How long?

Abusive relationships - something we read about constantly. And hot on the heels of the recent #metoo and #timesup movements, I feel like I should speak up, albeit slightly too late. Truth is, I’ve debated on whether I should go public with this for fear of the possible backlash, drama, and rumours it might spark. But upon further deliberation, if not now, then when is ever a good time to claim my voice as a woman in this day and age? Especially when the other party is doing all he can to spin ridiculous tales, some as far-fetched as “She threatened to kill herself if I leave her” to his family members. Anything to paint a perfect picture of a nutjob to convince the people on your side to stay on your side, right? Friends would know that I am anything but this person. 

There’s a lot that go into abuse, first being the emotional blackmail.

When you’re backed to a corner, frozen to the point of inaction, fearing that any next move would cause further damage to what’s left of the relationship, silenced from saying much, you’re emotionally blackmailed.

“Bitch, ungrateful, boss-fucker, golddigger”. When, in your efforts to move on, you try to ignore his messages and advances because you recognise the harm they’re causing you, only to be called “selfish” and a slew of other degrading names in return, that’s an emotional and verbal attack.

When he realises he has a power over you and that you would never, ever desert him because your self-confidence has all but been ground into smithereens, then on top of all of it, cheats on you with another person, you’re a fucking emotional hostage.

And it hurts way beyond the physical abuse. Yes, second comes the physical abuse.

Furniture flying across the room.
Your favourite item smashed to bits into the floor.
A punched-in, dented wall in the apartment elevator.
A slap to your face.
A kick in your gut.
Constant shoving to reinstate dominance.

All of the above, checked.

So, what DO you do? Nothing much. “Just move on and move away from him”, right? If only it was as easy. I’ve considered quitting my job because he’s there, sat at meetings collaborating on many projects. I’ve considered moving out of the country to escape anything and everything that has to do with him. Friends say I’m overreacting. If only they knew. So here I am, shedding some light on what I’ve been through the past few years. It’s not easy, and my health and physical being have suffered greatly. I’m free now, but for how long? 

Hidup ini memang palat

Today was overwhelming. Not in a good way. Not particularly in a bad way, either. It’s that uncomfortable, suffocating feeling when there’s too much humidity in the air. A helplessness that washes you over, pulls you under and drowns you. At times it’s unbearable, especially when you realise you’re alone in all of this. 

Tapi like they say, besok masih ada. 

To break your heart first before you crush mine.

How Are You?

"Is everything ok there?"

"Trying to cope. I have my down days and etc." 

*silence*

- 

"How are you doing?" 

"Not good but nobody wants to hear that. Have a good day ahead :)" 

*silence*

Nobody wants to know if you're not okay. They've got their own problems to deal with. You should be expected to deal with your own demons, too.

Best format of reply, for future reference:

"How are you?"
"I'm great :)"

Little Rock, Big Rock

“You’re jaded,” he responded. 

Him and I know everything there had to be known about each other - something that comes with being close friends for an absurd amount of time. Not childhood-friends-long, but long enough. Each up and every down have been divulged to him at our sporadic catch-ups. Sporadic, because we would probably find daily company to our distaste. Sporadic, yet I feel enriched at the end of every meet. 

“I don’t have the words to perfectly put it, but try imagining this,” he struggles to explain to me what he thinks I might be going through. 

“Imagine there’s this tiny piece of…rock. And this is going to sound very stupid, but imagine this tiny rock. And then imagine this big one. Now everyone seems to enjoy this big rock,” he breaks into fits of laughter as soon as he realises the joke. 

“You have been enjoying this big rock, along with everyone for a while now.” Pause. Uncontrollable laughter again. Our ayam masak lemak sits half-touched on the table. 

He takes a sip of sparkling water and continues, “but suddenly you see this tiny rock right next to the big one, and you find that you like it better.” 

“This tiny rock has always been there, remember that. And there are a lot of tiny little pieces of rocks around the big rock and you’re slowly starting to notice them and, well, enjoy them. Take your time.”

