I'll Be Back

I just need a little time :)

Season Change

Do you have something you keep on your bookmark that you only open it whenever you feel down?

It's about time to change

The White Rabbit is out of range

The sweater burried under

No more picture of the lover

It's only natural to put on linen

Cause the heat is unforgiven

And the space in between finger

Held by a beautiful stranger

The world still revolves

Feeling evolves

Hair grow back longer

And those eyes shine brighter

PS: The beautiful video belongs to Sonia Eryka. I love her works, a lot. I regularly revisit this video whenever I feel like bursting and going mad. Time passes, storms ends, lesson learned and you move on. Season will always change my dear, so try to get back up on your own feet.

Yesterday Once More

This is a journal post I wrote last Saturday after a meeting. I had 30 minute before my next schedule, so I decided to wait at McDonald's accompanied by iced coffee. I didn't get a chance to finish this post later, or even on Sunday. Monday came and I had a pile of unfinished deadlines lining up. But I really want to finish this post, so here we go.

✩✩✩

Kicking off weekend with a morning meeting. And, I don't hate it. Haha. I'm glad I have a reason to wake up early, get showered and have breakfast with mom. Mom made me a glass of avocado juice. I sprinkled a bit choco chip on top. It was really good.

I think I'm finally get used to my effort of cutting back on junk food. I usually have juice or banana and coffee for breakfast. Sometime I crave for steam rice and anything fried. But so far, I can manage everything pretty well. To my surprise, my mind has not been complaining much about the lack of trans-fat I consumed for the last 2 weeks. Here I'm, sitting at McDonald's and I'm cool with not having the fried chicken and fries, 2 of my ultimate favorite food. I'm calmly sitting at the corner, religiously sipping my coffee. I don't even think about fried chicken. It feels weird. As much as my mind sends the brain a signal to have fried chicken, it's not strong enough to make me order it.

Is it a good thing? I'm not sure. I think things go to a better direction, but not quite there yet. My goal is to bring back the green smoothies and steamed veggies to daily basis, my fave menu when I was working on my final assignment for my bachelor degree. It's actually quite a story. I should write it down before I forget the details. One thing I'm still pretty concerned is the time to work out. I've been trying to spare an hour after work to do HIIT or light cardio. But there are time when I'm so exhausted and all I want is hitting the bed. I need to set my standard right.

I'm having another meeting at 1 pm. It should be an interesting one cause I'll be meeting several new people there. I look outside the glass wall. The sun is shining bright, it's almost too hot to wear long sleeves now. I think I'll scoop a summer dress or two later, depends on the digits on my bank account. Haha.

Today is going well. I'm so grateful for the time I have right now :)

Carrie On, Monday: Seeing Through

Picture from pinterest.com

The old says, eyes are the window of the heart.

Of course it would be nice if you find the door (and a key set) to his heart right away. Cause you don't have to peek through the window, you can enter the heart. Peeking, my friends, is no good habit. Peeking is risky, because you tend to play guess of what's really inside. It's highly not recommended for those with fragile heart and a mindset of Elizabeth Bennet.

Then, how are you supposed to find the door and the key? Well, I'm afraid you can't really find an answer here. You can ask Carrie, for an advice to get as close as possible with the answer. As close as possible, but not quite there, yet. You are the only one who can figure out the rest of the story. And there are only 2 possible ending for you: a beginning of happily ever after or a scattered broken heart and "lesson learnt, not going there anymore".

I personally, love the peeking game. High risk, high return. Go big or go home. Playing such a dangerous game so many times doesn't make me an expert. I sometimes stare to long that I can't no longer trust my own judgement. I get lost in a pair of clear brown eyes that reflect the sunshine. So many times, I thought them eyes smile at me when it's probably a mockery of my stupidity. I don't know. I can't tell which is which. I keep on guessing and playing, without really asking the truth. I thought, only tongue can tell lies. Turns out, those pair of kind looking eyes, the window to whatever they hide deep in their chest, can play better roles. That or, I simply don't know how to play the game from the start. I'm being genuine, when that's the least thing I have to be.

Maybe Warhol is right. People should fall in love with their eyes close. But Mr. Warhol, I'd like to add gagged mouth, tied hands and wear only undergarments. That way, we have less things to hide. 

My 2 A.M Thoughts

-- The sky was so red, I thought it's bleeding.  Lembongan, 2014

I can hear the waves break from a far
The salty air
An urge to take off a layer of your top
as the humidity kiss the top of your shoulder
The sand in your toes
teasing
kissing
wrapping you in
inside a warmth
of the last light of sun left earlier

How to say no
to the moon?
The silver lighting dances
on the surface of the ripple
let you peek a bit to the ocean secrets
Showing you undeniable beauty
one that will never be your own

How do I get here?
Trap in between yes and maybe
I can feel your lips on the tip of mine
but truly, my dear
it will never ever entwine

Carrie On, Monday: Who We Are

pic from pinterest.com

Carrie Bradshaw and I must be born in the wrong era. Observing from our love expectations and sky high hope of finding a true love (also known as extinct species by the end of 2000), we are not suitable for the millennial.

