Alifia — You, Me and Five Bucks

2014

I have got to say that New Year is a slightly better version of birthday because 1) everybody celebrates, so imagine the whole world is drinking with you, raising the glass or any other kind for a toast to better days to come 2) it is far more concrete and obvious as the number of year changed on printed or digital calendar, we would be constantly and universally reminded that it is the new year, and you are not getting any younger; this is it, the time for you to do things you have been wanting, waiting to do. Or at least, to take a step closer.

As per usual, new year is always a good time to see things retrospectively of what you have or have not learned over the period of 365 days. This is perhaps the only time that looking back can have some sort of beneficial aspect rather than dragging me into a melancholy nostalgia abyss. Although, it is hard to believe that it has been a year since the last post of how I spent the last day of 2013 by the Bournemouth Pier. Now, another cheesy gratitude post marking the last day of the year is here, again.

To begin, it's funny how I have always wanted to say that this past two years has been "maturity" years for me, where I believe I have gained so many experiences that I can learn, or at least understand, out of it. Maturity also in the sense that I am slowly able to say I am ready to make sense of the non-sense of this world little by little. That each year, I am becoming less and less afraid of tomorrow. Still scared, but less. And in the strangest sense, I am actually looking forward for the next second, days, months from now.

Okay, so.

The greatest thing about 2014 was definitely the Summer. I spent the whole summer in England since I thought it would be best to do my internships here instead of at home and yes, it was one of the best decisions I have made. You should have seen Bournemouth beach in the Summer, I swear it was beautiful. And London, too. Nevertheless, it was not just the pretty English view, but the people I got to work with were such inspirations - the kids and fellow practitioners in Haringey, the Bournemouth Emerging Art Festival team. They, even though we met only as brief as the sunny season, had shaped me into a better person and keep that burning candle of passion in me to stay lighted.

I had shitty days, too. Which I suppose what made the good days were worth to feel for. There were days where I cried harder than a baby, days where I wished I could have done better or at least, could have done something. There were other decisions that I thought was stupid, hell, perhaps there were more small decisions that I thought was a mistake - mostly in relationships, but one leap of good news, I managed to let go and move on from someone that I had been struggling to forget over the past one year and a half and it felt great. And fortunately, I have had the pleasure to meet other attractive individuals that were not less than unique and beautiful and had brief adventures in first date raced heartbeats, Brooklyn and long nights.

What I also have learned, I am terrible keeping up with list of resolutions. I figure it may be best just to state no more than three points in my journal to occasionally check just in case if life is getting off the tangent. Or maybe, just one line - create stories as many as possible. I realised that 2015 will the last official year I have left to spend in Bournemouth (fingers crossed) and I'd only be twenty two in England once, so, everything is rather self-explanatory. Although, I must say this give me tingly mixed feelings. On one hand, I would like to freak out and weep knowing I am counting down the days waking up ten minutes away from British coast, but on the other hand, I feel it is time for new adventure.

Ah. This makes me feel giddy.

However, I shall end this post with a playlist of Wish I Was Here soundtrack for you to listen and enjoy for the next hour or so. You could try to write your own retrospective of how 2014 had been for you, too, if you please. I genuinely hope you had an amazing year, give yourself a pat on the back for getting through this year and may you have even better year in 2015. 'Cause trust me, you will.

Here's to a great year ahead. I shall see you next year!

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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For Him, Beach House by Thirty

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For him, beach house by 30

I used to love the idea of loving him, so dearly to the core of my organs. Beating like a heart, natural and simple, like breathing. I used to admire the idea of him, of us: two people that have not seen each other in a very long time but thought of each other in between the time difference and geographical sequence. The way words were flown easy in safe distant conversations, hopes and dreams of having a beach house by the time he turns thirty, shaping an almost perfect prose for a poetry. A story of him and me: all the way from the swings when we barely be, small hands and lousy hair cuts to adulthood - coffee shops and cinema seats. I used to love how pretty the idea of him, like a daydream, 'til his mouth flutters the dirtiest words that even brush unable to clean, because there is no dust, only lust. Now everything is like the wind that sends shiver between my thighs. Drop of water on a golden-coated pipe, wet, inches away from corrosion. I now no longer sure to love the idea of him, as the innocence of make-believe upon the gentleness of his great self melted along with his sweat, my sweat, and panting breath. All the child-like smile has rested in peace as the ravens claim all there is, is just fuck to give.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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The Safest Place

