Beware: Lotsa grammar mistakes.  Im too lazy to fix it.

She looks at herself in the mirror. It was bright nice 4 pm afternoon, where the orange shadow pierces through her big wide window, and falls perfectly on her right cheek accentuate the height of her cheekbone.  She smiles looking at the reflection.  Painful smile that has lots of stories in each corner of her mouth.  There she is, skinny looking woman in her peach satin wardrobe that hung loosely on the chest and snug perfectly on her hips. She lets out a sigh, arms down and shoulder couching. 

The sun is still as bright as ever, minutes after 4 in this island.  She squinted her eyes trying to capture the light with her stare. It pains her but she doesn't care for anything that feels more pain than what she's feeling now.  She walks to the bed and throws herself down, stares at the ceiling, counting imaginary boxes that would fit to the width of it.

"Sweetness, I count 32 boxes that fit there.  How many do you have?"
She turns to the empty space on her right.  " I got me 34"
She is murmuring a man's voice. 

You always top me by 2 boxes.
She bites her lip as the silent conversation she had with herself feels a bit too stabbing. 

"Look at me, love.  Look at me.  I am way prettier than I was before cuz I juts lost myself 5 pounds for you.  For every memories that connect me to you.  For every breath without you that chokes me.
And look at me love, look at me.  Peach colored satin dress that falls perfectly juts right above my knees, swaying frills sweep smoothly on my thighs, reminds me of your smile, and the smell of your after shave.  And the way you are looking at me.  And look! This is your favorite dress, and I'm wearing it for you."  

Her voice echoes in the emptiness of her room. Only her shadow dares to answer, and she felt something slowly strolling down her cheeks.  Wetting her mouth with its saltiness.  She licks them.  One after another.  They are racing down to reach her mouths and she is almost gagging trying to swallow every drops.

How do I stop this, she whispers.  Stop every object that will burst from a mere inch of my memories of you.  How do I stop looking back, looking for you.  How do I make you go.  Can I erase you.  Can I turn you into an invisible ink that appears only if I allow you.   Can you not let me die within this pain.  Erase me the pain of you. Erase you from my life.  Erase me.

She lays there motionless.  Dried track of tears on both of her cheeks glows from the orange sunlight that peaks through her big windows. 
The pain is circling inside her head.  She shakes her head, and gets up in a jolt.
I know how to make it disappear.  She felt fire burning in her eyes as she slowly undress.  I know how to melt you into nothing.  She felt the warmth of the sun on her skin and stands before the window. Naked.  Her dress hanging on her right hand, and she clutches it hard.

She opens the window. The wind breezes on her face and she closes her eyes feeling every kiss of it.  I'm erasing you love.  Simply because you wont erase yourself.  She extends her right hand out.  The clutch on her dress is weakening and she's feeling the satin materials caress her palm as it slips to slowly fall.  One two three..off you go.
The beautiful dress dances on the wind, swaying prettily.  She looks down at it feeling like half of her soul was being yanked out.  It pains her yet it relieves her.  She knows and realizes that she can't get trapped on peach satin color of pretty dress or on any object that screams his name.  She knows she has to let go.  And the only answer for her emptiness is only by filling it. 

The dress was pretty.  The memories were pretty. And today she feels less than pretty. But a lot more strength.  She knows the only way to erase him is to never look back. 
She sighs. 
Down stairs, clanging of plates signaling her for dinner.  As the clouds of her minds clear up she can hear people talking and laughing down stair.  She feels the bite as she know life is supposed to begin again. 

From down stair a voice calls to her.

"Emilyyyyy.. Dinneeeer.."

She forces herself to smile. She has just pulled the band-aid in one go.  It stings still but the wound has stopped.  She puts on white T-shirt and old jeans, ties her hair back and looks at herself in the mirror.

Pale.  But lives. 
It will all be ok.  Life is supposed to begin again.
Now.

