Buttermilk Falls, ON, August 2011Sunday, August 14, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Fresh Water Jamboree
"The Fresh Water Jamboree is an annual one-day music festival established to help raise awareness about fresh water in Wellington County"... more here.Guelph, August 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Mary Humphreys
Welsh singer/concertina playerMill Race Festival of Traditional Folk Music, Cambridge, ON, July 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
There was a time when...
streets, long and winding, our shadows stood long over pavement; buildings, tall and grey and magestic; parks, wide and green. We ran, and ran, forever our footsteps hidden by the wind which rustled the red leaves, spilling hopes and dreams into the slowly wintering air.
So there we were, in the wide, hilly lanes of the magnificent park. Where the trees grew more than ten metres high. The wheels on our bike spun and spun, faster and faster we went, whizzing down, speeding and never stopping. We passed people jogging, dogs sprinting, old men and women strolling, the ponds and bridges, and still we whizzed down the cycling track.
We were racing. In 90 minutes we had to be able to circle the 200 ha three times. Four would be a record.
I had a friend. At least, she was my friend in those days. She had legs longer than me, with long and wavy brown, slightly copper hair, flowing behind her. She had a gift for conquering any athletics field, especially running. But in our Wednesday cycling sessions, we were equal. And in those days, she told me about herself; how she had mixed racial backgrounds; Aborigines, Spanish and Australian.
We’d speed until we come to where we’ve started. And there’d be Mr. Jones, the only male teacher with a golden earring and long hair starting to turn grey under a trucker cap. He’d pick up a pinecone and explain to us, how that particular pinecone would’ve taken hundreds of years to grow into trees as tall as they are now.
2007.
It’s way colder up here than in Sydney. But of course, they’d made us wake up earlier. About 6 am and they had us doing sprints uphill and back downhill, doing push-ups and sit-ups. I had a partner, taller than I am. We breathed hard, we punched each other, kiai-ed, anything to get our legs moving and not having our names called out by the senpais.
I wasn’t in Sydney anymore. There were no Centennial Park in these areas, I needed a new sport. And I found it a few hundred metres away from my new home.
A small wooden building which every Tuesday and Thursday afternoons turned into a karate dojo. I quickly fell in love with the sport. I fell in love with the adrenaline rushing which kept the skin numb through every practice, which later turned into purple bruises on the arms, legs, chest and stomachs... but the pain is almost immediately washed down by the cool showers afterwards...
That night, we built a bonfire, toasted marshmallows, and for a little time walked uphill under the stars. We weren’t in the dojo anymore, of course, but out in the midst of nature; Buninyong, Victoria, where the grass held wild animal droppings and the wind blew right into your bones.
So much had changed in three years. I had moved houses, yes. And I no longer talked to the girl with the long legs with mixed racial backgrounds. But I had met another, a tall girl with short brown hair and beautiful eyes. She is about four years older than me. She drank Starbucks, while I’d much rather have Gloria Jean’s. But we got along well and that was many of the things that only mattered in this life.
Even until now.
2004.
I had gotten used to the long walks. It was about summer, and I was about to take longer walks because I had chosen to do Cycling as my Wednesday sports. We were a small group, only a little more than ten people, and every third day of the week we’d walk a few kilometres to Centennial Park.
On the way, we’d stop by at a cycling shop to rent our bicycles. They were always a little too big for me, so mine always needed a little adjusting. But cycling has been, and still is, one of the sports that I do well at.
I had gotten used to the long walks. It was about summer, and I was about to take longer walks because I had chosen to do Cycling as my Wednesday sports. We were a small group, only a little more than ten people, and every third day of the week we’d walk a few kilometres to Centennial Park.
On the way, we’d stop by at a cycling shop to rent our bicycles. They were always a little too big for me, so mine always needed a little adjusting. But cycling has been, and still is, one of the sports that I do well at.
So there we were, in the wide, hilly lanes of the magnificent park. Where the trees grew more than ten metres high. The wheels on our bike spun and spun, faster and faster we went, whizzing down, speeding and never stopping. We passed people jogging, dogs sprinting, old men and women strolling, the ponds and bridges, and still we whizzed down the cycling track.
We were racing. In 90 minutes we had to be able to circle the 200 ha three times. Four would be a record.
I had a friend. At least, she was my friend in those days. She had legs longer than me, with long and wavy brown, slightly copper hair, flowing behind her. She had a gift for conquering any athletics field, especially running. But in our Wednesday cycling sessions, we were equal. And in those days, she told me about herself; how she had mixed racial backgrounds; Aborigines, Spanish and Australian.
