Kyoto Jazz Massive

In this world full of physical ideation, we’re often limiting ourselves from the amazing ability of our senses to capture the beauty of our surrounding. We think our eyes can only see beautiful faces. Our ears to hear nice music. Other than what our mind perceived as beautiful or nice, we reject them.

I should say now, pity us.

Here’s the story.

A couple days ago, I went to this annual jazz event in Jakarta. One of the performers is this group called Kyoto Jazz Massive. Honestly I’ve never heard of them before. I consider myself a big jazz fan, so I went to watch them play with the least expectation. At first, I saw a bunch of, traditionally, not attractive people. Skinny average-looking Japanese guys with instruments and two overweight black women vocalists. I thought, when you are in show business, you should be at least pleasant to eyes. So there I was, sitting lazily, felt uninspired. And then they played.

And now I’m in love.

Okino Shuya and Okino Yoshihiro, the leader of the band, magically blend electronica with the instrument flair of jazz musicians in virtuoso level. Vanessa Freeman and Tasita D’Amour, the vocalists, sung not only with their mouth, but with the exquisite vibration come from their entire body and soul. So original, so rich, so entertaining, so inspiring. They make many factory-made, mainstream performers grew by today’s popular culture look and sound so minuscule.

When you decide to look with your ears and listen with your eyes, you will understand this so much feeling that I have now. In love.

Scents

I’m a scents girl. Just the right scent will turn even my lowest mood up high. These are:

• The smell of a newly bought book. It’s musky, mysteriously a mix of many, a promise to the exciting adventure you will get reading it
• The smell of my bedroom when I open its door in the evening, tired from a long day at the office. Its warmth hugs me, body and soul
• The smell of roasted coffee. I don’t really drink coffee since my heartbeat overreacts when exposed to caffeine, but the earthy scent calms me
• The smell of a freshly lit impregnated matches. The quickly vanishing smell from the chemical mix is strangely exciting for me
• The scent of my girlfriend in bed, just waking up in the morning. Her faint soap perfume from shower last night mixed with the sheet smell and her original body scent, makes up to me what I want to call the smell of happiness.

How to Handle Vinyl or Leather Stains

To all of you who have stuff with vinyl or leather finishing and get it stained, here’s some tips:

• General stains
  Blot a cotton ball with baby oil, then rub gently to the stained part. Dry with tissue paper

• Ink stain
  This is difficult to handle since the porous vinyl and leather absorb ink. Therefore, do this first aid immediately after the stain occurs. Blot a cotton ball with alcohol, then press it to the stained part. Leave for 30 minutes to one hour, maintain the pressure over the cotton ball, using heavy stuff like a dumbbell. After that, blot a cotton ball with acetic acid and wipe gently over the part. Repeat the steps if necessary. It may not be fully removing the stain, especially old and deep marks, but it can help to make it sheerer. It’s recommended that you try this on some tiny spots first before you apply to all the stains, see if it discolors your vinyl or leather, then you can decide which one you want to keep, the ink stain or the original color.

That’s how I maintain my ivory white car seats clean and shiny :)

Women United

A couple days ago I went to this mall with two of my friends. We went to this middle-up brand store. The store was the free-standing one, not in a department store. The place was rather small. And it was so cramped because it was in sale. The sale scheme was:

· Buy 1 item, discount 10%
· Buy 2 items, discount 20%
· Buy 3 items, discount 30%

What happened then was interesting. All these women, stranger to each other, suddenly best friends. They passionately, lovingly chat with each other to gather up the items they want to buy so they would get the most discount.

What will happen in a world without men?
Fat happy ladies with nice 30% discounted bags.

In Sanskrit

I just know the meaning of your name.

It means: Special.

You are to me.

My Surreal

I always have these mixed feelings when traveling. Be it abroad or even domestic, since my country is huge. And all those feelings can be represented perfectly by one word. Surreal.

If you have the chance to see me in airports, you will see a smug, aloof, tired-looking girl. My body language will say “I just traveled a thousand miles too far, doing one important thing too many, now I’m tired, back off”. My gaze would shut a bunch of overexcited teen tourist up. I make it clear to everyone that even a journey to the moon will be nothing but ordinary to me. But what do you know, for each of the trip I’m nothing but fascinated, passionate, along that line until giddy. Or I’m unsure, confused about it, along that line until frightened.

And I think there are always some people who seem to be able to see through that veil I put on: against all odds, they engage conversations with me, we tell stories, we laugh. More than often, those people make my day.

