The Past

The Nekat Traveler: The Best Is Yet to Come.

Cambridge, Cambridgeshire

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I was putting Cambridge a lot more responsibility as this city was the first city to begin whatever I was trying to begin with. And the job was well done. Cambridge treasures most of the bits I fancy about Britain's architecture which would come up within the list of why I love United Kingdom if someone ask me. Not quite sure why, but I feel safe in Cambridge more than any other places I have visit. Walking through the dark and quiet alley did not bother me much. All the posh colleges transmitting the aura of intelligence. Injects you with endearing imaginary passion to get accepted in to one of the fortune-cost universities. Honestly, I like that. I fall for Cambridge instantly. As if we are best friend in some other parallel universe.

York, Yorkshire

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It takes a while to get to York from Cambridge by train. Two stops. A small town called Ely and then Peterborough. Seeing York was like looking at one lousy charming gentleman, traveling with a guitar case on his back. Very, very attractive. But in the same time you could feel irritated with the scruffy beard, giving the sense something dangerous and rebellious hidden.

In terms of the structure, York wins out of everything. The old buildings, vintage-like alleys made you forget you were on the 21st century The existence of iPad nor auto-tune. It felt more like you were in the middle of Hogsmeade; somewhere behind the aged pub door, might lead you to a secret passage to Hogwarts.

Rain was pouring hard when I got out of the hotel. Gloomy weather probably one of the least thing any traveler wished for. Although, the wet and everything adding the art of traveling. I believe, without rain York would looked better. It still looked great under the rain, though. 

Durham, County Durham

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Pronounced, Darem. The idea to visit Durham came less than ten minutes when I stepped on York train station. At first, I thought we were going home. However, this city was very mysterious. It was like the  small version of York. Up hill high street, a massive cathedral, river with bridges. My bad, my feet did not fully support me to discover this city with proper enthusiasm. Also I got there when the sun already set. Spent only couple hours.

But one thing Durham got me going; the mysterious bookstore. There was one bookstore at the end of the main street, deep down where shops were getting least interest and less lightings. Waterstone. The Durham University merchandize that first pulled me in, while I could see from the outside, there was nobody inside but the cashier lady.

The magic neatly hidden on the second floor. Visitor might just lose the attention on the first floor because there was not much going on. But on the second floor, for me personally, I found a whole rack of my sanctuary. All kinds of philosophy books voicelessly calling out my name. I found my favorite bookstore in the whole world, in Durham. The city I never knew before I went to York train station!

In conclusion, this trip saved me. x
A piece by : Fiya Muiz

I Remember, I Was Once Happy

I have been going around this country little by little. It might look tempting from the outer look, but it actually involves a lot of feelings. Being here, away from home, in such early age as most of the people judgement, allows me to feel a lot of things. Staying sane and surviving everything takes a lot either. I am not going to say it is easy because it definitely far from it, but this makes me feel real. Feeling everything, making me feel more real than ever in my existence as if I can feel my own presence in this world by trying to survive the whole deal.

Oh, boy, this takes a lot. I am traveling mad as rabbit -- I do not think I would do any of this if I am in Indonesia. This, just one of those things happens once. Since the relationship between me and plans, are not going very well. I am being the most spontaneous version of myself more than I have ever been throughout the last nineteen years old life.

I just came back from a trip to three cities without hotel or any transportation booking in advance. This time, my partner in crime was Fikri, a dear friend back in Junior High. No, actually we were not much of a friend. We fight a lot. But we are a good friend now. I might have gone mad if he was not around three days ago. I will have a special post for the further details about this awesome trip, soon.

And meanwhile, here I am, alone on a double bed size I have not had for a while, under flower prints duvet, in southern London. Feeling awkwardly grateful. I am currently staying at my uncle's friend place for several days, having no plan at all. I am just trying new things. Thing I have never done before. Observing local family, for example. Living how they live daily between this cold weather. And not denying any rumors, so far they are more than lovely.

Although I am aware morning will come eventually and ask me what's the plan for tomorrow which I do not fancy that. I have been living these past two weeks without plan. I always come up during the last second. Quite thrilling, yet the pressure for having plans is overwhelming and irritating in the same time. Thus, I prefer midnight than morning. Which the complete opposite of me, a month ago. As life goes on, things change. Or as things change, life goes on. Same difference.

I beg your pardon for the lack of post. I was not in the best shape to control my state of mind during this Christmas holiday. I just can not wait to get back on track and live the life of happy days again!! Oh, happy Christmas and new year in three days!! :) x x

A piece by : Fiya Muiz

Dear Santa

Dear santa, if you do really exist, but do not worry, I am starting not to doubt the existence of a lot of things recently, do not feel excluded or anything. there is no offense implies here.

How are you, Santa? Hope you are doing well. My name is Fiya, has been 19 years old for approximately two weeks and two days. Assuming going through the phase of thirteen years old teenager all over again. I am new in this town, Bournemouth. Small town on the Southern part of England, the one with the lovely beach. Sixteen hours away from the first home. Busy making this town as the second. Getting there, I believe.

