My Little White Dress

I found the perfect little white summer dress. Light, crisp, wearable to work. And today I pair it with a small, thin green cardigan, the color of lime. Perfect. The most favorite colors. The most beautiful mood. And it has the comfort level of this:

Welcome, my filigree days.

The hiatus, the stagnant period is over. I’m still treading on water, carefully, gingerly, but I keep walking alright. It’s been a looooong 6 months, but I am ready to move on. The other night, when I was watching Jamie Oliver show on TV, it was like the enlightening moment. When I saw the food, the pictures, I was reminded of all the things that I was passionate about. I had forgotten all those things, to make room for something else. And at that certain moment, I found again what I’ve been missing, without realizing that it had been slipping through my fingers all this time.

Little enlightening moments, that’s all we need to remind us that life is worth living. (Except when you’re too suicidal to think straight, but that’s another matter. Just making use of the good mood.)

So I guess this is a new chapter for me, literally. I don’t like the cliche, but cliches won’t be cliches if they weren’t tested and true. I am ready to embark on my old life that I miss so much, although time-wise I move forward to the unrevealed future. (Oh, let me reconnect with things I once enjoyed, the future can unfurl itself without my tampering. And cliches be damned.) 

Yes, I will be alone. Yes, it is rather daunting. But it will be my life, and I am the one calling the shots.

Who do you trust?

Not a word since then. Translates into not wanting to talk about it. Translates into not talking to anyone. Translates into not wanting to admit my mistakes.

I just want to curl up in bed and shut myself from the world. But I can’t afford it.

“Who do I trust? Me.” – Scarface

Do Not Do This

 

1.     Staring at your phone and willing it to ring.

2.     Checking out Facebook all day.

3.     Checking out a certain someone’s profile, again and again.

4.     Keeping the Yahoo Messenger on all day.

5.     Changing your online status every five minutes.

6.     Not eating all day.

7.     Keeping the coffee pot filled and ready.

8.     Beginning to unravel around dinner time and posting cryptic messages to the ether world.

9.     Finally losing it and texting a certain someone, to one of his many numbers, and getting a not-delivered report (but luckily it is not pending until the phone is turned on).

10. Finally getting tired and closing all applications and Facebook and YM.

11. Finally hitting the sack and turning off the lights and forcing yourself to enter deep sleep.

12. Snapping your eyes open 15 minutes later when a text message comes in in the middle of the night (from one of the many numbers), asking where you have been all day without words. Right before he has to rush off to another call-of-duty.

 

What a staring contest. Who wins? Nobody. 

 

 

The Ugly Beautifuls

“Ugly beautiful”. It’s a term I use to describe men who are not blatantly handsome (like Pierce Brosnan) or have perfectly symmetrical face (like Tom Cruise), but they are definitely HOT in my standards. They usually have that dark, brooding looks; the square manly jaws; and they look even hotter when they’re smoking a cigarette. And if I ever had the chance to meet any of them, they’re the sort of celebrities who will make me blush all over my body.

Clive Owen

I wasn’t impressed the first time I saw him, but Closer got me hooked. He has those somehow transparent eyes that penetrate and search your soul till you give up.

 

Anthony Bourdain

Well, a man who cooks and writes, who is self-deprecating and somehow a snob… I know he looks like he doesn’t care when he does, and he always maintains his cynical, in-your-face image with his sarcastic remarks. But I fell in love the first time I saw him on TV.

 

Gabriel Byrne

I don’t know why, but he always played the devil or the priest/angel. Look at those intense eyes.

 

 

Benicio del Toro

 

Ha. You might say, What, are you nuts? But if you look closely, he could be Brad Pitt’s older brother. Darker, but hotter.

 

Have a good look.

 

There are others who could make the list, but they haven’t got my knees totally buckled.

Gary Sinise

 

William Petersen as Gil Grissom in CSI

 

Daniel Craig

 

They are ALL older guys. Hm. So I guess Bruce Willis makes the list.

Yeah, I love him.

 

When I bet all that I had on you.

Someone bursts into his office and comes up to his desk.

She says, “Okay. Here’s the thing. I’m gonna lay it on the table once and for all.

“I need you. You are the one I need. You have opened my eyes, you have taught me so many things through the years, sometimes without me realizing it. I wouldn’t be myself right now if it weren’t for you. And I still count on you and your guidance until now. I would be just lost without you.

“But you can’t be with me. That I know.