I travel a lot. Yet it seems that I never really used to it. Each trip will always feel surreal to me. I will be fascinated, passionate, along that line until giddy. I will be unsure, confused about it, along that line until frightened. Yet I always manage to get to where I’m going.

I think it is all life is about.

Tips on How to be Prepared for Worst Case Scenario on Meeting a New Potential Partner Abroad

1. Get in business class flights or above since you might need a consolable pampering flying back home broken hearted. Never do budget, it’s miserable and will make you even more miserable
2. Book a very decent hotel with fluffy pillow, nice pool, and awesome gym. Never have any below your standard since it can be your only sanctuary if she decides that you’re not a keep
3. Be informed on single-women-friendly places there, in case she decides to make a do on something else the whole time and you end up wandering the foreign soil alone
4. Friends are all you need, be it there or back at home. They can be the water in your arid foreign desert, the star in your foreign dark night sky, the sun in your foreign murky dawn
5. If everything turns to be real nasty and you end up being drama mama, crying extravagantly, exchanging hysterical foreign language shrieks to each other but then suddenly, you oddly feel like laughing because it’s so a black comedy, laugh away, it’s a comedy anyway
6. Last but not least: have backups. Get yourself one or two alternatives, so whenever this girl shuts on you, you can always bid her elegant adieu, turn to other welcoming doors, and the last thing she sees from you is your sexy butt sashaying away.

Happy traveling! :)

Time to Listen

Nat: You know, I don’t have a good feeling about this…

Andrian: From my point of view is, even if the worst thing happen, you still can’t do anything about it. So I would say, relax, and don’t beat yourself over this.

Nat: Maybe it’s time for me to listen to what my heart says.

Andrian : It always brings good, listening to what your heart says.

Nat: Yea… all this time when what my heart says contradicted of what I desired most, I denied to listen, then I ended up not so much in a good shape…

Andrian : We all learn, baby Sis…

Nat: Yes we do. I am going to make this decision… I may bleed over this… stay with me for that while…

Andrian : You know I will.

Nat: *quick hug

Andrian: It will be okay…

On Religion and People

I watched this TV series “Private Practice” last week. Actually I’m a little bit of a fan of this character Dr. Addison Montgomery in that series. She’s mature, sexy, high-achiever, and equipped with alluring eyes and a killing smile. I want one Dr. Addison Montgomery of my own! Hahaha…

But it’s not about that character I want to talk about. It’s about the storyline of this particular episode. It depicted a number of Catholic nuns who caught typhoid fever. Everyone was confused on who transferred that tropical disease to them, while none of them ever left America soil. It turned out that the parish Pastor who transfers it to one of them. At the first time I cringed, since I thought this would be another blasphemy on Catholicism by Hollywood. I braced myself and followed the story:

Pastor : I would sneak in at the night and we would…
Sam : You don’t have to say…
Pastor : I would sneak in at night and we would… cook
Naomi : Cook?
Pastor : I couldn’t boil water before she arrived, never had to. But then I would see her and she was just so graceful and smart. When anyone else was around, I would ask her for pointers. It’s been years now, we have never touched. I knew it was forbidden. She would be away on missions and was I just... A part of me was always waiting…
Sam : That the next time you can be together
Pastor : I missed my friend.

Oh. I smiled. This one is good. No blasphemy, just a smart twist around it. Actually a mocking on the usual blasphemy genre.

I never get it, blasphemies. Why people bother so much to undermine other people belief? If we are true believers, faithful practitioners of our religion, we will have no time to disgrace other religion. We will be busy minding our own business, racing to do each other good, since no religion teaches to do evil to your neighbors.

My message to blasphemers: mind your own business. Get a life.

Big Small Thing

I don’t get acne. Pimples, zits, blemish, anything they’re called, I don’t get them. Therefore when recently one came, I was all flustered *running here and there, hands waving frantically over my head, shrieking hopelessly, kyaaaaa!!

Haha okay I’m exaggerating. But I was indeed panicked. Especially this one was the blackhead kind, it could easily be mistaken as a new mole. And I don’t want new mole. And it flared for days, painful when touched. I’ve heard that moles can turn dangerous when wounded. So I meticulously took care of it, involving antiseptics, band aids, and careful evasion around it when showering and doing my routine facial care. Plus days of staring intently to every mirror around, that zits/mole was definitely was put under microscope. Moreover, I had made an appointment to the most brilliant skin doctor in town, to have it most-advanced medically treated.