It is just this Christmas thing, Santa. This is my first year spending Christmas holiday where everyone actually celebrates. Both in a way the majority of people's beliefs and/or just an inherited culture. And this might be the first time I ever feel this lonely because most of the best people I know in this new town, are coming home. Home where the loved ones are, doing mostly what I have always looking forward during Ramadhan.

I have no rights to declare this is not fair, because this is a rather very sensitive situation as I am seeing everything through a subjective perspective, the natural selfish human being kind of way. Gah, I despise it because by only acknowledge it does not help AT ALL. If my life is a TV series, the other supporting characters that builds the story going, will soon to be leaving the scene for quite a long while. Nearly one month. Thus, the tendency to feel like going home increased 110%.

Daniel, the racist German, a walking general knowledge book, a prick and full time best friend, going to thy green Scotland meeting his lovely girlfriend. Hidetaro, the punk rock Japanese guy slash soon to be psychologist and a prick, going to Amsterdam and Poland to get basically shitfaced and collects the best of freedom along with the English Alex, who basically only worship single life freedom and being a prick as his part time occupation. Whilst Kim, the Korean prick who believe he was half black, already in London as we speak. And so on, and so on, this list might still on going contains nearly 98% of jealousy hence I'd better end here.

Here I am, on the floor, typing, with 1/4 cold crepes Dan bought at the Christmas market earlier, technically trying to let go the fact that I am not going to come back home in the next three weeks and pretty much have NO idea what am I going to do the next days forward. It has to be noted, not that I hate this town or country, it is simply because the undeniable tension to spend this kind of free days with the loved ones and familiarity of Jakarta won't leave me alone especially when it stays within my unconsiousness.

I might as well stays on this floor, in front of this laptop for the next three weeks. I might. Although unlikely to happen because I believe by then I might lose my mind, and I have moved to the mental hospital. Juuuuuuuust kidding. My family and friends especially Daniel and Hide would have kick my arse already. Which they already kind of did this past one week though the result seemingly not yet responding. YET.

I might just write a blog forever until the next term start and when I get back with actual things to do. Oh Santa, I just want to spend this festive holiday with my loved ones. Family and friends. Considering I have no boyfriend to mention. Quoting once the famous Britney Spears' song, my loneliness is killing me. Maybe Santa, just a little hopeful maybe, you might help me. Rumor has it, there is this Christmas miracle.

I have no chimney, I won't open my window cause baby, it's cold outside and I will lock the door for the sake of feeling safe, but Santa, I still hope for Christmas miracle. Not sure how you delivers the miracle package and in what kind of form, but you can tell the sun as the light creeping in through the window every morning where I always am in the most vulnerable state during the whole day, or through the cold winter air, slides in between the small gaps underneath the door, and everywhere.

Santa, I am not crying, I am not pouting and I have been a good girl according to my dictionary so please. I know you are coming to town, make sure you come to Bournemouth. Then prove me, okay? glühen wine on me if we meet. The talking goose on the German market really entertaining, I tell you. Oh, hope you do surf on the internet otherwise you can not read this lonely letter of mine.

Don't keep me waiting. You know we all hate that. Looking forward to hear from you. x x

Your curious yet desperados little fan,


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A piece by : Fiya Muiz


"Life is a series of pulls back and forth. A tension of opposites.

Like a wrestling match.
Which sides win?

Love wins. Love always wins."

(Morrie Schwartz, 1997)
A piece by : Fiya Muiz

It Contagious

Everything strikes as soon as I am alone. After the last goodbye hug. Following each steps from the sidewalk till the brown carpet staircase. I despise everything that is not on my hand. That I am not in control of it. That has been wired as my default settings. I despise with all the blood running on my vein as I worship the weakness within me; unconsciously surrender soon enough without carrying out relevant effort to stand up.

It contagious; relying on the result, everything will look terrible without bothered trying to be one. Bad mood against the world.

I feel very human for this past week. As I hardly satisfied with everything. As I always wanted for more. As I barely able to made up my mind. As my mood swings like pendulum. As I kept crossing my own rules. As the guilty pleasure follows.

Like a plastic jar of water accidentally hit by tiny bit of sharp pin, I broke down. It suppose to be nothing but I can feel this small hole, allow me to burst quietly, then tear me up. It suppose to be nothing. But I am weak enough to surrender towards my weakness and just fell. Not living the moment as I was told to. The thing about surrender in to a bad mood is, every good things are hidden somewhere unknown; and my mind is not willing enough to simply see and look for it, while sometimes actually good things are right in front of my eyes.

We all are the same. Human. The worst and best living thing in history of universe. Knowing what should not, but not doing anything to get away. I can go on for the next three years listing what human do. Mostly about the unqualified righteousness manner.

I know everything is alright. This just me and tiny scope around my head, transmitting such unwanted vibes. Nothing is wrong, really. I know what should I do, it is just a matter of willingness which I have not yet gathered to move. England is nice. I won't ever blame this country for my stupid mood. It has nothing to do with England. It has something to do with.. never mind.

