Quick Udpate

It's almost 4 AM, and I haven't gotten an ounce of sleep yet. The nearby masjid has already preparing for dawn azan, but my Youtube window is still playing the soft tunes of "Rainy Night Coffee Shop Ambience with Relaxing Jazz Music and Rain Sounds - 8 Hours".

It's been so long since I'm awake at this hour, especially on a weekday.

They say Thursday nights are the witching period of the week (I don't know if that's the correct term), but the only horror I'm facing is the scary thoughts of existential dreads.

I foolishly quit my stable job for... personal reasons, and now I have all this free time to entertain my inner demons instead.

But that's not why I'm having existential crisis. I've always thought that I don't really belong there. We have different values and I'm trying to pursue something else entirely. I did my best at work, and yet it didn't work.

I keep a jar full of tea variants in my room. Tonight I feel like brewing Jasmine Green Tea.

As I take my sips, I'm thinking about a lot of things. About what have been happening, what will be happening, what I want, what I think I want, how I can separate the things I really want from the things I thought I want, that kind of stuff.

I have a hundred of things that I want to write about. I have a list of writing ideas and prompts, neatly organized in a spreadsheet file with categories and such. I have big ambitions, but lack the resilience to chase them. I want to tell stories, but I'm afraid to be vulnerable. I keep having impostor's syndrome, yet still thinking I'm better than anyone else.

...

Wouldn't it be funny if tomorrow never comes?

And we would be stuck with whatever we have now, whoever we are now. Would we have any regrets? Or would we accept it with open arms, since it's what we've been waiting for?

November Update: Adult Version

Hi there, friends. I'm back.

I don't know if any of you is still reading this blog, this page, after long moments of hiatus and uncertainty. Seemingly no future promises or whatever. Hell, even I wouldn't know if I'm still alive at this point.

So much has been happening in the past... idk, year, I guess? That's just how long it has been since my last actual post.

👔 Part 1: The Day Job

I've been so "busy" with work that I haven't got any time to actually write. 

What I mean by "busy" is that since this is my first day job, I didn't know how mentally taxing and dis-inspiring a whole day of being cooped up in a windowless room for eight hours, only illuminated by dim white fluorescent lights, would be. It's insane how we let people live like this for so long.

At first, it was exciting, you know. I finally got a chance to prove myself, to be a functioning member of the society, putting my capabilities to use. But after like, two months, the excitement began to fade out, slowly, gradually. But it was still somewhat bearable, you know, still having a team of people around my age that I can collaborate with, and I still could steal an hour or two to open up my Google doc and write random stuff.

But then the *shift* happened. Long story short, I got into something I thought I could learn to like, but ended up being exhausted and burnt out mentally. And that's why I decided to get out of there.

So during me not updating this blog, I've gotten a job, and I've planned to resign, all in the same span of time.

The job's not all bad, and I actually have a plan to enhance what I've learned from the workplace during my possible period of resume gap.

I think I'm still shocked about the reality of a day job, and I need some time to process it. My inner child has yet to accept this.

🛏 Part 2: The New Place

I moved to a living place that's only five minutes away, by walking, to my office.

It's not as good as my previous share-house, of course. But it's closer to my office, to the city center, to my boyfriend's place, and the traffic to get here isn't as bad. The room is pretty small, while I have plenty of stuff I've accumulated from almost ten years of living in Bandung. But they have a decent shared kitchen with proper counter and dining area.

Although, the most jarring thing is the internet connection. The signal is atrocious here, whether it's the wi-fi connection they provided with the room fee, or the mobile data connection. I've had my BBC Radio listening session interrupted many times during my first two weeks here, and two video conference calls where half an hour was just spent trying to fix the connection.

And even when I tried to tether on my mobile data, the signal's also terribly unstable. I don't know what prompted this, but this inconvenience was enough for me to want to get out of this place. I mean, after all, nowadays we need internet connection for everything. Even when I write, I need to access the Google docs from the cloud.

Sometimes I kind of regret moving out from my previous share house, but I'm reminded of other types of convenience that this new place offered, ones that I took into consideration when I decided to move. I just didn't account for the shitty internet connection, since I assumed all living places now offer at least decent internet feature.

🏋️‍♂️ Part 3: The Gym

I go to the gym now. It's uncanny.

I get on a treadmill to do fast-walking and running. It's highly adjustable. I could run however fast I'd like to, without actually going anywhere, without having to face unpredictable terrain or traffic.

It's awesome. It's the perfect introvert workout.

I know I said I hated running, but it's only because I never tried workout before, and I usually pushed my limit before my body got accustomed to the movement. Now I know to just take it easy, and it's going pretty well so far. I didn't really need to go fast like an athlete. I have to play the long game, make it sustainable.

