Published beneath an open sky…

I tried to consider myself as a mobile person while in reality I got my delicate tush stuck on a chair most of the time.

But there are moments when I’m actually mobile, on the road and itching to spew out a word or two to my global follower. And thus, I tweet.
Then again, there were also times when 140 characters just, well, ain’t enough.

What to do oh what to do?

Well, this is my answer. I finally decided to try and use wordpress’ mobile blogging, and I must say that it’s more than adequate for my needs. So yaaay and three cheers for WordPress!

This way I might blog more often (please put considerable attention on the word ‘might’).

On the lighter side of things, I could’ve just tweet; “tried m.wordpress.com and satisfied”, but where’s the fun in that? Right.

That old storage at the edge of town…

Before this place’s born, I engraved my mind at Multiply.com, which as time goes by, got abandoned like all the things in my life. Yeah, same old story huh? Anyway, couple of days ago, while browsing for por…I meant, important things about life, world news and all that, suddenly curiosity nudge me to open my multiply page.

Once there, I re-read all of my postings, and memories flows like punctured balloon. Some of the posts are nicely written which makes my nose expands, while some others makes me want to bury my head in shame.

Those are a part of my life.

I also found some of my writings, works of fiction, that reminds me of a passion diminished. I have to admit, these are the ones that makes me sad. Not because of what’s in them, but what they represent. A part of me that was lost. How I long to have it back. To have it explode in fiery blaze and flourish with all the brightest colours.

Yeah. Am starting to whine.

You know what? I am sure I will get it back. It’s always in me. I’m trying to be positive here.

All in all, it was good to open that rusty door and see all the junk and trinkets inside. I surely will come back from  time to time, and who knows, maybe I’ll add another piece of memories there. Just like this place.

Oh, I’m thinking of moving some of the writing works here, but it’s in Indonesian so it’ll deviate from the continuity. Maybe I’ll post it with a translation, but we’ll see about that.

Sincerely yours…

Hey you,

It’s been awhile since we talk. Feels like I’ve been avoiding you. I don’t know why. Strange, since you’re the very person I long to see and talk with. I miss you.

I even don’t know why I wrote this. Did I hope that somehow you’d find this insignificant blog and read my note to you? Yes, I do, although you may not realize for whom I wrote it. Well, no matter.

Do you know something? I’ve never really thought of myself as an happy person. Yes I know that I have a wonderful life, more than I can say compared to a lot of others. Still, people tend to look up instead of down. Myself included. When I looked up, all I see is Can you blame me for that? Hm, maybe you should. I know I should But, I remember one particular day where I felt…happy. You were there.

What is it about you, I wonder? Is it maybe your smile? Your personality? Your ideals? What? I’ve been trying to figure it you and yet found no definite answers. Maybe it’s just you. Your whole being. Oh, I know that I sounded like a guy hitting on women in singles bar, but really that’s how I feel. Put a name to it, might as well call it love. Hey, bingo! Hehehe.

Yeah, that’s me. Can’t help myself not to joke around all the time. Sorry.

Love, infatuation, whatever. It’s not important. You made me happy, and for me, that means a lot. Problem is, can I do the same to you? My below standard self-esteem says no. There you go. This delirious, pot-bellied, professional procrastinator couldn’t possibly have anything interesting to offer you. And I believed that. Me. The biggest ego this side of hemisphere felt inadequate. You must be really something, and hey, you are.

By this time I bet I’m beginning to bore you. I’d better make it short then *a bit too late for that*. I know, that looking to far ahead, like wanting to be with you, is like waiting for world peace. Impossible in our lifetime. Thus, for know, all I want is just to see you again. That’s it. We can have some coffee or something, your choice. After that, well, let’s just see. Perhaps another coffee, perhaps more. Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, world peace is possible after all.

Now, it’s time for bed. I hope you’ll have a good night…and dearest, have a sweet dream.

To join the morning ritual of commoners…

News flash: I found myself a steady job!

Yup. That’s right. After two years of earning a living as a freelancer…now finally I tied myself to an establishment. Thus the revolutionist comes home.

This is actually my second month. I’ve got to tell you…it’s so so hard to change two years of working habit to another. It used to be waking up with sunlight awash all over the room. Now, when I woke up, the sun barely blinking yonder east (it’s obviously an exagerration but bear with me).

Also my caffeine habit starts to flourish in a manner I’ve never expected before. I need my daily shot lest I become a living dead working for a paycheck. Never ever that happened before. Coffee was always a liquid of fun and enjoyment, never a necessity.

Waking, working and slouching till the sun rises? Adieu to that…

Drive wherever I want, whenever I want? We went separate way…

And so, the question is…what the hell was I thinking?!

But am happy now I’ve chosen this path. Somehow, everything became much more…defined. Certain doubts were answered and I’m thankful. Met a lot of new people, cool people. Encounter a few new absurdities. It’s delightful. Changing one’s life is never an easy task I know. But really, the process is not all that bad. I might enjoy this. We shall see where this path will take me.

Still, I will forever hates the traffic.

Now, back to work.

Quitter…

How to become one? Easy, just start something and stop halfwa

Days of Cinematic Adventures a.k.a JiFFest 2008

Starting today, for the next five days I will be joining the throng of thousands of Jakartarians lining up to the doors of theaters across town. Yes, the tenth Jakarta International Film Festival’s finally here.

