GUESS WHAT

You can probably guess from the title, but I am really, REALLY EXCITED.

TOMORROW IS THE DAY!!

The day I set off for SAN FRANSISCO! I'm visiting my bro who started college there back in August and I'm staying there for the rest of the holiday. I can't wait to finally set foot in the States and this whole thing is just sort of a momentous occasion as it represents so many firsts.

First time I'm visiting America. First time I'm travelling beyond Asia. First time I'm gonna drastically switch timezones AND my first experience on an 16-hour flight (well technically it's split 5 and 11 hour flights). The longest flight I've been on is about 3 hours and I just hope my body doesn't crash (especially since I tend to get Travel Sniffles).

But don't worry, I shall maximise my time there. I'm planning on keeping in shape (somehow) and writing/drawing, anything to get my creative juices flowing. I managed to finish all my homework in one day yesterday, so that means I AM FREE. AND PUMPED. AND SO EXCITED.

... And should probably go to sleep. Haha.

Expect tons of updates soon :D

--Karin Novelia, READY TO FLY

Picking Things Up

It's been nearly a week into December and well, as far as I'm concerned, 2013 can go ahead and end itself already.

I'm a bit desperate for a fresh start.

But I suppose I will have to take advantage of my break and use this reprieve to gather my wits about me.

Pick up where I left off... in a sense.

And one thing I really need to pick up on is my one and only love: writing. I haven't picked up a pen in ages (proverbial or otherwise) and, as you can probably tell in previous post, leaving the muscle unflexed for awhile has made it a bit... dull.

Don't worry, I think I've found the perfect (albeit radical) solution: fanfiction.

So expect something soon, dear readers.

--Karin Novelia, Picking Up Some Pen and Paper

A Dusty Hello

I've always felt... divided all these years. Out of sync, as a person.

 

It's like physically, I was in one place, my heart in another and my mind, my imagination were somewhere else entirely.

 

But now I am actually, like, literally divided. I study and stay in Singapore now, and have to spend my holidays back home in Indonesia. And it feels weird, being unable to stay in one place without thinking about the other. It's like living two separate lives.

 

That's an interesting way of putting it. "Separate".

 

Have you gone -- returned -- to a place you were fond of or met up with someone who you haven't seen in ages? And don't you ever feel like in that moment, it's like two parts of you seem to collide in a cataclysmic crash? The new you and the old you.

 

I found myself in a weird situation. I went back to my alma mater on Friday to chat with the Principal and for once I didn't even try to avoid the place. Too many memories, I would justify to myself. But I found myself walking through those halls, through that field and I just felt so damned overwhelmed.

 

Then came the scary thought.

 

God I wished I stayed.

 

I pause. I allow the taught to linger and sink in. Then I panic. I feel scared but mostly confused.

 

This was the first time I ever felt like coming back to my... old (?) life. But my continuing interactions with this so called old life made me understand why.

 

Right after this stint at my old school, I went to an dear friend's sweet seventeen party. Sweet seventeens in Indonesia are kind of a big deal. It's like a huge coming-of-age moment where you are now legal, you can get your Citizen's ID, drive even vote. And for girls, right, it's usually marked by this fancy party that you throw lots of money on. The works, like a rented out hotel ballroom, a buffet, you hire celebrity MCs and performers. It's crazy. And I was about to attend my first one.

 

But this experience was a bit more... grounding than the school one. I found myself in a room with people who I was familiar with but who I also felt like I didn't know at all. I know their names, their faces. Some have changed, some stayed pretty much the same. They were few faces too, new people who I didn't happen to have the chance of meeting, reminders that everyone else had gotten on with their lives while I was gone.

 

And worst of all, my best friend was in the center of it all. Gorgeous, more beautiful than I've ever seen her before. But she's grown, she's matured. She outgrew her awkwardness and she was stunning, smiling the whole night. Happy, but I feel so detached from it all, so detached from her.

 

I suck at keeping in touch. Especially with the people who remind me of who I was, simply because, well I don't really want to.

 

The heaviness of the night was quickly remedied by the best part of these parties: a dance 'till drop sort of deal, complete with DJ and all. Imagine dimmed lights, colorful glow sticks and the kinds of flickering lights they use for those freeze frame effects.

 

It was... amazing. To lose yourself, even for just a little bit on the dance floor. Letting everything out, moving like there's no tomorrow, singing at the top of your lungs. The thrill, the sweat, the heat. It was the best kind of high.

 

But then the night was over and my thoughts seemed to settle.