Since it's my first time going to the gym, my program consisted of building up stamina and muscle conditioning. Essentially what I do is warming up by running on the treadmill, then do some muscle workouts for my arms and abs for almost an hour.

The first two meetings with my PT was hell-ish. I got delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS) where I couldn't move my arms and back without "ouch"-ing every single time. Even going to the toilet was unbearable. Somehow it didn't make me falter to continue working out, though, I just found it kind of funny. What went on my mind was that "the pain is so much better than being bored at my job", somehow. I think I do have the tendency to enjoy physical exercises.

Now I'm on my second month of membership, and I have to say that I enjoy the process so far. I'm definitely more fit, physically, and I'm growing lean muscles. Just need to cut off those iced latte though!!

💺 Part 4: The Chair

Still in the spirit of physical wellbeing, I bought a new office chair for my new place.

I've always been complaining about my back and my posture. After a gym session in which I was reminded of my bad posture, and that I should puff out my chest more, I figured it was time for a more ergonomic choice for my everyday work - sitting and typing.

I bought a black office chair from Informa with hand rests. Of course I had to immediately refrain from wanting a gamer chair, since my room will be too small for that, and it will be unsuitable with the old rusty wooden small desk. So I bought a normal-looking office chair, with the wheelies and the adjustable back rest. 

It's amazing, really. A game-changer. I don't know why I didn't do this sooner.

What the new chair does is essentially shifting the focus of my room from my bed to my desk. Since the chair is highly adjustable and comfortable, I'm no longer resistant to sitting down to face my laptop. I can be more productive with my work, roll around my (small) room to get occasional water break, or roll to the mirror to do my makeup without getting up from my chair.

It has now become the centerpiece of my room, and I love it.

♨ Part 5: The Break

It's actually nice to take a little time off to acknowlegde everything that's been going on in my life so far.

I don't know what it is about working that gets me all worked up and forget about myself. 

Sometimes I feel like being adult makes me stupid. I need reminder to breathe, to stretch, to drink water, to keep in touch with my parents, to go outside and get a little bit of sunlight, etc etc. It's like I can't even maintain my own basic bodily needs without supervision, it's stupid.

What are we even chasing? Is it so important that we forget who we are, what we like, what we inherently need?

I could mark this off as a bad "stress management" or "time management", but I would rather blame it on the whole industrial revolution in general.

How would I have the spare time for a side passion project when after work all I want to do is sleep and not wake up? Spent mentally and physically, burnt out, uninspired, all for the kind of work where I'm not sure I could be something in.

I'm taking a break. Hopefully things could be better and more clearer for me.

Here's to a great end of year and whatnot.

Cheers,

T.

Radio Spotify

Finally, FINALLY! Spotify rolled up a new update that actually makes some sense.

I mean, who asked for goddamn pop-up info of an artist every time their song was playing on the desktop app? It’s an entire playlist full of their discography which I’ve been listening to for years, for God’s sake. The huge interruptive window really overshadowed the social feature that lets me stalk and silently judge my friends’ music taste – which, sometimes, can be a way for me to discover new music.

What the hell is this?

I’m a very passionate user of the streaming service, but sometimes I wonder what’s the thought process behind all these weird updates. Oh let me guess, one of those sophisticated longitudinal big data analyzed using predictive algorithms? What about you giving actual people a spot on your platform, just a pinch of that human touch, you know? Maybe feature some top-notch local playlist curator whose playlists do significant numbers instead of shoving only Spotify-made playlists up our throat whenever we try to find something new?

But I guess we did get the next good thing that takes actual people into consideration: The Spotify Jam.

It basically lets you listen to music on Spotify together, in real-time, with up to twenty people in the same session. One user would initiate the “Jam” feature, and a particular link will be open to share to your 20 friends or less.

I think I’ve tried out this feature several months ago with my partner, but only through a short-notice pop-up link, which I couldn’t really access other than that one time. I guess I was a “victim” of the A/B testing.

By the time I’m writing this, it’s still available on mobile apps only (what’s with desktop apps getting all the shitty updates anyway).

Based on our impromptu trial last week, the feature was going rather smoothly. The songs played on our respective devices with little to no delay to each other. When one of us skipped the song, it immediately also skipped on the other’s phone. When one of us changed the playlist, the other one also listened to the playlist. Etc etc.

It worked both ways, so not only one person can control the music and such. It worked for the two of us whose music taste overlapped and we listened with the same intention. I wonder if there would be chaos ensuing in extreme test cases like filling the whole Jam session with the maximum 20 users and having all of them fight for control over the music. My optimism guessed it would be too much hassle for the 20 people to connect through certain links just to troll (but I could be underestimating the internet culture).

So far we’ve used the feature to spice up one long-distance phone call when I was back home for the long weekend, and to listen together to a playlist we like while we hung out in a cafe (instead of the boring lo-fi ambience songs from a shitty speaker).

