clean linen.

i am so happy that i washed my sheets last weekend.

there’s nothing like hugging fresh clean blankets when you’re having a hard time. i woke up monday morning (today) bright and early; at 715AM i am already in on my homework, cooking rice while i’m at it and skype-ing with my sister.

it’s her turn to go to uni, and she’s now staying in Sydney for the next two and half years now until she graduates. but the thing about talking on skype is that a lot of things get unsaid, and a lot of arguments get heated so quickly you try to cut over the other person while your internet lags. it is not the most fun or efficient way of communication. my sister and i are both hard-headed. in a debate, we don’t go well against each other, and because of that we usually try to see each other’s perspective on things, compromising ideas and settling for the most convincing side. that’s why although we’re different, we usually like the same things and see the same way; however, after a misunderstanding that ensued, we ended it at a less than desirable click of a button. and somehow it made me feel very lonely. you just never get used to it.

my roommates are struggling with midterms right now so they can care less about my problems, and what bothers me. mom, dad and Raissa are back in Indonesia, finally going back to their daily routine. Anie, is at Sydney, probably a little homesick but having the time of her life over there, and Jordan is at South Korea, too busy with his own life for me to force him to understand. and i wonder why i am so far away from the people that i love, and that i care about. and why despite trying my hardest to stay in contact, at the end of it i am just left exhausted from trying.

i am not complaining though… this is merely a thought that i wanted to share. i am okay because i’m very aware that things could be so much worse, but just the fact that the promise of it getting better is there, i know i’ll be okay.


latte romance


another sunday has arrived, and like last sunday and every other sundays, signifies the passing of a week and the coming of yet another week.

my sunday has been exhausting thus far. from early in the morning, i had to hop on a train to west island; it’s Eid-ul Adha for my muslim friends here (Happy Eid-ul Adha to all of you celebrating (; ) and i went to go socialize with people that i haven’t seen for a long time. it was fun… i’ve always had fun when i’m with them- but the twenty minute train ride was tiring, and i don’t know what’s up with me and transportations, but i always find myself dead tired after riding the train or when i’ve metro-ed or bus-ed for too long. and don’t even bother to mention planes. walking though… doesn’t make me tired. (well walking to a certain extent) i love walking, but i couldn’t possibly walk to west island, it’s just physically impossible.

anyways, i’m back downtown now and after two train rides i feel pretty stumped (i don’t know how people who live ridiculously far from campus do it) and was on my way to the student lounge to nap when i decided that i wanted to be romanced. there’s also the weather that might’ve swayed me into wanting to indulge myself. it’s a bit chilly today, but definitely not a cold that makes your nostrils freeze- today gives us people of Montreal just the right amount of coldness that flushes your cheeks (before it felt like hell has frozen over). AND it’s sunday.

it basically is the perfect sunday afternoon where you get the right amount of wind and sunshine… who doesn’t want to be romanced.

but Jordan is halfway across the world from me, and probably still sleeping right now since he usually only wakes up an hour and a half before his lecture starts, providing him just enough time to commute and make it to school on time. i can bet my liver that romance isn’t exactly what he has in mind right now, and he’s probably worried sick about his schoolwork more than anything else- so instead i went to a quiet little cafe near campus where the walls and the ceilings are entirely made of glass, separated only by metal frames, and sat with my latte just listening to whatever music on my iTunes. that cup of latte is my date for the afternoon, and that in itself was enough romance for me to last another week.

sometimes we forget to be grateful for the little things that we already have; just because it’s little, it doesn’t mean it’s not substantial. i can be a bitch and rant about how this long distance relationship is not just about how far Jordan and I are physically, but how great our time difference is, and basically go on and on and on about it like an ungrateful brat. but honestly, i think it’s important for people to be happy with themselves and be content with their own presence, because at the very end, you’re your only lifelong friend- you’re all you’ll ever have and it’s about time that people realize, and be thankful for that.

anyways. going to meet my friend soon for yet another library date. peace-ing out,

have a happy sunday loves.



loving life.

“There have been very good parts and very bad parts, but in the end, I love life. Every night before I sleep, I ask God for three more years, so that I can make it an even one hundred. Then I recite a blessing that my mother gave me when I left her in Poland. It was the last time I saw her. The blessing is much more powerful in Hebrew, but it says: ‘Wherever you go, may people always recognize that you have a beautiful heart.’”


credit: Humans of New York

it’s finally close to the end for Thursday- (where did the week go?) but i’m not complaining. i feel like i need the weekend to unwind and clean up a few things (a lot of things) in my apartment; but i’m now here waiting for my post-colonialism korean cinema class, thinking that i should probably do some readings before the screening of the movie 서편제(translated to English as Peppermint Candy), but of course did otherwise and ended up checking facebook and procrastinating my precious time away.

however i ran across one of these HONY posts. side note: i’ve been hearing a lot of people say HONY up to the point where i thought “wow, that’s such an interesting name for a blog… hone-ey” when i found out that it was actually a short for Humans of New York, i could’ve sworn i saw that much anticipated “Aha!” bubble squeezing out of my scalp. i was just too slow.

