Hey, it's Stephanie Poetri. I'm going to answer 21 random questions.

Number 1: Describe your mindset in three words.

Number 2: What always brings a smile to your face?

Seeing my friends smile brings a smile to my face.

To see the people I love be happy, I think, is the easiest way to make me smile.

Number 3: What is one of your most awkward memories?

My whole entire childhood. I was definitely one of those kids that was, like—I just needed attention 24/7. And looking back, I'm like, ‘Girl, chill.’

Number 4: What's the worst version of hell you can imagine?

I think the worst version of hell is the one that doesn't exist.

I'm really scared that once I pass, that there is nothing. And, I don't know, part of me wishes that there is something. Something is better than nothing.

Number 5: What's the best version of heaven you can imagine?

I think the best version of heaven, for me, would be the ability to create my own reality and to make a world for another version of myself where everything is perfect.

Maybe part of it is being able to create my own reality, my own universe.

Number 6: if you could wake up tomorrow and possess any new skill in the world, what would it be and why?

I would love to be the master of any game so that I could be super cool and show off to my friends that I'm, like, super talented in gaming. 'Cause right now I'm just average at everything.

Number 7: What is your zombie apocalypse survival philosophy?

Mine would be to just not survive, because the last thing I want to see is the people I love turn into a zombie.

But if I was a zombie first, technically, I don't have to go through that mental baggage.

I think so, but I think it's probably, like, little germs or something on other planets. But that's just me. I don't know.

Number 9: What is one of the best failures or losses of your life?

I really think I don't have any, mostly because every single bad thing that I have done or that has happened to me has brought me to where I am today, and I just feel very lucky.

Number 10: Drop the hardest hitting motivational quote you can muster.

I can't say it right now, but if you search up the Rocky monologue, that will be it.

Number 11: If your life story was a movie, what would be the title?

I think the title would be, "Oh To Be In Love".

Because I'm just always in love. I'm in love with everything, y'all.

Number 12: What did you think was true in the past that you no longer believe?

I think there is definitely a point in my life where I 100% was like, ‘Love is all about chemicals.’ You know. ‘It's all about science,’ right?

But part of me feels like recently, maybe soulmates do exist.

Maybe there is this, you know, not scientific thing where some people are just meant to be with each other.

And it could not even be romantic. It could be platonic. It could be between you and your family member.

I think some people are just meant to know each other. And I used to not believe that but now I do.

Number 13: If all of humanity were to go extinct and you could preserve only one work of art, what would it be, and why?

Imagine if I said one of my own songs that would be—that would be messed up.

I think I would love to preserve—can I preserve all of the Seven Wonders of the World? Because, I don't know, I think they're all big and cool and really shows the differences of the world.

Number 14: When was the last time you were angry or bitter? What happened and how did you deal with it?

I ordered a computer, and one of the parts are broken and I wasn't angry at the people ‘cause I understand that things happen.

I was angry at the situation because I had been excited about it for about three weeks and, you know, when something comes and it's broken, so technically you have to wait some more.

And I was mostly angry with myself for letting myself be so excited.

Because it let out—let out all the anger through my tears. And then I was like, "Eh, it's fine. I'll just play some more games on my phone or something."

Number 15: What's one of the most out-of-character things you've ever done?

So a lot of my friends would know that in high school, I was, like, so set on going to college.

I was studying all the time. I tried to build the perfect CV to enter college, and… I didn't. I'm still not in college.

And I think a lot of my friends—I remember them telling me that they were shocked—not in, like, a bad shock—they were just like, "That's so funny that you were one of the people who are the most, you know, set on it. And now you're not going."

Number 16: What will people in the future think was really stupid or crazy about how people think today?

I mean, I really, really hope that people in the future are just more kind, more empathetic, more understanding, and they'll see how we are today, how much hate people have for each other.

You know, just because people come from different backgrounds or different cultures, I hope that in the future, people just look back and see how crazy that was, how stupid. And yeah, I just hope that there is more kindness in the world in the future.

Number 17: One day your future self turns up and tells you the best advice you've ever received. What does he or she say?

I feel like every year I become a different person.

You know, I learn something about myself, and what I learned the most this year was that I am loved, no matter how successful or unsuccessful I am, no matter how creative or uncreative.

