OK Computer and Average Architecture

I still remember when Radiohead’s third studio album took the rock music scene by storm. A diverse take from their previous album, The Bends, which tastes a lot like Britpop-genre flavor—I’m sorry, since we’re talking about a British band, flavour— containing singles that are more radio-friendly, and already proven more popular. Sure, it added variety to the mainstream music, but instead of continuing the formula, the band decided they would grind their musical gear and produce something far bolder. Appropriately titled OK Computer, it experimented on sounds and thematic effects on a whole different level, combining intrepid guitar riffs with an orgy of xylophones, mellotrone, synthesizers, digitally mixed samples, basically pushing the boundaries of instrumental madness, engulf them in rich lyrical masterpieces. Every track on the album flows with such coherence, that each transition takes you to another step in this journey to the center of the universe. Some may describe this as a concept album, but I recall an interview where Thom (vocalist) didn’t think of it as such.

Now, I'm not here to do a full-on review of said album, but I gotta say that... because it was released in 1997, just two years after I was born, the first sentence of the previous paragraph is questionable. I just wanted an excuse to praise one of my (and possibly a lot of people’s) favorite albums of all time. I particularly like the fact that this album was released in the 90s and grazed the topic of technology, which was kind of ahead of its time.

A few months ago, my class watched a documentary movie about the internet. We’ve seen a lot of ‘internet movies’, right? Hackers, security breaches, furious typing and coding sessions. But it was not that exciting. Emphasizing the documentary part, it was made exactly in 1990, when internet was not as widespread as the present. I forgot the title (and my former classmates forgot too, all 40 of them holy shit), but I remember what was in the movie: a group of computer scientists describing how the internet is going to change our lives in the 20 years’ time, and actors’ enactment of people’s daily lives using the internet.

They explained how it would be very practical in the future; if you want to go to a romantic getaway with your partner you can just book tickets via internet. At this explanation the two supposedly couple acts were relaxing in a backyard garden of a castle-like building, sitting on rattan outdoor chairs as the man was sliding his index finger on a touchscreen monitor, on a small table between them, showing a picture of Eiffel tower – which I assume where they wanted to book a travel ticket to. The monitor wasn’t attached to any devices like computer or TV, as if it’s inherently part of the table.

Another scene illustrated a family gathering in a living room with the individual sofas facing a mere blank wall, and as the father adjusted the control panel, the whole wall turned into a television screen. This is just a greenscreen technique any YT content creator can make nowadays, but back in the days it might be a tad impressive to have in your house. After all, we still get adverts for huge flat-screen TVs even though there hasn’t been one as large as your living room’s wall. There was also one scene on robotic innovation, where they tried making a robot as human as possible, giving it a skin face, a name, and programming conversations for it. Nowadays, no engineer nametags necessary to access it in a restricted lab; you can easily find it in a YT creator’s “Let’s Play”. There's a lot on Eviebot years ago already.

My point is, as someone who’s grown up in an analog-to-digital environment transition, it’s fascinating to see how people in the 90s tried to predict how technology, in particular the internet, would develop the future – which is to say, now. What I found most interesting is, even though the scientists’ predictions are mostly true – things are far more practical, connectivity at the touch of your fingertips, artificial intelligence closing in to human’s – it’s the miscellaneous things that set the decades apart. It’s the website interface, the interior design, the cybernetic algorithm, the camera works, and the economic and social implication of technology.

I mentioned about the rattan furniture in the documentary, because I felt it was a little out of place and old-fashioned in the face of a touchscreen era. Sure, we could easily go to a website (or even mobile app) to order a plane ticket fast now, but it would be via a desktop computer or a smartphone, not a darn wooden endtable in the backyard. The wall-into-cinema screen façade? Basically home theater, with outdated leather sofa. Now that I think about it, I don’t see a lot of present day families who gather around a television for a scheduled show, since everyone in the household can get their own devices and watch everything on-demand. This may be one of the social implications the documentary failed to predict (or just didn’t want to). It reminds me of the viral video of a family demonstrating how to use the internet.

It's amazing to see the technical aspects in technology progress, and the little accompanying things evolving around with it. We used to have a large desktop computer in our house, with fat CRT monitors and CPU that still has diskette slot in it, no bluetooth, no internet. I think I remember playing The Sims 2 in it, but it was near before said computer was retired and we switched to a laptop. Right now, no current desktop computer comes without internet and bluetooth hardware (unless it’s for business purpose I guess). CD drive was still a requirement because USB drives used to have 128 MB capacity, not 128 GB.

