huhuhuuuu...

“Iteman, si?”

“Wow! You got your tan!”

“Deeeuuu yang baru liburaaaan...”

Balik dari Bali dengan kulit yang gosong sentosa, gue jadi familiar sama komentar2 macem begituan. Emang, main panas2an tiap hari bikin kulit gue jadi item. Tapi kan udah gue bilang, gak peduli juga sih, soalnya sebanding banget sama segala hal2 cihuy under the sun yang gue lakuin di sana. Jadi, komentar2 seputar kulit gue yang iteman selalu gue jawab dengan cengiran jumawa. Tapi itu sebelum kejadian sore ini pas gue lagi sok gaya luluran di salon. Si mbak2 kapster yang ramah dan murah senyum itu tiba2 nanya sama gue...

“Cowoknya bule ya, mbak?”*

Kampret! Kok gue sebel yahhhh... jadi maksuth lo apeeee? Gue setipe sama cewek2 cem2annya buleeeeeee???? Huaaa... gue tau si mbak2 itu gak bermaksud nyebelin, orang cuma ngomong cowoknya bule doang, huhuuuu, dan kaga ada hubungannya, temen gue aja banyak yang cowoknya bule dan mereka juga cihuy2 aja kok. Tapi tetep ajaaaa... huhuuuu... gue benci stereotipeeeee...

Hella Bali (Part I)

Oh yeah what the hell. This morning I gave a metal sign to my reflection on the mirror. Screw these utterly atrocious-looking pimples, that went sprouting and blossoming in every available lease on my face like the spring of July. Screw these beautifully mangy complexion, the flawless dirt-colored skin of mine, the hopelessly tousled hair, screw them all, screw them all. How would I, o godhead, ever complained, upon these fantabulous days I had. When I got to lie down at the sandy beach of Kuta in the stark of the night, the first night I arrived here. Looking at the stars and watching them colors swirling and twirling before me. When I got to see bits by bits of sands went elevated, floating like bubbles up to the effervescent sky. Clouds of aurora dancing and musing in slow motion, eating and rolling the twinkling stars in the hay. When I got to sing to every Beatles' song I know with the band of the sea playing the waves melody serenading every tune I made. I felt the utmost kindness overflowing in my blood stream, gushing in every heartbeat. I felt beautiful, I felt unruffled, calm and ecstatic at the same time, so elevated, I felt that there should be a song dedicated to my splendiferous being. “I should live and die by the sea! This is across the universe, floating in the sky like diamond. This is blackbird singing in the dead of night, and if you want me to, I will! I will!” Darn crazy mushroom!

The second night here, I wandered around, I gazed at the loitering crowds of Legian roaming around upon the noisy night, back and forth, back and forth. I took some sips, and the trip then brought me to a square room where everything was black and white. I felt a little bit claustrophobic, but it didn't take me away from noticing them shadows making lazy motions on the wall. It was quiescent, yet exhiliarating. I turned the tv on and meditated upon the dramatic sounds they played in every movie score. The fact that I felt overwhelmed with pulses of enlightment after watching The House of Wax, made me understand why they made the word 'crazy' embedded with the complete phrase.

The next day, off to dreamland I went. After bathed in a little bit of rain of adrenalines in Benoa. A little bit, I said. Not that much. I happened to think that human-made rain of adrenaline couldn't even go as close to the rhapsodic ecstasy offered by the nature-produced substances. Not that I didn't gorge every single drip of adrenaline offered, though. And dreamland was beautiful, the strikingly clear blue sky, the clean white sands, I dipped my feet beneath and felt the coolness of it dampening my sunbaked toes. I waved the sun good sleep as it went setting down.