I still can’t come up with other possible use cases, though. I figured this is quite a niche feature that wouldn’t work unless you have friends or a partner that also shares the same music taste and willing to put in that extra effort to join via a link shared through other social media channels. Perhaps in the future we can directly join a friend’s listening session via Friend Activity feature? That’d be great.

Essence

It's been a while.

Hello, there.

I'm not sure what made you sort of come back, but I'm not really complaining.

Do you want to sit while I brew you a cup of tea? Or do you want to jump back into our usual shenanigans?

Oh. Oh, you're doodling your hands again. Okay, then. Good. Straight to action, I guess.

Pray tell me, what is it exactly that makes you decide to pay us a visit again?

Was it the new book that makes you feel things after a long time of being lifeless?

Was it the new layout of the room; sort of a 'feng shui' thing that resonates with your inner energy?

Was it the brief online meeting session with former classmates that reminds you of your current state, and realizes you of the fact that everyone does struggle, and it's only the beginning of another journey?

Was it the realization upon the shallowness of your closeted vanity, that it never really mattered much how you put on your everyday makeup or try to conceal your physical imperfection?

You would never be picture perfect. Not physical-wise. Not identity-wise.

It hits like raindrops on a March afternoon in Bandung. Sudden in nature, gradual in intensity.

It should never be about "being a writer". It's supposed to be "becoming one". Because you're never getting there.

Not until your first big project outshined all your impromptu blog posts. Not until at least one person feels the weight of your writing lift them up from their ordinary life.

But you should never strive for those things, because others' reactions are not for you to control.

Just like a physicist should never strive for a Nobel prize. It should only be the byproduct of years of dedication, hard work, and a little bit of luck.

The journey should always come first, above all.

Progress.

The fact that you're slowly accepting that it was not about impressions, fitting into a vain label, and limiting yourself into an ambitious identity you haven't lived for, it humbles you. Paradoxically.

It's the reflection in the mirror again. Your old friend. Your ever-existing muse. You wrote about her once, and now she makes you write again.

She's a bit different now, but deep down you know she's still the same person. You just kinda forgot to actually look at her. There. Head high. Eyes forward. What do you see?

Highlighted hair. Round face. Chubby cheeks. Small eyes. Big nose. Dry lips. Chin scarred with acne.

Someone who finished her graduate degree from one major, and is currently having a job at a different type of expertise. Someone who feels lost. Someone who feels like she's wasting away her potential, never chasing what she actually wants to do, never playing by her strength.

Wow. what a bleak image. Now I understand why you rarely glance at her again.

But so what if she's not perfect? She's you. And you are... you.

And who is this "you"?

That's a rhetorical question. Don't answer that, because there are no answer for that. For you are never fitting in a box ever again.

Breathe. Smile. Hurt.

And live again.

And write like the curious child that you are.

I hope the doodles persist long enough on your hand to serve as a reminder for you of this day. The day you begin again.

Welcome back.

I Want to Do It

It is indeed foolish to want to go back
To a place where your mind falls apart
To the dark times filled with hopelessness
Heavy sighs and endless abyss


But I long for the words to pour out of me
Like blood flowing from open wounds
All the rage and emotions manifested
Unto beautiful metaphor like nobody's business


I long for the sadness to well up inside me
Void so black it sucks my insides dry
Until I'm left with nothing but dusty ruins
A lifeless corpse with a name for itself


I crave for the soul to feel again
Wholeheartedly become one with the pain
Collecting misery to write upon
Lest I forget how to be human

I yearn the violent thumping inside my heart
Everything is stupid, everything is pointless
Yet when I pick up the pen, the ink is gold
And the lenses are rose-coloured


I want to do it
Even when I'm bleeding inside
Even when they tell me it's futile
Even when I have nothing to my name


I don't have the ears for speaking in tunes
I don't have the hands for drawing in sketches
I don't have the power to delegate my languages
All I have left are these strings of words


I'll etch them on the tree barks
Write them on paper sheets
Tattoo them on my scar marks
Type them sentences upon sentences


Let me soak in the moment
Fumbling around the tangled mess that is my wound
Raw, interrupted bleak picture of bliss
Just a shot at creating something beautiful

Wordling

I'm keeping a journal. I'm developing a routine. I'm trying to be functional.

I'm a human being.

My insanity, as they perceived, is merely a result of years of unhealthy life. My brain lacks the chemical it needs to live a "fulfilling life". Dopamine, serotonin, those things. Funny, isn't it? You'd think the world is irreparably damaged, only achievements would bring joy and meaning to your life, but it's actually just you missing a few sessions of workout that week.

Makes you think all those things we're constantly chasing are actually real.