I remember when communication was done only through phone call or text in a sliding feature phone; I got to call my mother with prepaid balance, counted per every second I talk. Now, I can video call via internet with my whole family on my touchscreen smartphone all at once, using mobile data costing me far cheaper than the voice call used to. Economy!

Even when I got my first Android phone, touchscreen I might add, mobile internet wasn’t as pervasive. I still mainly used text for communication, and multimedia messages were fairly hard to send because the provider didn’t really support it without another subscription first. If you wanted to surf the internet, you browse in a computer, and connect LAN cable because WiFi hotspots were also scarce. Somehow, though, it didn’t stop my (mainly male) classmates from competing in online games. I, on the other hand, competed with strangers in an all-text internet forum debate (I’m glad they shut down my Yahoo! Answers account). Now internet webpages use more interactive elements instead of just a wall of text (like this blog; wow am I old fashioned).

I don’t think any of the scientists in the documentary could ever predict how massive social networks would grow up to be. I mean, it’s one thing to say that we’re going to be easily connected to people from all around the world but it’s another thing to forecast the sheer influence of a single internet persona that it transcends the supposedly virtual platform. To be fair, he has been a contributor in the platform for quite a long time, so it’s kind of justified. YT had been widely known as a video-sharing website ever since I was in junior high, and it’s still dominating. But of course, things change; the community expands, the website format evolves to simpler, modern interface, contents massively grow, and… well, the privacy policy changes. So if you’re a late aspiring YT content creator (like me), you should probably check thoroughly, because your lipsyncing video might get a copyright strike.

The internet… it’s a strange thing. It’s like a fertile soil you can plant your seeds in, if you decide to carefully nurture it. Online business flourishes, online community grows, and online influence escalates. During my freshman year, I had to walk or hitch a ride from my friend if I had to go home past 8 PM because it’s the most economically feasible route. After two years of staying in a boarding house, I had to move because I wanted a location more accessible to my campus, especially one I could walk home to at night. Now, online bike rides are available 24 hours (at least in the central part of this city), safer and (relatively) cheap. If it was a thing when I was a freshman, I would probably never had moved. This business had only been widely known in over the course of three years, and it already advanced so much it’s established its status as a unicorn startup. Business!

In retrospect, I just want to say that it’s been exhilarating to experience this shift, this lifestyle transformation, for better or worse. To see something that once was deemed so alien and restricted, becoming an extensive part of our daily life that we just undergo without second thought. When we’re waiting in a queue, we could always pull out our smartphones and immerse ourselves in a whole different, yet adjacent world. It’s polarizing, but it’s here. The soil just keeps on fertilizing.

“I don’t think we’ve seen the tip of the iceberg. I think the potential of what the internet is going to do to society, both good and bad, is unimaginable. I think we’re on the cusp of something exhilarating and terrifying. It’s an alien life form.” - David Bowie predicting the internet in 1999.

February Update

Uh, well, yeah, happy new year I guess?

I haven't been updating in quite a while, I know. February is almost ending and I still haven't written anything since the start of 2019. For a regular blogging activity, new years are supposed to be a good time to be writing year flashbacks, updates, resolutions, and stuff. At least for me. I'm aware of this, but somehow I just couldn't bring myself to write anything. This is dangerous stuff.

Back then, I used this blog to facilitate my writing skill, as well as an exercise to warm my brain up before doing something more productive. Even when they're just rants or random fiction. It also serves as a way to reminiscence; how I used to phrase things, how I used to think about things; a memory lane, if you will.

I could write paragraphs about my morning coffee, as tacky as it may seem. I could picture fictional, cheesy situations and put it down in a short story. I could rant on and on about homework and deadlines. Small things, but it's just for me, and at least I could write, you know.

I've been stashing a ton of prompts to write, but somehow I just can't finish it. There has been a lot of things going on, since my last post in this blog months ago, that I want to share; small events, new habits, new experiences, new music I listen to, a few fictional narratives as well. If you follow my personal twitter account you probably had seen my poll on which blog post I should work on first -- which was in January -- and that time, I was certain that I would write about those. I already had 5 post titles in the making, had the start and ending figured out, but somehow... in the middle, I gave up. Not 'give up' give up, I just felt it didn't come naturally, so I tried waiting until the inspiration strikes again. Apparently it just decided not to show up.

