Wait for the perfect wave, and when it arrives, ride it.

Wait for the perfect wave, and when it arrives, ride it.

It sounds literal, since I moved here.

Back then, it has always been the feeling of endless delay, that something should fall in front of me, while I’m waiting for the bus to arrive. Something, a fallen piano, a fallen house, a fallen magical book of some kind. And my life should start right there, at that very moment, at that very second. Pull me out of the state of melancholia.

You see, I know that I will never overthrown the melancholia, the sudden overwhelming sadness that I felt from time to time. That’s why they invent the Blues in the first place, right? To make people like me, go teary eyes over an old lady who cross the street for no apparent reason.

Now, something has happen. Life happens. I chose my new adventure, take a one way ticket to Bali, and the only thing I feel is anticipation, of making this new place my home. It has been six months and Bali has nurtured me well.

I have a Love and Hate relationship with Jakarta, the city I lived for most of my life. I grew up there, I live and breath the south of Jakarta, the street food, it used to be a great place to live. It used to be simple, less traffic jam, less pollution. It’s the Big Durian, either you love it , or you hate it. But in the name of economic progress it turns into this big cluttered messy urban jungle, with crappy mass transportation and people who seems to can’t be responsible with their own trash. There’s even a tour for foreigners to see how the poor live and dwell in Jakarta. It is true when they say, Jakarta has everything for everyone, the good and the bad.

If you talk about inspiration, Jakarta is abundance. But there is a difference between having inspired and making that inspiration into your own set of statement. Between work, and having to spend most of your time in a traffic jam, you just don’t have any spare of energy left. Your work,that depends entirely on inspiration, became empty and meaningless, just lines and shapes of whatever. It has become clear for me, I need oxygen.

One thing that I learn through out my life, is that all is in your hand. I had a painful rite of passage, and I can’t blame anyone for that, it is me, who shaped my future. It is me who made the decision. and it is me who has the power to overcome. And along the way, there are always going to be something or some one , who will come along in your path, to help, to teach, and to care. Open your eyes, and open your heart, even the old lady who crossed the street that made me teary eyed has teach me something. The feeling of endless delay starts to fade when you realize this.

Fate has led me to this, I do what I have to do. There’s nothing surprising about me moving out from the city. It is something that has been long overdue. If it’s not Bali it’s somewhere else. It is all in my hands. Be patient with me, people, I’m learning to live.