Pertama di tahun 2015

"Dia menantinya
dalam jeda-jeda hening musim yang berganti
kemarau dan hujan dan kemarau dan hujan lagi
yang datang tanpa jeda untuk membasahi jiwa atau mengeringkan air mata


Dia
telah
dan selalu
untuk pertemuan sesaat
merindukannya
dengan rasa sakit"


Demikianlah, postingan pertama di tahun 2015 (yang sudah berjalan sebulan ini), adalah potongan puisi yang saya buat sekitar satu dekade lalu.

Untuk pengingat saja, betapa saya dulu sangat piawai dan percaya diri dalam memetik dawai-dawai kegalauan dan menyandingkannya dengan rangkaian kalimat mewakili suara hati terdalam yang tak tersampaikan. Betapa saya dulu adalah salah satu pengguna jaring laba-laba raksasa dunia ini yang aktif menyebarkan pesan-pesan kepedihan hati dan cinta tak berbalas.

Mungkin, sekarang saya juga masih sepiawai itu.
Mungkin.
Tapi lalu ada 'bisa' dan 'mau', yang merupakan binatang yang berbeda meskipun masih saudara. Kemudian ada 'perlu', binatang yang berbeda, tidak ada hubungan saudara, tapi seringkali dilibatkan dalam rembugan-rembugan antara 'bisa' dan 'mau'.

'Bisa', 'mau', dan 'perlu' sibuk berdebat dalam kepala saya. Hasilnya kemudian adalah saya yang tidak menulis apa-apa.

Mudah-mudahan situasi ini segera berubah, dan saya kembali bisa menuliskan hal-hal tidak penting seperti biasa tanpa harus berpikir mengenai perdebatan 'bisa' 'mau' dan 'perlu'.
Tidak berarti suara hati saya itu penting untuk dunia atau memiliki nilai keindahan yang tak terbantahkan. Tapi saya rasa penting untuk memberi ruang pada hal-hal yang tidak bisa disampaikan dalam kehidupan nyata, untuk kemudian disampaikan kepada alam semesta melalui jaring laba-laba raksasa ini.

Siapa tahu alam semesta berbaik hati, menempatkan pesan-pesan tak terkatakan itu dalam orbit yang tepat sehingga mereka sampai di tempat tujuan dan diterima dengan baik oleh yang berkepentingan.

Kita tidak pernah tahu kan ya?


2.36, Senin dinihari

My Mind

I planned to work, but then I opened my blogger account. There were also days when I planned to draw or write, but then stuck with the office email and started to develop a document, happily.

Sometimes I don't understand the way my mind works. It seems like it has a life of its own.

How to omit the crossing wires from the sky?

I've been wondering about it for quite some time.

I'd really like to know whether there's a fair way to erase the crossing wires in the photographs that you've taken because I think it's not a question of editing. It's a question of honesty. 

I could apply filters to create ambiance, using vignette or tilt shift to direct focus, or adjust the saturation to make it looks better than the reality. But I'm not so sure about erasing something that is actually there.

I want to take picture of the sky that is beautiful. I want it to remind me that one day, there's a day when the sky is so beautiful that you wish it stays like there forever. A reminiscence of what was there. And thus would be unfair to erase the wires, because they were also there, part of the beautiful sky that I saw. The sky is beautiful, but there are the wires there and they've been there for a long time, long before I came and sit at my front yard looking at the sky and taking pictures.

I could erase them easily with simple app. But wouldn't that be an act of dishonesty?

I'd capture the beautiful sight forever, but I lied about the wires that were there. I lied about the flaw in the beauty. 

Will it be fair?

in the face of death

Dearest world, 

Don't ask me how I came up with all these questions. They're just there, in my head, suddenly, as I was bumping in my chair on the rusty bus on my way to the office one morning.

Have I dream enough?

One of my colleagues is leaving the job for a scholarship abroad, in the major that she loves. Another colleague is leaving for another job that servers her higher purpose in life, that is teaching and social works. My other colleague, having recently found out that she's an introvert, realized that she needs to find another job if she wants to stay healthy.

Then came the next question: Have my life been useful enough?

They said a life worth living is the one that gives benefit to other people. Then I wonder, does quantity  matter in this case?

Because I am very sure that up until today, my existence in this world benefits only a very limited number of people, even further down to not more than my mother and my daughter. 

Does it make my existence in this world less useful then?

And the next question: as I was standing at the platform this morning waiting for the train, feeling the morning wind breezing, softly blowing my long tunic and trousers, all black, nothing fancy or fashionable in any way: Do I have what it takes to charm?

Do I need it?

