OOMPA LOOMPA

Moving to a new home.

2009-09-27T23:06:00.004+07:00

From today, this blog is moved to a new home:

http://www.silentrefraction.tumblr.com/

Thank you for anyone who visit this blog occasionally (and my 4 followers).

I really appreciate your visit and I hope you would drop by to my new blog.

It's still the same me, only with a new brighter and simpler look. :)

Up to you.

2009-09-27T01:17:00.003+07:00

Once.

2009-09-18T12:14:00.003+07:00

Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.

Bob Marley

Harry and Sally

2009-09-18T12:00:00.003+07:00

Today, I stumbled upon an interesting question: Can two people who have the potential for being attracted to one another remain “just friends”? Is it possible for individuals to keep a friendship alive without letting emotions or hormones get in the way?

I thought about this for a long while. I have certainly seen enough evidence in my own life to prove that it isn’t possible. But my life isn’t everyone else’s. I have also witnessed how inexplicably the magic of first attraction works. Still, as far as my personal experience goes, when two such friends are put in a situation when they have only themselves to answer to, it seems to me sex drive almost always has the last word. Maybe it’s human nature to be curious. Maybe the emotions between two friends who feel a mutual attraction to each other are just too strong to ignore. Maybe when the connection really feels right, the desire and constant curiosity to find out what makes each other happy and tick are just too great to put aside. Maybe it really is impossible to have a simple friendship with someone who shares desirability—on whatever level—with you. Maybe the fact that you want to stay in each other's lives makes it impossible for romance not to grow.

So what do you think? Can two people who find each other attractive on an emotional or physical level maintain a simple friendship, or are they just fooling themselves?

I'd say they are.

(Credits to Mike.)

This Meal's On Me.

2009-09-15T22:49:00.000+07:00

I’d reserved a table for my wife and me overlooking the ocean at one of my favourite restaurants in Newcastle, Australia. The restaurant was only a quarter full when we got there. A couple in their 30s were seated about three tables away. There was a subtle awkwardness in their manner that caught my attention. I’ve always been sensitive to the feelings and energy levels of other people. I got the immediate impression that this couple could rarely afford to eat out. At first I ignored the thought, but it kept popping back into my head.

I began to feel a strange urge to pay for their meals. I wasn’t wealthy, but I could afford it. so I followed my inclination and approached the maitre d’ to pay their bill. I was told that they had finished their courses and might still order coffees, but so far the bill came to $75.

When she asked why I was paying their bill I felt a little self-conscious as I tried to encapsulate my feelings. I finally replied, “When I saw that couple I got the feeling that they had to struggle to get what they’ve got. So I decided to pay their bill. But I don’t want you to tell them who paid it or why. Just treat it as a gift.”

When the couple went to settle their bill, a muffled exclamation could be heard throughout the restaurant. Later I asked the maitre d’ what happened. She said the young woman broke down into tears and exclaimed, “Nothing like this has ever happened to us before. We’ve never won anything or been given anything. Things like this just don’t happen to us.” But it did happen.

Now whenever I think of the incident, it brings on a smile as I remember how once, through empathy and intuition, I felt a strong desire to give freely to another.

Every Woman.

2009-09-13T21:30:00.004+07:00

A woman should have...
enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own,
even if she never wants to or needs to.

A woman should have...
something perfect to wear if the employer,
or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour.

A woman should have...
a youth she’s content to leave behind.

A woman should have...
a past juicy enough that she’s looking forward to retelling it in her old age.

A woman should have...
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.

A woman should have...
one friend who always makes her laugh, and one who lets her cry.

A woman should have...
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family.

A woman should have...
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems,
and a recipe for a meal, that will make her guests feel honored.

A woman should have...
a feeling of control over her destiny.

Every woman should know...
how to fall in love without losing herself.

Every woman should know...
how to quit a job, break up with a lover,
and confront a friend without; ruining the friendship.

Every woman should know...
when to try harder, and when to walk away.

Every woman should know...
that her childhood may not have been perfect but its over.

Every woman should know...
what she would and wouldn’t do for love or more.

Every woman should know...
how to live alone, even if she doesn’t like it.

Every woman should know...
whom she can trust,
whom she can’t,
and why she shouldn’t take it personally.

Every woman should know...
where to go, be it to her best friend’s kitchen table,
or a charming inn in the woods when her soul needs soothing.

Every woman should know...
what she can and can’t accomplish in a day, a month, and a year.

Every woman should know...
that she can’t change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents...

(By Maya Angelou)

Whose fault is it REALLY?

2009-09-12T13:25:00.005+07:00

I watched Dead Poets Society quite some times ago, maybe around last year. I first knew about the movie from the book I bought at a garage sale and it seemed to me like a good story. The book was written based on the movie so after reading the book, I just knew that I had to get a grip on the movie. Unfortunately, being in Indonesia like I am, it's sometimes very hard to find old movies. Good old movies. I tried searching every place I knew back then, but it was to no avail. So I only had the last option left. I watched it on Youtube. I never regretted it, because it was one of the most inspiring movie I've ever watched.

If you have watched the movie, you would probably have been left thinking after the movie ended. Neil, one of the character, had killed himself due to whichever reasons we were left to argue about. A discussion later on was raised on Dead Poets Society's Facebook group, asking the fans of the movie to express their opinions on who fault was it really that Neil committed the suicide. Here are some excerpts of the opinion.

Some agree that it was Neil's father's fault...

"It was Neil's father's fault. Acting wouldn't have hurt Neil going to med school so the father had no legitimate reason for not allowing him to do so. His father made him miserable and while it was Neil who pulled the trigger, if his father hadn't been so ignorant and harsh the suicide never would have happened." - Mike Darer

While some think that Neil himself was the one to blame...

"I think it was Neil's fault. Mr. Keating was trying to teach the boys to be individuals, not kill yourself. And, yes, Neil's father was an obastacle blocking Neil from his individualism but Neil, with some work, could have overcome. But he didn't work at it at all. He avoided the problem. In the end, his ultimate avoidance presented itself as suicide. Sure, Neil's father made life difficult but I'm not sure if I would blame him." - Emily Ouellette

"You guys are kinda missing the point since it was a suicide, the only person we can blame of Neil's death is well, Neil. Because neither Mr. Keating or Neil's father pulled the trigger. It was Neil. He made the choice to kill himself." - Stuart Benson

And Erica Baffa agreed with him,

"The above statement hit the nail on the head. In the end, Neil pulled the trigger, which made the scapegoating later all the more ridiculous. Then again, the "investigation" was encouraged by Neil's family, so in the end it's probably Neil's dad's fault that Keating lost his job." - Erica Baffa

Now here's what I think. I think, partially it's Mr. Keating's fault. He should've understood, or foreseen more clearly, that not all the boys had developed strong enough personality to discover who they really were. Some boys needed special and different approach than the others. Some found their own ways without his help. Like Knox, he found his own courage to talk to Chris through the poems, although it was true that Keating introduced them to the poems. It should be different with Neil. Neil's case wasn't the same as Knox, Mr. Keating couldn't just rely on the poems and expect Neil to figure out things by himself. And, I also sense Keating had a personal hope on him. Keating wanted Neil to succeed. I think it's the reason why he let down his guard a bit as a teacher whose job was to solely navigate his students' way, not telling him to go a certain way. His job was to SHOW what way might be the best for the student, but without pouring all his perspectives while he knew the student had high regard of his opinions. Keating took it a little bit too far when he told Neil that Neil should talk to his father or pursue his dream and crossed a boundary. He should've let Neil decide when was the best time to approach his own father and he should've prepared Neil until he developed a certain level of maturity before pushing him to do such confrontation which was clearly still being perceived as radical in society they were in. That way, Neil wouldn't be too fragile when obstacles hit him. I think Keating was too eager to see Neil succeed therefore he wasn't being as careful as he should be. I think he slipped and that's why he needed to leave because it was partly his fault.

I couldn't say any opinion was wrong because it can be interpreted from various perspectives. A girl has pointed out a very good point on how seeing this movie as we all should be. Here's what she said:

"Neil killed himself because at that moment, he had LIVED. "I went to the woods to live deliberately ... so that when it came time for me to die, I would not learn that I had not lived." Neil made the choice to kill himself. Mr. Keating wanted the boys, all of them, to make their own decisions for their own lives, so that when it came time for them to die, they would have lived by their own decisions. Neil's father was making deicisions for Neil, and Neil was still a minor, so it's not unusual in the 1950s for affluent parents to map out the lives of their children. Instead of growing a set, like Mr. Keating encouraged the boys to do, Neil killed himself. The movie isn't a disseratation on the reasons for suicide, it's an argument for living your life to the fullest. And it followed the traditional (and highly effective) formula of killing off one of the heroes so that the audience leaves thinking about what they've witnessed. If you don't kill one of the heroes, your message carries no weight. It's a happily ever after Disney story, whitewashed of all significance." - Erica Dunn

And her opinion solemnly closed the discussions for me.

The "Men" in My Life

2009-09-09T23:27:00.006+07:00

I found a blog post that raised an interesting subject: Who are the men in your life? I got into thinking and I thought it would be easy to answer it. The truth is, it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be even though I wouldn't consider it difficult to single out these men as the men in my life, either.

1. My father

My father has always been a contradiction in my life. He has played a great role in my life, both negatively and positively. He has always been a perfect father figure in terms of financial support. He raises his two daughters well and sends them to school. He takes full responsibility in their education and comfort in growing up. However, he has never been a caring father figure. In the younger days, I lacked so much of his affection that I grew up as a daughter feeling exiled from her own father. He had his share of secrets and abusive behavior whether they were verbal or physical, whether they were accidental or intentional. Having said all that, he is still an important man in my life and I love him. He's much a better man now and a loving father, too. I sense his abundant love towards me and my sister and I can feel nothing except touched and loved.

2. My English teacher

Carl is my second father. I recall our first encounter when he entered the class and introduced himself as the new teacher. I resented him and his trying-to-be-witty sense of humor. But then, I fell for his intelligence and his teaching style. He immediately became the only adult I could confide in. He was so understanding and supportive, he never got mad at me and he talked to me. He didn't look down on me or considered me as someone not worth his while. Instead, he took great interest in my development as an angry teenager and as a bright student. When I was in great despair, he showed me a way. When I was confused and tired, he gave me space and time. When I was back on my feet, he tapped my head and said, "Welcome back." He is the type of teacher that will constantly give me the hardest questions in exam only because he thinks that if he did otherwise, he would be underestimating my ability. He is the kind of teacher that will always look out for me and wish for the best thing for me. I reach all potentials within me because of him. I become who I am today with his help. He is my father, my friend, my brother, my teacher, my enemy and my guardian.