And then yesterday morning, it fell off, just like that… yaaayy! Wooohooo!! It was a zits anyway, not a mole. And it was cured completely. Haha imagine what the skin doctor says if I do see her… what easy money, I believe that what she would say while laughing under her breath.

Moral of this sort of unimportant story is: we tend to be afraid of things we don’t know. When we brave enough to face it, more than often it turns out to be manageable anyway. So let’s all be not afraid! :)

Bring It on! Or on Second Thought, Maybe Don’t…

There’s this new girl. I think I like her. Hence the ritual: introduction rites, same-interest probing, searching for the common ground, adjusting my pace on hers, planning on future quality times, budget allocating, etc., all the usual stuff. Then comes the expectation, weighting on the response, counting on whether this is worthwhile or not, etc., all the usual stuff.

But then, a very short while later, I stop. I sit idly. Why this takes a toll on me? Why I feel so hard leaving my current all comfortable single life? The sweet delight of not caring, not wanting, not expecting anything. A burden-free and fresh mind. A steadily, leisurely beating heart.

My old me would say on top of my lung, “Bring it on! I will fight for this girl! No mountain high enough, no valley deep enough, no river wide enough!”

This current me will say, “Enough.”

I guess this person, my ‘the one’, just simply hasn’t come yet, or doesn’t realize that she actually is, yet. When it comes, I personally believe it will be easy, peaceful, and all comfortable for both of us. Meanwhile, I will again sit back, relax, not caring, not wanting, not expecting anything.

Ain’t life sweet…

Partial Amnesia

Lately I’ve been in touch again with one of my ex.

Phone call #1 goes awkward in the beginning because we haven’t talked to each other in almost half a year. But then the ice breaks. We update each other on our lives, we laugh, we tell each other I miss you. Then afterward I wonder why I let her go, if talking to her is this much fun.

Phone call #2 goes even smoother. We begin to throw our own intimate jokes like when we were still together. We promise the next time we’re within vicinity of each other we will definitely meet up. I tell her that I wrote something about her in my blog and she promises she will take a look. Then afterward I even more wonder why I let her go, if talking to her is this much fun.

Phone call #3 was a drag. I ask her about the post on her in my blog and she doesn’t get it, she says. I ask what part, she says she doesn’t understand anything figurative. She says she is not savvy enough to neither comprehend nor appreciate my poetic, allegorical way of writing. I am sorry, she says.

Then afterward it suddenly I so crystal-clearly remember why I let her go. It was like we didn’t speak the same language. Many things that I appreciate dearly, she can never feel about the same way. Not of any ill intention, it just we differs a great deal of difference.

The thing that it happens quite frequent, this partial amnesia of mine. I tend to only remember the good things in life. The painful ones are often forgotten.

Well I don’t mind actually, this is one amnesia that I only be happy to keep :)

They Married

Jaeden is 23 and Soleil is 22. One day both single and the next day they pronounced that they are married. Don’t think Amsterdam or Sydney, it was held in, brace yourself, Jakarta. The matrimony is by putting their hands together on a Bible and vowed to each other, and, voila, a lesbian marriage it is. At least to themselves.

Don’t get me wrong about the sarcasm. I am happy for them. Jaeden is my baby sister that I care a great deal of. I don’t really know Soleil yet but I’m sure she’s a great girl. They look so cute together. And the spirit to bring their relationship sacred instead of just being bed buddies does touch me, because so many people, even the older and consider themselves wiser ones, can never grown-up enough to do it.

It just that last night it came to me, my reasonable doubt. They had an argument on something, I should say, trivial. Almost too trivial to let your heart endure a painful faster beating from that negative emotion. They behaved like 22 year olds. But hey, they are 22 year old… I might do they same when I was 22, given the same situation. Along with the years after, I grew up mellower, from the ever elevated pain threshold. I know Jaeden, and I believe she will be too someday soon. Then I feel my reasonable doubt withers, knowing that they will work this out, that everything’s going to be just fine.

Jaeden and Soleil, you have my blessing. I wish you love, I wish you happiness, for today and for many many years of infinity.

Why I Give Up Fiction Books

Simply because reality is often quirkier. Sometimes I even can’t believe that they are really happening.

Early in my life, I used to read a lot of romance, detective, and fantasy books. Now I have my own supplies of romance, detective, and fantasy stories right in front of my eyes!