Hi December! I promise jolly post coming up soon.

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz

This Is Water

This, might be the best thing you have ever read in 2011.
[or if you prefer to watch it on youtube. Click Part 1 & Part 2]

"There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, "Morning, boys, how's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, "What the hell is water?"

If you're worried that I plan to present myself here as the wise old fish explaining what water is, please don't be. I am not the wise old fish. The immediate point of the fish story is that the most obvious, ubiquitous, important realities are often the ones that are the hardest to see and talk about. Stated as an English sentence, of course, this is just a banal platitude - but the fact is that, in the day-to-day trenches of adult existence, banal platitudes can have life-or-death importance. That may sound like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense. So let's get concrete ...

A huge percentage of the stuff that I tend to be automatically certain of is, it turns out, totally wrong and deluded. Here's one example of the utter wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute centre of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely talk about this sort of natural, basic self-centredness, because it's so socially repulsive, but it's pretty much the same for all of us, deep down. It is our default setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth.

Think about it: there is no experience you've had that you were not at the absolute centre of. The world as you experience it is right there in front of you, or behind you, to the left or right of you, on your TV, or your monitor, or whatever. Other people's thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real - you get the idea. But please don't worry that I'm getting ready to preach to you about compassion or other-directedness or the so-called "virtues". This is not a matter of virtue - it's a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default setting, which is to be deeply and literally self-centred, and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self.

By way of example, let's say it's an average day, and you get up in the morning, go to your challenging job, and you work hard for nine or ten hours, and at the end of the day you're tired, and you're stressed out, and all you want is to go home and have a good supper and maybe unwind for a couple of hours and then hit the rack early because you have to get up the next day and do it all again. But then you remember there's no food at home - you haven't had time to shop this week, because of your challenging job - and so now, after work, you have to get in your car and drive to the supermarket. It's the end of the workday, and the traffic's very bad, so getting to the store takes way longer than it should, and when you finally get there the supermarket is very crowded, because of course it's the time of day when all the other people with jobs also try to squeeze in some grocery shopping, and the store's hideously, fluorescently lit, and infused with soul-killing Muzak or corporate pop, and it's pretty much the last place you want to be, but you can't just get in and quickly out: you have to wander all over the huge, overlit store's crowded aisles to find the stuff you want, and you have to manoeuvre your junky cart through all these other tired, hurried people with carts, and of course there are also the glacially slow old people and the spacey people and the kids who all block the aisle and you have to grit your teeth and try to be polite as you ask them to let you by, and eventually, finally, you get all your supper supplies, except now it turns out there aren't enough checkout lanes open even though it's the end-of-the-day rush, so the checkout line is incredibly long, which is stupid and infuriating, but you can't take your fury out on the frantic lady working the register.

Anyway, you finally get to the checkout line's front, and pay for your food, and wait to get your cheque or card authenticated by a machine, and then get told to "Have a nice day" in a voice that is the absolute voice of death, and then you have to take your creepy flimsy plastic bags of groceries in your cart through the crowded, bumpy, littery parking lot, and try to load the bags in your car in such a way that everything doesn't fall out of the bags and roll around in the trunk on the way home, and then you have to drive all the way home through slow, heavy, SUV-intensive rush-hour traffic, etc, etc.

The point is that petty, frustrating crap like this is exactly where the work of choosing comes in. Because the traffic jams and crowded aisles and long checkout lines give me time to think, and if I don't make a conscious decision about how to think and what to pay attention to, I'm going to be pissed and miserable every time I have to food-shop, because my natural default setting is the certainty that situations like this are really all about me, about my hungriness and my fatigue and my desire to just get home, and it's going to seem, for all the world, like everybody else is just in my way, and who are all these people in my way? And look at how repulsive most of them are and how stupid and cow-like and dead-eyed and nonhuman they seem here in the checkout line, or at how annoying and rude it is that people are talking loudly on cell phones in the middle of the line, and look at how deeply unfair this is: I've worked really hard all day and I'm starved and tired and I can't even get home to eat and unwind because of all these stupid goddamn people.

Or if I'm in a more socially conscious form of my default setting, I can spend time in the end-of-the-day traffic jam being angry and disgusted at all the huge, stupid, lane-blocking SUVs and Hummers and V12 pickup trucks burning their wasteful, selfish, 40-gallon tanks of gas, and I can dwell on the fact that the patriotic or religious bumper stickers always seem to be on the biggest, most disgustingly selfish vehicles driven by the ugliest, most inconsiderate and aggressive drivers, who are usually talking on cell phones as they cut people off in order to get just 20 stupid feet ahead in a traffic jam, and I can think about how our children's children will despise us for wasting all the future's fuel and probably screwing up the climate, and how spoiled and stupid and disgusting we all are, and how it all just sucks ...