 

I realized I was mistaken. I didn't and probably will never wish I had stayed. What I wanted was to come back. And though that was a bit more confusing, I came to the understanding that as much as I have fault with my old life, it had so much potential to be so good.

 

But not then. Not when I was who I was.

 

With me, now? That's a different story. I'm different. I'm better, and it feels like such a wasted opportunity, experiencing my old life as the new me.

 

I've always but who I am in question. When I think I've found the answer, all I end up with are these Paper Girls. These facades, these personas. I can't tell if they're the real me. And the more I eliminate them, the list of who I really am is getting uglier by the second.

 

Maybe I'm a much more horrible person than I will ever care to admit.

 

But I refuse to believe that's all I am. I believe that I'm not so much finding myself but more defining. And it hasn't been easy, trying to find the better version of me who is truly the best.

 

It's December, and as I usher in this final month of what has been a bang up year, I've decided to really try and rediscover myself. Reintroduce myself, to the world, if you will.

 

And so as I stop running away from my past, running away from me, really, it's like picking up where I left of, the person I left behind, left to rot on a shelf... here's to dusting it off, here's to wiping away all the dirt.

 

And here's to reintroducing myself to world, with an rusted, awkward and dusty...

 

... Hello.

 

--Karin Novelia, Out to Define Herself

 

A Few Rules on Getting By: A Series

Rule no. 1: Don't ever get attached.

... I'm kidding. Do get attached. Attach yourself to a place, a song, a picture, anything, even people. This might seem like a desperate, existential grab for a mark to leave before your gone, but remember that one day you will be gone. And by then, you'll be glad you attached yourself to this world. You won't be in it for long.

Thoughts. (Entry #1)

I guess this shall be the first of many entries. Remember that "Learning Journal" I mentioned a few posts back? Well, I couldn't really think of a good name for it. So I shall just title these posts, Thoughts. which is beautiful enough a name in its simplicity, because essentially that's what these are, just my thoughts; opinionated, uncensored, raw.

 

I've done a lot of digesting this morning, and yesterday morning as well, mostly on current affairs.

 

The whole Syria issue is interesting to follow. Tensions have been high regarding the US' decision for a military strike. I've looked at the 'graphic' footage of the gas attacks in Damascus (though honestly it wasn't that bad -- though perhaps the actual graphic footage isn't so easy to find) and it was disturbing to see the effects of a chemical attack. I saw Obama's national address on the matter (it might be just me, but he seems considerably thinner since I last saw him speak -- then again, being POTUS must not be an easy job) and it was nice to see how much of the people's concerns he took into consideration. His decision to pursue a more diplomatic path, i.e. not resort to military intervention, was a good call in my book.

 

A new Van Gogh painting has been authenticated. I'm really glad to see people appreciate his work (though it's sad to think he's not still around to see it). I'm a bit self-conscious whenever anyone mentions him, because naturally I say I like him, but then I feel pretentious. My fascination with Vincent van Gogh and his work stems from the episode they did on him in Doctor Who, which though was based on his actual life, is still fiction. And it was great way to be introduced as it made me relate and attach myself to him on an emotional level. But from a factual perspective, it probably wasn't the best springboard. I would love more than anything to learn more about his life and perhaps see his works in person, but for now, I will respectfully say that my knowledge on Van Gogh is narrow and limited.

 

September 11, otherwise known as 9/11, has been a significantly remembered date since the event that occurred in 2001. At the risk of sounding very unsympathetic, it has been 12 years after 9/11 and I fail to see why the US feels the need to go to such extravagant lengths to commemorate it. Granted, when 9/11 I was 4-5 years old and had no idea that such a tragedy was even happening so perhaps it's not my place to say. But when you go as far as reading out the names of the 2000+ victims lost to the terrorist attack, it seems a bit much doesn't it? I do believe that what happened was a tragedy, but they are better ways to remember them, better ways to mourn. Especially for those who actually lost someone in the attack, shouldn't their remembrance be something personal? 12 years on, people all still haunted by 9/11, which to an extent is understandable. But when I discover stories of discrimination (against Muslims, people of Arabic descent) still being strongly present then maybe it's time to move on, not completely forget what happened but to at least move forward to a world that's all the more better for it.