anyways, back to the reason why i’m writing this blogpost at the first place: i was touched by the story of that old woman. there’s a lot of things that strikes me so hard, like the fact that she never met her mother ever again after that goodbye. i personally couldn’t imagine being deprived of meeting my mom for the rest of my life. but the three little words that made me think was this: “i love life” and how she asked God to give her three more years for her to live and experience life.

the problem is this. What if I end up loving life too much? What if we all end up loving life too much that we forget that living is not the end but a means of achieving the end? Having been brought up in a catholic family, i believe in heaven, and of a life after death. but as a child (and being deprived of sweets and all those things that are bad for your health) i have always pictured heaven as consisting of ice cream mountains and liquid chocolate rivers and edible flowers growing at the sides of the river, which can double up as a cup at times where you want to drink that delectable chocolat. and then when i was a teen i realized how a picture of heaven that i have is so much like earth, and more so, filled with earthly pleasures that i wanted as a child. how can i be so confident what heaven would look like? if i would say now that i love to breathe (no duh, right? who doesn’t like to breathe.), how can i be so confident that heaven would even have air?

i have always had my faith installed in me by default, but at the same time now that i’m older, i have kept that faith as a choice of my own though there are some things that i have always questioned implicitly. this is the first time that i’m writing about it.

what if we end up loving life too much? what if at the end we love life more than we love God? what if in the process of trying to live life to the fullest we end up doing things which are sacrilegious? (hypothetically things like sex before marriage, etc. etc.) i might have worded the last question a bit too poorly because of course you don’t have to be inclined to do things which are religiously forbidden to live life to the fullest, but that is just a gist that i wanted to throw out. as a catholic, i have kept my faith, but i wouldn’t lie and say that i have always believed in them. i have questioned them over and over again, and i think it is normal, for me and also for other people to always question their faith- in that they try to consciously understand the path that they choose, instead of blindly accepting what they were given.

what if we love life too much that we sin? 


A Film About COFFEE

WOW. just wow.

that was the only coherent thought i can hear from the thousand others jumbled in my head.

i just got back from my first ever movie première, and lo and behold, it was a documentary on none other than COFFEE. my holy grail drink (aside from red wine). now ain’t that surprising.

the documentary was instigated by a coffee and cafe blogger “Cafe French Toast” in collaboration with the Avocado & Coconut Production; it tells us more on the philosophy of coffee, where it originally came from and the labour behind those beans that later on became such a huge and accessible commodity to us.

the most profound thing that i learned was this: coffee is made three times from the day it was produced.

the first was in the plantation where coffee is (in rare cases now) handpicked and cleaned. just manual labour involving earth, water and a lot of hands. but that is the first step to the production of what is really REALLY good coffee.

the second is in the roaster where the beans turn from green to brown. whether it is a light roast or a dark roast, this is where all of that is decided. (i have always been opting for a dark roast because that is very similar to what Indonesian coffee tastes like, but apparently coffee quality is much more transparent in light roasted coffee beans, so i might try that)

and the third most tangible process, is of course in brewing the coffee. once the coffee beans were grounded, they are either straight up brewed to make drip/filtered coffee slash cappuccino if you add on frothed milk, or espresso if pressed. this is the biggest misconception that most people (including myself before watching this documentary) have- that good coffee is made through this process, except that it’s not. well, it does to a certain extent, but that would only be because you have a good barista making you coffee; that comes down to skill instead of quality.

basically the whole idea is to not rid the coffee of its original flavour from when it was just freshly picked. the film told us that the quality of coffee is there the instant the cherry was picked. it cannot be developed to be of a higher quality, instead we can only avoid in stripping those coffee beans off its goodness during the whole process.
IMG_4045-0.JPG(coffee tasting prior to film screening)

of course, there’s a lot of controversy behind the philosophy of coffee and coffee labour, or at least, i think there are a lot of contradictions in the process of producing coffee, and especially in the process of marketing coffee. because by making coffee a commodity we are making these beans to be reproduce-able, copiable and consumable at any time of any day. a lot of the times coffee labourer are paid very much below the cost of production, barely hanging on in making a living. also in that way, coffee is more of a good than it is an art. i remember being a child,  trying to grasp the handle of the spice cupboard that smells a little like coffee tang. it slowly became a kitchen staple, something that you reach for every morning before you go to work. (or at least what my father reaches for every morning before he goes to work); but not making it a commercial good will also impact negatively on coffee farmers, especially those who have depended on coffee and the market that it provides for subsistence.

now that i’m living in Montreal (where there are hundreds of millions of cafes, trust me) coffee has basically been a lifestyle. something that i gravitate towards every single day even though i do not necessarily need that daily dose of caffeine fix. furthermore, the likes of being a student who stayed up all night trying to catch a deadline that seemingly zoomed by with the speed of light makes coffee soar up to a whole new other level than just being a part of lifestyle. it became a need.

i have been enjoying coffee as a commodity, and so far it was good ! but probably it is time for me to enjoy coffee in a less-economical way, and try (during those times where i feel a little bit more relaxed) to treat it less as a drinkable substance, but as an art.