They have only known each other for two hours.
It was eleven o'clock, and a gang of teenagers was getting ready for the night. Collared shirts, high heels, scents of perfume, gelled hair, glitters of lipstick, cigarettes, bare shoulders, cash for booze. The night was young, and the party was ready to begin.
She came with her friends, and he came with his. They were introduced. Names were exchanged; mere names, because knowing one's name could actually be the beginning of everything, no matter how a rose would smell as sweet even if it wasn't called a rose. They shook hands, one innocent little touch which meant nothing but formality. There wasn't any spark, nor exceptional first impression, nor bad intention. The introductory part was simple, insignificant, hardly memorable.
In the car, the two barely talked. They sat apart, a friend was in between. The only words spoken were when he asked what school she went to, in which she replied nonchalantly. They got busy with their other friends, with their own thoughts and excitement of the night.
They arrived in the club at midnight. The music was loud, lights flashed and swirled over smoke-filled heads. Not many people was down at the dance floor; the club was only warming up. It was quite a long time after they all sat down waiting for the atmosphere to build up when finally the waiter arrived with hands full of a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pitcher of coke, and several glasses. Excitements aroused as the whole set was put on the table. They were like a bunch of thirsty sandmen finding liquid of salvation they have longed for a long time.
A friend asked her if she wanted to get drunk quickly. She said yes. The friend continued to pour the tasty bottled liquid into a glass and handed it to her. She drank it straight up without coke, pure drops of heaven and hell combined. Four gulps and she asked for more.
And suddenly the world seemed to spin faster and everything turned lighter, lovelier, wilder. It was a big playground and she felt like a feather ready to explore every inch of the space. She loved the feeling of weightlessness; how her brain could eliminate unnecessary thoughts and focus only on controlling her body to move and grind to the right beat.
The whole bunch of them were dancing in a circle when she decided to turn her body around. She became face to face with the boy she had only met a while ago. They danced together with a distance between them. The distance was called I-only-know-your-name-and-nothing-else. It didn't take a long time for the distance to close in along with their state of drunkenness, and the next thing she knew was her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her hips as their bodies touched and moved in one rhythm.
It also didn't take a long time for the distance in between their lips to completely vanish. They were full of passion, full of alcohol, full of curiosity as their tongues intertwined and craved for one another. Pure lust had taken in place, and Lucifer shouted in triumph. Later on in the morning, when she was sober, she would try her best to remember who started first, yet it never worked. Not that it mattered anyway.
She wasn't sure of how long it went on. Their Parade of Lust was stopped by a friend who told them to stop snogging and get ready to get home. She asked what time it was, her friend said 4.30. She was amazed at the fact that the time they spent making out was more than the time they spent with their lips apart.
As they all got in the car, she realized she wasn't as drunk anymore. He sat next to her and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his fingertips caressing her bare shoulder. She felt warm, composed, contented. Probably way too comfortable for a guy she was sober with for only two hours. And somehow she knew he was feeling the same way.
And that was when something magical happened. He bent his head down and kissed her. Not rough, not impatiently, not full of lust as before - but with feelings. It was exquisite, smooth, slow, almost everlasting. The Kiss With Feelings went on several times, and this time she felt a slight tingle in her stomach every time his lips touched hers. In the span of the moment, she could easily believe that they were lovers instead of strangers.
In the morning, she woke up finding his fingers in between hers.
She tiptoed out. Good, sober, angelic. And that was the end of that.
After all, they had only known each other for two hours.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Girl Who Dreamt Of The Moon
Once upon the time, there was a little girl. Every night she sat by her window and stared longingly at the moon. In her eyes it was the brightest object out in the night sky, and there was a reason for it. She believed that the moon was only radiant to whoever’s in love with it, since people who didn’t mind much of its existence would find it dull compared to the flirty stars. Thus, her being in love with the moon made its extravagance a thousand times more charming and unbeatable, and she found herself becoming more and more adrift in its beauty every passing day.
But always came the time when the moon disappeared and its throne got taken over by the sun. She found that situation strongly unacceptable, because then she had to wait for half a whole day to be able to see the moon again. Her excuse was simple: When you’re in love, a minute waiting feels like a thousand years dying. She began to think of a way to never let go of the moon.
She came up with a brilliant solution: She had to, just had to, unite with it. If they were together, nothing would tear them apart, not even the rotation of the earth or the cycle of the universe. There won’t be sun to interfere. There won’t even be days and night, because the moon would hold no other existence except of hers, and nothing else really mattered.
Hence, she tried everything. She sneaked into a NASA rocket satellite, she tried heaving the moon closer using a powerful magnetic source, she hired architects to build a tunnel to the surface of the moon, she went to an old wizard deep in the swamp and begged for him to magically transport her there, she jumped on a giant-sized trampoline and wished that she’d leap straight to the moon. Yet her efforts were fruitless, and at the end she was left with a handful of hopeless thoughts.
She was so desperate to get to the moon that one night something so indescribably wonderful happened. The moon suddenly waltzed off from its place up in the night sky, and towards the earth! It came further lower and lower, until she could be completely sure that it was approaching her. The wind was cold and ruthless, yet her heart warmed up like a bowl of soup in a saucepan and her eyes lit up like candles during an electricity blackout. And the moon was still gracefully moving closer toward her window.
At last they were face to face, apart only by her window frame.
“Would you like to come with me?” Asked the moon.
She held her breath in and whispered, “Yes.”
She began to climb out of her window. A vile thought suddenly flashed through her airy mind and she couldn’t help but to ask loudly, “Wait, this isn’t a dream is it?”
“Of course not, Sweetheart,” Smiled the moon.
She was ensured. She put one delighted step on the moon.
And that was exactly right when she woke up from her nap.
But always came the time when the moon disappeared and its throne got taken over by the sun. She found that situation strongly unacceptable, because then she had to wait for half a whole day to be able to see the moon again. Her excuse was simple: When you’re in love, a minute waiting feels like a thousand years dying. She began to think of a way to never let go of the moon.