What does it take to charm people actually? And why?

Once I got to the office, I immediately share this pointless reverie to a very dear friend, who then replied by relating to her recent dream about how she met her own death. She said, you know dear, none of those questions you've just asked, none of them matter in the face of death.

And that was the truest truth, bold enough to answer all my questions. 

I'm not against asking questions, indulging the noisy whys and hows moving back and forth in your head, especially those of you with that relentless mind constantly throwing thoughts of the most random topics in the unlikeliest times.

Don't shut them down (because you won't be able to do that anyway). But keep in mind, that there are times when you have to learn to accept things for what they are, because some of them do not really matter in the end.

The Sky

Sky never fails me.
That I know for sure now.


In tough times when I think that the whole world is crumbling down and all I can do is watch and weep, the sight of the sky never fails me.

There's always something graceful about the sky. 

   

The way the clouds spread in the open sky from one end to another with striking grace. 

As if it's telling you that you are blessed to be able to witness such beauty around you, and that you are loved, and protected.

And with such grace and greatness, how can you doubt it?











When I feel bored or too stressed out at the office, I'd just take a short break at the cafe or simply sitting next to a nearest window, watching the afternoon sky that, luckily, most of the time is filled with burst of clouds (in rainy season, the sight is even better. I can see the gloomy yellowish grey sky from behind droplets on the window).




Sometimes I wish if I could just spend the whole day sitting next to my window, staring at the sky.


There will be days when I got out of the office feeling dreadful, and I know, all I need to do to make the two hours commuting trip bearable is to look at the sky.



To get amazed by its vastness, to greet the clouds and their beautiful colors in late afternoon.

I'd soon realize that there really isn't much to complain about, because the universe is beautiful and kind, and its grace soothes any wounded soul.

*All pictures were taken and edited using my android mobile phone

on the success of small things

I was sitting on a commuter bus stuck in a traffic jam right in front of office buildings and malls when my eyes caught a sight of a woman walking alone on the pavement. There's actually nothing special about her. She's just one of the busy people in the crowd leaving the office building, heading to somewhere on that late afternoon. She wore a black, long, jacket with belt on the waist, a black trousers and a black stiletto shoes, and carried a black leather suitcase. Well maybe that's one thing that I found rather unusual. Her appearance was rather different than the usual pretty career woman with colorful dress and matching bags or shoes. She looked very professional and smart. And at that late cloudy afternoon in Jakarta, she walked alone out of the office building, carrying her leather suitcase, walking to the electronic store nearby. Probably she went there to buy a modem, or a memory stick, or an external hard disk. Or perhaps she just went there to buy a cup of coffee from the coffee shop at the ground floor of the store.

I'd never know because by the time she entered the building my bus has turned to another direction.

But I kept thinking about her. She reminds me of a picture of a sucessful career woman my parents used to have years ago. Smart dressed and powerful, enjoying her time alone at her early thirties, going to the bookstore or a cafe, spending her money the way she likes and  going home at whatever hours she felt comfortable after roaming around the luxurious malls.


To be honest, the enjoying her time alone part probably belong to my imagination, not my parents.

But that was also pretty much the way I had pictured success when I was a kid.

Now after reminiscing the past days I realized that it never crossed my mind that there were other people out there, working as journalists, photographers, dancers, painters, florists, owner of a small bookshops, owner of a small coffee shops, owner of a small music school, people devoted their lives for less tangible things. I am very sure I have came across those people during my adolescence years, but somehow, it never occurred to me that these people work. And succeeded. It seems I had never gave them a thought, and nor did my parents. Or most parents, I suppose.


Recently, I had a conversation with a few colleagues and it got me thinking how success has always been associated with being in a high position in a big corporation. While admiring some people who actually have reached that high position at a very young age, I can't help but wonder what is wrong with living a simple, modest life?


If I have the opportunity, I'd choose to work in a small book shop, in a place that's far from the crowd and noise of the city chaos.


I think this is where the saying 'money is the means not the goals' comes in.


I'd still be needing a constant flow of money to be able to enjoy my quiet life as after my work in the small book shop. But that would be the furthest role money has in my life: a facilitator for me to be able to enjoy life the way I want. The way I want to enjoy life might be different from other people, and it is a very subjective measurement. And this, I think, is where the saying 'money is never enough to satisfy you' comes in. No matter how much money you have, it won't be enough, not if you keep wanting more and more. It's a matter of knowing your limit, and a willingness to live life in its essence.


Again, this is me. Other people might think that it's important to have many other things they don't have yet right now and really, I don't want to judge. Some people do need the things they want to have, some others simply just want to have the things for the sake of having it. I'm learning to be very careful now not to confuse the two.