On the fifth day, I went to Amed. Impressively far, we went through all these beautiful remote villages in Bali. Made a stop at Amlapura for breakfast, the place were stunning with oldschool Dutch architectural buildings adorning the traditional market. It's not until two hours later that we finally reached Eco-Dive, the diving site of our destination. Once again I bode my ignorance upon the beady-eyed sunshine. It was 12 at noon, I couldn't even care less how the lumbering weight of my scuba tank hurt my spine as I dragged myself as close as I can to the sea shore. Sun was warm and the burden on my back got lighter and lighter as I drown myself deeper and deeper. It was miraculous down there, indeed. School of fish in sparkling color were fluttering all around me, I touched the nearest anemones that waved upon me flirtatiously. It was soft and jelly-like. Upon my head the rays were penetrating the sea surface, like the swords of light diffusing everything on their ways. I chased a yellow fish with blue lines on its fins that swam right in front of my nose, but I was too joyous, the burst of air bubbles dazzled my sight out of the flickering little fish. I lost any track of time and space, though I wasn't failed to remind myself to look at my air gauge every once in awhile. It's not until Made, my dive-buddy, softly pulled my left flipper, that I saw his thumb pointed upwards, a sign to greet the surface at last. I took off my goggles, and Made was a bit startled. “You're bleeding.” He said, pointed out at my nose. “Am I?”, I wiped my nose off and saw lines of red smearing the back of my palm. It must be the air pressure down there, I was too happy chasing the fish I rarely equalized. It was nothing serious, though. Nothing that could beat the fun I felt that day.

So how could I complain about all these sunburn pain, the ache in my ear, and the flakes on my head? When I'm writing this while lying lazily under the sun that shines brightly upon the sandy beach of Kuta. How dare I could ever complained? Just bring me more arak attack, and some more bacons, please!

Menahun

aku ingin mabuk menahun :) kuingin ambil semua zat sedatif yang tersebar di udara lalu menyatu dengan debu dinding. agar tidak kuingat lagi kala air matamu kutampung dalam botol-botol kaca, lalu kusimpan tersusun rapi dalam lemari. terberi label nama dan khasiat. dahaga lepas tapi pipimu pias. agar tidak kuingat lagi kala jantungmu, hatimu, paru-paru yang menderukan napasmu adalah bantalan empuk untuk jarum-jarum jahitku, sebelum mulai kuuntai benang dan kutisik lagi selimut mimpi kita. agar tidak kuingat lagi kala setiap ruam syaraf otakmu terasuki jaring laba-laba yang kupintal panjang berujung pada rambut yang kuminta kamu belai setiap hari kita bermimpi.
aku ingin mabuk menahun.
aku ingin memikirkan kalau kamar tempat aku tidur adalah sebuah pulau kecil sunyi berbentuk tanda koma.

Desember

Selalu ada yang bernyanyi dan berelegi

Di balik awan hitam

Semoga ada yang menerangi sisi gelap ini

Menanti..

Seperti pelangi setia menunggu hujan reda

Aku selalu suka sehabis hujan di bulan Desember

Di bulan Desember...

Sampai nanti ketika hujan tak lagi

Meneteskan duka meretas luka

Sampai hujan memulihkan luka...

*song by erk



dan apalagi yang bisa kubilang kali ini karena sungguh persediaan pura-pura ku sudah menguap terbuang ke sudut-sudut ruangan...

Always Look On The Bright Side of Life...

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...

If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...

For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.

So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath

Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.

And always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the right side of life...
(Come on guys, cheer up!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the bright side of life...
(Worse things happen at sea, you know.)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(I mean - what have you got to lose?)
(You know, you come from nothing - you're going back to nothing.
What have you lost? Nothing!)
Always look on the right side of life...

This song is from Life of Brian, Monty Python. Sing Sisie sing! hufffffff...
image was taken from trishbeeuk.blogspot.com

Always Look On the Bright Side of Life

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...

If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.

And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.

So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath

Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.