Happy birthday to me. 

Happy birthday

Hey Luca,

Been a while, a very long while - since we've talked, and since I've updated this space (it's been more than a year? wtf). It's your birthday today, and if you are still alive (I hope you are), well, Happy Birthday, I miss you.  To be honest, I have so much to say yet I couldn't think of anything to say at all. To say and to think that you would still be reading my blog wouldn't make any sense as even I have abandoned it for more than a year. It's a stretch, but perhaps, maybe, someday, you'll see this.

I don't remember exactly when you decided to vanish, but that wasn't very nice of you, to not say a single goodbye to me at all. You're always in my thoughts, regardless. Have a good one. Have many good ones. And hopefully one day we'll sit down to some Kings of Convenience or Massive Attack and talk. And talk. And never stop. You always have the better stories, anyway.

Love,
Jo.

Well hello

Stuck at work, 2015hrs, rereading everything that's been said and done here and doubting my current self of the capabilities I once never knew I had but only now realise in hindsight. You've come a long way, Jo. Time to start treating yourself like a damn adult. 2014 is turning out to be a tentpole year for maturity, it's not even funny anymore. Good, in a way. Stability is always a good albeit boring thing. Only problem is your reluctance in admitting it. Burning questions of "What if"s and "What for"s make their perplexing rounds every once in a while but no matter, so long as you're still ticking. 

Deaths. Let's talk about it (wow, still morbid I see). No, not so much morbid as curious. Read an article about how, if you fall from immensely high altitudes, you could end up on the ground butt-naked. And obviously dead. What a way to go. 

Leaps and bounds better than this slow, painful one.

-----

Edit: On a roll. 2245hrs. Still at work for no solid reason. Ironic that "words" are what's saving and at the same time killing me right now. So much power in words that we take for granted; use them wisely, kids. Fake them too if they'll make others feel better is what I've been telling the part of me who is still yearning to be a little less selfish. See what I told you regarding the tentpole? Never mind me, running on lunch here. God, I want so much to go home and reward me with some good ol' scrub down and then cuddles. Can't afford the latter however, due a multitude of reasons - lethargy and geography being the two main strains. So this is what we've arrived at, eh? 

Still morbid, indeed.

Mita

My dear Mita, you have no idea what impact you have made on my life. You were one of the few people I was actually moved to be friends with; I simply had to have you in my life, when I saw you back in college. You were smart, so incredibly smart. And that smile of yours, so contagious. Your presence, soft, silent, but reassuring. And to this very day, how we managed to maintain contact is something I'm highly thankful for. I cannot understand how you - no matter how tired or busy you were - could still make yourself available to me when I'm in need of help at work. I cannot understand how we were only just in the company of each other barely two weeks ago, and now you're gone. You didn't have to leave so sudden and soon, you know? More people like me yearn to have a friend like you in their lives. Words can only do so much, for to fit my feelings into sentences is like trying to take a photograph of the colossal galaxy. I can only try my hardest to understand, that things like this just happen. And they can happen at anytime, to anyone. This time, it hit a little too close to my heart. You will be remembered, forever.

Us, 2011

6 Months Later...

I do not know where the urge to put out another post came from but here I am, at another work desk, typing as if my life depended on it. It's amazing, how quite a number of things have occurred and didn't in the past 6 months since the last post. How has it been? Mediocre, according to a perspective; quite thrilling, according to Perspective Two. 

Perspective One insists that there could have been more substance, more...magic. 

"Productivity, you mean," said Perspective Two. "Which you did achieve, to some level. You put out two songs - one went viral, released a music video, played a handful of shows, and you quit your job then took on Cambodia. Celebrated your birthday, got back on radio for 4 weeks, chilled out for 3 months and threw all cares to the winds. I'd say that was quite something. Now, you're two months back in on a desk job and you don't really have much to complain about. So, shut up, One!" 