But I just think it's important to revisit the picture of success that we have.


Some people are made for big things, destined to walk around the earth with sophisticated dress and glossy shoes entering a high rise building, meeting important people, dealing with big scenarios of the nation. I admire them. All the efforts they made to be where they are now, all the time they spent working hard to achieve the sophisticated life that they want. They deserve it and I believe they have a significant contribution to this world.


But there are also some people that are made for smaller things, or rather, less glossy things. These people might not in a high position, might not be a part of a big corporation or organization. They don't have glossy shoes and leather bag. They don't work in a high rise building working on big scenarios involving big money for the nation or a corporation owns the nation or probably even owns half of the world. Or they probably working on a big scenario for the nation but instead of glossy shoes and leather bag, they probably carry a backpack, roaming around the remote islands in this country, wearing casual outfit and rubber sandal. Or they might not be involved at all in a big scenario of the nation. They probably live their life from day to day taking care of flowers, or making beautiful hand crafts to be sold, or teaching little kids singing at local schools, and going to the traditional market every late afternoon to buy food and vegetables and cook for their families. Probably smaller things, but just as significant as the big things.


They are the hands behind the colors you see at the florist or someone else's garden. They are the hands behind the laughter of the children studying on a rundown building of local schools. They are the hands behind the full stomach and burps you might hear on the family dining room. They are the hands behind the small beauties in the world. Small, but not less significant.


I just think, that these people, also need to be recognized of creating a meaningful life, despite what the society defines about success.


They might have the capability to rise above others and speed their way to the highest position in an important company or organization, but they choose the smaller role in life because that's what they want, because there's where their heart lies. There are nothing wasted about them. They are people devoting their life for their passion, for the good of others, far away from the spotlight but working as hard as those who are under it. I think they need to be recognized for their courage to live their truth no matter how unimpressive those things are.

Absolutely nothing wasted about them.

the restlessness of things

The restlessness of not writing.
The restlessness of having too much in your head, but you're not writing.
The restlessness of the stubbornness of sticking with the idea that you can live and breath well and not writing.


I know that that's what happens when I worry too much of what people might think about my writing. Or rather, what I myself might think about my writing. That's what happens when I rely too much on the perfect inspiration to come to me. 


After tossing and turning with the restlessness for about a week, I came to realize that the only thing I can do to get rid of all doubts and uncertainties is by walking through them. There's no point wondering on ways to get around them. Doubts and uncertainties, dearest Self, is as certain as everything else in this universe. The sun rises and sets, the earth spins, the clouds come and go. Uncertainties stay around.


I finally learned, through the painful mental struggle of insisting on not writing, that things will only come to perfection when they are made and created. 


There is no perfect timing, or perfect surrounding, or perfect situation, or perfect mood, or perfect ideas, to turn something into a perfect piece of art. 


There is no perfectly shaped ideas to be written. It will only become perfect if you dig it, mold it, write it and toss it and write it and toss it over and over again. 


There is no perfect mood for the day. It will only become perfect if you decide to seize the day, pull yourself together, blow the dark clouds away to oblivion, breath after breath, until the sky becomes clear. That's when you finally have the perfect day.


There is no perfectly developed skill for a job. It will only become perfect after you take the bumpy ride with all the ups and downs, the happiness and the humiliations, the tears and the laughter of victory. That's when you finally have perfect skill.


I've learned, that things become perfect through hardships and endurance. That the only way to get there (wherever you want it to be) is to take the first step, to take the plunge and falling freely, to walk further until there's no turning back. To think of what you're going to miss at this moment if you don't take the first step, instead of wondering what the future might hold or not, if you don't take the first step.


We just need to keep going. Keep going until that's the only option we have. 






South Jakarta, 1.11pm
I should read Julia's Cameron The Sound of Paper once again. I need to keep on going.

on broken heart

In the process of growing up and growing old, I learned one important lesson that I'd never thought I'd overlooked.


The lesson I learned, is that it is very important to keep the heart in one piece.


Because it requires a rather complicated process to put everything back together once the heart breaks into pieces. Whereas it needs nothing more than a glue to put the pieces of torn or broken things back together, that’s not the case with the heart.

