a prompt a day keeps insanity away — day 3

'A prompt a day keeps insanity away' is a series of (excerpts from) short stories, written by me, inspired by one incredibly thoughtful act of a stranger during this uncertain time. I may not interpret the prompt the way it was meant to be, so get ready for a huge mess and enjoy reading.

prompt three: no one in this world compares to you. you're the one.

She woke up to the sound of pots and pans clanging, followed by complete silence coming from the kitchen, clearly intentional. 'Oh, he's awake', she thought. Her lover, John, wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed and probably more; his mind ecstatic with the thought of a lazy morning, a simple form of luxury for someone who juggled three jobs to make ends meet in this capitalist society.

She finally dragged herself out of the bed, slowly making her way to the kitchen where the man was busy flipping pancakes. John was very good at making pancakes; always so fluffy, always so perfectly done. 'It was all about the eggs,' he told her the first morning she woke up in his bed. Countless mornings later, though, she still couldn't get it right.

There in the kitchen stood the said man in his 6'2 glory. She hated his tacky 'I❤NY' tee with all her might, but luckily John had this gift of pulling off even the ugliest piece of clothing. His golden locks were tied messily at the top of his head, which was probably one of her most favorite things about him. She had always had a soft spot for man buns, anyway—but nobody pulled a man bun better than Spencer.

Spencer should've been her past, but he was also her first everything, which might explain why she still seemed to be deeply infatuated with his memories years after they separated. Just like John, he was blessed with beauty and an even more beautiful state of mind. So, it wasn't that much of a surprise that he just naturally became the benchmark for all her relationships coming next.

John came to the picture not long after Spencer happened. It took her a good two years before she could replace Spencer's imagery with his existence. She had to convince herself, repeatedly, that John was not some kind of a placebo to fill Spencer's absence during those long, long days without emotional gravity. 

'Let me guess. Blueberry?' She didn't miss the way John slightly jumped in surprise, lips shut tight trying to hold back his giggle. Yes, John giggled like a school girl when he's amused and she swore to God she would never let him live it down.

'Close enough.' He carefully placed those jiggly, puffy pancakes on separate plates, throwing the empty pan to the sink. Yes, he wanted to do this in their very own California king bed, but they both knew the breakfast would've worked just fine without the 'bed' part, anyway. 'It's raspberry. With some lemon 'cause I'm feeling adventurous.'

'Ooh...' she raised what was supposed to be her left eyebrow playfully. She totally regretted shaving her eyebrows to get that clean-cut Instagram look. She took salvation in John's reassurance that she looked fine either way, with or without them. 'Is that supposed to be suggestive or am I putting too much on it?'

'Both.' John managed to steal a kiss or two on her temple, his hands too busy adding some freshly-cut berries and some powdered sugar on top for the final touch. 'This was supposed to be a surprise, you know?' 

Spencer was better with surprises, sort of. He once randomly knocked on her door at 4 in the morning, drove her out of town to an empty beach on a breezy summer day with a picnic set ready on the back seat. It was nobody's birthday. He just felt like she could use a good break after a particularly long, torturous day during her internship.

Spencer was probably too good with surprises, though. He left her with a huge surprise the day he decided to break their picture-perfect college romance. She was young and naive, getting mad at the world once she realized that all this time, she was looking at him through a filter. Of all surprises Spencer ever gave her, she hated the last one the most.

'So... should I go back and pretend this—' she paused as she took a bite from her plate, '—never happened?'

'Nope, you stay here—' he stole a huge bite from her plate, which only got him a playful smack on his sculpted arm in return, and took another bite from his own plate, '—and we're gonna save the 'bed' part for later, how about that?'

Yup. John was indeed the better one.


—end

a prompt a day keeps insanity away — day 2

'A prompt a day keeps insanity away' is a series of (excerpts from) short stories, written by me, inspired by one incredibly thoughtful act of a stranger during this uncertain time. I may not interpret the prompt the way it was meant to be, so get ready for a huge mess and enjoy reading.

prompt two: you can't find happiness. you create it.

I was never ready to meet you.

It was a sunny day when you came into my life. You were a little too late to catch the first bus leaving downtown, a little too early for the next bus going back to your humble little place on the third floor of that Chinese restaurant. I was sitting on the other side of that rusty bench, already fed up with the world because I, too, was supposed to get on that first bus to take my Comparative Politics final—and now I had to wait another year to retake it. Great.