In a sense, I know darn well that I should be doing something else. This... something (not blogging, btw), it's been holding me idle for so long, keeping me in a stalemate with myself. I keep postponing doing it, and that's... bad, because whenever I'm not doing that 'something', I feel guilty and restless, thinking "oh man, I should totally be doing that", but when I try to do it, it's... difficult? It's like there's no guideline so I don't really know how to start and I end up avoiding to do it.

You could probably say that I'm in a state of constant battle with myself. This isn't a call for help, per se, but if you could advise me on anything that would be great thanks.

Maybe this whole update is just an excuse, but it gives an upfront explanation that I could hold responsibly. Maybe, just maybe, as I finish writing this, I would get my brain in the mood to type what I've stashed away.

Cheers.

'Tis the Rainy Season

It rains every single day lately.

I know, I know, you're probably already tired of me writing about how rain is the perfect weather to write, and then I'm gonna start rambling about hot coffee in a warm room reading book and listening to lo-fi hiphop and acoustic medley of my favorite rock songs. Classy, comfortable, safe.

I wish that was the case.

Because with thunderstorms like this outside, it's definitely BMTH or OM&M time. Blasted loud on your crystal-clear speaker you don't usually bring out the full potential of, because tolerance, but now definitely calls for the moment. Screaming at the top of your lungs to incoherent choruses and 155 BPM guitar riffs. I still have a book on my hand, though, and the coffee's long downed.

Sometimes it rains just when you're finished with class. You take out your umbrella and earphone, and you decide to walk home instead of taking the bus, listening to acoustic medley of your favorite rock songs. Oh, I said that already. The raindrops falling atop the nylon canopy of your umbrella, following the beat of the song. Profound. Your boots tap against the small puddles scattered on the pavement, one hand in coat pocket. It smells like dirt mixed with fresh water. You take in the earthy scent. Pluviophile.

But I lied. Nobody wants to walk home when it rains. Everyone ubers their ass home, that's why the fare skyrockets as soon as the first drop hits the roof. Public transports become packed like crushed sardines in a tin box. Even when you didn't forget to bring your umbrella, the wind was too strong for your trousers and shoes to avoid the droplets. You're torn between shielding for your backpack or shoes, and end up soaking both.

Even when you decide it was raining light enough to be romantic to walk home, you're not in a music video, you're not in a movie. Drainage was shit, uneven potholes give way to large puddles which depth you're unaware of, and before you know it your sneakers are muddy mess beyond recognition. Some asshole in a car thought it would be funny to drive past by, full Initial D-style, and you were too late to protect your side with your umbrella, one of its metal ribs broken, limp in defeat.

You were lucky enough to have a roof to get home to, though, I reminded myself of a silver lining I could salvage from this situation. And at least you didn't get struck by lightning or something, and that one sounds more like a jinx. But thankfully I was already at the doorstep, shaking the water off my sky-blue (although the sky right now is dark grey) umbrella and fumble with the keys.

"I get the romanticism of walking under the rainy sky, I really do," I said as I tossed my soaked everything to a plastic bag, making a mental note to contact the laundry service when it's sunny later. "My main complaint is the drainage system, also maybe I should get a bigger umbrella."

Most of it all, I get the romanticism of staying inside a cozy room sipping a hot beverage, in contrast of the cold and thunderous atmosphere outside. It's the only way to enjoy this situation, or at least avoid the harsh reality of it. I prepared my electric kettle to brew a cup of steaming hot coffee and warm myself up. Clothes changed to dry, my mug and dripper prepped on my desk, my bluetooth speaker connected to my iPod, and I set myself on the bed with a new book. Kettle on.

and whop. Blackout.

Like I said, it's metalcore time, because sometimes you're just not blessed with the chance to enjoy yourself.

I wish your rainy days hold better than mine.

Bandwagon XI

Ever since I was in junior high school, I was always a fan of bands.

The year was 2008. Internet was not widely accessible through your conveniently reliable pocket-sized computer yet. Spotify was not a thing. If you wanted to listen to music, you get your arse to the local music CD shop and buy a whole album. If you're more tech-inclined you went to limewire or napster and burn a couple of tunes into your monochromic-screen mp3 player or polyphonic feature phone.