In putting back the pieces of broken heart, one has to undergone a complicated procedure, which involves a thorough examination of one’s deepest part of the heart and one’s reflection in the mirror. That, is never an easy task since it requires honesty and a strong willpower to stand whatever one finds there, at the heart, and in the mirror. Small steps are to be made following the examination, and they are completely depends on the cases one has. One should not copy the steps others made in putting back the broken pieces of the heart, because it’s a different heart. Forcing similar treatment to two different hearts may lead to a failure and sabotage the whole recovery process. In worst cases, it breaks the heart even more. Thus it is very important, on top of everything, before developing any recovery plans, to appreciate and accept the heart one has, the way it is. Flaws are to be acknowledged only and not to be judged. Judgment and logic are to be used at minimum, since the two tend to have nonconstructive effect on the heart, especially during recovery process. Only by accepting the uniqueness of one’s heart can one understand the way to mend it.

As for the timeline, it is better not to set any. Unmet deadlines will cause another potential wound at the heart, which is highly unwanted because the newly recovered heart have not gain its full strength yet and is rather fragile. Thus, avoid deadline. Let the heart decide. One should be able to tell whether the heart is fully recovered or not, from the way it beats in certain occasions or on meeting certain people. This is a knowledge which only the owner of the heart has access to. Thus, it is also important to keep other people’s advice at minimum. It’s a work one has to do alone, or rather, with one’s own heart alone, without external influence. External influence is also to be kept at the minimum in order to maintain a healthy sense of self confidence and a healthy dose of trust needed by the heart, which can only be given by the owner itself.

Now, I think I should end my musing on the importance of keeping a heart in one piece, and leave the conclusion to you. Is it really that important to keep the hear in one piece? Or is it really that difficult to mend a broken heart? Or should we all just plaster our heart, lock the doors and throw away the key and seal all the windows?


It would be greatly appreciated if you could share any conclusions you have made, since I haven’t been able to make any. Oh I've tried. Really. But none of them seems to make sense, I wonder why. 

The time I'm running out of

So here's practically how my day goes everyday:


I'd commute to the office every morning with train. In the train, I'd plug my ears with earphone and occupy my mind by reading my Google reader or catching up with latest news of the day through Twitter. While listening to the songs in my ear and reading all the news and articles, I'd start imagining myself getting off the train, chasing for a bus, sitting in there, getting off of it, walking to the building where my office is located, and I'd start thinking of whether I'd drink tea or coffee this morning, I'd start recollecting the taste of each, considering which would be the most proper for that morning. Sometimes, the train of thought would be cut off for a brief moment with the realization of the sight of trees running backwards or the roof of the houses that we're passing. For that brief moment I'd think, it's not the best sight in the world but it's lovely anyway, never fails to brighten my day. And then the train of thought resume with more and more tasks and plans for the day. 


When sitting on the bus, though it had been carefully pictured in my mind earlier that I'd keep listening to the songs played in my iPod along with some interventions from the street singers creating a nonsense unintelligible sounds in my ears, I'd do something else too. I'd pondering on whether to read a book or continue checking up  Twitter, which I usually end up doing both, interchangeably.


I'd watch the cars and motorcycles passing by next to me, and think maybe I'd better stop multitasking and just enjoy the sight for a while. I never really give much thought about why the sight of traffic can be something to be enjoy. While watching the busy traffic, my mind would start wandering around the office, at my cubicle to be precise. I'd thinking about turning the computer on, entering password, and while waiting for the computer to log on I think I'd go to the toilet to clean myself up, going to the office's pantry, searching for my mug in the cupboard, making myself a cup of coffee, and walked back to my desk with the computer already logged on.


Isn't it amazing that by the time I am there, sitting at my desk with the computer already logged on and ready to start the work, I'd think of  how this day would end. I'd type words and numbers, working on the report or whatever it is I'm working on, while thinking of what to read on my way home. I'd look outside the window and find a beautiful sight of drizzling rain and would start taking pictures, editing it, and posting it on Streamzoo. All the while thinking of drawing the pictures, wondering whether to just using MyPaint or coloring pencils. 


By the time I got on the bus for a two-hours trip going home, I don't only read what I have sort of planned earlier back in the office, but I also busy multitasking between checking my inbox, reading at least two pages of a book, and staring at the traffic outside.


I'm actually pretty busy aren't I? :D


Sometimes at such moment I'd think, I have to choose to do only one of these or I'd get home dead tired. And actually, I was tired already. So I'd usually end up plastering my face to the window, watching the traffic, or staring at the sky if it's not dark yet. It felt so relieving, actually. To sit still in silence, doing nothing, thinking of nothing, only silence occupy your head.  But it's hard to keep though. My mind has this tendency to think and over think everything and it's really difficult to tell it to be quiet. During the noisy conversation, I'd think of writing them down. It's been a good therapy for me actually. Only sometimes, I'd get too far by thinking of the opening sentences, what to focus, what to highlight, any pictures I could use, or perhaps I'd just draw something.