I will always be loved and I have people who love me, and that makes me feel a lot happier and more content.

And so I hope in the future that I can find some way to tell myself now that it's okay to not be loved, because sometimes you have to accept yourself.

You don't need other people's validation. I only need my own validation.

Number 18: What's a lesson that has taken the longest for you to learn?

To appreciate time, and to respect that other people need either less or more time than you do, and that the time it took for me to reach a certain point in my life will be different for other people and to be understanding of that.

I had a lot of jealousy for people who were quicker than me, and a lot of pity and anger for people who took longer than I did. But I understand that, at the end of the day, people will go at their own pace and you should respect that.

I think love is a mix of probably science, and something, you know, not of this world. But not like aliens.

More like this grand thing that we can't see, we can't touch, but we know is there.

Here's an advice, y'all: Appreciate platonic love. Because a lot of people focus on romantic love, but at the end of the day, it's really important to know that you love your friends, just as much as you love ya bae.

Number 20: Take a moment to record a message for yourself to hear one year from now.

I hope that you're staying motivated, staying creative, and I hope that you still remember to tell everybody that you love them, and I hope that you still cry a lot.

When was the last time you cried? Come on. Cry right now. I dare you.

I hope that you take time to be grateful for the things you have.

And I know that you always tend to focus on the future, but always remember to take some time to be in the moment.

Be grateful, and tell people that you love them.

Number 21: How would you go about hiding a body?

I won't tell you guys because this will be used as evidence. No, I'm kidding.

I literally have too much guilt. My conscience just weighs too heavy, so I will never hide a body.

I'll be the first one to tell people. Don't call the cops.

I have a couple last things to say for the listeners here.

I want to remind you guys that whatever you're going through right now, it will pass.

It's just good to remind yourself that you've been through things and they always end. So remember that it will end.

Take care of yourself. Sleep more than six hours a day. All right? I know some of y'all be sleeping, like, two or three hours. Like, no. Okay? Bad.

Get to know Stephanie Poetri as she makes her way through 21 Questions.

21 Questions with Stephanie

Hey, it's Stephanie Poetri, and in today's sleep story, I'll be walking you through the city.

It's that magical time of day that photographers call the golden hour.

The time just before the sun sets, when the skies turn pink and orange.

You're in a ferry, approaching a vast, glimmering city.

And as the sun sets, colors reflect and shimmer on the water; it gives the illusion of a fine impressionist painting.

Standing at the front of the ferry, you feel a gentle breeze on your face as strands of hair caress your cheek.

To your right, a bridge stretches majestically across the water, leading to the city's downtown.

As the ferry approaches the terminal, the skyscrapers of downtown blend into focus.

It's a glistening metropolis of glass, brick, and steel.

Skyscrapers—some old, some new—begin to illuminate as the evening creeps into darkness.

You look up in awe at the architecture and can't help but wonder who lives or works in the buildings, imagining their lives and what's going through their minds.

As the captain jumps off the ferry, he warps the thick, coarse line of rope around the post.

You notice a young woman on the pier, looking wistfully out to the water, lost in her own thoughts.

In the stroller she's pushing, a young child licks an ice cream cone.

He waves the cone around in the air excitedly, and the ice cream is seen melting down his hand.

You love to people watch, and the scene makes you smile as you exit the ferry onto the walkway.

The city appears quieter than usual, except for the humming sound of car engines, heading home on the freeway above.

It's almost completely dark as you turn the corner into the city's Chinatown, a bustling district of markets and herbal apothecaries by day—by night, brightly lit restaurants display photographs of food, while red paper lanterns dangle from ceilings inside.

A young man sits alone inside one restaurant.

With his right hand, he swipes through his phone and smiles. And with his left, he plays with chopsticks, although his plate is now empty.

You gaze through the window, watching the chefs banter, while a popular Chinese show plays on a clunky old TV in the corner.

The young man looks up just as you turn away, as if he senses your eyes watching the scene.

A late-night Chinese healer is open across the street, a mystical shop window filled with jars of herbs, lit by dim spotlights.

A sign outside advertises acupuncture, massages, and reflexology.

You look down at your feet, encased in tight fitting boots, then back at the sign before deciding to continue your evening stroll.