And always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the right side of life...
(Come on guys, cheer up!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the bright side of life...
(Worse things happen at sea, you know.)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(I mean - what have you got to lose?)
(You know, you come from nothing - you're going back to nothing.
What have you lost? Nothing!)
Always look on the right side of life...

from Monty Python, image was taken from trishbeeuk.blogspot.com/

hai dan halo

hai halo. saya kembali. setelah hiatus sekian lama karena beratus juta hal, teknis maupun tidak begitu teknis sampe yang dicari-cari. blog saya kembali lagi. dan saya akan menulis lagi. saya janji. sekarang itu dulu lah.

sampai jumpa.
-sie-

put a smile on your face and make the world a better place

i dont need make-ups, or masks, i never do. i just have to smear that paste upon my lips and put on that drawing i made before.
beeyatch.
should i wait a few more days before i really ask? would that make much of a difference?

almost eight, i should go home now. my body's falling apart.
too tired to write, yet i got so many things to scream out.
oh i'm such a very nice girl, am not i?

-sie-

*artwork by Amanda Walujo

not pretty enough?

Am I not pretty enough
Is my heart too broken
Do I cry too much
Am I too outspoken
Don't I make you laugh
Should I try it harder
Why do you see right through me

I live
I breathe
I let it rain on me
I sleep
I wake
I try hard not to break
I crave
I love
I've waited long enough
I try as hard as I can

chorus

I laugh
I feel
I make believe it's real
I fall
I freeze
I pray down on my knees
I hope
I stand,
I take it like a man
I try as hard as I can

chorus

why do you see
why do you see
why do you see
why do you see right through me

*Kasey Chambers

in the middle of OTAK NGEHANG... sialaaaann padahal minggu depan deadline kerjaan gue baru kelar 10% doang... dan OTAK gue NGEHANG... @nj**G!!
anyway, currently listening to this tune, and it's just me being too sappy but this song really touches.
-sie-

nyam!

i know who i want to take me home :)
and i think it's beautiful

-sie-

addictedtowhat?

I don't wanna get married.
I just want to feel loved for the rest of my life until I die.
If marriage means a way to keep the one you love from leaving you when they feel like leaving you and they want to leave you because they no longer love you anymore and no longer loving you would mean that they would stop sharing and giving love to you and making you feel loved,
Then I don't wanna get married.
I want to feel loved for the rest of my life until I die.
You can go as far as you want,
You can drift away and never come back
I will not hold myself from wanting to feel loved for the rest of my life until I die.

-sie-

*picture was taken from the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

I should be thinking about some other more important questions in life but I cant stop myself thinking about these...

How do you define infidelity? How do you define unfaithfulness? Does holding hand in hand with the opposite sex other than your partner means that you are unfaithful? Does thinking of having sex with another person makes you unfaithful? Does seeing pornographic material or some show in the chatroom means that you are not faithful to your partner? Does looking at some girl or boy masturbating in the webcam for you can be defined as unfaithful?
How about cybersex?
How about phonesex?
Or some fucking sms-sex, whatever that means...
Okay, let's change the question.
What does fidelity mean anyway?
Is there actually such concept in life?
Answer
Answer
Answer please

-sie-

Ramadan

I used to love this song so much when I was a kid, aged six or seven. I remember, I used to listen to this song every ramadan, played in my dad working room, always after he had finished his Tarawih pray (he didnt usually do his Tarawih pray in the mosque) and read some Koran verses. He always played this Bimbo song, 'Rindu Kami Padamu' along with other Bimbo's songs of course. But this song was the one I love the best. Back then, I thought the song was beautiful, It describes one's love for his prophet, his longing to feel the sincere and peaceful love of his prophet. I still think that it is a beautiful song.

