Why So Serious?

You might find this strange, but the only time I can hear myself think is when I let myself into this isolated bubble which keeps me in a great distance from the world around me. That isolated bubble is the iPod (which has become one of my most prized possessions since three years ago). It’s probably quite accurate to say that 90 percent of what I wrote were written in my head, recorded there for a while until I find the time to jot them down on paper. Many of what I considered as great scenes in my two previous books were born in my head as I was listening to some particular songs (Alanis Morissette’s Flinch and Annie Lennox’s Why were two of my favorite songs when I wrote Divortiare). I survived one of my most complex business financing analysis at work by listening to Jamie Cullum’s Twentysomething album.
But then again, it’s funny how our mind adjusts itself to the changes around us. I’ve been enjoying my new job for almost 5 months now, and everything changes a lot, at work and in life. My numbers : people ratio (both at and off work) was previously 50 : 50, now it’s 10 : 90 (if this were a mathematical equation, the numbers would represent the amount of time I’m isolating my thoughts by plugging my ears with the iPod). This probably explains why my iPod could survive two weeks without charging and why I kept losing my voice.
Anyway, from time to time, I just love to take a cab when the traffic is the busiest, and let my mind wonder as random music were echoing in between my ears. There’s something liberating about letting hundreds of frame of your life being played back in your head whilst watching the traffic. I love it even more when it rains. It’s like every drop of water touching the windshield represent a nick of my life that deserves to be looked back at.
Lately, thought, I secretly hope that someone would just draw the Joker’s grin on that windshield. Or the word “why so serious.” I haven’t been able to induce temporary amnesia to let go of something that some friends of mine said a couple of weeks ago: “Please go back to the way you used to be. You are now way too serious.”
I don’t think I am. Really. But then again, here I am writing about this.

Those Little Details Are Too Important to be Shared in a Book

And to quote John Mayer: “I find it hard to write lyrics like I used to. This is not because people know so much about me, but because of what they think they know. So I find myself trying to guess what they think they know and then steer clear of it and find another way to explain myself. The whole thing gets very tiresome and has led me to say “fuck it” and write exactly like I used to.”

The Busway Experience

I don’t take public transportations. It’s not just how uncomfortable or how unhygienic or how crowded they are or whatever. It’s more of a safety issue. My brand new handbag was one sliced open by a mugger a few years back (leaving it practically a garbage afterward), and then on another occasion, a mugger took my mobile phone (leaving me very pissed off of all the lost contact numbers). But this morning, on a whim to go to the museum to indulge in my photography hobby, my friends suggested taking the busway. So we did. My first time ever. It was not that bad, really, I even took some shots inside the bus, despite the fact that I was constantly in a paranoia state of somebody mugging my camera or my iPod or my mobile phone. And you know what my friend said when we’re at the bus stop: “You know, Ka, you gotta make it big here. So you can ride in an Alphard with a driver chaffeuring you around. Not like us, taking the busway because we have to, enduring the sweaty crowd and all.” True. But in truth, the one thing that I hate the most about public transport is this: I can’t close my eyes and relax, plugging the iPod inside my ear, just me and my thoughts. The most precious time I have to have everyday just to clear my mind. How do you think I stay sane with three main jobs, countless projects, and at least 12 hours a day at work?