Ah. Anyway. Since I've been diagnosed with a... sort of disorder, I've been instructed to take meds and apply healthier lifestyle. You know, things like regular workouts, healthier meals at regular intervals, and sufficient sleeping time. I've always underestimated the whole "healthy lifestyle" thing until it finally took a toll on my *mental* health. Guess Descartes was not exactly right when he proposed the duality of body and soul, but it's probably old news.

I still wanna transcend, though.

--

For years and years I've been living in insecurity and self-loathing. I figured the only way I could live a life of "me" that I could be proud of was to "create" a new one. or two. or more.

So there's an alter ego here, and another one somewhere else. I made them up, splitting myself into two, three, and more. Little Tays, Taffys, Titanias, Carreys, Grays, whatever. I named everything. They were me. They were bits and pieces of me. The cool one, the cute one, the aspiring one, the smart one, etc. Instead of accepting myself as a person with multifaceted personality, it's easier to just manage them separately as different people.

Living the stereotypes. Cool people can't be "uncool", right? And smart people can't "make bad decisions" because they're supposed to be smart! The complexity and dynamics of human nowadays are too difficult to handle. We should just accept people as our ideas of them, not who they really are (allegedly).

Everyone's a liar anyway.

--

Violence was never the answer. 

That's why, even though I was hurt, I was bleeding inside and out, I never, even ONCE dreaming of laying a hand on him. I didn't even have the heart to confront him about it. About anything, really.

I wanted to keep it beautiful.

So beautiful it was, but only in my head. It was never real.

There's a part of me that wished I could be deplorable enough to just be satisfied with the imagination of slapping the shit out of him. Literally. Palm on cheek. On head. Until he falls down. So I can kick him. Over and over. But it was never quite there. I couldn't put a face on it. Not his, anyway.

Or maybe I just have shit imagination. I don't know.

--

Were the alter ego not enough? I laid on my back, wondering. The lights were out, only glints of fluoroscent stickers reflecting outside lights above my head gave me a sense of vision. Once I was rather accustomed to it, I could sometimes tell whether it's only 11 PM or already 3 AM. There's a sense of dread, stillness, and hushed silence that just hit different after 2 AM.

Easy on the narration, girl, this is not a Murakami novel.

Alright, sorry. Where was I. I was laying on my back, reminiscing the (seemingly) good old days.

The way the conversation goes. The way he awkwardly laughs at my joke because he didn't seem to get it but he got the gist that I was joking anyway. The way his hands tucked into his pockets as he walked over to pick me up from lab.

Was any of that real or am I just being delusional again? 

Sometimes I forgot whether the meds helped me clear my head so I remembered the past better or they just lured me into the thought of a sweet memory so I was spared the misery of the bitter truth.

My phone buzzed again. I laid still. 

It's never going to be him anyway.

--

"What are you trying to say?" He asked puzzingly. I stayed silent. I didn't even know the answer.

"Okay, let's just... slowly back up..." He continued, "...and try to develop each of this piece one by one? See, there's potential here, and there. Almost everything. But you have to keep it coherent!"

I know. "I'll try." I nodded sheepishly, "Which one do you think I should go with, first?"

"Just pick at random." He sighed as he slumped back into his office chair, "Or follow your mood. I know mood is everything to you."

"Yes." I put down the tablet on the desk, beaming a smile at him, "Right now I'm in the mood for sushi."

"When are you ever not in the mood for sushi?" He smiled, looking tired. His eyes were almost red, and I could see sleepiness written all over his face. He was almost not paid enough for this, not that he was paid anyway.

"You know I'm kinda stumped right now..." I hesitated, "...mentally."

He went silent for a while. He grabbed his phone and started typing something up there, stopped as he glanced at me. "The usual?"

"Three hours or so."

Few more types, then he locked the device and put it down beside the tablet. "Granted."

I locked the door.

"Table or sofa?"

--

Beguile;

verb

to persuade, attract, or interest someone, sometimes in order to deceive them

Am I being deceived? Oh, the harsh reality! The falling side of falling in love! The humanity!

"You're laughing now, that's good." She chuckled, "Those days you were practically a walking corpse, girl."

"I really don't remember," I sighed, "but I hope I never have to get through that again."

"So you're really okay now?"

Am I?

"Yeah, don't worry about me."

But she will. Worry about me. Like she does.

--

Alright, alright. This is getting nowhere. I'm just doing a "pulp fiction" type of writing where I just write without thinking. The plot should write itself, it's okay for it to be trash, and whatever's written is probably anything I'm worried about.

Except there seems to be no plot, lmao.

I'm really confused now. I have all these ideas to write about, but there are like TONS and my mood doesn't seem to be supportive of starting to write any of those :/

These are the trash types of writing I should be putting on twitter or whatever, supposedly.

A-

I'll come back with better drafts.

