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.

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.

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.

EEEP! Amy Has A New Hairdo!

The lovely Miss Amy Adams apparently has a new hairdo. These shots were taken when she’s filming Julie and Julia  in NYC.

   

 

Oh, can I love her even more?! I’m rather disappointed if it’s a new hairdo, though. I love her as a redhead. Hopefully she’ll get back to being a readhed. And her long hair is just gorgeous!

 

So, secretly, I’m still hoping that it’s a wig.

 

But whatever. You have, once again, magnificently caught my breath

Cuddling My Dog

All you pet lovers know what I’m talking about when I saw that there’s always that small part of the day where you just want to hang out with your friendly, beloved, animal friend. And cuddle it or play with it; take long walks and stuff.

I don’t have a pet, per se, but I do have a “virtual pet”. Its name is Pippy (like Amy’s dog ) and it’s a Golden Retriever puppy. The application has a very cute pic of the dog, and I smile every time I see her. Even though it was just a pic. There’s always that part of me that wanted her to be real and to be around, just so I can stroke her or fuss her fur and pet her and stuff. Granted, her tongue would be sticking out most of the time; if not all the time, but I think I’d enjoy the company. Human beings can be… noisy. And I think in some ways dogs are perfect.

I’m not always a dog lover. I had a Chow-Chow once (his name was Arco) and after taking a stroll it just wouldn’t go in. My 8-year-old-intuition came alive and I just kicked it. Hard. On the stomach. So hard until he wailed and yelped in pain. My dad heard it, and locked me in the bathroom; yelling and all.

Believe it or not, it was hard for me to write that last paragraph. Mainly because of the memory it brought. I was just a kid, but that was no excuse. I loved my dog, but when it refused to go in I just went… shall I say over the top? It was highly unnecessary, and I have no excuse whatsoever for what I did. He suffered a yellow fever afterwards, got better for a while, and died. Part of me always feels guilty about what happened, I suppose. I have never let this out in the open before, and I realized that I know now what I did was way beyond reason, and it was wrong.

Now it’s different. I can never hurt a dog; well, unless it’s a psycho one. If I have my own house or my own apartment, I’ll most definitely buy a dog. Maybe not a Golden Retriever, but more like… Dachshund or Shiba Inu. But then again maybe I will buy a Golden Retriever puppy. They’re so cute.

I think, if Pippy were real later on, I’ll definitely have that moment. When you just want to hang out with your dog and on a whim take it’s leash and start taking a stroll. Or when I get home and he (or she)’d bark… I’d get down on my knees and give my dog a cuddle.

Or if I’m too tired, just pat my dog on the head and smile. I’d have company.

I’m A Genius

I had a nice chat with my cousin a couple of days ago. Somewhere in the middle of discussing something, she said, “Bingo! That’s it! You’re a genius.”

 

My reply was not a humble thank you or a blushing smiley; something I usually do when given such compliment. My reply was a laugh (written laugh. Meaning: LOL), followed by what I think are the words that toally describes me.

 

“Yes I am. The world is just too blind to notice.”

 

I am a rebel, who’s afraid of rebelling. If that makes any sense. I refuse to be judged by how I do at uni and how my grades are. Because, frankly, I think I’m more than that. I’m a person who doesn’t like to be marked, like, “Here. You’re capability of doing this is judged by a letter. A means good. E means you suck. Not just in this subject; but you suck big time almost in every aspect. So, from now on, we’ll just look at you and go, ‘feh.’ Deal with it.”

 

Everyone is great. Everyone is good at something. Whether you’re good in writing, or cooking, or persuading people. People are good at making videos, making art. They’re good at taking photographs and painting. They’re good at cursing or hiding their feelings or cheating. They’re good at something. Granted, sometimes the things people are good at are not always pleasant, but you have to be… an open-minded person to see that, yes, there is good to everything.

 

No, sinking at school subject does not make me stupid. I’m a genius. The world is just too blind to notice.

In His Office Room

The clock was ticking and he could hear the tap of the keyboard as he typed on his computer. After finishing the last sentence, he glanced up at the clock. Well past dinner. Either she’s waiting for me or she’d eaten by now, he thought. He turned his sight back to the computer and let out a huge sigh, hoping to throw everything that’s been burdening him away, before continuing. But the brief turn to the clock had disrupted his concentration. He couldn’t focus, not as much as he’d like to anyways, and soon the words were just a jumble of stuff in is brain. They weren’t as organised, as neat as he’d liked. He’d type a couple words, then hit the delete button over and over again. Something about it was just not right, but he couldn’t point it out. What was it?

“You’re sick.”

He recalled her words. How she looked at him earlier this morning before he went off to work. It was not the kind of loving, worried look a wife would give her husband; it was a disgusted look like a rich man looking down on almost everything. He remembered how he reacted after hearing those words. Yes, slamming the door was not the ideal solution, but what was he supposed to do? After a heated argument over breakfast, one which he did not expect coming, his head was too hot to handle everything, and the way she’d said it was… hurtful, to say the least. The so-called “teaching her a lesson” was out of the question. He knew she had her point, but does it have to be so… point blank? Somewhere along analysing it, he was rather shocked by how what she said still had him paralysed now. It was hours ago, and he’d been slamming himself in work. Now that his mind was “off” for a bit, it’s like the adrenaline rush just went away; leaving him to deal with his feelings all alone.

The slow vibrating sound of his phone against the office desk brought him back to the moment, startling him for a bit.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

The gentle voice from the other end of the phone gave him goosebumps. Instantly, he just wanted to forget everything and be with her. The only problem was just how to say he’s sorry. Or how to know that she’d gone past that angry stage, too.

“It’s almost 10,” she said.

“I know. I still have something to do here. I’ll probably be late.”

“You’re already late.”

“I know.”

There was an awkward silence filling the void. The way she said her last sentence was… gentle. Full of understanding. He couldn’t explain it if he wanted to, but he knew somehow that she’d put it behind her. That the main reason she called was to let him know; one way or another.

“Do you want me to wait for you for dinner?” she asked, finally breaking the ice. “Or should I just…”

“Yeah!” he interjected as quickly as he could. Then, pausing for a moment before asking, “Do you mind?”

“Nope. I’m not that hungry anyways. Just had a popcorn fest.”

He could picture her grinning as she said it; the thought of it brought a smile to his face.

“Okay. Well, I’ll be home soon.”

“Call me when you’re near, okay? I have to heat up the food.”

“Sure.”

“I love you.”

His smile was even wider. “I love you, too.”

Why JH and Adams Are My Heroines

    

 The first one is the number 1 tennis player in the world. The second one is an Academy Award nominated actress.

Quite a stretch if you put them together, but these two amazing, unbelievably talented people in their own fields of work are amongst that of my heroines. They make me laugh, they make me cry. They make me miss them more than anything in the world. Their loss is my loss to grief, and their win is my win to celebrate. They taught me how to be a better person; in viewing life, in love, in going after what I want. They make me stronger to get through everything, and they insipre me much more than I can put into words.

I learned tennis because I was inspired from Justine. I learned, for God’s sake, how to use a Photoshop from Miss Adams. Well, not from  her but definitely inspired by  her. I met a whole bunch of new people and become friends with them; all the while finding a couple of new role models along the way (hint: works at WDW and is always bubbly no matter what ). Some of them even become pretty close friends, and I just am very thankful for that.

There are times when I don’t think I’m strong enough to do all those things. And that’s when, like on cue, Joe would turn to me and say, “You have to be strong. For them if not for yourself.”