Will keep them coming to this blog… behold! :)

Delicious Upshot of the Road Madness

For all of you who are not familiar with Jakarta public transport system, I tell you, it’s crap. Buses are old and pickpocket haven. Trains are ugly and kill people. Taxi is the brighter side but make sure you pick the one most reliable, the others are joining buses and trains in the crap side. There’s also this one called Bajaj, a three-wheeler originally from India, a small, bright orange, obnoxiously loud road madness.

It’s been a while since I use any of them. And I don’t miss them, honestly. But yesterday I get my chance to do some reminiscence with one of those darlings, the bajaj. See, I went to one of my account office in a messy part of Jakarta. I put my car in the nearest shopping mall with the nice parking lot, saving it from possible scratches from that chaotic traffic in the area. I took a taxi to get there, but then I couldn’t find any on my way back. There were bajajs, so I took one. Bajaj fare is determined by a bargain between you and the driver. I’ve lost all my ability to bargain, so I said yes to his price. Then what do you know, it turned out to be a fun ride. My bajaj maneuvered agilely in between cars and buses and motorbikes and everything in the traffic. Took me ten minutes to the usual twenty minutes ride since it went to small lanes only fixed for bajajs that bigger vehicle can’t get through. And my biggest delight of the day: it passed through this famous traditional fragrant rice eatery I’ve been longing to go but never sure where it was. Hooray for that small, bright orange, obnoxiously loud road madness! :)

Ms. F Gets Me Through

Let me describe you Ms. F. She’s in her early thirties. She’s lean and lanky. Cropped softly-highlighted hair. Strong yet cute nose. Soft jawline with cute, rather chubby naturally pink cheeks. Just the right tone and flawless fair-skinned, she reminds me of ancient Chinese princesses. She walks classily. She moves elegantly with chin slightly up, confident yet amiable.

It was a high profile, very tough summit. Months of work pressed into a three days workshop. Yet I feel like walking on an immensely beautiful flower bed. All because of Ms. F. She sat beside me all along, I could all the time had a close look on her cute, rather chubby naturally pink cheeks. Watched her walked classily and moved elegantly with chin slightly up, truly amiable.

Ms. F is now back to her office, me to mine. Only a slight possibility that we will see each other again. But that three days summit aka walking on an immensely beautiful flower bed with Ms. F reminiscence will always brings my lips and heart a smile.

Of Wanting Ms. T

I’m sure there are moments in your life when you feel the solid ground under you slightly rickety. When you’re in an unfamiliar places, meeting new people, or doing things out of routine.

Well it’s not about the situation I want to talk about. It’s about who I want to be with, who I want to talk to, who I want to hold during that situation. It’s Ms. T.

They say when you think much about someone, somehow she will become aware of it. I wonder if Ms. T tickles now…

Glory of the SUV

Early this year I got myself an SUV. My first high ground clearance car after oh so long. Always been into the comfy ride and the need for speed of sedans, eventually I am being practical, that this challenging Jakarta road tarmac is better be coped with an SUV.

And last weekend I was so grateful of my gas-guzzling ride. See, along the main streets of Jakarta there is this busway lane, a lane exclusively for buses. This lane is separated from the main lane by a ten centimeter concrete separator. And last weekend I was stuck in a light traffic jam. In my right there was this empty unused busway lane. Then what do you know, I fearlessly maneuvered my car crossed the separator into that empty busway lane, and speed my way along the traffic jam in my left. Hahahaha it feels sooo good…

Yeah unleash yourself sometimes! :)

Purified and Formed

You do make mistakes. Grave ones sometimes. You swear on it, you cry on it. You feel foolish. You can’t believe you didn’t see it coming. Things you do in the tip of anger, when your logic is as intact as a schizophrenic’s. That after a nick of time you dearly regret it. Precious knowledge you blab to a suck-up, a fake, during a delirium of lust.

All good education comes in price. Comes in pricey. My three-year-ish in this company is a PhD in the education of life. Solid gold needs to be purified in fire. A prime katana needs to be formed in great force.

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." Kahlil Gibran

Blame It to the L Word

Last weekend, one of my friends asked me to join her in this lesbian get-together in this on-and-off hangout place in one of Jakarta CBD area. I dropped by for only a short while since I had to go somewhere else later that night. And actually that short while was really all I need. See, I don’t really hang out with lesbian communities. My friends are close-knitted. Not out of the arrogant misdemeanor, it’s just that since I’m very in the closet, meeting tons of new people at once, that tons of new people suddenly know that I’m gay, really makes me giddy.

