Sunset In A Cemetery

" Neurotic, ha!"  I let out a scornful laugh. "  If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive and another for the rest of my days."
Buddy put his hand on mine.
"  Let me fly with you."   - The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath "

source: tumblr

This week has been an unbearably insane one.

I still can't comprehend the fact that they just buried my own grandmother this Monday. And for the past few days I kept on dreaming about how the wet and worm-filled soil is treating her down there. It wasn't actually a nightmare, but not a good dream either. It's just like that dream that all of a sudden came up to you at night because you can't stop thinking about it when you're awake.

And I thought with me being absent for two days in school, I would have miss a ton loads of lessons. But instead, I found myself in a state of utter boredom and clearly un-panic just two hours after I arrived at school on Wednesday.

And then of course, as if my raging-teenage-hormone-filled life would not be complete without it, a creature of the same species of the opposite sex is currently on my mind for the past few days for 24/7! The last thing I want right now is to face another middle-school drama and get hurl back into a state of heartbroken. Again....
But the feeling is too mutual and unbearable.. I ... can't ... stop... And to whom it may concern, god, you had no idea!

Oh, and, um, to a/some particular girl(s) in my school who think that I actually care about them and their lives and all that dramas: ef wai ai, nope I don't give a piece of freaking shite on your lives. I've got mine to concern about so I don't think I could actually spend some time trying to care about yours let alone to be concern and talk about it. Kayyy.

Anyway, picture from last afternoon:

See the rest of it in Sasha's blog here :)

Now, I'm just gonna go watch the new season of Vampire Diaries until the sun rises back again. I'm still pissed that Stefan is now out of the scene,, which means less Paul Wesley-hotness. But Ian-Nina is just too cuteeee so I think I could still manage until they finally find out where the heck is Stefan.

Ciaoh!

Le Temps Perdu (Finale)

I am sad,

You're not there


When he screamed his lungs out
And she cried your name aloud
They all wept in sorrow
You're not there


A thousand souls shed a tear
Girls in black hide their fears
The stench of grief in the air
And you're not there


And when I blow out my candles
Go far away to strive and dream
And meet someone I'll love forever
You will not be there


So when the case is shut
The world stop spinning reversely
Everything come so clear
You're not here


You're save in His arms up there

But we'll meet again, soon.

Sincerely,

a granddaughter

Happy Birthday

Circa '98 (Mom, me, & Grandma)

 

Bon Anniversaire, Mamma!

 

I know it's hard to watch everyone broke down into sad tears on your own birthday, and Mamma I love you so much for holding on.

I'm trying to cheer up the day itself amongst the midst of all of these havoc and fights. And a blind man leading the partially blind, I'm trying to make you understand when I myself have no idea on what's going on right about now.

Much kisses and love from your stupendous (-ly in every way) daughter,

I hope you understand.

Mmuaahh!

 

Le Temps Perdu

I was crazy,

Lay me down on a bed made of wounds

Inject me with sugar and sweets

I'd inflate but I wouldn't mind

Just as long as you're there

Whisper me names or throw me gifts

You were once a walking spirit

I'd get hurt but it's never not find

Just as long as you're there

Death once had made me fall deep

Death twice who knows if I'd climb up

Death thrice I'd better be too

Not if you're there

Faux air won't ever be real

But it's harder to press the button

Much harder to watch the view

But then you're still there

That told me, give up

This told me, hold on

Those told her, don't stop

Everyone's here, I know you're there

Crumbs fell into black bitter pool

Disinfectant slathered my shaking hands

Eyes are swollen, mind is numb

And I'm still here

I hope you are there.

Sincerely,


Messed-up mind

bouquins

"Reading alters the appearance of a book. once it has been read, it never looks the same again, and people leave their individual imprint on a book they have read. once of the pleasures of reading is seeing this alteration on the pages, and the way, by reading it, you have made the book yours." - Paul Theroux

Eversince my last encounter with the beautifully hilarious words of Paul Murray in 'Skippy Dies', I haven't had the chance to experience the same pleasuring euphoria feeling I got when I was reading the book.
'The Girl With a Pearl Earring' by Tracy Chavelier was a bit more than alright since it makes me want to hop into a plane to Amsterdam and get into the Rijsk museum once again just so I could observe the Vermeer paintings much more closer this time. 'Unbearable Lightness' by Portia de Rossi was very heart-breaking and healing at the same time. And 'The Secret Annexe' by Anne Frank - which, for me, is more like a spin-off version of 'The Diary of A Young Girl' - was okay.
But none was amazing, alright. So a couple of days ago I decided to order some books that I've been dying to get my hands on for the past months. And now I've been counting days before the package will finally arrive and I could finally feed the literature-hungry monster that had been going rampant inside of me for these past few weeks 

Febie's Personal Bookclub List for Fall/Winter:

• The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
• Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen
• The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
• The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
• It's Kind of A Funny Story by Ned Vizzini

Those and a monthly dose of Nylon and (hopefully) i-D, since I can't find any single store in Medan which actually sell the magazine.

Oh, and meanwhile, I have to live with only suxx TV and old DVDs while trying to survive the weekend. Have a great one, y'all!

A sAd ST0rY~~*

Girl: I'm having heart surgery today.

Boy: I know.

Girl: I love you!

Boy: I love you more, much more!

After surgery, the girl woke up, only her father is next to her bed.

Girl: Where is he?

Father: You don't know who gave you the heart?

Girl: What? (She starts crying)

Father: Loljk. He went to the toilet

THEEND

(lawl. I was bored, k)

Fluorescent Adolescent

I gave the DIY article in the NYLON's August issue a try, and even though the end result almost fail epically (almost), I thought it won't kill if I post the tutorial here just for the sake of it. So here's how to make the awkward looking shorts that those fat and bald men in Bali often use:

The essentials:

• a copy of NYLON's August issue for (extra) preference (optional)
• a pair of light-color jeans
• Acrylic paint, preferably neon colours, more preferably neon yellow (I can't find a fabric dye, but acrylic does the same job)
• cheap brush. seriously. it's only for a lame shorts.
• paint for pattern, in different colour
• Kings of Leon's "Come Around Sundown" to scream along to (optional)

The steps:

1. Cut your jeans into the preferable length of your choice. I made mine short since long pants in neon yellow is just too much. Like really.

 

2. Soaked your jeans in a bucket filled with water mixed with the paint. I let mine stay in there overnight just so the colour would be absorbed thoroughly.

3. Take the pants out of the water, rinse it with cold water, and let it dry for a while before you could do the most vital part of this experiment: which is to spray the paint all over it.

Words of wisdom from me: if you don't have the "art hands" just be really careful, or else it'll look horrid if the paint is not spread out evenly.

 So, of course, I failed epically in step 3 since I definitely do not have the "art hands". And so here's the end result of my fail shorts.

THEEND *winkwink