Rindu Kami Padamu

Rindu kami padamu ya rasul rindu tiada terperi
berabad jarak darimu ya rasul
serasa dikau di sini

cinta ikhlasmu pada manusia
bagai cahaya suarga
dapatkah kami membalas cintamu
secara bersahaja

rindu kami padamu ya rasul
rindu tiada terperi
berabad jarak darimu ya rasul
serasa dikau di sini

cinta ikhlasmu pada manusia
bagai cahaya suarga
dapatkah kami membalas cintamu
secara bersahaja


Back then, when I used to listen to this song, I never knew that there are people that would threat me to death if I wont cover my body with their so called 'decent' clothes, if I speak up my mind and trying to question things that I think need to be questioned, if I try to find answers with my own efforts and wont surrender myself to their rigid and unquestionable rules, if I want to love my God, and my prophet with my own way.
I wonder, if Muhammad still alive, would he want to kill me too like all those people?
I might know nothing about Muhammad but if those evil people who want to behead other people because they are different to them really believe that whatever they're doing is within the guidelines of Muhammad and the religion he taught us (with all their jargons of jihad and bagaimana mereka meneladani Muhammad), I dont think I would want to have such an evil and violent prophet to guide my way.
I prefer a more peaceful and loving prophet.
Maybe it's just a matter of interpretation.

Happy Ramadan, everyone.

-sie-

absurd sekali hidup ini yah?

baby, yes you baby, one that i love really really dear...
i'm only twelve while you are eighteen
every single thing that excites me is just another mundane for you
this you already knew, that you found unsurprising
been there done that
you said
well
no baby
i havent been there and that i havent done
baby baby baby
if it's for me, would you want to do stupid things and
pretend that it is so excitingly new for you too?
then we can drown ourselves in thrill
while holding hand together looking one to another
before we close our eyes together
anticipating the waves of fun swept us overjoyed?

-sie-

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

the dining dead

Dinner at Kang's again. Are we like those poor couples, you feel sorry for in the restaurant? Are we the dining dead? I cant stand the idea of us being a couple people think that about…
Joel : How's the chicken?
Clementine : Good. More?
Joel : No. No. Thank you.

*taken from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Days and days and weeks and here comes the year. Of constant talking. Some say it is called communication. And communication is the key to the healthy relationship. It helps you to know each other better. But constantly talking doesn't necessarily means communicating. And if you keep on talking and talking and talking and explaining and opening your self up, whatever will happen when everything is all exposed? Done exposed? Period. All your thoughts then got all dug up, all your point of views and beliefs and stances got all unfurled and arrayed, all your cute little hidden dreams got all discovered, all your biggest fears, all your most shameful experiences? Whatever will happen next? What will make me think that YOU are interesting baby? All that interesting about you I already know. You are like this one my very favorite book. My most favorite book of all. I read you over and over and over and over again, I drowned myself in your crazy and wicked adventures again and again and again, now I even know every fucking single detail of the story of the book, every hidden corner, every dialogue the characters make, like I can even tell everything about the book without even reading it, with my eyes closed. Like, I know what will happen next to the hero, what will he say next and how he will get his victory. Then, baby, tell me, even though that book is my favorite book, will I still consider it interesting if I already know everything about the book? Of course I wont discard that book, because I love that book so much, but I would probably just leave the book in my book shelf, while beginning to look for something interesting to read. Not necessarily needs to be more interesting, for I know that I might not find some other book that really suits my interest like that my one favorite book, but you know... some other book that will give me something new interesting things to dig out, to discover, to unfurl...

Honey I am so lost in this thought. Help me out?

-sie-

automendification machine

I own this machine called an automendification machine.

Like its name, it works by automatically mend things

that are in need to be mended.

For its fuel, it uses anything in me that can be burnt.