'You major in politics?' was my introduction to your warm, outgoing personality. 'Um, it's okay if you don't wanna talk. I just... I can't really stand silence, you know? And we have, like, uh, ten minutes to kill, so—'

It was a sunny day when you left too. I couldn't remember exactly what you were saying because I was too distracted by the way you gulped so hard every now and then, your voice shaky, trying to arrange your words in the least painful way possible, fighting back those tears from falling. After all, you had always been six feet of tenderness. You were my six feet of tenderness.

I should've been angry. We were supposed to have dinner at Mindy's place, and I wasn't planning to knock at her door with smudged mascara. But I couldn't. If anything, it was my fault and I had no right to be angry. You had all the right to desert me.

I was still not ready to meet you. Not when you looked barely a day older from the last time we met. Not when you still smelled like cedarwood and lemon.

'Seems like you're doing great now.'

I had my name plastered all over the room, yes. I had copies of my book piled on the table, front cover ready to be tainted with my signature, yes. I heard people love Joseph, the main character of the book that was literally a carbon copy of my memories of you, yes. To say that I was doing great, though, was an overgeneralization.

You hated big words too, like, 'overgeneralization'.

'I guess?' I didn't know that I was craving for all the small details of you until I caught myself staring at that tiny little scar on your lower lip. You told people it was from a fight because it sounded cooler that way, but I knew it was from a stupid incident that involved you, a metal ruler, and a boring day in sixth grade. That was how much I knew you. That was how much of you that was seeping into my system.

'Are you happy though?'

Ah, yes. The day we broke up, you told me something about finding happiness. You told me that you shouldn't be the only reason for me to be happy. That was easy to say, knowing that apparently, I was not the only reason for you to be happy. I went to the quietest of all places, lost myself in the loudest of all crowds, and yet I still couldn't find this happiness you were talking about.

'Yeah.'  I lied to you once and it cost me us. I lied to you again and it cost me my own misery.

'Cool.' You brushed your hair back, your hand staying on your head for a little longer than it should, your brows furrowed as if you were having an inner battle to say or not to say whatever you had in mind. 'You know, I don't think Joseph understand what happiness really is.'

'Oh, so now you're playing critic?'

'Nah, this is from a fan's perspective.' You smiled, this time it reached your eyes. 'He's kinda lost. He wants to find happiness, but he looks too far and misses too much.'

'Yeah, that's kind of the point.'

I wished I didn't notice the ring gently wrapping your finger. Of course, you would choose a simple one. You never really liked anything too flashy. You were so self-conscious that one time you wore a printed floral shirt with an accent of tiny birch branches on the back. I wouldn't be surprised if your wedding band looked barely like a wedding band and more like a friendship ring or something.

'Tell Joseph to create his own happiness,' you paused, eyes locking with mine, gaze unreadable, somehow nostalgic, 'unless he wants to write a tragic love story.'

I took a copy from my left, signed the front cover a little bit more carefully than I did the rest. I wasn't just handing you the book. I was handing you my whole life. Maybe it's the best that you were present, so I could give it to you firsthand instead of waiting for you to pick up my love letter from the dusty shelf of an unknown bookstore.

'I will.'


—end

a prompt a day keeps insanity away — day 1

'A prompt a day keeps insanity away' is a series of (excerpts from) short stories, written by me, inspired by one incredibly thoughtful act of a stranger during this uncertain time. I may not interpret the prompt the way it was meant to be, so get ready for a huge mess and enjoy reading.

prompt one: keep your eyes on the skies, and your feet on the ground

'Is there anything wrong?' You casually sipped on your coffee, her eyes set on the warm cup of chai tea, which sounded incredibly stupid to you since chai already translated to tea and she was basically calling her drinks a tea, tea. You knew this wasn't going to end well, so you instinctively reached your back pocket to see if you brought enough cash to pay for her drinks as well.

'Huh? Oh, it's nothing'

It's always nothing, followed by several minutes of uncomfortable silence, her going to the restroom—never coming back—and you paying the bill. Out of a dozen first dates you had been on, two offered to split the bill out of courtesy but you still paid in the end, one actually asked for separate checks, one insisted to pay but you paid for dinner and sent her flowers later on so you guys were even.

None of them were down for a second date, though. Oh, and apparently the girl you sent flowers to was allergic to pollen.

'Hey, uh... I need to go to the bathroom.' She hurriedly stood up from her seat, taking her cellphone on one hand and a tiny black purse on the other. You could never understand why women loved using such an impractical thing that barely served its own purpose, but you knew you had no right to judge when you, yourself, wore hats with hoodies for a morning jog.