If I choose to think this way, fine, lots of us do - except that thinking this way tends to be so easy and automatic it doesn't have to be a choice. Thinking this way is my natural default setting. It's the automatic, unconscious way that I experience the boring, frustrating, crowded parts of adult life when I'm operating on the automatic, unconscious belief that I am the centre of the world and that my immediate needs and feelings are what should determine the world's priorities. The thing is that there are obviously different ways to think about these kinds of situations. In this traffic, all these vehicles stuck and idling in my way: it's not impossible that some of these people in SUVs have been in horrible car accidents in the past and now find driving so traumatic that their therapist has all but ordered them to get a huge, heavy SUV so they can feel safe enough to drive; or that the Hummer that just cut me off is maybe being driven by a father whose little child is hurt or sick in the seat next to him, and he's trying to rush to the hospital, and he's in a much bigger, more legitimate hurry than I am - it is actually I who am in his way.

Again, please don't think that I'm giving you moral advice, or that I'm saying you're "supposed to" think this way, or that anyone expects you to just automatically do it, because it's hard, it takes will and mental effort, and if you're like me, some days you won't be able to do it, or you just flat-out won't want to. But most days, if you're aware enough to give yourself a choice, you can choose to look differently at this fat, dead-eyed, over-made-up lady who just screamed at her little child in the checkout line - maybe she's not usually like this; maybe she's been up three straight nights holding the hand of her husband who's dying of bone cancer, or maybe this very lady is the low-wage clerk at the Motor Vehicles Dept who just yesterday helped your spouse resolve a nightmarish red-tape problem through some small act of bureaucratic kindness. Of course, none of this is likely, but it's also not impossible - it just depends on what you want to consider. If you're automatically sure that you know what reality is and who and what is really important - if you want to operate on your default setting - then you, like me, will not consider possibilities that aren't pointless and annoying. But if you've really learned how to think, how to pay attention, then you will know you have other options. It will be within your power to experience a crowded, loud, slow, consumer-hell-type situation as not only meaningful but sacred, on fire with the same force that lit the stars - compassion, love, the sub-surface unity of all things. Not that that mystical stuff's necessarily true: the only thing that's capital-T True is that you get to decide how you're going to try to see it. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't. You get to decide what to worship.

Because here's something else that's true. In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship - be it JC or Allah, be it Yahweh or the Wiccan mother-goddess or the Four Noble Truths or some infrangible set of ethical principles - is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things - if they are where you tap real meaning in life - then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you. On one level, we all know this stuff already - it's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, bromides, epigrams, parables: the skeleton of every great story. The trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness. Worship power - you will feel weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to keep the fear at bay. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart - you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out.

The insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they're evil or sinful; it is that they are unconscious. They are default settings. They're the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that's what you're doing. And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the centre of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the "rat race" - the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.

I know that this stuff probably doesn't sound fun and breezy or grandly inspirational. What it is, so far as I can see, is the truth with a whole lot of rhetorical bullshit pared away. Obviously, you can think of it whatever you wish. But please don't dismiss it as some finger-wagging Dr Laura sermon. None of this is about morality, or religion, or dogma, or big fancy questions of life after death. The capital-T Truth is about life before death. It is about making it to 30, or maybe 50, without wanting to shoot yourself in the head. It is about simple awareness - awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, that we have to keep reminding ourselves, over and over: "This is water, this is water.""
· Adapted from the commencement speech David Foster Wallace (2005) gave to a graduating class at Kenyon College, Ohio

A piece by : Fiya Muiz

Where The Line Should Be Drawn?

In order to seek a breathe of fresh air, I went here. Not exactly knowing what to do or what to say in one non-comprehensive post. Beside me, the study lamp was on, lighting my A4 size narrow-ruled paper which I had been working on for these past couple hours along with the background of ALL TIME LOW'S Straight To DVD tour video, cheering me not to give up in its own way. I might going to come back within a while to finish up half on going essay. Running away here as a brief affair solely to satisfy my human mind. I might able to go out from my room or at least just lying on my bed staring at the bed lamp or something. But to be honest, I have done that these past two days. Thoughts of mine were starting to reach the highest capacity this head may bear. However on the other hand, I was certain this was the closest yet best remedy to skip world for an hour or so. In brief seconds, I could hear my head telling me, this is what I'm going to do for the rest of my life. I am just going to write. Here and there. About anything, everything possible. Although I am not going to say writing this bloody essay is easy! But let's just say that's the art of writing. In the future if I am going to look over my dusty post which sinks with time, I will remember this stupid night between stupid task, stupid 850 words, stupid thoughts, stupid songs, sweet room, sweet town 16 hours away from home, I wrote this. At least if I ever doubt what I want to do some time in the future, I knew at this point I was certain with what I want. And who knows, this might help me. So I'm going to write about anything. Including the best thing about morning is the cereal with fresh milk. The best thing about lunch is thirty minutes talk outside class. The best thing about dinner is I always do not care about the meal as long I am able to eat something. And now, internet is being a douche. They went on and off like the hazard light. Last but not least, today is my grandpa's birthday. Saying now, being away from home has increased the level of appreciation within me. I noticed things more, you see. I like the way he worried about me. I love him and the whole big family! Went on skype earlier today. Had a flash of homesick. Happy birthday, Grandpa!
A piece by : Fiya Muiz

My Hands Were Full On A Second To Waste

I remembered weeks ago, in my small bedroom back in Jakarta, I wrote my heart out. Knowing one thing only; I had to write this down because my heart could not handle, not even another two minutes, enormous feeling towards one normal human being. Today, as I wrote this post, I know, that post would not be on the first page anymore. I shoved it, politely and unintentionally, somewhere else. That easy. 