Back to the party. Long story short, the girls were swarming the place. I was amazed, this party was really successful, quantitywise. Then of course, naturally, my friends and I were scanning each of the participants. Then we got disappointed. All the blame to the L Word, since it poisoned us with the unlikely idea that lesbian parties should be packed with all this pretty, hip, fashionable gay women.

This saying “manage your expectation” is applicable every time, much to my dismay. Reality bites.

House of Cards

I admire Lillian. A true genuine person who lives by choice. She’s one of the bravest people I know, a person who dare to let everything go for something that she loves best.

Many people might not understand. She gave up a designer office chair, a prominent job which brings a prominent status, an all-round comfortable life. She prefers to live near the beach, dedicates most of her time for the beaches she loves, hugs the life in one breath as the beach breathes.

I was drawn to her spirit, her persona. And I can say we were going the way there, to build a house for both our souls to be together. But then one little thing happened. That little thing was an intense conversation on our beliefs. Then what do you know, our house was a house of cards, and that card on belief was the one in the very base. When it was pulled out, there it went.

We’ve said goodbye to our house. But I will always admire Lillian. For her bravery, for daring to let go of everything for something that she knows she loves best.

A Tribute

Nell is a great girl. She’s compassionate, soft spoken, merciful. Very generous, sometimes until the level of bleeding herself. She can love you more than you love yourself.

We spent some time together. Along the way, I only got all the best of her. She’s the right person, yet too bad, it was the wrong time. We didn’t share the same world. It’s like we spoke in two different languages.

I realize I haven’t thanked her properly for our time together, for her time, her love, and every tidbit sparkle of happiness we shared. Therefore this is a tribute to her.

Dear Nell, I wish you love, I wish you happiness. You deserve it.

The Bearable Lightness of Being

In this very moment, I’m single. I mean really really single. No girlfriend, no unfinished business with an ex, no friend with benefit, no serious heartthrob.

In my earlier years, this would be the period of agony. Oh this emptiness, oh this hollow in my heart, oh this oh that. But then from that point, I experienced many things. Went a long way to hell and back. Crossed path with all these girls. Pretty girls, check. Not so pretty girls, check. Rich girl, check. Poor girl, check. Perfect-bodied girl, check. Curvaceous girl, check. High achiever girl, check. Sit-on-her-ass-everyday girl, check. Girl with attitude, check. Girl with attitude of a wild hyena, check. All in-betweens, check.

Maybe that’s why now I can sit back, relaxed, peering lazily to things passing by. Not that I’m stating that being single is better than committed, but I guess whatever relationship status you’re in now, make sure it’s something of your choice. As in my case now, I’m currently enjoying each and every minute of being not needed to please anyone beyond my level of comfort. It feels… airy. It feels light. My bearable lightness of being.

I realize I will not be in this state of life for good. I might be in a relationship tomorrow. I might be out of a relationship the day after. But no matter, I know I will be as grateful.

Along the way, sometimes all we need is a moment to have breaks. To kiss the flowers, to say hello to sunshine. Then we can set off again, all refreshed, prettier, and shinier.

Root

Last night I watched this comedy show in Trans TV, an Indonesian local station. This show is called Extravaganza, and it mostly is funny. There was this segment, a parody on Indonesian traditional singers called Sinden. One of the guest stars was this Caucasian girl, dressing in a traditional clothing called Kebaya from one of Indonesian ethnic groups, Javanese. And amazingly, this Caucasian girl behaved exactly like a Javanese girl, talked like a Javanese girl, and even sang Javanese song in just perfect Javanese accent. People were amazed and cheered.

I was too amazed and cheered. But then my cheers stopped in mid air. Then I walked rather unconsciously to a mirror. Then staring at my own reflection. I looked at, unmistakably, a Javanese girl. The black mid-size eyes, the mid-size nose, the cheekbone, the eyebrows, the brownish skin. And then why there are not any Javanese word in my mind? Why when people talk to me in Javanese, although I generally understand, I just smile weakly then speak in Bahasa, telling them that I don’t speak Javanese?

Many conveyed that tradition, including the traditional language, is so last century. If you want to keep up with the today’s world, then popular culture it is. Which in my case, it is Western. I adopt the language, food, lifestyle, even to some extent, way of thinking. Which is not completely wrong, because many are indeed good. I was raised in a multicultural surroundings and indeed was prepared to be the citizen of the world. But I feel like nudged by that Caucasian girl in the comedy show. That wherever edge of this world I had gone to, whatever gazillion things I had done, whoever all kind of people I had met, I am, every drop of my blood, every tidbit of my bones, every breath, is an Indonesian girl, from the ethnic group of Javanese.