A fragrant aroma emits from a small kiosk in the corner.

It's a sweet, sugary smell that tantalizes your taste buds.

You watch the lady behind the counter as she takes egg tarts out of the pan and onto plates.

She is middle-aged, with a kindly face with jet black hair swept back into a bun.

She offers you an egg tart wrapped in a napkin, gesturing for you to take it.

You do so. Under her watchful eye, you take a few bites.

It's perfectly flaky on the outside, and sweet and custardy on the inside.

As you walk further along the street, the atmosphere changes.

Apartment buildings with wrought iron fire escapes line the streets.

You hear soft R&B music coming from one apartment with the light on, and see a couple dancing and twirling, oblivious to the world outside.

You can't help but wonder what the atmosphere is like inside, who the couple is, and how they met.

It begins to rain heavily. You open your umbrella and raindrops pitter patter on the fabric like a percussive drum beating.

Shallow pools began to form on the sidewalk—the light of the full moon in the dark sky, reflecting in the water.

A yellow taxi cab drives past, its tires making their way over potholes and splashing water onto the pavement.

It gives the landscape a moody, cinematic feel, a bit like a scene from a movie.

Jumping in and out of puddles, you reach a small community garden, up ahead on the right.

The gate is unlocked, so you enter to find shelter from the rain.

Winding cobblestone pathways lead to vegetable patches and flower beds.

The flowers you see are just blooming, now that it is late spring.

You pass through an archway that is covered in twisted vines, until you arrive at a wooden bench.

As you sit down on the bench, you find a nice spot under the trees and you can take a long look at the beautiful flora surrounding you.

The light bulbs illuminating the pathway turn on, adding sparkle to the garden's grounds.

The garden transforms into a magical wonderland. And now that the pathways are all lit up, you notice a small wooden carving of animals and statues hidden among the plants and trees.

You can see a deer, rabbit, tortoise, and a bee.

It's soft and smooth—the wood grainy with lines and crevices and all the right places.

It's a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and you imagine the person who took the time to create it.

You leave the garden and the lights turn off again, plunging the park into darkness once more.

You close the gate behind you, grateful for the precious moments of solitude in the city.

At the edge of the park, you reach a crossroad with a set of traffic lights.

One historic building stands out from the rest and captures your attention.

The stones are cut with mathematical precision, and the windows are tall and arched, like the ones you find in a place of worship.

You peer through the window to see what's inside.

It's a huge art studio, dotted with colorful paintings on easels. Some are wrapped and stacked on pallets on the floor.

Across the street, a doorman stands at the entrance to a hotel called The Good Sleep.

There's a dark green awning outside, and the man's uniform and cap matches the shade.

He greets an older gentleman—well-dressed in a suit and raincoat carrying a dark umbrella with a wooden hooked handle.

Your eyes follow the gentlemen into the lobby.

It is a stylish hotel with a dazzling, central chandelier and a circular, sweeping staircase.

The interior is more modern than expected.

There are no reception desks—solely self check-in machines where you can scan your reservation on your phone.

You scan yours and leave your small overnight bag behind the counter so they can hold onto it until you're ready.

Turning left, you can see the mirrored skyscrapers of downtown up ahead—the glitzy ones belonging to investment banks, TV studios, and large publishing houses.

You decide to take the subway on this cool April evening, as it's warmer below ground.

The warm air hits you as you descend the stairs into the station.

White, tiled walls line the platforms, and by the barrier, a busker plays a familiar tune on a saxophone.

You observe the young man, thinking he can't be more than 30 years old, and you wonder about his aspirations.

He plays the instrument beautifully with lilting jazz tunes reminiscent of an older time.

He wears a tweed cap and matching jacket, and as he plays, his face lights up, lost in the creative moment.

At his feet, a black dog is curled up asleep on a blanket.

His nametag in the shape of a golden bone says, ‘Lucky Boy.’

As you reach into your pocket for coins, you realize there is no case or hat for donations.

A woman dressed in a waitress uniform with mascara-smudged eyes, weary from her shift, tells you quietly, "He's not interested in the money. He just does it because he loves it."

The subway train exits the tunnel and rattles into the station, jerkily coming to a standstill at the edge of the platform.

The door opens and you take a seat on an orange vinyl chair.