Diam Sejenak

It's rather hard to pinpoint exactly my current emotion because it's a combination of many different conjectures.

I'm excited to have been offered a new job, nervous about the start of a seemingly "new life" (and the work itself, whether I'd do well and such), proud of myself to have had overcome the process and all, and now I'm still... expecting, anticipating. I've already said yes to the offer, but now they're hanging me out to dry. I haven't signed anything yet. Maybe tomorrow.

It just amazed me how quickly I'm bouncing away from my previous state of "eagerness" to become merely numb. Before this period of job recruitment that I'm following, I was struck with the sense of being eager with life. This was apparent in the way I wanted and actually wasn't hesitant to try new things. I was empowered with some sort of "agency"; an example is whereas I was bored, I would just get off my arse and take a walk outside. Doesn't matter where, I'd just grab my jacket and walk because I NEED the walk, while the rest of the thoughts can follow later. Usually I would overthink the act of just walking outside to various extent -- where'd I go anyway?; should I bring my stuff?; it's too steep and hilly in my neighborhood; etc. etc.

Gosh, it's only been like five days and I miss her already.

I suspect this whole job recruitment process was so abrupt and quick-paced that I was finished with it all before fully comprehending how I'm feeling about it. As if I was supposed to be nervous, but there wasn't  even enough time to. The announcement for the first assessment was sent to me less than 24 hours beforehand. Then, only one day lasted before I was called for HR interview, and only two days afterwards I was informed to attend user interview conducted in the next half an hour! I was out eating with friend during this, just enjoying my time, then I had to rush home for the online meet. Lmfaoo.

It was going so quick that I didn't even realize what I'm feeling. So now I'm just floating on the current, anticipating the next big thing.

In the meantime, I'm dumbfounded from my own projects. I already had huge writing (and reading?) projects set that I was ready to take during my (pessimistic take of another year of) unemployment. I was almost too ready to be chronically unemployed, just living my romantic life as an aspiring writer. Then, this storm unexpectedly hit. Wasn't particularly a bad storm, but there's still that sense of "my plan isn't going well because of these... disturbances" that made me unable to enact the routines from my initial schedules. 

Sure, logically, I can attempt to write my piece or something during the free time in between the recruitment process, but mentally I'm still unable to do so. I'm still learning to be flexible, but I'm not quite there yet.

What I'm saying is, it probably should have been expected that I'm feeling this way - numb. I had a plan, all of a sudden the plan was interrupted by another course of alternative plan, and now I'm gonna have a whole new life ahead of me only in the span of one week. (Might be exaggerating for some people, because it's not like I'm going to work abroad in a new country with an entirely new identity, but still) I should just accept this feeling, and pat myself lightly on the back (not too much!) for getting through with it all.

It's hard to actually be "productive" during the free time since I'm still processing it all. It's fine. It's an adventure, as long as your heart is beating.

You'll have time for your writing later. 

Bah.

It's all shit! I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip the manuscript up, but I can't. One, because it's all digital and written on word processing software. Second, there's no manuscript. Just pieces of shitty writing I compiled in one file. What the hell am I even writing about, and for whom?

I thought I'd do it just fine. What went wrong? I contemplated. I planned it all. I even wrote the outline for them all. 

It's all wrong. I should've strike while the iron was hot. The ideas were written down, but the intensity of the excitement and emotion that shrouds the entire atmosphere of the writing has died down. It's easy to remember what you wanted to write about, but it's hard to replicate the hatred, lust, sadness, or happiness that should have become the foundation of it all.

That's why Ray Bradbury told us not to think when writing. In quickness, there is truth.

Don't "jot down the ideas", unless you are really busy when the inspiration hits.

But I was just writing the outlines so I don't end up rambling! I opposed.

Yea. But just because you have a fridge, doesn't mean you can buy the veggies today and leave them out to be cooked on an indefinite future date. I did that mistake a lot, and guess what? I ended up never cooking again these days.

You and your analogies of writing... You say writing is like swimming, writing is like exploring a jungle, writing is like morning poop, and this? 

Postponing writing is like rotting your groceries in a fridge, I know it sounds stupid when you put it that way. Writing is just very multifaceted and personal to me, I see it in all my everythings.

So... What do we do now?

I guess we just write every "now", not "later"?

Whatever Floats Your Boat

I was on a drive with my boyfriend when I uttered how much I felt like a loser just because I was getting excited from taking a new route, and he said:

"Hey, it's fine. Life is about making stupid things as exciting as possible."

And he'd be right. Why should I feel bad for myself over this little thing? Since when did I accidentally invalidate my own feeling instead of embracing it? That might explain why I've been feeling like a miserable clusterfck these past days.