MTV was still a primary resource if you're into the music scene, and their top 40 charts were generally still filled with rock songs. MCR was a huge topic, musical and sub-cultural. Thirty Seconds to Mars new music video during lunch break. Muse dropped their biggest album yet and Starlight made their way into mainstream. Avenged Sevenfold's copy of City of Evil album was handed over during recess to curious eyes in my classroom. Green Day thrived as their single American Idiot sparked controversy. Special rock segment in TV programs in allocated time. All in all, it was a thriving era for rock bands.

I wasn't one to avoid it; in fact I found it enticing. Just ask my former classmates how transparently obsessed I particularly was with Linkin Park. I was in their official fanbase, I contributed writing to fansites, I checked out their news regularly, following their tour dates and videos of live shows one day afterwards. There was not a single day I could shut up talking about them.

Years passed by. New albums were released. Internet became even more widespread, more accessible and more clever. Algorithms recommended me more variety of music to listen to, as I found more and more bands to take notes of, and video streaming services provided more contents to my liking. My computer was filled with 16 GB folder of music, and I religiously updated my iPod. Growing up in the 00s, it was mostly bands, and I liked it loud with fast-paced drum beats and pounding guitar riffs.

It was not until high school that I picked up my first guitar. My family wasn't musically inclined; the only instrument in our house was a small violin my brother bought for an extracurricular activity, which at the moment only gathered dust on the top of the wardrobe. I bought yamaha guitar, an oversized stringpiece that's seemingly too big for my stout figure. Got myself a private teacher but what do you know, apparently classical guitaring and rock 'n roll guitaring are two completely different things.

I quit after three months.

I was oblivious to this fact at that time, but I was clearly tone deaf. I had no trouble memorizing chord patterns and finger positions, but synchronizing the sound produced by guitar strum and the actual note was a struggle. I couldn't differ between a C and G, let alone comprehending how to tune the damn thing. The whole time I just mixed and matched between the chords people had written out and strumming it accordingly, but it just didn't come naturally.

I just stared in awe as my instructor showed me which fret I should hold on to for each verse, after I told him a song I wanted to play on guitar. It was probably a basic knowledge for him (and maybe for you), but it wasn't for me. It was beyond my understanding how someone could pinpoint exactly what chord to strum after only listening to it the first time.

I think at one point he said that if I can manage to play guitar classically, mainstream songs become easier to play. I just nodded when he said it, thinking he got a point, and I was already eager to be that girl in class who plays guitar flawlessly. I wanted to channel him, playing people song by request without looking out google for help or seek shelter from ultimateguitar.com. I didn't know it then, but it was the equivalency of taking Gardening 101 in a culinary academy to prepare a gourmet meal because you want to try cooking chicken alfredo. It's expensive and it takes a long time, while your stomach is already grumbling for dinner.

But when you've spent your early days eating gourmet meals, you just kinda assume it's a basic privilege for everyone to get and to give. It didn't occur to you that people spent years and years of their lives grinding away at the culinary academy to bring you a sufficient plate of delicacy. Just because you enjoy eating fancy pasta doesn't mean it's your path to become an Italian cuisine chef. It's possible, some shonen manga would even consider this as their main concept, but in real life it doesn't always work.

So for me back then, it was never about the music.

It was more about the feeling of being in a community larger than yourself. It gives you something to naturally connect with other people, hey yeah I listen to x too! great band! Like I said, I've contributed in fansites, I met many fellow fans online from all around the world, it was a refreshing way to occupy my spare time and it just so happened to be.. bands.

I liked the sense of teamwork they emit. A group of different people, but like-minded in a particular way, working together with family-like bonds, getting through hard times side-by-side, producing sounds and words that speak to other people, until they managed to rise to fame. Surely fame is beside the point, but without it their music would never reach me, a mere student stuck bored in a classroom in some third-world country unreachable from their world tour. Physically they were far, far away, but information behind computer scene is beyond fast, you would find out where they are touring right now without having to ask. I liked watching their interviews, discovering more personality traits of each individuals, seeing when one of them improvised on stage, pinpointing the exact outfit for each show venue, and so on.

But beyond the shallow reason of idolatry, of course there's the subliminal point of message. Even when I didn't understand music, I could understand the emotion it evoked inside me. And it was one thing you can't take away. You can argue how musically bad or lyrically cringy an album is, but you can't say that I don't feel powerful listening to it. The bands I listen to, they were angry, they were fast, the vocals are screaming, the choruses explosive, the lyrics gargantuan. They were channeling my inner rage I didn't know I had, and it was amazing.