Banners advertising new TV shows cover the area above the windows, and as you pull out of the station, the train picks up pace as the promotional billboards merge into one mess of colors and words.

You have several stops to go before you need to get off.

Each stop lets different people enter and exit the train.

A long-haired man with headphones on talks animatedly and laughs.

A sprightly elderly woman wearing a tiara pulls a trolley filled with vintage magazines.

A businessman with a furrowed brow checks his stocks and shares on a tablet.

The train's wheels reverberate over the tracks with a series of clicks and bumps.

It is so relaxing that you find yourself dozing off, and the journey is over, almost too quickly.

As you climb the stairs back onto the city streets, the city dazzles with a million lights. Neon billboards and souvenir shops advertise their wares.

The long avenue is adorned with pictures promoting the latest musicals with five-star reviews.

The lights that beckon and call are intoxicating.

But you turn onto a side street, which is more peaceful.

Along a street lined with glass buildings, people in offices work late, typing on computers with desk lamps switched on.

One man on the second floor twists the blinds, partially opening and closing them.

He is on the phone, leaning by the window, making plans.

An old 1920s style cinema comes into view ahead. It advertises movies from the 80s and 90s and all the old classics in black and white.

The building is art deco in style, beautiful shell-like patterned in sage-green and silver with diamond surrounds.

Drift off to sleep with Stephanie as she takes you through the sounds of the city.

A City Sleep Story

Hey guys. It's Stephanie Poetri here, and one of the sounds that transports me back home, no matter where I am in the world, is the sound of my childhood bedroom.

Where I grew up in Jakarta, even though I lived in a house, my bedroom overlooked a farm, and it sounded almost tropical.

There was the rustling of the wind through the kamboja trees, the sounds of toads going ‘ribbit, ribbit,’ my own personal alarm clock in the morning—aka the roosters.

And even cows mooing in the distance, which my friends would always hear when I was on the phone with them.

I'd love to transport you to the sounds of my childhood bedroom now, and I hope you enjoy it. Happy listening.

Transport yourself into the sounds of Stephanie’s bedroom in Jakarta.

Stephanie's Childhood Bedroom Soundscape

Hey everyone, it's Stephanie Poetri here.

Just dropping into your feed, reminding you that it is okay to cry.

It's not always because of bad things. Sometimes, I'm just so overwhelmed with any emotion, and it could be sadness or anger or even happiness.

For me, crying is one of the ways I do self-care, which is really weird to say. But I feel like whenever I cry, it's a way for me to clear my head, and I’m able to fully comprehend the reasons as to why I'm feeling so emotional.

As it turns out, crying is even good for our health.

Psychologists say that when you don't cry, you're keeping difficult feelings bottled up inside of you.

They call this "repressive coping," and this can be bad for your health.

And according to studies compiled by Harvard Health, repressing your emotions leads to a less resilient immune system, greater chance of cardiovascular disease, hypertension, and even mental health conditions like stress, anxiety, and depression.

I like to cry alone, but also with people around me.

That's something that I had to work on. And now that I'm in a very comfortable position where I don't feel so shy about crying in front of other people, I've definitely become a more open-minded and just, like, a better thinker in general.

Make sure to find time in a safe space to cry if you need to.

It can be my bed. It can be in the shower.

You know, I can—I can be in an Uber and cry.

A lot of the times, it's when I'm watching a movie and I know what you're thinking, "That doesn't really count, does it?"

But I feel like I have bottled up emotions that maybe aren't enough for me to cry.

For me, it's kind of filling up that cup, and the movie kind of pushes me over the edge.

But if crying becomes overwhelming or uncontrollable, see a mental health professional for treatment.

Thanks for listening, and see you next time.

Stephanie talks about the importance of expressing your feelings and reminds us that it's ok to cry sometimes.

It's Okay to Cry

Hey everyone. It's Stephanie Poetri here, and one of my favorite places to spend an afternoon is to hang out at my local cafe.

Transport yourself to Stephanie's favorite cafe.

Stephanie Poetri

21 Questions with Stephanie

A City Sleep Story

Stephanie's Childhood Bedroom Soundscape

It's Okay to Cry

Indonesian Cafe Soundscape

Creating a World with Videogames

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