Unlike when I wrote the secret's out, I was no longer in my apartment -- I sat here alone, sixteen hours flight away from home. Busy building whatever its worth out of what I have now and without knowing anything certain about past, distance and all the other things in between. Perhaps just busy getting wasted.

Life in overall, is too complex. Everything is complex when you live hand in hand with hundred thousands different open minds. The only thing that isn't, is now. I know exactly I am happy with where I am, who I'm with, what I wear, what I drink, what I did last weekend and where I sleep. And even though some of the aspects lies within the complexity, I will always believe, everything  will become a part of now, sometime in the future, where I just know I am one hundred percent certain. 

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz

It's Up to Hope

The relationship between me and this very land is real, I believe. Definition of real itself lies between the contrary of feeling alive along with the joy and headaches. Pleasures been pouring upon my head, hovering around my senses, pulling me into places where the ground is partly genuine. Dancing in the rain, they say. Been walking around, handing over the loneliness to the streets. Wishing it would be easier just to ignore; the stupid feeling, cold weather and that blinking red light aggressively asking for attention. A bit of swearing flutters from the innocent lips, tearing apart the seal, gradually in frequent motion. Freedom of expression, they say. Simply live under the sky instead of laws. That is to say, the majority of air is no longer oxygen, but instead, it's freedom. Freedom with boundaries slowly growing strong between my nerves. Leads to judgement over judgement, impersonating the fragile footsteps on the sand. The existence lasts within one gentle sway from the wind. Independent, shall it be. Giving justice to the word alone, without sounding poetically pity. It is about giving a chance, and wait. The soft pillow silently listens to every restless thoughts as my head lies casually, desperately begging for a break through the long eventful night. Nothing is going to change. No one is going to change. Sun is just a prologue to greet the rest of my duty. And Crabbies is just a ginger beer.

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz

Lesson To Learn

The diversity of people's personality is more or less has the same idea as counting hair. It is nearly impossible to elaborate since it takes ages and patience because hair is pretty much a complicated uncountable thing. To lessen the scoop, there are people who easy to fall in love and easily attached and quickly to forget, and others may just find it hard to fall in love and even harder to letting go or a little combination of both. Since this is not an academic essay, I am allowed to put my opinion here, loud and clear without hiding it behind a general thoughts. This essay about moving on. This is dedicated to all of those who has solid rock heart out there. Thought I might give it a go.

If I have to put myself in the previous context, I might tend to be the one who is not easily attached and find very very very hard to move on. Because I always thought, I fell in love with the perfect guy through his imperfection. He is perfect. I should not let him go; no matter how unreachable he is or no matter how deep he fell in love with another girl. Although, I can hear whisper that I might able to move on somehow, when its time, without knowing tiny bit of a clue. (Yes, because love happens eventually. Whatever.) In the mean time, my heart is possessed by this one guy with no certainty of something in return or blimey, just a simple result. And not giving any chance to let someone else to get in.

In a way, it does not sound right. All those free-spirit goers might want to slap my face immediately. But in the same time, I am (or was) looking to find a way how, unconsciously. And hereby, I found one, among hundreds other way to move on is just simply move. Do not stay wherever you are now. With the surroundings that remind you to this very subject. Move. Anywhere. Find new things. Meet new people. Know the strangers more. We all are begin as a stranger, remember? Change them in to friends, whoever you find comfortable with. Do not stay. I repeat, do not stay. Mooooooooooooooooooove! This time of year is perfect to find new things because school year just barely starts. Smell that? It's the fair chance of opportunities to find something new, everyone!

You would know this without me telling you: at the end, it does not matter you are willing to or not, life always goes on with or without the person you wanted to be with in the current time.  I am not saying I have moved on. I just feel a lot better than before -- regardless the definition of before looked like. However in conclusion, do not even hope to move on if you still in the same surrounding, with faces and places that always remind you. Start fresh. Go and explore! You have no idea how much world can offer! All we need to do is begin with a small step and a simple will!

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz

All The Way Down South

I'm in England, at last! Going to be here for the next 10 months for Foundation course, then followed by university another 3 years. Am in my third week, this week. The first week was not good. Being here, is part of my dream I shall say. And when it gets really real, it feels weird. Mostly because I have to get through the adjustment to the daily environment, and the culture!

Screw adjustment I know, but it happens!

Bournemouth is beautiful. Decent parks, awesome piers, and most of all, I fancy the beach a lot! There are two majorities of age in this town. Elder people and university students. A bit of a contrast, but fair play to them. The culture is definitely different compare to Jakarta. Shouting out loud by the streets is somehow familiar during weekends. I tell you why later, but in terms of public transport, way better than TransJakarta, I'm sorry but it's true.

