Rambling about books

Book review: The Sudden Appearance of Hope, by Claire North

My name is Hope Arden, and you won’t know who I am. But we’ve met before-a thousand times.
It started when I was sixteen years old.
A father forgetting to drive me to school. A mother setting the table for three, not four. A friend who looks at me and sees a stranger.
No matter what I do, the words I say, the crimes I commit, you will never remember who I am.
That makes my life difficult. It also makes me dangerous. Goodreads

Continue reading “Book review: The Sudden Appearance of Hope, by Claire North”

things you may not want to know but i'm telling you anyway

Measuring the immeasurable

 

How do you know that someone cares for you?

That someone loves you to the moon and back, or so the saying goes?

That someone would catch a grenade for you? Or maybe only Bruno would do that for you?

Do you have some sort of note where you can measure in numbers to tell you that this particular person cares for you, and the other person doesn’t because their number just is not enough?

Do you have some sort of guidelines with clear cut definition on what is it that someone must do for them to be understood as caring and loving towards you? Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t.

But, can love and caring be measured? I don’t know.

I have some sort of definition in my head on which I refer to when I think of the people I know. There are those that I think caring and loving, and then there are those that I would label “proceed with caution” whenever I met them.

Continue reading “Measuring the immeasurable”

Impromptu writing

Temp.

Everything is temporary. My health, my joy, my sorrow, my money, and my life. Nothing ever lasts forever. But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?

If anything, it makes it harder to go by.

Knowing that my sorrow is temporary, I focus too much on when it will all blow over, forgetting the important lessons offered by my sorrow.

Knowing that my health is temporary, I worry too much on every step I take that I forgot to enjoy what I have. Then I chastise myself, only to take my health for granted, for what good is a good health if you can’t make the best of it.

Knowing my joy is temporary, I am much too preoccupied at being angry at why I can’t always be happy.

Knowing that the money I owned is temporary, I scrutinized all my spending only to be tired of it all and just spend it so long as I have the means to do so.

Knowing my life is temporary, I pretend like I don’t care but the thought plague my mind ever since.

So, nothing is really forever?

Fear not, for the cycle of stupidity is forever. One man down, another is ready to continue the cycle of stupidity until the world comes to its end.

Maybe.

Who knows?

I sure don’t.


A/N. Impromptu writing is written without a plan at hand by continuously typing the things that crosses one’s mind. It was not meant to be understood, it is a practice for the mind when everything seems so clustered that one cannot control one’s own train of thoughts.

This one is written with Basic Tape’s No Matter playing in the background.

Impromptu writing

Selfish through and through.

He said I’m selfish,

and I would smirk.

She said I’m selfish,

and that’s because I was never her priority to begin with.

She said I’m selfish,

and I really don’t care.

He said they are all selfish,

and that’s because he’s just always angry.

I think I am selfish,

but not because he said I was selfish.

I believe I am selfish,

but not because she told me so.

I am sure I am selfish,

but not because she said I hurt her.

I am selfish,

because he was right.

We are all selfish.

You do what makes you feel good,

because you think you’re so powerful.

You do what makes you feel happy,

because you think you always know what’s right.

You do what makes your free,

because you think you deserve freedom after years of oppression.

You do what makes you feel independent,

because you think that cutting ties with them was the way to go.

I did selfish acts,

because I am selfish through and through.

And, see, who is the last man standing,

if it is not the one who is selfish through and through.

Jakarta, 9 May 2017


A/N. Impromptu writing is written without a plan at hand by continuously typing the things that crosses one’s mind. It was not meant to be understood, it is a practice for the mind when everything seems so clustered that one cannot control one’s own train of thoughts.

This one is written with Dan Owen’s Fall Like a Feather playing in the background.

Rambling about books

Book review: The Last American Vampire, by Seth Grahame-Smith

In Reconstruction-era America, vampire Henry Sturges is searching for renewed purpose in the wake of his friend Abraham Lincoln’s shocking death. It will be an expansive journey that will first send him to England for an unexpected encounter with Jack the Ripper, then to New York City for the birth of a new American century, the dawn of the electric era of Tesla and Edison, and the blazing disaster of the 1937 Hindenburg crash. Along the way, Henry goes on the road in a Kerouac-influenced trip as Seth Grahame-Smith ingeniously weaves vampire history through Russia’s October Revolution, the First and Second World Wars, and the JFK assassination. Goodreads.

