The Past

These Songs Remind Me of You

Aren't we all just a hopeless romantic for songs that gets our hands dancing, tiptoeing across keyboard? Here are the two songs I recently stumbled upon, perhaps out of fate, just like you and I, and of course the algorithm-genius mind behind Spotify Discover playlist. I hope this will light up the bulb above your head for whatever it is worth.

I promise I will write you again soon amidst all the pandemonium.




♫ Movie in My Mind - Saint Raymond 

This song reminds me of: heartache. When you sit by the window on your journey back from an unexpected encounter with the Old Love. The trees seems like in a fast forward motion and the sky bleeds orange. Everything moves too fast, like his hands on hers, and life almost feels like it starts to slip off your hand.


Your the words on my tongue to my favourite song,
You're the first and the last oh when all's said and done,
You're the movie in my mind to which I know every line,
In all these things I do, all I see is you.




♫ Camp Adventure - Delta Sleep 

This song reminds me of: a movie reel about separation of young love. A sephia-toned film with burnt edges, a smiling face, shyly hiding behind the palm of their hands. Freshly cut grass that seems so distant. Summer at the park when the sun never sets. A sigh in between moments, knowing once again you are back to the past.

And forget all the
Bricks we've laid into this path
Yet the house remains undone
Flooding at every cloud
And withering in the sun
How's one meant to grow when walls keep caving in?
A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Won't You Understand?

It's getting boring, repeating the story of these little monkey voices inside my head every time I began writing. I can feel a million things at the same moment; weary eyes, wanting to shut after working almost over 10 hours every day, and by the time I managed to get home earlier to write, my eyes demand an early sleep, and without a doubt it would win. It gets temperamental sometimes, the voices. Singing, you'd better get this right. I don't care whether or not you know what to write. I don't give a shit. You just need to write, and write beautifully otherwise I will be disappointed in you. Like I have been for so long when you've been saying you wanted to write every single day but you never did. Write something nice, like you did back then. It does not have to be big. Just something. Just something else beside your hatred towards me. I can't. I can't. I can't. I don't have anything to write. I don't have anything good to write. I don't even have a topic that I can write. I can only write about you. Full of disappointment. Full of embarrassment. The incapabilities. Won't you understand?

 
A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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February Twenty Fifth

I have approximately 10 more minutes to finish this up.

My feet are cold. I set the temperature three degree colder than the normal days. I don't know why. Or I know. I just want an excuse to wear my fluffy pink robes I bought for £2 at a charity shop in England. I'd pretend I have to wear socks, which in the morning it would be mysteriously taken off by my sleeping-self because honestly, it isn't that cold.

I also promise myself, among so many other things, to have an eight hour sleep every night because otherwise, my brain is going mad. That's why I only have 10 minutes, and now 7 or less. It is closer to midnight. And I have got a long list of errands to do tomorrow and by thinking of it, makes me sick. I have not had a quiet, lazy weekend in a while.

Even though when I have one, I know I wouldn't appreciate it as much. I'd probably waste it all away for binge watching stupid TV shows, and claiming on Monday that I hadn't had a proper weekend. I am way too human in that perspective.

I want to read all day. I realised I have bought too many books that would be more than enough to read for the whole Summer. Except, I don't have Summer. Indonesia does not have Summer. It is always Summer. Therefore, Summer is not Summer. It has lost its beauty and meaning. Because it does not have Fall nor Winter. And also, office doesn't do Summer. There is no Summer anymore.

I thought my worst fear was darkness, or weird smelly insects, or reverse-culture shock. But what scares me the most now is I am so afraid of losing myself.

Because it feels like I am.




A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Putih



Pagi itu hujan. Aku sayup-sayup mendengar dari jendela kamar ditengah tidurku. Pagi itu juga, tidak lama setelah hujan reda dan akhirnya berhenti, aku mendapat kabar Kakek telah tiada.