3. My Economics teacher

Paul is someone I shamelessly intend to learn so much from. He is my economics teacher, one who can actually provoke an interest in learning Economics within me. I hated the subject so I was appalled myself when I found myself enjoying his lectures. He is the kind of man who will make you want to admire him. His humble personality, his strong faith in his God, family and himself, his admiration towards his father, his knowledge, his intelligence, and his moral values are joined harmonically within him. He treats everyone as if they were special and he stands his ground firmly when he has to defend what he believes in. He has so many things to share to the world and he does spread a little bit wisdom here and there, trying to move as subtly as he can. He isn't the kind of man who wants to be known for what he does, but more of a man who wants the world to get a glimpse of the complexity of his profound thoughts. He chooses not to be ignorant but to be affectionate. He cares for matters and he wishes everyone to care, too. He is strongly opinionated and softly spoken. He is a great teacher by nature, even though he perhaps lacks the years of experience, as he likes to humbly convince everyone. He is the man behind the scene, unwilling to be recognized but eager to participate in making the world a better place.

4. My best friend

Seth is the one and only best friend I have who I've never even met before in my entire life. My encounter with him was the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me and yet, I'm glad it happened. My friendship with him was one of the easiest friendships I've ever experienced and one of the most natural things I've ever needed to do. Not only did we 'click' with each other but soon I found him as a person who I can seek advice from and talk about everything with. He is not judgmental. He is realistic and honest. He is persuasive and well-intentioned. He is the kind of person who will always tell you honestly about what he thinks and feels and yet, still can find the best way to utter them to you. He has big dreams and he can influence you easily with his spirit and vision. He can make you want the things he tells you, because he will make it sound too valuable not to experience. Talking to him is really, really easy. He is silly and clumsy in his own way, smart and opinionated in his own way, and special in every way. As crazy as this sounds, given the fact that I've never even talked to him in person, I appreciate his presence in my life as a dear friend and a good man. Having the chance to know him was truly a privilege.

So, who are the men in your life?

The Writer in Me

2009-09-09T21:00:00.002+07:00

I have my life as most people do.
I see my life as few people do.
I live my life a little bit differently.

My world is not just something I live and see.
My world is something bigger than this earth,
Beyond my imagination and resides on a paper.
I own my universe and I am free.
I am the ruler of my heart and mind,
Controlled by affection,
Filled with desire,
Ruled by truth,
Carefully and passionately.

When I surrender to someone,
It is not when I give up,
It is when I win the battle,
and reward myself with a prize.
I let no one stand in my way.
I am prisoner to no one.

I set things, I care for matters,
and I learn to complete them.
Whenever I fail,
I leave it a bit better than when I found it.
Being imperfect,
Doesn't mean I can't do perfect things.
I bear wisdom and possibilities,
and I run on reality to my dreams.

I create music in my heart,
then I dance with my pen and tap with my words.
To breathe is to write.
World may be against me all day long,
but nothing can keep me apart from imagination.
World may be turning into lies,
but away won't the words and ideas fly.

I hold nothing but faith.
I keep nothing but hopes.
I give up on no one,
I am a prisoner to no one.

I am myself when I create lines.
I am someone when I write.

I want to...

2009-09-03T02:26:00.006+07:00

...believe he's out there. Somewhere.

But,

Then I have days like today. Today, I don't believe. Today I realized it has been more than 5 years since someone loved me. It seems like forever. I've been trying to remember what it feels like and I can't.

I can't remember what it's like to talk until the sun comes up; to feel those butterflies every time I hear his name; to have someone to be the big spoon; to think of every time I listen to a song; to have someone for my own; to have someone to dote on and take care of; to have someone to come along on this journey - wherever it takes me. I can't remember what it's like to love someone and actually not have my heart broken in result.

Don't get me wrong, if you have already. I'm not a sappy girl who waits around for Mr. Right. I'm not a sappy girl who waits for The One. I don't buy those kinds of crap. I'm a happy girl living her life. I'm a happy girl pursuing her dreams. I'm a happy girl who just wants to be brave enough to love. I'm a happy girl who just happens to be very unlucky in love.

I miss it. Today I missed it a lot. I'm hoping tomorrow is better.

So,

I want to believe...

...believe he's out there. Somewhere. The actual thing is, I'm not sure if I want to hope anymore. I am tired of telling myself to hope for tomorrow. To hope that tomorrow will be better. I can say, at this point, that I'm really running low on faith.

101 Goals in 1,001 Days.

2009-08-26T14:45:00.007+07:00

The concept is simple: Think of 101 goals that you can accomplish in 1,001 days. They can be big or small. When you do accomplish one, cross it out and share your progress with everyone.

My Goals:
001. Horseback ride along a beach.
002. Sing and play on the piano.
003. Write a song.
004. Taste at least 20 wine types.
005. Eat something exotic.
006. Spend an entire day cooking a fancy meal.
~~007. Send poor kids to school.~~ [DONE]
008. Get my own apartment.
009. Spend an afternoon in a buffet, until I am kicked out.
010. Get a pen pal.
011. Laugh until my cheek feels bloated, my ribs hurt and my tears run dry.
012. Paint my bedroom wall.
013. Spend days at Disneyland until there's nothing left to see.
014. Backpack across a new unknown land.
015. Begin writing a book.
016. Read "To Kill A Mockingbird".
017. Make a commemorative scrapbook for someone.
018. Go bungee jumping in someone's arms.
019. Spend one night doing nothing but watching childhood films.
020. Turn a stranger into a friend in the course of a day.
021. Visit United States.
022. Purchase a bean bag.
023. Stand before the real Mona Lisa painting at Louvre Museum, Paris.
024. Flirt with a fine Greek lad.
025. Spend a weekend on the beach in a tent.
026. Learn French fluently.
027. Kiss in the rain.
028. Get a tattoo.
029. Sleep under the stars.
030. Make a wish on a falling star.
031. Write a poem for someone.
032. Let myself cry freely in public.
033. Visit England's countryside.
034. Play a song on piano fluently.
035. Lift a stranger's heart.
036. Smile at every person I see.
037. Write old-fashioned love letters to someone.
038. Listen to at least, 5 new songs each month.
039. See what's inside a Playboy magazine.
040. Attend a costume party.
041. Take a homeless person out to lunch.
042. Find an editor that likes me enough to work with me.
043. Learn how to make lasagna.
044. Write a story worth filming into a movie.
045. Start building my dream organization.
046. Spend an entire day barefoot.
047. Watch sunset from a helicopter.
048. Turn off my phone for a full 24 hours.
049. Dance with someone in the rain.
050. Learn and do water photography.
051. Get my blog published.
052. Go to Wicklow National Park in Ireland.
053. Create a mixtape.
054. Have a happy and meaningful birthday.
055. Attend a funeral for someone I have never met before.
056. Meet more new friends from Internet, real good people, not freaks.
057. Teach a child how to read.
058. Practice Pay It Forward.
059. Walk down the road holding hands in a cold winter night.
060. Wear different unmatched shoes.
061. Have a hot bath completed with scented candles.
062. Set aside a day to ride the busses until nightfall and see where I end up.
063. Buy a new laptop, or should I just say, Macbook.
064. Gaze at a starry sky with someone.
065. Make someone realize that they are worth loving.
066. Jump on a trampoline until super happy and exhausted.
067. Visit South Korea.
068. Work a part-time job.
069. Make a scrapbook of my own dreams.
070. Ride an elevator up and down, converse with the different people who get on.
071. Hand out Valentines to strangers on a day that isn’t Valentine’s Day.
072. Have a meaningful conversation on a swing set.
073. Spend a Valentine's Day with a loved one.
074. Stop and listen to singers who sing at subways.
075. Go an entire week without eating rice.
076. Wake up beside a special someone.
077. Spend an entire day volunteering at a homeless shelter.
078. Learn Braille.
079. Take one walk at the park; just me and my thoughts.
080. Pay someone's toll ticket.
081. Wish happy holiday to a stranger.
082. Attend an art festival.
083. Surprise a stranger with a simple thoughtful deed.
084. Go through my contact list and delete all the people who I no longer talk to.
085. Sing a song to someone I love.
086. Carve my name into a tree.
087. Get a good paying job.
~~088. Drink more tea than coffee.~~ [DONE]
089. Tell my friends and family that I love them every day.
090. Settle financially.
091. Make a cool drink.
092. Win a game of Otello against Paulus.
093. Jump into a pile of leaves.
094. Play paint ball.
095. Kiss the most handsome guy in the planet.
096. Watch all my movie collection.
097. Color every picture in a coloring book.
098. Write a letter to no one, put it into a bottle and release it to the sea.
~~099. Touch a student's life.~~ [DONE]
100. Sleep on a water bed.
101. Fall in love.

Start date: August 26, 2009.
End date: June 20, 2012.

Life and what it is about.

2009-08-26T14:38:00.001+07:00

Sometimes it feels like I’m waiting for something. Actually, it almost always feels like I’m waiting for something. Waiting for dinner to cook. Waiting for that special person to call. Heck, waiting just to find that special person. Waiting for the weekend. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for the “too good to be true” to show its real colors. Always waiting. But life is like that, I suppose. If we spend our time trying to reach a particular destination, we miss out on everything in between. If we are waiting to find our soulmate, we are missing out on all the lovely people who fill in the gaps. If we are waiting until we are completely content, we are missing out on the little moments that make life beautiful. And if we are waiting for the day when we wake up and everything makes sense, we are simply wasting our time.

Life is made up of all those wonderful, awkward, unforgettable “in-between” moments. Life is that drunk night you can’t remember or the starry sky that you never wanted to look away from. Life is when you hold your mother's wrinkled hand in yours and feel bursting gratitude in your heart. Life is that perfect moment when you lock eyes with a stranger and then continue on your way. Life is the person who calls you just to make sure that you’re okay or the laughter that fills a room of friends. Life is stopping to smell the flowers and smiling at people you don’t know. Life is when you decide to lift someone's spirit and spend time to care for them. Life is reading a good piece of literature and appreciate its beauty. Life is the minutes you spend with a person who you care deeply about.

Life doesn’t have a destination. Stop waiting for it, and start living.

(From Mike.)

Conformity versus Individuality.

2009-08-25T12:59:00.007+07:00

We live in a world where it is wrong to be an individual.

No one lives alone, so people say. No one can live alone. I agree. However, this has nothing to do with the statement above. This does not justify the social view's on people who choose to live as a complete individual. Most of the times, when people choose to live individually, it is viewed as strange. Or worse, sick. You see, "individual" is not alone. Being individual means that you're being independent. That you choose to live your life the way you want it, not regulated by numerous social rules and regulations.

When we were little children, we were always asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" And when we didn't come up with any answer, our parents would tell us, "You have to know what you want to be. You can be anything you want to be, don't be afraid. Feel free to choose any dream you want." They also would ask us, "If someone jumps off the cliff, would you do it, too?" These questions triggered the idealist in us. These questions gave us a little taste of freewill and determination to take our fate in our own hands. These questions were supposed to plant in us the sense of individuality, that you don't need anybody to make life decisions for you. Then we grew up. And in the process, at some points in life, parents started to convey their hopes and dreams. They would tell us, "When I was your age, I was more daring than you are." Or they would simply say, "When you become a mother, I hope you will do what I do and understand how it feels to be a mother." Now, these parents are telling their kids how they wish their kids could be more like them. They are telling the kids that if they become like their parents, they will be more responsible adults and have good moral values. Are you confused? I am.

