Careful What You Wish For

"Careful what you wish for cause you just might get it". I spent most of my times in 2k14 nagging to Allah; about my love life, about my work, about everything, and it all lead me to a big question of "what is it you're planning to do in your wild and precious life?". I used to believe that I was born to do more than being good enough at things, but indeed, a lot of things in 2k14 made me doubt myself.

God knows it so well how craving for a better job I was, to have a roller coaster ride and challenges to face everyday, to get out of my comfort zone, to learn a lot of new things that excite me, and most of all, to have a job I would say, "I'm living my life" about. Maybe I did pray hard enough, or I nagged too much God finally decided to give me what I want just to see what I could do once I get it.

2k15 choked me in surprise. I got my dream job, one that requires creativity and my language skill, one with roller coaster ride and challenges to face everyday, one that kicks me out of my comfort zone. All wishes granted at once. But then again, no yin comes without the yang.

It exhausts me, both mentally and physically. I realized I lack in so many things, and it affects my self-confidence so much that I take what seems like forever to get a job done. It's frustrating, since I've mastered my previous job so well, but now I'm taking baby steps again just to understand what it is that I'm really doing.

But I'm considered very lucky to have a job I love, a job that thousands of people in the world would kill to have. So now, I'd like to wish again, carefully this time, to have countless patience and strength to get through 2k15 safely, to be able to give the best for my country, and to once again believe, that I was born not to just be good enough at things, but to be someone that brings advantages to people too.

2k15, please be nice.

The Greatest Fall

Things get harder when you realize you're falling for someone. Not because that falling in love isn't pretty, nor because the feeling itself isn't exciting.

It is the "he loves me, he loves me not" that is annoying, not forgetting the constant self-pitying about how he's out of your league and how you're not pretty enough to catch his attention.

The nights you'd think of him so much you wonder whether or not he's thinking about you too. Those moments you'd ask yourself how he sees you as, followed right away by those times you'd answer the question on your own, "no one but a girl whose name he knows".

Not falling for someone is easy. You don't have to spend any goddamn moment thinking whether or not it's the right time for a touch-up, or hesitating to say hi to anyone because you'd greet literally everyone with that exaggerating style of yours without the need to think "was I being too much?"

Thinking about it makes you sick, as every single thing he does toward you becomes an unappropriate sign of "yes" or "no", like "he says hi, he probably likes me", "he looks away, he probably doesn't", and the list goes on and on, and without you realizing it, you've become this one insanely worried woman, with minds filled with countless possibilities with hopes raising up and down on their own.

It makes you pathetic. It makes love seems pathetic too.

Poetry Prairie is Out!

On December 18th, this email was received. GYA! I had the book in my hand the next two days, met the contributor right away somewhere near where I live. More than stoked to have it! So this is what it feels like to own a book with your name in it. Finally, one of those things in my bucket list is accomplished! I feel contented. Alhamdulillah!

A 100-Words Love Story

I love how Wendy notices everything about me without the need to ask. She’s a great observer, like she knows that my favorite color is red though I always wear black, she knows how I like my coffee: hot, black, and bitter, with several sips of cigarette. She’s my faithful reader and I’m the wide-opened book, something no one but her would bother to read or to even take a look. But at times I wonder how she likes her coffee or is her favorite color blue, she’d answer me with a smile, “Here inside, Peter, it’s always been you.”

Particular Things

Have you ever miss something so much? Not a person, just some particular things.

Like the sound of the first rain in November, and the scent it brings when it hits the ground,
the smell of cold coffee in the morning, to end the night and start the day, a perfect rebound,
the short static between your favorite songs, those you'd sing with that special someone all night long,
or the sound your fingers make when you type, writing sentences your lips couldn't form,
as the whole world stop for awhile, making your weak heart strong.

08.24 PM

It feels silent, despite the fact that there are noises in the background; the breaking news on a television that no one watches, non stop splashing sound from the fish pond, and once in a while, the dispenser would go "blurp blurp" as the air trapped inside makes its way to the surface. Yet still, it feels silent.

The Beauty of Acceptance

Him.

He is such a nerd, with big rounded glasses,

no life but the poems he writes and he, himself publishes,

until he met this girl, with thick eyelashes,

and sweet pink lips he would kill for some kisses.

Her.

She is no beauty, even more a princess,

not with her brackets, big hairs, and freckles,

but she's born with these dreams people call "madness",

those only this boy thinks, "you can chase it".

Them.

Years passed by and both have learned,

that he is such an ass, and she's so stubborn,

that he drinks a lot, and it makes her concerned,

and that she can't cook well it makes his stomach ruined.