I have developed the habit of weaving myself a web of routine for me to stick my butt in throughout my life. I have easily left my engine running on autopilot, and sleep in the back seat. Having a routine is good and all, but when you begin asking yourself "what's the point?", you've probably outgrown the initial situation that you created the routine in.

And as an adult, I reckon that routine is hardly evitable. Still, I'm too stubborn to want to give in to the sense of boredom that could stop me from being curious or excitable. Still, also, it's difficult to maintain a sense of excitement when you're perpetually bored out of your mind, brain shutting down every now and then because there seems to be nothing new under the sun.

That's why I would quote him on that, a philosophy so silly yet so powerful. It's the little things, of course!

So what if I get a little giddy over just visiting a new supermarket, just going out for a drink in a new cafe, or listening to a new band, or just writing new posts on social media? The key is to find that stupid thing excitable.

And it's a good thing that I have someone close to remind me of how exciting the little things can be.

Spiraling Out

I took a deep dive again after a long time of hiatus. The strong smell of chlorine, saltiness of tears and steely... blood? Is that blood? It looks red, but I couldn't tell amidst all the water around me. I could feel the pressure tightening on me as I dove deeper. I tried to eyeball the depth of the pool, but the bottom pit was invisible.

Perhaps it was deeper than I remember?

It's been a while since I last went swimming. My limbs didn't work like they used to, but muscle memory kicked in one way or another. I remembered to take a long breath before diving. I remembered having to minimalize the rotation of my body. I needed this, I told myself, but I already knew the reason why I dove in the first place.

The lungs began to revolt. Air, it screamed. My legs and arms almost went numb, but at least I saw the bottom of the pool. Looks cold, desolate. Perfect.

It was only after the body began to relax itself that it started to make sense. When I was one with the water. A sense of surrender. A relief.

When my eyes fluttered closed. Black out. The words began to form itself. I was in too deep. Drowning. Floating. Whichever one was the truth, I felt both beyond my senses.

In the depth of my sorrow and self-wallow, I found the old-age demon. She's still there, looming. We almost forgot about her. And diving deep is the only way I would find her again.

---

They found me again, tearful, one hand almost reaching the box of sharp stationery, one hand hugging the speaker blasting my comfort playlist. The last thing I remember was journaling on my bed, thinking about my past and my future. I guess a certain kind of memory kicked in. Or perhaps I was intoxicated with the desire to write morbid things once again, after a while.

Why haven't you written again? She asked me. After being sane for the most part of my last few years, I outgrew the alter egos. I outran my demon. But at what cost?

The pieces have lost their edges. It's no longer jigsaw puzzles of enigma, just boring tiles of disposable pulps. The metaphors have lost their complexities. Just mere analogies as flat as pancakes under a truck. I gave in to the harsh realities, blending in with the faceless mucks. Just another replacable cog in the machine. I'm dying inside, and the antidepressants turned my brain away to the other side. See, we're being productive today. Great work!

I... I'll write again. I replied, meekly. She smiled approvingly, then disappeared.

I'm left with the messy bedroom, speaker still blasting, taken away from me. Worried faces surrounding me. I'm grateful, but at the same time, I wonder, how did I become such a mess? 

A dangerous dive, that one. Next time I won't be so careless.

Fitter. Happier. More productive.

Now that I know she's still alive, will it resurface this time?

Mancing Mania (Mantap)

   

Kurasa semua orang tahu konsep memancing. Ada yang memancing di sungai, empang, atau bahkan di laut lepas. Tongkat pancing disiapkan, benang pancing dilebarkan, dipasangi kail dan pelampung, dan umpan disisipkan di kail. Kemudian benang dipanjangkan hingga kail dan umpan jatuh di titik air yang dituju, sementara tangan memegangi tongkat pancing. Menunggu ikan memakan umpan.

Aku kira mencari kerja itu seperti memancing -- Kok nggak ada yang nyangkut?!

Nggak, kok. Maksudku sih, selagi belum ada ikan yang nyangkut, might as well enjoy yourself. Biasanya bapak-bapak memancing sambil nyebat dan minum kopi. Kalau kamu seperti aku mungkin bisa sambil dengerin lagu, atau baca buku, sambil sekali-sekali mengantisipasi gerak-gerak pelampung.

Karena kalau cuma nungguin jatuhnya malah frustasi, jengkel sendiri...

Tentu saja, probabilitas nangkap mungkin bisa diupgrade dengan mengganti joran yang lebih mutakhir, kail yang lebih bagus, atau umpan yang sesuai. Sebenarnya yang paling penting sih mungkin tahu dulu mau mancing ikan apa. Diteliti dulu biasanya ikan jenis itu sukanya umpan apa, dan bagaimana pola kegiatannya. Lalu menyesuaikan umpan dan perlengkapan serta perilaku memancing sesuai dengan ikan yang mau ditangkap.

