It’s okay, I’m just returning to being me

…which somehow feels a bit uncomfortable because I guess changes are inherently not entirely comfortable, but it’s okay.

I started the day feeling surprised for having virtually nothing in mind which is just strange because the me that I know tend to have more thoughts than what my brain might be able to contain, so… it somehow felt like “Who is this lady-with-no-thought? Is it really me?” but of course, yes, it’s me.

I don’t know.

Maybe I just couldn’t believe that I have finished revising my thesis proposal in a somewhat shorter time than what I expected. I thought revising would take up my whole weekend, but there I was: sitting for some four or five hours of doing it, then suddenly it’s done. One positively-tinged explanation for that might be because I have finally managed to control my impulse on checking and rechecking and rechecking and rechecking and bla bla bla on things (in this case, references). Maybe because I thought I have screened the references quite often that I got habituated, so I’ve pretty much lost sight of what might be significantly flawed in it; things just look quite the same. Maybe I really was able to achieve that ability to control most of my impulse and use the energy to get things that matter done instead. A somewhat derogatory view for that, might present as the thought that I might have lost my genuine interest in doing it. I mean I’d still do it professionally, for sure, but I no longer really have that feeling of this thing as being personally meaningful. It’s just an assignment that needs to be done, so why not getting it done anyway? Whether it’s gonna be good or not, what matters is that it needs to be done, so let’s get it done. Such thing.

So anyway, it’s done, and that means I need to make another plan for the weekend which I just don’t feel like doing. I mean, I tried to read, but felt sleepy after some time. Chores... nothing really urgent. Going out... don’t really feel like blowing another cash as my note ‘said’ that I have passed my limit for this month’s spending. I didn’t even feel like playing or sing any songs, which was just weird.

I don’t know.

Maybe I question why I should read because I might not be able to make stories out of it anyway as my brain might have pretty much ‘clogged’ and might have lost much of its plasticity that I’m no longer able to formulate imagination. Maybe because some people told me in a somewhat-blaming tone, that being able to read is a privilege and I kind of feel guilty for having a privilege that I might not deserve to have because if I took that privilege, then I would need to be ready to feel alienated. Maybe because I feel like despite what I have read and what I’ve tried to practice, I still don’t teach well and I might still not teach well until only-God-knows-when. Maybe because many people nowadays seem to be more into images than words, so whatever words I got from reading might not matter that much because it’s quite unlikely to be highly positive or highly motivating because.. I’m not sure “positive” or “motivating” is how reality goes.

I wasn’t sure about going out either, because… are there really anything that I need to see out there? What if I have invested so much energy to experience what’s out there but then I end up being nothing but drained? Well of course this is not the case, but… I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Well. Which is okay, really.

I mean, I think I have come to term with my previous failures and disappointments; some of them might be the result of going out of the so-called comfort zone and it’s okay; I don’t regret it, some good learning has happened. It’s just… somewhat surprising that I could finally able to the ‘anticlimax’ of the learning, it’s now sloping down, and it’s nearing the end.

When it’s really over, that might be the time when I could go back to being busy with my own thought; those thoughts that come from the brain that’s currently regaining its plasticity back. I could go back to being more creative rather than ‘pragmatic’. I could probably start writing stories again, crazier yet more coherent this time (as I’m gonna be a revised version of the same old me). I could also have more research ideas, try out more diverse methods, translate or write more paper; learn more knowledge, and stuff. I might feel less limited by the saying, “pang ada gen” or “yang penting lewat” as I might hear those words less often and even when I hear it, I can consciously manage to let the words affect me way less.

When it’s really over, that might be the time when I could eat the way I like it. The amount I like. The relatively snack-less days as how I’m used to. The sweet and slight-salty that I like, not the hot and spicy that makes me hyperventilate and feel like I'm being threatened. The chewing and conversing accompanied by relatively cheap food instead of the photo-taking and gadget-laden near-talkless encounter accompanied by food from the restaurants that are nicely decorated and nicely lit… but I can’t really comment about it anyway when the encounter was meant to be talkless. I mean I didn’t even feel like eating this morning; partly because I miss angkringan and burjo so much and I still can’t believe that angkringan and burjo aren’t available widely around the world, including here… and I was not sure I wanted to eat anything that’s not produk angkringan or burjo… but well. I still needed to live, so I ate things anyway.

When it’s really over, that might be the time when I could talk less about clothes, appearance or some beauty stuff because I’m not too sure I know such things well; nor care about them enough. I mean, my weight doesn’t seem to fluctuate further than 5 kilograms or such, so when people keep pointing out to me and say, “Kurusan ya?” or “Gemukan ya” that’ll be like… what’s the problem? I’m still doing okay, thanks. I mean I don’t mind occasional remark, but when it’s somewhat continuous… well. Next question please? Or… can I just have an update of what songs that are new on the radio? Maybe… any breakthrough in some music arrangement thing from certain artists lately?

Well anyway.

The road of me returning hasn’t been entirely smooth. It’s been long, convoluted (I don’t know if I use convoluted correctly), and occasionally bumpy, but… I’m not lost. I’m still on my way; and now I’m doing this the right way.

I’m #OnMyWayHome.