We, crumbly and flimsy creatures, are too weak to survive the jungle of love. Do not mistaken us, romance is so different today. It has risen its bar so high that the participants need to go to war to win some body's affection. By war means keeping your body in size 2, neatly trimmed eyebrows and killer home cooking. Well, Carrie maybe size 2 while I'm in size 8 (and going), but we both can only cook boiled water. We put so much trust in someone and take whatever comes out of his mouth as the truth. We are easy target just because we believe that someone can be devoted as much ad we do. And even after all the free-falling-turned-ugly, we're still standing back and fighting. I think, we both are warriors indeed. But we're definitely no winner.

Let's say, it does exist. So where should we go to find it? How long will it takes till we cross path? Are we strong enough to hold on till the day comes?

One thing you should know, Carrie and I are melodramatic. We dream a love like the ones from Jane Austen's book, or Titanic. We dream of a cheesy, full of bullshit, time consuming, 4th of July firecracker, head over heels love. We live for love and die in love. We are hopeless romantic, who regularly get slapped by the 6 a.m alarm, reminding us to get back to reality.

Feel free to ignore us whenever we start romanticising the starry sky and the silver moon. We can't help it.

New Jeans Wanted

I just found out earlier this morning that I've gained 5kg for the last 9 months. 5 freakin kilograms! That's a lot piles of fat I've been living with! I've never gained this much weight before. I do gain weight gradually, but only 1kg a year. And the fact that I didn't scale my weight even once for the last 9 months also freaking me out. What the hell happened to me...

Some of my closest friend notice that I grow chubbier than before. 

"Are you happier now?"

"Your job looks amazing, and so are you! Chubbier than ever!"

"This is a good sign. You love it, don't you?"

"Man, congrats! You look different, in a good way!"

I do feel happy. I sometimes forget I have to be grateful for this opportunity, just because I'm really into it. I'm a lucky little brat. I should show more gratitude. I know, I know.

The last 9 months has been a celebration. I literally put any edible things on my mouth. I eat what I want to eat. It's a feasting after all, and I'm toasting for the long overdue suppressed passion.

I believe that over doing this celebration won't be a good thing in a long term. So let's cut back the booze a little, do some cardio, walk more and work harder. I have another miles to conquer and I need to be in my best shape.

(aaaaaanndd I just bought a pretty backless dress so I want to look fabz in it :p)

PS: if you click on the pic, you'll get redirected to the cafe's instagram. All of them are my faves at Surabaya, but most of them are coffee shops.

PPS: since we talk about my fave eating/hanging out places, I'll also link another places I love (but I don't have their food/bev pics) with good coffee, good food and good ambiance. Click here, here, here and here. Do check them out, they are really lovely!

Love Fool

An experience is truly a good teacher. I made so many mistakes on my journey, I called for the wrong decision, and I miss judged people. Some of it made me cry in silent before sleep, some of it made me smile and laugh cause it's silly, some of it leaves marks in my heart, up till today.

I think the hardest part is to accept and live with it. Hard because, I felt ashamed of committing the mistakes. I should have known better, that's what I thought. But Good God, I knew nothing when on the other hand, I acted like I write the ending of the story. Hahaha. Recalling all of this is amusing. I can see my old days flashing in my mind like a broken cassette. 

I have this faith that if I'm being a good girl, I'll be ended up with good folks only. But around the good people doesn't mean you are bullet proof from the hands of the player. For all I know, the good people is not always good. They sometimes play the game better than the others. I feel like right now, I can't play by my rule anymore. I need to step up my game; polishing my smile, sharpen my eyes, practising my roles. Being a good girl who play by the rule has made me an easy target. And an easy target I am not. I don't wanna be the toy. I can play the game too.

But who am I kidding? Participating in a game of life is tiring. And I like my life laid back like a Sunday morning with a cup of warm coffee in one hand and a slice of double chocolate cake in the other. I like a carefree life, where I don't have to plan my movement every minute. I like the small family I have, loving me even in my worn out holed pyjamas and make up-less face. I can play the game, I'm just not really into it. 

I don't wanna be like those people who play it nice because they have hidden agenda. I wanna be nice because I like to be one. I wanna be nice and true and compassionate because living that way is a life that I'm believing in. To hell with those who's been lying and betraying. And I regret all of the lies and betrayals I've been done. All I know, I'm better this way. I'm grateful for the experience that has thought me a thing or two about life. I'm grateful for people I call family who's been nothing but supporting and loving.

They may whisper and point me as The Love Fool. But honey, ain't no fool if a man embrace his own flaws, admitting his faults, keep believing and spreading kindness.

It's pure gold.

Which you are not, obviously.

Living at The Dance Floor

I think I finally got it.

All this time, I kind of hate it went things go unplanned, out-of-track. It put me to bad mood every time something unexpected happen, make me run out of Plan A, Plan B and Plan C. You see, I prepare 2 back up plans here, and things still go out of my control? Yes, I'm mad. I feel like somebody sneaking behind my back, waiting till the right moment to ruin one of my plans (you'll be surprised how many plan a human capable of making).

Then I learnt to Salsa.

