What's in the bowl?

Oh it's Nando's Cream Soup. Don't ask me why it served in front of me although I didn't ask for single thing because we've paid the bill. Don't ask whose kindhearted heart that sent it. I don't want Lisa and Anya laugh again. I don't know whether I should feel good or bad posting this. I don't feel like drawing attention. But, I feel like just writing it, bluntly, without any flowery-poem-like words, because this is how I feel. Honest and Flattered. Okay, I am sure if Lisa is reading this, she will laugh her ass off.

Anyhow, this week I have so many inspiring things that I discovered, aside from the soup. Mostly, came from what I used to have and done. It is my old writing piece that I submitted for a short-story writing competition and my old wordpress, which you can find it here 

I notice how expressive and honest my writings were. Those writings were from my teenage years, 16-17, when I was subscribing to girls magazines, pay attention to cool music chart, carelessly go to movies and watch all by myself, not to mention, I did fly to Jakarta only to catch Twilight before it was cool. I remembered I did all the things that I love without pressure and worries and I missed it so much. Now, I just feel like outdated, I don't have whatsapp, all I have in mind is about 'find a work, get a company, small company, work permit... or go back to Jakarta, find a place'. I remember a saying from the freaky girl from The Breakfast Club, something I closely remember, "when you grow old, your heart dies."

I see that thing coming and I am not ready yet, to die.

Then, I suggest myself to ask what's bring me to this grief. I notice that I grew this way since I am entering university. You know, university is full of young adults who are being so realistic in their identity-seeking process. All of us are experiencing that, including me and I still am.

I once joined this film club, all Indonesian, and I was serving as a scriptwriter. I noticed how my idea was so different from the others. They assumed, and they made me assume that my idea was kind of mainstream and not indie, as you may have it in modern lingo... not hipster enough. I could see it when they revised my lines. They were like, "(saying the lines) oh this is so sinetron line." Of course, I did feel intimidated. I had my writing skill, I thought it is good and they just thought that it was not good enough. So, I was trying to fit in.

I remember how explosive my writing was before. For example, if I want to describe an event of someone punch the others, I went for the actual scene there are people punching and someone is bleeding. I will express it visually and emotionally. But they wanted me to tone it down, or make it like very smart. Maybe instead of writing the punching scene, I could write something about a vase being broken and smashed by the person who is defeated by the opponent... something artsy, which I am not used to. I tend to express with emotion. Because, I believe that's what script, novel, book are supposed to be, convey emotion, make believe, not to educate people and say something like, "you don't understand my writing, then you are not smart enough..."

However I regretted that I forgot all the colleagues there were not professional, and they were just as amateur as me, but I took what they said and I changed writing into something that I thought to be more mature. Because I thought, well I am not 17 anymore and Twilight is a trash now, so I might need to grow up a bit. And, boy did I grow up from the little girl that I used to.

In a way, I felt good and bad about my current writing. The good thing is I could make story which is more human. I could make stories about love and relationship. I used to make stories about fantasy. But the bad thing is, I wrote emotionless. Plus, I often feel that every time I write, It is not about the creative part and how good I feel later on, It is about to make people read and like my story. An impression. And why would, oh dear, I think like that? Therefore I tend to make stories constructively. Although I can finish 5 pages story within an hour or more, but I seemed like I was just writing for a last minute essay. Again, why did, oh dear, I would do that?

I now understand, that it is no harm to be that 17-years old again. It is no harm that you scream that you freakin love Twilight, it is no harm either to scream that you really love Justin Bieber or One Direction. It is no harm to scream that you love something which everybody thought gay. Just be yourself! That is what I am trying to do right now, to revert back to my old self. Take the good thing, erase the bad habit and improvise. It is good sometimes to go look your past, but not to dwell on it...

I thank those people who says "No" to my writing. I will list them under the guest list on my book launching hehe...

As for the soup just now, that is one thing that drive me away from the grief. I am a girl with many insecurities you can never imagine. Every week I have to shave my body hair. I must apply a cream to heal a burn scar on my calf every night. I like to pinch my acne so that It will leave mark. I feel so fat that I have stop eating fries and take on HerbaLife diet. I have never dated before. My crush had never noticed me and now is dating a friend of mine. I feel like every guy is only gonna fall for perfect Korean girl who can sing dance like SNSD. But I was wrong when the soup was served.

I salute whoever gave me the soup because he is honest. I don't know whether he would be turned off after I wrote something about body hair above hehe... but yeah, that was one of the sweetest moment that is ever happened to me in a very surprising way. That dinner is just like the other time when me and my classmate had casual dinner after class. I wore simple tribal t-shirt with sauce splat mark on it. I didn't wear make up as always and I just used hair-pincher to my hair to make ponytail, not even a single hair band... I looked like a mess, as always. I am speaking honest here, you can always ask my classmate about how I look everyday. I am not trying to sound like an effortless beauty in this case. Because, believe me, even with collective effort of make up and pretty dresses, there are always prettier girls than me, with no doubt.

So, in the end, I would like you all to believe, believe and believe... and being honest about yourself.

P.S : I could not say that I forget it and it did not happen, because it is very memorable and it is happened! Please anyone who were with me at the "soup event", do not refer back to it... or, well okay, I write this post so...


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