She came up with a brilliant solution: She had to, just had to, unite with it. If they were together, nothing would tear them apart, not even the rotation of the earth or the cycle of the universe. There won’t be sun to interfere. There won’t even be days and night, because the moon would hold no other existence except of hers, and nothing else really mattered.
Hence, she tried everything. She sneaked into a NASA rocket satellite, she tried heaving the moon closer using a powerful magnetic source, she hired architects to build a tunnel to the surface of the moon, she went to an old wizard deep in the swamp and begged for him to magically transport her there, she jumped on a giant-sized trampoline and wished that she’d leap straight to the moon. Yet her efforts were fruitless, and at the end she was left with a handful of hopeless thoughts.
She was so desperate to get to the moon that one night something so indescribably wonderful happened. The moon suddenly waltzed off from its place up in the night sky, and towards the earth! It came further lower and lower, until she could be completely sure that it was approaching her. The wind was cold and ruthless, yet her heart warmed up like a bowl of soup in a saucepan and her eyes lit up like candles during an electricity blackout. And the moon was still gracefully moving closer toward her window.
At last they were face to face, apart only by her window frame.
“Would you like to come with me?” Asked the moon.
She held her breath in and whispered, “Yes.”
She began to climb out of her window. A vile thought suddenly flashed through her airy mind and she couldn’t help but to ask loudly, “Wait, this isn’t a dream is it?”
“Of course not, Sweetheart,” Smiled the moon.
She was ensured. She put one delighted step on the moon.
And that was exactly right when she woke up from her nap.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Girl Who Had A Hole In Her Chest Where Her Spongy Heart Used To Be.
Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She had the unimaginable disease of a Sponge Heart; which is the ability to absorb every little thing seriously and be emotionally attached to them. When such thing was diagnosed, the doctor resigned from the case out of shock and desperation to find the cure. Her parents travelled across the globe and went from one internationally acclaimed doctor to another, yet their efforts were fruitless.
After much discussion and recalculation, her parents decided to let her be. They could only hope that instead of being a fatal flaw, that heart condition of hers could give her benefits such as the beauty of consideration, compassion, gentleness, and care toward others in order to promote world peace and reduce poverty and famine.
As she grew up, things were looking remarkably good, even for herself. Because she took everything seriously, that made her a thinker, a hard worker, a helping saint to any misfortune that befalls the human race. And because she was emotionally attached to every little thing, that made her affectionate, full of sympathy and understanding, an angel to the eyes of the loathed, a divine example of sheer benevolence.
Until came the day her heart gets broken by a boy. The feeling was completely new to her, for she had never felt such pain. It was exactly like somebody had just tore open her ribs, yank her spongy heart out, and plunge it into a pit of ice cold water filled with poisonous venom. It was prickly, stabbing, agonizing, yet also numbing. Her sponge heart kept on absorbing and digesting the pain; she couldn’t get over it.
Because she took everything seriously, to her it was the end of the world. She had never felt so ugly and unwanted before, and in her eyes everything was beginning to crumble down into debris. And because she was too emotionally attached to such matter, she couldn’t help but to replay thousands of remorseful questions in her head; what exactly went wrong, how did I let this happen, how did he let this happen, how long is this going to last, why oh why the cruelty?
Overtime, as she kept falling down the bottomless well of despair, her sadness turned into anger. She was angry at such misfortune that had caused her inability to crawl back into space in the first place: her heart condition. She began to wonder, what if she was born with a normal heart designed to easily forgive and forget. What if she had a simple, solid heart with limited capacity and also an out vessel to exit some unwanted feelings? Things would’ve been easier that way.
Therefore, she decided to cut her heart out. One night, she sneaked into the operation room of a hospital, grabbed some knives, scissors, tweezers, and whatnot. She sliced open her chest, carefully cutting off the blood vessels and muscles that connected her heart to her body. And very slowly but steadily, she removed her heart, put it on the table, and stared at it for a long time. It really was spongy. It was weird. She felt much happier not having it inside her.
From then on, she had a hole in her chest where her spongy heart used to be.
After much discussion and recalculation, her parents decided to let her be. They could only hope that instead of being a fatal flaw, that heart condition of hers could give her benefits such as the beauty of consideration, compassion, gentleness, and care toward others in order to promote world peace and reduce poverty and famine.
As she grew up, things were looking remarkably good, even for herself. Because she took everything seriously, that made her a thinker, a hard worker, a helping saint to any misfortune that befalls the human race. And because she was emotionally attached to every little thing, that made her affectionate, full of sympathy and understanding, an angel to the eyes of the loathed, a divine example of sheer benevolence.
Until came the day her heart gets broken by a boy. The feeling was completely new to her, for she had never felt such pain. It was exactly like somebody had just tore open her ribs, yank her spongy heart out, and plunge it into a pit of ice cold water filled with poisonous venom. It was prickly, stabbing, agonizing, yet also numbing. Her sponge heart kept on absorbing and digesting the pain; she couldn’t get over it.
Because she took everything seriously, to her it was the end of the world. She had never felt so ugly and unwanted before, and in her eyes everything was beginning to crumble down into debris. And because she was too emotionally attached to such matter, she couldn’t help but to replay thousands of remorseful questions in her head; what exactly went wrong, how did I let this happen, how did he let this happen, how long is this going to last, why oh why the cruelty?
Overtime, as she kept falling down the bottomless well of despair, her sadness turned into anger. She was angry at such misfortune that had caused her inability to crawl back into space in the first place: her heart condition. She began to wonder, what if she was born with a normal heart designed to easily forgive and forget. What if she had a simple, solid heart with limited capacity and also an out vessel to exit some unwanted feelings? Things would’ve been easier that way.
Therefore, she decided to cut her heart out. One night, she sneaked into the operation room of a hospital, grabbed some knives, scissors, tweezers, and whatnot. She sliced open her chest, carefully cutting off the blood vessels and muscles that connected her heart to her body. And very slowly but steadily, she removed her heart, put it on the table, and stared at it for a long time. It really was spongy. It was weird. She felt much happier not having it inside her.
From then on, she had a hole in her chest where her spongy heart used to be.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Happiness.