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Have you ever felt this kind of feeling where everything is at peace, so serene and balanced, you do not want it to end so it feels like you have to run as fast as you could, somewhere to keep it safe, because it feels as if it is slowly slipping away like sand between the gap of your fingers? You want it to stay, a little bit longer, longer than now or forever. You have to run somewhere, if you could know a place where you can keep whatever this is, safe. Safer than locks. Then, you would think the safest place is here. Not under your bed or your memory, but here, in words. The safest, closest place you can think of is in writing, cause you might forget elsewhere. But by the time the space bar stops and blinks, the curves of alphabets stand still in line, the moment's gone. The feeling has gone. All that is left is hope, when you come back, you would still remember how it feels. Just like water that you can never hold, only to be seen and touched.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Best of 2014: The Other Side of Heartbreak is Wisdom

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Best film, artist and book of 2014.

Wish I Was Here (2014)

Maybe this movie catches me in my fragile mood, but boy, I enjoyed this film thoroughly. I had to watch it twice two days in a row just to double check whether what I felt was right. This film reminds me that I would be a terrible film critic because as much as I wanted to be critical, I would not be able to set aside my own opinion of how I felt towards the film I loved personally. Wish I Was Here covers the all kinds of complex and complicated yet intimate family relationship through real-life situation issues - father and son, in laws, siblings, death and dreams. I always thought film that has the element of death is cheating the audience and other films because everything that relates to it, would always be sentimental and tear-jerker. And I often set the bar of a great film through whether or not it plays with my emotions and make me cry. And this film surely did make me cry harder than a baby.

Wish I Was Here is definitely a winner of both, in every aspects. The only concern surfaced when I watched Garden State afterwards, Zach Braff's previously directed film in 2004, there were many factors even the way the scene was shot resembled the Garden State's exterior content, which lessened the idea of Wish I Was Here originality. However, Wish I Was Here definitely in a much more matured version, far less cheesy dialogues that in my opinion hit me on the head, or heart for this matter. There were so many lines I would like to note down and put it up as a screen saver - one of it was the title of this post. I again, personally hate to discover film that is so good too late - it's never too late though, but the sooner I know I would feel better. So, in my humblest opinion, I recommend you to go ahead and see this film if you haven't, I wish you would find it as joyful as I did.

Hozier - Hozier (2014)

You know, that kind of feeling where sometimes when you find a new artist that is so good you kind of wish that you could keep him all for yourself, but at the same time you would want the world to know how great he is so you are kind of perplexed and unsure how to take this whole mesmerising moment. This kind of how I find Hozier. I, or everybody, can tell that he is on his way to the highway of fame as an instance, he just was invited to perform in Victoria Secret's London show. His single Take Me To Church is being played everywhere - radios, even hip youngsters shop such as Topshop and Urban Outfitters, which may come across overrated to certain extent but honestly those who cannot see beyond the lover's humour, definitely going to miss a lot. I actually discovered more of his god gracious-given talent in his other songs such as From Eden and Work Song. I'd have to say he is the best artist of 2014 'cause his songs works just as magical as a cup of tea at home after a long, tiring day.

The Hottest State (1996)

I found this book randomly at a secondhand bookshop in Boscombe that I fell in love immediately since the moment I walked in. And it brought me to Ethan Hawke's debut novel, The Hottest State, so this must be fate. This book was published in 1996, but I just read it this Fall. So, I'd still count it as one of the best books I read in 2014. Regardless, Ethan Hawke is another actor that just surprised me with his multi talents as if he wants to intimidate every soul in this planet not just with his piercing blue eyes, but with his words, too. The story of the book is fairly simple, when a young man in his 20s falls helplessly and passionately in love with a woman. There is not particular major life events or drama plotted throughout the book, but in its simplicity lies the beauty of honest feelings, as if the readers can also feel the young burning love the main character is feeling. This book would definitely be a good company for a light reading on a train or coach journey.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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The Second Love

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Everyone always remember their first love, how naive or beautiful, or hurtful it was. But little did they know, first love is a prototype, an unshaped clay that it still far from perfect. Of course, a different kind of perfect. The more mature, rich kind of love starts to develop on the second love -

Did you remember how was your second love looked like? Mine was an awkward tall boy with black framed glasses and braces. Someone that I would have not thought even perhaps in my seventeen year old wildest dream to fall head over heels with. But boy, the unexpected ones are always the greatest kind.

