Déjà vu

Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet. - Dr Manhattan (Watchmen, Ch. IX, p. 6) 

I have experienced déjà vus. A lot of people does, I suppose. It’s a common occurrence. It’s less intense now–when I’m in junior high school the déjà vus came often and in full force, to the point that shouting “This must be déjà–!” is part of the déjà vu. (I have more vivid and lucid dreams at those times as well. Must be the amount of sleep I had back then). I have a déjà vu recently, about me talking to my friends in the McDonalds, them both sitting across me.

It got me thinking.

What if Doctor Manhattan was right?

There is no past. There is no future. The notion of time is just a term to refer how humans perceived reality–linear.

Things are already happening.
No.

Things happen. And it all happen simultaneously. It’s a chunk of solid object that has no concept of appearing “before” or “later”. It’s… you know. It just exists. All of them exist. Not in a way that one thing affects the other, but in a way that the whole thing is already set to be that way.

And déjà vus are the times in sleep when humans are seeing time in its real form. Déjà vu is the moment when instead of looking at time (reality) as something linear, you are peeking other part of time–a time you perceived as “future”, when there is no future. There is just reality that you have experienced in other time. If I’m using Dr. Manhattan’s analogy, it would be that déjà vu is the moment when instead of seeing the jewel clockwise (or whatever wise) in a fixed angle, you turn it upside down or turn it counter-clockwise or just see from another angle. If I’m using my analogy, it would be that time is a book, and déjà vu is the moment when you are flipping through a few pages after the part you’re reading. A moment that, unlike flipping through books, we seemed to have no ability to control of (at least consciously).

A very thick book at that (maybe not so thick for others). 

And boom.

Of course déjà vu ”will” happen.
It already "happened".

And if that’s true, then the concept of time can be more simpler. Of course people experienced time in different manner, that it’s different in variety of locations–it’s probably because time is not universal.

And if that’s true, then the term “fate” can never be truer.







(But hey, it's not that I'm an expert in physics or anything.)

p.s. it turns out that there IS a term referring (sort of) to this notion! It’s called Eternalism.
p.p.s it says nothing about déjà vu, though.

Some friends I made

For more or less two months I've been in Singapore, I made some more friends. I'm trying to make a list.. sort of like this one.. but it won't be discontinued (I feel sad about that, those who haven't been mentioned are all nice and special also) and I won't mention all of them. Just some. None of them are Indonesian on purpose.

(Just so you know, they're in alphabetical order)

Amanda

She taught me how to tap dance.

Fer

I think she's very pretty.

Jay

His face is always pleasant.

Kay

She recommended cool picture books to me. She has a very cute voice.

Louis

He gives warm hugs.

Maria

She didn't know (until I mention it) that China has the biggest population in the world. 

Navy

She's very pretty and witty and funny. She doesn't have a boyfriend yet.

Nay

She told me "I love you" in Bahasa Indonesia and taught me how to say "I love you" in Khmer.

Ryan

He is the first friend I made in class.

Shen Yang

She insisted to have a colorful template for a presentation because her topics is politics and she doesn't want to make it gloomier by having such dark template.

Other note: we komedians (term describing those people in my study program) are making a dictionary. Dictionary is needed because our jokes are painfully internal and usually academic-related, and there's unusually lot of us who is going on an exchange program. It'll be handy for those who just got back from a semester or year away to get the jokes when you have a dictionary, right? 

It's really funny.

There are something else I want to talk about regarding friends. I have a lot of friends; friends whom I close to because a lot of time spent together with them, friends whom I close to because of the same interests, friends whom I not very close with, and friends whom I close to because we share the same idea. But there are friends that I made, magically don't really belong in those categories. And those people are mostly those who got a very special place in my heart, I'd say. (Not that those in the said categories don't have a special place in my heart).