I got accepted into 2 of the 3 universities i applied in. As of the 3rd one, which is University of Indonesia (the number 1 uni in this country), the entrance result hasn't came up yet. As odd as it seems, I so truly hope I don't get in. I have my own reasons, one of them being it is located in Jakarta. One more year living in this goddamn city and under the same goddamn roof as my parents and I'll go nuts.
Anyways, the 2 universities are:
Bandung Institute of Technology, faculty of Geo Engineering. I failed in getting into architecture. But who cares, this uni's still on the top 3 and ranks number 1 for all its technological studies in Indonesia.
University of Padjadjaran, faculty of Psychology. I took Science Studies in highschool, and most unis in Indonesia categorize Psychology as a Social Study. Therefore, unless I took extra study hours to master Social Studies, I wouldn't be able to get into Psychology major. This uni here is one of the very few unis that mostly accept students of Science Studies in its Faculty of Psychology, because the subjects rely more on the brain pattern of those who study Science in highschool. Plus, this uni's still on the top 10, I think.
I don't mean to boast, but toldja I was gonna be glorious ;)
Anyways, the 2 universities are:
Bandung Institute of Technology, faculty of Geo Engineering. I failed in getting into architecture. But who cares, this uni's still on the top 3 and ranks number 1 for all its technological studies in Indonesia.
University of Padjadjaran, faculty of Psychology. I took Science Studies in highschool, and most unis in Indonesia categorize Psychology as a Social Study. Therefore, unless I took extra study hours to master Social Studies, I wouldn't be able to get into Psychology major. This uni here is one of the very few unis that mostly accept students of Science Studies in its Faculty of Psychology, because the subjects rely more on the brain pattern of those who study Science in highschool. Plus, this uni's still on the top 10, I think.I don't mean to boast, but toldja I was gonna be glorious ;)
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Dear Asshole,
It’s almost midnight and here I am, lying wide awake on my bed, thinking what exactly went wrong. I ponder on several obvious questions: Haven’t my gestures been obvious enough to make you realize how I really feel about you? Are you just too naïve that you’re not able to read my signs? Or maybe you did read them, but you refuse to give back because you’re simply not attracted? How do you honestly feel about me?
I’ve never been one of an expert to read signals, and yours aren’t exactly the easy type to understand. Your gestures are vague, subtle, yet also unpredictable and highly indecipherable. It feels like I have to screw my hopeless brain around to break down everything you did and said to finally reach the end conclusion of your inmost feeling which is hidden deep beneath.
I recount every little sweet gesture that had happened in the past: The gentle stroke on my hair, the little squeeze on my fingers, the random message asking me how I am, the midnight chats filled with pretty words and enthusiasm to be in each other’s company… Those were the things that constantly gave me hopes. Those were the things that made me believe our feelings are mutual, everything but a one way street or a dead end, accepted and positively responded.
Then I recount every little unpleasant gesture: The way you always spelled my name wrong, the other short midnight chats where it seemed like you didn’t even feel like talking… Suddenly all lingering hopes are crushed into bits and pieces. The lights I’ve taken refuge in before are dimmed. The fulfilling warmth is replaced by a bitter cold, like the changing of a softly beaming dusk into a dead silence of the night.
You keep repeating those conflicting signals. After a while I begin to see a pattern: Once you get my hopes up, you’ll manage to succeed in getting them down again, and so on. You’ve trapped me into a vicious circle of never-ending uncertainties. I may know your pattern by now, but I still can’t predict what kind of message is it exactly you’re trying to send out.
The worst thing is now I don’t even know what to do. I’m not sure whether I should keep going forward, because I’m scared that you’ve never felt the same way in the first place. But I’m also unwilling to give up just yet, afraid that I might be wasting something very valuable yet sill unseen, which is the possibility of a returned feeling.
If only you’d speak it out. I need a certainty, an assurance, no more than several words. The road is only diverged into two; either “I’m into you as well” or “I’m simply not into you.”
It’s already midnight and here I am, lying wide awake on my bed, aching from how much I miss you. Aching from the fact that I haven’t got you quite figured out yet, furthermore from the fact that I probably never will.
Aching from the mere possibility of a broken-heart.
I’ve never been one of an expert to read signals, and yours aren’t exactly the easy type to understand. Your gestures are vague, subtle, yet also unpredictable and highly indecipherable. It feels like I have to screw my hopeless brain around to break down everything you did and said to finally reach the end conclusion of your inmost feeling which is hidden deep beneath.
I recount every little sweet gesture that had happened in the past: The gentle stroke on my hair, the little squeeze on my fingers, the random message asking me how I am, the midnight chats filled with pretty words and enthusiasm to be in each other’s company… Those were the things that constantly gave me hopes. Those were the things that made me believe our feelings are mutual, everything but a one way street or a dead end, accepted and positively responded.
Then I recount every little unpleasant gesture: The way you always spelled my name wrong, the other short midnight chats where it seemed like you didn’t even feel like talking… Suddenly all lingering hopes are crushed into bits and pieces. The lights I’ve taken refuge in before are dimmed. The fulfilling warmth is replaced by a bitter cold, like the changing of a softly beaming dusk into a dead silence of the night.
You keep repeating those conflicting signals. After a while I begin to see a pattern: Once you get my hopes up, you’ll manage to succeed in getting them down again, and so on. You’ve trapped me into a vicious circle of never-ending uncertainties. I may know your pattern by now, but I still can’t predict what kind of message is it exactly you’re trying to send out.
The worst thing is now I don’t even know what to do. I’m not sure whether I should keep going forward, because I’m scared that you’ve never felt the same way in the first place. But I’m also unwilling to give up just yet, afraid that I might be wasting something very valuable yet sill unseen, which is the possibility of a returned feeling.
If only you’d speak it out. I need a certainty, an assurance, no more than several words. The road is only diverged into two; either “I’m into you as well” or “I’m simply not into you.”
It’s already midnight and here I am, lying wide awake on my bed, aching from how much I miss you. Aching from the fact that I haven’t got you quite figured out yet, furthermore from the fact that I probably never will.