And believe me, when I finally draw something, while moving the pencil on my sketch book, my mind would wander around other things like what to draw after this, what about the previous idea I had in mind, when will I have time to draw them, should I buy another set of coloring pencils so I wouldn't have to use my daughters', and creating a plan for the upcoming weekend where I'd have my quiet time drawing. Or perhaps going to a book store to buy some stationery. Speaking of which, what about the books in my wish list. Or even, the books I haven't finished reading. And I'd start to mentally groan in frustration, oh so many things I want to do yet so little time. 


Thinking about it, actually I have managed to crammed quite a lot of things in my time. Aside from working nine to five, I still manage to read books and articles in my Google reader, update my blog, drawing, editing some photos, updating my Deviantart and Flickr, catching up with friends once in a while through Twitter and Facebook, having a conversation during dinner with my Mom and my daughter, and quite enough sleep. 


But why do I keep feeling like I don't have enough time? 


I always recognize the feeling of a meltdown. It usually happens when I don't have enough time with myself. Being an introvert, I now know that I was never made for a noisy life, and even if I have to live one, I know I'd have to set at least two hours every day to be alone to recharge, to release all the tensions that were built during the eight hours of interaction with other people. If I don't set aside some time for myself, I'd have the meltdown phase, and it could be very nasty. 


Now I've managed to squeeze a little time here and there to do things I want. But something is missing. Something is lacking. Something that feels clearer when it's late at night, when all the world is sleeping, and I'm close to sleeping either that I never really find out what is it because I'd fall asleep not long after, physically tired and mentally exhausted for the reason I don't understand. I have time to do things I like. Why should I feel exhausted?


Only recently I realized, that I don't set quite enough time to be with myself. I've been cramming my usual quiet time with too many activities. And while I think that might be a good thing, I have to question my motive as well. I think it started to become a problem when I start setting target like reading at least two pages of a book, drawing at least one in a week, posting at least three photos in a day, and so on. 


While target is important, and I know that I have to keep at least one blog post per day for the sake of keep writing and keep my sanity intact, I might have been violating the purpose of quiet time by cramming it with not only too many things, but also target to be accomplished. If my daily life at work has already full of targets and deadlines, perhaps I should not use the same principles with my quiet time. I might have violated the quiet time by doing things I like with the wrong spirit behind it. 


Things you like, they should be done with love, with the right amount of caring and gentleness, and less ambitions. I should stop filling up my sketch book every week and learn to let go, leave a sketch half finished when I feel exhausted, and visit it again next week. I have to learn to move on with another topic or another draft instead of forcing myself to struggle with one draft that is so difficult to finish. I now think that the reason it gets that difficult to finish is perhaps because my heart was not there, not at that time. 


Committing to finish the work is one thing. But I need to learn to choose. I can't do everything all at once. Well, maybe I can, but I'd loose the present time; the time I'm  having but ignoring by being too busy thinking and planning about the next time. The present time I'd failed to enjoy for having too focus on the result. I'd missed the joyful times feeling the pencil moving on the paper, watching the color filling up the white space inches by inches together with the movement of my hands. I'd missed the joyful times of playing with ideas, the process of unveiling thoughts and untying them into a form of sentences, the excitement of swimming with words, stringing them up one by one into sentences, watching my thoughts turning itself into a previously unknown form as the sentences progress into paragraphs.


I've read this article about a relentless mind and what to do with it. I think that's just what I've been having all this time. 


I was going home from work yesterday, feeling slightly heavy on my head and still tired of an emotional breakdown two days earlier. The commuter bus has high windows so the sights are limited to tree tops and clouds in the sky. I stared blankly at the sky at first, mind wandering to the news and articles I was planning to read but failed to because exhaustion took over me. Then the sight of the clouds rolled up, forming some kind of white soft tower in the sky started to get into me. I was amazed by how grand the sky is, how beautiful the clouds are, and how little yet so blessed I am to be sitting witnessing this miracle of the universe. I felt so happy and grateful, so much that I keep smiling even when I had to walk under the rain that suddenly pouring. 


It was one of my blissful quiet moments and actually, it's not that difficult to find. If only I let myself to be mindful, emptying my mind from all the thoughts of the next time, let quietness takes over, fully absorbing all the sights and the sounds around me in precious silence, wholeheartedly experiencing the now.

incoherent

I went to work this morning with more than half of my heart was still left at home. I think I’ve left them somewhere close with my sketchbook and coloring pencils, near the unfinished drawing I started last night.