Continue reading “Book review: The Last American Vampire, by Seth Grahame-Smith”

#RetrospectSeries

April: in retrospect

April. Four months until my departure.

It’s crazy to think that we’re already four months in 2017, well maybe not crazy per se, more like, “Who would have thought I’m alive for another year!”; which on hindsight is pretty crazy. Why? Well, let’s just say me turning 29 is something that never cross my mind. Oh right, my birthday is in April so that’s why the whole I’m still alive thing is sorta of important, for me, at least.

Moving along.

To be completely honest I really don’t know how April rolls around this year. Growing up, April was a sacred month, right from the first of April I would be doing countdown until my birthday. But, this year, amongst the whirlwind that is preparing for moving abroad (hopefully in August, cross fingers!) I really couldn’t be bothered with the countdown. I felt like I was constantly on the run. There’s always something to be done, something to be taken care of, people to text, people to meet, people to make friends with, and literally all the adulting things that I swore I would never want to do, but then I ended up doing it anyway.

Am I excited about turning 29?

I’m a bit indifferent about this one. Adding another number to my age bore no significance whatsoever to me. Never has, never will (I think). Weird thing about turning 29 is that I’m somewhat curious about turning 20. What’s 30 going to be like?

How’s work?

Strangely work hasn’t been that demanding, most probably because I haven’t been in the office for quite some time, which I am absolutely not complaining about. Speaking of complaining, I took back some of the things I’ve said last year about work getting in the way of my reading; because this year, work was not the one that gets in the way of my reading, my stressful situation is the thing that’s keeping me away from my reading. This is the last day of April, and I’ve just managed to read 11 books!!

Unacceptable!

And whilst we’re talking about books, what say you about what I’m supposed to do with my books? I have about 20-30-ish books that I haven’t read yet. Should I bring said books to Colombia or leave it back in Jakarta, with the possibility of me reading said books three years from now? But, if I do bring the books with me to Colombia, I’m taking way too much space in my luggage, and besides who’s to say that I won’t be hoarding books in Colombia, right? Oh the dilemma!

Okay what other things to complain about?

Ah well the usual brand new triumvirate!

I’m sorry, what’s that?

Oh, right, you don’t know this. See, when I was in high school, I came up with the Triumvirate Holiday, which consist of Eid Fitr, Christmas, and New Year. There was a time where all three holidays were days after each other and it was hell for me (excuse me drama flare). It means I have to spend a really long week with my family, and, put simply, my family is not the kind of family where people should be together for a long amount of time. Well, anyway, afterwards the three holidays became known as the triumvirate holiday and I avoid it like a plague (for a second I forgot the word avoid in English, I had to Google translate it).

But, now that I’m 29, I have another set of Triumvirate, Married-Being a Wife-Having Kids. Believe you me, I don’t know how many times have I been in a conversation where everything boils down to one, if not all three, of those things.

“Oh, you’re moving to Colombia? But you’re married, right? What does your husband think?”

“Moving to Colombia? How are you going to take care of your husband?”

“You’re going to live in Colombia? What about kids?”

Ugh!

Ugh!

Extra UGH!

Do I have to explain about this?

Let’s not, okay?

Let’s just say, most of the people I’ve met in the past months have been nosy pricks.

And with that, I end my retrospect series for April, the official month of UGH! in 2017!

Rambling about books

Book review: A Darker Shade of Magic, by V. E. Schwab

Kell is one of the last travelers–magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel universes connected by one magical city.

There’s Grey London, dirty and boring, without any magic, and with one mad King–George III. Red London, where life and magic are revered–and where Kell was raised alongside Rhy Maresh, the roguish heir to a flourishing empire. White London–a place where people fight to control magic and the magic fights back, draining the city to its very bones. And once upon a time, there was Black London. But no one speaks of that now.

Officially, Kell is the Red traveler, ambassador of the Maresh empire, carrying the monthly correspondences between the royals of each London. Unofficially, Kell is a smuggler, servicing people willing to pay for even the smallest glimpses of a world they’ll never see. It’s a defiant hobby with dangerous consequences, which Kell is now seeing firsthand.

Fleeing into Grey London, Kell runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. She robs him, saves him from a deadly enemy, and finally forces Kell to spirit her to another world for a proper adventure.

Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they’ll first need to stay alive. Goodreads

Continue reading “Book review: A Darker Shade of Magic, by V. E. Schwab”