Little have you understood those conflicting emotions yet, you then entered school. You then found out that the only way to survive at school was by following certain 'trends' or 'rules'. You need, at some point, define who you are based on how much you want to be accepted. If you want to be popular, you gotta be one of those popular kids. If you want to be perceived as smart, you need to be a geek. Sometimes, things could get too extreme and you look like you're trying too hard. You have to behave like everyone else or you will get erased by the social circle and be labeled as the 'anti-social' or the 'public-embarrassment'. Society puts borderlines between people. They draw circles and count everyone in or out all the time. You want to be in, you don't want to be separated from other people or counted out. Now, who cares about individuality? This is called surviving.

It doesn't stop there. Your parents would advise you to befriend the 'good friends' and avoid the 'bad friends'. Your friends would tell you to do things they do otherwise, you would no longer be their friends. And while everything is happening so messily, there would always be certain groups of people, like teachers or other adults, who would treat you a certain way because of who your friends are. And they say, school isn't difficult.

And then it's time to decide what kind of things that will define you. What kind of clothing to wear or what kind of things to say. On the TV, you would see hundreds or thousands of advertisements that are constantly telling you what 'nice' dress to wear or 'nice' style to have. They have models, slogans, lifestyles and they have TV, radio, newspapers, and billboards as their medium of disposal. They battle to win your money by telling you how you should live your life. And these are all so confusing. By the time you make your decision, the trend is already over and you are faced with the same endless cycle. And this happens to everyone at all points in their life process.

What time do you have to go to bed, what kind of car should you be driving, what kind of boy should you hook up with, what kind of daughter is considered as a good one, what kind of drink do you order at bars, what college are you going to after graduating high school, what kind of major are you going to take, what kind of companies do you choose to be a part of, which dress are you going to wear to the party tonight, which correct shoes are you going to wear at your wedding day, when will your honeymoon destination be? The list is never ending. You will always be perceived as right or wrong, a good person or not, based on these things you do or choose to have. See, I'm not saying these aren't important things. I'm saying, what people think of what you choose is never important compared to your decisions and your decisions alone.

The concept of conformity has reached its own new era of definition. It has regulated our lives so perfectly and so anonymously that you are no longer clear on what to do or what to have. Companies advertise and ask us to define our own selves and choose our own styles, but they are urging us to a new concept of conformity: trend follower. You arrive at a point where you are no longer aware if your personality is in fact your own, or the society has formed and created for you.

If you buy a Louis Vuitton bag because you want a bag, it contains a big difference than if you buy the bag because of the prestige you're about to have. If you buy a pair of trainers triggered by the your need of a running shoes rather than its billboard slogan, a prevailing big difference do exist. Now can we arise from these never-ending cycle of destruction? Some would say no. Some would believe that if we do succeed in pulling ourselves out of this black hole of social capitalism, we would only be dragged back into the cycle with or without we knowing. But I say, we can. The questions of which things to have or do or say will always be existent in every second of our lives, but it doesn't mean we can't control them. We can control them, and choose what is the best for us or what we do really want, rather than putting society's opinion as the foundation of our decisions. It matters when you choose to do something because it will make you happy, not because it will be perceived as righteous by the society.

However, like old men would argue, norms are there for a reason. This, I agree with, too. You can have anything you want, do anything you want to, say anything you feel like, date any boy you like, wear any dress you think as pretty, as long as it doesn't trample on other people's happiness. It all goes back to the blending of individuality and tolerance concept. You can be yourself and claim any kind of life you want, as long as you don't hurt people in process of doing so. Happiness that come from sacrificing other people's happiness do not mean much, after all. It's as bad as having people live your life for you. So, the idea of individuality is something we have yet to define for ourselves. To which extent can we satisfy our own needs to be free and idealist individuals without crossing the borderline of telling people how to live their lives or making their lives, even if it's only slightly, unhappier? If you can answer that particular question and derive a positive phrasing when answering, you've beaten those odds and you have broken through the hellish endless cycle of conformity.

A kind much closer than friends use.

2009-08-23T01:14:00.004+07:00

Hello, tell me you know
Yeah, you figured me out
Something gave it away
And it would be such a beautiful moment
To see the look on your face
To know that I know that you know now

And baby that's a case of my wishful thinking
You know nothing
Cause you and I
Why, we go carrying on for hours, on and
We get along much better
Than you and your girlfriend

Well all I really wanna do is to love you
A kind much closer than friends use
But I still can't say it after all we've been through
And all I really want from you is to feel me
As the feeling inside keeps building
And I will find a way to you if it kills me
If it kills me

Well how long, can I go on like this,
Wishing to kiss you,
Before I rightly explode?
This double life I lead isn't healthy for me
In fact it makes me nervous
If I get caught I could be risking it all

Baby there's a lot that I miss
In case I'm wrong

Well all I really wanna do is to love you
A kind much closer than friends use
But I still can't say it after all we've been through
And all I really want from you is to feel me
As the feeling inside keeps building
And I will find a way to you if it kills me
If it kills me

If I should be so bold
I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand
Tell you from the start how I've longed to be your woman
But I never said I would
I guess I'm gonna miss my chance again

All I really wanna do is to love you
A kind much closer than friends use
But I still can't say it after all we've been through
And all I really want from you is to feel me
As the feeling inside keeps building
And I will find a way to you if it kills me
If it kills me
If it kills me
I think it might kill me

And all I really want from you is to feel me
It's a feeling inside that keeps building
And I will find a way to you if it kills me
If it kills me
If it kills me
It might kill me

{If It Kills Me} -- Jason Mraz, with a slight edit to better read.
from The Casa Nova Sessions

Whose independence are we celebrating today, again?

2009-08-17T21:53:00.003+07:00

Today, Indonesia is celebrating its Independence Day. Today is a day of celebration.

Last night, I had a slight fever. I had planned to spend August 17th at the gym. Working out makes me feel good and enhances my sense of well-being. But the fever apparently had ruined my plans. So I woke up at 9 in the morning and sat down with an absent-minded grin on my face. Today is supposed to be a big day. But why am I feeling so hollow inside?

I ate my breakfast and turned on the TV. Lots of funny, or trying to be, quizzes on various channels. The usual stuffs. Lots of patriotic advertisements by big companies. There were also governmental advertisements. One of which is about how all Indonesians can now access to a free 9-year education. I felt good watching that. I smiled. Then I switched the channel.

---

A little boy was collecting raw fish from the street. He was a boy living near the shore. Everyday after school, he and his friends would collect raw fish spilt unknowingly by fishermen. They then sold the fish to the nearest cheap market in which they sell low-quality (what I mean by low-quality are actually inappropriate to consume) food to poor people. The boy, Arif, does this everyday to help his mother pay for his supposed-to-be-free education. Sixty-four years of independence but still, education is only a minor privilege and a major luxury.

An old woman, around 50 years old, named Nur sells cockle shells everyday to earn 1,500 rupiahs for every kilos. She can sell 10 kilos per day and that would give her 15,000 rupiahs per day. Sixty-four years of independence but still, some old people have spent most of their years in total poverty.

A little village near Bogor, a province with the second largest government regional financial support in whole Java, still lacks from electricity. Regardless in such a modern age Indonesia lives today, some parts of it are still pitch black. At noon, their lives are just as ordinary as any other Indonesians'. But at night, the story changes. They have to use traditional oil lamps and lots of candles to prevent them from tripping over the edge of the cliffs or simply to see each other's smiles. The kids insist to study under dim candle lights, knowing that nothing can ever compensate the importance of education. Sixty-four years of independence but still, Indonesia is darkness.

A school at one of the largest province in Indonesia had such delicate foundation that the building nearly collapsed when strong wind and heavy rain hit it. Now the kids struggle to continue their classes outside the building, amidst the hot sunshine and polluted air. They lined up neatly on any surface they found, their teachers squatted down to check their works and tried to explain the subjects the best they could. We say that we are a nation who offers utmost protection to young generation. Sixty-four years of independence and still, we can't provide a rooftop over the children's heads.

A baby died few weeks ago. Not from terminal disease that requires millions of rupiahs worth of surgery. Not from lack of nutritional food. But from getting hot boiling soup splashed on her. She was sleeping peacefully inside his stroller, or cart, when her parents' business were taken down by police. Their parents sell soup with meatballs along the roadside at a cheap local market. The police tore the business down, burned the cart and spilled the soup on the baby in process. She died immediately afterwards. Sixty-four years of independence and still, we use the without-solution excuses such as traffic disciplining to tear down the only business a poor family possesses.

A massage centre in Java has been operating for years. It's not very successful but it's still running. The only reason why it still is, is because it's owned by a blind man called Drajat. People trust blind people to massage their bodies and people pity blind folks. As a differently-abled citizen, what Drajat needs isn't pity. What he needs isn't support. What he needs is his right as a citizen. Whenever he's sick or in need of dealing with an administrative plea, he gets rejected. Apparently in Indonesia, bureaucracy discriminates. Blind people are second-class citizens and are not worthy of any service. Sixty-four years of independence and still, our democracy and equality resonance in hollow echoes.

Hundreds of Indonesia children live their lives on the street. They spend their days trying to survive from what people throw on the street. They play with danger and they kid with death. They are not only poor but they are also running low on faith. Instead of being somewhere safe and getting proper education, they fight with police officers who try to sweep away their existence. Most of them are only aged between 4 to 9. Sixty-four years of independence and still, we fail our constituency that regulates government's role as the protector and benefactor of homeless people and street children.

--

For those who think I'm blaming the government, you are mistaken.
You are not seeing the big picture here. Let me explain.

If there is one thing certain in this world, my friends, it is that crisis will strike from time to time. I don’t know why the world is designed in such a way. What saddened me isn't how all these pitiful events are still occurring but how less (not how many) people actually pay any slightest attention to them and do something about them. To me, it is even more interesting to see that how it is in this kind of situation human nature is truly revealed. It always amazes me how people always choose the easy way out when faced with difficult situations. A new disease breaks out, and no, it doesn’t really matter how we should support each other to overcome the crisis. That can wait. Let’s FIRST find out who started this. Let’s blame somebody. Blaming the government is the easiest escape. We are too used to taking the easy way out in life that it has been part of our nature. What disturbs me is to see how depressingly materialistic and apathetic human has become these days. Here on the brighter side of the earth, some men with full bellies enslave themselves for more money, ready to sacrifice even their humanity. And no, still no empathy for the less fortunate. I can’t see, my friends, what you are celebrating today for.

I know now why I am feeling so hollow inside. You see, today is not Indonesia's Independence Day. Today is not a day for celebration. Today is a day to reflect on how poorly we are still doing until today. Today is a day to reminisce what fights we have gone through and what fights we have to go through. Today is a day to preserve the good fights and struggle harder for freedom and equality. Today is a day to realize that Indonesia isn't freed completely yet. Today is a day to realize that Independence Day is something we have not had within our grasp.

