i could still be, what i want to be, what i said i was when you met me.

just a short post on a Friday night.

it’s a day after American thanksgiving, and i am way beyond stressed. after not going home for two days, and constantly being in the library, i have developed a fatigue like i have never encountered before. i admire people who have the motivation and the strength to pull through these exhaustion.

i guess i was just too tired, and too scared, and too nervous that things will not go my way.

i think i’m just too greedy, wanting everything all at once while simultaneously not getting them.

i know i’m not alone, and that there are other people also feeling what i’m feeling right now, but at the very least i hope my future children will not go through what i’m going through. i hope they do not have that big of an ambition, just enough to sustain them through life and do what makes them happy, i hope they will never have to suffer from the panic attacks that i can feel are coming at me in waves at this very moment.

it’s a horrible feeling.

signature

115: now playing stormy indie sirens

eccedentesiast.

when he walked away she could hear faint music hanging on her earlobes

he brought along with him waist deep clumsy arpeggios.

now it’s quiet, and it’s daunting

silence has always been something that is open to interpretation, and that’s scary

she stood in the intersection waiting for him to walk back to her and say that he’s sorry

he didn’t even look back.

signature

404 – constant early morning inspirations

she is a child that paints with her toes and writes with her elbows.

very much she is a quiet girl lingering in the shadows

uncaring of both attention or dismissal.

her words can shelter you from the cold winter sun and her paintings cry-

her paintings cry in watercolour that spills over the canvas and easel, absorbed by the floor to create marble

but when forced upon a page staring her blank in the face

with her wrists shackled by a pair of determined hands that needs

she withers like a sleepy plant

for she creates not for display or verdict, but for herself

unbound she vomits glitters onto paper

she thrives in the wilderness.

signature

it’s 230 in the morning and i’m still awake.

i’m having my friday night- saturday early morning off having a drama marathon on my own, and one thing led to another… soon enough it was like having flashbacks of the times that we spent together.

as cheesy, and probably as romantically revolting as it sounds, i keep on remembering his smile- and he’s not exactly the type of person who can smile, you know. he cringes in front of the camera, and he doesn’t really take a proper picture without pulling his… cringe. but he actually smiles okay when he means it.

i miss him. and i’ve gone through many missing-people-moments that i know better than to deny it. there was this time when we laughed at the facebook messages his cousin sent him- his cousin cannot really speak English that well, but he tried, and it was funny. there is also this picture of the both of us, that we took while waiting for the fireworks to start in Toronto. that was the only, sort of genuine, smiling picture that i have of the both of us, and at least to me he looked sincerely happy.

but was he though?

it doesn’t really matter right now… for now, i’m restraining myself with all the fibers in my body to not text message him. alas, 230 AM decisions are never the best decisions anyway.

and maybe missing him like this too, is also a part of the process of moving on.

signature

(nov 4)

just a short post: i felt very disturbed during the two hours of class. it was post-colonialism Korean cinema and as soon as the class was over i bolted out. i didn’t even care about saying goodbye to my classmates i just had to get the hell out of there. maybe it was just me being too sensitive about it but it felt like i didn’t belong. i mean everyone must’ve felt like the stupidest person in the classroom at one point of their academic career, but i felt so intellectually insecure up to the point where i’m having thoughts that the reason why i am not, i guess, well-versed in accepting and absorbing the materials in class was because i’m not Korean. this is just a generalization on my part; not everyone in my class felt this sense of alienation of ‘not belonging’ but for me it was bordering microaggression. i hated today’s class.

(nov 5) update:

after writing that post i ranted a little more to Yusi who was having a fever. stopped to ask how she was and ranted a little more. i was an insensitive little bitch. she went home early (her cold probably worsened because of me) and i felt bad for complaining of my mental insecurities to a friend who is not even physically fit. after she went home, i decided i needed to calm down, stood up and drank a whole glass of ice cold water. shivering a little when i came back, i made myself do the weekly blog post for my other film course and was done in an hour. i realize two things while disciplining myself: first- time is unsympathetic. in the times that i was angry over something that now seems almost trivial, i could’ve gotten over that week’s blog post once and for all. second- i should be able to decide for myself how others will see me. sometimes you just have to amp up the confidence and set up your own definition of you. because other people will judge whether you like it or not, but i guess what you could do is to direct a little how it is that they’re going to judge you.

i felt so proud of myself.

signature

starbucks red cups.