Yesterday night, my office matte got invited to attend the anniversary of one of her client's resto. She took me as her plus one since we both are "miserably" single and didn't have any romantic plan that night. Girls night out. Meaning make up on and heels as high as the skyscraper and drinks to our heart content. That's the plan.

We didn't really drink much since the party was full of families. Well, there were not much to drink to in the first place. But we ate like no tomorrow. Haha. The host came and greeted us, telling us about a salsa community that would come and teach everyone how to dance. "You girls should join them on the dance floor!"

We just stared at each other, trying to hold our laugh. We suck at the dance floor. There's no way we embarrassed our self in front of many people. We would like to sit prettily in our table, nibbling rosemary snapper dish that tasted like heaven.

The music filled the room, shoes on, people started dancing. There were two couples dancing beautifully, their moves looked like water, so smooth, so flexible, so elegant and romantic. And I am, a self proclaimed hopeless romantic, couldn't just sit around and watched anymore.

"I think I'm gonna hit the dance floor."

"You CAN dance?"

"Nope. But that's why I'm going. Haha."

My feet went weak as I walked to one of the guy that looked like the instructor. A thought came, telling my rational mind that this wasn't a good idea. My heels were 7cm high and my motoric sense is a mess. I could fall anytime soon. Please back off. But my feet kept going, and the instructor saw me going his way. It's too late to turned around.

I think, I might be get lucky that night. Mr. Instructor was really good at teaching me basic salsa move. He held my body every time I thought I was going down facing the floor, making me feel safe to make bigger moves rather than my robotic stiff steps. It's a ballroom dance after all. It has to be grand and big. Once I started to feel the beat and had a bit confidence, I kind of getting a good vibes following Mr. Instructor's lead. On the third song, I could do the basic move smoothly. On the forth song, I twirled. Ladies and gentleman, I TWIRLED. I was wearing my body-fit-dress with A Line skirt, perfect for TWIRLING. Thank God I picked that dress! Mr. Instructor told me to relax my shoulder, so the moves would go natural and elegant. Just follow my lead and the beat of the song, he told me. He also reminded me to smile, cause no grumpy face is allowed at the dance floor. I'm not sure how many song were played as I swayed here and there, posing like a professional Salsa dancer. I was enjoying the dance so much I didn't want to stop.

In Salsa, the man will lead the woman through every single moves. The man is in control of where will they go, left of right, fast or slow, the man initiates the flow through the entire song. What the woman do is response to his lead like a shadow; close and intimate, calm and pretty, fragille yet solid. I have to say, it felt good that for once I let go of control and left all plan and decision to a total stranger. I practically didn't have to think the next move. All I had to do was enjoying myself.

So I did. Mr. Instructor was so good at dancing. He started slow, adding some pace to the moves as I got used to the beat then twirl! Twirl! Bent backward! Marched forward! And another round of twirling happened on and on, making me feel dizzy. I smiled from ear to ear during the dance. It felt hella good to get loose and dizzy and blurry. I couldn't see what's around me. I was blind without Mr. Instructor leading me where to step next with his movement. I was smooth sailing  to  a potential Salsa dancer, or so I thought. Hahaha. The only thing in my mind was keep going, dancing till my feet couldn't take it any longer. But the song ended. All the dancers clapped and left to catch a breath. I still felt dizzy.

Man, it's so much fun at the dance floor.

Mr. Instructor excused himself to grab a drink. I got back to my table, adrenaline was still rushing to my head. I was in the cloud nine. My friend clapped as I reached the table. She said I looked so good, as if it's not my first time dancing to the Salsa rhythm. I said, all thanks to Mr. Instructor I wasn't hitting the floor, literally.

The next round was starting and I was still catching my breath. I didn't realise I was sweating till I finished my second glass of water. Nice. Calories burnt yet I had so much fun in the process. I might like Salsa a little too much. My friend decided to learnt too, after looking at my success first trial. A success attempt of a sucker is a courage for another. And off she went to the dance floor.

I looked at every woman's face at the dance floor. They seemed to be content, trusting their partner to guide the move, yet they own presence shined, as if they were the star of the dance floor. They made you think that all the moves were initiate by them. When in fact, they surrendered to the rhythm their partner build. How come, not being in control making you have a powerful presence in the crowd? Making you look beautiful but at the same time giving off vibe not to mess around with you? Was I looking like that when i danced earlier? Could I be like that? I wanted to be like that.

I began to think that probably there's a certain grace of the act of letting go and surrender. It makes some space for yourself to accept the imperfection of your perfect plan. It makes you take a break, so you can see the bigger picture. It let you breathing, enjoying the bitter sweet of failures and finding a humour out of it. It makes you embrace the fact that nothing is ever fully under control, and it's okay. Probably, just probably, you'll like the surprise twist better than the one you've planned. Who knows, where will it take you in the future. But just like Salsa, even thou you can't really see what's around you, there always be arms holding your back; help you find back your rhythm, keep you from falling down and remind you to smile. No grumpy face is allowed at the dance floor.

 -- pictures circa 2014, when I learnt how to fight for my own dreams.