 

I realize I have this tendency to zero in on news regarding Indonesia and the Philippines, and to be honest, Singapore news especially regarding the government, policies and public figures. I do think that the Singapore government has gotten their things in order but as I'm not an actual citizen of this pretty cool country, I might be a little blind to the downfalls. Again, not to make my identity crisis syndrome act up, but I think that one reason why I am quite a fan of Singapore (well, most of it, definitely NOT it's education system) is that I've been subjected to the negative torrent of criticism and lack of propriety shown by the Indonesian government and to see Singapore be somewhat well-governed is damn refreshing. I do however, place a lot of hope and optimism upon the land of my forefathers, and though I may not feel emotionally attached to Indonesia, it's good sides, such as it's tradition and culture, is apparent even to me. I even have both the Indonesian and Singaporean flags, which I obtained from their Independence day celebrations (which are just a week between each other), mounted on my wall. (If only I could get a Philippines one somehow). And I guess it serves as a good reminder of the diverse, rolling stone life I lead.

 

Anywaysbacktothenews.

 

Indonesia is gearing up for the 2014 general elections and of course, it's never to early to speculate who will find themselves in the presidential hot seat. It was interesting to see the name Joko Widodo and it actually sounds like a good idea to me. Joko Widodo is quite young for a politician and is currently serving as governor of the nation's capital, Jakarta. He has been making decent progress so far. He's pushing for the railway system to finally see the light of day, he's been cleaning up the streets. And it's refreshing to see new blood try to (hopefully) revamp the corrupt government. There's been some criticism to the very notion of this. Some believe that Jokowi has yet to prove himself, but let me remind you that he's had 5 years experience under his belt from running Solo, and for those who say he isn't even done with 'fixing' Jakarta, any plans for the capital will surely be more effectively run in the president's seat, because if there's one thing the Indonesian government is good at it is at not being able to coordinate.

 

Philippines has been hit by rebel attacks in some villages, and though I'm not completely sure why, I hope that they manage to resolve the problem peacefully, before any more innocent people are hurt.

 

Following Singapore headlines has inexplicably introduced me to what's happened with the IOC (International Olympics Committee). Tokyo has managed to secure its bid as the 2020 Olympics host (yay for Japan!!) and they've just elected Mr Bach as its new head. Now, the elections was especially fascinating as I realize that Asians got some power, man. Ng Ser Miang, a Singaporean, was a strong candidate during voting and seeing what he's done such as introducing the Youth Olympic Games in Singapore a few years back (if I'm not mistaken. I was sadly unable to follow and be more involved in the Games, though I was very supportive of this initiative). It's nice to know that someone is so invested in the youths of today, and also nice to realize that Asians do have a significant presence and authority in the "Western" world and being able to read about people making a difference out there is quite inspiring.

 

Well, I started writing this thing around 11 pm and now it's close to 1 am (what can I say, I got distracted). I am quite satisfied with how this first entry came out, though I should probably be more focused next time. Anyways, if you took the time to fully read this post, then I thank you very, very much and I hope that what I've written gets you thinking. Any comments are welcome (though honestly I'm terrible at keeping up with them).

 

So, 'till the next post then!

 

--Karin Novelia, Trying to Stay Current in a Fast-Paced World

Quick Update

How do you define a day well-spent?

 

Is it when you managed to cram a bucket load of school subjects in the least amount of time?

 

Or is it when you spend your time appreciating the beauty of some form of art?

 

Anyways.

 

This update is just to write something, I suppose. A slightly desperate attempt at so.

 

But I'm doing okay. My OBS post should be coming soon, it's somewhat a quarter-way written (though it could get longer). I spent most of the morning digesting things, such as what's happening in Syria, some works of Van Gogh, reading recounts and watching how people remember 9/11. I even finished an incredible read, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. It might warrant a book review (emphasize on might) but I don't know. It's the kind of book that touches you in such a profound way, to speak of it feels like a betrayal to the work, a betrayal to the personally deep connection you have somehow managed to form with it.

 

It's dinner time, so I guess I should head downstairs.

 

'Till later then.

 

--Karin Novelia, Just Here

Puke Space

Hello.

 

I know I promised some... "happier" posts, but I figured I need some time to ease back into this blogging thing.

 

So here it is.  A list of my random thoughts (cuz I sure love my lists, mmhmm). And from now on, such posts shall be called Puke Spaces (it shall be a THING).

 

1). It's hard to turn a blind eye when something you don't really wanna see is constantly all up in your face. All. The. Freaking. Time.

 

2). Can you really blame someone for being the way they are, even when who they are tends to make fun at your expense or disregard your feelings? I guess you could. But the problems is, since they don't realize what they're doing, you can't really fault them. Otherwise, you're the one who ends up looking like you've got a problem.

 

3). I don't care what anyone says. Indian boys are cute.