picture was taken from: www.kcdawncreation.com

-sie-

depressive senseless irritation and endless furious aggravation

I say. Just kill me. Kill me quick and painless. Get over this phrenic bursting rollercoaster already. Stop torturing me every fucking single month with this depressive senseless irritation and endless furious aggravation. After writing a full page of tirade which contained exactly forty-three 'bitch' words in it and ninety-eight 'fuck/fucking' words addressed to my beloved roommate (only of course I would not want to post the writing here for the sake of avoiding some unnecessary and rather unworthy friction) and getting so raged when my boyfriend actually used the word 'expendable' to justify his argument why he thinks it is rational for him to risk his own life by dragging wherever he goes his fellow soldier's dead flesh when he's in the middle of the war (ah, the fucking long debate that I think would even be too long to be put here, well maybe later some other time). Not too mention, impulsively spending more than forty thousand rupiahs just for food today. And gotten really fucking sappily overdramatic when my boyfriend didn't call, frigging really sensitive and irritated with someone else's laughter, and had made five slaughter plans in my head today for five different persons that I found really got into my nerves today. And I feel stupid and I feel that nobody likes me and I seriously think that my boyfriend should come here and give me a hug and say sweet things to me. HAH! But of course that wouldn't happen. I want to slit some throats. One of my friends just said that he had a sore throat. Why, my friend, why don't you come here and show that velvety throat to me, maybe I can do you a favor to get rid off your sore. See, if I slit your throat, you won’t feel any sore no more. Now for that I can be one hundred percent sure.

-arghed me-

something surreal in the morning

merokok dji sam soe jam enam pagi dengan cahaya kamar redup redup gimana gitu membuat review CD Sitting On Anything Cold dan sebuah band death metal bernama death vomit (heck why do people really love to groooowwwlll in death metal, dont they know that dead people dont groooowwwwwllll? dead people are dead, what else do you expect???), jempol agak sedikit dingin dingin beku butuh kehangatan gitu, dengan teman sekamar yang setengah telanjang lagi berpelukan sama teman tidurnya. i hope they dont wake up. oh please dear lord dont let them wake up and wiggle again. nap. exactly, the power of wishing something for not happening, they tend to happen. shit. and they wiggle again. right beside me. like um fifteen centimetres next to me. and they wiggle. wiggle. wiggle. hands everywhere. shit. i cant help but notice. oh dear lord please let me concentrate on this guy's groooowwwll in my PC's speakers, whatever it is that he's grooooowwwwl-ing about. fuck. i cant. oh they change position. i want to choke my roommate's neck. nah. dont have the right to. just smoke again baby smoke. hey i make love better than her. i make better move. fuck. concentrate here, sisie. hey what if i join them?. PLAK. i slap my own head. smokesmokesmokesmoke again. oh dead guy from the cd how i love that u are growling.

-sie-

EQ sh*tes...

The bitch might be a champion dramaqueen but she surely scores best in handling emotion. Ironicly, that was also the very reason why her boyfriend decided to leave her once. ahahaha. And you thought life is so boring... :p

Your EQ is 153

50 or less: Thanks for answering honestly. Now get yourself a shrink, quick! 51-70: When it comes to understanding human emotions, you'd have better luck understanding Chinese. 71-90: You've got more emotional intelligence than the average frat boy. Barely. 91-110: You're average. It's easy to predict how you'll react to things. But anyone could have guessed that. 111-130: You usually have it going on emotionally, but roadblocks tend to land you on your butt. 131-150: You are remarkable when it comes to relating with others. Only the biggest losers get under your skin. 150+: Two possibilities - you've either out "Dr. Phil-ed" Dr. Phil... or you're a dirty liar.

What's Your EQ (Emotional Intelligence Quotient)?

told you told you told you

of out there out there
told you i'm going to be out of there soon!
wish me good luck guys! :)

body and soul

it's just the body i'm selling not my soul
it's just the body i'm selling not my soul
fluttering wings
what's the use the wings that flutter
but cant fly
closed eyes filled tears
but it's just
it's just the body i'm selling not my soul
you know?
................
but how do you know which one's your body
and which one's your soul?

-sie-

picture was taken from www.onlyinhouston.org

salaamm postmopoliteeess!