We’d speed until we come to where we’ve started. And there’d be Mr. Jones, the only male teacher with a golden earring and long hair starting to turn grey under a trucker cap. He’d pick up a pinecone and explain to us, how that particular pinecone would’ve taken hundreds of years to grow into trees as tall as they are now.
2007.
It’s way colder up here than in Sydney. But of course, they’d made us wake up earlier. About 6 am and they had us doing sprints uphill and back downhill, doing push-ups and sit-ups. I had a partner, taller than I am. We breathed hard, we punched each other, kiai-ed, anything to get our legs moving and not having our names called out by the senpais.
I wasn’t in Sydney anymore. There were no Centennial Park in these areas, I needed a new sport. And I found it a few hundred metres away from my new home.
A small wooden building which every Tuesday and Thursday afternoons turned into a karate dojo. I quickly fell in love with the sport. I fell in love with the adrenaline rushing which kept the skin numb through every practice, which later turned into purple bruises on the arms, legs, chest and stomachs... but the pain is almost immediately washed down by the cool showers afterwards...
That night, we built a bonfire, toasted marshmallows, and for a little time walked uphill under the stars. We weren’t in the dojo anymore, of course, but out in the midst of nature; Buninyong, Victoria, where the grass held wild animal droppings and the wind blew right into your bones.
So much had changed in three years. I had moved houses, yes. And I no longer talked to the girl with the long legs with mixed racial backgrounds. But I had met another, a tall girl with short brown hair and beautiful eyes. She is about four years older than me. She drank Starbucks, while I’d much rather have Gloria Jean’s. But we got along well and that was many of the things that only mattered in this life.
Even until now.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
I like Daria, dammit!
Looking back through my teenage years, there was one cartoon serial I really liked. And even though I watched it long since it first went on air, I pretty much think it’s still timeless. And that is Daria.
Daria Morgendorfer is rather a stranger name, and the character itself is not your average high school kid. She’s smart, but even she herself doesn’t think that’s extraordinary. She doesn’t smile or laugh when other people do, she’s cynical and sarcastic but that’s really her sense of humour. I have a feeling this cartoon was not meant to be loved but it has done the opposite to lots of other people who watched it.
And that’s what’s probably unique about this thing. The sense of humour which some people don’t have. I find myself waking up around 1 am, it’s all dark and quiet out there and I’m laughing to myself at Daria’s jokes. It’s quite sad, but I tell you what, it’s obsessive. With the help of my techie uncle, I have just got my hands of 4 seasons of the series. And I have finished watching it all in just a week (a record for me)!
I think I like it so much because 1) unlike many other cartoons, it shows teen life in a comparatively balanced way, not too many judgements on any particular groups, 2) it gives me a little fresher perspective on life, and a stock of more witty thoughts to balance some the exclusively naive views I find around me...
Daria Morgendorfer is rather a stranger name, and the character itself is not your average high school kid. She’s smart, but even she herself doesn’t think that’s extraordinary. She doesn’t smile or laugh when other people do, she’s cynical and sarcastic but that’s really her sense of humour. I have a feeling this cartoon was not meant to be loved but it has done the opposite to lots of other people who watched it.
 |
| The cast of Daria. She's the one with the green jacket, standing next to her best friend Jane Lane |
I think I like it so much because 1) unlike many other cartoons, it shows teen life in a comparatively balanced way, not too many judgements on any particular groups, 2) it gives me a little fresher perspective on life, and a stock of more witty thoughts to balance some the exclusively naive views I find around me...
Monday, June 27, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
this has been a post
I like these bright coloured things. It is nice to be out of that gothy faze. My sister brought me this watch. And i brought this pink top for derby (oh yeah i do roller derby now ^_^ it's brilliant).
Friday, June 17, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Cam Girls
on receiving "cam girls" i was very happy.
my necklace says "bite me".
sophie is one of my favourite people.
http://www.sophieconvey.blogspot.com/
lately i have been smoking and drinking cola and getting my back sunburnt. when i'm less depressed i'm going to write a novel. haha. i dyed my hair again. crimson glow. today i am pretending i am angela chase.
it's my birfday tommorrow, i'm going to be an old lady.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Buku Untuk Rektorku
Alhamdulillah, Buku Untuk Rektorku akhirnya 'launching' juga. Ini dalam bahasa kasarnya, karena memang tidak ada hip hip hura untuk merayakannya.