I go to school with bus everyday. Which unlikely happens if I am in Jakarta. I walk around town centre on foot, obviously, where mostly everything is here. And I live 3 minutes away from the town centre. But, there is a big but, the shops closed at 6. Bummer!

Then weekends, it's all about pub and clubs (this explain the shouting issues). It doesn't have to be weekend though, there are few weekdays, pubs and clubs offering many offers, shall I say in a proper context! :) There is no mall! ..pretty much. So, the only cool place to run to during weekend, is definitely the pub with friends!

Going on to the further points. It's about the college. The college; teachers, classmates, and classes are okay! I always paying attention during the class. Only it is quite hard to push myself opening books after school! Like always anyway. Still on the way to process myself to be more self-dicipline!

The weather is like guys these days, pretty much unpredictable. Here in Bournemouth, we can have three different season in one day. Bright and sunny in the morning, cloudy by the afternoon, and freezing cold during the evening. And the next day? We will see.

Personally, I would say, the reason I enjoyed whatever it is in Bournemouth definitely because the people I am spending time with. The people I am with during every small excursion around Bournemouth. Little by little, I understand this place and starting to grow on me.

It also the reason I made through the storm as in homesick. It took me a while to get to the point where I finally having a grip to hold on.  Because I never thought what I had, was not certain. It was definitely not portable. I was relying on my surrounding a little bit too much, perhaps.

Grip, is like trust, I believe. More likely need to be earned by giving out efforts. Building the construction, finding out the right materials. It was very awful to feel alone and as a stranger in the same time. But now, I have grown genuine fond on some of the most interesting people I have ever known in my life. And they are from different part of the world! German, Japan, China, Nigeria, Ukraine, Brazil, Turkey and also last but not least, Indonesia! I am just simply glad knowing them.

I will update more with pictures of my friends and the story as well, soon!


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A piece by : Fiya Muiz


Homesick; an awful feeling that I thought would never exist. Homesick happens to everybody who leaves their hometown regardless the reason. Homesick is currently cureless. Not even The Cure can heal it. There is one medicine that able to ease the pain gradually. It's called time. Where and how to get it? through wait. Wait is more like British arrogance -- plainly annoying. Some people can't  handle waiting. But eventually everyone has to. Because once you get through of waiting, pleasures are right in front of you.

"Life continually evolves. We're always moving, moving into new experiences, new possibilities. This constant change unsettles the personality, which finds security in stability. But with life always in flux, that security is an illusion. We experience pain by trying to hold on to things that are not solid.

Life becomes joyful when we can open to the constant flow and ride freely with it. This requires us to let go of the need to control. We need to learn to trust.

-- John Robson"

A piece by : Fiya Muiz

Band Edition: Meet Me By Sunrise

It has been quite cloudy throughout Jakarta's music scene lately, the usual weekend gig that I used to attend had lost its existence between the radar. But among the minor crowds, this band managed to popped out to the public eye-sight. And mine's especially -- I cannot help to write about them. Speaking of the devil, it's Meet Me By Sunrise. First of many, I personally have to give big kudos for whoever came up with the name. Meet Me By Sunrise. It's not too cliche, not too band name-ish, not too much; it's simple, precise and it's there. As soon you read or hear the name, there's a chime of hope, you know this going to be good. And  yes, they are worth to listen. 

This band consist of four young boys, simultaneously giving such a fresh soul into their music. Lan Alexander on  vocal/guitar, has this Gaskarth-like kind of voice, where you just know he owns the right to sing. He has the voice that qualified to be ears' best friend. On guitar/synths/keys/vocal/pretty-much-everything-here-there-a-bit, there's the multi-talented Dion Andrew; his skill is surely undoubted when his fingers know what to do to create such a great outcome of rhythm, based on my judgement on MMBS TV -- a youtube video where they record their routines on camera. The third member on bass/vocal, is Christophe Renato, slapping the thick bass strings daringly, adding the blast deep volume hand in hand with the guitar; hey, song wouldn't sound complete without bass -- as a fellow bassist speaking. Last but not least, Diandra Indrabayu on drums, let alone the loud beat, the drums sure has the good deal of role on giving more air to the songs as it breathe and sounded more alive.

Little more details regarding their songs, for all All Time Low/Simple Plan/The Downtown Fiction die hard fans out there, I can assure you, you are going to love Meet Me By Sunrise. Sound of power pop with touch of rock & semi-acoustic is their thing. For the lyrics, it is very easy to relate, young love,  disappointing heartbreak; ear-catching phrases, definitely not crappy ass quality. My personal favorite song would Frankly My Dear, I Don't Give A Damn. But as I listen to their tracks these past hours, I have got to say it is kind of hard to decide, they are all good! Jakarta (Never Looked So Good) makes me want to go out on late-drive around town and watch the skyline. And man, "I hope you'd die in a car crash baby" phrase from Hanging On A Wake Up Call just would not get out of my head. Only Stars sounded less appealing than the others, maybe because the others are pretty much contains more content than this one. 