 

4). What does it mean to be thoughtful? It's to do something sincerely for others, not because you expect something in return, but because you care for them. But I'm finding it hard to be sincere when I know, no matter how thoughtful I am, it doesn't really matter to the other person. Because I'm not the one they wish would be that thoughtful to them.

 

5). When you've be unhappy for so long, the image sort of sticks. Which sucks. Because people question when you're happy. Genuinely, truly happy, even for no particular reason. As if it's so hard to believe that you are capable of happiness.

 

6). When you say something and it goes unheard, but when someone else says the exact same thing and gets a great response, what does that mean? Maybe there's just something about me that is simply... not.

 

7). It sucks to feel like there will never be anything consistent in your life.

 

8). Tom Hiddleston is the epitome of perfection OKAY.

 

9). Panic! At The Disco is the best.

 

10). I guess I'll never truly get over things.

 

That's it, I guess. I'm out.

 

So yeah. Till next time.

 

--Karin Novelia, Puking Out Her Thoughts

Better Versions

Hey, hello, um, hi!

 

... Damn. I really am rusty with this thing.

 

It's been a good month or so since my last post, and that wasn't exactly a happy one either.

 

If I am being honest here, or at least as honest as I usually try to be on this blog, I fell into a bit of funk by the time I got back from the June holidays.

 

I was, for lack of a better term, depressed.

 

Now, I've had inklings of this feeling creep on me before and they were never this bad. They were fleeting, at best, only temporary.

 

But this time... this time was different.

 

It was the kind of depression that was stifling, crippling. It really inhibited my ability to fully function and emote. It was scary. Really scary. And in the midst of my lacking emotions, I found that in my struggles to actually feel something I was lashing out, holding on to the pettiest feeling of irritation and anger, simply because they were there, they were accessible, they were the easiest thing to hold on to.

 

Long story short, I was a bitch for quite a while. There was damage done, some of which is still apparent, but hopefully can be patched over. Sometimes, it seems like it's irreparable. I guess that's my own fault.

 

Good news, though, I'm getting better. One main reason I think lead to the depression getting so bad was my initial refusal to acknowledge it. Although I said it was crippling and limited my ability to function, I could still push on. Keep Calm and Carry On as the Brits say. It made me incredibly guilty to even think about calling what I felt 'depression' because I know that other people have it a lot worse, other people can barely get out bed, other people have better reasons to be depressed. What was I doing? All I was being was ungrateful.

 

This change however, when I came across an article on the Internet. It was entitled Walking Depression and it described exactly what I was feeling, and perhaps what I knew all along but found no justification to properly acknowledge.

 

Walking depression is the type of depression that most people might face at some point in there live. It's the kind of dissatisfaction that makes it just a little bit harder to get out of bed. But you get up anyway. It's the kind of sadness that makes your days a little less brighter. But you go on and study and work and be productive anyway. Being functional is all fine and dandy but what's the point if you feel so unhappy?

 

Disillusioned. That was a word I attributed a lot to this, um, phase. It was like I was pushed, head first, into an empty swimming pool called reality, one that called that I be practical and let myself die a bit inside to 'succeed'. I wasn't really functioning. I wasn't really living. I was... trudging. That was another word that seemed so apt. I was being a soldier, keeping my head down, shoulders hunched, carrying on with no complaints.

 

Thank God that's over with.

 

You might be asking, what changed then? Well, acknowledging that I was unhappy was a nice first step. It gave me this sense of clarity and determination to find some way to fix it. So I set aside my pride, put down my armor. I apologized to people who needed to know how sorry I was. I tried looking out for more silver linings. I stopped being so hard on myself and occasionally let myself feel. I realized that I've been blowing a lot of responsibilities off -- and though it was too late to fix that, it was never to late for redemption. I reminded myself of the things that I love and why I do things that people may not approve of just because they think that having different priorities somehow makes me less of a person than them. The end goal wasn't necessarily to feel happy -- just okay enough to see the point in everything again.

 

I've been a bit interested in matters of the mind, and if you take the more scientific approach, how the brain works. Psychology and psychiatry are apparently two entirely separate fields. A recent article my tuition teacher gave me was even on anxiety. I've just finished a book entitled Hector and the Search for Happiness which talked about well, happiness, the way we perceive and process it in our brains.

 

I tend to say that I'm just a messed-up, giant ball of neuroses and perhaps that's true. Though from what I read, I don't fit neatly into one category. I have the faults of both ends of the spectrum apparently. I even came across a Tumblr post which nicely describes it.

 

So yeah. I think I just really needed to get this off my chest.