IMG_4435.JPG

having to be frugal these past few weeks (months really) to save up for those things that i really wanted (and i want a lot of things), i didn’t frequent any cafes when normally i would already be going to several different ones in within a week.

but today was the first day of these red cups and i don’t know why i’ve always been so partial to these precious, otherwise plastic, red cups. it was probably for the very obvious reason that it means we’re a little closer to Christmas, which is hands down, my favourite time of the year. i’m not going to lie though… Christmas has been a little lonely these past three years.

i’ve always dreamt about having a white Christmas, and i was ecstatic my first Christmas in Montreal when the ground is literally covered in snow that reaches up to your waist, but the initial spectacle of snow inevitably fades away, and i wished my family could be there with me- going to the church together like how we used to, and have a nice family dinner after. now that i think of it, it’s been a year and a half since the time when it was still the five of us. now that my dad is in another town for work, my middle sister in Sydney, and me in Montreal, it’s only my mom and my youngest sister living in our house back in Bogor. and it’s not like i’m not hearing about it… she’s complaining about it A LOT. but i understand. it must be equally lonely for her just how it’s lonely for me here.

when i was walking to the Starbucks just down McGill College Ave., i saw that the trees are already decorated by Christmas lights. and in that moment, i almost had this very selfish greed of not just wanting, but acutely desiring, my family to be here; and Keidan to be here instead of being in Istanbul, mbak Rachel to be here instead of being in Sauga, and for Jordan to be here despite our recent break up. (because who am i kidding, i do still care about him, even though it isn’t that strong of a feeling now.) why are the people i love so far away from me.

on a more neutral note, i feel like writing a lot recently (which is a good thing); i can feel my writing streak coming back, thankfully, in what i call my period of ‘rest’ just post-midterm but pre-finals. of course, i shouldn’t lose myself in writing and forget about my work because that will always be my priority as a student, but it’s nice to come out and dedicate an hour before class to drink a nice cup of soy latte and write about the things that matters to me. it’ll keep me sane throughout the upcoming cold and dreary months.

does anyone else think that freshly made soy latte tastes like warm liquid ice cream? yes? no? at least for me it is (: just a thought that i want to put out there.

happy monday everyone.

stay warm.

signature

“don’t worry love, i’m not going to let you starve.”

it was such an alienating experience recalling this back. it felt like it’s been forever.

when was it again? i think it was last summer, when we were on the canoe-camping trip. it’s sad to think that that weekend, (and the Toronto trip afterwards) were the most spontaneous my life has been this year. sad but true.

if i closed my eyes and think hard, i probably would still remember a decent number of things he said to me when we first started. but i’m just here at one thirty in the morning waiting for my black varnish to dry on my nails because, even though halloweek isn’t exactly a favourite holiday of mine, it didn’t feel like it was long enough- and i’m tired. i don’t feel like thinking too hard. all i want to do is wait for my jasmine tea to steep enough for it to reach a good and fragrant bitterness. and write. and reminisce.

now that i think of it, a lot of our conversation revolves around food. aside from the classic “have you eaten?” or “what did you eat?” or “oh, you ate with your friends? how was it?” during our short-term long-distance relationship, he once asked me how much i loved him, and i answered, “this much.” when i asked him back the same question, he told me, “i’m sharing my food with you. that is how much i love you.” we were sitting in front of the burner on our last night of camping, and we were eating instant noodles together after a long day of canoeing and swimming in the lake- add to that, in the dark, because he hated how the light attracted mosquitoes. and i laughed at what he said, because at that time it was somehow relevant.

i wouldn’t say it was real love… maybe something more than ‘like’ but certainly not ‘love'; it could be due to the fact that the L word was forced out of us too fast… by whom, i don’t exactly know. but ‘love’ has always been hastily mentioned like it was nothing, and i knew that ever since the bus ride home from the camping trip- probably even then, i knew that what happened five days ago would eventually happen. just probably quickened by distance, and everything that fell in between.

the reason why i am reminiscing? i don’t exactly know. i am in the process of moving on, and obviously teetering in the edge of a dangerous zone like this is not helping, but a part of me wanted to be a sentimental bitch and indulge in nostalgia. the first day after hurts, for sure. but it was most likely because it was recent. the next day, and the day after that, though, wasn’t at all that bad. was it because i was just preoccupied? or was it because he is far away, distance being both a reason and an antidote? maybe it’s a good thing. but everything started to feel like it was a dream, like it was not real to begin with. it was as if i was sliding in between parallel universes, where he was real in another world, but not here.

and even for me, it’s funny to think that i’m actually doing this to myself because i think i’m forgetting him too fast, and moving on too early. probably the only people who can identify with the nonsense that i’m writing right now are people who have been through these themselves; but regardless of this, and all these complex idiosyncrasies that i can’t exactly put into words, being in a relationship with him was easy, and if there is this indescribable form of love that fits in the category of our affection, we did love each other in that version; he remembered my birthday, which makes one of us, and at one point, he was exactly what i wanted. and i’m really really happy, and grateful, that he happened in my life.

signature