Fair to say, go and take a look for yourself, their live performance. And what are the odds, they are about to release their EP in three weeks! October 15th. Too bad I can't make it as I'm leaving this town within a week.. Anyway, details on their facebook or follow their official band twitter, make sure you are not going to miss it! And maybe, if you would like to booked them on events, please do not hesitate to contact them through their facebook, they seemed nice! Better yet, interested to signed them? They would be a phone call away. All and all, so glad to have them as local band   x

A piece by : Fiya Muiz

You Say Good Morning When It's Midnight

I was trying to figure out why the hell I stayed up most of the night; I thought I was waiting, but I was not. I guess I was trying to find comfort in repetition through song. Maybe I was trying to find something. Answers, perhaps. Somewhere. Or maybe I was trying to make a history. Conquering the time difference. Or, I just wanted be listened. This, whispers few minutes to midnight.

11: 56 P.M

Common knowledge taught me, based in some stories, you were the worst version of yourself during midnight (without additional favor from liquors). Worst as in impulsively free. As in, honest. Where secrets and truths may slip here and there. Which bring me in certain awareness, less chance of midnight declaring lies. Am I the only one who noticed  how fine midnight is?

Maybe it was because the sun, keeping our muscle too tense and mind too sane through its bright lights. Too sane to qualify the worst when we were being honest. As the level of tolerance towards the reality had decrease to the lowest point, raised the voice "I do not give a shit." out loud.

Maybe our body has running out of liquid to neutralize the raging hormones. Maybe our head has reached the maximum capacity to bare with memories. But between regrets, guilts and blame, lies the innocent part of feeling relief. Probably during midnight only, a person can express decent outcome with enough guts that hardly achieve when the sky is blue.

I hope I won't regret this post in the morning.

12:36 A.M

Oh, wait. Now I know what I was doing this whole time. I think I was hoping to see a respond. I think my head had secretly told my body to stay awake, messing with the proper bedtime, to assume I was awake for nothing. When nothing is not particularly nothing -- there's a little bit of everything hidden behind it. I think it was common to wait for something after you spill half of your guts in paragraphs.

P.S: so, if you read this, please let me know.

1:08 A.M

Yeah. That's it. Good night.

1:18 A.M

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1:41 A.M
A piece by : Fiya Muiz

Sleep It Off, My Dear.

Tonight is not the first night I had questions. Questions, not doubt. There is a thin line lies in between them. And I would rather call it question. Doubt has the odd sensation of negativity, somehow. You know the sudden heat trembling all over your body then it intensifies around your head like something is wrong; as if it sends signal to your brain to believe everything is just wrong. When it is not. It is not, believe me. Especially during late night. I am almost certain, you should believe anyone else beside yourself during midnight. It is commonly judged as the hour when thoughts are running wild out of sense.

Thus, bad thought(s) is one of the deadly enemy of mine. Most of the time I let it controls me. Running along delightfully as if my head is a play ground. I nearly lost it earlier, or maybe I did for a couple seconds, but I managed to keep everything on the right track. Am trying. It is just part of the mind's play, you see. All classic and pretentiously arrogant, Shakespeare fail impostor. Telling heavy things weighing you down low while they are the one that got it wrong. Because good things are high, not low. You have to reach out for it. And also because God always on watch. And will always be ready with anything if we require something. I know, I know, it's sounds like a cheesy cheese stick with overrated cliche-ness. But really. You should hang on with whatever your faith is. If you do not have one, please, please, go and find one. It is necessary at the time like this. When you are.. vulnerable.

So, if you are currently going through something that happens to have a slight chance to bother your mind, listen to me, everything is alright. Or if you insist it is not, then it will be. It always be. Just sleep it off, and see what's the morning got for you. Maybe something more than a toast bread and coffee for breakfast.

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz

Half Way

'So when shall I see you again?' I could not withstand the question any longer along with the rush of worry that had been attacking my head from feeling secure since the first second I was aware he'd be leaving this town in three days.
He barely reached the bench from the game, looking tired, sitting next to me. I could not even wait a couple seconds after he finished drinking half the bottle of water. He took a deep breath, followed with an exhale which sounded like sigh. I lean my body forward, putting my best attention towards him as I could read he was about to speak.
'Someday, soon.' he answered briefly.
'Where?' asked me again hiding my agitation under my voice. It would not need a genius to figure out that we both were heading to two different side of the world for quite a long while. The idea of being apart alone, had lost me ounces of sleep.
He paused for a moment as if he was catching his breath again, but his eyes seem wander off under the bright sun. In patience I waited, 'Half way.' he said lightly yet very vivid. His eyes had stopped wandering. His stare was found as our eyes met. That puts me in silence. A moment of toxin-free, set me on quaint ease while I was staggering at the edge of my seat. Without knowing where half way was, I nodded in agreement. I never heard something unknown sounded very certain in my ear. I softly repeat, 'Half way it is.'
A piece by : Fiya Muiz