 

But, please tune in very soon as I'll definitely be posting some more positive posts :)

 

Look out for my OBS post and my latest initiative, something like a Learning Journal (sounds lame, but give me some time to think of something catchy). I'm trying my hardest not to lose interest in studies, but studying never really appealed to me. Learning, however, does. And I find that most of the time, I'm digesting things but not really processing them and spitting out some thoughts. Hopefully this Learning Journal will help me not only to express myself but to keep my interest burning strong. It of course won't be limited to what I learn in school. It could be about anything really, from what I thought about a TV show, a movie to classical music, the arts like Vincent van Gogh. The works. Mind you, this Journal will basically be a puke space of creativity, so don't expect any coherence of thought that I don't really have time to do anyway.

 

I really think I'm in a good place now. OBS, which was this outdoor camping course, was uplifting (but more about that later) and strengthened my resolve to be someone people can look up to. I once said that every time I looked into the mirror, I didn't really like who I saw -- this Paper Girl who was flimsy, thin and fake.

 

That Girl's gone. Maybe not completely, but I'm getting there.

 

And now, when I look in the mirror, I see a sincere smile, a slight glint in my eyes. I see a better version of me.

 

Let's hope there's only more good things to come.

 

Thanks for reading!

 

--Karin Novelia, Feeling So Better After a Long Time

My Emotions (Or Rather Lack Thereof)

I used to say I hated routine. It was predictable, unexciting and dull. Now however, I have changed my mind. Routine, I've learnt, can actually be quite nice. The sense of order and familiarity of doing something on a regular basis is grounding, calming. Still, there are sometimes when the routine starts feeling like a chore.

Take studying for example. It has been a love-hate relationship between me and this 'necessary' act that most people believe will greatly determine my future. After the June holidays (which was... enlightening, to say the least) I decided to really clean up my act and that included buckling down and accepting the fact that as much as I disliked it, I had to study, whole-heartedly and in an organized, regular basis. I definitely do not want to waste my time while I'm here.

I am glad to say that, so far, I have stood by that resolution. I've stopped procrastinating, I'm on top of my homework. I've even read ahead for some subjects.

I've never felt so... settled in my life. Sadly, I've also never felt so dead.

I feel like a robot. I do my work, I study. But I feel nothing from it. I've blocked out all sense of boredom and hesitation when it comes to work and hence can do it properly, but consequently, it seems I've numbed out any feelings of excitement in doing it.

I feel so uninspired.

I've felt so weird since I came to Singapore. I'm not sure why. Did I not feel ready to come back after coming home? No, not in the least. Then why?

What's happening, I'm beginning to suspect, is that I'm reverting to my unemotional self.

I decided to focus on work, even if that meant sacrificing some small pleasures. Even if that meant, sort of cutting off a relationship or two. And that's killing my spirit a bit, I think.

It's amazing how much can seemingly change in a week or two -- but, and this is a big one, what if the fallout was inevitable? It was one that was simple delayed, but bound to happen from the start. Simply because it doesn't work. Not from lack of trying, but just because.

I've thought and said quite a number of things this week that I guess you could classify as mean and bitchy. But the thing is, when I say these things I'm not sad, cynical or bitter. I feel practically nothing, and these things come out in an unemotional, robotic manner. They're logical, that's all. I haven't even talked about my feelings in the past two weeks, which is a bit of a record. Even as I write this blog post, it feels like I'm writing down observations than my actually feelings about things.

I don't know.

It's also getting pretty hard to get excited about things. Even when I do reach a decent level of highness, it fizzles out pretty quickly.

I feel so weird. I don't feel like myself anymore. Then again, I was never really sure who exactly 'me' was.

Perhaps this is just a phase. Just an adjustment.

All I know is that, I'm changing. In substantial, sometimes startling ways. For better or for worse, I can't tell.

Let's hope for the better.

-- Karin Novelia, Trying To Feel Something

Not Getting Any Younger

Hello, internet.

I do realize it's been a month since my last post, but hey, I've been busy. I actually have a life now, one that's way more hectic and a tad... restricting sometimes, but at least it's not boring.

I am blogging on familiar territory, propped up on my bed back in my room (or at least what's left of it, since it technically now my sister's) in wonderful Indonesia :•) (That, ladies and gentlemen, is a clownface. Say hi to the lil' clownface! You'll probably see him a lot on this thing)

Anyways, I flew back just this morning, and with my busy schedule this month (I swear, my holidays are more tiring than school days) I was absolutely knackered by the time I got home and I should probably get some sleep, so I'll be quick.