You scored as Postmodernist. Postmodernism is the belief in complete open interpretation. You see the universe as a collection of information with varying ways of putting it together. There is no absolute truth for you; even the most hardened facts are open to interpretation. Meaning relies on context and even the language you use to describe things should be subject to analysis. Existentialist 88% Postmodernist 88% Modernist 81% Cultural Creative 69% Materialist 63% Romanticist 56% Idealist 38% Fundamentalist 31% What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com

the night of the world cup final

Alone in my room, 9.40 PM. Boyfriend was gone out with the boys, having some beers they said before watching the world cup final at the town square. My feet were itching of the foot cream after waxing. The sublime irony of the pain and the beauty. They looked beautiful, hairless, smooth, smelled nice of lavender and mint, the smell of my foot cream. I love the look and the smell of it. Only he didnt notice.
If only he would notice. If only he would say something. It was too trivial, I guess. His girlfriend newly hairless feet, with the sweet smell of lavender and mint. How would he possibly know that there were indeed several strands of hair were gone from his girlfriend's feet? That’s just too absurd.
But at least he could say something about the hair? His girlfriend's newly dyed hair. Dark cobalt blue. Just been dyed this morning when he was once again out finishing his work in the office. It's Sunday, and he's not even home all day. He ought to know that Sunday is my only day off. Having to work from ten to seven every single day from Monday to Saturday, he ought to know that Sunday is my only day to enjoy myself all day. And when it comes to enjoying something, I always want to share it with the one I love. It's him the one I love and it's me I want to share.
But he's been out all day and this Sunday I was alone enjoying myself.
Funny how the word 'enjoying myself' sounds very much quite similar with the word 'lonely' when he's not around.
I made myself some coffee. Black, as usual. Past the mirror when I went back to my room with a cup of coffee in my hand. I took a quick glance and realized that the color of my hair was not that different from before. There was a vague sheer of dark blue gleaming subtly. But that was it. No wonder that he didnt notice.
I sipped my coffee while carefully choosing the book that I wanted to read for the night. Old Lewis Caroll's Through the Looking Glass. When the emotion's sprinkled here and there, mixed up in disarray, you would want to read something surreal.
Maybe it's true that I was too melodramatic, but I missed him, fucking chronically.
And of all the days in the world, this sappy feeling came at the night of the world cup final, where everybody in this fucking world was busy fussing about Zinedine Zidane, Gennaro Gattuso, Francesco Totti, Thierry Henry, blafblafblaf. Of course nobody would notice about some girl's newly dyed hair, or her hairless feet that smell really really nice.
Or how I would really love to share myself that night.

-sie-

Ps: all the setting and the characters were made up. Any similarity with the real life would just be a coincident.

the curse of SamsonS

Do you believe in curses? I dont. But I begin to do. I think I'm being cursed, wickedly, by this guy, this pretentious kitschy guy who sang some unforgivable song about his raunchiness of being touched by thousands of women while shamelessly flaunting that his sole purpose in life is to chase the chicks. (You know what song I mean, right? Oh please... it's eekingly everywhere in town, so happening it invades your life like Paris Hilton and her inevitable phrase of "OH...itu panaassss")
Right. So, I had placed this guy and the rest of his band beneath my contempt. I cant even count all the sarcastic remarks I've given to them. And now, I'm truly cursed.

-sigh- So for those of you who doesn't know, I'm working at some stupid tacky teenage and children magazine that proclaimed to be, and priced itself to be, an A+ magazine. They pay me quite well, but torment me every here and there with their philistine taste. When I first decided to accept the offer, I thought I could make something there, I mean...it sounded challenging enough, you know, to somehow enlighten and bring the magazine out of the dark. Besides, they seemed willing to pull themselves out of the dark by firing all the boards and the teams that used to make the unjustifiable previous editions of that magazine and making some really brand new creative teams, young people from various background mostly fresh graduates with fresh idealism and all that jazz, with me who happens to be one of them. So I was quite excited at first, you know, knowing that I could freely pour my creativity and all those evil plans in my head to somehow brainwash my readers, those children, to stop imitating Paris Hilton or… well you know what I'm talking about. I spent quite fun actually hunting for the news and report for my articles.