Saya dan Firyal sempat kelimpungan, karena tak satupun teman lain datang. Tapi tak apalah, kami putuskan untuk segera eksekusi saja. Apalagi mandat penuh dari Presiden Dalu sudah di tangan, so.. maju laah....!
Saya dan Firyal sempat kelimpungan, karena tak satupun teman lain datang. Tapi tak apalah, kami putuskan untuk segera eksekusi saja. Apalagi mandat penuh dari Presiden Dalu sudah di tangan, so.. maju laah....!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
little house #2
four years ago: a small house for three, a garage with no cars and a backyard of mini tennis matches. a walk up the road to the milk bar and the payphone, a little further to school and the dojo. what a long journey we've had.
The first time we saw that house, we thought heaven had come down to earth.
It was a brick house, with two rooms that was even bigger than in our Sydney flat. The bathroom was separated from the toilet, it had a nice shower with glass partitions that was not adjoined to the bath tub. It had a small laundry, a garage fit enough for two cars, and moreover... a backyard.
We had never thought of having a backyard in our house. I guess it’s enough to say that even in Indonesia we didn’t have a backyard. So, even though it was all cemented and the only plants that grew there were weeds, we were ecstatic all the same.
It wasn’t so far away from school or from the big Morris Road. We could catch a bus from either direction within minutes of walking. We could also walk a little way down to Safeway by the Hoppers Crossing station. Perfect!
The first day we moved in, it was a weekend. The house seemed big, we went to the plaza to get all the things we needed; beds, mattresses, sheets, pillows and their covers, clothes hangers, buckets, and a whole heap of other stuff, including food; chocolates, canned food, mi goreng. We bought a mini fridge, then we came home around noon, and just stacked it, it was so exhausting. The electricity was still off (no, actually, we didn’t know how to turn on the main switch). So we had everything cold; cold showers (freezing!), and even cold food, and everything we did was candlelit.
When we look back at those days... they sure were hilarious in a way, also a little saddening and ironic. But if we could still have a good laugh at it then i guess we’re all right.
The first time we saw that house, we thought heaven had come down to earth.
It was a brick house, with two rooms that was even bigger than in our Sydney flat. The bathroom was separated from the toilet, it had a nice shower with glass partitions that was not adjoined to the bath tub. It had a small laundry, a garage fit enough for two cars, and moreover... a backyard.
We had never thought of having a backyard in our house. I guess it’s enough to say that even in Indonesia we didn’t have a backyard. So, even though it was all cemented and the only plants that grew there were weeds, we were ecstatic all the same.
It wasn’t so far away from school or from the big Morris Road. We could catch a bus from either direction within minutes of walking. We could also walk a little way down to Safeway by the Hoppers Crossing station. Perfect!
The first day we moved in, it was a weekend. The house seemed big, we went to the plaza to get all the things we needed; beds, mattresses, sheets, pillows and their covers, clothes hangers, buckets, and a whole heap of other stuff, including food; chocolates, canned food, mi goreng. We bought a mini fridge, then we came home around noon, and just stacked it, it was so exhausting. The electricity was still off (no, actually, we didn’t know how to turn on the main switch). So we had everything cold; cold showers (freezing!), and even cold food, and everything we did was candlelit.
When we look back at those days... they sure were hilarious in a way, also a little saddening and ironic. But if we could still have a good laugh at it then i guess we’re all right.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Marah
Marah adalah sesuatu yang melegakan, di saat-saat awalnya. Marah membuatmu mengeluarkan seluruh kata-kata yang kau inginkan, yang ingin kau lihat dampaknya. Marah membuatmu berani.
Marah memberikanmu ilusi bahwa kau sedang memegang kendali. When, in fact, you are losing it.
Marah membuatmu tak peduli pada apapun di sekitarmu, yang penting kau masih bisa mendengar teriakanmu sendiri, yang penting kau bisa memberikan dampak kepada sekitarmu. Marahmu adalah juga marahnya. Kau bisa membuat orang lain marah karena marahmu.
Marah, berjuta atom energi terkuakkan hanya dalam beberapa detik saja. Lalu, pelan-pelan, tubuhmu mulai menanggung akibatnya.
Melemah, melemah. Energi dalam tubuhmu menguap bersamaan dengan berjuta perasaan lain di sekelilingmu.
Mereda, kekuatanmu tadi. Menjadikanmu kembali lemah, tak berdaya, bukan siapa-siapa.
Tapi aneh, aku tidak menyesal telah marah besar kepadamu...
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Have You Ever Thought...
That you had been comparing yourself to the wrong person all this time.
