i dream

i dream about this man. the first man that i ever love, not that i know what love is. his smile is tired and i can see bruises in him from the tear and wear of life. i can see his life like a tattoo written all over his body . i whispered in his ear,'i love you,' and he smiled, whispering the word back to me. the word that he never got the chance to tell me. and he let me hugged him.

and i wonder who he is. i don't remember his name

i wish

I wish for the world without dirty dishes and laundry, or if they exist, they can clean after themselves. I wish for the world when people would be less sensitive about themselves and more about other. I wish for the world when i could put the kids in silence and pause mode, especially when i want to be left alone. I wish for the world without prejudice against race, religion, skin color, and the color of your teeth. I wish for the world when interior is as important as exterior. I wish for the world when food can come out of thin air and people wanted other things than the things i made would provide for themselves instead of asking, saying,'it's easy.' when it's easy, go do it yourself. i wish for the world of little prince, where you can live in a very small world and only a sheep as a company. i wish for the world without pain. i wish for the world with shoes but without socks, or better, i wish for the world with the feet of the hobbits. i wish for the world without headache, or if it is exist, i could just put myself into unconsciousness so no one would think that i pretend the pain. i wish for the world with stop and go back button, like in DVD, or perhaps change another scene button. i wish for the world without words but compassionate action only. i wish for the world of giving, not only takes. i wish for the world where i can be alone once in awhile ranting crazily like this. i wish for another world because this world is tiring and boring sometimes. i wish that i could wish...

somewhere in between

so where have i been and where i am heading?

lately i've been losing sleep. and lost for words. i mean, like really really losing it. i forget the name of a place, i can't manage to name the things that i think, i said everything all wrong, not to mention all those switch thinking between English-Dutch, Dutch-English got me trapped in words.

i refuse to think that this is all because of the moon. see, as a cancer (rules by moon, if you don't know what i mean, please check your horoscope manual book. if you don't read or understand horoscope, oh well), they said my mood affected by moon's movement and the fact that today's full moon have anything to do with my mood is just plainly rubbish (well, i am officially no longer a cancer since there this ophiucus that ruined all the other horoscope. man, i don't want to be a gemini. i want to stay cancer just as horribly as i am now so i would forget all those clever scientific proof and wait for another 20 year to say yes to ophiucus).

i am a cancer. a moody useless touchy cancer. i am miserably happy as i am, or put it more precisely, i am miserably unhappy but i'd love to stay that way as i am.

bring me my moon and leave me alone. yeah.

another car crash day. i don't know why i can't avoid it. my mind just won't stop thinking. thinking and ticking. thinking and ticking

too much expectation can kill you. literally. really.

-and i am walking away through the back door singing. the rain falling. and someone's crying. if only life as easy as making rhyme-

what is

so what is love? what is affection? what is relationship?
what is life? what is priority? what is things to do?
what is dream? what is hope? what is wish?
what is hurt? what is pain? what is remembering?
what is difference? what is other? what is else?
what is me? what is you? what is us?

favorite memories

it is forgetting, not remembering, that is the essence of what makes us human
-Jorge Luis Borges-

question of the day is, what is your favorite memories?

yesterday i heard someone asked Stephen Hawking that mundane question, and i heard myself asking me the same question.

what is your (my) favorite memories? it left me think long and hard.

and today, i must admit my defeat. i don't remember.

i used to remember those (usually rainy) days in Cibodas, where i used to spent my days by just watching the the quiet world go by. i can even smell the fogs. but now, i am no longer remember it.

i used to remember dearly another spot below Gede Pangrango, those green and lush Pondok Halimun at Selabintana, where i used to spent my night watching the stars. But now, that too vanished from my memory.

i used to remember those days (and nights) that i spent with my dear friends, talked about everything, from silly movies to Nietszche on that small building that no longer exist now near the basketball field in our campus, sometimes with one of my friends played the almost ruined piano on that room. and i got upset over two little birds that fall dead from the height of Agathis Damara. but now, the memories left me.