 

 

2 people literally verbal forcing me (in a polite way) to accept their requests for meetings with me tomorrow. They have proposals they want me to review. I couldnt say no when they are literally putting schedule on my book saying lets meet at 3 tomorrow.
I looked at them. Smiling yet wanting to say, " I get you the first time, and i think it sucks ass. You need to observe whole layers of market before come to me and request me to sit down with you. And hoping i will sign the approval to release money for this kind of proposal is simply dreaming awake. so no, i dont want to have meetings with you no matter how wide your smile is, and no matter how white your teeth are. and get this. I am actually sick of seeing that kiss ass smile."

Yet im finding myself nodding, and not saying anything. I dont have the heart to wipe that smile and to stop the continuous convincing effort even tho it virtually makes me ache and nauseous.
How do i make it stop....how do i make it stop...how do i make it stop...
*sigh*


"Fine. lets meet up at 3"

It worked. it stopped. That big wide teeth flashing smile stopped. The lame continuous convincing effort stopped. And i'm relieved. for now. At least the guy left. Leaving trace of that big wide nauseating smile behind, along with overly enthusiatic handshake.
I'm nauseous. Knowing that this relieve is temporary. I have to say no eventually. I have to say that these proposals would not work, even if you cry over it. I know it already. Picturing i'll be sitting across them tomorrow listening to such uninteresting proposals. Making a mundane conversation, and stretching fake smile. Fuck. This is an "insurance salesman experience" all over again.
Can i say no over the phone... Can i just say i have to be in urgent meetings tomorrow... Can i say....

....maybe i should just skip work tomorrow.

or maybe i should simply say the truth. No thank you, your proposals will not work with us. Smile. then close the book. Write it off. Make it gone.

Hm... simplest things are sometimes the hardest to say.

All i want is that feeling of completeness.

Thats all i want.

And thats what i cant get.

Don't really know how to respond to someone who occupies all of your mind when he suddenly asked you "Who are you seeing now?"
Blank.
Huh, what are you suppose to answer.

Option 1
Yes im seeing someone (even tho you actually are not) just so that he wouldn't think that you are such a loser for not able to find someone after he left. Or worse, think that you can't move on. And that you cling to the fact that moments when you were with him are the moments you crave the most. And to that extent feed him major ego trip which in the long run he could use as something he can hold against you or play you with.

Option 2
be honest, as in No, Im not seeing anyone. And risk all of the above and also not to forget the major fact that he would pity you since you are being so naively honest about not being able to move on. And to that extend, will act all weird because he doesn't want to hurt you cause of the fact that he is banging some other girl already......or girls.....as in more than 2.....as in lotsa lotsa girls.....Orgy!*sigh*  . Then, will end the conversation with pathetic, "I can't be with you. Its the distance.  Things wouldve been different if we werent so far away from each other.  You are most beautiful person i have ever been with, you wouldnt have a hard time finding someone" routine.  And leave you all feeling shitty. And sorry. And battered. And cursing yourself for not using the other answer.

So what do you do? Do you lie? Do you tell the truth? In this case, has the truth ever been good to anyone?   Cuz all i wanna say actually....

No.  Im not seeing anyone.  I have not yet able to push you out of my thoughts no matter how hard im banging my head to get rid of it.  I have not yet able to get rid of this pathetic addiction of you. Will this make you pity me? will it?  Then dont.  Cuz nothing worse than having somebody that worth every breath of your air taking that deep sigh and pity you.  Nothing.

So what do you do..

 

Sitting down at the airport lounge thinking of whatever flavor left in my mouth from 7 days I tasted this city.  Its not anything new, it certainly is something that is somewhat familiar.  Dust dances on the road, the greasy smell of left over snacks thrown carelessly on the dirty street, the rushing walks on the sidewalks, car horns blazing across the busy street.
I used to share my walks over here in this city, I used to dance among the dust, avoiding rushing and cursing taxi drivers, I did my share of honking and cussing among these wide lighted streets (the one when you look only straight ahead, you wont notice the pitiful rumbled smelly card box some people called home). I used to be one of this. 4 years ago. 
Jakarta. This city has 2 faces. The one side is clean, pretty, busy city that has that superior grand feeling all stuck up city has.  The one when you walk among them you feel all grandeurized and suddenly sophisticated. The one that seep inside you secretly addicting when you know how to talk the talk and walk the walk. The one that makes you feel you are something. 