Until I realized, and this was known to me later, rather way too late actually, that they have a very bad and lousy management. I didnt know that the boards and the reporters from the previous editions of the magazine hadnt been discharged entirely. They had excluded the editor in chief of the previous magazine. Which of course was a truly stupid decision, because obviously she was the genesis of the deadly disease. Since she was the editor in chief she was the one who held the final decision and the one who decided what topic should be taken for the magazine. I really dont know whose idiot decided to let her stay and continuously ruin the magazine. And the worse thing about all is that, I dont know how and why, but when me and my team was working to finish the first edition of the newly born magazine, she was too doing exactly the same thing with her team in her office. So at the same time, there were two magazines being made, my version and her version. And you know what, at the end of the term, when I was quite happy that me and my team had finally made it before the deadline, all the articles and design, all of a sudden I came to the office and found a copy of a magazine, with a letter on top of it, saying that I had to translate to English some of the contents there. I was like...what? What contents? Then I looked up the magazine, and yap...you guess right, it was not my version of the magazine, it was hers, and it would be printed officially. Hers, and all her stupid articles, and not mine. I really didnt understand what had happened, why they had taken her articles instead of mine, if they really want to make a new version of the magazine and they had stated that they were quite unsatisfied with the works of the previous team, then why did they take her version instead?

But that's not even the worst part, when I looked the magazine up, I found that... instead of the name of her teams printed in the magazine, it was my team's name printed there. My team, my name, there...in that stupid magazine. As if I was the one who's responsible for the stupid contents of that magazine.
Now thats just so unethical, I didnt contribute anything to that magazine but they put my name there! You know, every single thing I made is my own portfolio, and that magazine, that edition is not my work, and I would never ever let that works become a part of my portfolio! That very stereotyping, cliche, non-creative, tacky, articles printed there. I would never make something like that!

But you know what you know what you know what? that's not even the worst of it, so when I looked up the teenage version of the magazine, this magazine, this so called self proclaiming A+ magazine with such a high price, had Nia Ramadhani and SAMSONS on the cover! What else could be tackier and stupider than that? Only idiots would pay Rp35.000 to read articles about Nia Ramadhani and Samsons while they could get it by only paying Rp.2500 at some cheap local infotainment tabloids. And when I looked at inside of it, yes...exactly...they had put my name there too. As if I agreed with all the contents written there, contributed my minds there, or wrote the articles there.

Pencemaran nama baik sungguh. Now all Jakarta would see that stupid magazines and they would also see my name in it, as if I'm the one who was responsible for all the stupidity there.
That's why I think I'm being cursed. The curse of *eeeek* Samsons.
Bleurgh.
Outta there really soon. Don't want any more pencemaran nama baik.

-sie-

Fucking Philistines!

i fucking hate my job. damn philistines who raped my name and use it anyway they want. they didnt wanna take my articles and still insisted in using their god damn philistine-worthless-cheesy-tacky-cheap topics. YET THEY PUT MY NAME ON IT as in i'm the one who wrote those WORTH-FUCKING-LESS articles.
gw marah sekali sampe ga bisa ngomong apa2. mana majalahnya udah naik cetak.
ntar gw ceritain dengan lebih lengkap deh... skrg gw lg di kantor sialan ini soalnya.
out of here pretty soon, though. they dont deserve me. i'm way too smart for them.

-sie-

THAT kind of man?

So the philosophy test I took, though it's rather pseudo-accurate... like Ferdi's remark... shows that I'm that Existensialist?
Hm. I didnt know i'm into Sartre that much. I mean... come on... the sexist who made Beauvoir appeared no more than his protegee for the rest of her life while secretely took Beauvoir's works as the source of his inspiration? Well... though of course I have to admit that his works, marked as one of the greatest works of modern philosophy...
But... you know...
The self-centered, smart-ass, arogant, think-he-knows-everything Sartre...I didnt know that it's that KIND of man that i find myself drawn into...
umm...well...
nevermind...

-jadedlittlesisie-

The philosophy I follow?