Aku sedang duduk di dekat balkon, melihat Jakarta yang basah dari lantai 17 apartemen. Rasanya seperti mimpi. Adikku duduk di sofa, setengah linglung sambil memegang handphone di tangannya yang baru saja terdengar isak tangis kecil dari Ibu di ujung telfon.

Bukan mimpi indah atau buruk. Hanya seperti, kamu tahu, sesuatu yang tidak nyata. Coba dengarkan lagu Efek Rumah Kaca, judulnya "Putih". Aku tidak bisa bicara banyak, namun, jika kamu berkenan, coba dengarkan lagu itu. Itu bagaimana rasanya pagi itu.

Usai. Cerita Kakek sudah usai. Namun, hasil cerita sepanjang perjalanannya telah menyentuh banyak orang, terpampang jelas dari jumlah karangan bunga yang sudah memenuhi pekarangan dan jalan di sekitar rumah Nenek dan Kakek di Pejaten ketika aku datang dengan terburu-buru.

Walaupun tidak mudah menggabarkan apa yang ku lihat pada saat itu, tapi kurang lebih, jika aku harus, aku akan menggunakan satu analogi: dulu, ketika aku melihat kelompok musik favoritku, Timmy pernah bilang, bahwa aku, dan ratusan penonton lainnya, terlihat sangat tenang menikmati alunan lagu. Aku tidak tahu jelas apa maksud Timmy, tapi pada saat itu, sepertinya aku bisa mengerti. Ya, aku pikir, hanya pada saat seseorang penggemar melihat kelompok musik favoritnya, seseorang akan terlihat tenang.

Pagi itu, saat kami sekeluarga membasuh Beliau sebelum ke peristirahatan terakhirnya, aku baru pertama kali melihat seseorang tampak benar-benar tenang dan damai.




Malam ini hujan turun lagi.





Selamat jalan, Kakek tersayang.
A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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I Thought I'd Be Asleep By Now


2016


If 2015 was the year of Shock and Denial, 2016 was the year of Adapting. Sure one year felt long, but short at the same time, because until today, it is still difficult to say I am swell settling back into this City of Madness. But I am so many steps closer to wherever I needed to be.

Adapting can take in many forms. Building myriad routines from getting a job, joining a gym membership, and starting a relationship are a few of them. But most of all, the approach that seemed most effective to me was, finding love through Indonesian arts and literature.

In 2016, I have read more Indonesian books than I have ever did in my entire life. Hujan Bulan Juni, Kukila, Melihat Api Bekerja, Tidak Ada New York Hari Ini, Cantik Itu Luka, Malam Ini Aku Tidur di Matamu, Milana, Perjalanan, Cinta dan Makna Perempuan are on the top list.

Around August, marking the first year I landed in Jakarta, my laptop decided to fall out. Resulting an immediate repair on its hard disk where I stored most of my data, including list of songs on iTunes. Due to the unexpected timing and lack of routine backup habit, I had to begin again.

Now, there are mostly Indonesians songs in my Playlist. From Payung Teduh, Sore to Kelompok Penerbang Roket were the ones that accompanied me through the 9-to-5 day in and day out routine. I must say, I enjoyed it more than I imagined.

I once engaged into a current political conversation with a friend of mine about the upcoming governor election, and gave an extensive answer for it. He seemed surprised and said, "Look at you now, settling back into what's happening to our country." I went silent. Perhaps it was a sign of having an emotional relationship towards something.

Perhaps I gave zero shit then, but I picked up several along the way when I started working and built this habit of opening the Jakarta Post website first thing at the office and enrichment during lunch table conversations. It is not easy not to develop certain tendency towards one side when most of the people out there are unfathomably ignorant.

Well, I am here, you are there, breathing, loved, and have access to internet. So, despite all the political chaos happening all around the world, I suppose 2016 has been alright. Now it's 2017 we shall be worried (I meant, excited) about.

I will see you soon. Hopefully with exciting news.
A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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