I had been so wrapped up and trusting in you, that i lost my ground. Sound familiar?
I took in everything you told me I should have been. Even when i could never be the same.
Have you ever thought that, maybe you had always been a free bird, while I am a prized bird in a golden cage. We don’t follow the same paths to reach the forest.
My point is, you and I, we are never the same. Just like Emma Pillsbury and Ken Tanaka in Glee, The Thong Song and I Could Have Danced All Night.
“I wanted to talk to you about your wedding mash-up. I’ve been working really hard on it and... I just can’t get those two songs to go together.”
“Yeah, that’s because they don’t. We both know that... They’re both good songs, though.”
“Great ones.”
Yes, great. We are the great ones, people might say. Each one to their own!
There’s been too much not in common between us and not enough understanding. I don’t want you the way you are now, but neither do I want you the way you have been changing lately. The same way you don’t want me.
Mum was right. Too many things we ignored, too many things we imagined about each other that could not work out.
“Finn’s a good guy. He loves me.”
“And you, too. Get out of my house.”
--
“And you were so scared of what he would do if he found out you just pushed it aside like we do every bad feeling in this house. If you don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.”
Oh, boy. Funny the things we talk about. Politics, revolution. Big, renowned men. Dreams. But never a single word about accepting each one of us. Oh, sure, you talked about how our differences made life interesting. But what does it mean, when the next day you’re shoving it down my throat what I should be and what I should have done, all in your opinion.
“Now do not turn this on us. You are the disappointment here!”
“Why? Because I’m not a little girl anymore? Because I made a mistake?”
“Who are you? I don’t recognize you at all.”
Oh, yes. I don’t recognise you these days. And maybe, so do you. I’m a disappointment when I don’t keep up with your expectations, right? I used to think that, but not anymore. The prized bird is almost completely blinded when it tries to find its way to the jungle, alone. Sometimes, we’d pass each other along the way (“Welcome to the jungle!” , you’d say). But other times...
“Speaking of getting married, how’s that boy you’ve been dating?”
“Yeah. Yeah. He’s not, uh, pressuring you at all, is he?”
“No. No, he’s a gentleman.”
I wonder if i could ever say the same about you...
Have you ever thought... this all sounds so familiar with your life?
(all conversations taken from episodes of Glee, Season 1).
I had been so wrapped up and trusting in you, that i lost my ground. Sound familiar?
I took in everything you told me I should have been. Even when i could never be the same.
Have you ever thought that, maybe you had always been a free bird, while I am a prized bird in a golden cage. We don’t follow the same paths to reach the forest.
My point is, you and I, we are never the same. Just like Emma Pillsbury and Ken Tanaka in Glee, The Thong Song and I Could Have Danced All Night.
“I wanted to talk to you about your wedding mash-up. I’ve been working really hard on it and... I just can’t get those two songs to go together.”
“Yeah, that’s because they don’t. We both know that... They’re both good songs, though.”
“Great ones.”
Yes, great. We are the great ones, people might say. Each one to their own!
There’s been too much not in common between us and not enough understanding. I don’t want you the way you are now, but neither do I want you the way you have been changing lately. The same way you don’t want me.
Mum was right. Too many things we ignored, too many things we imagined about each other that could not work out.
“Finn’s a good guy. He loves me.”
“And you, too. Get out of my house.”
--
“And you were so scared of what he would do if he found out you just pushed it aside like we do every bad feeling in this house. If you don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.”
Oh, boy. Funny the things we talk about. Politics, revolution. Big, renowned men. Dreams. But never a single word about accepting each one of us. Oh, sure, you talked about how our differences made life interesting. But what does it mean, when the next day you’re shoving it down my throat what I should be and what I should have done, all in your opinion.
“Now do not turn this on us. You are the disappointment here!”
“Why? Because I’m not a little girl anymore? Because I made a mistake?”
“Who are you? I don’t recognize you at all.”
Oh, yes. I don’t recognise you these days. And maybe, so do you. I’m a disappointment when I don’t keep up with your expectations, right? I used to think that, but not anymore. The prized bird is almost completely blinded when it tries to find its way to the jungle, alone. Sometimes, we’d pass each other along the way (“Welcome to the jungle!” , you’d say). But other times...
“Speaking of getting married, how’s that boy you’ve been dating?”
“Yeah. Yeah. He’s not, uh, pressuring you at all, is he?”
“No. No, he’s a gentleman.”
I wonder if i could ever say the same about you...
Have you ever thought... this all sounds so familiar with your life?
(all conversations taken from episodes of Glee, Season 1).
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
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