The thing is I’m quite confuse. I made this blog to contain the story happened while I’m in the Geordie land. But now, I already returned to Indonesia. I don’t know if it is still legitimate for me to write here or to be back in my old blog. I can’t keep making blog every time my life changes. The same thing that I can’t keep moving and trying to find the perfect place to life. There is no a perfect place.

I’ve been reading ‘The Happiness Project’ by Gretchen Rubin, and she mentioned something about happiness that really hit the spot for me. She talks about the ‘arrival fallacy’. That sometimes people confuse themselves, that certain event in the future will make them happy. They always strive for that ‘future’ to happen, to think that they will be happy then, but actually they never will. It’s like chasing a fog. You see a fog ahead, but once you are there. You see nothing.

At the moment, I’m quite excited of going holiday with specific someone. I can’t wait to spend time with him. But deep down I’m scared. That when the time comes, it won’t be as fun as I thought it will be. Like Adele said, it’s like chasing endless pavements.

It’s like when I’m in Indonesia, I want to go overseas. And once I’m there, I want to return home. And the cycle continues. The satanic cycle.

I want to believe that it’s not only my problem. That it’s the human thing.

I want to believe that it’s not only me that looking for that ‘perfect place’.

I want to be happy. Here and Now.

I love you even if that means I’m narcistic.

I have my essay selected as top 200 essays for the World Bank essay competition 2011, which made me really really happy, but also kind of sad and worried.

Why?

I’m happy because I made it! I made it in my first attempt. When I first received the email notifying that I got selected for the top 200, I was having this huge self-doubt about myself. I seriously thought that the top 200 is the lowest one. I was thinking, there must be only 200 people submitted the essay and that’s why I got selected.

I really want to slap myself for doubting my own capabilities.

But when I checked to its website (which is here, if anybody fancy to try it next year: http://www.essaycompetition.org/), my mood shifted, my ego boosted, and my confidence rose as I know that there were 1900 entries for this essay competition coming from 150 countries. So, not bad huh having it to be selected as top 200?

So now, rather than wanted to slap myself, I will pat myself on the back and say: Well done, Nay!

But it also made me slightly worried.

Why?

Because, as some of you who know my character already, this experience will only make me to want more. I’ll definitely try it again next year. But then, I’ll be 25, on the dot, or even older by couple months by May 2012, the deadline for next year competition. I’m not sure if I’m still eligible to participate. I hope I still.

So yeah. That’s the bless for today.

I’ll return to do what I supposed to do today, i.e writing my news story.

Best of luck for me, and also for YOU.

P.S: This is a quote from the winner of this year which she also quoted from her source in her essay. She is from India, anyway.

‘I once asked Gunawanti what is her idea of happiness and she said “If I know that both my family and I can be rest assured that all our dreams are not restricted by our inability to fulfill them, I will be happy”.’

And the purple sofa. And how it instantly embraced me and made me feel like I’m at my own home.

What I noticed was your curly hair. How it moves as you explaind to me different kinds of tea. So British.

What I noticed was your funny laugh. And your strange accent.

And your olive shaped green eyes.

How it twinkle everytime you talk about babies.

I asked, ‘You must have like kids alot, do you?’

And it amused me of how you blushed over that question.

Though you said, not really, I knew the answer was yes.

And I felt the warmth in my chest.

So I smiled, and gived in to your lure.

I almost give up, you know. Give up to the hope that there is, still, a good guy out there. The one who is caring, smart, and funny like you.

And the one who likes babies!

Though it was such a short time. And most probably we wont see each other anymore. I would like to say, thank you.

Thank you for restoring my faith on good guy.

And thank you for making me like you.

I love the way you make me feel.

My old symptom kicks again. I’m being lazy to write as life getting better.

So, what’s new? Euro trip in April, did BBC Work experience at World Today in May, and now, it’s been three weeks interning at Press Association.

And most importantly, I moved out. I live alone now, which for me is such a huge huge huge pleasure.

I feel that I have a total freedom and somewhere of my own territory to recharge in. These past few weeks, I happily did those routine, insignificant households chores like doing laundry, cooking, more cooking, mopping and more mopping and actually being happy about it.

See, I dont mind cooking if I have my own personal kitchen.

Life is good at the moment, though I miss home a lot.

And the more I miss home, the more I feel reluctant to call home.

That’s just another weird syndrome of mine.

And trust me, that wasn’t love. That was just your hormonal glands playing trick over your heart.

And this, is clearly, not a love story.

When I picture you in the future, it still you and her looking at each other, eyes full of understanding. And me, still in the corner, smiling, cause you have made the right decision.

It started as I open the front door. I ducked into the car. Said good morning and smiled to you. All, out of courtesy.

I fastened my seat belt, and you started driving.

It consisted of one awkward hour as we sat next to each other, failed to find common conversation topic.

Then Cupid decided to play.

Then, we started talking.

I laughed at your silly jokes, and you laughed at my stupidity.

Then you started to open up. About you. About your inner fear, dream, and worry.

And I started to open my eyes. To see you, not only as a flesh of my friend. But beautiful broken soul that I have to protect.

Then we started holding hands. And played boyfriend and girlfriend without noticing.

And I’m falling. For you.

It’s the comfortableness that you caused. It’s your smile. Your constant voice in the background as my eyes wandering around the scenic view of England.

It’s everything, within that road trip.

It’s everything within that six hours.

#damn you for making me vulnerable

The term and position of Prime Minister was first being created when the German born King George I who spoke little English asked to host a cabinet meeting. As he couldn’t speak English fluently, he appointed someone else to host the meeting. Since then, that person is called Prime Minister.

Funny. Spoiled king transformed the whole British governmental system.

This is me. Returning back to my cocoon, at Wingrove Garden.

And I found this song while browsing to my friend’s blogs. He made himself a music box for his girlfriend using this song. He is such one sweet guy.

This is me. Returning back to my cocoon. Listening to this love song. Looking the rain drops on the attic window.

A perfect safe house.