Aching from the mere possibility of a broken-heart.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
I hate you with all my life.
Dear the one single person I hate the most in the whole wide world,
The day you die, I’m going to scream HALELUYA with tears of joy and unrestrained delights. I won’t even be there at your funeral; I’d be too busy having fun in my new-found life without you fucking with it. I won’t even say a word of prayer. Well, except for that HALELUYA I mentioned above, although not directed to you, but as a sign of MY victory. And from that day on, as your deceased body rot into the earth, every single memory of you will also be erased from my mind, because I don’t want traces of your unwanted existence lingering about my brain. And then I will descend into a long life full of ease, freedom, and happiness, simply because you’re no longer a part of it.
With dignified regards,
Your ultimate hater
The day you die, I’m going to scream HALELUYA with tears of joy and unrestrained delights. I won’t even be there at your funeral; I’d be too busy having fun in my new-found life without you fucking with it. I won’t even say a word of prayer. Well, except for that HALELUYA I mentioned above, although not directed to you, but as a sign of MY victory. And from that day on, as your deceased body rot into the earth, every single memory of you will also be erased from my mind, because I don’t want traces of your unwanted existence lingering about my brain. And then I will descend into a long life full of ease, freedom, and happiness, simply because you’re no longer a part of it.
With dignified regards,
Your ultimate hater
The most stupidest conversation ever.
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
fuck man i feel so sorry for bella
adilla caulfield says:
why whats up
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i talked to bella at rick's party
and she was like sad
adilla caulfield says:
sad abt emilio?
dw man she got edward and jacob
lmao
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
yeh sad abt emilio
LMFAO wtf
adilla caulfield says:
omg dont tell me u did not get the joke
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i didnt.
adilla caulfield says:
WTFFFF
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
is that sumthin to do with twilight?
adilla caulfield says:
ARE U FUCKING DUMB
YESSSSS
JESUS
ok anyways
did u comfort her
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i got that
but da joke wasnt funny
lol
adilla caulfield says:
hahahahah i know who wouldve laughed over twilight jokes anyway
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
HHHHHHHHHHH
I GOT IT NOW
COS HER NAME IS BELLA
LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
HAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAH
adilla caulfield says:
OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
LMFAO bro
adilla caulfield says:
THIS IS THE STUPIDEST CONVERSATION I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE
fuck man i feel so sorry for bella
adilla caulfield says:
why whats up
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i talked to bella at rick's party
and she was like sad
adilla caulfield says:
sad abt emilio?
dw man she got edward and jacob
lmao
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
yeh sad abt emilio
LMFAO wtf
adilla caulfield says:
omg dont tell me u did not get the joke
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i didnt.
adilla caulfield says:
WTFFFF
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
is that sumthin to do with twilight?
adilla caulfield says:
ARE U FUCKING DUMB
YESSSSS
JESUS
ok anyways
did u comfort her
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
i got that
but da joke wasnt funny
lol
adilla caulfield says:
hahahahah i know who wouldve laughed over twilight jokes anyway
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
HHHHHHHHHHH
I GOT IT NOW
COS HER NAME IS BELLA
LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
HAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAH
adilla caulfield says:
OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
- B - Just hit play and watch my life fall apart.r u satisfied? says:
LMFAO bro
adilla caulfield says:
THIS IS THE STUPIDEST CONVERSATION I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE
Monday, April 12, 2010
Low expectations, behold.
For this week only, I'm scared of the coming of Thursday. Thursday brings an announcement. The kind of announcement that will determine my future, my fate, my sanity: University entrance test results. (Bandung Institution of Technology to be precise, the one place I've been longing to study in my whole student life)
Just now a friend told me that the results are gonna come up on Thursday. As soon as I heard that I felt nervous, anxious, scared shitless. It was like somebody just told me the world's going to end on Thursday instead of December 21st, 2012. Or the world MIGHT end on Thursday, which is even worse because uncertainties with a possible hint of bad news isn't exactly everybody's piece of heaven.
So here I am, sweats dripping down my balls, cold shivers running through my spine, restless thoughts jigging around my wit. Some people told me to pray, but I don't want to look stupid in front of God, thank you very much. Honestly, I seldom pray, only when I'm told to and I'm not able to refuse (my Dad is a super devoted Muslim). So if I start praying just because I need a miracle to happen, not because the whole initiative comes from the very depth of my own consciousness, I'm afraid that will make me a hypocrite, a conformist.
Some other told me to keep up the positive thinking. I said, how the fuck can I stay positive when everyday shit happens, people die from war and famine, old fat priests molest virgin little girls, corruptors stay out of jail while licking their fingers off their loot, Miley Cyrus exists, and all the glittery rainbows and singing mermaids are crumbling down into a pile of messy debris we all call humanity...
Anyways, apparently this one friend of mine came up with the solution as how to stay calm during uncertainties with a possible hint of bad news (in this case, Thursday). Ever since she said those magical sentences a few weeks ago, they kept ringing through my ears until now, "You, know, being a pessimist isn't such a bad thing after all. 'Coz the less you expect, the lower chance of disappointment you behold."
Enough said, i will keep my expectations down until Thursday, and also any living days forward. This way, if i get accepted, unexpected happiness will I richly indulge myself in. But if i don't get accepted, I won't even think of attempting suicide. Why should I, when I'm already prepared to be disappointed from the very start :)
Just now a friend told me that the results are gonna come up on Thursday. As soon as I heard that I felt nervous, anxious, scared shitless. It was like somebody just told me the world's going to end on Thursday instead of December 21st, 2012. Or the world MIGHT end on Thursday, which is even worse because uncertainties with a possible hint of bad news isn't exactly everybody's piece of heaven.
So here I am, sweats dripping down my balls, cold shivers running through my spine, restless thoughts jigging around my wit. Some people told me to pray, but I don't want to look stupid in front of God, thank you very much. Honestly, I seldom pray, only when I'm told to and I'm not able to refuse (my Dad is a super devoted Muslim). So if I start praying just because I need a miracle to happen, not because the whole initiative comes from the very depth of my own consciousness, I'm afraid that will make me a hypocrite, a conformist.