They are people that I can comfortably share my ideas with, even though we don't know each other for a long time, even though we don't even meet regularly, even when we don't share the same idea. Even when we are so very different that the only thing that brought us together is the fact that we can share  thoughts and ideas, that we find each other nice to talk with. And then again, I can't tell if they're my close friends (because we really don't interact that much; in a year, I can count times when we meet to sit and talk together with one hand--sometime none in a year's time) and I'm very sure that they have their own important friends to whom they confide with lots of times (me too), but I just know that they are just special.

Other than that, I think if these friends have anything in common, it would be that they don't think my ideas--or me in general--silly. Or even if they think so, they love me for it.


But having said that, my sister is still the person whom I share most of my playlist with (and the bed, of course). Hard to beat her for that.

Home and Good Food

Hi guys!

I went home for a few days last week.

Facing different things and different environment and different people--I don't think it's a big deal, I never had much thought about it nor it bugs me to have things around me changed, I'm too ignorant to notice the said differences, I think. But in the midst of it all I slowly notice that understand myself a little bit better.

Wanting to go back home and wanting to spend time with your family and other beloved for me is like wanting to have good food--or particular food that pops up in your head at random times. It's not that I'm homesick or that I'm super uncomfortable being in such foreign environment--I just want to go home. I just want to hang out with my friends. Just like at those times when for some reason you just want a juicy steak for lunch or having a carrot juice after a long run.

And it doesn't mean that other stuffs aren't as good--they're good too! Creamy pasta and hot green tea latte taste heavenly too, but sometimes you just want THAT steak and carrot juice. Just like watching girl idols are fun but sometimes you just want to spend your time in the karaoke with your sister.

They are tasty stuffs that feed your particular crave or hunger. And while the food satisfies your belly's, those times together with your beloved satisfy your soul's. (Or heart's. I can't differ which)

(But when I'm home I get to eat tasty foods and hang out my family and friends so I guess I satisfy both. I like the thought that I'm filling my soul with warmth and fixing my nutrition at the same time.)



Oh yeah! And it was unexpectedly fun because I didn't plan on anything but I get to meet my college friends, some of my high school friends, some of my junior high school friends, and even some of my primary school friends by accident (we met on the train)! It's just when I meet them I realize I miss their presence a little bit more than I thought I do.

Other unexpected stuff: I got sick. Nothing big, just cold. It's convenient because I think that's the first time I catch a cold after this semester starts. At least back in my home I have a nice fluffy bed to sleep on.

What I want

It was a day before CNY eve, the day I cried because I don't know whether to go out or stay at my room.

(It sounded ridiculous. I know)

I cried because I really didn't know what to do. I didn't feel like going. I didn't want to go. I don't mind going anywhere by myself, it's just that at that time I didn't think I want to go anywhere. But staying feels wrong. Because it seemed that everyone is going out and try to spend most of their time out--exploring the so called foreign city and doing whatever stuffs with their friends, and I don't. And if I don't, it seems like I'm wasting my time... sort of.

So I don't want to go. But I feel like I have to. 

I cried. I told myself that I don't have to cry because I can do what I want, but I don't want to be wrong.  I don't want to cling on something that is not true. Like wanting candy when you have diabetes. Or eating a lot of meat when your mom said you shouldn't. 

I told my puppet buddy that I don't know what to do and he said that I shouldn't do things that make me cry. He said that it might not be true--what I think I should do--and even if it is it won't be good if it were done with a broken heart. He said that it's okay to stay when I feel like staying and only went out  to hang out with friends or eat. He said it's okay to have different thing to care for.

I hugged him and I felt so silly for crying. 

-

I suppose I like being home--or whatever akin to it. I don't mind being alone for a long time. I don't really like conversing with a lot of strangers--because at that time I am anything but myself. But I love things that are festive and loud and bright and being in the middle of it all.

Other than that, I still don't know what drives me to live. My friend asked me not long ago, but I knew that it has been on my mind for a long time and never been answered. Is this mean that I'm one of those people who are merely existing, and not living? So sad... 