Growing up, the bands I listen to become less angry, as did my emo level. It was no longer two-layer electric guitar distortions, but two actual guitars: steel and acoustic. Four chord songs became eight chords with weird annotations like #7 (got it from UG, I still can't play guitar). Shut up when I'm talking to you turned into the water's clear and innocent. I found out that you can still make the music fast and pounding, without so much of a rage. But yeah of course I still listen to bands, old habits die hard.

In a sense, I still kind of regret that I didn't seize a chance to play in a band while I had the time. I know what I did wrong; I was supposed to learn guitar with a group of friends, jamming along to songs we all know and like, embracing the poorness of our untrained vocal cords, collectively developing small callouses on our left-hand fingers, writing out cringy lyrics during class hours and passing the notes on among us, jokingly cursing that one person in the group who was clearly more talented than the rest of us, all done together.

Perhaps it's just a case of 'the grass is always greener on the other side'. My life would probably become so much different if I was actually in a band. I could be cherising it really much and still have former bandmates I can talk to now. I could be regretting that decision because somehow I got too caught up in playing and neglected my academic responsibility. It could be that it's not so much different, that I still graduate with a bachelor's science degree and I just play my jukebox part whenever there's an event. There's no telling.

It's just among these what-ifs that I could do so my adolescence years were less lame, I know for a certain that I can't change the past, but that doesn't mean I should be tone deaf forever, right?

Maybe it's time for me to pick up the guitar again.

Run Away with Me.

Hello,

I hope this post finds you in good health, as I do. The weather has been relatively unforgiving, with the feet-soaking thunderstorms and otherwise looming grey clouds haunting you with the possibility of unpleasant ride home. Both of my only beater pairs of shoes have already fallen victim to the harsh street puddles and asshole car drivers, and I wish this would not happen to you too. Take care of your sneakers and health, and eat well.

Speaking of eating, I found a new shop selling dumplings that you might like. It was a fairly old shop, but they started selling dumplings only recently. This might sound random or out of place, since we never talked about dumplings, but I figure you would always appreciate good food.

Alright, enough with the chit-chat. I know we don't always see eye-to-eye. I know there's always this unspoken boundary between us. I know you don't believe in my conviction. My dreams are not exactly what you call ideal, nor yours are what I call realistic. But on the middle ground, where we can holster our guns and sip from our flasks instead, I can see it in your eyes: something similar we both have been holding back to say.

Some might say it takes one to know one. I'm a person of subtlety, and as quizzes mesmerize me, I found enjoyment in deciphering how you speak in roundabout way. I would know, because sometimes that's what I like to do too. Some might say it's downright annoying, but probably I have too much spare time.

Empathy was never my strong suit, so I might not know how I can help and in which way it's best to do it. But discrepancy, on the other hand, is pretty fun to spot. The footshift, a moment's hesitation, a little glimmer in your eyes, the eyebrow twitch. The tone of curiosity. A bit of passed judgement. I might be wrong, though.

My problem was never yours, and vice versa. Our ways of coping might be different, but there are some cards we both lay bare on our poker table. The dealings of burial. The denials. Tell me, mon ami, when you were set out to bury the seed in your backyard, did you mean for it to be nurtured with water and rich soil, for it to grow into something big and sturdy, giving fruit and protection for your future legacy? Or did you mean to leave it out to die, to rot in between other junks already feets deep within, to be forgotten by time?

I've had my share of junk-filled backyard. Sometimes I wish I could just erase it all, delete the whole backyard and create new one, like in the game The Sims. Sometimes all I wish was to reset the whole game, make a new person, back to day one. I'm only less than a quarter century away, and I already have this gaping hole of regret gnawed out inside of me.

Ah I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make this ramble about myself yet again. My point is, at the current pace the junks are flowing in, I would no longer have a backyard soon. Mortgage is skyrocketing, houses with backyards are getting scarce, I'm selling, things are overwhelming, you know how it is. We talked about this once.

So here's my proposal: Pack your bag to a bare minimum. I will be waiting for you next Sunday at the local train station, 9.30 AM. I will give you an hour or two to decide whether you only want to see me away or buy the same ticket as I do.

See you. Or not.

Post-Wall

Brainfreeze. Not the ice-cream type. Just... brain, dead. Shut off. Shut down, like your computer after a long day of work.