Very much true, Indonesia is no longer under any international colonization. No country is trying to take over us. Thanks to the crusaders who presented us this constitutional freedom. Thanks to them for this freedom to draw our own laws and regulations. However, we are doing no justice to those who fought their lives for this country's freedom. Constitutional freedom and humanity freedom does not come in one package. Moral degradation and human inequality peeks gleefully from every corners of our country. Sixty-four years of so-called independence and still, we are never truly independent.

Fellows, we are mostly only lingering in the pretense of it.

(Thanks to Keti, my newly found friend.)

Anyone Else... But You.

2009-08-15T22:00:00.005+07:00

You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on your back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train
I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me
So why can't, you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

I will find my nitch in your car
With my mp3 DVD rumple-packed guitar
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

Du du du du du du du du
Du du du du du du du du
Du du du du du du du du

Up up down down left right left right B A start
Just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

You are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

We both have shiny happy fits of rage
You want more fans, I want more stage
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

Don Quixote was a steel driving man
My name is Adam, I'm your biggest fan
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

Squinched up your face and did a dance
You shook a little turd out of the bottom of your pants
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you.

Du du du du du du du du
Du du du du du du du du
Du du du du du du du du
But you.

Nightmares.

2009-08-04T20:57:00.003+07:00

"The untold truths of wisdom lie solely in the beating of the heart of an ill-treated child whose wounds will heal and heart will seal, but memory will never die." -Savannah Marion

---

I hear your loud screaming

As I scramble down under my bedcover.

Your angry, hateful obscenities are getting louder.

I try to cover my ears.

Your footsteps stop outside my door.

Suddenly, the door opens up.

I shake in terror in the dark

As you shove me violently down to the floor.

You start to yell at me,

Verbally abuse me.

Learning a long time not to talk back

I only listen, intimidated and terrified.

A sudden blow on my head interrupts my silent prayers.

Another blow on my upper arm.

My back, my tiny legs, my and my neck.

Stop bashing me up!

I cry out, hurt and traumatized

In agony I howl.

The only thing I get in return is

Another strike for being too loud.

Help me, Papa.

Take me away from the nightmare I'm in.

Papa is nowhere in sight

While his little girl is being slapped.

Where are you?

Why aren't you helping me?

All I can hear is the sound of my tears rolling.

I can taste my salty tears in my mouth.

Mommy pulls me by my hair.

Shouting how unfortunate to her I am.

Help me, Papa.

Help me.

Under the light I see my bruises and scars.

My legs trembled

My black-and-blue arms

My ears ringing

I look around, whimpering

As Mommy cries out, "Shut up,

You unfortunate girl! Everyone will hear!"

I cut short, scared to death.

As I lie here on the cold floor,

My tears are streaming without control.

As a little child, little did I know,

That my own mother is slowly killing my soul.

The thought of being alone terrifies me,

I start to sob loudly.

Knowing I have got to stop,

I bite my lips bitterly.

Too late,

Mommy comes back.

She shouts at me as being unfortunate,

And how she regrets having me born.

Help me.

I slowly drift away.

Coldness surrounds my heart and freezes it.

Maybe I am dying,

Maybe that will be better.

I wake up in the next morning,

All bruises and scars are healing.

Instead of angry face I saw last night,

She smiles and kisses me with warmth.

"You shouldn't be a bad child,

It's your fault you had to endure the punishment!"

She pats me on the head,

Walking away.

I feel a little bit better,

Believing it was all my faults.

Determined to make it all well,

I put on a new hope and smile.

A short while later after being better...

I still am cautious in everything I do.

I watch everything I say,

Not wanting to get beaten up again.

It seems like I am never right,

It seems like I am never enough,

I know I'll soon face what my heart is scared of

I know it's matter of time until I'm bruised again.

I wake up with sweats all over my body,

And realize these all happened a long time ago.

I am well now and I love my mother,

But the nightmares will stay with me forever.

(Thanks Hawon Lee)

Accepting Compliments.

2009-08-03T22:12:00.003+07:00

Like many women, I have trouble accepting compliments. Part of my resistance is linked to matters of modesty: I want the world to see that I love myself, but don’t want the world to believe that I LOOOOOOOOOVE myself. I have a tough time figuring out when I appear healthily proud of my innate hotness, and when I’m coming off as a self-absorbed weenie. It’s a fine line, ya know?

And then, of course, there’s the disbelief factor. Seriously? You think I have great smile? You love this dress on me? You’re probably just making conversation. Or being polite. Or maybe you just got back from an eye appointment and your pupils are the size of hubcaps and EVERYTHING looks sparkly to you. I want to believe people when they say nice things about me--my style, my looks, my talents--but doubt often eclipses acceptance.

I work at it, though. I actively practice both accepting compliments and giving them. When my internal naysayer yammers, I drown her out with reminders that compliments are verbal gifts. Doubting them is both rude and ridiculous. After all, why would a person go out of her way to remark aloud on something if she didn’t truly find it pleasing?

Deflecting compliments from friends and strangers carries the risk of slight insult. Doubting the people who likes me hurts them. Especially if it's someone that likes you. You know. And, my dears, that simply won’t do.

Now some of you are in relationships; some aren't. But I’m telling you right now: Regardless of relationship status, when a man says that you have sexy hips or fabulous personality or beautiful smile, you’ve got to believe him.

Here are three important reasons to accept the compliments.

1. Taste is a very real phenomenon. Just as people have preferences for certain types of food and clothing and music, people have preferences for certain types of personalities. Just because YOU don’t love certain part of yourself, doesn’t mean your man can’t go crazy for them. Give him some credit for knowing what he likes most.

2. Compliments are gifts. You may struggle to love your own body every day--as so many women do, myself included. What better reason to soak up those adoring words? Think of any compliments that your loved one gives you as glimpses of yourself from his perspective. And revel in them.

3. You've gotta trust the man. As you’ve no doubt heard ad nauseum, trust is a pillar of all successful relationships. Refusing a compliment from your man reveals a lack of trust. You don’t trust him to be honest with you, you don’t trust him to judge what is beautiful, you don’t trust him to say something genuinely nice about you without harboring an ulterior motive. He might feel these and any number of other doubts when you brush him off.

I know it’s hard, but work at it. I do. When he compliments you, thank him for being so sweet. When he sings his praises, let that desire and adoration radiate through you. When you’re shining and he exclaims out loud, "You are beautiful.", don’t you dare say, “Oh, stop it.”

Instead, say, “Gracias, baby!"

What I Love About My Friend.

2009-08-02T12:06:00.003+07:00

I have a friend who:

- makes silly analogies with me when we talk.

- talks English with me.

- is always honest with me, although sometimes they're not pleasant things to hear.

- listens to me even though he's thousand miles away.

- lights up from deep slumber whenever I mention anything resembling to word 'Cheese'

- knows about my dark secrets, my hopeful dreams and my recent occurrings.

- loves music as much as I do and read more books than me.

- tells me about his sometimes-hopeless customers of the day and the Triple M.

- I can have the most interesting word game ever with.

- would definitely sit with me in a coffee shop while I cry over an unworthy boy.

- encourages my passion and even reminds me of its importance and urgency.

- can bring my mood down and up at one single day.

- shares my love for good food and good liquors.

- waits patiently until I screw up enough courage to do what I think I would never do.

- is prone to accidents but still offers to be my bodyguard.

- buys lame chinese soup on my recommendation when he's sick although he loathes the soup.

- I can say okay to very easily whenever he starts his sentence by, "Just take my advice..."

- would definitely succeed in making me get on the most horrifying roller coaster even though I'm terrified.

- adores cheese but hates cheesecake.

- tries to take care of me as best as he can.

- is the only guy friend I let to take care of me.

- talks to me every damn day about everything and nothing under the sun; his sun and my sun.

- I would spend hours to talk to just because I want to.

- I have a crush on and has a crush on me.

- knows about my little scared self and still doesn't jerk away, till now.

My Patronus.

2009-07-30T02:07:00.009+07:00

If you had read Harry Potter's books, you would've been familiar with Patronus Charm. It's a charm cast to get rid of Dementors, creatures that suck the life out of you. Dementors create this miserable feeling around you that makes you feel you're in great despair out of no logical reasons. Earlier, I had been thinking... we all have our Dementors, don't we all? There are things that make you feel very sad out of nowhere and just suck the happiness out of you. So... if you had to cast a Patronus charm to rid of the heavy feelings... what would your happiest memories be? I got into thinking... and voila, I have my list :)

1. Quoting lines from movies. Oh, I love doing this! I don't quote from famous people because I think that's... common. Everyone does that. But the characters in movies... they're people. Real people. Real life story. Oh, I love it.

2. Watching a cartoon movie and laughing uncontrollably. It makes me feel like I'm redeeming all the happy times I've lost or didn't have in my earlier years.

3. A nice cool room to sleep in. The theory is so simple: you can always have more blankets but you can't be more naked if it's too hot to handle.

4. Cuddling. Sitting together. No words spoken. That's life.

5. Holding hands. Unlike other people, I like holding hands when walking. And light chats exchanged along with it. Who wouldn't love it?

6. A high defined conversation. Not TV. Conversation. I like conversing. Especially with my person. Or should I say, people. Talking about nothing, talking about everything. Feeling all the feeling. It's enriching and always, always makes me happy.

7. A cocky person who finally gets what he or she deserves. Urgh, I feel so satisfied whenever I see a cocky person gets humiliated. So wrong, but damn, I hate cocky people very, very much.

8. Writing. I suck. But it makes me happy. Period.

9. Self-degrading jokes. In a twisted way, self-degrading jokes always make me laugh. Apparently, I think that beyond the laughs, it really takes a very big-hearted and optimistic person to laugh at him or herself. But please, self-degrading jokes. Not lack of self-confidence.

10. Dreams. Things that I want to do, things that I want to have, they're addictive. I can think about them all day and feel happy because of them. The yearning is sometimes too intense to bear but it does make me happier.

11. Games! Witty games shared among friends. Lame games that make us all laugh until our face become silly. Games that bring us closer than before.

12. Watching P.S. I Love You. Great story, great music, great guys, great lines, do I need to say more? It's Gerard Butler and Jeffrey Dean Morgan in one freaking movie. I will one day watch this movie with the love of my life. I swear to God.

13. Starbuck's iced green tea latte. The milk... yum.

14. Sitting with someone playing music in the room. Piano. Violin. Guitar. You name it. Watching the person plays beautifully and letting the mind wander... it's really magical. You wouldn't have known if you hadn't tried it.

15. Humming. Not singing. I repeat, not singing. I don't sing. I hum. That's the best I can do. Or if miracle happens, I sing along. Along people, along songs. I don't sing alone. I sing along.

16. The time my old English teacher hugged me and said, "I never thought I'd say this and you will not, ever, hear me saying this again, but I'm really, really proud of you."

17. Fooling my little sister. Once, I wanted her to do something from me so I told her, "You know what, if one day you can be older than me, I'll do things for you. Now, just do this for me." She bought it. And that triumphant feeling... I can't help but to tell the world about it.

18. Every time my person says something to me that makes me realize that he or she really gets me. He gets me. She gets me. That is the greatest feeling one can have. Total opposite of feeling lonely. Can you imagine that? :)

19. The cool fresh air when you're standing in front of a mountain resort at 6 o'clock in the morning with your eyes closed.