I try to calm down and prepare myself for the one and a half hour trip getting to the office. I put on my earphone, playing Putumayo playlist, hoping to sooth the restlessness in me. I sat myself at the last row in the bus, right next to a window. It’s my favorite place because it shields me from the chaos inside the too crowded bus. I turned my iPod volume to the max, and opened a book. I was distracted, but not that much to help me completely forget the restlessness.  After a while I finally gave up and closed the book, thinking that perhaps this is one of those moments where it’s better to be quiet and still, to let the busy brain stop talking for a while and let silence occupy your head.

At times like this, I cannot help but wonder. Have I been ungrateful with the life I’m having now? I ask myself the question over and over again while watching, from the window of the rusty bus, a number of street vendors running on the street, trying to get into the moving buses. In front of me was an old man I usually see wandering about at the train station piggybacking his adolescent retarded son. While passing the intersection, I caught a glimpse of a street singer standing at the pavement, watching the buses go by, looking disappointed. It seems they were also trying to get into the bus but failed to cross the street, hampered by a bunch of motorcycles.

I know and I’m sure that I’m far from being ungrateful. I’m more than glad that I have a place every day to go to work for. And every day I pray for those people I meet on the street, wishing a better life for them. But this restlessness, these voices calling from somewhere inside of me, is not something I can ignore. It’s getting more and more unbearable every day. It’s something I know I’d have to follow.

I wrote this post once I got the the office, still having no clear idea on how to deal with it. 

So dear people, sorry for giving you more clouds :)

I need a help here.

the moral of the story?

I was having a really bad day at the office yesterday. Not that it's the first time. Looking back, that has always been the case with my job for the past six years: deadlines, crazy deadlines, friendly deadlines, I-understand-your-workload-but-sorry-what-else-can-I-do deadlines, chaotic environment filled with tension, people hurrying by to catch up with whatever it is running ahead of them, trying to get ahead of everything.


That was my introvert, HSP self talking.  


There are times when my less than 1% extrovert self (yes, I still believe that I actually have this, the test system just failed to recognize it) coming out and decided to take the front line, and see things rather differently. That it has always been a good place to work. That it's actually the best place to grow, full of challenges and experiences of new things you might never heard of before. That it's actually a place that will boost your confidence by taking you involved in big things, big scenarios, access to classified information, meeting important people. That those tensions, that chaotic environment, will be from time to time, filled with the sounds of people throwing jokes, laughter everywhere, victory scream over new business wins, friendly faces smiling over small unimportant things of our everyday lives.


I learn not to judge what my two sides of self see. They do have their positive and negative sides, though I am perfectly aware that I will always be gravitated to what I truly am: the introvert, the HSP, the unsent, the one that doesn't fit in. 


In some days, I can walk into the office calm, composed, collected, full of control of myself, ready to take any challenges offered by the day. In some days, I would walk in miserably, feeling frustrated by the chaotic environment, intimidated by deadlines that haven't even existed (yet). Yesterday was one of those days. With two deadlines waiting, the HSP in me that were on active mode started to panic. It wasn't a good condition and I collapsed, layer by layer, throughout the day. 


I finished my work for the day. Some of them. But I felt torn apart; my pride was torn apart, the idea I have about myself was challenged to the point of questioning my very existence in this world; am I just one of those passerby? One of the dying soul walking around the earth simply trying to make ends meet before the end comes and take away everything life is?


I spent the two hours going home trying to fight the tears I knew wouldn't be able to come out anyway. Just glistening moist at the corner of my eyes. My chest was full with emotions and my head was full with thoughts, both I have no control of. They were swirling, turning around, and I was so sure that I was going to cry last night. 


But then, not so far from my house, I saw some kids playing ular naga panjangnya. It's a traditional game I used to play when I was a little kid. I live in a suburban area, thus it is actually not uncommon to find children playing traditional games. But seeing those kids forming a row, singing and giggling while moving in a snake-like motion last night somehow brought a smile to my face. I suddenly thought of the days when I was one of those kids, singing and giggling under the moonlight. For a brief moment, I could feel the excitement I used to have while running around bare feet with my little friends in front of our houses. It was brief, but it was able to lift the heavy feeling off my chest. So last night, despite the intimidating day I had previously, I reached home with lighter heart and a smile on my face. And I'm really thankful for it.


I felt grateful how some things, are, comfortably, remains the same, especially within our heart. Now I see why.


So, dearest people, what is the moral of the story? I don't know. I don't think I've started this blog post with such a noble idea to give and moreover, to highlight a valuable lesson. At least not this time. I don't know what the moral of the story is, and I'm not planning to dig deeper into my brain to find out about it anytime soon. I started this blog post with a rather selfish intention, that is to let you know that I was having a bad day and unable to deal with it, I've let it ruining my day, but then I managed to came home smiling because of some kids playing ular naga panjangnya. 


