honest to blog

i was braving the urban jungle the other day with a friend of mine when i stumbled across an incident; it was my first of its kind. initially there was a curvy blonde in boots and capri-length trackpants saying something to some guys, but i could only caught bits and pieces like "…they…my car…what?" then as we walked a few steps further, we saw a commotion and realized that there were some policemen mending some jobs. right there on the ground, was a thirtyish, moderately well-built man being held down flat by no less than five policemen. trackpants blonde then randomly grabbed my shoulder, my friend’s shoulder, and i’m not sure who else’s before she made a beeline towards the spot. but oh, i kinda noticed that one of the policemen was knee-pressing the man’s throat. ouch. this thing happened for a few minutes before the man gave up resisting and the policemen were able to drag him somewhere. my friend’s, uh, journalistic instinct perked up and we walked away all dumbo-eared trying to figure out what actually happened.

fresh from the inspirational scene, my friend suddenly started rambling about ‘men in uniform’. not long after, we compared these ‘men in uniform’ within the western context and that of indonesian’s. a good laugh, that was. before long, we indulged in some talks about bartenders, and that tv series’ episode involving numbers, bartender, and cuteness. 

and never let it be said that i don’t make the effort to keep things pg-13.      

"my mask is growing heavy, but i’ve forgotten who’s beneath" - reclusion by anberlin

the other day i was hanging out with a bunch of friends when i slipped a little and lost my seating at the armrest of a sofa. these so-called "friends" were laughing so hard i wondered if their ribs would actually burst any minute then (ok, ok, fine…they were actually nice, good-hearted friends). i asked them what the big deal was with my little unfortunate mishap. to my surprise, they told me that that was the first time they actually witness an agnes doing something "stupid and silly". uh, hello? like we’ve been friends since last year or so. then i remember that other day when a certain rodent commented on how i sound so composed-ish and togetherish and maturish and big-sisterish when i talked to my little sister on the phone. a certain jamie actually mentioned this also some time ago. hmm…makes me wonder…

honestly, i’ve always thought of myself as this clumsy little ya-ya with an inclination towards both slapstick and mindwork silliness. like, seriously, if writing a thesis about agnes’ gospel of stupidity and weirdness would save all the pandas in china, some people would gladly do so and do so with the skill and experience that will make all the highly-honoured scholars in the world cry bitterly in shame sweating oxygenated blood. ok, maybe not. but the point is, i do wonder sometimes if i actually act differently around different people. or worse…i actually put on different masks with different shapes and colours for different occassions. or even worse, i’m a real hypocrite who try to conform to the society’s *gasp* expectation. or much more even worse, i’m a girl who’s experiencing a rather late identity crisis period. or extremely far more friggin’ worse, i’m just a lunatic who’s having lots of mental problems and should be expected to seek a professional help any day now…

Role.play.
with my parents, i’m this little mary-go-sunshine 24/7. with this foreign country, i’m this responsible, law-abiding, over-the-top-school-fee-and-insurance-paying temporary citizen. with some friends, i’m this vision of how their kids would turn out if they were to be constantly fed with expired cracks. with some other circle of friends, i’m either this quiet little hung-up meek laundry piece or overrated paragon of wisdom, politeness, and independence…no kidding. so, am i actually a deceitful little snake with a hundred different faces? am i a pathetic case of social *more gasp* conformist? or am i just a human who’s playing her role as she deems most appropriate every time on different contexts? whatever, i’m a big voter on relativeness and all things relativity anyway. sigh, who am i really? and will people actually believe and kinda expect the things that i do behind closed doors or when no one else is around? (hint: it involves someone’s white cat, some barbecue sauce, and an endless supply of remy cards, heheh)

oh well, i don’t know but…i really don’t know.
the world is my backyard stage.
this is me living.
and i’m still searching…
 

I’m full, I said. A statement merely met with a murmur of indifference at best. This is like the biggest Cordon Bleu portion ever, I said again. This time, the response was amplified a notch with a lift of an eyebrow. A waiter approached the table and asked, would you like anything else? I declined politely and grinned. Very well, I’ll clean this up for you, the waiter announced and with a swift motion of a single hand cleared up the remnants of my dining experience. I took a sip of water and looked around.

Psst…hey.

What’s that?

Here…over here.

I squinted my eyes in attempt to see more clearly.

That’s right, little lady. Here, I’ve got what you’re looking for, what you want, what you need.

I frowned, puzzled by the all-forwarding pick-up line though I managed to ignore it eventually.

I’m made especially for you.

Huh? Now I’m confused.

Can’t you tell? I’m fine. Exquisite. Just like the one you long for in your dreams.

And now I’m pretty scared.

Come on, take a chance. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You can’t be serious, I thought. I took a brief glimpse and looked away though that was enough to send my nerves to alarm. It wasn’t right. But I knew that I really liked what I saw.

You know you want me. Come to daddy, darling. Come to daddy.

Please, I prayed. I can’t do this. I’m not supposed to do this.

Aww…you know that won’t work.

This is a sinful indulgence and I could barely quit the last time, I reminded myself. But I could feel my heart beating in exhilaration.

NO, I commanded my last remaining will standing.

Fine with me. Whatever makes you happy, little lady.

I contemplated at the lines on my palm, the crease on the table top, the half-filled glass…and I groaned quietly.

Waiter, I motioned.

May I help you? The waiter inquired.

May I have one of those? I pointed.

Very well, the waiter replied with a subtle smirk on both eyes.

Ah, the devil’s advocate.

I knew you’d give in somehow little one, it said while staring straight at my face.

I took a bite and savoured every delightful moment. It took a while and I advised myself to just abandon the last mouthful tiramisu remains. I sighed and gazed at the evidence of a bittersweet victory.

Well who’s the daddy now?