Memang sepertinya aku tidak suka memancing.

Lulusan anyar perguruan tinggi setelah melayangkan surat riwayat hidup ke perusahaan.

(Vol. 14, 1977/#DoraemonHariIni Januari 2023) pic.twitter.com/glRY9z8Rkk

— Doraemon Hari Ini (@DoraemonHariIni) January 9, 2023

2022, Wrapped

I think I would speak for most people when I say the release of Spotify Wrapped is one of the most highly anticipated event of the year-end. Well, technically, it was released on early December (so as not to disturb Christmas holiday spirit, I guess). The interactive infographic-statistics of your 2022 music listening activities. Personalized, fun, and easily shareable to social media. 

Usually Wrapped is a hot topic a week before and after its release, early December. Social media pages are filled with people sharing their Wrapped, enhancing their self-identity in music listening, but some don't take it really seriously and turn it into memes. I'm just amused seeing it all though, silently judging my friends and acquaintances based on their music taste.

"Yeah, you do seem like someone who listens to Tulus."

or

"OMG you listen to Weezer a lot this year too? Virgin-ahh boi."

I personally consider this Wrapped moment to observe my own music listening pattern evolution, which in turn also reflects my daily lives during that year. E.g., in 2019 I started exploring a particular low-fi rock music scene which led me to a seasonal obsession to Car Seat Headrest, the Ohio-based band, and their critically acclaimed Twin Fantasy album. This year (2022) though, I mostly listened to music from artists I'm already familiar with. With extra newly developed obsession towards Bloc Party discography.

The year 2022 seemed to be the perfect comeback moment for my favorite indie rock bands that used to climb the chart ladders during my high school years. Casually dropping new bombs making it even harder to move on from my comfort zone.

The easiest example would be My Chemical Romance. Their most critically acclaimed album, The Black Parade, which lifted the emo genre to the mainstream scene, came out during my junior high school period. I remember passing around the physical copy of the CD in my class, and we even made the design of our class jacket influenced by it. Afterwards, they released another full-length LP in 2010, Danger Days, followed by five different EPs with similar theme, Conventional Weapons, in 2012, and cold-heartedly announced their split in 2013, breaking fans' hearts (including me).

All of a sudden in 2020 they announced they're banding again. As My Chemical Romance, and would begin touring. This was unacceptable, so the world closed their borders (due to Covid, but still, the re-banding was too strong they needed to be secured).

To make matters worse (or better?), with no prior announcement or marketing, they released a new single in 2022, The Foundations of Decay. An emotionally drenching track, with grungy mixing, and MCR-special lyricism that will move you into an impromptu karaoke session while bawling your eyes out. 

In the same scope of music scene, I believe Paramore was also pretty well-known. I remember listening to the Riot! album with my junior high bestie in her car sound system. Misery Business is still a solid and timeless anthem to reminisce that year period. More recent in the discography, their 2013 self-titled album Paramore was also well-received with catchy tracks such as Ain't It Fun and Still Into You. Their last full-length album, After Laughter, was released five years ago in 2017. At the end of 2022, they resurfaced with a single, This Is Why. An interesting single, because musically its approach is very contrast from the "Paramore we used to know". It was groovy, easy-listening on the surface but with many layers in-depth, and the lyrics aren't as in-your-face. To me they had move away from their "American emo rock" roots to evolve into more "British indie rock" palate.

Speaking of British indie rock, iconic bands such as Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party, and Muse also did comeback in year 2022. I don't really realize how popular these bands might be to everyone else in their high school times. I know that Franz Ferdinand's 2004 release, Take Me Out, was pretty recognizeable. Bloc Party's Banquet released in 2005 also brought their name into indie rock chart, also being featured in SSX game. Muse is probably the most mainstream of these three, with popular tracks such as Starlight, Supermassive Black Hole (2006), and apparently Uprising (2009) (according to Spotify)? Of course, since then, they have already released newer albums and tracks, with mixed reviews.

As a comparison, Franz Ferdinand's latest full-length album, Always Ascending, was released in 2018 with mixed reception due to its musical approach being too bland. Previous Bloc Party album, Hymns, released in 2016, was also less popular because it was too "different", and I guess minimalist gospel-like approach? Muse's Simulation Theory, in 2018, was also of mixed review. Personally, I enjoy the first half of the album, but beyond that it's just unlistenable.

Early 2022, Franz Ferdinand announced their new release, Hits to the Head, which was a compilation album of their popular tracks with remastered audio. The twist? An extra new single, titled Curious. Somehow I love this track so much, even though I know it's musically not FF's best. But as per Franz Ferdinand style, it is groovy, danceable, fun, and timeless. Probably following recent music trend, it wasn't very long, but in turn it ends on a high note. Since the month of its release, I'm still not tired of the track. Sometimes I even wake up with that song playing in my head.