Some other told me to keep up the positive thinking. I said, how the fuck can I stay positive when everyday shit happens, people die from war and famine, old fat priests molest virgin little girls, corruptors stay out of jail while licking their fingers off their loot, Miley Cyrus exists, and all the glittery rainbows and singing mermaids are crumbling down into a pile of messy debris we all call humanity...
Anyways, apparently this one friend of mine came up with the solution as how to stay calm during uncertainties with a possible hint of bad news (in this case, Thursday). Ever since she said those magical sentences a few weeks ago, they kept ringing through my ears until now, "You, know, being a pessimist isn't such a bad thing after all. 'Coz the less you expect, the lower chance of disappointment you behold."
Enough said, i will keep my expectations down until Thursday, and also any living days forward. This way, if i get accepted, unexpected happiness will I richly indulge myself in. But if i don't get accepted, I won't even think of attempting suicide. Why should I, when I'm already prepared to be disappointed from the very start :)
Friday, February 12, 2010
Caffeine makes my brain go round.
The only thing that keeps me awake prior to the National Final Examination days is a simple magical substance called Caffeine. Two shots everyday, double if needed. That way I'm able to regain control over the droopiness that intensifies every single lecture second and turn them into long, exhausting, nerves-numbing hours. Without caffeine, I'm like a walking dead who'd rather sleep through every moment of educational purposes than dealing with them with wide open eyes.
Precisely two hours after a cup of coffee is digested, I feel myself rejuvenated. I can feel drop of sweet liquidated Caffeine oozing through my blood like some Godly invented drugs. I feel them knocking over every cell in my body, slapping and tapping and raping them until they scream with delight and unrestrained excitement.
My hypersensitivity therefore is also summoned. I can focus like a hawk, aware of every single strand of information that perches in my brain. I sit on the front row of the class, digesting mathematical equations and grammatical propositions and chemical formulas as if they are pretty unique snowflakes that fall and melt and soundlessly seep into the ground.
The one thing that grows less as I devoted myself more into the stupefying ways of Caffeine is positive thoughts. Caffeine over-excites the pattern of my brain, making my mind paces back and forth like a confused little pig in a closed box. It's so hard to keep a positive thinking at bay that way, along with the constant furious drumming of the heart as if wanting to get out of its ribcage. The restless heart makes the organs of the body tired, and positive thoughts don't tend to come upon a depleted, over-occupied brain.
Precisely two hours after a cup of coffee is digested, I feel myself rejuvenated. I can feel drop of sweet liquidated Caffeine oozing through my blood like some Godly invented drugs. I feel them knocking over every cell in my body, slapping and tapping and raping them until they scream with delight and unrestrained excitement.
My hypersensitivity therefore is also summoned. I can focus like a hawk, aware of every single strand of information that perches in my brain. I sit on the front row of the class, digesting mathematical equations and grammatical propositions and chemical formulas as if they are pretty unique snowflakes that fall and melt and soundlessly seep into the ground.
The one thing that grows less as I devoted myself more into the stupefying ways of Caffeine is positive thoughts. Caffeine over-excites the pattern of my brain, making my mind paces back and forth like a confused little pig in a closed box. It's so hard to keep a positive thinking at bay that way, along with the constant furious drumming of the heart as if wanting to get out of its ribcage. The restless heart makes the organs of the body tired, and positive thoughts don't tend to come upon a depleted, over-occupied brain.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
18 is such an ugly number.
Being 18 is like standing transfixed in an intersection in which there's only one road to take, only you're still not sure where each of them leads and what are the consequences of your actions. The catch is, there's no going back. The lazy days are gone, and now you're at the peak of having to have to choose.
Moreover, the line that separates adulthood and childhood have never been this hazy before. You keep convincing yourselves that right as the clock turns 12, you ARE an adult. But deep down you know you can't turn from a childish, carefree 17 year old into a mature, responsible 18 year old overnight.
When you turn 18, people drastically turn over their eyes against you. You no longer have The Unforgivably Cute Recklessness that people under 18 are born with. When you're 17 and do something wrong, they'd easily say "It's okay, you'll learn from your mistakes." But when you're 18 and do something wrong, they'd give you a massive hard time by stating that you've never learned from your mistakes, and they'd blame it all on you for wasting all your youth in vain.
They say the upside about turning 18 is that you're legal. The question is, legal for what?? Legal for getting in some club, buying some booze, getting fucked up? Well guess what, unless you live in some tight-ass country in the 19th century or something, right now everybody can do all those things above without having to be 18. Rules are overrated, and so is "legality".
Eight-teen, if reversed, is also a hideous number in its numeral row of -teen (13-19). 81 is probably the oldest you can get before you die. 17, if reversed, is 71, and by that age most people would probably be at their top of fondness for you as a grandma/pa. But then when you turn 81, they just get bored of taking care of you and their visits are getting more seldom and practically you'll rot yourself in your deathbed. As for 19 (91), I doubt you'd still be alive by then, so that does not really count. Whatever.
Last but not least, for some people 18 could be a wonderful number, especially since it stands for 1'm 8lessed (to have lived until this moment). Nevertheless it's ugly for me since it also represents 1inglorious 8itch.
I'm turning into an 1nglorious 8itch in about 3 hours and 19 minutes. Happy Fucking Birthday.
Moreover, the line that separates adulthood and childhood have never been this hazy before. You keep convincing yourselves that right as the clock turns 12, you ARE an adult. But deep down you know you can't turn from a childish, carefree 17 year old into a mature, responsible 18 year old overnight.
When you turn 18, people drastically turn over their eyes against you. You no longer have The Unforgivably Cute Recklessness that people under 18 are born with. When you're 17 and do something wrong, they'd easily say "It's okay, you'll learn from your mistakes." But when you're 18 and do something wrong, they'd give you a massive hard time by stating that you've never learned from your mistakes, and they'd blame it all on you for wasting all your youth in vain.
They say the upside about turning 18 is that you're legal. The question is, legal for what?? Legal for getting in some club, buying some booze, getting fucked up? Well guess what, unless you live in some tight-ass country in the 19th century or something, right now everybody can do all those things above without having to be 18. Rules are overrated, and so is "legality".