'Yeah. Sure.' Your eyes watched her figure walking to the back of the diner, not to be seen again, ever. You had finished your coffee and wondered whether you should finish the stupid chai tea she left behind. Your mind was so occupied with chai you didn't realize someone else was already standing by your table, on her hand a slice of strawberry shortcake plated so meticulously it looked way more expensive than it really was.

'Is she coming back?'

She gently placed the cake on the table, her gaze a mix between judging and sympathizing but not in any way offending you. It was almost like she understood you and your crumbling love saga.

'I don't think so.' You looked up, sighing. Her eyes were blue, like a clear sky with no cloud, warm summer breeze, her scent an ocean. You knew her, sort of. On Sunday mornings when the diner was only a bit busy and your date left you behind, you had seen her serving warm pancakes and hot coffee. She always had her hair tied up, some of her curls graced the sides of her face.

'Tell you what,' she frowned, 'maybe you've been looking up to the skies for too long.'

The last thing you wanted to hear from a stranger, sort of, when your date had just ghosted you was a lecture—like that one time you called your mom and she went, 'maybe you should ask Lana's daughter out instead of going on dates with some gold diggers from Tinder.' But her eyes were so incredibly deep you just let your tongue slipped.

'...and what was that supposed to mean?'

She took a seat in front of you, sliding the poor cup of chai to the side, both hands on the table ready for an argument. Oh, that was new. 'My dad used to tell me to keep my eyes on the skies, and so I did. I kept looking up, looking for things that I couldn't reach.' She paused and quickly glanced at the cake, head tilted to its direction. 'It's on us, by the way.'

'Okay, so I went through a lot of downs and downs there was barely an up. I came to my dad crying and he told me that maybe he should've been clearer with his advice.'

You were so engrossed with her words you barely noticed yourself picking up the tiny fork, mindlessly nibbling on the sweet, sweet strawberry flavor. 'And then, what happened?'

'He said that there's more to it. He said that we should keep our eyes on the skies, but keep our feet on the ground. I failed to do the latter. I had no ground, no gravity to hold me back. I was just... floating. I had nowhere to go but up, but once I was up, I had nowhere to land.' You noticed the old lady, the owner of this place, throwing meaningful, slightly menacing glances at your table. Wouldn't it be rude to ask a young lady to go back to work when she was pouring her heart out like this?

'So, what I'm saying is, maybe... maybe you should find a ground to walk on first, instead of a sky to gaze upon. Once you got your feet on the ground, you'll realize that the sky will always be around, wherever you are.' It took you a good minute to process her words, another good minute trying to come up with something to reply her with, another good minute of staring at those deep, deep blue ocean that was her eyes.

'You're right.' Maybe a ground was what you needed all along.


—end

here's what I've learned after living for 25+1 years

It's kind of crazy to think that I have been walking on this planet, breathing its (polluted) air for the past 25 (plus one) years. It doesn't feel that long, really. I feel like my life hasn't even started, yet statistically speaking I am now one among hundreds of thousands of millennials actively shaping (and desperately trying to change) our current history. It still baffles me how there are people born after the year 2000 who are now hitting their teenage years. It's crazy how things change, and it's even crazier how some things remain the same. So, today, I'm going to reflect on everything that I've experienced for a quarter of a decade in a true agile fashion: a retrospective.

What went wrong

Oh, boy. Where do I even start? Let's begin with my least favorite subject: relationships. Be it a romantic or a platonic one, I think my biggest mistake is to shut people out before they even have the chance to knock on my door. Even if they manage to do so, most of the time I would refuse to open the door. The problem lies in my inability to trust myself to open up to people, which then leads to another problem that is my inability to relate and keep in touch with these people. It's not that I cannot trust people. It is that I have a hard time trusting myself; always contemplating whether showing my true color is the right choice. I think I'm afraid of the implications, but that's exactly why I can't really live my life to the fullest.

Now that I think of it, I think the root of all my problems is this: I'm afraid to take a risk. When I have someone I adore, I'm afraid of telling them how I really feel. I don't want things to change. I don't want to be rejected. I don't want to bring chaos to an existing order. I don't want this person to change the way they think of me. I don't want this person to think that I have mistaken their sincerity for something more than an act of sincerity. I want to be genuine, but at the same time, I feel like I have to act in a certain way to keep myself safe. I feel insecure when I have my feelings all exposed. That's why I choose to lay low and even leave everything untold. I silence my feelings because I'm afraid of what could possibly happen if I let them out.