Regarding Bloc Party, I just recently got obsessed with them because of a certain someone. Just when I was taking my time to appreciate their entire discography, especially their debut album and the second one, they appeared with a new album, Alpha Games. This album is... rock solid (pun intended). It still got the core of indie rock, but still brings novelty to the table. The most prominent one is the drumplay. It sounds so new and refreshing, with lots of playing in the hi-hat area. They also use stereo sound mixing, that there are moments where the music ricochets gradually from right ear to left ear. The tracks are fun and good for jamming, probably a bit too fun because the lyrics are... uh? Lol. Overall, from the fifteen tracks on the (deluxe version) album I enjoy the most Rough Justice, Day Drinker, and Strut.

August 2022, after a few months of announcement and marketing, increasing fans' anticipation, Muse released a new full-length album, Will of The People. Well... how shall I comment on this album...

Personally, I feel conflicted. This album is only good (or fun?) if you don't take it seriously. Because the lyrics are so... unserious. It feels too in-your-face and doesn't even try to be clever or using metaphor one layer deeper than blatant persuasion. For some tracks, musically there's nothing new, only reuses of their old guitar riffs (Kill or Be Killed sounds like The Handler). In other tracks, they experimented too much but falling flat, such as the synth-heavy Compliance and ...Halloween. In the early release time, my boyfriend and I only listened to them to laugh at the ridiculous stance of the lyrical and musical direction. But now it kind of grows on me, although I still cannot sing all the lyrics (because it's too goofy). I can stomach Won't Stand Down, and the title track Will of The People can be listened to mindlessly to hype up.

Lastly, it's not a musical review/ramble without mentioning Radiohead. But they're not making a comeback this year. Instead, the dominant lead duo Thom and Jonny are teaming up with Tom Skinner as drummer in a new side project, The Smile. And they are the one releasing new full-length album in year 2022, titled A Light for Attracting Attention. Fifteen tracks combining jazz, grunge rock, and mellow ambient at times. Layers of solid jazzy drumworks, clean strums of nylon guitars, saxophone, and Thom special haunting vocals. (I'm not a certified musician, so I don't know how valid my descriptions are.) The Smoke is an immediate classic to me, one of my Spotify Wrapped 2022 top five. I also love The Opposite and Thin Thing. Especially for their drumming.

Right. So I think I've rambled a lot of my favorite 2022 music releases. More than I think I would.

I'm wondering if 2022 had blessed us with lots of comebacks, how will the 2023 musical landscape follow-up to this situation? Will they release singles again? Is this the moment for the comeback of a world tour? Or is this the beginning of another five-year hiatus from our favorite bands?

I don't know. Let's hope for the best. To 2023 and future great releases!

Naughtmare

What do people usually see in their nightmare? A monster? A faceless figure looming over their bed in the dark of the afterhour? A crawling woman with broken spine and mouth full of blood hounding at you at the speed of sound? Tall, black figure with nothing but a gaping mouth for face and claws for fingers, moving at the ticks of seconds while you paralyzed in endless fear and confusion?

We all have nightmares. Sometimes. I think. Most people do.

I had one. A monster. Unnamed creature. Unspoken characteristics. Nightmares are always like that, they are amalgamation of things you know and can label, but together they make up something outside the realm of familiarity. Looks like goblin, you'd say, but they're not. Looks like 'kuntilanak', you'd say, but they're not. But more than not, they all evoke similar sense of fear. Primal. Instinctive. You just want to run. Yet you can't.

I was there, in a dark room. A bed; but not a bed. Something soft that you can sit on. Is it even a room? The breeze indicated an open window, but it was too much wind to be called breeze. A scream, but there's no sound. Urge to run away, but every inch of muscle move takes eternity that expands indefinitely. My limbs were disconnected from my brain, they were their own entities now. They moved outside of my control, clenching and unclenching involuntarily.

I stared at that creature for what seems like forever. It's a she. A powerful entity, a species so ancient they roamed this Earth since the dawn of time. Yet at this moment, she is weak with her primal fear. 

I grew larger. My claws dangling from the tips of my limbs, further away from the ground. My neck -- should it be called so-- cracked back and forth, whilst our eyes -- should you call them so-- still transfixed to each other.

I was the monster. I was trapped inside this marionette of phantasm, watching everything unfolds in first-person perspective. I felt the terror filled the room. The undulating, unspoken scream filled the air. I watched this poor girl cowering in silence, wishing for this moment to end. I felt bad. I felt guilty. I, too, wanted that moment to end. The guilt, of course. I was okay with all that happening, but please spare me from the guilt. I don't want to feel like I'm the bad guy in this situation. Even after I saw paralysis took her voice away, because of my existence.

Why are we so afraid of the ugly?