Was it about finding the silver lining in the sky? Was it about having positive thought in your hardest times? Was it about finding peace within yourself? I don't know. 


I just remembered that when I opened the gate of my house last night, I sighed, and thinking, oh such an old wisdom, never fades in time. 


But what was it, really?




South Jakarta, in the middle of this chaotic place, while waiting for my research plan being reviewed

at my worst

I am at my worst.

The slightest touch makes me want to hit the person who touches me.


The casual conversation felt like the sound of independence day celebration and I want to shriek like a banshee so people can finally shut up. Or just talk silently.


The simplest question felt like an intimidating interrogation and I really have no answer to any of those. Even if it's just something in the line of have I had my lunch or what to eat for dinner.


I can't even make myself to reply the comments on my Facebook.


I am that horrible when I'm having a meltdown.


I can't meet people. I can't be around other people, even if it's my own family. I don't talk and I don't answer questions. Even if I would, it would be very difficult to do. It's as if my brain suddenly functions in different mode. The normal encoding-decoding process somehow just doesn't work. It suddenly uses different encrypting system and anything comes from external felt strange and unintelligible.



I've learned to accept this. I've grown to accept the periodical occurrence and adapt to it.

So here I am now sitting in my room, having a cup of green jasmine tea. One of the few things that can calm me down at times like this.


And as if in cue, I received an email from my boss asking me to do some work tonight, and an invitation from the people in my block for dinner. For certain reasons, both are things I couldn't and shouldn't turn down.








Hasn't it always been like this?
Just when you thought you couldn't go further with your emotional breakdown, such things appear out of nowhere and forcefully pulling you out from your comfortable solitary shell.


But, really, dear Universe, I've nothing against it.


Maybe I'm feeling like dragging myself out of the house right now. But this is nothing, because I'm still alive here, typing my heart out in my comfortable room with a cup of that lovely green tea, a full stomach, and sleepy eyes. 

suffocated

In the middle of developing a slide, which supposed to be an extract of pages of pages of interview notes. 

Such a paradox.

Developing something by squeezing something.

I'm talking nonsense again.

I'm feeling this gut-wrenching emotions again.

Overwhelmed and suffocated.

Yet I type, and talk, and smile, and laugh, and respond to the world.

Normally.

Normal is overrated.

I'm saying it again.

Normal is overrated for its tendency to rip your heart while struggling for normality in the middle of this overwhelming situation

Normal is overrated for its ability to shut you up and plaster a mask on your face while you're actually yearning to scream and shout and cry your heart out and crawl on the ground and sob and suffocate yourself to be able to free yourself from this overwhelming emotion.

Normal. I just can't be. Not now.

I need to cry. Curl myself on the bed under the blanket and cry. And cry. And cry.

Yet I respond to the world. Normally.

5.04 pm, during office hours, because I couldn't stand it anyomore.

On the Noise in Social Media

A lot of people say the Internet is a godsend for introverts and I think I have to say that I share similar opinion. What's interesting was, I had always thought that since the Internet allows us introverts to talk easier and considerably a lot more than what we usually do in person, that makes introverts become extroverts when online.

But I found out that that's not the case.

I read an interesting article from Psychology Today about introverts online. This is what the writer (who is an introvert) said: 

I blog, I tweet, I FB. I'm all over the place. But like in the offline world, I have my limits. 

By the end of a workday, FB voices start giving me the same kind of tiredhead I get at a party or after a stretch of face-to-face social engagements. Sometimes I find myself getting annoyed when people comment on my status lines, which is silly. If you're going to be an exhibitionist, you have to expect people to look.

An introvert offline is an introvert online. I don't accept friend requests from everyone on FB (so please don't friend me--though feel free to join me onTwitter ). I take a while to warm to new virtual friends. I hide people who bore me. Sometimes I want Twitter to just shut the hell up. And I prefer not to post on my blogs unless I have something to say. 

So, introvert offline, is introvert online. Nothing changes.

And that is pretty much what I'm feeling right now about the social media out there.

I'm never really into Facebook. I find it too crowded.  I mostly use it only to keep in touch with my close friends. Only close friends, yet, of course, it fails successfully. There are times I kind of lose myself and start typing anything I want to there, mostly unimportant things, and at the end of the day I mentally knock myself on the head, or simply wonder, what would be the best way to make use of this thing because what you've been doing is anything but useful, Self. I'm learning and will keep on learning for this one. 