His name was Toby, the typical far too laid back almost to the extent of an acute laziness boy that sat next to me throughout my senior year in high school. As being a part of the socially-driven teenage groups, I listened to rumors as if it was the soundtrack of teenage life drama. I did not have the best first impression of him without particularly understand why. After his absence on the first week of 11th Grade, each day, slowly he proven me wrong that he was not as terrible as I, or the rest of the people, thought he would be.

Frequent interactions in pair or group discussion led to small conversations that turned into a snowball. One day, I found him alone in class, eyes focused on his phone while the rest of the class were having lunch break. I had not seen him so captivated on something as if it was a pot of gold. "What's so interesting?" I asked to fill in the rough sound of heavy rain from the outside. He looked up from his phone, mending his glasses that slightly slide off his flat nose. It turned out that he was observing a photo of his then-current crush with eyes beaming in young love.

Time stretched and nobody was back from the break just yet, we had the room for ourselves and our conversation carried on into the glittering future that then seemed so promising. He told me that he would consider to marry her when he is ready - this, bearing in mind, coming from someone that was barely seventeen. My farthest worry then would be getting through the long winding third period of sociology class and he already thought of someone that he would like to marry.

I was immensely surprised and impressed, that was perhaps the first stepping stone into a whole lot deeper affection-building in the following months that I had no clue I would ever, developed towards him. It was funny wasn't it, I began to grow fond of him through his way of admiring other girl. I could not decide whether this ironic or I was plainly a fool. Somehow, our circle of friends grew closer and overlapped, we often hang out with mutual friends in so many occasions over the weekend and after school, which meant more time I got to observe him more in small things that made me come to realisation that he could be the guy I wanted to marry.

But as any of my kind of story, the twist came along soon after I difficultly admitted to myself that I was indeed, falling for him. He had to leave the city - not just the city, but the country, with twelve hours difference, for undetermined period of time. Had was not the right word, he wanted to leave the city and pursue his dream to have better future in the States. I was crushed. Even then, crushed was honestly an understatement. Devastated, perhaps. And there was not much that I could do but to feel happy for his bold decision.

Nobody seen it coming. He mentioned it in conversations over moonlit cigarette, but none of us were ever taken it seriously. He did not even tell his friends less than two weeks before his flight. He said wanted to play mysterious, but I knew he just hated goodbye and love to surprise, which even as much as I despised his guts, it was hard not to fall for him more. Soon after his departure, I realised he taught me much greater lesson, that I was never been ever so inspired to strive more in life, that future was not confined in a geographical boundaries, to finally able to see my dream as a plan. I thought, if he could do it, why could not I?

I wish I could tell you more sappy stories how he held my hand and I felt an electrifying current at his fingertips, the way the world stopped when he finally told me that he loved me in return, but it never happened. I fell in love with his stories, the way life shaped him into who he was. An amazing person with a great sense of determination and humour, too. I wished I could tell him these, but it was never the right time and now, it was far too late. All I could say, on the second love I've had, I was taught how to dream big.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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I Have Seen

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I have seen the world - I have seen the world through the eyes of the lost and confused minds, from the lips of half strangers, in the warmth and coldness of seasons, in the nervous giggles of first dates, in the feeling of missing home. I have seen the world through white lies, false hopes and empty promises from the ones you thought never would. At the same time, I have seen the world in the acceptance of unfamiliarity, in the understanding of faux-idealism. I have seen love in the shyness of giving compliments, in little reminder of the little things. I have seen life in quiet sips of cold beers and acoustic guitar, in three a.m decisions. I have seen small death at the end of a relationship when two hands parted, not to be reunited. I've seen beauty in what is flawed, crooked smile and freckles. I've seen ugliness in the perfection. I have seen kindness and gentleness in the arms of tattooed man. I have seen many different and new things these past few years - now I am seeing the world in the way I have never seen before, and it's beautiful.