As frantic and crazy as the couple of weeks have been, I have never felt so overwhelmed and fed up with everything but I've also never felt so... alive.

I've never felt so young.

There are the days when life decided to throw some 'bovine manure' your way, and then there are the days when life actually decides to be a little bit nice to you. And even when life's caught in between the two, you tend to realize that good things - the fun, friends, family, the chosen happiness - really can outweigh the bad.

Singapore has been a mixed bag of self-discovery and angst, complicated feelings but I guess the bottom line is that my time spent there is changing me. Whether for better or for worse, I can't really tell.

So to prepare for the upcoming school term and the rest of the year, I really need to focus and use my holiday as a chance to recuperate and grow, maybe pick up a skill or two.

The Off The Grid thing I did awhile back did wonders in helping me do that last year, so maybe I'll do something similar this time around :•)

But living in Singapore has also given me a sense of greater independence, a more profound sense of freedom. And though, frustratingly, it may not be as much as I want sometimes, I remind myself (or rather my annoying best friend does) that I'm only 16, I've got a full life ahead of me. I am still young after all.

I think most people have forgotten what being young really means, getting themselves lost in the fast-paced, modern world.

Being young means having free license to make mistakes, break some rules, go on adventures.

Fall in love.

Being young means being able to experience the world in its fullest splendor, with arms wide open at what to has to offer.

I know it sounds funny, that sometimes I actually have to remind myself that I am still young. But one of these days, that's gonna change. I'll start being truly and freely young.

I mean, it's not like I'm getting any younger.

-- Karin Novelia, A Bit Too Sleepy Now To Think Of A Catchy Tagline

In The End

Have you ever woken up and been terribly, horribly, paralyzingly scared that the next time you wake up in 20 years or so, you'll be waking up to a life that just isn't what you imagined or hoped for it to be? All your hopes dashed. All your dreams shattered. All your plans falling through. All your days seeming gray and monotonous.

No? Just me?

Hmm.

-- Karin Novelia, Hoping This Will All Be Worth In The End.

The Degree of Damage Done

A friend of mine, upon seeing a kiddie ride, pointed out on how as kids we were so fascinated by things like Barney the Dinosaur. As we grew up those perceptions of ours changed. We began to see how ridiculously illogical those childhood figures were. And though there's something to be gained by that maturity of thought, there's also something that's inevitably lost; our sense of wonder and naivety towards what is, essentially, a pretty daunting world.

I've come to realize that I am generally a sad person. I wasn't always like this. I am particularly aware that there was a turning point in my life, that moment when I decided to do a complete 180 and grow up, perhaps a bit too fast. I can't exactly remember when. Like most inner paradigm shifts, I know that the change happened, I just wasn't fully aware that it was happening at the time.

Most of my life consisted of changes and me adapting to these changes. I got so used to coping with things on my own, so by the time my 'coming-of-age' moment happened, when my child-like innocence was shattered, I found myself horribly lost and alone. And unlike many instances (depicted many times over in movies, biographies, documentaries) where the 'protagonist' is guided by some mentor-like figure, I had no one to catch me, no one to fall back on.

As far as unstable goes, I'm pretty messed up. And I'm not trying to make myself sound like a victim. If anything, those lonesome struggles have taught me something important.

How fucked up a person is, isn't so much determined by all the bad things that happen to them. You're only as fucked up as you allow yourself to be and it's simply a matter of choice to how badly you let the the degree of damage become.

So yeah. This is me, trying to control the damage. This is me trying to experience the world with arms wide open -- like a little kid.

(That was a crappy conclusion. I'm sorry)

But thanks for reading.

-- Karin Novelia, Wanting to Go On Kiddie Rides Again

Life is a Funny Thing

When I say something is funny, I usually mean it in a sad, sarcastic way. Because sarcasm's the way I deal with things. And though a sharp tongue may not leave me with that many friends, you can't really fault me for being honest.

Life is also damn ironic. Anything pertaining to it, the questioning and the doubts, I usually share through this blog because well, nobody really cared to listen in real life. That's changed a bit though. Questioning life has become something of a daily routine (besides my daily affirmation of 'I'm a horrible person' but I'll get to that later) and it actually makes this blog a bit obselete.

I've found people who I can talk to, people who are willing to listen. And I've never been more grateful.

But, and perhaps this is a big one, we can't expect too much from anyone. We can't expect them to be always there for us, we can't expect them to always understand. The romantic in me would like to believe that, at least, there's one person among the 7 billion in the world who can always be there for me. You know, that person who's presumably *the one*. Even now, the appeal of that idea is dimming. It sucks, really. But it's true.