That's the exact same reason why I can't seem to move on. I stay in my bubbles of illusion and safety. At the same time, I let myself get hurt, knowing too well that I can hurt people more than they can hurt me. I've hurt people probably more than I can even remember, and I'm not risking people's happiness over my selfish state of mind. I know that I can never give back to these people, and that's exactly the reason why I tend to show them the way out before they even know how to get in. I might die single. Everyone dies alone, anyway.

Moving on to an even worse subject: career. I spent a whole year being a burden to my family. I was unable to make my own money, and I had seen the disappointment in people's eyes too many times that I didn't even have to look at them right in the eyes to know that they were boring holes at my useless ass. I was a failure. Still am. I was the textbook definition of what could go wrong with a former bright student, daughter, sister, and friend.

Again, the reason why I fell so hard was my inability to take a risk. I was too scared to face changes in life, the consequences of a choice that could've brought me somewhere completely different from where I am today. I could've been a journalist. I was given the chance twice, but I stepped back before I even started. I could've worked in the hospitality industry, become a trainee at a reputable international hotel chain if it wasn't for the fact that I chose my identity as a person over their mouthwatering offer of success and luxury. I could've done something sooner, though. I could've completed my degree sooner. Perhaps, the world would've been able to offer something even greater.

Then, I finally found a place where I could stand up on my own and secure my place in this unforgiving society, but this place was taken away too soon from the palm of my hand. It was bittersweet, but for some reason, I knew everything was meant to happen the way they happened. Still, I couldn't help but feel that I should've chased something bigger, something higher, something nobler even. Perhaps, that way I didn't have to see the look in people's eyes when I told them that I had no idea what to do with my life. Perhaps, I didn't have to hear all they had to say about how I crushed their expectations to the ground.

I used to promise myself that by the time I turned 25, I would've found myself in a completely different part of the world. That, of course, turned out to be another bullcrap I spat out of innocent expectation of how welcoming the world can potentially be. I was naive. Still am. That might be another reason why I keep walking in a circle while people simply move forward in life. I saw people finally finding their walk of life, actively chasing their purpose, knowing well what they want to achieve and how they would love to be remembered. And here I am, watching my world become less and less like a world and more like a designated space I somehow ended up at.

Enough with the negativity; now it's time for...


What went right

I probably made more terrible choices than I can make a good one, but there were days where I actually changed the course of my life for the better. The day I got out of a toxic relationship (I still think I was the toxic one, even though the other party was the overly-possessive one). The day I chose my faith and identity over a glimpse of success and luxury. Those days I chose my family over people I barely knew. Those days were quite rare, but they happened.

I had to bury many of my dreams, but some of my naive wishes came true. I've always wanted to be an editor. I got a job as a content editor at a small company. It was not the best job, but it was one of the best turning points in my life. It didn't end well, but it brought me to another interesting path of life. I've always wanted to be a writer. When this company closed down, I had two choices: become a localization staff at a game company in Jakarta or become a content writer at a game company in Bandung. Honestly, the latter came way after I rejected the former (honestly one of the best breakup I've ever gone through), but I was so sure that I could secure a place at the latter one. The universe was surely in a good mood the day they answered my prayer.

Unexpectedly, I manage to keep in touch with my dearest college buddies. They are my only close friends, honestly. I wish I could've kept my old friends from middle and high school close the way my college buddies stay with me throughout the years. It's okay; it's a natural selection. They might not even be the same people I recall in my memories. My current job environment helps me open up to people and create a bigger, better social circle, though. At least, I don't feel like running away every time I step into the office. Some people need to learn not to awaken the monster in me, though. For the first time in years, I feel like people actually care about me. Lesson learned: show that you care first.

I learned to compromise with myself. I used to hate my physical vessel with all my might. I couldn't go out not wearing the slightest layer of makeup. Nowadays, I can't even stand the feeling of powder on my face. I completely stopped wearing layers of foundation, BB cream, concealer, powder; you name it. Nowadays, it's just lip cream and I'm done. I'm still not pretty. I'm still not skinny. My face is not flawless. My chest is relatively flat. My butt is not firm. My thighs don't have a gap. My stomach is definitely not flat. I am happy with what I have, though.

