crushes concentration, it crushes your attention to things you should've put your mind to, it crushes productivity and in an extreme cases, it crushes self esteem.

Curiousity kills. Some of you are in doubt to confess your feelings, afraid that it'll crush you (lol) if the outcome is not what you expect it to be. And when you realize it's a one sided feeling, you will start to feel pathetic about yourself. Like, you know, you keep thinking about someone that probably doesn't notice you while you're sitting on your sofa staring at their Instagram story wondering when did this feeling grow? Where does this absurd obsession come from? Is it possible that they have the same feeling like you? And yada yada, thousand of follow up question that ends up killing you.

Some of you confess because you want to feel relieved and to be honest, it's pretty devasatating to feel everything by yourself. It feels unfair because you can't have a peace of mind within you. So you confess and let those heavy baggage getting lifted from your chest without demanding the other party to respond your feelings.

Either way, it's your choice. The consequences are yours. Just remember that when you face an unrequited love, this too shall pass.

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0

Masalah saya dalam menulis pada umumnya adalah kemalasan dan ketidak-percayaan-diri. Yang pertama tidak usah kita bahas karena tidak menarik dan klise. Alasan kedua juga tidak menarik tapi ingin saya bahas (lho, haha). Acapkali ketika menemukan sesuatu yang menarik, saya tidak sabar ingin menuangkannya dalam tulisan. Jadilah saya membuka blog dan mulai mengetik. Selang beberapa baris, ketikan saya terhenti karena writer's block. Bingung bagaimana mengelaborasi tulisan tersebut jadi sesuatu yang menarik, maka saya klik tombol "draft" dan saya putuskan untuk berhenti dahulu sembari berharap saya bakal dapat wangsit untuk melanjutkan tulisan tersebut.

Tentu saja menunggu wangsit adalah hal yang sia-sia. Yang justru terjadi adalah : beberapa hari setelahnya saya membuka kembali draft tulisan saya, membacanya ulang, sedikit mengernyitkan dahi, lalu bergumam "kenapa saya nulis sampah begini" lalu bergegas membuang tulisan tersebut. Saya sering merasa bahwa tulisan saya tidak cukup menarik untuk kategori daily life, terlalu dangkal untuk membahas hal-hal yang berat, tidak lucu untuk masuk kategori komedi, dan tidak puitis untuk menyentuh hati orang. Pun ketika menulis ini, saya berpikir untuk membuangnya lagi karena saya berpikir "kenapa pula saya menulis tentang kebingungan saya menulis". Benar-benar tidak ada faedahnya.

Namun kemudian saya berpikir, siapa pula orang yang membaca di sini? kenapa repot sekali harus memikirkan tulisan ini harus ada maknanya. Toh nggak semua hal di dunia ini punya arti. Seperti fungsi pentil pada laki-laki contohnya. Cuma nangkring di buah dada tanpa saya tahu fungsinya. Keluar susu nggak bisa, dilihat pun tidak menarik. Tapi dia ada. Jadi saya anggap saja tulisan saya seperti pentil laki-laki. Ada namun nggak harus punya fungsi. Toh satu dari satu orang yang berkunjung di website ini adalah saya sendiri jadi kenapa pula saya pusing?