20. The smell of the fresh cut grass below your body when you lie upon a grassland.

21. Talking to a blind man.

22. Beautiful English wordings. In two other words: Jane Austen. See, now she can make anyone wants to learn English.

23. Watching babies asleep. I do this often, and don't ask me how. I just do, and I love it. The peacefulness is really healing.

24. Horse riding. Oh God. There's no outdoor activity can top this one. Riding a horse across a grass field or even rocky roads... or along the beach line... Ah.

25. The moment when I teach someone about something I presume would be valuable to her survival, and he or she listens intently at me, and I just can see that what I'm teaching him or her is sinking in... I feel like I've touched a life.

26. The first time my mother hugged me. Not as a baby.

And if I did have a Patronus Charm, it'd be in a form of a horse. Beautiful, strong, healthy horse. Definitely.

Live life. Love life. Cheers.

Never say never.

2009-07-29T23:51:00.001+07:00

We spend our whole lives worrying about the future, planning for the future, trying to predict the future, as if figuring it out will cushion the blow. But the future is always changing. The future is the home of our deepest fears and wildest hopes. But one thing is certain when it finally reveals itself. The future is never the way we imagined it.

A tribute to Indonesia... or an attempt at one.

2009-07-24T01:31:00.003+07:00

Yeah, I wrote this. And I'm never good in poems. But I tried. Hmph.

---

Starry Sky

Stop and look at the star-lit sky.
Studded with stars that cannot fly.
Stand on the grassland and stare at them,
Shining gleefully onto the bamboo stems.

Pause and watch the sparkling stream,
Sitting calmly under the moonlight beam.
Water so cold with hundred mysteries,
Waiting for a knight to dip and reveal.

Hold your breath and watch the world,
Eyes fixed and all tongues curled.
Wait for the incoming shred of hope,
Ready to relinquish all tragedies foretold.

written by Nicole.

Two local foreigners invading the city! [Part Two]

2009-07-23T01:19:00.001+07:00

Written by Amanda!

ok, I know it's about almost too late to write this note, but I promised and still want to... so here is the second part of this note...

last we speak, B and Andy had just left Museum Bank Mandiri for Museum Nasional..
we took busway to get there... and all along the way, we kept on being quite a neck breaker... no, not because we started to look like a real foreigner.. it's only because we're still wearing our sunglasses.. LOL.. (I wonder why it seems so weird here to wear sunglasses... considering our striking sun...)

ok, back to the story.. we got off the bus at Monumen Nasional stop... it was right in front of the museum nasional... (oh, btw, in case any of you doesn't know yet, museum nasional is museum gajah....) and yet I wonder again why the bus stop was named Monumen Nasional while it's still about half a kilometer away from Monas' entrance, yet it's right in front of Museum Nasional....

we entered the Museum's gate, and took just few picture around the front yard... and not to forget speaking in English while doing so... now, the souvenir seller that heard us talking instantly assumed that we're foreign tourists... VOILA! and the museum's staff that hear the souvenir guy talking in English to us also instantly assumed that we're foreign tourists.... another voila...! xD
so we succeeded buying the ticket in English,,
and we look down at the ticket,,
and at the price.........
"adult ticket price: Rp 750
children ticket price: Rp 250"

no. way.
this is way to cheap!!!
and B seems to agree even more to me in this!
and she is a Chinese...! she's supposed to be, mm, scrooge? haha, LOL... just kidding...

anyway, this turn out to be the best museum we went to today...
started by a psycho king statue that stand on a pile of skulls and have Buddha on it's head,,

then off to accessories store.. ups, I mean ancient accessories display, that looks a lot like what we wear today... (and they say this is the LATEST fashion?)

and as it turns out, they have miniature houses that looks a lot like the real one,, and it's AS BIG AS the ones in taman mini! look look...!

well, then again, what I meant is it was as big as 1/20 of the ones in taman mini... xP LOL

and then, we went to various rooms, got followed by local-sundanese-talking kids that seemed to believe that we're foreigners... so we went to other room, which happen to display traditional clothing and masks and so on... in the middle of admiring (and giggling at times (don't ask why, there's just always something funny to find in those traditional thingy)) those local-sundanese-talking kids APPROACH US!!
they asked if they can take a picture with us

holy shit! huahahahahahahaha.....! finally, somebody, some people in fact, believe that we're actually foreigners, so much that they want to take picture with us....
well, since they've annoyed us (read: me) for a while then, we (read: I) neglected to ask for another picture with them to be taken by our cameras.... so, no picture for you guys..... sorry...

anyway, we then go further into that room, and while B said that this is her most favourite room of all,, I, on the other hand, notice 3 things about this room...
first: it's porno

second: it's bluntly porno

third: it's unbelievably porno..

WHAT THE HECK IS THAT STATUE DOING???

good God... and she said this is her favourite room.... hmmm...

anyway, enough with the porno room... we're off to the other part of the museum now! yeay! the one that's connected by the glass bridge.... the one that seems kinda exiting (because this part has a big banner outside it...)
and just when we're opening the door to the bridge,,
a security staff is already there to greet us,,
and he said:
"maaf mba, kita mau tutup dulu buat makan siang......"

................
"sorry? what? I don't understand a word you said..."
...........
@!#$%^&%$#@%(*@^#&$*&^@%^&#%*$^&^@$&#$^!!!!!
DAMN!

ok... since we were foreign tourists, and foreign tourists are polite (or so we assumed), we gave up trying to get more of this museum, and off to find something to eat.... meanwhile, the nearest restaurant around is in sarinah... so we went there, gave up our english-speaking manner, and eat at hot planet.... haha!

and once we sat down, somehow the willingness to continue the journey kinda evaporated... and this is why we ended up not going to Monas.... LOL... we're both such procrastinator that often ended up not doing things... so hot planet is the last place we went to...

while sitting there, chatting, we realize one thing,,
there are so many things we can do in only half a day...
and hadn't we went on the journey that day, the only things we'd most likely have done would only be taking a bath and going to campus.... so much for the overrated education.. xP

it was such a fun day... not exactly relaxing, not physically... but definitely was a very nice getaway...
you should try that someday... while we both here are also looking forward to other journeys.. oh! and we also welcome anyone who'd like to join us...

anyway, this is the only picture that has both of us...
(most of the time we took only each others' pic)

greetings, Andy and B

People from All Around The World.

2009-07-17T01:25:00.006+07:00

This is based on my real life experience, one I rarely tell people about.

I feel lucky that I've got the chance to know some nice people around the world. I've come to realize that there are so many things I've yet to see and so many lessons I've yet to learn. Meeting these people from all around the world opens my eyes to the unknown treasures. As one once said, "What's life without a little bit risk?" Life is a chance you have to take on. It's short. And you can only have it once. If we don't do what we want to right now, how do we know that the same opportunity will present itself twice in our life? This is not about learning and trying new things. This is also about opening your heart to accept and get to know new people.

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them."

How true. Sometimes, we spend the whole time judging everyone we meet and we simply overlook their unique characteristics and forget to love them. In every person, there is the bright and the dark side. There's a good side and the evil side. What matters is which side we choose to act on. Of course, nobody's perfect. It is difficult to see all the goodness in every person and love them anyway. Why is it difficult? Because what meets the eyes often are the badness of a person. By noticing their weakest points, we gain the feeling of being stronger and more powerful. We thought we would look better. It's sad how we should secure ourselves with such a way. Isn't it better if we meet all the great people in the world and learn from them? Even, we can learn from every person, not just the great ones.

I met Tony in Milan, Italy, two years ago. The encounter left a deep impression on me. At that time, I was in the middle of a shopping spree program designed by my tour guide. Of course, my family and I couldn't afford the stuffs. All the shops lining neatly were branded shops such as Gucci, Louis Vuitton, etc,. Therefore, we decided to switch to all nation's hang-out place, McDonalds. That was where I met him. When we walked into the restaurant, the place was very crowded. After sifting through the tables, we (my mother, my sister and I) found an empty table with a cup of coffee half full on it. I thought someone had left the table and whoever that person must've decided to leave the coffee, so we sat down. Not long after, there was a Western guy came over and told us that the coffee was his. He then took the cup and was about to leave when I suddenly felt uneasy. I knew there was nowhere else to sit. I then told him that he should take my seat but he refused my offer. I insisted before he reluctantly accepted my offer. We sat down without talking to each other for few minutes. Then I felt a sudden urge to smile at him. It was the simples gesture on earth but at that time, it was not easy to do that. I didn't grow up in a friendly neighborhood/society where everyone smiles at strangers easily. But I did it anyway, and boy, aren't I glad I did it. He returned my smile with a much more friendly smile and we got to talking. My mother, being a sensitive and negative person she is, seemed not to like the idea of me getting in a conversation with a stranger. I knew she was eager to interrupt me but she was rather helpless since she couldn't speak any English. She only eyed me stiffly from where she sat but I couldn't care less about her. Tony had this soothing calm voice that reflected a glimpse of playfulness and he immediately had my undivided attention. We were sitting rather closely and since I wasn't really confident on my listening skill, I leaned towards him to hear his every words and I think this was another reason why my mother would love to drag me out of the store.

I was grateful having met Tony that day, I still am and I will always be, because he told me how I had brightened up his day. He told me that he was from New York and he visited Italy to live with his brother for few months. There would be someone who would come from New York to join him. He said he'd been hanging around the city for three weeks and always ending up at McDonalds. He would sit alone, watching people come and go while sipping his hot coffee. When I asked him what he did for a living, he took out an old picture of his. He was a wedding dress designer and the picture showed a very good-looking, well-cut, friendly, and lively young man dressed in suit. We had a great casual talk, until I asked him why he spent his times rather meaninglessly in Italy. I wondered why he didn't visit somewhere more exciting or do something more challenging. It was when I asked the question that he unbuttoned his shirt and showed me a lump on his chest. He told me, he only had 3 more months to live. And the last thing he wanted would be wasting time traveling from one point to another. The time spent on the journey themselves was too precious. It didn't matter where he was, or who he spent time with. It was rather a confusing concept for me to digest so I probed deeper. I asked him how could he feel satisfied spending 3 weeks sitting alone with bad coffee at McDonalds? He then told me that he was never alone. He saw a lot of people. Tourists walked by, all happy and glowing. People were laughing and enjoying the times of their lives. They looked so blissfully happy, he could share their happiness and felt happy too. I was rather speechless. It was before I was about to tell him how I didn't believe him when I saw his old wrinkled face and I realized, he wasn't telling a lie. Tony said, "I don't need people feeling sorry for me because I'm about to die. I'm happy when someone came over and said hi." I only smiled to his words. He continued, "If I make someone's life easier only by offering him or her a seat, it's really enough. The little things matter."