I am single. My job doesn't pay that much. My resume is not that impressive. I am still living with my parents (even though most of the days it's just me and dad, in the morning and at night). The thing is: I am happy. I don't need a man to be happy (but it would be nice to have one). I make my own money and manage to save for myself. I am paving my own career,  without any help from anyone or any connection. I am getting there, I swear I can feel it. I just need more time to make it there. My parents are still around and well. My sister is doing well in college. We are still together as if we're glued to each other, even if most of the time we live separately. They're the only people I can actually rely on, and I can say that they can count on me in return.

I learn to love myself and appreciate the smallest things around me.


What to improve

This is a tough one. I am still lacking in so many things. I think I should learn more to excel in my career. I want to be a good, versatile writer. There are so many things to learn, which require hundreds of hours of practice. I hope I can reach the point where I look back and say to myself that 'It's all worth it.' I want to write more. I want to be more articulate. I have a lot to say and I want the world to hear it. To do so, I need to study harder. I love studying, but I hate schools. I hate being in a commitment with a certain institution, so the best I can do is to learn from people around me, to read and write as much as I can.

I need to learn not to freak out when people show their interests in me. I need to learn not to suppress my emotions because most of the time, it fires back at me. I need to learn to say 'no' more. I need to learn to walk the talk. I need to be honest with myself and with the people around me. Plus, it would be nice if I can stop doing things out of courtesy, only to lead people to interpret my goodwill as something completely different, motivated by desire. I should be nice, but not overly friendly. It's funny, though, because I thought I was an introvert who shunned people away daily. Looking back, how many people have misunderstood my good intention? This definitely has to stop.

I need to understand that it's okay to be (not just do) a mistake because only then I can grow into something better. You need to fall before you can rise. Unless you can float or something. It's a privilege only a few can afford. I need to understand that people live their life at a different pace; mine might be a bit slower than others. So, it's pointless to compare your work or even life resume to others' because that's like a fast track to heartbreak and disappointment. Be wise. Be okay with what you have, but under no circumstance should I be stupid. Life is tough, and I have all the right to be wary. I should learn to enjoy it more, though.

Lastly, I need to stop living in my projection of a perfect life and, instead, bring the illusions to life. I should stop dreaming of being a good writer. I got to do something about it. I should stop dreaming of having a good relationship. I got to start creating one. I need to paint my own life instead of waiting for others to give me a pre-existing set of colors to put in the background. This hiding game has to end. It's time to seek. I should probably have my favorite phrase from my favorite person on earth tattooed on my arm. Stop hiding.


Here's to another 25 (plus one) years of living and learning.




note: edited because I am an idiot who can't do simple math

a tra(i)nce state of mind

I like taking a long ride, be it on a train or an airplane, mostly because I feel like I have a purpose, a destination to go to, but I'm not obliged to do anything in between one station and another, between the departure gate of an airport to the arrival gate of another airport. I don't really need to do anything but sit back and relax. Probably read a book or write something like I'm doing right now. Yet, it is not a waste of time. It is what it is, something that I have to go through in order to reach my destination. I am finally, temporarily, free.

Life is nothing like a long ride, though. Between one station and another, you are no longer a passenger. You are the conductor, the pilot. You are the one in charge of the train ride. You are the one who flies this airplane up across the horizon of life. There is no such thing as sit back and relax in this ride. There is no such thing as doing whatever to kill some time. This flight is endless, and you are flying it whether you like it or not.

That is why I always believe that the best time to think is when you are several thousand miles away from the ground, or when you are several hours away from disembarking your train car, while you are moving ahead of all the beautiful pieces of earth on your window and the hums of engines, the clink-clanks of the rails in the background. Nothing really bothers to stop you from letting your mind going wild inside, because eventually this moment of peace will end by the time you land or arrive.

Its only rival is the 2 a.m. thoughts that come up to you every other night, but this one is not as enjoyable as it usually leads to a depressing realization or an emotional rollercoaster as an aftermath. At least, these strangers you share your ride with will keep you in check. It is a good thing because otherwise, just like those sleepless nights, your mind will take over completely and consume the life away from your weirdly-shaped vessel called a body.

To some other people, the ride is the most boring part. To me, it is the best one. No dramas, just hours and hours of sitting and eventual walking, munching and thinking, and probably talking a little bit. That's it. It is simple. It is a job that can be done cleanly, very easily, unless anomalies happen and the whole thing becomes an unbearably endless moment of discomfort. Most of the time, however, I really enjoy it.

To be stuck in the moment, comfortably, might be the front door of a dangerous submission to the train or plane of life, though. The moment you start enjoying it, the moment you lose this game versus the neverending ride.

I think I am in the verge of losing, but honestly, I don't even mind.