Is it even sadder that I don't feel as sad as I think I should be?

-

Mom is very moderate. She tells me what I should and shouldn't do and whenever I said "But I like it." or "But I want to", she'll say that it's up to me if I'd do it anyway. Dad is the reason why I eat a lot. If I can't decide on what to eat, he'd tell me to order everything that I want and I can give it to him if I can't finish it by myself. If I have to wait for my food to come, he'd buy me snacks to eat while waiting for the food. Is it my fault if I would do things that I don't really like solely because I love them and want them to be happy?

-

If I can have a kingdom of my own, I want it to be a place where I can see the open sky. And I can jump through my window and roll on the grass until I get tired and fall asleep until I wake up because of hunger. My people are magical stuffed animals that are powered by love and they will be there as long as I love them. I will tell them stories that I made up every day, and then I'd help them with their harvest and sometimes I'd help them milk their cows and feed their chickens. It doesn't have to be big, my kingdom, I figured that I want to walk around it by foot at times. I'll wash my horse everyday and I'll sleep whenever I want. I'll pet my cats and dogs and hug them and kiss them and rub my head to their belly everyday.

Once every full moon, we will have a bonfire and dance under the moon. We will sing and laugh and hug and kiss.

Whenever I'm bored I'll make up things to do and made it a routine until I'm bored again and make up another stuff to do.

I'll die, and when I died everyone will be dead because I'm dead and I can no longer love them. But can you love something forever, even after you die? Because that would be good. People don't have to die when I died. Or I think it would be better that because I loved them for a long time and they lived for a long time, they then learnt to love too, and because they love each other they can live forever. Or at least until no one love them anymore. Living a life without being loved is terrible anyway, I don't want them to live a terrible life.

-

Lies and Deceit

I remember one time when I'm still in my rebellious phase. I was in junior high school and I don't like it when I'm forced to eat dinner when I'm in the middle of doing something, so that one time is the time when my family (there's my aunt and my uncle also) forced me to eat chicken satay. My mom said it's good and I shouldn't sulk because I'm forced to eat. I ate some and my aunt asked me how it tasted and I replied "It's not special" just to spite them (I WAS in my rebellious phase). They laughed and say something akin to "she didn't mean it". I think I was pretty annoyed back then because I made myself believe that it IS not that special but they don't believe me.

I guess at that time I was too proud to admit that I could've made a bad decision on skipping dinner (or eating later on) or in general, I hate to admit that I was wrong.

Sometimes to the point of lying to myself that it is what I truly felt.

I don't know if I'm still like that though.

I mean, obviously I'm not brutally honest, not not in denial and never very eager to seek the truth. But I guess compared to my old self I learnt that it's okay to make mistakes and supposedly there are less lies that I've told myself (saying that there's absolutely none at the moment would be a lie, so. But I hope I'm wrong tho). I think.

Even if it's not, and whatever lies I've told myself keep piling and piling and piling because I'm that good at deceiving myself, is it really matter?

Is it really matter that I live my life happily because I lied to myself?

That I'm living a life of lies and whatever I convinced myself as genuine are never what I think it was?

That I'd die happy and content without knowing the slightest truth about who I really am?




I don't know, maybe not.

But even if it doesn't really matter, I think lying to yourself is not a very nice thing to do. In fact, I think it's a bit saddening and thinking about it makes me depressed a little. I don't really want to lie to myself.

But then again, I can't really say that one can differ which are lies and which are truths coming out of your head or heart (or at least me, I can't really say that I know how). I mean, how do you know? I don't know about you, but my head is full of voices. Sometimes it's not even mine--it sounded like my friends, my parents, sometimes it sounded like a pony. So how do you know which speaks the truth? I can't tell, most of the time. (I usually just follow whatever's convenient)




But if it doesn't really matter, then why bother, right?


p.s. Actually, there are a lot of times when I feel very honest. But I don't know if that's another lie my mind is trying to tell me.