I almost cried. And I am the last person on Earth who would or could cry in public. Not only I was touched by his words but the way he said it was so... simple. And peaceful. He was beaming and I couldn't cry. I couldn't offend him in such a way. I listened to him, relenting to speak more than necessary and letting him touch my soul. During those 20 minutes, he told me so many things. And at last, we finished the conversation and he stood up. He offered to buy me some ice cream. I told him it was supposed to be on me but he only laughed at me. He then had this playful spark in his eyes when he told me that I would make the perfect daughter one can ask for. He regretted the fact I couldn't be his daughter and he offered me to go back to NY with him and marry his youngest son, Richard. He went on promoting his son, telling me how he was a handsome (not as handsome as he was when he was young, though, he said) and successful 29-year-old lawyer. I didn't know what to say. I asked him why he could even think of joking about something like that. He replied, "I've prepared some stuffs for Richard's brothers and sisters, but he's the only one whom I haven't prepared anything for. So, why not a nice girl from him? You are beautiful, very nice, and you would make the perfect gift."

I didn't accept compliments daily. But I've received compliments for sure. As a human, there were some people who hated me and some who loved me. But never ever, in my 19 years of life, I felt so beautiful and appreciated. I felt like I've done something very good. I was... what I felt was pure joy and gratitude. What I did was only... talk. I really felt like I was the most beautiful woman at that time and I did cry. I hugged him and told him, "I'd really love to do that. I'd love to go New York and marry your son. Thank you. But now, I gotta go because my tour guide is calling me over there." Tony kissed both of my cheeks and smiled, "Thanks for accepting the offer. Have a safe trip and enjoy your holiday."

Enjoy your holiday. These three cliche words have always been meaningless to me, I always took them for granted. I never thought how a cup of coffee could brighten both of our days so much. I came to a realization that you would never, never know when you'd meet someone really special. Someone so special, he or she would leave such a deep impression in your heart. I would never find out that Tony was in need of a friend to talk to or that he would die in few months' time, had I decided not to offer him my seat. I couldn't imagine what I would've missed had I been as grumpy, negative and suspicious as my mother. I probably would only sit beside Tony with a stinky face and did nothing. I learned a lesson that day. A little smile can start something worthwhile. So, be nice to everybody. Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one leaves you without being happier. And it could be anyone. Not only someone you meet on vacation but probably someone you sitting next to you on the bus to work this morning

If today I haven't said my prayer, I will do it now. I'm thanking for the opportunity to having met Tony. We came from different worlds, different parts of the Earth, different races and different generations. Different backgrounds and different paths of life. But still, we met. Today is almost exactly two years after my encounter with Tony. I met him 19 July 2007 on the afternoon. It's 17 July 2009 today. I hope he's happy wherever he is right now. And I hope Richard had received his gift from his father.

(dedicated to Tony Morgan)

15 Big, Fat Lies We Tell Ourselves.

2009-07-15T23:05:00.001+07:00

1. Everything would be great if I lost weight/quit my job/got a man, etc.
No, everything would be just like it is now, except you'd weigh less, be unemployed or have someone to watch Lost with—and there's a chance you'd be complaining about something new. Happiness and satisfaction come from within, and you're capable of appreciating the good things that are in your life right now.

2. Hard work speaks for itself.
I don't need to ask for recognition. This is the little lie that spares you the potential awkwardness of having to toot your own horn (which, admittedly, can be uncomfortable!). But the fact is, unless you do the tooting, all you're likely to hear is silence.

3. He really loves me; he's just afraid to commit.
Why would you choose someone who won't choose you? If he's really afraid of love, then maybe you should be afraid of him.

4. They'll never know I lied.
Even if you don't get caught and life goes on, it's not quite the same. Funny how lying makes you think everyone else is too.

5. He cheated on her, but he wouldn't ever cheat on me.
And you believe him because he, the guy who lied to his last girlfriend about being faithful, promised you he'd…be faithful?

6. I just couldn't say no.
Actually, you could have, but it's hard to say no when you know that's not what the other person wants to hear. Figuring out your real reasons for not wanting to say it—maybe you're scared of disapproval or anger, for instance—could help you work up the courage to utter the dreaded (yet so liberating) little syllable

7. Some people have all the luck (and I'm not one of them).
This one's a lie that undermines your power to control your destiny—and to claim the credit when good things do come your way. Because the more you believe in luck, the less you believe in yourself.

8. I can quit anytime. The cigarettes. The toxic boyfriend. The nonstop shopping.
Telling yourself that you have a bad habit but that you could always drop it is crafty. By admitting that what you're hooked on isn't good for you, you think you're on top of things. If you're really on top of things, prove it: Quit.

9. If I looked like Sienna Miller, everything would be easy.
Do you really think a breezy, rejection-free life is there waiting for someone just because she's gorgeous? Rich? Tall? Hello! Jude boinked the nanny!

10. I'll buy it—but only after I lose some weight.
Maybe you will lose the weight this time. But if you're always living as if perfection is just around the corner, you're denying reality—and missing out on being happy in thenow.

11. Nobody appreciates my genius.
Maybe you are an undiscovered Van Gogh. But if you're so talented, you should be able to find a way to share that brilliance with the world.

12. A little tan won't hurt.
What part of "wrinkles" and "cancer" don't you believe? Thinking you're immune from life's tough stuff is a sign that you don't value life's great stuff.

13. Sure, I'd love to go.
If you really would like to go, terrific. Saying yes to life is wonderful, if you mean it. Saying yes reflexively to any and every invitation—your cousin's boss's baby shower, for example—could mean you're giving up your life to enhance everyone else's.

14. I don't need any help.
Denying that you need emotional support, someone to make you laugh or just a ride to the airport may feel like independence, but it's often a lie that protects you from revealing vulnerability. And nothing makes friends faster than vulnerability.

15. If I had time I'd…write a book/exercise more/go back to school, etc.
You're busy, I'm busy, everybody's busy. Is lack of time a handy excuse for not doing the things you really want to do but are deep-down scared of failing at? Or maybe you can't admit you really don't want to do something anymore because you think letting go of an old goal is the same thing as failing. Just do it—or just don't!

Testament to Life.

2009-07-13T12:56:00.003+07:00

We like to think we're fearless, eager to explore unknown lands and soak up new experiences, but the fact is, we're always terrified. Maybe the terror is part of the attraction. Some people go to horror movies. Dive into dark water. And at the end of the day, isn't that what you'd rather to hear about? If you've got one drink and one friend and 45 minutes. Slow rides make for boring stories. A little calamity. Now that's worth talking about.

I like to think I'm fearless, eager to explore unknown lands and soak up new experiences. I want those things because I don't want to be old someday and look back only to find I haven't done anything bold enough to spice up my boring life. I go to horror movies. I go to military training and jump off from a helicopter. The thrill. The new experience. The point where your wish to withdraw from your bold decision is mixed with the curiosity of finding out the unknown is blissfully addictive. It's the point where you have to make decisions whether to go back or go forward. Whether to be a loser who sits around and watch or a winner who has a chance to look back and smile. I choose to be a winner. I choose to earn my opportunity to look back and smile. I may hurt myself while doing so but I believe the ride is worthwhile. I fall in love. I teach. I touch. I write. I leave trails wherever I go, in hope someone would find it, follow it, and lead the equally exciting life I'm trying to make. I leave trails wherever I go, in hope I would be able to someday look back, see the people who are walking down my trails and smile because I've left my own legacy. My own testament to life.

Taking Notes and Taking Out The Trash

2009-07-10T02:27:00.012+07:00

by Bonnie Peterson.

I teach communications and public speaking in the university system of Wisconsin. I am also blind. Taking notes is of course something that is extremely valuable to me. From my experience I believe that note taking is probably one of the most important skills that your children will learn. So what is note taking and how is it valuable?

First of all, note taking is not tape-recorded documentation of information. Note taking is where you, the notetaker, pick and choose the information you wish to retain. For true note taking this must be done in a medium that is flexible and quickly accessible. You also have to be able to take notes under a wide variety of circumstances - while you're standing or sitting; inside or outside; and so forth.

There is no question that the skill and art of note taking leads to active listening. In other words, the better you take notes, the better you listen. You need to listen in order to pick and choose which things you wish to take down. That is, you must be constantly making decisions as you write down notes. When children start to study for tests and exams from notes, they begin to realize the importance of making good decisions - especially if their notes were incomplete and the information they need isn't there. Note taking leads to better decision making skills, and this in turn promotes leadership qualities.

One of the key skills of successful leaders is juggling five or six or more different things at the same time. Successful people are busy people. Once people discover you are a competent, skillful leader everybody wants you. Note taking allows people to function more efficiently and effectively and therefore be more successful.

I take notes on a myriad of topics, and I take them in Braille. I use Braille to write notes to myself about the grades and other important information about my students. I use Braille when I judge speaking competitions. There is no way anyone could remember, or would care to remember, all the intricacies of each speech and each speaker, so I use my Braille for that. I use Braille for political issues, especially public hearings. I also use Braille in my home life. I use it for writing down appointments, grocery lists, and for keeping track of my two daughters' schedules. But it wasn't always that way. I didn't always take notes in Braille.

When I went to school my parents were told that I didn't need Braille; after all I could see. We didn't know about the National Federation of the Blind then. My parents trusted the professionals, so I did not learn Braille as a child. Instead I learned to take notes in a dive-bomb fashion. Now, when you take notes this way - and you can; it is doable - your back and shoulders are hunched up and your nose is literally on the paper as you drag your face across the page. But I didn't need Braille. I could see. And a funny thing happens if you have long hair: it all plops down on the desk, onto your paper, and into your face so you're eating hair while you're trying to take notes. Nobody thinks about those things. You also eliminate what little light there is because your head is blocking it off, and there's a tremendous amount of eye strain. But that's how I took my notes. In between classes I would go into the ladies' room and wash the ink off the tip of my nose.

I went through certain stages in my childhood trying to deal with the fact that I really couldn't see (we didn't use the word blind when I was a child). My family was Polish, and we heard a lot of jokes about Polish people with big noses. So I thought that Polish people must have big noses, and I must have a bigger nose than other people. I remember thinking that if I didn't have this rotten Polish nose, I could get close enough to the paper to read without getting ink on the tip of my nose. Not many people know this, but I decided I could squish down my nose and make it smaller by sleeping face down in my pillow. I really did. But after a few weeks my desire for air and my fear of suffocation while I slept made me give up. I still have the nose with which I was born. So, I gave up my "ethnic nose" stage and I moved into another stage; the "martyr" stage.

By this time I was in eighth grade, early adolescence. For years I had heard people say things like, "Isn't she remarkable? That poor little thing struggles so hard. Look at how good she does with the little that she has." My reaction in this stage became: "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen. Nobody knows but me, and I will endure this for the greater good of society and someday I will be rewarded." However, my "Joan-of-Arc" stage didn't last very long, either. I was quite aware that, like Joan, I was getting burned. I didn't really want people to pity me, to pet me, and tell me how sweet and wonderful I was to endure this hardship. That wasn't what I was about.

So I moved into another stage. This was the "Buck up, Bonnie, and just make the best of this. This is the way the cards of life have been dealt out to you, so watcha' gonna' do?" stage. I stayed in that stage for a long time - a long, long time. When I went to college I was still dive-bombing my paper, of course. The college I went to was quite a ruthless college, by the way. They treated everyone equally. I was fortunate to get a very strong education there.

