And You’re Here With Me

I sigh heavily and closed the program. The blinking of a tiny little vertical strip does little to help me get the word to write it out. I have everything arranged in my brain, but I just couldn’t get them out and get it done with.

And the deadline’s in three hours.

 

I want to go by the beach and take a walk. But there’s no beach here in the city. I want to find inspiration by drinking beer. Or Coke. Or something. And there’s nothing but tap water in the apartment. I feel like going out and get some fresh air and clear my head. Which would end up with my agent calling and yelling at the phone, because if I do that, then I certainly will spend all the three hours walking and doing nothing. I feel like screaming. Which is just what I can do.

 

I put my hands on my face and let out a groan, then exhale a huge, sharp breath.

 

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”
I look up. “Hey, Hayes.”
He stood there, almost glued to the wall with his big blue eyes staring at me with curiosity.
“Come here.” I waved my hand and smiled.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Champ. Just… tired, is all.”
“So, you’re not going to read me a bedtime story?”

“Hayes?” she called. “What did I say?”
“I know, I know,” he leaned in on me and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “G’ nite, Daddy.”
“Good night, Champ.”

 

With one swift motion, he slipped out of my arms and went running to the bedroom with his mom. I chuckled lightly and shook my head, still coming to term with this realization that I’m now married with kids.

 

“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How’s it going so far?” she asked, standing right behind me and noticed that my laptop is now closed. “You scared Hayes for a minute there.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Not going so well?”
I looked up and tilted my head back, my eyes landed right on her smiling lips and those clear blue eyes, and let out a grim smile. “Don’t think so.”
“You’ll finish it. Don’t worry.” she said with her reassuring voice, and putting her hand on my shoulder.
“I hope so, or Ken’s gonna freak.” I look into her eyes again, finding comfort and strength at the same time. “Thank you.”

 

I open the laptop once again, and soon afterward that blinking, vertical strip was waiting for me.
I took a deep breath. And I began to write.

Memory Jog

I was on my way home from campus when I saw her. Someone like her, more specifically. I was behind her, and everything about this girl is the same. Except for the face. The way she walks, her height, her hair, her posture. It was all there.

 

My breath got caught for a moment, and I didn’t realise until this time how much I’ve missed her. We’ll never be together, but she is my first love. She taught me in the meanest way possible that love is oh-so-painful and that love sometimes means letting someone go. She was the one whom I’d die for. She made me fall head over heels and she doesn’t even know what she had done to me. Maybe I’m a pervert and a joke for the way I acted to impress her, but I was naive then. I thought of live foolishly then, and I honestly don’t know how to make her close to me. Love is forbidden beyond reason and all I ever wanted was for her to be my best friend. I cannot pinpoint when exactly is it that I have become good friends with her, but eventually we became close, and I couldn’t be happier for myself.

 

Now time passes by and another love has filled my heart, and to her I say thank you for teaching me so many things.

 

As I observe this girl-look alike from behind, it struck me how much actually I still have feelings for her, more or less. She is my first love, and I don’t think, however long time passes by, my feelings for her will ever be completely vanish. She’ll always have a special place in my heart.

Update

It’s been quite a while since I write on this blog, and I thought I should update it.

See the reason why I don’t write as much anymore is because I have LiveJournal now. Turns out I’m kinda addicted to that site so I’ve been spending most of my time there and been regularly updating it with what had happened to me, my daily experiences and such.

 

At first I didn’t actually want to post anything, coz I figure I have my blog, and, well, if I post there than what would become of this? My recently moved blog? Balancing the two is quite a work, I tell you, and it’s not easy. Look what had happened now, my blog is kinda neglected. I like this blog’s design more, though, that has to be said. I had to settle for flowery stuff with my LJ… not that it’s not nice or anything, it’s just not really my style. I know I can change the banner and such, but I still have to learn, right? Besides I want my banner to be nice and personal. Not… like an Amy Adams or an Enchanted banner, no matter how much I adore those two.

 

So from now on I think I’ve established what I want to write here, and what I should write in LJ. LJ is going to be… more like a day-to-day basis, while my blog is going to be of stories and of life lessons and of letters. Or just my random rambling at times, maybe. I just need to set the line so I can determine what to write and where to write it. And I need to write this down coz, well… I dunno why, actually. I just miss writing in my blog and today’s one of those days when I feel like writing about every single thing. Like my mind won’t shut up, and I’ve had this period for a while now.

The Art of Handwritten Everything

Nowadays, the idea of handwritten things are just not that common anymore.

 

As much as I love writing in my blogs, I miss the idea of handwritten things. I miss that urge to reach out to the pen and paper instead of turning on your laptop and go to your blog’s website to write. I miss opening my diary to let out my frustration instead of going on about it on LiveJournal.

