-

Tuesday, 1 November 2011

So I was looking at this tumblr http://fuckyeahganeca.tumblr.com/ , and I found it quite... interesting. See, I've never been to uni in Indonesia. After I graduated high school I went straight to Melbourne to do whateverit was that I did for 5 years. Anyway, anyway. Fuck I forgot what I was going to say. Anyway. Look, here's the thing. There is this one meme of the fuckyea guy (from the ragetoon comics) imposed on top of the Obama election poster. You know, the corny one, with the word 'hope' on it. Anyway, the poster said "made one tweet, got famous, don't need to be in the student committee to be famous". Now that got me thinking. That got my head workin, and that just got me thinking of what it would be like if I decided to go to school in Indonesia instead of Australia. First of all there is the problem of language. That's pretty obvious. I went to this school where I spoke English to the teachers. In hindsight I went to a school in Indonesia where everyone speaks, surprise surprise, fucking Indonesian. Well, I was just thinking if I actually go to a school in Indonesia, would I be able to communicate with anyone else? I don't think so. I wouldn't have a single goddamn clue how to write a technical essay in Indonesian, let alone a proper essay. Before I know it, I'd be the guy they would call 'bule' even though I clearly look more Indo than most Indos.

So anyway, that got my mind on this massive spin, right. I went through all the possible cross-points that lead me to this point. And of course, I wonder if I turn the other way, would I even be here? There is this massive understatement that it would be difficult to transition to a life in Indonesia. I think it'd be a bloody difficult thing. The culture, the people. Truth be told, I would probably quit the job on my first day because I have no intention of calling my boss "pak".

Thursday, 20 October 2011

Somewhere down, down
Down in the ocean of sound, sound
We'll live in slow-motion
And be free
With doors unlocked and open
Doors unlocked and open
Doors unlocked and open

Thursday, 15 September 2011

2011

So.

It's been a while since I write anything.

A while is a fucking understatement...... where should I start? Many things have happened between the last time I actively post stuff on this blog, which is May 2009, and now, September 2011. If this is a tv show, this hiatus would have its own flashbacks to show the audience what happened between the two seasons. So I might do that. I might jump back and forth in the narrative. And I got stories. Some of them are pretty sweet. Some of them are, eh, enlightening.

Why should I write again though? Is it because of this craving, this urge, this need to be noticed, to be loved, to be liked, to be funny, to get that attention that everyone so urgently need like air and water and sex? No, not really. See, the thing is, I like writing. I've stopped writing for a while. I've run out of ideas. Not because I have a mindblock, a writing block, whatever, it's just because I've stopped giving a fuck about writing. I got a whole lot of stuff, no joke, going on between two certain periods in my life. And the joy I get when I realised that I am willing to start writing again after such a while... it's almost exhilarating.

Exhilarating, huh. Where should I start..

Saturday, 11 December 2010

Airport

Baggage, check.
Passport, check.
Gifts, check.
Shirts, jeans, shorts, cold weather jacket, check.
Phones, camera, charger, check.
Turn off lights and close all windows, check.
Why do i feel like ive left something behind?

Sunday, 29 August 2010

I feel fucking awesome.

Saturday, 28 August 2010

I can't help but wonder why..

.. lalalalala is illegal.

I loved how I was walking down between Collins and Bourke St and it felt like I've walked three blocks already, and how the city felt so.. different. Twelve hours later, it started to fade out. And out. It is awesome but it is something I shouldn't do everyday, just like drinking. And apparently I needed my speakers to be extra loud when I was still 'up', and so I pulled my speakers really really close to where I sit.. imagine my surprise when I come home to discover how fucking loud it is. But jesus fucking christ, last night was pretty sweet. So I went to my friend's place in Chapel Street, then we went to Carlton Bar. It's this bar somewhere in the city, I wish I remember where we walked last night, because I couldn't remember anything from the station up until we reached the bar. Then we went to this other dude's place in Flinders Street. His apartment is a two storey apartment with an effin mezzanine. It was the coolest thing ever. Then we had some more lalalala. Until about 3 in the morning, then we went to China Bar, we were the only ones there because they were doing last call (Oi China Bar, don't be a pussy, how can you compete if you don't open until 5 in the morning..). Anyway that was pretty sweet. I was walking home with Nathalie, and it felt so fucking surreal. Not because I was walking home with possibly the prettiest girl I've met in ages (if you're reading this, then kudos, and sorry if this is super creepy, but you looked fucking amazing last night). I mean, I've walked home at 4 in the morning before, but the city never looked so fucking beautiful. And now I'm feeling normal again. Boo. Ah well, now I know if I do lalalala that much, it does not fade out within an hour, nor two hours, but for a whole effin day. It's like being tipsy, but without alcohol, i.e. this is pretty sweet. On my way back today I've never looked at the city and felt so different about it. It's like I'm falling in love with Melbourne for the second time. Fuckyea.

Friday, 27 August 2010

Even I hate myself.

~~So you're not the only one.~~

What the shit was I on about.

There is nowhere else to go but up.

Sometimes, in life, people fuck up. I fucked up. I don't know what rock bottom feels like, but this sure feels like hell. There is nowhere else to go but up. Give it time.

Time has been given, and time says "fuck off, I can't help you this time, buddy."

Nature can't speak for each and everyone of us.

This is the day that I realised I haven't grown that much in the past five, five-ish, years. I am still the same egoistical, angsty, ungrateful bastard that I was back then. But I'm still here, and I feel great. It's not that I don't feel I should change. I do need to change. This .. maybe these are just words, but I am sure of it. I will. And I am. But I'm moving forward at my own pace. I am evolving, and evolving hard. I'm like a fish thrown out of the water and forced to grow legs by nature. But let me tell you something, nature can't speak for each and everyone of us.

I have not slept in 18 hours. I probably wouldn't sleep until later in the late afternoon. I will probably clock in 28 hours without sleep by the time I go to bed. This is normal. This is probably normal. I'll sleep past Friday night, past the busy lights of Friday night, and the sound of the crowd of Downtown Melbourne. When the city sleeps, I'll wake.

And I'll start all over again.

I didn't think I slept until the 40ish hour mark. Badass.

Sunday, 15 August 2010

The Return

Hello kids,

I'm back.

Truth be told, I'm struggling to remember the details of what happened in the last 15 months. I'm not kidding. I remember bits and pieces of it, but the last one year has been a blur. So many things happened in so little time.

Maybe if I start writing again, I'll remember.