Communication was the career I chose. In communication classes we did a lot of group analysis. Groups of students were videotaped as they interacted, and professional evaluators critiqued and rated each student within the group according to communication principles and criteria. These evaluations were given to the class instructor, who would then review the evaluations with each student. It was my turn on this one particular evening. I will never forget it - it was nine o'clock in the evening on a Tuesday. My instructor was going through this process with me. On the list of things that I had done was a comment about withdrawing behavior. For those of you who don't know anything about communication jargon, withdrawing behavior is the worst thing that you can do in communication. It's sort of like turning your back on a person-ignoring them. It means that you have taken your consciousness, your essence away from the group. My instructor said, "Bonnie, leading behavior here, challenging behavior here. Those are all positive, but what is this? Withdrawing behavior? You never withdraw. What are you doing here?"

When I told her I didn't know, this upset her more than the behavior itself-that I could do something and not be aware of it. So she read the description from the evaluation to me and asked me again just what I had been doing.

"Well, I was only taking notes."

"Notes aren't withdrawing behavior. Show me what you do when you take notes."

So I dive-bombed the paper and pretended to take notes. So she asked me, "Bonnie, what is the definition of withdrawing behavior?" I regurgitated the definition of withdrawing behavior as any good student should do. She left it at that, but I didn't. I thought about it. She was right. To take my face, my body - the entire portion of my upper torso - away from the group and to be down there on top of that paper for even a millisecond was, of course, withdrawing behavior. This bothered me. I had always been praised and encouraged for taking notes this way. Now someone was telling me, for the first time in my life, how this behavior was interpreted in the real world. I wasn't bothered enough to change anything right away, but I certainly put it on the back burner to simmer.

I continued to dive-bomb my paper even after I stumbled into the National Federation of the Blind and saw wonderful positive blind people doing things that I couldn't do in a million years - like reading and writing (Braille, of course) comfortably and easily. They were people who weren't struggling with eyestrain, which had become such an ordinary fact in the course of my everyday life that I didn't even bother complaining about it. You would think that this would be enough to make me change, but it wasn't. It was the actions of my three-year-old daughter that did it.

I was reading her a book about Dumbo, the elephant. Of course, reading the book meant wrapping it around my face. I still remember how she just looked at me and said, "Daddy read me." What I heard in her words were, "You are stupid; you are embarrassing; I am going to get as far away from you as I can; you're dumb." Now she didn't mean to be cruel, but as far away as a three-year-old could get was across the room to her dad, and that was far enough for me.

I learned Braille with the help of the Federation in two months. By the way, let me tell you something else that you probably won't believe. If any of you would have come to me during the time I was still dive-bombing and offered me one million dollars if I could read back to you notes I had written a month ago, I couldn't have gotten the money from you. I was taking notes that I literally couldn't read. But I knew no other way. It was what the professionals told me I should do.

My parents didn't know a lot about note taking, but they did know about taking out the trash. They knew about providing me with strong values, about teaching me to be responsible, and what it was to do a job well. From the time I was a young child I was expected to do household tasks, make my bed and do it correctly, fold up my clothes, and put them away. By the time I was eight years old I was helping my mom on Saturdays to clean the house. My job was the bathroom, hall, and the steps-the total cleaning thereof. When I was thirteen my mom went to work. It was just going to be a part-time job, she said, just for a little extra spending money in the family. But my mom was so good that she moved up into management full-time. By the time I was fifteen I was grocery shopping, ironing, and taking care of the family. I did all of that and I did it well, for nothing less was acceptable to my parents.

Now, kids are kids - blind or sighted - and they want to get away with what they can, especially if they are creative, and I was. When I was about thirteen I developed a passion for long, hot showers. But soon my long, hot showers began causing the bathroom tiles in our bathroom to fall off the wall. I figured out that if, after a shower, I would just plunk those babies right back up on the wall, they would stay until the next person took a shower, and that person would get the blame, not me, for the falling tiles. Of course, my parents eventually pinned it down to me. Slowly they eliminated the possibilities, and the only possibility that was left was Bonnie. "Stop taking those hot showers," my father said. "Okay, Dad, sure." Of course I was too old for them to monitor my showers. I just opened up the window, fanned out all the hot air, plunked the tiles back up on the wall, and left. The next family member would come in, and plunk, plunk, plunk-down would come the tiles. It was clear that I wasn't going to stop taking long, hot showers; and the tiles were going to keep on plunking down.

Then one day my dad called, "Bonnie!" He was in the bathroom, so I came in and he said, "Here, this is for you." It was a can of tile cement and a trowel. He said, "You're taking these tiles off the walls with these showers. I can't stop you from taking the hot showers. If you're old enough to do it, you're old enough to fix it up, and I'll show you how." And to my dismay, he did.

I soon learned that this tile responsibility was in fact mine. If I put the tile up improperly, or if I didn't squish the tile cement on all the portions of the tile, then the tiles would fall off; and, unlike before, even if this occurred after someone else's shower, I had to go in and fix them. You can imagine the teasing I got from my younger brother and sister. This was too degrading, so you can bet I learned how to be an excellent mason. It taught me many things, this little experience with shower tiles, but I never gave up my love for long hot, showers. When my husband and I built a home we put in a fifty-gallon hot water tank instead of a little thirty-five gallon because I never wanted to run out of hot water. I also amazed the contractors with my knowledge about bathroom tiles, backing, drywall, and ceiling materials. I did not plan on ever putting up bathroom tiles again - especially in my own household.

What did this all mean? What did my parents teach me? They taught me that if you mess it up, you gotta' fix it up. What you do, you need to be responsible for. My parents didn't know the value of Braille, but they did know about other values. They were smart people, and they didn't fall for my adolescent trickery and deceit. My blindness was never an acceptable excuse for getting out of a job that had to be done. They taught me not to shirk responsibility, and they never made excuses for me. If homework had to be done, and it took other students an hour, and it took me two hours, then that's how long it took. I did the job. I did it thoroughly, and I did it well. If there was a test, and it was going to take an hour for other students to take the test, then I needed to figure out a way that I could do it in an hour, too. These lessons about responsibility have stayed with me throughout my life.

My parents thought of the future, of the woman who would be running her own household someday. They thought of the woman who would be married to a man and what a man would want-a responsible wife. They thought of a woman who would be a mother to children and the skills this would require. You need to think about these things for your children. The young children they are now are not the women and the men they will one day be. What will be required of them in the future? This is extremely important for parents to think about and plan for. My parents did, and I shall always be thankful for this.

Trash. There are many things that you can put in and take out with your trash, excuses for one. Pile up all of the excuses that you have about why your child can't do this or that regular chore, and put them in the trash. There are no excuses. People are not rewarded for what they cannot do, or for the least they can do. People get rewarded for what they can do, and the best rewards go to those who do the job the best. My "martyrdom" stage certainly taught me that. I wasn't getting rewarded. I was being pitied, pushed back, and ignored. That's not good. That's not healthy.

Along with the excuses that you throw into the trash, you need also to throw in low expectations about blindness. Replace these with high expectations. So, low expectations, into the trash. The next thing to throw in the trash is negative attitudes about blindness. These can be subtle. They creep up on you. They creep up from other people; people who will tell you, "Oh, don't discipline him-the poor child is blind!" or "You let her do that? But she's blind!" or "Your little boy does so well you wouldn't even know he's blind."

Put all these negative attitudes, low expectations, and excuses in a nice hefty bag, tie it up real tight, take it out with your trash, and bury it in the deepest landfill you can find.

But even when you do this, you will sometimes find yourself in doubt. "Maybe I am pushing my child too hard." "Can she really do this?" "Maybe I am trying to overcompensate." There are more negative attitudes and low expectations about blindness out there than there are positive attitudes and high expectations. But this isn't the way it has to be. There are better attitudes and higher expectations about the blind now than there were in my own childhood.

You are going to have doubts, and yes, you're going to make mistakes. You will not be a perfect parent. No parent is. Parenting is hard work. It's hard work whether you have a blind kid or a sighted kid. But don't let yourself, as a parent, get into that martyrdom stage that I went through as a blind child. You know, the "My goodness, am I not a wonderful parent because of the things that I endure. Someday I will be rewarded." You will not be rewarded any more than I'm going to be rewarded with my kids. Our kids will grow up, go away, and we'll be lucky if we see them at Christmas.

Our job is to train our children to be the best possible people they can be, to pass on to them values of honesty and responsibility. Blindness does not need to change any of our expectations for our children. Whether it is taking notes or taking out the trash, the blind can do it, too.

Paradox of Our Time.

2009-07-08T15:24:00.003+07:00

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to
quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete...

Remember, spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, 'I love you' to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

The law of nature is not to kill or to be killed. It is to touch a person's life and to have yours touched in return.

- George Calin

This goes for you, friend.

2009-07-06T20:40:00.004+07:00

This goes for my dear friend, Murni Nelly.

Meltdowns start when you just go through your life and you're all smiles and don't face those problems. People need to find what it is that makes them feel good about themselves. Face your problems, but don't get attached to them anymore. They're in the past. Find what can make you feel good and do it. For me, it's English, and perhaps writing. They make me feel good. I am just turning my passion into something positive. It was just a matter of thinking, 'I don't to waste any time, I have so many things I have yet to accomplish'. There are SO MANY GOOD THINGS waiting out there for us to accomplish. Why waste time with low self-esteem? We are enough. We are more, in fact. We survived. :)

And one more thing, don't surround yourself by 'yes' people. There's some sort of lack of self-esteem for someone to gravitate towards that kind of energy. It's important to have people who tell you their honest opinion. I have my people. You should find your people. Or at least, your person. Your person... doesn't necessarily have to be your closest friend. Your person... as I once said, is the person you tell things to, not because you want to get his/her approval. It's just that... telling him/her makes things real. If you murdered someone, he/she will be the person you'd call to help you drag the corpse across the living room floor. Find your people, friend, and you will be okay. :)

Truth that whole world must know!

2009-07-04T03:31:00.002+07:00

That’s right, if you can drive well in Jakarta, you can drive anywhere else in the world. But the converse is NOT always true.

Picture a typical situation on a bright sunny day in Jakarta with you on the steering wheel of a manual-geared Toyota Kijang. You are on your way from Sudirman to a meeting point at Kebayoran, which is starting in 30 minutes. The traffic jam is at its worst because it’s the peak hour of lunchtime + the end of school hours + rush hour for meetings.

You know the fast lane is not always the best choice as the traffic in the slow lane usually slackens off after a major divergence. Thus aptly, you switch lanes from the slow to the fast lane and vice versa, with high skills and remarkable precision.

Your intuition knows exactly when to speed up and slow down. You overtake the cars ahead that you deem hindering your movement, without any alarm of endangering all other road users. Horn and front lights are appropriately used every time you see vehicles ahead are closing by or switching to your lane.

Just before the notorious roundabout, the slow lane, the fast lane, and the busway (yes don’t forget the big brother) converges, making the most chaotic and disorganized traffic mankind has ever defined. Your room is increasingly narrowing as all vehicles try to get their way past the roundabout, creating more lines of vehicles than the road should accommodate. The Kopaja (public bus) next to your car is only at finger-length distance.