Eight-teen, if reversed, is also a hideous number in its numeral row of -teen (13-19). 81 is probably the oldest you can get before you die. 17, if reversed, is 71, and by that age most people would probably be at their top of fondness for you as a grandma/pa. But then when you turn 81, they just get bored of taking care of you and their visits are getting more seldom and practically you'll rot yourself in your deathbed. As for 19 (91), I doubt you'd still be alive by then, so that does not really count. Whatever.
Last but not least, for some people 18 could be a wonderful number, especially since it stands for 1'm 8lessed (to have lived until this moment). Nevertheless it's ugly for me since it also represents 1inglorious 8itch.
I'm turning into an 1nglorious 8itch in about 3 hours and 19 minutes. Happy Fucking Birthday.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Nicholas Hoult is HOT.
Hey remember that freaky little pale-faced kid with some weird haircut who used to follow Hugh Grant around in the 2002 hit chick-flick About a Boy?
I know when you saw that movie, you'd probably be thinking, OMG that brat is sooo annoying and I just feel like smashing his face off!
Well I'm glad none of us did, because look how he turned out now...
Jesus Christ would you look at that! Mighty damn fine, eh? :D
Spidey Kiss me Spidey Kiss me Spidey Kiss me puh-leeeeaaaaasssssseeeeeeee
I know when you saw that movie, you'd probably be thinking, OMG that brat is sooo annoying and I just feel like smashing his face off!
Well I'm glad none of us did, because look how he turned out now...
Jesus Christ would you look at that! Mighty damn fine, eh? :D
Spidey Kiss me Spidey Kiss me Spidey Kiss me puh-leeeeaaaaasssssseeeeeeee
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
H stands for Highschool, Hell, and HEYGETMEOUTOFHERE!!!
When it comes to life after highschool, there are 3 kinds of people:
- Those who look back and smile. Eg: ex-cheerleaders.
- Those who look back and wince. Eg: ex-bully victims.
- Those who look back and don't remember a thing. Because after all there's nothing worth remembering, moreover that they've actually burnt their yearbooks down so everything vanished simultaneously. Eg: ex-haters, the unsatisfied, and the unattached.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Random shizzzzzzzzz.
Recently I had a chat with a really good friend of mine whom I haven't seen for 3 years and talked to for months. My memory of him back when we were still together is that he was such an absolutely talented manga artist and he used to make fun of my retarded so-called Inuyasha sketches. Anyway he agreed to draw me (manga style) out of his memory of what I looked like 3 years ago. And this is what he came up with:
... And that looks nothing like me D***: well maybe the fringe. And the bottom lip piercing (stupid fugly Indonesian school made me took my baby off!!!) But OMG is my face that ambiguous????????? jhsfkugryilsrdtghrfisdgilfdug7sjhfgsukl roflmao
Yeah this post is totally not worth your time :p
... And that looks nothing like me D***: well maybe the fringe. And the bottom lip piercing (stupid fugly Indonesian school made me took my baby off!!!) But OMG is my face that ambiguous????????? jhsfkugryilsrdtghrfisdgilfdug7sjhfgsukl roflmao
Yeah this post is totally not worth your time :p
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Don't read this if you can't handle the truth!
8 girls in one car; all single and not even close to dating guys anytime soon. What are the chances right? Answer is, it happens. As a matter of fact, I was actually one of the girls. Sucker!
So what do we exactly call that? Most people would shout SAD! Others would automatically think that those girls must be really unworthy of appraisals that no guys would ever try to touch (this, my friends, is not true nevertheless). In other word, SAD! SAD! SAD!!!
Me? I wouldn’t call that sad. Sad is a situation when everyone else around you has the same code ethic of coolness, but for some reason you couldn’t live up to the standards. Then you should feel free to call yourself a big fat loser.
But in the 8-single-girls-in-one-car case, DATING is actually not a code ethic of coolness in their environment. Hah, you’re probably thinking what the heck kinda environment is that, right? Well I’ll tell you what kind of environment that is: It’s the kind that somehow lets 6 of those 8 girls aforementioned above never ever gotten their first kiss!! Oh to prove my point, I shouldn’t say girls. LADIES is probably a better term.
If you still can’t picture the kind of environment we’re sinking our souls and bodies into, let me try to describe more in vivid details:
- It is the kind of environment that nurtures and recreates followers.
Those who follow the most and those who are far from being individualistic are considered as the gods and goddesses of funk! YAY!
- It is the kind of environment that always tries hard to unite its people together; ironically the result drifts one group even further from the other.
Okay people tomorrow we meet up altogether to play some soccer! Oh but umm, of course, that emo bitch shouldn’t come because if she comes, people will start wondering why on earth did she come, and we sure don’t want to cause some confusion ,do we now? Unity in diversity!
- It is the kind of environment where Chinese Whisper is the most played game of all.
Hey I heard that she was rebelling to the seniors during the orientation program, wait no didn’t she also cry or something, nah man I heard she was yelling at the seniors because they told her not to eat with her hands during lunch, yeah dude but then all the seniors started yelling back at her and she ended up CRYING!!! (My suggestion is: GET THE FUCKING FACTS RIGHT!!!)
- It is the kind of environment in which dating and relationships are as boring as ever.
Dude have you frenched her? Nah man it’s only been three months. What have you guys done then? Well yesterday I kinda gave her a peck. DUUUDEEE that’s still cool man I mean me and my girl have said the world LOVE to each other but she still wants to save her first cheek-kiss until we’re married!
- It is the kind of environment where indulgence is always in whereas sufferings are underrated.
Hey let’s just take the public transport, it’s cheap and way faster than if we wait for your chauffeur to pick us up. Noooo I don’t want to get into those dirty little cars, they stink and I don’t want my odor to mix with those wretched little poor creatures inside!
- It is the kind of environment where in order to get boys to like you, you have to have some certain traits.
