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

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.

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!!!

One depressing chat.

Bahar says:
adilla, do u really srsly still feel the same way abt him, the way u did like 3 years ago man?
what is it that u cant exactly let go of?

adilla caulfield says:
not exactly the same way
but like, there are leftover feelings still stuck inside me that i cant possibly get rid of
the weird thing is, i think i cant let go of the fact that i never get what i wanted with him
that everything went wrong
and as long as im not satisfied, ill never get over it

Bahar says:
u know
i know exactly how that feeels..
but adilla, at some point, we all have to let go
u know i can sit here and listen to depressing songs all i want and cry my eyes out
but he wont hear a damn thing.. he wont hear me
the thing is
we r so caught up in the past and "how it used to be" or how we would've liked it to be, that not only we miss the present, but we r gonna miss the future too..



Damn, it's not fun being involuntarily stuck in your past...

The limitations of being human.

If there was ever a psychological disease called not-exactly-living-in-the-past-but-still-very-much-affected-by-it disorder, then I might as well be suffering from it. My past wasn't haunting nor was it glorious enough to be reminisced, yet it's still attached to the back of my skull like a raw, sweet-smelling secret. My definition of past here is the times when i had grown up enough to accustom life in my own ways yet still innocent enough that everything i perceived went straight into my comprehension without much filtering.

I remember what it felt like to NOT realize the transition from being a girl to a teenager. It felt like nothing was going on, like what you see is what you get, no strings attached, no grotesque monsters or beautiful angels lurking in the dark to surprise you. Smooth as how the river flows. And then overtime I come to realize that suddenly, I'm not as I was were three years ago, and truth starts hammering down onto me like the seeping of rainfall into the hard ground. I can feel and see the transition that suddenly awakened itself clearly now, and it saddens me so much that in this strange and nothing-is-impossible world, there's no such thing as a time machine.

Since I can't seem to forget (let alone forgive) my past, I start to make comparisons. I compare everything: The friends I have and the friends I had, the things that wasn't there before but is here now and likewise, the possibilities of lives I could've led then and the ones I can choose to lead now, the quality of boyfriends and the varied feelings of attachment, the reasons of my anger and grieves back then and what makes me sad and angry now, the joys i had then and the joys i have now.

It's funny how even after so long, the songs that used to make you cry back then are now still able to shed your tears for no reason. It's funny how in a way, you like yourself better back then than the state you're in now, how you wish to escape reality and just indulge yourselves in memories of your past.

"Maybe we've been living with eyes half open, maybe we're bent and broken."

The night's still young.

Still not sleepy and running out of things to do or stuff to think about, I flicked through a folder of old photographs, in which some months ago I scanned into the computer for an English project. They were photos from when I was born up until now. I found two that I like the most.

13 Years Backwards

Rice fields were my playground, expanding further and further more until they collide with the faint line of the horizon. Just like the ocean, only greener. I wonder what I was pointing at.

3 Years Backwards

Forget the piercing or the dyed hair, I look sincere.

Bits and pieces.

“I needed somewhere to hang my head
Without your noose
You gave me something that I didn’t have
But had no use
I was to weak to give in
Too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I'll break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can’t choose
I swear I’ll never give in
I refuse”

Best of You – Foo fighters


That song is still traumatically etched in my mind since the first time I heard it about three years ago. It speaks of trust, betrayal, expectations, hope, faith, love and broken hearts, pain and revivals. The things I - for the first time in my life - experienced simultaneously altogether back then, which possibly marked the turning point of my self-realization.

Albeit more than three years had passed, whenever I hear that song, old (and almost forgotten) memories would just start crawling their way forward into the present. Bits and pieces of memories that pile up into one gigantic mass of nostalgic, over-romanticized reminiscence overflowing with feelings. I HATE it when those happen:
1st, when memories came with feelings still attached, coz those leftover feelings might crash with my present ones and turns me indecisive and sort of lost.
2nd, when the memory was actually a ghoulish one, but overtime (as I learn to forgive and forget) it’s losing its sense of ghastliness and whenever it emerges from the abyss, I couldn’t help but miss experiencing the thrill all over again, even though I perfectly know that back then, when I was IN it, I’d give up anything to get it over with ASAP. Confusing, I know.

Back to the song, I still don’t know what the meaning-beyond-meaning is precisely. On some parts of the song, I still don’t know who Dave Grohl refers to when he says “you”. First I thought it might be somebody he loves - a girl, maybe - but then it couldn’t be that trivial. I even tried connecting “you” with God, but it didn’t make any sense (one line says “were you born to resist, or to be abused?” What kind of human being would ask God that kind of question anyway?)

So the best possible answer I could come up with is that Dave refers “you” to us, or whoever is listening to the song. To be precise, “you” refers to anyone who could relate to the feelings and situations that the lyrics convey. Anyone who, by any sheer coincidence, could project off you into I.