Although I couldn’t call myself a avid movie buff, I always enjoyed watching movies. They let me tap into another world, another reality without me having to try hard. Unlike reading a book, you are spared from having to build your own theater of mind (which was why I like reading books better). They are…how to put it…packaged imagination. Of course we are talking about good movies here, because the bad ones, well…they tend to make me want to run back to my own reality instead.

And so, film festivals, like JiFFest, present an excellent opportunity for me to tap and enjoy dozens of realities from around the world, with reasonable price too!

Thus, be on the look out! For tomorrow, and the days after, I will walk into the theaters, sitting comfortably as the lights dim and let myself be whisked away to faraway places for two hours or so. And maybe, those faraway places delight me so, that I’ll be compelled to share them to all of you. I have one already in mind but that’s for next post.

See you at the screening!

At night, I rant

One of the bliss of being nocturnal is listening to bossa nova in the dark while sipping a glass of southern comfort. Ah, heavenly.

Of course I can only do that when there are no deadlines hanging above. Even then, I still love working at night better than when the sun arrogantly shines. At night I can rest assured no one will bother me. No sound other than the music playing and the occasional muffled sound of mice partying up on the roof.

At night I can be alone.

A friend once told me, one of the sign of introvert-ness is being able to be alone hours on end. Well, maybe I’m an introvert afterall. No matter. Being introvert or extrovert or even pervert have nothing to do with me loving the darkness that engulfs me, caress me in velvety warmth and majestic silence.

In silence I can dream.

As the bell stroke the twelfth time, that’s when my mind soars. Above the clouds, across continents and through someone’s bathroom window. This feeling of freedom is nothing less than ecstasy. It’s like finding out that you’ve won lottery, like the first time you lose your virginity (can there be a second time?), like the third pass of mary jane from a friend.

Only trouble is, in the dark I can’t see the letters on the keyboard. That sucks.

Mmmm…

Actually, I don’t really have anything important to write today. It’s just that, right at this very moment, I have in my hand, a glass of vanilla ice cream, and let me tell you it’s oh so very good!

That’s all. Now let me get back to my ice cream.

A Place Un-Cared For

Oh look at that . . . my last entry was months ago.

It’s so typical of me, you know. Create something and then let it go. Well, a dear friend told me not so long ago, that I’m a person who’s unable to really care for anything. I didn’t put much thought into it.

Okay, I lied.

I did put some thought in it but not as much as I should. You see, I always consider myself as a person with quite a dose of creativity. A creator. I elate myself by conjuring stuffs out of my right brain. As they materializes, I play with them for awhile then walk away. It’s that one time process that I love, but tell me not to do it again. If that reflects what my friend said about me then yes, she’s right (I forgot to mention that my dearest friend here is always known to be right about anything).

Trouble is, and I realized this, that one character of mine is not exactly mandatory to success. Meaning, I must get rid of it or at least tone it down. How? Well, maybe I can start by taking care of this blog more often. Open myself and pour it on digital form. Maybe afterward I can move to even bigger things.

Maybe.

Adieu to Rolla?

For those who are close to me, they will certainly knows who I am talking about. For those who don’t, well, Rolla is my car. A battered down (at least from the outside . . . and uh, also from the inside) 1991 Toyota Corolla formerly belonged to my grandmother (yes, I’m driving my grandma’s car. Now shut it!). The only way you’ll know that it’s a deep metallic blue painted is by reading the registration paper. Otherwise, you’ll say that it’s black, grey, or as seriously described by a friend of mine, the color of “Bandeng Asap” (smoked milkfish, an Indonesian delicacy).

Despite it’s visually challenged looks and old age, Rolla still runs very well (Yes Aldi, I hear you. Now hush and let me finish). As I was saying, Rolla still runs very well thanks to countless trips to the shops and countless visits from the her ‘doctor’. Compared to her younger sister, my mom’s car,  a 1994 Mitsubishi Lancer GLXi, her engine, clutches, suspension and overall driving comfort still feels a whole lot better. Don’t ask about the speed and acceleration comparison though. I can still taste the dusts on my lips.

I love this car. I may not shown it much but I do. It’s practically my personal mobile time capsule, having witnessed a lot of things in my life. If you’re a CSI expert, you might uncovers a secret or two, among other (probably living) things, inside Rolla.

But now, alas, the price of fuel has gone up again. *Cry of anguish*

As I dug deeper into the darkest crevices of my wallet to pay for fuel, I began to have evil thoughts. A ghostly form resembling a glimmering, brand new scooter hung before my sleepless eyes. This weary brain often stole moments of deep calculation. Numbers are fighting againts numbers. Dark forbidding questions rose one after another. “How much can I save by riding motorcycles instead?” How much will it take to buy one?” If I sell Ro . . . it (I’m careful not to name names here), would I get enough and more?” These question haunts my dreamless slumber. Oh the agony of confusion and stinginess.

I know, most probably I won’t ever sell Rolla. But the fact that I’m thinking about it goes to show how big the problem I’m facing right now. The way I see it, if I want to rode with Rolla still, I have to cut my other spending significantly. Either that or I find another means of income *my spider-sense warns me of someone preparing to kick my ass*

Oh well. Guess before I make any decision, I’d better bring Rolla to the car wash first. Such a demanding partner she is.