Tout ira bien

There's a bakery near my apartment that I frequent.

Here's what I like to do. I like to walk the few blocks up to the bakery, listening to music as I do so, even though it really isn't that far and I'd have to put away the music player in my bag once I'm there.

When I get there, I order a coffee, which will never vary beyond a choice between a cappuccino and a mocha. This is because these are the only two types of coffee I know. Cappuccino because my parents always order a cappuccino on our occasional visits to a cafe, and mocha because it's 'the one with chocolate in it'. Occasionally I tell myself to be brave and go for something else (a flat white in particular, I'm quite curious to see if it will taste any different), but whenever I look into the attentive face of the person taking my order and open my mouth, it never materializes. One cappuccino/mocha it is, then.

If things were going well, it would be breakfast time, and I would have an excuse to get a chocolate croissant. And this will not be the best chocolate croissant in the world, but at that moment, it will be pretty damn close.

I'll take my coffee and my chocolate croissant and sit somewhere alone, and there, I will try to navigate the delicate balance between eating, drinking, and keeping the book I'm reading or homework I'm doing clean. It is often a futile war(food:568, Atiqah:0), but I keep doing it, and there, while my cup is still half full and I have a big portion of croissant left to eat, I am content.

And perhaps it is content in one of the sincerest ways I can grasp. It's not the same as happiness that comes from,say, watching korean movies(a very trivial excuse for happiness, but there you have it). I mean, that cheers me up, can't deny that, but it's the sort of cheer that is hollow inside, if that makes sense.

I think it makes me happy because I don't think beyond whatever I'm reading and the the idea of licking the milk foam covered with cocoa powder off my teaspoon. Oklah, that's not true. I do think of other things, like how nice the pasta salad the girl next to me is eating. But other than that, I am more or less absorbed in this bubble. I don't go into the darkest corners of my head, and even if I do, it seems ok.

I feel like me. And it doesn't matter how silly or insignificant I am outside this bakery, how foolish or irrelevant, how mean or self-conscious,how vain! In this bubble, I am me, I am unseen,I can just sit there and be inconspicuously comfortable. In public.

I'm listening to some insanely awesome soft, sentimental songs. Which may be a problem, because it's making me want to make this into an insanely awesome soft, sentimental post, which we know I won't succeed at, thus making it into a ridiculously mushy, embarrassing one. This is exacerbated by the fact that my exams are over (finished my last paper just now, DAMN SON!), giving me an endless night with which to

Ok, dah mengantuk. Good night.

Just in case

Don't tell the other songs this, but I have a special place in my heart for the ones that make me want to dance under the night sky, with my hands in the air. Why under the night sky? I don't know. Why with my hands in the air? I don't know that either. But that's exactly how I feel like when I listen to Fader by The Temper Trap, which has been an absolute staple the past couple months.


Have you listened to it? Do you feel like dancing under the sky in the middle of the night with your hands up in the air? Smashing, smashing, song. I have half-convinced myself that my (hypothetical?) soulmate would want to dance with me to this. Holy crap, this could be our song. Other couples would snuggle and slow dance to nice lovely tunes, and then we'd be like BAM! Hands in the air!

Why am I deciding on a theme song for a non-existential relationship with a hypothetical partner? Kumquats and fiddlesticks.

Anyway, one last paper to go.

Secara kesimpulannya

Hello.

Banyak benda telah difikirkan.

But for the moment, I have this vision of going "HEEEEY SEXXAAAYYY", and coercing someone into grooving with me to this delightful number.



I stuffed myself with sweet chilli and sour cream-flavoured rice cakes. I have crumbs all over my t-shirt. Why, Atiqah, why.