 

People now think that people who still use handwritten letters are “cute”. That the idea of it is “cute” and “endearing” and whatever else may come to mind if I mention handwriting stuff. Someone might even say, “Oh, people still do that?”

 

For the past couple of days now, I have been wanting to write something with pen and paper. What; I have no idea. Yet. It can be a diary entry (which I haven’t open in about a year, I think) or just… a poem or a story. To whom? Why that’s an even bigger question. But maybe for now, not to anyone. Just to myself. Just for the sake of… preserving the beauty of it.

Thunder in Daylight

Dear Amy,

 

I can never have real closure when it comes to you. Days pass by and I go on monotonously, not really having the desire and the urge to go through it just because. I’d have beautiful moments in my life, moments that I’d imagine sharing with you, and the realization that you’re that far away from me is killing. In the afternoon when the sun sets, I’d catch a glimpse of it and take it all in. At night the stars would burst out of the sky and bravely put themselves out there with the moon. Or at the mall, where the decorations were arranged ever so beautifully.

 

I’d miss you in all of those things. I thought I’d let you go completely but seeing you makes me ache. Why is it that I always fall for someone who I can never be with?

 

It was raining just now, and the soft melody of the rain really soothes me. For some reason the thunder earlier didn’t really scare me that much. I found it comforting. Now as the sun is piercing through my window, like always, I think of you.

Argh… Bad Storm

There’s a nagging feeling that comes with the night. For me. Lately, that is. In fact, no, not lately, but… just now. After a lull of… positivity and normalcy, here comes the storm. Full speed.

 

What makes me feel this way, I have absolutely no idea. I had a twitch earlier on, granted, but after that I was better. At least that’s what I thought. I came home and haqd a decent conversation with some of my friends, and watched TV and stuff. Everything was… okay. Normal. And in a split of a second, it wasn’t anymore.

 

What do I have to do? There’s just so much stuff going on and I don’t know how to take… pause. Every time I’m free from my papers and all those meaningless crap I’d find time to relax. And relax. And relax. Free time means I spend it with books and Internet and movies and writing. There’s never those moments that I’d stop and think, what am I doing right now?

 

I’m actually scared of sleeping. After studying earlier I got about 2 hours to spare and decided to have a little more sleep instead of waiting around feeling anxious. I ended up having a very weird and scary dream, I was so glad when the alarm blared on and startled me awake. It was scary, and made me gasp for air (although not as dramatic as the ones you see in the movies) when I woke up. I thought the whole thing is over, but somehow I find myself scared of going back to sleep again. I’ve had bad dreams quite often nowadays, and this last one is scary crap… one of the scariest out there. It surely beat my Jaws dream (one time there was a huge shark emerged and opened its mouth right in front of me, but that’s not as nearly scary as this one).

 

What I feel like doing now is… rambling. I need to have a serious session of rambling, though, if you ask me what I want to talk about, I have no idea. I should learn more, since I have lab test tomorrow, but I’m… well, like every other most of the uni students out there, am too lazy to do so. I’m tired. I think. I need to sleep but I’m scared of it. I feel like a good action movie (or a good movie, period) would wash it all away, but I know as soon as the movie ends I’d have this feeling again.

 

There’s a nagging feeling right now inside of me, and it’s the kind of thing you ask, “What?!” and the answer would be, “I don’t know.” No matter how many times you ask, the answer’s going to be the same. Maybe I’m nervous. Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe this is one of those days. Maybe the dream, consciously or subconsciously, has left a deep impact in me. I have no idea. What I do know is that having to answer my mind’s question with ‘I don’t know’ is surely going to kill me.

 

The storm is coming, and I know it will pass. I just don’t know when. And until then, the feeling is most likely going to stick around.

Swirling

Why am I so frickin’ scared of everything?!

 

The works that I have to do is frustrating enough, and being… feeling scared over something just because my mind feels like it doesn’t exactly make it okay. It makes it worse. And it always happens. Seriously, these are the times when I need Valium or whatever it is you give to people who has anxiety-attack. I have to calm down but I don’t know how to except to write.

 

So basically what happened is that… I was stumbling around some midterm test examples to look for physics (I’m having physics midterm later at 8.30) just so I can get a grip on what the tests might be. And to have a practice or two. And I saw these bunch of stuff that I just don’t understand. They’re from other subjects, but they scared the hell outta me. I had the same kind of materials, yet what I found there was staggering, since I found out I don’t understand most of it.