I feel a storm approaching. A gigantic wave, tsunami they called, is heading fast towards me. I just... stood. Numb. A small part of me wanted to give in to the overwhelming power of water, immersing my soon-to-be-dead body. Drowning is not the most pleasant way to die, but then, what is? Dying in your deep slumber? Injected poison into your bloodstream? Quick, clean shot to the brain? Or being hunted by a professional assassin with astounding knife skill?

I read a lot of shonen manga when I grew up. Not anymore, of course. I always thought I wanted to be Zoro, but in reality I’m more of a less-developed character of Usopp. The time that girl said she would kill me because I deliberately (but not really, just to see what would happen) throw a tube to her stomach (it’s a long story), I broke down and admitted my mistake, that I didn’t mean it, that she wouldn’t actually try and kill me. She was a lunatic, but not one you wanted to mess around with. She said she forgave me and asked, “did you know why I forgive you?”

Because you are the child of tomorrow, she said. She rambled on a lot of things I didn’t remember, but I was crying in relief, because I didn’t die that day.

My point is, I can occasionally joke about wanting to die, but when it’s actually in front of my eyes, I don’t kid around.

So the girl was just one entity inside my dream, and the tsunami is the frequent one. The storm is a metaphor, but it’s there.

Yet my brain still freezes. What do I do?

I Wrote A Stupid Thing

..I wrote a lot of stupid things, actually. lol. Don't we all?

You're having kind of a free day, alone in your room. Not knowing what to do, you decide to open your laptop. After two minutes of scrolling your FB feeds and deciding it wasn't worth your time, you close the browser tab as you take another sip of that freshly brewed coffee from the old mug you've had since college day 1 (not the coffee, you bought that pack last month).

And then your hands subconsciously type up your blog webpage link. And before long, everything inside pours out. Your hopes and dreams. Your guilt and fears. All your past and future. We all went in a little rowboat. That dumb fiction about your crush three years ago. The weather. Review of your favorite comics. History of your favorite YouTuber. Just everything, you know.

So it's a national holiday today. And what better way to start the day other than brewing a mug of hot coffee and writing stupid thing in your blog about how you wrote stupid things?

Not really, tho, I started this day by listening to Fitter Happier. Just normal stuff.

Holiday or not, I normally start the day by making coffee. Just boiling some water in the electric kettle, as I prepare my filter paper, dripper and coffee ground. The mug is always there by the bedside, patiently waiting for me to greet him each and every day. One cup of coffee ground on the filter paper inside the dripper, and I pour the hot water in. I let the coffee drip until half of the mug is filled, then pour the rest with hot water.

In short, I made an americano. No sugar or milk, because life's too short to wash coffee mug everyday. No sugar means no fuss with ants, and no milk because I can't be bothered to buy grocery as part of my routine.

Making coffee is less about me being obsessed with this roasted, burnt black bean, than a ritual to wake my senses up. Have you ever heard that if a person is depressed and has difficulty finding a reason to get up in the morning, it helps to set a list of small tasks to be done? Well, brewing coffee has been on my list for quite a while, and it has become a habit until now. If you consider the weather in Bandung, the warmth of the fresh brew also helps dealing with the chilly wind.

Sometimes I would wake up to the clock striking 12 pm, do the whole coffee thing, and then sit on the edge of my bed looking at the steaming hot coffee, eyelids heavy, head aching, barely conscious, "why did I even make this coffee?"

It's not like I have something to do. But sleeping again after 12 pm is highly inadvisable at best.

A friend of mine once spent a night here, and the morning after I offered if she wanted a coffee. She said no, so I brewed myself a cup as usual and none for her. She asked stuff like, "why do you even brew coffee?" and I thought to myself good question, why? and then I answered along the lines of, "so it reduces my need to sleep again" and then she asked again, "so what if you wanna sleep again? it's weekend." and then I thought again to myself: good point, why do I even need to wake up?

You see, it's a good thing to sometimes accompany yourself with another person so it shed some new perspective on your life. She pointed out a habit that I wouldn't otherwise notice has rooted deep within me. It has become an automatic thing to brew coffee right after I wake up, doesn't matter if I have anything to do or not that day. It had been on my list for quite a while that I don't even recall I have a list anymore.

When I first started setting this routine on my list, there was a spark of excitement, because I find something to do to help me avoid going back to sleep and loathe myself for wasting my time away. But right now, it has integrated into the whole 'waking up' pack that I barely feel doing anymore. There was no spark anymore. It's kind of like you've been working in a job for quite a while and you get bored doing it. I guess I need a new routine to wake me up.

Maybe I'll just get back to sleep.