And in light of my recent stress (mid-years and all) I can't help but feel that something that's internally a part of me is changing drastically. And it's hell of a lot scary, to just watch this change happen, to know that the one thing you'd think would be constant in your life - your values, your beliefs and your dreams - are changing due not only circumstance, but possibly choice.

So yeah. There are some things I still can't fully say aloud, but then again I guess those are the things meant to be put on this blog. Here they are, a few things I find funny with (my) life:

1. It's funny when the moment you finally feel happy - genuinely, consistently happy - you just start expecting things to fall apart.

2. When so many bad things start happening, there's a point when it stops coming as a surprise, it stops to hurt and you kinda wanna laugh, cuz it's funny the way you're kinda 'used to it'.

3. It's really funny when you say something, thinking you're being subtle, thinking that the way you veil your words -- like reading aloud a poem -- would make someone understand only to end up hurting them. Then you realize, maybe that's really what you intended to do all along.

4. It's funny when, even though you've known someone for quite awhile, you suddenly *see* them as if you didn't properly see them for what they are. Something special.

5. There are those funny days when you wake up and think of someone. And the thought of that someone makes you realize, "Hey, I think I have feelings for you". Then you think, "This might get interesting". Then you think, "This will not end well".

6. It's a funny, almost surreal moment; that moment when you fall out of love with someone. Initially, you feel glad, relieved. "Glad I found a reason not to stick around for that trainwreck." And the next time you see the person, you feel fine. No expectations, no butterflies. Then, bam, you feel like you've lost something. You feel like you're missing out. You feel like you're giving up on something you never even gave the chance to happen.

7. It's funny - damn hilarious even - when you find yourself next to someone you think you've gotten all figured out only to realize (and to be even told by the person themself) you don't know that person at all. You're not as close as you'd imagine or want yourselves to be.

8. And it's really, really, really funny, the way you can be so comfortable around someone and the next moment wish they'd never even become part of your life. Because you want them around. Even though they make things complicated.

9. It's funny, in a dramatic irony sort of way, to see things that noone else apparently sees. To know things which are obviously there. To read people so easily. Because when things start happening, going exactly as you predicted they would, it becomes your own little inside joke. "See I was right, I saw this coming." But then you wish you were never right in the first place.

10. And it's tragically funny, the way you can put up such a strong front, a noble facade only to fall apart moments later. Moments like those are embarassing. It's as if you think no one will forget it, no one will look past it or see you the same way again. But then they do, and you wish they didn't. You wish you could stop pretending.

11. It's a funny moment in your life when you realize, even the person you're closest with the most will never be completely honest with you. Even when you try to open up and put your heart on the line (which, trust me, for me isn't easy) they turn to be the most unemotional person. Ever. And though the poison's in the well, you stick around anyway. Even though you wonder why you do, why you try so hard to have this person around. Even though you're also glad that your paths have somehow crossed.

12. Oh and here's the kicker, the ultimate punchline. It's funny when you know things aren't going to end well. When you know all you're going to get is hurt. But you don't back down, you don't turn around and run away, you don't try oh so very hard to just numb everything out.

You let things happen anyway. You let yourself get hurt.

Even though, most likely, you'll regret it, you undeniably know this one truth: despite the universe working against you, that small sliver of a chance at happiness is always worth taking.

Thanks for reading.

--Karin Novelia, Laughing at Life

Hey, Soul Sister

I am not Karin Novelia.

I'm half of her soul.

We're two halves of the same spirit, stranded and lost in two different bodies.

My name is Maria Esterlita Siantoputri.

I am currently writing on Karin's page because she has naively let me. (evil laugh here)



(awkward silence)



...I am definitely not a blogger. I don't know what to say now.

So yeah.

I was here.

--Ester, Ruining The Quality of This Blog

Momentary Repose

It's been nearly two months since my last post. I hope you can understand that I've been busy. Uprooting your whole life and trying to settle down in someplace completely foreign takes up quite a bit of one's time. The post before this, about the Singapore Walk was a bit long overdue, but I left it lying around for too long that I lost the flow. It seems rushed and I hoped to make up for the atrocious quality with some photos, but since the internet's not really being friendly right now, I'll try to come back to that as soon as possible.

 

How has it gone so far? Well, I'd rather not go into details. It's been okay. Nothing's bad happened. But (if you read my blog) I'm sure you know that I've expressed this feeling of being stuck, of wanting to get back that spark again. That feeling's still there. Which sucks since I was expecting it to go away once I got to Singapore. I guess it has, to a certain extent, but not as much or as quick as I wanted to.