But poems about her are continuously written,

and they've reached Eiffel together- haters are beaten,

in the aisle of Paris, they exchange the words as the candles burn,

"I vow to you my love, and to always cherish the beauty of acceptance".

Wave-back Wednesday

He wasn't a man in an armor,
nor a knight on a horse.
While some men do it better,
sometimes he did it worse.

He was weak and tired,
but he was always steady.
He was one who'd most likely hurt
everyone but his own ladies.

Instead of those strong hands girls dream of,
I had a pair of thin-wrinkled ones instead.
But those hands would hold me when I need them,
so tight and close that his palms would turn red.

He had the eyes of a promising father,
and they always invited me in.
Now that he's gone away forever,
I'm just a lost daddy's girl without him.

Jeux D'enfants: Tu Me Manques.

Hello, there.

How have you been doing, besides disappearing and being out of track? At times when I have no better things to be thought about, I think about you. I let you slip into my mind, and it is surprisingly easy, despite the fact that my logic, and even my dumb heart knows that I shouldn't have done it again.

At times I don't think I need anyone to caress this fragile heart of mine but myself, you come across. It is weird, and you're such a disturbing image to see, such a disastrous distraction to fight, and an awful, painful memory to be remembered and reminisced.

Yet no matter how stupid it is, how illogically ill I am, and how a scumbag you once were or still are, I enjoy those moments when I catch myself thinking about you, daydreaming about you. I can feel my heart shouting at my sanity, to not drag it into the same old hole full of those pathetic feelings I once had for you. I can feel my mind struggling, scratching the inside of my skull with its hard logical truth, trying to remind me of the same old pain you once dragged me into.

But remembering you is easy, remembering us is easy, forgetting you is not, and erasing you is worse. So I let my insanity takes over. It's like being in a complicated maze, knowing I will never find a way out, but I'm enjoying every similar corner I encounter inside: the flowers once bloomed. Its scent lingers me, bringing up everything about you back onto the surface, as I sink deeper into this ocean, drowning in the memory of you and me, we and us.

The shrugged shoulders,
the "I don't know"s...
The almost,
the in-betweens...
I think about you so much now,
are you dreaming about me?

There Goes My 20s

People said that your 20s would go faster than you have ever thought it would. One day you woke up being a freshman of the 20-line, then the next morning could just be your last 20-some day. That's what I'm feeling right now, though I haven't even the reach the middle part of it but indeed, the first three went so fast.

I'm a girl with big dreams, hell yeah I dream big. But I'm also that kind of person who let things flow, too easily sometimes that I make no effort of changing my direction and just follow the wave that lead me toward the same old island called the 30s. Too busy keeping my head up the water and my body balance in this warm and still ocean I am in, I guess, that I have passed some other islands along my way.

Those islands might take more effort than just keeping your head up and balancing your body with your arms, it might have some big waves, even storms to welcome you in, and you might have to use your legs too to keep you moving forward toward those islands despite the bad-bad-bad weather, to those islands called Adventures.

I might have passed three, if only the island appears annually, but I might have passed some numbers too if there were lots of them.The warm-still water keeps me where I am. Not that I'm not happy about it. What could have been more comforting, right? Your families are waiting for you on the 30s, your future's clear. You'll find a man, be a good housewife like perhaps the rest of the females in your family are, make and raising kids, a family of your own, clean the house, cook the meals, 24/7, for the rest of your upcoming life. That's what us girls will be in the end, like it or not, we're the female of the species. Unlike those Adventure islands, who knows what's inside? There might be where the monsters from your nightmares live!

But... when the day arrive, I would be spending my days on that island not knowing what storm looks like, or-or-or how surfing on those big waves feels like. Because again, whether or not have you "visited" those islands of Adventures, you're still going to end up in 30s anyway, right? So why bother not visiting? Said my heart.

Soon, it's going to be my 4th year in this 20s ocean. I'm counting months, and the bad thing about is, it's that in the 20s ocean, months felt like days, and days like hours, and hours like minutes, and it goes on and on and on. Like... Yesterday was May! It's almost mid July already? You have got to be fucking kidding me, man! Will I let another Adventure island pass? Will I not find new things to learn, like big waves and storms? All of us will say "there goes my 20s" the moment we arrive in our 30s. It's about what tone will we use. Are we satisfied? Will I be satisfied?

I hope, when I reach my 30s, I'll have a proud smile on my face, a tired sigh out of my mouth, with a kid of my own on my lap as I finish this story, "there goes my 20s," and there my kid would answer, "I want a 20s journey like yours, Ma!" I hope. Let's keep on swimming for now.

20s ocean, please be nice.