An early, premature promise, trying to assure that things are not going to be the same. That it is going to be different. To be better. That it is no longer something that is temporary, but something that is built to last. And then, a flood of sweet words that can make my brain diabetic…

Once, twice… maybe because I was stupid, three times, I believed those words. I believed all the things said, and all the promises made. I believed that magic could happen, and change the world into a nicer place to me. Of course it didn’t happen. It never happened. Never. Not to me.

I am not trying to play victim here, but my point is, I heard too many promises, I started to become very… very skeptical about all those things. I started to believe that words are the cheapest things you can give to someone. The ugly truth is, maybe I was that cheap that I could be bought with words.

“It is going to be different this time,” she said. And I just laughed at her.

What is going to be different? How this relationship would be different from the previous ones? You didn’t even realise what was wrong with the pas failures. You didn’t even learn. And worse, you use the ‘magic words’ that you thought was an excuse for everything, “this is who I am”. A sign that you’re not open to change yourself.

How could you expect things to change, if you don’t want to change? How could you expect things to be different if you stay the same?

After few minutes, i just realised I was being so cynical to her. And I knew that it wasn’t about her anymore. It’s about me. It’s me who couldn’t stand listening to those kind of things.

I’ve heard so many times before, that things are going to be different. That tomorrow is a better day. That the sun comes out tomorrow (and some high pitched girls sang about it telling me that she bet a bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun. Of course there’ll be sun, however she didn’t say that there might be cloud and rain too -_-”). All those promises.

I hate promises.

I hate people giving me promises and break it like an insurance guy who sold and runaway after the contract was signed.  I hate when people asked me to trust them but in the end they just broke it.

“Don’t promise me anything,” I said one day. And they didn’t listen.

Coming from the country where the sun shines all year round, shouldn’t I get used to the heat? No I am not. Of course not. Where I lived almost every houses are air conditioned. The cars are air conditioned. The malls are mother fuckingly air conditioned, and you can experience autumn inside that goddamn mall. So, have you ever heard me complaining about the cold here? Nope. I am complaining about the heat.

But Summer is coming, and anyone who started to make a “500 days of summer” joke on me would taste a bit of Mel’s Punch, how does that sound? Sound like PMS, I guess.

Anyways, the heat is killing me. Not only it made me tired all the time, it made my PMS worse. Of course at the more positive point of view, it is fun because I can wear clothes that I’d love to wear, which means no more big jacket, thick coat and scarves. But WTF the sweating isn’t fun! The make up can’t stick long enough, and it feels sticky even after you take shower.

But…

Summer reminds me of the beach. >_< and how fun it was when I went to the beach. Even if I browsed for picture for “summer” it came back with a lot of beaches picture.

Hell… I don’t know how long summer will last. Maybe if I had time I would go to the beach again. Instead of complaining about the possibility of getting a heat stroke, I might just enjoy everything that I can get in summer before the fall come again.

Sundress, Sunglasses, Strappy sandals, Strawberry daiquiri, Sea, Sand, Sun, Solo travelling, Sex. Summer.

I should say…

And that’s what happened to me.

As a result, there’s the morning after experience called Hangover. It’s the feeling of severe pounding in your head, sometimes with a little nausea, and your body felt like it’s been beaten by The Rock. I still have bruises in my hand and I don’t know where it came from. It’s bad. Sometimes it’s really bad.

However, somehow, lately I felt responsible to my body. After being high as fuck and killing some of my weak brain cells, I need to treat myself better, don’t I? I mean, after my brain and my liver worked hard to give me those pleasure, i should at least give something in return. Like good food in the morning, or treating myself like Princess to make everything feel better. Don’t I?

So, this morning, after sleeping 2 hours longer than usual (which was one of how I treated myself like a lazy princess), I made myself a very healthy breakfast. A salad: mushroom, tomato, lettuce, sweetcorn, carrot, and chicken breast. Hell yeah chicken breast.

I am always chose thigh over breast. As dirty as it sounds, it’s apparently applicable to any aspects in my life. However, I shall make a little bit of exception, since I had this target with Momo, to lose 12 kilograms before the end of this year, and I need few kilograms of weight lose before I go home this mid June.

So, let me enjoy my hangover today, and Happy Sunday everybody…

Basically, I just couldn’t be nice.

But hey! How can I be nice to someone who whine about little things while I had to deal with my own life? I can assure you that my life is no less suck than any other miserable beings who came to me to complain about their unfortunate life. How can I sympathise with these people while they came back to me with same things over and over again, after I kindly gave them suggestions how to solve that shit?

I am not a patience person, and I knew it. I tried to change, and I made it! For few months.

The first few months being here, I didn’t have too many close friends, which is understandable. And I can say that it might be the most peaceful few months in my life. No one came to me to whine, or asking for suggestion, or cling to me like leech. Denise and I have the same friendship style; close enough to know, but not that fucking close. I’m glad she’s not that clingy girly mate. Seriously.

But then came these girls. I never really get along with girls. There only few that I can get along well with, and those girls are usually have some kind of emotional distance from me. These new girl friends… oh dear. They cling, they suffocate, they just couldn’t be alone. Or leave me alone.

