February: NYR #11 (Write More)

And so February has come and gone. I survived Valentine’s Day intact and scar-free, although on second thought perhaps it’s more like an internal wound that you don’t feel until it is pretty chronic. Let’s hope not, shall we? I do have NYR #6 to think about…

So, following on from my amazing January progress report (if I do say so myself.. don’t we just love self-assessments?), my February progress report is no less impressive (I am being as objective as I can). I took on the challenge to “write more”.

Being fully cognizant of my amazing procrastination ability (see NYR #2), I joined the postaweek2011 challenge (peer pressure works, I assure you)  and joined Plinky (not knowing what to write about is no longer an excuse). (note: While I am an optimistic, glass-half-full kinda girl, the postaday challenge would be a masochistic choice). And this marks my 6th post for the year. In the 10th week of the year. So, yay me! I did join the challenge a bit late, but it is my plan to end the year with all 52 posts. In comparison, I only wrote 5 posts in the whole of 2010!

While I am no great writer, and will never be, (along with my other trashed dreams of becoming a singer/actress/dancer/painter… the arts has been to me what maths were to most of my classmates), and writing does not come easy to me, I do enjoy having written. Reading old diaries, letters, and blog posts reminds me of days gone by, of the roads taken and not taken, of the journey to get me to the here and now, and satisfies my nostalgic-freak side. Even if only to laugh at how silly I was (repeat: was, not am). I still have, locked safely away of course from the peering eyes of my big family, the old diary I kept during my teen years. Where, sadly, every post was about a guy/guys I had a crush(es) on. Forget the postaday challenge, that was the time of the crushaday challenge. Talk about teenage hormones. I am glad to say I am (a bit) wiser and more selective of my “crushes” these days.

But the funniest diary entry was definitely the one about my first “big night out”, where I came home at the wee hours of the morning for the first time. Being a true 90s child, it was to an MTV party (yes, I am part of that MTV generation), where bold and underlined, I came home at 2 AM (Asti’s diary, 24 July 1999).. and of course, I had to draw the MTV logo at the top of the page. *sigh* This then was followed by 4-page detailed account of who performed, the MTV VJs I saw, the pushing/shoving/smoking, and the ticket price of Rp 25,000! The true wake-up call of the inflation monster, where 12 years later that same amount would not even buy me a ticket to the movies, let alone a concert.

As embarrassing as that whole diary is, my only regret is that I did not write more. Reading it brings back my “firsts”: first heartbreak, first party, first fight… and amazingly, a recurring theme of excitement in all my moves, and the apprehension and depression of the first night in the new place. In fact, the last entry, on a torn piece of paper stuffed into the middle of the diary, dated 21 September 2004, was precisely on that subject. It was written on my first night in my new room at the University of Warwick, after spending 3 years in the University of Sheffield.

“@ these moments, i wonder y i made d bold move 2 move, to leave d familiar faces and d comfort of my new-found family of three years…bt then again, dis is me, dis is my need and my lyf, btr 2 leave shef nw w/ al d fond memories than d boredom dat was killing me @ d end of d yr…mayb i wasn’t born 2 make decisions, i dnt even knw hu i am yet and wat i want in lyf…” (Asti’s diary, 21 September 2004)

Those feelings and questions.. they never go away, do they?


2 responses to this post.

  1. apparently we all abbreviate words into weird shortened versions. you know, back in the “dei” 😛


    • Posted by asti on March 8, 2011 at 11:18 pm

      bahahaha lol!! 😀 Thank God those deis are gone.

      In my defense, that specific “diary” entry was actually written on the one sheet of paper I managed to find in the unpacked boxes, and thus the abbreviations were by necessity not by choice.


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