The other face is ugly. And smelly, and sweaty, and dirty, and ridiculously annoying, and intolerably dangerous  and ruthless. The crime rate is high ever since the new government order..well it has never been really low, but now it is just ridiculously scary.  It doesn’t take me more than a day to get paranoid.  It doesn’t take me more than a day to learn few Jakarta rules of safe living:

1. Don’t leave your purse out of sight.
2. Don’t carry your purse and looking like you are so carefree with it.  And don’t leave it opened.
3. Don’t leave your purse without tight attendance.
4. Don’t walk alone at night.
5. Don’t use your handphone while driving
6. Don’t leave your handphone in sight.
7. Better yet, don’t look like you own handphone.
8. always lock your car door, if you happened to stop at red lights, don’t look around looking oblivious.  Always stay alert.

I came here carrying the island attitude that I have adopted really well.  Laid back, generally trusting, and carefree. One hour spent at malls with my jakartan friends was enough to turn me into an uptight city chick.  Few regular phrases I was forced to get familiar with are:
"Em, watch your purse"
"Em, don’t carry your hand phone that way"
"Jesus Em, close your purse will you"
"Em, be careful of your purse.  Don’t carry it like that"

I was bombarded with warnings, slapped here and there, until I got to the point of never letting go of my purse.  Holding it really tightly as if it was some godly possession I have to guard with my life.  I was at the point of fooling myself that whatever in that purse was something I cant live without, something I’m willing to die for.  And in no time I lost all the trace of why I left this city 4 yrs ago. 

Yesterday evening, my friend asked me to have a dinner at this one big posh-like mall in Jakarta.  And 2 hrs before I spent fretting my ass off on what to wear, how much money I should bring, and how I should wear my hair.  Questions like would I need to get my nails and hair done, and most importantly, how should I wear my smile. 
Should I carry that loud snorting island laugh of mine (the one that flashes all your teeth and jiggle your tummy) or should I carry that sheepish sophisticated city smile (the one where your mouth reaches only quarter of your face, stopping at the right place where your cheekbones are properly mounted).  These inconsequential trivila questions are filling my head rapidly and drowning me.  I almost canceled the appointment.  But I went.  Wearing the ol’ little island me, sun kissed, laid back jeans and tight t-shirt, washed hair half dried, and some barely there make up (seriously.. I suck at make up, I figure, rather than being the laughing stock of impeccably polished jakartan girls cuz of my purple eye shadow, I just go without it).  I wore the one and only Anna Sui high heels shoes that I own, however.  At least I wouldn’t look too much like an island freak.

Arrived there, my friend greeted me and the first thing she said was, " oh god, you look soooo cutely island-ish,".  I smiled.  Not knowing what to say, except the usual how are you and do that famous Jakartan cheek to cheek kiss.  I wouldn’t want to wreck this reunion with my 2 hrs of fidgeting story when all I could come up with is looking like this.  Beside theres no beating the fun of hearing comments from old friends separated for so long and have nothing to say except commenting on each other looks.

I have so many stories I kept in my head during my trip to Jakarta.  The capital city of Indonesia.  I have so many nods to myself understanding why I cant wait to leave this city. 

But I do the walk, and I talk the talk.  And I do what is required to survive socially in this city.  And Im left feeling like an empty shell.  Vulnerable and easy to crush.
I’m at the airport waiting room now waiting for my flight back to Bali, the island that has shaped and deepens my soul, and am feeling this tremendous relief.   Relieve that I don’t have to turn so pretentious just so I can have some worth. Relieve that I can keep my soul intact.

But most importantly, that I don’t have to hold my purse so tight no more. 

Yeah. Its good to be back.

i saw him today. on webcam. sitting down doin something.
I just realized how much i miss him. tousled hair on that face. damn, it is lethal.

Im bleeding....band-aid me.

Well, Im in a blank period.  Period where you just want to shut yourself up, not doing anything, and not feeling anything. Floating state. 

Really, i dont know what to say. Even to myself.

I'll be back when im more sane.

Meanwhile, i want to post this beautiful poem of my cyber friend Happy, goes by the name Answer Seeking Girl.  Great great poetess and lovely girl as well.  She just had her birthday this Monday. Happy Birthday Happy. 

