NOTIONS OF MINE

⚫ about being a visual admirer

Everything which is vividly visible in my eyes means so much. It's not about judging; but what if the outer look of something and the first sight we land onto it really matter? What if the way that something impresses us is beautifully undeniable? For almost all of amazing visions my eyes capture, judging-the-book-from-its-cover is an attitude. It's not until I took myself into a typical sad-ending romance of a teen-aged love story with English-France fascination that the paper flower is pretty much lovely in my eyes. The way the boy handed the flower to the girl and the way the girl instinctively slipped it on the backside of her ear were a chemistry enough for two people who were unable to be together. I read the book when I was in my third year of my Senior High, and years after, still I feel it : I, in much younger version, was holding the book like it was the last thing i could hold, in my white-grey classic uniform and was realizing that the destined fate was inevitably God's.

⚫ about my hair

My toes are favorite body parts of mine, while my hair is my sentimental muse. It was a blur memory about how I ever cut my hair off, just cleanly shaving my head. There were two moods about the memory: the dim and the crystal clear which rush up two contrasting side-effects: the forget-it and the recall-it. The dim is the reason why i cut my hair and shaved my head clean. Thanks God that I don't even remember what was exactly happening to me the time I shaved my head. If I remembered, I might regret more. It was because the other side of the memory was something which is still obvious on my mind. The strong forces to cut off my hair, the determination to get rid of my hair, the untidiness of my cutting, the sharp shaving blades which subtilize my head, and even the cool breeze all over my bald head when I laid my head to sleep. It took weeks for my hair to grow several inches and I was able to reveal it. During the process of cutting-shaving and the after-all, I felt like I had my own power to get through everyday. I can always say that it was not pleasant at all, but it was something I had to deal with. I was okay with no hair. I don't think I ever felt unpretty when I had no hair, nor in daily life, because I have always been average type of girl when it comes about good-looking. But then, the only thing which made me sad was what my Dad told me when he eventually knew that I was bald. I just had realized how he loved his daughter's long hair (my long hair!) after he said that he had wished my hair would have got longer - ever again, someday. Really, if I had known that he had loved my hair that much, i wouldn't have dared myself to cut it off. Really, back then, I had the guts. Really, now that I have it longer than ever, I will keep it well.

⚫ about coffee

Never had I imagined that I would understand the wonder-why my older sister always had that cup of coffee every morning, in a casual way. I never seem to realize that the way she treated herself was something contagious. Very little did I give attention and was I inspired back then; but now I always have my days with it. Everybody seems doing it, too. It is one of those things which comes up firstly when waking up each morning. Almost as essential as keeping my palms clean. I'm not a hygiene-freak, but it's just simply habitual for me to wash the palms of my hand or rub a drop of cleansing hand gel all over them. I would be  practically uneasy when lacking access to anything which may help me clean my hands. Practically hell! It's like I can never go wrong about having coffee regularly.

⚫ about how i wear jeans

 I consider that rolled jeans is a statement. Of comfort. Of rebellion. I seem to fail almost every mainstream thingy around me, for that must be the reason why I always act and do in an out-of-mainstream way - mostly. Being a copycat is easy. But living it every single day? I would go crazy! If I were better than what I am now, I might go with the regular things. Basically, being an average person makes me want to differ in my own way from others; despite the fact that it makes me quirky. Weird. Freaky. In my whole life, I could draw two conclusions about what people have on their minds about me: it's either "decent" or "odd". I don't mind with the "decent", but I prefer the "odd". It's not for the sake of standing out. It's about the true-self, about coming out my way - no matter what.