“But that doesn’t make it less devastating. I am miserable, you know. I thought I would be fine—after all, I could still see you hovering on the edges, not going anywhere. But apparently it was just a preliminary reaction. You see, that ‘arrangement’ is not really what I want. I want to be with you. I want to be ‘us’. Now I’m depressed, knowing that you are the one I really want, but I cannot be with you.”

A shrug of shoulders.

“That’s it. That’s the gist. I’m gonna go now, okay. Thanks for listening. I love you.”

Hospital Days are Over

I was discharged a week ago, after spending five nights at Puri Indah Hospital, hooked up to IV tubes. Basically, I was just being chained to bed, so that I could really do the bed-rest my GP had told me to.

My routines:

• flicked my eyes open before dawn when a staff brought in the morning beverage
• finally woke up when a nurse came in to check on my vital signs
• had breakfast
• showered
• waited for morning snacks
• had snacks (and watched dvds or read Agatha Christie’s The Sittaford Mystery)
• waited for lunch
• had lunch
• took a nap
• yay! afternoon snacks
• watched TV
• now dinner!
• TV again
• nodded off to sleep
• (repeat again the next day)

…times 5. Those were the days, my friends. Just taking time off of everything, checking out of work for a while, sleeping and eating at company’s expense. (No wonder I had such an appetite afterwards. Still do.)

I omit the cringing details, like when a nurse changed my IV needle, or when I got puncture marks all over my arms when they couldn’t locate my very, *very* delicate veins.

But when it’s done, it’s done. And I couldn’t wait to get back to work. To my desk. And to my coffee. Oh, yes. Coffee.

(And my caffeine level is increasing steadily.)

I Miss Coffee, I Miss Me

Funny. For a blog named after the most famous drink in the world, the author has not touched coffee for almost two (two!!!) weeks. Yes, yes. It’s like when I discovered ballet flats and had all that flats mania—and I call myself Shoegirl. 

You see, I have been down with this typhoid fever (although I’m not feeling feverish) since two weeks ago and right now the bacteria counts in my blood is still too high for me to eat and drink whatever I want. My physician told me sternly not to eat anything with too much fiber and/or causes gas. Naturally, coffee is one of them.

And it seems that my life is put on hold somehow; I don’t do my routines, I spend waaay lots of time at home (alone!), I sleep almost all the time. So it’s like an extended end-of-year holiday, only it doesn’t feel and taste like holiday. 

Oh, what I would give up for a cup of coffee right now. A steaming mug of kopi tubruk with moka arabika from Aroma… Or maybe a taste of something alcoholic…

I am sick of this staying-at-home, not-feeling-normal, losing-my-routines. I want to get on with life, believe it or not. Sometimes life is boring, too, I realize that, but at least I get something—anything—done.

And I would feel like myself again.

Fare Thee Well

fare thee well my bright star 
i watched your taillights blaze into nothingness 
but you were long gone before i ever got to you 
before you blazed past this address 

and now i think of having loved and having lost 
but never know what it’s like to never love 
who can say what’s better and my heart’s become the cost 
a mere token of a brighter jewel sent from above

fare thee well my bright star 
the vanity of youth the color of your eyes 
and maybe if i’d fanned the blazing fire of your day-to-day 
or if i’d been older i’d been wise

too thick the heat of those long summer evenings 
for a cool evening i began to yearn 
but you could only feed upon the things which feed a fire 
waiting to see if i would burn

fare thee well my bright star 
it was a brief brilliant miracle dive 
that which i looked up to and i clung to for dear life 
had to burn itself up just to make itself alive

and i caught you then in your moment of glory 
your last dramatic scene against a night sky stage 
with a memory so clear that it’s as if you’re still before me 
my once in a lifetime star of an age

so fare thee well my bright star 
last night the tongues of fire circled me around 
and this strange season of pain will come to pass 
when the healing hands of autumn cool me down

 

Fare Thee Well by Indigo Girls.

Two years on. Just singing.

Some Stuff Sweet Dreams are Made of.

Espresso. Dark, potent, rich liquid. Italian coffee bar. The smell of fresh caffe, the smile of the barista. 

 

Venezia. Canals, gondolas. The Bridge of Sigh. Ponte dei Sospiri. Getting lost in the maze. (Photo: Dante)

 

Chet Baker. The haunting trumpet. The soft voice. Little Girl Blue. Embraceable You. Crying myself to sleep.