 

Jeez! I was just rumbling and fumbling through; I did not look at it one by one! How can I know what I really do understand and what I don’t? Don’t I have the book, and that way I can learn better? I just have to learn from there, for God’s sake. I still got time, I have about 4 days until biochemistry and a week until genetics. I can manage. I can go and study together with my friends, it’s no biggie. I’m pretty sure that by the time I get to the actual day of the exam, I will get over this crazy, insane, I-have-to-go-nuts-thing I’m feeling right now.

 

What the heck is wrong with me, that with one glance, gone is everything. My self-confidence of my midterm. Everything has gone kaput, and now I have to go back to square one. I felt good. I felt great. One look and everything is over. I’m just so sick of swirling and panicking over stuff that I don’t really have to; that my mind is taking over and there’s no way to stop it unless I lash out somewhere or I write about it. I have to feel better. How, though? How do I not let panic attacks bring down my wall every time it comes? It’s like one of those things when you’re walking around fine and then you realize that you’re naked in public. Or so you think. Your sense of self-awareness becomes extremely high, when, actually… you’re wearing clothes.

 

Amy… Help me.

A Hard Day’s Night

Dear Amy,

 

Today was long. I don’t have the energy to go on as much as I would like to, and the whole day just drags by. I miss missing you. Lately I have allowed myself once again to bully my own emotion, intimidating it just so I can go through the day without feeling the agonising pain, because pain is just too much for me to handle. I’m don’t allow myself to think of you and my inability of being with you. Time would come and go when I miss you so badly and I need to hold on. Yet all these times I’ve hold on to your hand, and the mere image of you beside me.

 

I just feel like telling you. I haven’t written to you in a while, and I miss you.

Confirmation of Amy Adams’ New Hairdo

OK so my wish was granted. She didn’t cut her hair (eeeeep number 1) and she’s still a redhead (eeeeep number 2) 
I’m so happy. While Amy looks cute with short, brown hair, it’s still quite a hard sight to see because, well… she’s a redhead goddess

 

Amy attended the 35th Annual Lincoln Center Film Society Tribute honoring the legendary Meryl Streep, and that’s when me and a lot of her fans at the forum breathe a sigh of relief after seeing the available pics.

 

(Left to right): Uma Thurman, Robert Redford, Meryl Streep, Mike Nichols and Amy Adams

  
Mike Nichols and Amy Adams

 

Phew.

In The Name of The Father, and of The Son, and of The Holy Spirit…

And then what?

 

Essentially, that is the continuous feeling I have every time I pray. What? What is it that I want to say? What should I say? Should I ramble in English, or should I just say it in Indonesian? That is, believe it or not, a big thing, because I’ve so gotten used to using English and sometimes I feel like my own language is incapable of describing how I feel. Twisted much? Guess so.

 

My closeness to God reached a high when I was in high school. Supported by the surrounding of my school and my teacher, and that urge for me to change for the better, I became close to God. But now it has, once again, got off the peak. I think I was too judgemental with the whole God issue (meaning: people who got a divorce will certainly go to hell), and there was a part of me that wasn’t comfortable with it. I realize that, I was being cocky, in a way. Like, I think of myself as so high and mighty and I look down on others. I thought I was a saint or something and people should do the right thing and live their life right. Otherwise they’re going straight to hell.

 

Or do they?
Those thoughts would be accompanied by, “Who the heck do I think I am,l judging left and right?” I was not comfortable with my speedy brain, concluding everything based on the surface, and I was eager to settle into “yes, I’m a Christian and I’m rather spiritual, but I don’t want to judge you” lifestyle.

 

These days it’s hard. Difficult. I felt like I was so far away from God, and I knew I needed something to bring me back closer to Him. So I bought Purpose Driven Life; but that book turned out to be something really stupid, IMHO, so I didn’t continue. It taught me a thing or two, but most of the time, it’s… well, not my taste.

 

Praying is one thing that I’m struggling at, too. I don’t want to be formal with God, as He is, according to people, “my bud.” I want to talk to Him like I talk to Joe, but every time I do that, I get nightmares or weird dreams. What am I supposed to do? Sometimes even talking to Him feels like a clogged well. I cannot express how I really feel. In my madness, in my mania, in my depression, I know I want to scream because I feel like it. I feel like screaming might take it all away and make me feel better as opposed to sobbing for hours. I feel like screaming to God, “Help me! I’m dying here and I need your help! I cannot do this by myself and I need someone’s presence, but there’s no one! I need You to extend Your arm and lift me up but you are not there!”

 

Am I suppose to cry out once I make a cross? Do I, for the sake of others, remain silent and pretend like I’m civilised while inside, I’m about to burst from pain? What should I do? How shoud I say it?

 

After making a cross sign, I’d stay silent until eventually the words come out. Not everything, but at least, I keep contact.