"But a lot of bigger things could have taken place! You were so, very lazy," said Perspective One, always careful, sensible, dissatisfied. 

Perspectives, arguing it all out, all the time. Some fights can be rather entertaining, particularly as the numbers grow. I remember playing witness to the time when Perspectives Two, Six, and Seven had a go at each other...what an interesting day that was. 

I never meant for this post to go in this warped out direction about the perspectives but that's the thing about freewriting, you just let your mind lead your fingers where it wants to go. Sort of like how someone charges up to you as you were having a cup of coffee and exclaims in your face, "You have to listen to this! Hand me your phone, let me search it for you. I believe this can really inspire you!"

   

And he didn't even know me, really, really know me. Flattering, in a way. Sometimes it feels good to just let things happen on their own accord. We all know, deep down inside that most things naturally fall into and out of place by themselves and for some of these instances, it's nice.

Bibelot

And again we shall attempt to churn out a post out of boredom. Senseless ennui, as I always like to call it.

Today gripped me in confusing ways. I am calm, despite the blow that was the 23rd of January, yet I am bored. The earphones are starting to feel like they're a part of my head, and the sounds that come from them, though not as good as what good speakers are capable of, are not moving me at all. I know not anymore what is a good song and what is not, not with these earphones. A dissolution from over-saturation. Try doing what I've been doing at this table for the past 3 months and you'll probably end up here too.

Hello. Was the journey as sluggish and dreary as mine?

Oh, writing. Drama. Exaggeration without an intention to do so nor knowing why we do so. Of course none of it really matters. In fact, matters like this post on this blog do not matter at all, for I am my one and only audience. Yet I put this out. Why?

Because it is more convenient to type and erase and add and subtract. And seeing that I can't have anything close to a proper conversation these days due to the absence of mortal company/ beating-heart presence, the urge for any form of closure has to be appeased and made manifest here. Please note that I now admit to possible incoherence in my sentences. 

Foreseen, a particular natural query that others are apt to question upon arrival at such posts - precarious, dangerous, personal,  quite inappropriate, and redundant. Why? Regardless of subjective opinions put forth by varying individuals, I personally think that the only justification to my behaviour is aided by my certain propensity to the idea of this outward spewing of nonverbals - whether it is making sense, substantial, and agreeable, or not - to the vast unknown of viable knowns and unknowns. Doing so builds and even accentuates an unmistakable yet discreet sense of inner, unvoiced satisfaction and fulfillment of detachment. Not very unlike allowing the masses to read up on your memoir. Again, I'd like to emphasize that although varying (subjective) opinions/judgments are freely formed and stubbornly stood by, it is, however, profoundly recommended that said opinions and the like be set aside prior to engagement of action (reading). 

And yeah, because you want it out in the open instead of stashed in one of the many notebooks you've bought in your muddled past, and ultimately forgotten in the dust of time, right? There I go again, writing. Drama. Exaggerated drama in writing. Where's that moleskine that's still devoid of content, anyway? Remind me to go home and find it. But do we have time?

Time has lately been cruelly divided into portions uneven and ridiculous for me. I spend a total of up to 4 hours sitting in a crawl on a highway amongst other people sitting in the same crawl on the same highway, every day. And in between that, I sit on a chair at a table with little to no work to do, every day. Then, I am left with the final few hours of the weekdays for things I need more time to do but the productivity in these final few hours will never be fully harnessed, not after dealing with all the demotivation from the stagnant, major prior portion of time spent sitting down not being able to do anything else unless it is work-related. See how it is all so unfair?

Stop.

Look up and around. Inhale with your eyes the fluorescent lights that fill up the space around you and then close them, your eyes. Now open. It's 4.30PM. You have one more hour. You now have a choice to continue stringing together notions in the form of weak sentences, or to venture further into the depths of the internet in search of another entertainment armed well enough to kill off an hour.

Come, let's google conspiracy theories.