 

I have a really busy week ahead of me. I've got a bunch of CAs which are basically these tests and I've been going through such a mood swing, constantly oscillating between being completely lethargic to being painfully diligent, that I'm not sure how my grades will turn out. I actually spent last night staying up extremely late (about 3 in the morning) brushing up on my Maths (we're not on really good terms right now) and spent most of today feeling slightly motivated, but overall apathetic.

 

It's was nice to see how much I can get done when I feel driven and motivated but I guess I'm still feeling a bit lost with my whole sense of purpose.

 

Good news though, I'll be flying back home for a few days by the end of the week. So yeah. At least there's something to look forward to.

 

Let me just leave this little poem (?) I tweeted right here:

 

The scales have tipped

And the tide is rising

The winds of change are blowing

However, unfortunately,

I have no idea where they'll take me

 

--Karin Novelia, Coasting Somewhere in the Middle

 

Sauntering Through Singapore (Part 3)

20th of December, 2012

The banks of the river are lined with the towering skyscrapers, stacked masses of steel and concrete reaching up to touch the azure sky. The water is slightly murky, but clearer and definitely cleaner than the rivers back in Jakarta. My eyes are drawn to the black lampposts that are spaced at even intervals. Something about them seems regal, almost out of place as the old-fashioned design is laid against a background of urbanity. I instantly think of Victorian England, and perhaps there is something to that comparison. Singapore is the mini-London of South East Asia, perhaps with a touch of New York about it too.

The Singapore River Walk was incredibly reinvigorating. We started with classes but that soon passed quickly as our excitement mounted and our time of departure loomed closer. We headed out together, taking the MRT from Toa Payoh to the Raffles Place station.

We emerged to a street, posh and modern to the highest degree. Men in suits and ladies in heels walk along the sidewalk, looking professional and busy.

A few statues are scattered here and there.

There's one dedicated to Isaac Newton. A gaping hole can be seen in his head and chest, an artistic expression of 'open-mindedness' and 'open-heartedness', two qualities one requires to survive in today's world. Another is one of a large, non-proportional bird. It's supposed to signify optimism and serenity to propel Singapore's future development.

We walk a littler closer to the riverbed, leaving behind some renowned buildings such as the Maybank Office building and Raffles Point. Another point of the interest that catches my eye are the beautiful white bridges that span the width of the Singapore River. The Cavanaugh Bridge looks like something plucked out of the heart of London. The Anderson is more minimalist in design. A large bumboat passes underneath this bridge carrying a band of tourists with sunglasses on, cameras in hand. By the side of the bridges aforementioned, a sculpture of young children jumping into the river makes one reflect on those days gone by, when Singapore was a humble fishing village with a filthy river and stands as a reminder of the immense progress this country has made.

We encounter more statues on our scenic route, this time catching a glimpse of Singapore's diverse cultural history. There's a display of three people, standing and sitting round each other, engaged in a conversation. One of them is a foreigner, someone from the West; the other of Oriental descent; and the third, a man wearing a Peci, hailing from the lands of Malaysia.

We also took a look inside the Fullerton Hotel, one of Singapore's most elegant establishments. Christmas was just around the corner and so the lobby was decked with holly and merry devour. Again, something about the Hotel's architecture gave me a sense of colonial Britain while offering something modern to the senses as well.

We soon come across a statue of Sir Stamford Raffles, a prominent figure in Singapore's modern development. There were these men with snakes nearby, offering passersby a chance to be adventurous and take a photo with the large, scaly creatures. It was a chance I didn't pass up.

The highlight about of the trip was reaching the Marina Bay area, where the island's iconic Merlion is situated. Though it's a site I've previously visited there's something about the breeze, the sight of the water expanding towards the horizon, the close proximity of architectural feats such as the Marina Bay tower, the Arts and Sciences Museum, and the Esplanade that makes me feel like there's a whole world laid out in front of me, waiting to be explored.

The walk, as I've pointed out, acquainted me with Singapore's culture. It was appropriate then that our final destination was The Peranakan Museum. The term 'peranakan' refers to the new generation of Singapore, those who became the embodiment of different cultures, coming from a mix of different backgrounds and ancestry. We marveled at the antique items on display, each telling a story of tradition that collectively makes up Singapore.

Two hours were spent in that museum and to be honest they passed by in a flash. The idea of living in Singapore continued to grow on me. And if living her meant getting to see, learn and experience new things, then I just might like it here.

--Karin Novelia, Soaking in the Culture