the change in a room

when i was a child the change in a room, or its function, always felt like magic. one obvious example would be our family’s old living room when christmas was coming. i would stare at the baubles and fairy lights on our christmas tree as if there were many different little worlds in them. not ones incubated by elves or magical creatures, no. they were more like ours, filled with regular people. and i would be in one of them. i didn’t know what i would do in them but at that time the thought felt nice.

there was this other time when the school organized a sleepover for the students. and we would all sleep in our classrooms. i thought it sounded fun but i guess i didn’t think long enough. early in the afternoon, before the events of what would be one of the worst nights in my life began to roll out, my parents actually asked me to choose whether i go with them to puncak or stay and camp at school. i chose the latter — a stupid, stupid choice. when the teachers turned off the lights, what i thought would be an innocent sleepover — camping, they said — turned into a crazy horror show and our school was the horrible setting. i felt this uncontrollable urge to just go to where my parents were. it was an emotion rather unfamiliar for me. it was rage, abandonment, and painful regret all at once. but in hindsight, it went a little bit beyond that. i felt utterly and thoroughly deceived, both by my teachers and parents. i wanted to show independence and plunged myself right into it. what could a little sleepover at our safe little school do to me. well, nobody fucking told me they would fucking scare the children!

but there was nothing i could do, not even cry. it would be social suicide to cry when you were stuck spending the night with the whole school. in the morning, i was a different person i think. i grew up a bit, into an adult who always try to hold her tears just a bit longer every time. so it was good, eh?

until something finally went bust and leaked.

#Log 34

I went to the dentist at my former university’s medical centre. I was told to eat particular foods and then come back after a few weeks to be x-rayed. I cycled home and decided to take the routes I used to take when I was still a student there. I cruised into and out of a neighborhood – the houses were small, one-storied, painted cream and looked very similar to each other. The roads were wide and quiet.

And I arrived at the business strip, which looked like little Hongkong. My dream self thought to herself that the place had changed so much since the last time she was there. In fact, it looked totally different.

I stepped into a toko kelontong that mostly sold storage boxes and containers. I just browsed lightly and went out. Outside, I saw a textile shop closing.

I rode my bike and went to a different spot of the strip. It was getting dark and the lights and billboard were lighting up. The colours and ambience seemed like something from Miyazaki’s “From Up on Poppy Hill”.

Estranged

in a mall with

 

a mobile phone that is not mine,

its phonebook full with useless numbers,

 

            Moron!           

 

an iPod,

running out of power,

 

Well, let’s just read then.

 

a book,

one that i’ve finished,

 

Oh, why don’t you just polish your writing instead?

 

a laptop,

dead,

 

“Mbak, di sini ada colokan nggak?”

“Maaf, Mbak, nggak ada.”

 

and, worst of all,

a notepad without a pen or pencil.

 

So I braved the cold

At a corner table in a quiet café

With a hot cup of latte

Exploiting whatever the iPod could still play,

Air with “Lost Message”,

Rereading Marquez’s story of sailors who ‘would be dead at the bottom of the sea’,

And writing this down with a pen borrowed from the cashier,

Encased behind glass windows and a display full of pastries and desserts,

Telling a bule, “Silahkan duduk dulu di dalam, Pak.”

 

On top of the display, an artificial Christmas tree modestly stood,

Its lights dimming and brightening slowly,

As though it was too lazy

To pull off yet another

Merry

Lie

 

Looking past it,

From this glacial seating,

I saw girls with bangs and ponytails in skinny jeans and geometric-patterned frocks,

one after another after another.

 

Every one of them seemed to blink along with the lights,

Like splinters of rainbow on a waterfall.

 

And I,

I called the only number I could remember

You picked up and said it was raining where you were

 

I know