A little while longer
let me lie in Wonderland
reality too poignant
sharp-angled and black
in contrast to sheets of satin dreams
this is where I remain
in Never-Never Land
dining with poets and idealists
sharing wine with those who've made fantasy their mistresses
naked and vulnerable in secret corners
and deserted alleys
sharing a moment's lovemaking
their words their flesh
their extasy the birth of a new page

Call me the Poet Laureate of hallucinary landscapes
and forgotten continents
Call me the Master of Ceremonies
in this banquet of un-named desires
When I've had my share
and the music is no longer
the wine non-existent
and the conversation meaningless
then I go back to reality
only to conjure up new feasts and entertainment
the mind's delight
the author's escape
in this world of dying poetry
and forgotten dreams

Call me the mastermind
of this, the rebellion of the souls

sigh. how beautifully haunting this is.

 

Found this image in my pic file, and thought i pasted here. 

Bali has been raining non stop in these past 3 days. I loved how the water drops on the leaves and made it sway. I loved how everything just shiver and how people run to find cover. But most of all I love how it makes everything seems so quiet and serene.  How people stay inside the house, looking outside with their arms folded, and worries on their faces.  Maybe someone they love is stuck in the rain waiting impatiently for it to subside in the bus stop.

I am looking outside myself, in my new house, learning about my new neighbors. The house infront of me painted red with wide windows and black fancy engraved metal fence always manage to make me green with envy.  A family lives there.  These past 3 mornings, I observe them getting ready for the day. The husband always with his briefcase, calm and collected, always wait in the car for 10 minutes before the wive comes out rushing without make up but wearing power suit, talking frantically to the children ( 2 of them, all boys).  The boys, one of them i notice to be the quiet ones, slip in the car without much protest while the other seems to always forget something, and has to at least once comes back inside the house to get something.

My nextdoor neighbour is a guy. A loner i guess, cuz i dont see him much, and whenever he's home (or at least the car is home), the house would be all closed up with curtains all down.  I imagine he's an artist in needs for quiet environment.   Or a guy who has just experienced a lost love and a broken heart, seclude himself up to find that peace of mind. Or a poet, who is in the process of writing his masterpiece. or just merely an antisocial, hateful for anything that resemble a normal  neighbour interaction.  I often wonder what goes on in that house.  It is always quiet.

My other nextdoor neighbour is a couple. No kids. Both works. Both seems to be really indifferent with each other. No goodbye kisses, nor hugs, nor even eye contact. Maybe they were fighting about something.  Maybe the wife wants to have kids right away while the husband does not. (Cuz honey..we cant even afford our own lifestyle.. let alone having a kid..) and that makes the wife feel sad, and that makes them sleep far away from each other at night, and that makes the wife looks at him every morning expresionless just before he gets into the car and zooms off without waving goodbye.

My coffee is getting colder, and I look at my new house.  My room mate has gone to other city again for work and leave all this mess behind for me to clean up.  The kitchen is pretty much done, my room is looking mighty cool, we have installed air condition successfully.  The bathroom only needs the final touch up.  The norwegian paint turned up to be a real beauty and sort of giving this glow whenever i turn on the light.  So i guess im ok with spending lots on paints now.  It is really not bad at all.

I couldnt sleep eversince i move here. The strong smell of paints, the craps that are still lying around, and the new everything are giving me this weird hollow feelings.  Mixed feelings that leave me restless and somehow cold.  I miss the warmth in my old house, and the crappy worn out green painted bathroom door.  I miss the old feelings it has.  The old ghost. (not that it has one, but the house has been there long enuff to store some stories from the past... so surely it has its own "ghost").  Rooms that watched me weaving memories, doors that connected me to laughters and regrets, windows that witnessed my silly romantic adventures. I miss it

I have new house now and have a new way of entering the door which at the end would weave me another moments. Blue painted walls (Norwegian, no less!) and lightings that shoot the walls giving a circling glowing effect. and a new ghost . The one that is still hiding and observing, waiting for me to make memories. 

I have to introduce myself. 

Hello. Im emily. Please make me feel like home.