⚫ about my bangs

It is and has always been my most recognizable stuff - even seen and noticed from million miles away. My trademark. Something which is so me. Just like Eiffel marks Paris, Liberty Statue marks New York, and Big Ben marks London. As simple as that! One of my guilty pleasures - not meaning that I blame everything about the way I look. And much of a controversy. A contradiction. The fact that other people will give a damn about it is somehow irritating. I will never say that it is superb or something which others will wow at - so why bother? Telling me something like better without it straightforwardly sounds much more modest than sweetly saying rags thingy, such as if without it's - like it's a dead-end! So what with my broad forehead? So what with the slightly protruding forehead of mine? Just let me mind my own business - whatever the aims are. It hurts when they seem to cross the line without even thinking just how much effort I make. Despite the fact that it's simply one of the less-intricate things about me, still I find it hard to manage. It's not in a million years that I can let myself feel at ease about it. I have been, like, making up my minds all the time about whether to have it either this way or that way, including not having it at all! The more I think about it, the more it may become a history. Just soon enough! 

⚫ about my fave time of days

Talking about the coziest time out of 24/7 is the entity of Saturday nite and the Sunday morn - ever!  I still can recall the dear moments when I was in senior high back then: coming home from school on Saturday. As i seemed to be the very last one to leave the classroom, I found it pretty cool as I was lifting my head up to the sky and sweeping my gaze around: the nuance of late Saturday. It was around 4 hours to evening; and 2 hours to my fave series of Roswell on TV. After my so-called schooldays from Monday to Saturday, which were always heaven-and-hell in a whatsoever way, I felt elated to finally get my weekend, which was typically me-time as a homey girl. In spite of the imperfection of my family, it was truly a blessing to have a safe and sound tone around home: getting together, some movies, some TV shows, some conversations, some snacks, and staying up 'till very late. One of the things which made my Saturday nite was the ding-dong aura of the Sunday morn! No worries/rushes for school or other routines as well. First thing in the morning simply shouting: "It's Sunday!" wholeheartedly - almost like an anthem. Early in the morning, I roamed the kitchen for some hors d'oeuvre, and then some celebrations of the day: the free-spirited feeling. Those could be some books, some DVDs parade, MTV, Doraemon, Gilmore Girls, some outings, and of course some irresponsible sprees! Just, it was the most unbeatable time of life, every single day.

⚫ about my comfort zone

So, here how it goes: for someone who is a headstrong like I am, opening up my mind for something new (and, most importantly, ethical) is amazing. Hard to do, but I can't help it. The only thing I regret the most for being someone like me is the reality that most things are hard to get much earlier. Wish I had got them earlier!  I eventually got almost everything that I wanted, but it was way a little bit late. It was also quite difficult for me to do some things alone and living around people who are in the opposite sentiment. It was so hard that I felt like giving up and wondering where the hell my sidekicks were! Honestly, though I never mind being a loner and merely, a single fighter; I do need my other halves to keep me spirited and focused. Simply, accompanying me. Someday I may get it come true, while keeping my determinations alive. Just like the very first gusto to be a part of NGOs - it was a point-blankly failure, but I couldn't stop. Just like when my eyes captured some imported flower seeds - it was exotic to buy them and grow them in a KFC's bucket - noticing every single inch of growing into pretty bloom every single day. Just like when I read about carbon footprint and things I could do to reduce it - it was sophisticated. Just like when the idea of biopore hole captivated me - it was brilliantly simple and the origin from Indonesia's IPB. Just like when starting to store wispy trash into my bag or my pocket instead of just throwing it away while there was no trash can - it was responsibly witty. Just like when I first noticed Al Gore - he was just cool! Just like when I fell in love with The Body Shop - it was addictive in a long-lasting and happily ever after way. Just like when I decided to use my own cloth shopping bag - it was almost as controversial as me! The passion is still here, with me. I won't stop. Trying not to possess School 2013's Park Heung So's pessimism, at least I manage myself to get my make-sense dream come true. Just like before tasting pomegranate and holding it in my own hand, I have been so crazy about the fruit; from translating project of Pomegranate Soup to The Kite Runner. Pomegranate is indeed impressive - and the determination to retrieve it and to get together with the flock has never gone out; it is mine to get to my comfort zone.

pictures: private documents