They are a type of person who call, instead of text. And I hate talking on phone. And they took it personally when I told them to text instead of calling. What the fuck?

And then it started again. The long elaborated whining talk about how life treated them badly. How they couldn’t get a boyfriend. A boyfriend! How they want a friend who understand them.

One question I never got the answer from the start. Why me?

Why me?

So I lost it few days ago. One of these girls messaged me on facebook after a month vacation. And when I asked her how’s she, she bitterly answered that she was fine apart from being forgotten and abandoned by the world. What the fuck, Girl? You came to me to say that?

Then I snapped, and replied to her, “well good luck attracting the world’s attention with such a negative attitude”. Enough is enough, isn’t it? So let’s see if she’s gonna come to me and whine again. I’ll smash her last bit of confidence, and crush it like mashed potato.

For my thesis I wrote about my hometown, Solo. I analysed its Cultural Marketing process which was so close and personal for me. I witnessed the progress of my hometown, and had a first hand experience of whatever happened there. No matter how boring the process of writing the theoretical framework, no matter how slow the revising progress, talking about something that you can relate to is so much easier than talking about something that is still alien for you.

I might not get the best score for my thesis. I don’t want to blame y supervisor because I should have known better about my topic, and shouldn’t have given in to his opinion. I know that if I was being persistent I might have been able to get better score. No regrets, though. I think I’ve done my best.

Therefore, for my dissertation I wanted to write about something that close to my culture, and something that I love to do.

My initial idea was to analyse the usage of internet meme, such as those we can easily found in 9gag. But, after several supervising, the idea was getting more focused on one interesting meme, about Asian parenting. Tiger Mom.

The terminology “Tiger Mother” was popularised by a Chinese American mother, Amy Chua. She wrote a book titled ‘Battle Hymn of The Tiger Mother’, which describe the Chinese American parenting style, in a satirical way. However, many readers couldn’t get the idea of self parody that Chua claimed in many of her interviews, and the strict Asian parenting style became a media blow up.

One funny thing that I found from the research was that in China, this kind of parenting style is something normal. I believe many Asian kids also found that this is not something that need to be blown up. The attitude towards this ‘Tiger Mother’ thingies has changed after the blow up.

This topic is personal for me, because I am a product of a ‘Tiger Mother’ parenting style myself. I remember the nights when my mother sat on the dining table with me practicing math. She refused to believe that I suck at math. And she held up this beliefs until I graduated High School and still suck at it.

The reason why I chose this topic in particular, is not as a silent protest to my mother’s parenting style. It is as simple as how I can relate to this topic and it is interesting to talk about a culture that I know so well. It is personal. And I will take it very personally.

Firstly, I am now in the middle of writing my dissertation. For those who’s already familiar with my thesis writing story about a year ago, you know I might talk more about the topic I am writing about and anything that is going on during the writing process. It hasn’t been a smooth process so far, since I am a little bit distracted with few things in my life. I hope it wouldn’t be too long because now since I have my blog back, I can get my head cool.

As you know I developed a new interest in cooking since I came to this country. Well, I lost it for awhile when the kitchen fiasco happened over and over again and it became really filthy. Now I changed my point of view a little. Eating the microwavable food is not too good for me. Of course it is enough to keep me full, and sometimes it tasted fine, but then the weight issue became the other problem of mine. Now cooking is not only something that I like, or something as an outlet of my creativity, or something that keep me happy, but also a way for me to control how many calories intake, how many carbohydrate and fat that I take a day. No, I am not turned into a health freak, but being conscious about what I eat is not a bad thing, I guess… And, I might want to talk about this too, in the future.

Something that I cooked few days ago

I also remember the last entry before this blog went on maintenance was some… well… according to Soe, romance. I am gladly say that I am now in a relationship again. Things weren’t as smooth as I wanted it to be, but I think there are some things that need to be adjusted. Given a fact that there are some differences in cultural background, sometimes the thought of the possibilities that this relationship might not work terrifies me a lot. I might post a little about this too.

Other stuffs, some of my friends are going to get married in June. So, I might go back to Indonesia for a while. However, I am not sure that the timing is good. There are a lot to be done here.

I’d like to thank my #bloggerngalam friends who helped me with the transfer and migration. I am so sorry that I bugged you and kept asking about my blog >_< To McXoem who’ve been so patient with my blog, which for several months has been too much in trouble, and the head of #bloggerngalam community, Haqqi who give his time on his busy life to make this blog up again. Thank you very much.

As I promised I tweeted some pictures of places I went to with #bloggerngalam’s official pin to show my gratitude. I will post some pictures that I have tweeted. The first one is the picture of ‘Singadinata’ at Arsenal Football Stadium, and the second one is the picture of the guard changing ceremony at Buckingham Palace.

And I might regret it one day.

But I just could not take this anymore. Seriously. I might probably dead if I have to hold this any longer.

So…

Forgive me if what I am going to write today would be as cheesy as… well, I am going to write Twilight, but I really hope that my entry today wouldn’t be as rubbish as that.

I got a date.