I don't remember many things. i forget names and faces. i don't remember our last vacation to paris, except for the lady on the bus with her dog and her fancy bag. i don't remember my son's first walk. i don't remember how my daughter grows up so quickly. i don't remember how sweet my husband's smile is, and everytime i discover his smile as something new.

memories is a strange thing. it always have its way. NatGeo said that in the archives of the brain our lives linger or disappear.

is that mean that with my inability to recall my favorite memories my life slipped away from me?

but wait, i do remember those not so good of memories. i do. i still remember it.

does my brain now pick up the habit of sorting out only the bad memories to keep? or my brain just getting old?

honestly, i don't know. but surely, i want to have favorite memories too. even Stephen Hawking have one.

angel

seorang teman menulis di blog-nya  diawali dengan pertanyaan, why people can be so mean? sebuah pertanyaan yang tidak bisa saya jawab, tidak sampai sekarang. dulu pertanyaan itu pernah muncul, ketika ada orang yang dengan wajah puas menyakiti saya. but they did it because they think i hurt them, or because i hurt someone they love. it's like eye for an eye thing. other people did it to protect people they love. it's kind of maternal love and instinct. people have their own justification to be mean. doesn't mind whether their reason would justify their action. it's not for me to say.

but, to tell the truth, i can be mean too. when i am tired and i need a break, i could be mean. when i think people just doesn't give me things that i want-while i gave them all that i can give- i am become mean. it's hard not expect something from other people. even maternal love want something from their child. though i don't wake up in the morning declaring to myself that i would be mean today. sometimes, i just can't help it. sometimes, it just happened without me planning it. maybe because i think other people doesn't understand me and my meanness supposed to mean my way to ask other people to understand me, to beg for an attention in an odd-hilarious way.

and i did mean things that i would regret for the rest of my life, yes. and i would spend the rest of my life living with the memory and my effort to mend the error.

some people, when misunderstood, become self-destructive. other become mean. i can be both.

when this morning, when i tried to make my son not to fall from his bed, he was mad and pulled my hair out of anger, i was angry too. i felt misunderstood by a two years old. i felt that i didn't deserve the pull of a hair. what did i do? i was angry, and i became mean. i was mad at him.

but yeah, when i think about it now, i don't know if my son meant to be mean by pulling my hair. i don't know if the pulling of my hair is a signal of meanness or just a disturbed sleep -of course he didn't know that i tried to save him from falling. when he wakes up he was all smile, and forget all about the hair pulled.

maybe it's all just misunderstanding. maybe all those people who beats other people to death is just actually screaming for help. maybe life wasn't being kind to those people. maybe it was just a disturbed sleep, or life.

maybe like my friend said, it's better to just put a smile on your face, be kind, though probably no one would be kind to you in return. you can be an angel on earth. at least one person you can save from become mean by being nice is yourself. have a mercy on yourself. because other probably won't. and smile would do you good. if it's do other people good, then good.

i always try to think that everybody is an angel deep inside. there's a reason for everything, for the meanness, for the madness. though i have to say, the older i get, the more i questioned my beliefs for so many times. but i refuse to believe that only devil exist in human. because that would be too scary of a thought, and i am too coward to think about those scary things. because, in order to stay sane, i need to think about beautiful things. and though this world sometimes offer me unpretty pictures, i refuse to see it.

maybe i should start to talk. with all the chances of being misunderstood, there's also chances that other people would start to understand.

maybe, yeah, maybe. definitely maybe...i don't really know what i am trying to say here. really.

(the world of) silence

the world of silence is dangerous territory. once you felt into it, you doesn't feel the need to get out. you started to feel that you don't miss anything. not the pseudo attentions nor the ignorances that sometimes parading your life day in and day out. not the speaking world where everything always misunderstood.

in the world of silence, you just accept. or probably, just doesn't care. because no opinion can be yours to speak so nothing that you should fight for. and you feel that long wanted peace in your heart. the peace of accepting (of nothing).

the world of silence is a alone place but not necessarily lonely. it's the chaplin of the world. and when you don't speak, the world leaves you to yourself, and you blurred into the background (but what is doesn't blurred into the background after some times?) and you started to feel, i don't need anything else. just my silence.

floccinaucinihilipilification*

i fished myself out of my shell this morning. feel like a car crash. my usually reliable body become unreliable lately, exhausted from everyday wear and tear.

my son sings his unintelligible song downstair. he sounded so happy. i guess it's twinkle-twinkle little star. the song. and i wonder what the hell was i doing there. in bed. under the blanket.

so i fished myself out of my shell. from under my blanket. because my son's unintelligible song lulled me. invited me. he sounds so happy. happy without me. and it makes me sad.

soon there would be days when he doesn't want to be hug, or think that he wish someone else as a mom. yeah. but today i would enjoy this day as the day of many days when he thinks that i am his center of universe. almost godlike. i am a juno's jupiter to him. or jupiter himself. whatever.

so there we are. my cheek against his cheek. opening our window to the cold autumn wind that comes too early. and we sing the song to the trees that moves forcefully in front of our eyes and send the cold shivering wind to our faces.

from my abandoned computer, it plays the Beatles All You Need is Love.
yeah. all you need is love. the rest will take care of themselves.

*n. the estimation of something as valueless

on loneliness

so tell me, what is loneliness, exactly?