You scored as Existentialism. Your life is guided by the concept of Existentialism: You choose the meaning and purpose of your life. "Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does." "It is up to you to give [life] a meaning." --Jean-Paul Sartre More info at Arocoun's Wikipedia User Page... Existentialism 95% Kantianism 75% Utilitarianism 70% Strong Egoism 70% Hedonism 65% Justice (Fairness) 35% Nihilism 20% Divine Command 0% Apathy 0% What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03) created with QuizFarm.com

confused

now that i think of it. the fact that i'm still confused, even know. show how actively and healthily my brain works. well. maybe not healthily.
but isn't health is one of the world greatest issues, baby?

-sie-

bitchbitchbitchtheresonanceofthweordbitch

He called me bitch and then threw himself at the fire. I didn't like the antagonist part of the play but I knew that they are needed in every story. It's just that I was not used to play the role, so maybe I played it badly, not well enough to make a good criticism out of it. Perhaps thats why I didnt even like acting out, I preferred all those backstage fuss. You know, inventing plot, choosing costumes, decorating stages and all that jazz.

Bitch.
Hey, did you know that the word had gone ameliorated since the postmodern era came?

-sie-

pausing off

The dimming shades of light, right in the corner of the stage, our heroine sank down while absorbing the feeling of coldness spreading around in her chest. She's contemplating, concentrating to the sense of the flow of coldness slithering and creeping to every single vein in her body, and when the feeling of coldness reached her neck, creating a lonelier feeling even more than ever, she lifted up her right hand and placed it on her forehead, trying to seek any kind of warmness that she might still be able to sense. In a low muttering voice, she sighed "oh… the drama of my life, the pain, the agony…."
(Insert a scratching slap-in-the-head sound here…)

Alright, me had had my slap in the head, the drama queen had slapped back to the reality. Through with the drama queen phase, here goes my favorite phase, the bitter bitch; a time to chuckle a bit upon yourself while sharpening your machete. So this is where I am now, my bitter bitch phase. After spending four years an a half with a control-freak possessive psychotic, who had always managed to creep behind my back and had pledged to stab any kind of guy who’d dare tried to get near me, my next date was a blithely debonair Byronic villain who turned out to be an anti-establishment commitment phobic, whom, after our one year and a half relationship been going on quite steadily, got really freaked out and discarded me by saying "honey, I know that I’m so in love with you because it always feels like home every time I hug you, but sometimes I just don’t want to be home…" I seriously feel like a main character of a sappy chicklit now, and the worst part of it is that hell… I don’t even like chicklit. Ain’t just life a drama?
And here I am now, looking back all the paths of life I had been hopping all along, while bitterly laughing at myself. It's funny to realize that the habit of pausing off while we’re reading a book is always done in between the finished chapter, before we're starting to read on into the next chapter of the book. Ever wondered why, though? Why can't we just take a pause off in the middle of the chapter? Analyzing what had been read all along, taking little notes here and there, while thinking, guessing and predicting, based on notes and analyses we had made, of how the chapter that we’d been reading on would be in the end of the chapter. I guess it's because some of us, don't really like some spoiler of thoughts ruin the thrilling sensation of curiosity we feel while enjoying the reading. So the choose is might as well find the closure and make the more complete analysis about it afterward.
Well, the thing is, in reading books and stuff like that, you don't have to do the 'pausing off' part in a bitter bitch mood, while in the real life, it's sort of does, at least for me. Why? Because it sorts of affect my real feeling… duh… the feeling of coldness spread in the chest is not felt by the heroine in the book, it's my own coldness, my own fear, my sorrow and sadness.
But like chapters in book, the more chapters we read, the more knowledge we’d gather in understanding the story. About its main character and her role in the whole story, about her point of views, about the choices she had made, about other characters in the story and their relation and role to her, and finally about the flow of the story that leads to the climax.
So although most of the time done in my bitter bitch mood, my 'pausing off' part always at the very least give me more knowledge about me, myself, this little girl who sometimes can get so clueless in running her life. It always brings me new lessons, new understanding, new perspective in seeing my self and my life.

-sie-