Do you remember the days when we were younger? Let’s say, high school? When all noobiness are acceptable, and dating is just a word we are all clueless about. Remember the teenage movies, the cheesy romantic drama on the film and how the girl and the guy in the film being so nervous and awkward and all we did, as the audiences did were thinking how stupid they were. Like, come on!! There’s an obvious clue. Come on! You missed the bloody moment!!

And yet the best moment came in the end as the perfect closure. Classic. If not cliche.

Remember when you grow up you started to think that such things are not happening in the real world. You started to believe that in the real world, when you grow older, you won’t act like when you’re teenagers anymore. That’s what I believed. That’s what I knew.  That’s what I usually did.

Being twenty something, I didn’t expect myself to be all excited and all nervous about a date. Even a first, potential date. But the minute… no, the second I saw him I just shut like a clam. I turned noob.

Man, I am usually good at this.

Of course before 20 I was a noob. But I am talking after 20, when for me dating is no longer a big stuff. When I can go with people casually, and not letting the nervousness gets in the way. I can talk for hours and make good impression and made people say, “when will I see you again?”

I can be funny. I can be serious. I can be cool or cute. I can be everything.

Not a clam.

Alright… the fact that both of us enjoyed that nervousness (while at the same time being nervous), and enjoyed each other company, made me feel so much better. The fact that he still wanted to see me again after yesterday, made me so much better.

He is a, well, maybe I am just speaking too soon, or too much, but i don’t really care for now because this is what i am feeling now…. where was I? Oh… he is… *damn scumbag brain!* *back again* he is… *blush*

He is… a nice, polite, smart, funny… not mention cute and well, maybe one of the English that I can easily understand when he was speaking. I mean I can understand my lecturer as well, but it was because he was talking at the academic environment. Let’s say that with him, I don’t have to “huh?” and “sorry?” too much…

For some of my friends, when I told this, they said it was cute. I mean, all the awkwardness and stuff. Well, it is cute if I am the outsider. Being in that situation I feel really dumb. But, there’s always the best part in a great date (hell yeah it was by definition a great date).

In the end of our date… we were talking about piercings. I said to him once that  I was curious about how it feels to kiss someone with lip or tongue piercing. He has one, and he told me that he has been thinking about that. I know! I know! It’s obvious sign isn’t it? But we both… or at least I was too slow to understand what he was trying to say!! Forgive me about that! However, failing to conveyed his meaning, he finally told me that he wanted to ask me something, that he thought might be inappropriate for a first date.

Ah! Yes I just got that. (yes i was slow! happy?!!)

I told him *blush* *damn* *blush* that it might be appropriate.

And oh that moment was priceless. LOL. Seriously.

You would never guess that we were two adults who have been dating many times before. You would see two stupid junior high school, both waiting for a first kiss…

Which was great.

It was EPIC.

I can still feel the butterfly in my tummy.

I can still remember every second and enjoying it. I can still feel the goosebumps… and I remembered how I wanted more.

But that moment was perfect. GOSH.

.

*climb up a boat and shout out loud* I am the (noob) queen of the world!!!

The original version of Don’t Look Back In Anger was also sung by Noel Gallagher, so if you ask this one there’s nothing new in this song actually >_<

But apparently this is the favorite among voters… two voters actually lol…

enjoy

Anyway, where should I start?

Ah… I think it’s time to actually tell you the story how I met your father Noel Gallagher, isn’t it?

Just like the day before, excitement made me a little bit crazy. Because I remember how crazy it was when we watched Coldplay for my birthday, I didn’t want the same thing happened again. And because I want to stand as close as possible to my god, so I came earlier.

A little bit too early I guess.

Yes, three hours before the door opened.

Come on, you can’t blame me for being too eager. It’s not just anyone. This is Noel Gallagher, the God himself.

But, bugger! It was too cold outside and smoking didn’t really help because I skipped lunch and didn’t have anything hot to drink. Standing there outdoor was killing me. So I left for a while to grab a cup of coffee. Imagine that. No eat. Drink coffee. I was trying to kill myself, don’t you think?

When I was back to the place I left before, there are some people are queuing. I asked one of them if they’re queuing for the door. The girl there said they were waiting on the backdoor for Noel Gallagher to come. Excited to that notion, I just queued along with them. And yes, we weren’t waiting in vain, because about an hour later he actually came.

Don’t ask me what I did. I was totally starstruck. I took some pictures. Bad ones. And didn’t even think of asking him signing my bra! I didn’t even ask him for a kiss. Stupid stupid stupid.

Should go to another concert so I can get what i want.

While I was waiting I actually talk to three persons. One mother with her son. Lucky lad! If my mother brought me to the rock concert for the Valentine’s Day, it would be the lifetime experience you could tell to all your friends. And a platinum blonde pretty girl who smoked more than I did.

The door opened. The concert begun. Yes, I got the perfect place to see him and took pictures of him. Of course some of you already saw them on my facebook or my profile pictures. No worries, I will put one here too. But, you can choose which video you want to see

Do you want those from his new solo album? Or you want the old Oasis classics? I can give you some options:

a. stranded in the wrong beach

b. broken arrow

c. don’t look back in anger

d. supersonic

Remember. Your choice will decide which video which would be posted here