They Say It Changes When The Sun Goes Down

I think I am mad. Mad at the situation. Situation I despise. Mad at the solitude. Solitude that brings too many thoughts around. Mad at everything without someone to blame -- not that I intended to blame anyone; but having the idea of having someone to blame just clarified I am not wrong. Mad at these sleepy eyes. But instead of sleeping, I force myself to do anything but sleep as if I enjoy a bit of competition. Mad at this empty box because I can not get my fingers to write anything due to the over-annoying mind of mine that unable to stay put. Mad at the silence over the phone. Mad at the expectation. Mad because I can not yet cope with facts. Mad at mostly everything which covered the goods. Mad at these days habit that does not make any sense to me. Mad because tomorrow is Monday and I have to wake up early. Mad for being weak and let mad taking control of me. Mad because I can not make me stop saying mad and keeping my head cool. Mad because I am suppose to be cheerful and all that. Mad because I often forget I actually am happy. Mad because honestly, everything is alright, so why bother mourning? And mad because I should have post something jolly and right. This is not wrong though, in my defense, because I can not and won't write anything against what's going through my head the very second I write it down. I know things are not that bad. Maybe things are not bad at all. I know, by the end of this post I will feel much better than before when I started it.

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz

One Day

I like most of the books that I read. I read most of the book. It only takes a recommendation away to get me read a novel. But if I am on the situation where I have no references, the book I would take from the shelf at the book store would be something like One Day by David Nicholls. I can not deny the certain attraction between me and love stories. Any kind love stories. I would like it better if I can relate to the story. But I believe, every published author has the qualification to make the readers feel like they are involved in the story.
One Day is about friendship of a boy and a girl, Emma and Dexter, that just met on their last night in University; graduation party to be exact, then the friendship evolves in twenty years time. Simple. But the thing about book is.. the details. Just like Oprah once said, 'Love is in the details.' The thing that visual frame can not initially explain. I like the way Nicholls explain how each of the main characters speaks inside their mind. Unspoken thoughts carry through pages after pages, then the ending. The story goes better and better as it lead to the last page. Since this book written in a concept where telling what happened on the same date every year, for twenty years, so we can see the changes in their life across ages and phases.
Funny you may say, after a couple of weeks after I bought the book, turns out the movie version of this book is about to come in cinemas near you. Anne Hathaway as Emma, and that bloody hot English actor, Jim Sturgess as Dexter. Stoked to see the visualization of the book!
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A piece by : Fiya Muiz

"The Idea Of Life Without Him Is Unimaginable."

Two things:

  1. I have changed my blog header to "What I Know About Now" As it refers to the fact that the only thing I am most assured about, is now.This blog will contain everything and anything regarding what is happening currently. With my head, my mood, my surrounding. Because honestly, all we know is only now. Before it evolves into past, and future is still remaining a secret. What I know about now is.. Something related with fast heart beat, butterflies and being... found. Yeah, go figure
  2. I just watched a movie called Something Borrowed; adapted from a book by Emily Griffin. Here is the link for the trailer, go on have a quick look. It cost tears more than it looks, I gotta say. And if I have to pick a lesson out of it, I would say: say it now before it gets complicated and a little too late.

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz

Three Cheers For Ten Years

I should've write something about Harry Potter. But after three times I have watched the movie, still, I can not seem able to pull everything together. The pieces of truth, I have just witnessed the last Harry Potter movie. The end of Harry Potter story. Everything, is highly emotional. As the Harry Potter and Deathly Hallows Part II launched, I believe everyone deserve to be a little sentimental on July.

What can I say? Harry Potter plotted half of my life. I would not have a proper childhood without Harry Potter. For these past ten years, Harry always been the hero for the land beyond my imagination. The president of my childhood fantasy. If Harry Potter never been written, I would not be who I am now, madly in love with Britain. I know Harry will always live within our memories but it is just simply difficult to accept there will be no Harry Potter coming up on the screen nor paragraphs.

Harry's influence drove me deeply into the hysteria back then. Around summer 2002, I decided to join Harry Potter camp. For several days, I stayed in a big house with massive yard assuming it was "Hogwarts" following every and all the wizardry activities. I got through the sorting hat, Potions, Charm, Herbology, Transfiguration classes and Quidditch without broomstick. On the last day, each house had to perform a short drama; and I was chosen to play Hermione. I know, I know, awkward. But if I had to write an unforgettable moment essay while I was in the elementary school, that was it. For the whole year long.

Since then, Harry Potter always been a part of me. You know how Harry Potter is. There is no necessarily need for further endearment. Each person has their own definition and stories regarding Harry Potter. Thus, Harry Potter will always own a place in everyone's heart, somehow.

In conclusion, thank you God for giving J.K Rowling's such magical mind, thank you British environment for raising such talent and thank you for the fellow directors in film industry for bringing it up alive, visually. Thank you, Daniel, Rupert and Emma, for giving more soul to the characters flawlessly. And last but definitely not least, thank you, J.K Rowling, for everything, in literal meaning. For writing the book. For each sentence building every paragraphs. For coloring my childhood.

So long, Harry!

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz