How To Not Want To Drive: Drive In The Big Durian

Setting: Lunch Time Rush Hour – Jakarta, Highway.

Hning: Behind the wheels to her beat up Toyota Kijang, in Abaya and Headdress, fresh out of the Saudi embassy, sweating profusely, giddy from the congested traffic, running 20km/hr on her tenth hour of practice driving behind those awful hordes of cars and motorbikes from hell.

Instructor: Old man in his fifties, doesn't give a crap about neither car or driver, and is only thinking about what to have for lunch with his wife.

Instructor: Doesn't even look at Hning as he says: "Okay, honey, you seem to be doing fine. I'll leave you now for lunch." – AND JUMPS OUT OF THE CAR!!

Hning: Is flabbergasted.

Hning: Starts again driving because cars behind her are honking like mad.

Hning: Scratches a car, breaking one sign-light, muffling protests with a blue Indonesian banknote, and hollering apologies at the car owner.

Hning: reaches home safely. Kisses the ground and says: "Never, ever again!" Then stuck on environmentally friendlier public transport, such as trains, bicycles, ojeks and magic carpets.

Being stuck with a writer's block is partially blamed on the existence of this blog.

The person who has been writing here, has been writing with the kind of voice that Hning considers erratic, angry or generally nuts.

And in the last few months, she hasn't been erratic, crazy or generally nuts enough to recognize her own writing voice. Her thoughts haven’t been as critical as it used to be.Her feelings hasn't been strong enough to stir an A or a B or a Z, much less and entire sentence. And forget about all the dirty, sublimated ideas and behavior that used to fuel her creativity, because she's as dry as a camel's hoof in a bright Saharan noon!

It's not that her world has been less than over-stimulating. Ever since she's been retrieved from Aceh, she's been doing things that a "jobless" person wouldn't normally be doing. Like having a four-days international exhibition for a company that she never knew she had. Or commuting back and forth between Bali, Central Java and Jakarta within a single month, for a number of times. Or learning to drive in accident-prone Jakarta. Or having her senses tweaked so sharp that she can start seeing real demons.

(…and here we thought that Hning is becoming less crazy-er than before, eh?)

Back to blaming this blog for this writer's block again.

Hning thinks that the things that she has been thinking about have slightly moved into different areas of interest. So much that the labels in this blog, or that the persona that Hning has been created for, doesn't seem to fit very well with the market of readers and the style of writing that we’ve grown accustomed to.

And she still needs to write.

So, for a while, Hning was tempted to start a new blog. You know, cheat on the whole developmental processes ; act like: "Hey, I've always been like this!", start an entirely new ID, develop a different branch of insanity.

But that's what people would do when they want to bury their past and forget. And Hning doesn't really want to forget. Or hide. Or start anything new.

She's still experiments with her life. Still gets bothered with the typical things that children and superheroes would bother about (yes, injustice and poverty and ignorance can should bother everyone until the world is alright again!!). Still smokes like a chimney and drinks coffee by the liter. Still turns pink and wags her tail furiously when you tell her that she's pretty and that you still love her.

She's just been stuck with a writer's block.

And every time the writer's block is removed, the writer's voice – when it comes – never fails to amuse her.

Maybe it would still amuse you too.

Cheerfully yours,

I regret
أنا نادمة
Aku menyesal

And in three languages I admit that; for every heavenly and earthbound scale that I know of has failed to measure its intensity.
و بثلاث لغات اعترف بندمي لأنني بكل الأبعاد السماوية و الأرضية فشلت عن قياس مداها.
Dan dalam tiga bahasa kuakui itu karena semua timbangan di langit maupun di bumi yang kukenal telah gagal mengukurnya.

Have you ever felt like that?

Untukmu yang tak tercapai.

For you, whom I can no longer reach.

لأجل من خرج عن نطاق جناحي

Haulage

Packing and moving a year's worth of belongings
= U$D 200

Packing and hauling self from Aceh to Jakarta, via Meulaboh
= U$D 200

Food, beverages and motion sickness pills
= U$D 50

Seeing mom pick up her head and look at me the way I've been waiting for the last seven-or-so-years
= GawddamnFuckingPRICELESS!!!

THAT's why it's Jeddah again in the cards, Bee.
Because I think I'm tired enough now. To sit.
For a good while.

A penny for your thoughts about Jeddah?

I need happy thoughts. I'm trying to convince myself to go back to Jeddah for a number of personal and semi-professional reasons.

Can you help make this process easier?

Tell me what things are there to look forward to in Jeddah. Tell me about things in Jeddah that never fails to cheer you up and help you unwind when everything else is just too hectic and annoying. Remind me of the little things, big things, goofy things that usually can tickle your happy-bone-marrow.

Make lists, essays, mind maps, diagrams, photographs, whatchumacallit…or if the subject has already been covered somewhere, feel free to point it out to me.

Be generous (I'm desperate for any ideas!), be creative (as half of my readers are artists of some sort), be kind (unless you have a personal distaste of having me be in Jeddah), be straight to the point (I'm too obtuse to decipher encryptions), and maybe by the end of this year you could have save one more mind from going berserk. Again.

Thank you for the thoughts.

Cheers,
Hning

Another One of Those Crossroads

When do you decide to quit on each other, on a job, or on a project?

When do you realize that it's time for you to put an end to a relationship, a break to a contract, and move on?

How do you know that you're ready to let go and start anew? How do you know that this is not another mistake?

I used to think that there aren't any mistakes in life. Just harsh lessons.

Then again, how can I be so sure that I'm learning anything at all? Or not?

What if this "starting-all-over-again" turns out as uncomfortable as it is now? Is it worth the effort to readjust again? Is it worth the effort to move on?

***

The only constant thing in this realm is constant change.
Nothing is definite. Nothing remains.

And we are bound to change.
Move in and out of things: places, jobs, positions, labels (child, mother, grandmother, حبيبتي, etc), years, relationships.

These are the "Inevitable Rules Life".

This doesn't change how much I love you. Doesn’t do justice to the rest of the submerged iceberg of guilt and grief to reach the end of this phase, and tell you that I have to go again.

I do. Have to. Go again.

And I will not look back.

Somewhere along the way, I may regret leaving.
I may want to come back.
I may back down on my decision.

But one sure thing is that, when I leave, I'm not going to regret staying.

I'm not going to regret Inevitably Living.
Or trying to.

Yoga

I have just spent the entire weekend paralyzed in my little hostel room, starving myself half way to insanity, missing her to a point of heartbreak.

The more reasons to do Yoga, eh?

The more reasons to hate it too, right now, in this messy state that I see myself in, Yoga's almost as good as retail banking: do-able, yet so out of context.

The God In Yoga

I couldn't ignore the need to do it anymore. I felt empty and unnecessary; as if my feet hadn't touched the ground for too long. It wasn’t just missing the absent that made me want-and-not-want-to do Yoga, but every other vagueness urged me to spread the mat, and stand like a mountain.

As soon as the sun-salutations warmed up my core, I was taken aback by the amount of feelings that surfaced up into my consciousness. Everything that I have been too busy to admit, or distracted myself from acknowledging, just poured out of my hands and feet and lungs. Small things, big things, huge things. Missing things, missing people, missing places, missing habits. Hating people, hating work, hating people at work.

Every day feelings.

What Yoga (and Prayer) Is About

Yoga reminded me why I hate silence and stillness so much: I haven't had the courage to face and acknowledge my emotional state of being. I've been suppressing everything that could cause me fear and anger, thus blocking every possible entrance for joy to slip in as well.

This is why I've been "too busy" to write. Not just blogging, but writing in general; the one habit that has provided me with relentless companionship and meditation. Just like Yoga and prayer, writing demands the same silence and stillness to produce the perfect pose and prose. To have the courage to face silence and stillness when all that I want to do is not-feel, deserves a medal on its own account.

It took me a good couple of hours after Yoga to wipe my face and inventorize my pending issues: the unacknowledged things that I had to cry for, the mess that exploded in my room from suppressed depression, the stinky ship that carried my soul…all needed proper attention to be cleaned and rearranged.

How else can you see yourself with clarity, if you do not cleanse your mirrors?

And even if not everything turned out perfectly alright afterwards, at least I had a clearer vision to where I was heading, and the better stance to take me there. For now, that's all that matters: A new beginning.