Speaking of my ethnicity, if you’re familiar with Indonesian people ethnicity, you can’t mistake me that I, by large, by far, is Javanese. And it is this very typical Javanese look, so if you say I look like someone, you will be the 17,821st person who said it to me, hahaha. But then, there this funny thing about it. It is that whenever I travel abroad, people who make a pass on me is, almost every time, Blacks or Indians. Well can’t blame me for looking like Aishwarya Rai or Beyonce… or Rihanna… hahaha…

But I digress. The thing is, there’s this calling inside me to start digging and getting in touch with my root. Of the long line of people descended their blood to me. To understand the language, the tradition, the culture, the music, the way of life, the way of thinking. I believe there are many ingenious acumen, old but wise way to do stuff, which will be still applicable even for today. It will be like I seek advice from this great people, my predecessor, whose wisdom endures time.

It will be an exciting journey.

Shunning Bali

Like or not, some people can really matter for us. They may be long gone from your life, yet the memory on them lingers still. Though you may not dwell on it, but somehow it always finds a way to creep into your mind again. And like my friend says, reminiscence is a bitch.

I always shun Bali since the breaking up of one of my most noteworthy romantic relationship. Yes it took place, mostly, in Bali. It took place among its beaches, flowers, and sunshine. When it ended, it was not only between me and my girlfriend, it was also between me and Bali. I refused and passed all the offers and temptation to go there since. Once I couldn’t say no, but I managed to make it really short and diminutive.

And now, three years after, I finally can’t run any longer from Bali. It calls me loud and clear. First it was scheduled for a three days business trip, but then it stretches to four, five, six, and then seven days. It was not easy, I tell you. It was a battle. Work really help to shut my mind, but when the night came the ghosts of the past come and dance. On the fifth night I almost gave in and just in the brink of calling my ex to see me, but my angels, my buddies came to my rescue and dragged me back from doing that abysmal mistake.

In just a few more hours I’ll be flying away from Bali. In just a few more hours I’ll grab my victory. Over nights of moments of weakness, over sentimental impulsive acts, over the little, foolish person I was.

I am a different person now. And whenever Bali calls me, I’ll stand up firm, pack my stuff and off I go!

There’s Only One Andrian

I am blessed with a Godsend best friend in this unlikely surrounding called office. Andrian is smart, funny, positive. He sticks around through thick and thin. We sometimes argue but none of us dwells on any of it. We’re really cool together, not anyone can match our sassiness, hahaha.

Then there’s Hallie. She’s smart, funny, positive. She sticks around through thick and sometimes, thin. We sometimes argue and we do dwell on every of it. We’re cool together, but it withers under pile of things to do. I was thinking that she can be my another true joy of friendship in this unlikely surrounding called office, but now I choose not to take that proposition too seriously.

I guess I have to live it that there will only be one Andrian. Well it’s more than enough :)

“Come here you hairy one!” *me chasing a running-for-your-life 3-month-unshaven laughing Andrian

How a Bag Makes a Woman

I never get this frenzy that people, or to be more specific, women, have on bags. Women can spend a ridiculous amount of money for a trendy designer bag. Being a truly practical person, I do never get it. It’s just a bag, it can’t call, it can’t take picture, it can’t take you’re here and there in a ride, it can’t kiss you goodnight and cuddles you warm and tight, so why bother spend millions of rups for one?

But just a couple days ago I suddenly so crystal-clearly understand. See, my office was just giving away perks for our last year performance, and one of them was this notebook bag for everyone. People could choose and the budget was good. So I choose this branded, cute burgundy girly backpack, it’s carefully crafted, and looks expensive. I was so happy having it, and yes, suddenly I see, how a fine bag makes a woman. It’s your extended self, it boosts your confidence, it breaks you from the clutter. In short: it completes you. I even never regard a girlfriend that much, that it completes you, hahaha.

So here I am, running jovially toward this bag-frenzy-girls, waving my hands happily, “I’m in I’m in I’m in, girls! Wait for me!!”

:)

Captivated

It’s been quite some time since the last time I was really captivated. Many of them were situational, the feelings came from accessibility or moments together.

But now I am. Captivated. She’s even more of it because the lack of the accessibility and moments together.

Restrained by golden rules. Wonder if she knows.

I miss you. Can you hear that, babe? I miss you.