Twitter, is another story. I rarely check my Twitter these days. For the past month, I only check my Twitter twice a week, and even that felt too much. I couldn't stay there for longer than 15 minutes, before the noise starts getting in to my nerve and I have this urge to immediately shut it down and runaway.

It's still addictive as usual. If I force myself to stay another click, most likely I'd stay there for another 15 - 20 minutes. There's always something interesting to see, inviting links to click, or simply curiosity over not-so-important-but-curiosity-is-curiosity things. 

I don't want to abandon Twitter because I realize that it's still an important source of information. I just need to find the way how to keep up with the (sometimes annoying) noise. 

What I did was I re-activate my Google Reader. It has been neglected for a couple of months because it's too crowded but I managed to trimmed it down to only subscription of blogs. No more news portals. I keep up with the latest news by following the news portals' on twitter, all grouped in my News column in TweetDeck.

In this case, TweetDeck is a lot of help. Whenever I feel I need to check on the news (or something else like the National Geography or Discovery Channel which I put in the "Interesting Stuff" column__yeah I know the name is far from creative), I can directly focus my attention to the relevant column. I don't have to be distracted by the noise in the timeline.

And honestly speaking, I rarely check my timeline lately. Well, there will always be interesting stuffs and information there but sometimes it's just too noisy, and really, most of the times, the information is not that important.  There is also the option of cleaning up my following list, which I've been planning to do actually. But it will take a certain amount of time and energy. Thinking of drowning into that noisy stream again alone has drained me. So in the mean time, I guess this would be the best way. 


Twitter for news updates, and Google Reader for my light readings.


And I'm a happy introvert :)




-7.20 pm, while trying to write something else, and as usual, I came up with something else-

Personality Pattern

Took another test here

And this is the result.

Cooperative

You enjoy teamwork, play well with others, and prefer getting along to winning.

You're not compelled to win every contest nor to be right all the time.

Passionate

You are in touch with your emotions, and sometimes you react before you think. The good news: you don't tamp down your feelings. The bad news: you sometimes say or do things that you later wish you could take back.

You do not live your life on an even keel; you do not go for long periods without experiencing some mood swings.

Introspective

You like your own company; you're a very interesting person. Tracking your own mental processes, knowing what you're thinking and why you do what you do, is important to you. Often, what's going on in your mind is more compelling than what's going on outside. For the most part, those with a high score on the "introspective" trait enjoy reading, taking long walks, learning new things, and other solitary activities.

You are not someone who is constantly looking to be among a group of friends; you never feel bored when you are by yourself.

Aesthetic

You appreciate art, beauty, and design; you know that they are not superficial but absolutely crucial to living the good life. You have good taste, and you're proud of it. Those with a high score on the "aesthetic" trait are often employed in literary or artistic professions, enjoy domestic activities — doing things around the house — and are enthusiastic about the arts, reading, and travel.

You don't think it's pretentious to be moved by art and beauty. You're not one of those who believe it doesn't matter what something looks like as long as it does its job.

Sympathetic

You have a knack for knowing what's going on in the hearts and minds of those around you, without their having to tell you explicitly. People tend to turn to you with their problems because they know you care, and that you will likely offer good advice and a helping hand.

You do not feel that people with sad stories are just looking for attention, or have brought their problems upon themselves.

Reserved

You are somewhat shy, or at least unwilling to spend all your time socializing. With you it's true that "still waters run deep," which is why many of your acquaintances never get to know you well.

You are not always ready to talk at the drop of a hat. Whether you're in the office or at a party, you're not likely to be found gabbing away in the middle of a group of people.

Solitary

You are a private person, not very comfortable in a big group, and view excessive socializing as a waste of time.

You not prefer hanging out with others to spending time alone; you do not tend to feel at home in a crowded room, club, stadium, or auditorium.

Acquiescent

You are comfortable in your own skin and don't need to throw your weight around. You'll often choose to be the one who is told what to do rather than the one who's doing the telling, and you sometimes avoid confrontations even if it means that you won't get your way.

You aren't interested in making others bend to your will or in always dishing out criticism. You're not a pushy person, and you like it that way.

Understanding

You are willing to take the time to find out what's going on with other people, especially if they're in distress. You're a good listener, you don't criticize, and you offer unbiased, respectful, honest advice when it's requested. With a high score on the "understanding" trait, it is likely that you are enthusiastic about charitable work, helping others, and making the world a better place.

You don't feel the need to impose your standards on others or say things that, even though true, cause pain.

Scrupulous

You are an honest, fair person. You don't lie or cheat to get ahead. You treat others with respect and hope for the same in return.

You do not feel that you are above the rules that everyone else follows; you are definitely not willing to do whatever it takes to get ahead.