one of the old buildings from dutch time in Surabaya
Have you ever wondered on why there are certain things that remain in our memories no matter how long it has long past, or certain people we would remember the most and others are just as a glance?
I read a quote from a female poet ( i forgot the name) : You would forget what one said or done to you, but you would never forget how one made you feel.
Maybe because she is a poet and she is a female, we, female poet put out our feelings almost above our mind. We consult to our heart than our head, or maybe just I, who do that.
I recently looked at my friend list in my couchsurfing (http://www.couchsurfing.com/people/teofani), the people i have hosted, which also meant spent so much time with me, hang out, met (short/long) . Each of them drew some memories in my life; some i can mention their name without looking up the list and things we had together, some i only remember when i happened to go thru that list again. Looking way behind those time, i can remember few faces, few names, few events….but i dont think it is the same feeling that i feel now, than it is that time.
So, why those particular faces, those particular moments?
Some people, in the past, begged me : Dont forget about me please! At that moment, i made my words that i wont. I do keep my words, i guess. I dont totally forget about them. If i look behind far enough i will still find them, or sometimes some images would cross in mind and i just stop at wishing that they are all alrite.
I, personally, never quite minded, or rather wish, to be forgotten. But yet, couldn’t bear the feeling to be left behind. And tho it has been a great pleasure to get a short message saying : i thought of you, and hope you are well.
A close friend slapped me on the face (spontaneously and lightly) when i said, ” you will forget about me sooner than you thought” when we bid good bye. I, somehow, dont want to be preserved in one’s mind; knowing i cant promise the same thing.
But some people simply remain and living in my memory wall, i love to have some, not the other, but again, how can we choose? Even throwing the stuffs that remind us of the bad to the junk doesnt banish what had been drawn in our memories.
But then, what i would even dwell on this thing rather than appreciate the un-particular order of our saving mechanism.
I guess by now everyone online has heard about KONY 2012, I have seen it throughout Twitter, on pretty much every YouTube video I have watched recently, all over my Facebook. But I never took the time to look into it. Untill today.
And what I found was a horrific documentary that shocked me to my core.
And it shocked me for two reason;
1) I knew nothing about who Joseph Kony or what he was doing.
2) That this was actually going on in the world.
For those who don’t know, Joseph Kony is the leader of an army moving through Africa, abducting children and forcing them to fight for him, making them kill their families and friends and ruining any chance of a life they had.
This army is called; The Lord’s Resistance Army or “LRA”.
Over the last ten years a charity has been set up called…
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You have those memories of false expectations;
hopes, that you run away from.
But they are following you closer than your shadow,
the heaviness is pressing your chest,
and you are too afraid to turn your head back,
feeling that they are there,
and that you’ll get hurt seeing them.
I cut my heart out, to be sure, that it still bleeds, alive….feels….
I was born in this city in 1978. I left it 18 years later, as a girl who just graduated from Senior High School.
16 years afterward, here i am, having my self come back in this city, as a woman.
Time is a distance that you cant break thru, time is the void you have to fill, time is a supreme wonder. Time gives you what you meant to get, and time takes them back for the reason that you would never understand.
12 years i spent away from “home”, for a better life it was said. I was too naive the first time i left, from a suburban life into a big city one. Everything amazed me. But bit by bit, day by day, comes year by year with everything that took time in my life, from one choice to another, that lead me to one place and another; i have come to this point, to this a state of a self, of a being. And here i am, chose to come back home.
What have changed after such time? a lot. The city gets so so crowded. I just imagined my school mates must have babies and probably still live with their parents, so of course the city is getting stuffed with new growing occupants. But maybe there isn’t much changes beside the city appearance. And i suppose, thats what i am about or expect to find out.
Why come back? so much to say on that. After years, living life on the run; wildly denying, hating, swearing never go back, tho underneath trying to understand and see, to be able to accept whatever took place there, taking as big as possible distance from the city. As i grow in time, the battle has worn out.
Why come back? It had become a long conversation with my close friends, try to reason. I know it simply because they care and love me, as much as i do to them. The answer wont stop at : I want my Mama!
Why? After the last 7 years living my life in Bali, I start seeing the same things over and over, feeling the same feeling, nothing excite me anymore, i need changes. Bali had given me so much more than i thought, but my cup is full of bali. I always try to see things from every perspectives, and i dont have any corner left to see about Bali. I have learnt what i meant to learn in that beautiful island. But i still need to grow.
Going back to Surabaya, getting trapped in polluted gloomy tiring traffic, ugly houses rowing along the ugly brown river, the markets are illuminated with disturbing smell from the river next to it, everything seems old and exhausted here. Went to a computer rental to have my document print, the computers are still the one with 14inch curve monitor, found my self smiling thinking of what a freaking fancy thing i have at home. The Public Coin Phone box, where i used to call my friends to get information on school homework after i escape from class, still stands there. Wonder how those boys i had crush on doing.
But those are the life that i used to know, and i feel real when i am among them. It is all surprisingly alrite for me now. Rewinding the old images of the young me messing around. I want to see how i have changed. I want the girl meet the woman, and see how they get along.