First, you have to be cute. Second, clingy. Third, whiny. Next, you have to have a hint of stupidity so those boys wouldn’t feel intimidated by you, also they’d have something to make fun of. Oh and one last thing, you have to be utterly passive. None of them like an aggression, since obviously all are still virgin. Cheers to *oppressed* innocence!
- It is the kind of environment in which groups are so close-knitted it lets no air to breathe in.
I know right guys, as popular as we are, we should celebrate new year’s eve in a 5-star hotel! Oh just make sure the hotel we’re staying in isn’t also occupied by those other kids from public highschools, we’d like to enjoy our sucking-up moments to ourselves, puhlease!
- It is the kind of environment in which the word difference is synonym with outcast.
Oh haven’t you gotten yourself a blackberry? I mean why not, literally everyone else did! It’s like, how are we gonna keep in touch with you when you don’t keep yourself on track through blackberry messenger? Text messages are sooo five minutes ago girl, so we’re sorry if you weren’t informed about our next hang-out, your fault for not having a blackberry in hand!
Now you see why I’ve been more than desperate to break the fuck free??
P.S. My apologies for those who are offended by this, but I know deep down you know I'm right. Like always, I tell it like it is.
So what do we exactly call that? Most people would shout SAD! Others would automatically think that those girls must be really unworthy of appraisals that no guys would ever try to touch (this, my friends, is not true nevertheless). In other word, SAD! SAD! SAD!!!
Me? I wouldn’t call that sad. Sad is a situation when everyone else around you has the same code ethic of coolness, but for some reason you couldn’t live up to the standards. Then you should feel free to call yourself a big fat loser.
But in the 8-single-girls-in-one-car case, DATING is actually not a code ethic of coolness in their environment. Hah, you’re probably thinking what the heck kinda environment is that, right? Well I’ll tell you what kind of environment that is: It’s the kind that somehow lets 6 of those 8 girls aforementioned above never ever gotten their first kiss!! Oh to prove my point, I shouldn’t say girls. LADIES is probably a better term.
If you still can’t picture the kind of environment we’re sinking our souls and bodies into, let me try to describe more in vivid details:
- It is the kind of environment that nurtures and recreates followers.
Those who follow the most and those who are far from being individualistic are considered as the gods and goddesses of funk! YAY!
- It is the kind of environment that always tries hard to unite its people together; ironically the result drifts one group even further from the other.
Okay people tomorrow we meet up altogether to play some soccer! Oh but umm, of course, that emo bitch shouldn’t come because if she comes, people will start wondering why on earth did she come, and we sure don’t want to cause some confusion ,do we now? Unity in diversity!
- It is the kind of environment where Chinese Whisper is the most played game of all.
Hey I heard that she was rebelling to the seniors during the orientation program, wait no didn’t she also cry or something, nah man I heard she was yelling at the seniors because they told her not to eat with her hands during lunch, yeah dude but then all the seniors started yelling back at her and she ended up CRYING!!! (My suggestion is: GET THE FUCKING FACTS RIGHT!!!)
- It is the kind of environment in which dating and relationships are as boring as ever.
Dude have you frenched her? Nah man it’s only been three months. What have you guys done then? Well yesterday I kinda gave her a peck. DUUUDEEE that’s still cool man I mean me and my girl have said the world LOVE to each other but she still wants to save her first cheek-kiss until we’re married!
- It is the kind of environment where indulgence is always in whereas sufferings are underrated.
Hey let’s just take the public transport, it’s cheap and way faster than if we wait for your chauffeur to pick us up. Noooo I don’t want to get into those dirty little cars, they stink and I don’t want my odor to mix with those wretched little poor creatures inside!
- It is the kind of environment where in order to get boys to like you, you have to have some certain traits.
First, you have to be cute. Second, clingy. Third, whiny. Next, you have to have a hint of stupidity so those boys wouldn’t feel intimidated by you, also they’d have something to make fun of. Oh and one last thing, you have to be utterly passive. None of them like an aggression, since obviously all are still virgin. Cheers to *oppressed* innocence!
- It is the kind of environment in which groups are so close-knitted it lets no air to breathe in.
I know right guys, as popular as we are, we should celebrate new year’s eve in a 5-star hotel! Oh just make sure the hotel we’re staying in isn’t also occupied by those other kids from public highschools, we’d like to enjoy our sucking-up moments to ourselves, puhlease!
- It is the kind of environment in which the word difference is synonym with outcast.
Oh haven’t you gotten yourself a blackberry? I mean why not, literally everyone else did! It’s like, how are we gonna keep in touch with you when you don’t keep yourself on track through blackberry messenger? Text messages are sooo five minutes ago girl, so we’re sorry if you weren’t informed about our next hang-out, your fault for not having a blackberry in hand!
Now you see why I’ve been more than desperate to break the fuck free??
P.S. My apologies for those who are offended by this, but I know deep down you know I'm right. Like always, I tell it like it is.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Literature and music.
We Make The World Go Round :DTop 5 books:
- The God of Small Things
- Jane Eyre
- The Little Prince
- Time Traveller's Wife
- CATCHER IN THE RYE!!!
Top 5 bands (at the moment):
- The White Stripes
- The Temper Trap
- Foo Fighters
- Aerosmith
- The Smiths
model: Adilla and Tara (again)
- The God of Small Things
- Jane Eyre
- The Little Prince
- Time Traveller's Wife
- CATCHER IN THE RYE!!!
Top 5 bands (at the moment):
- The White Stripes
- The Temper Trap
- Foo Fighters
- Aerosmith
- The Smiths
model: Adilla and Tara (again)
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Highschool is more fun if there's somebody to stalk.
This is me and my bff, Tara
We share the same crush at school
But instead of turning into rivals
We decided to go for threesome
(IF we have the chance to, obviously)
But anyways, how AWESOME are we?? :D
P.S. Puppy love is the coolest kind of love ever exist
We share the same crush at school
But instead of turning into rivals
We decided to go for threesome
(IF we have the chance to, obviously)
But anyways, how AWESOME are we?? :D
P.S. Puppy love is the coolest kind of love ever exist
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Cosmic irrelevance.
