And I Miss

I came around 15 minutes early before doing my oral presentation. I was dreaded by the weight of my brother's laptop but obviously not enough to not care about my chick mantelpiece look. I even took the effort to walk on my 7cm heels that I've worn only once before during my highschool graduation. I was to present my internship study; and I totally looked the part.

Too bad I couldn't quite say the same for the result. But I didn't even think of that until they asked me to "step outside" for 3 minutes before calling me back in. It turned out to be 5 minutes, but it was fine, because it was then that I saw 3 of my schooling comrades pass by the secretariat office. I headed for the door. Very instantly.

I greeted them enthusiastically.

"Where've you been? We miss you."
"Aww well I thought it was time to leave."
"To get away from me?" Said one.
"Honestly? Yes- hehe."
"Oooh that's Mia. Give me a wild hug, one wild hug!"

Without second thought I wrapped my arms around while trying to forget how tacky that'd look in another part of the world. I miss the school, or perhaps, however incredulous, I actually miss schooling. Before I could realise, a friend elbowed me to show that the dean is tapping on the other side of the glass door, ready to verdict me with a grade I care less and less about.

Le Louvre

The Louvre is mega breath-taking. I meant the structure. I'm not much of an arts fan, but I have got to love the setting. It was around 2 years ago since I last visited, but the cool very winter breeze of November reminded me that I'd have to come back, even if it means having 3 children to supervise and pregnant with the 4th one. It was nothing shorter than magical.

There were a lot of, surprise, tourists with their state-of-the-art cameras despite the new regulations rule of not taking pictures in the oh so happen to be section of the infamous Joconde. Or Mona Lisa, to be more familiar. I remember taking a picture in front of her (him?) some time back though not exactly understanding why it's so great. And I still don't. Sorry to sound bitter but compared to the other bigger and more vividly coloured paintings in which I could understand what the painters were actually trying to say, her highness was really, well, normal. But I guess that doesn't stop her from having her own wall with 4 security guards and bullet-proof glass.

Anyhow, again, I love the scenery I saw on the open pavement of the Louvre. Incredibly spacious, something of a change to the small busy roads of Paris. With the perfect blue sky, yellow sun, and company, the day became one of those days which made me realise that I am in love with this city. Beyond all denials.

Oh, and His Excellency also came along.

I really liked you

"You know, saying that to the right girl could start a story."

"And not to you? Which still saddens me to this day."

I paused. Was it because I told him I was leaving? I mean, really, something as flattering as being liked made public before the leave is totally exciting. Perhaps it's the whole now or never dilemma; and with what your heart feels at that moment, usually never seems a little too long to wait. But I've been there, and certainly have done that.

How a guy feels about me is something I'm not cool in asking. I can be obsessively shy, and for the person to know that--I am good as deadmeat. I'd stumble on words and blaze red hot panic in my face. This is to tell someone that I appreciate them telling me. Which my heart does, more than my mouth anyway. The thing is I'd hate to be responsible for pushing such a good guy who had asked for a simple Indonesian date for the last year to rethink before he asks again. Like how I would if I'd ever ask a guy on one and have to settle with the busy excuse.

And for that I praise the heavens for making him nothing like me.

So why didn't he tell me before?

"It's all good. Otherwise I'd have to deal with you leaving now."

Aah. Well, as far as my experience has taught me, vulnerability when losing is very much part of the feeling.

About a guy

Midway through what was to be the making of a good conversation that night, I found myself focused on a certain guy that was diplomatically engaged in a conversation with my brother and me. The kind of helpless, complete, and fixated focus. Perhaps also in sudden self-strucking "what am I doing?!" conscience because my eyes quickly struggled to lay off when His Excellency was no longer talking.

There he sat; semi-formally dressed with a great, if not totally asphixiating God-given talent, ability of bringing value to a conversation effortlessly. His Excellency would talk, listen, and give his thoughts in perfect quantities in the most delicate way: a sort of maturity that is both young and powerful. Not to mention utterly delicious.

I began to admire His Excellency. And how admiration can be such an honest feeling! Especially when you know that your mother will like him.