Starting a New Life Abroad

Yeah, I’m dreaming of getting away,
Always lead us to where?
Lose yourself in the steam,
Am I only a dream
Shoot the runner, shoot shoot the runner
I’m a King and she’s my Queen, bitch
[ Shoot The Runner - Kasabian ]

………

Home is where you hang your hat.
I hang my hat at any available rack within my reach.

Home is where the heart is.
My little black heart is torn and scattered in 4 cities and 2 countries

Home is where the hurt is.
I believe time and distance heal, though I know that human memory gets a kick out of backstabbing the owner every once in a while.

Home is often a place of refuge and safety, where worldly cares fade and the things and people that one loves becomes the focus.
Err… what? There’s a hella lot psychobabble in one sentence.

………

Must I list down what I’ve truly missed from my kampoong, I’ll effortlessly come down to two main things: my family and Mom’s cook. I should say that the latter doesn’t hold a high significance, since it’s more like "What you don’t see literally is what you miss" sort of thing.

So yeah, for me, just those two things.
Only family and food.
Nothing more.

Coz friends come and go.
Coz easy, cheap and laid-back living is in the eye of the beholder.
Coz is it just me or the concept of ‘nationality‘ is definitely vaguer than ‘honesty‘?

………

Dorothy sez, "There’s no place like home."

I think the outcomes of a reckless attempt to define homesickness can’t be any more politically incorrect, when the attempter doesn’t even know where his home is. Or worse, when his brain registers the word ‘home‘ with a box full of question marks.

It’s friggin’ Sunday.
Yes!
Joy.

A nice and peaceful weekend, that’s what I need.
It doesn’t matter whether I’m spending it indoor or outdoor.

If I’m bothered to go out, I’m gonna visit the nearest shop to spend on a speaker/dock for my iPod.
I might also want to pop into the cinema to see Kuntilanak.
I kinda like indo new cinema 

If I’m not bothered to be in the crowds, I can just stay in and rot myself in laziness and self-gratification, accompanied by some books and films.
I’ve got several films waiting to be watched: the last few episodes of Rome, Thank You For Smoking, 9 Souls, Take Care Of My Cat and some Indonesian flicks on VCDs, courtesy of a lovely someone who recently had brought them for me.

I watched Ungu Violet last night, Garasi the other day, and Jomblo the previous week. I also tried playing Vina Bilang Cinta but the discs (VCD format) went unrecognised on my usually-read-everything DVD player although they’re original copies. Bloody hell!

Based on what I’ve watched so far (I’ve still got a few other VCDs), I think all Indonesian movies have a BIG potential. Seriously.
A BIG potential to be VERY SHORT in the terms of feature length, that is.

What I mean is… I just don’t get the importance of having prolonged unoriginal and dull scenes of the main characters walking alone on deserted bridges and/or train stations and/or the top of buildings… with crappy music at the background… looking as if they’re having a serious solo moment and contemplating about *gasps* LIFE when they can actually TALK and/or DO SOME REAL THINGS to solve whatever stupid conflicts they have!!!

Then again, if those filmmakers were able to use their brains and decided to cut those redundant shots, I’m sure there were only 5 minutes left of each movie.
Hurrah.

I’m still grateful that I got these Indo VCDs for free but really… that’s just it. Remind me to stick to YouTube the next time I blabber about wanting to see newly released Indonesian motion pictures. Ta very much.

I know I’ve digressed.
I just wanted to point out that smart people know how to make something maximum out of something minimum, whilst the spoilt brats use something maximum to waste it to nothing.
The latter group tend to shamelessly boast more too.

How’s that for some Sunday random rave?

Have a good day.

I haven’t got much to write about, apart from my sincerest thanks for all the lovely wishes, cards and presents. I had a wonderful extra long weekend celebrating my birthday with my friends, all near and far. I’m grateful. Really….lets forget my deepest blue heart.

Some people have spoiled me with some essential original software for my machine, books,homemade Nasi Kuning with its delicious side-dishes, a subscription to pro Flickr account for two years, boxes of chocolate, a bottle of homemade plum wine, and many other things.

Oh yes… I’ve been veeeeery pampered.

I don’t normally compare one birthday gift to the others, but there was a special package that makes my stubborn heart warm and melt in an instant. I unwrapped it just last night. My eyes got wet and my body suddenly longed to hug this person I’ve been constantly missing, although the selfish me is often denying the sentiment. Thank you so much, you. I think it’s the sweetest birthday present I’ve ever received. Every time I look at it, it shows me the most wonderful thing in the world that I’ve frequently taken for granted. Four hours of time difference, and I’m truly missing you in every second we’re apart.

*sobs*

What is it with birthdays and being a temporary soppy bastard???

*sobs*

Give me a sec to compose myself, will ya?