Tonight was pretty depressing. I had a long conversation over the phone and MSN with one of my closest friends (initial M) and we kinda poured our hearts out about how unhappy and unexciting our lives are at this stage, and this situation. She said she'd rather keep a positive thought at bay and get over those feelings of dissatisfaction and just keep living. I said, let's have a what if game.
adilla caulfield says:
what if i stayed in Australia
M says:
you would never meet us three AND MATTTTTT
I can't help but ponder over this one a bit. True, if I didn't move out to Indonesia, I would've never met all these people, some of whom I've shared everything with. But the real question is, so what? So what if I never met him or her or whatever, I would've met other people in other places too anyway. And obviously I wouldn't have regretted not meeting him or her or whatever, since I couldn't possibly predict how my life would turn out with/without having these/those people in my life, and since I would've never gotten close with their existence in the first place. Same goes for them. If they didn't meet me, they wouldn't know what it's like if they did, so practically they lose/gain nothing.
For example, if I stayed in Australia, I might be dating Charlie right now, and have the time of my life? But do I regret having to move to Indonesia and not date Charlie? NO, because obviously I don't know who the fuck Charlie is, I never met him yet. For all it's worth, you don't know what's going to happen to you until it happens.
Point is... Jesus do I even have any point?? I guess not, this is just one of those i-hate-the-world midnight ramblings people tend to write when they have nothing else to do except hating the world...
P.S. I'd still date Charlie Chaplin though, gives me something to laugh about in the middle of this chaotic, cruel world.
adilla caulfield says:
what if i stayed in Australia
M says:
you would never meet us three AND MATTTTTT
I can't help but ponder over this one a bit. True, if I didn't move out to Indonesia, I would've never met all these people, some of whom I've shared everything with. But the real question is, so what? So what if I never met him or her or whatever, I would've met other people in other places too anyway. And obviously I wouldn't have regretted not meeting him or her or whatever, since I couldn't possibly predict how my life would turn out with/without having these/those people in my life, and since I would've never gotten close with their existence in the first place. Same goes for them. If they didn't meet me, they wouldn't know what it's like if they did, so practically they lose/gain nothing.
For example, if I stayed in Australia, I might be dating Charlie right now, and have the time of my life? But do I regret having to move to Indonesia and not date Charlie? NO, because obviously I don't know who the fuck Charlie is, I never met him yet. For all it's worth, you don't know what's going to happen to you until it happens.
Point is... Jesus do I even have any point?? I guess not, this is just one of those i-hate-the-world midnight ramblings people tend to write when they have nothing else to do except hating the world...
P.S. I'd still date Charlie Chaplin though, gives me something to laugh about in the middle of this chaotic, cruel world.
Friday, November 27, 2009
I miss this guy.
It's been almost a year now since we first met. It's been months since I stopped missing him. It's been two hours since I started feeling melancholic today - the kind of melancholy that triggers you to miss somebody - therefore I started missing him all over again. At times like this, the only thing I could think about is his voice over the phone, saying "I promise someday we'll see each other again."
"Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?"
An excerpt from The Time Traveler's Wife
P.S. I hope he doesn't read my blog!!!
Monday, November 23, 2009
My adolescent life is an anti-climax.
Like a roller coaster on a straight lane
Like faking an orgasm
Like a movie with a boring ending
Like a long road trip not arriving
Like skateboarding with dislocated knees
Like bad first dates
Like baaaddd first kisses
Like an expired stand-up comedian
Like David Haselhoff
Like the point of no return, except it ain’t a point, it’s a circle that goes round
and round so tediously even the sun eventually gets bored of providing wasted sunrays
Never mind, this is emo Adilla talking
Like faking an orgasm
Like a movie with a boring ending
Like a long road trip not arriving
Like skateboarding with dislocated knees
Like bad first dates
Like baaaddd first kisses
Like an expired stand-up comedian
Like David Haselhoff
Like the point of no return, except it ain’t a point, it’s a circle that goes round
and round so tediously even the sun eventually gets bored of providing wasted sunrays
Never mind, this is emo Adilla talking
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Call me over-the-top, but I love rain.
Call me cheesy, but one of the things I wish to do before I die is to kiss under a pouring rain. And by pouring rain I really meant like the storm in that particular scene on Notebook, not just some stupid drizzle in some stupid park in Tasmania on a year 9 camp with a guy who barely looked like Ryan Gosling.
Call me naive, but rainbows make me happy. And of course rainbow only appears after rain pours. In short, rain makes me happy.
Call me a nutcase, but when I was about 7 I thought those tiny drops of water coming down from the sky were literally God’s tears, and when it rained, I believed God was crying for the sake of humankind. For some reason, those irrational believes kind of put a deeper meaning of how I viewed rain when I was little.
Call me a pseudomaniac, but I hate the saying “Always have your umbrella ready in case it rains”. It’s like, dude how boring can you be?? Accept some challenges instead of avoiding them in the first place, for God’s sake!
Call me a bitch, but I hate sharing umbrellas. At times like that, the world only belongs to me and the sound of raindrops hitting the umbrella, so no need of intruders please.
The only time I hate rain is the hours before it happened. The weather gets super hot and all humid and sticky and makes me wanna kill somebody, but when finally the rain comes everything turns composed and replenished again.
Call me naive, but rainbows make me happy. And of course rainbow only appears after rain pours. In short, rain makes me happy.
Call me a nutcase, but when I was about 7 I thought those tiny drops of water coming down from the sky were literally God’s tears, and when it rained, I believed God was crying for the sake of humankind. For some reason, those irrational believes kind of put a deeper meaning of how I viewed rain when I was little.
Call me a pseudomaniac, but I hate the saying “Always have your umbrella ready in case it rains”. It’s like, dude how boring can you be?? Accept some challenges instead of avoiding them in the first place, for God’s sake!
Call me a bitch, but I hate sharing umbrellas. At times like that, the world only belongs to me and the sound of raindrops hitting the umbrella, so no need of intruders please.
The only time I hate rain is the hours before it happened. The weather gets super hot and all humid and sticky and makes me wanna kill somebody, but when finally the rain comes everything turns composed and replenished again.
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