But you are not scared at all. Wonderfully, you manage to get your car to the fastest-moving line at the utmost right hand side while you are actually at the utmost left hand side line. Brilliant...

After passing the roundabout you go straight down towards Blok M. Your enemies this time are Metromini and Angkot (public mini-buses). For the sake of getting passengers, these vehicles believe that they have the rights to stop wherever and whenever they like.

You have ever wanted to snarl at them, but you know it is all in vain, because they think they are the rightful owner of roads in Jakarta. Period. Moreover, its big brother, Metromini, is reputable for making the most unexpected turns and maneuvers as they join your line.

Other than that, there is also the smallest brother, Bajai, which is insidiously mysterious. It could go right or left, anytime it wants without giving any signal. Only God knows when and where it is making those turns. We, human beings, can only pray it doesn’t happen right in front of you when you are caught unaware.

But you are a skillful driver. You breeze through them without losing any cool or temper or concentration.

Don’t forget the motorcycles. They are always in a massive horde. And they like to speed up, randomly. If they slam into your car, you are to blame. So you know you don’t want to waste your time with them. At any one random time, you could be in a situation where your car is surrounded by 4 motorcycles, on all 4 sides of your car; The one in the front doesn’t have a mirror. The one on your left has 3 persons on the seat. The one on your right has a fragile small boy clinging to his dad with feeble grip on his dad’s tummy. The one behind doesn’t have front lights. ALL of them do not wear helmets. Wrong decision and you are pretty much fucked, regardless who is blameworthy. But you are a virtuoso. You get yourself out of that situation with lovely maneuvers, without harming any of those 4 bikes.

When you think you are out of the shit hole, somebody jaywalks across the road. Unconcerned and unaware of your speeding car. In a split of a second, you make an accurate decision between accelerating and slowing down. You take a deep breath. The road is tapering. Without any intention to decrease your speed, you ride past that road with adorable certainty and confidence.

All of a sudden, from the front side of a parked bus at the side of the road, a ‘gerobak’ (cartwheel) emerges as it jolly moves across the street. Looking at the mirror, applying brake, but keeping eyes focused on the traveling cartwheel are all done in a simultaneous order, ensuring a smooth flow of the car.

Finally you have arrived at your destination. But it doesn’t give you a relief yet. You are just about to be tested on your ultimate driving proficiency. You have to park your car, on a parallel parking on an inclining slope, in between 2 luxurious cars owned by an ex-Indonesian army chief. Drains (or in Indonesia we call it 'selokan/ got') are on both sides of the narrow slopes.

Don’t forget, you drive a manual-geared vehicle. But again, and again, you succeed, because you drive really well in Jakarta, and you know no other drivers in the world can match your driving skills.

Garuda di Dadaku.

2009-07-01T15:30:00.003+07:00

The music that came out of the cinema had faded away, the screen had darkened, but the theme song from the movie Garuda di Dadaku was still being hummed by the audience.

The song goes: Garuda di Dadaku, garuda kebanggaanku, ku yakin hari ini pasti menang.

The lyrics mean: Garuda (a large mythical bird that is the national emblem of Indonesia) is on my chest, Garuda my pride, I'm sure today (it) will certainly win.

The humming came from many children after they had watched the screening of the latest Indonesian movie at Pondok Indah Mall in South Jakarta.

"I like the song. The movie is good, too. This is my first time watching a movie at the cinema. The screen is really, really big," said Hapsiah "Hani" Ramadani Putri.

The 6-year-old girl came to the cinema with more than 30 children from the Cipete orphanage, also in South Jakarta.

"I like the scene when Bayu (the main character in the movie) flossed his soccer skills, because I like playing soccer too," she said.

Similar comments came from Isa Nori Wunche, 12.

"My favorite scene is when the Indonesian under-13 national team was ready to face a foreign team," said Isa, adding the movie had inspired him to be a great soccer player.

He said he wanted to be like Cristiano Ronaldo (the former Manchester United player from Portugal) and Emmanuel Adebayor (Arsenal player from Togo).

"I want to play in the Indonesian national team someday, just like Bambang Pamungkas (Indonesian striker)," said the boy who had joined the Soccer School Indonesia (SSI) Arsenal.

Hani and Isa were just two of the more than 300 children who had the chance to watch the screening even before the movie officially opened at cinemas on June 18.

Dozens of children from orphanages in East Jakarta and SSI Arsenal were excited to watch the 90-minute movie. They burst into laughter at some scenes, especially when Bang Dullah(played by Ramzi) appeared with his amusing dialogues.

But it was Emir Mahira, 12, playing Bayu in the film, who caught the audience's attention.

The audience, kids and adults alike, lined up to get his autograph and pose for photos with him after the screening.

It had never crossed Emir's mind that he would be a movie star. It was his love of soccer that brought him to the new world.

Since he was about 10, Emir pleaded with his father to let him play soccer and join a soccer club. But unlike the character he played in the movie, Bayu, who was forbidden by his grandfather to get into the sport, Emir received full support from his father, who later put him into SSI Arsenal.

Emir's soccer skills amazed the movie's casting directors. In the movie, he should even take a quite difficult move, shooting the ball through a bus window.

"It wasn't easy. It took me five takes to do that. But it's fun," said the fan of the Spanish giants Barcelona, smiling.

He also dreams of playing for the Indonesian national team.

"Just like Bayu, I want to have Garuda on my chest," said Emir, who plays as a midfielder.

Ponaryo Astaman, a national player, said the movie reminded him of his childhood when he struggled hard to become a professional player.

"It really took great effort to become what I am right now. I believe that there are many other Bayus out there who have the same dreams as he does," he said.

"The most important thing is not to be afraid to dream. With hard work, guts and high spirits, you can make the dream come true."

But one question still in people's minds is if the country will ever earn international soccer acclaim, having never qualified for big competitions like the World Cup or the Olympics.

The team crashed out of the first round of the Asian Cup, while in the ASEAN Football Championships, its best achievement was as runner-up in 2000, 2002 and 2004.

Bang Dullah
(my most favorite character)

Trauma.

2009-07-01T00:57:00.001+07:00

Doesn't matter how tough we are, trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home, it changes our lives, trauma messes everybody up, but maybe that's the point. All the pain and the fear and the crap. Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward. It's what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can step up.

The Lost Children

2009-06-29T21:51:00.004+07:00

I don't think I really respect Michael Jackson, but I never fancy the idea of anyone's death, either.
Arrivederci, MJ.

We pray for our fathers, pray for our mothers.
Wishing our families well.
We sing songs for the wishing, of those who are kissing.
But not for the missing.

So this one’s for all the lost children.
This one’s for all the lost children.
This one’s for all the lost children, wishing them well.
And wishing them home.

When you sit there addressing, counting your blessings.
Biding your time.
When you lay me down sleeping and my heart is weeping.
Because I’m keeping a place.

For all the lost children.
This is for all the lost children.
This one’s for all the lost children, wishing them well.
And wishing them home.

Home with their fathers,
Snug close and warm, loving their mothers.
I see the door simply wide open.
But no one can find thee.

So pray for all the lost children.
Let’s pray for all the lost children.
Just think of all the lost children, wishing them well.
This is for all the lost children.
This one’s for all the lost children.
Just think of all the lost children.
Wishing them well, and wishing them home.

You matter.

2009-06-27T21:52:00.005+07:00

When you love the work you do and the people you do it with, you matter.
When you are so gracious and generous,
and aware that you think of other people before yourself, you matter.
When you leave the world a better place than you found it, you matter.
When you continue to raise the bar on what you do and how you do it, you matter.
When you teach and forgive and teach more before you rush to judge and demean, you matter.
When you touch the people in your life through your actions (and your words), you matter.
When the legacy you leave behind lasts for hours, days or a lifetime, you matter.
When you see the world as it is, but insist on making it more like it could be, you matter.
When you inspire a Nobel prize winner or a slum dweller, you matter.
When the room brightens when you walk in, you matter.

And when kids grow up wanting to be you, you matter.

Ah, life.

2009-06-25T13:53:00.005+07:00

"I hate the fact that you keep telling me how you love her. And how she is so similar to me. I wish it was me. We've only been together for few weeks and yet, I can't imagine my life without you in it. I can live without you. I just don't want to. It's so selfish of me to wish that you'd break up with her one day and turn to me instead. As painful as it is, I realize that even if you do, you probably won't choose me. I would remind you of her too much. Knowing I would never have the chance to be with you hurts me much more than losing the chance itself."

Afraid of... me?

2009-06-21T17:27:00.004+07:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

[Marianne Williamson]

Two local foreigners invading the city!

2009-06-20T13:59:00.005+07:00

After two unbelievably busy and dreadful weeks of assignments and presentations, finally my friend and I had some stress relief. This is actually a plan we had decided to do weeks before, but the deadlines weren't permitting us for such daring momentary leave. So here we are, doing it exactly after the last day of our hellish week. It was fun, hilariously conducted, freely planned and simply unforgettable.

Here's the concept:

My friend, Amanda, and I would stroll down the streets of Jakarta in disguise of foreign tourists. Our gears were simple: sunglasses, cameras, backpacks, shorts, and trainers. Oh, don't we love the sunglasses! We would fool the inhabitants of the city by acting lost around the streets and being able to speak nothing else except English. Now, my friend, has the most Indonesian look an Indonesian can have. So we made up the fact that she was a Thai, and me, looking Chinese than ever, decided to make up a fake identity of a Korean. Our fake names were B for me (as in Bernadette, my name) and Andy for Amanda.

Off we went!

We agreed to meet up at 8 o'clock in the area of Museum Fatahillah. I arrived before Andy, and I patiently browsed around the Museum's area while waiting for her. It felt nice to walk around with gentle breeze paddling my face because the weather was friendly and the area was secluded from the main street. Around half an hour later, Andy showed up. We started taking pictures and our first picture was of Andy stupidly sticking her face inside the mouth of an old cannon replica.

We played around and took pictures for some brief 10 minutes before we explored the reserved streets of Kota Tua (Old City). The buildings were so old, they stood contrarily different from other modern buildings besides them. We visited an old bridge at which photographers usually take their pre-wedding clients to. We also found an old building, very badly ruined, standing next to a modern well-built Batavia Hotel. It was such an heart-breaking irony to see two buildings of different generations standing hand-in-hand, next to one another but in such different conditions. I really wonder whether extra efforts have been made by governments to reserve the area because not only Old City holds invaluable historic value, the buildings there were actually very beautiful. We go to Europe to see the old buildings and street lamps but in fact, we have our own neglected buildings here in Jakarta. Some were okay, but most of them were in such poor conditions we just had to take pictures of them. We walked around for an hour and half, and took LOTS of pictures which will be posted in an entire separate album somewhere near the future.

Our next destination are the museums in Old City. We first went into Museum Wayang, in which we were not allowed to bring any cameras. I wonder now why we weren't allowed to do so. And apparently, when I got home, I found some pictures I took in the museum! I forgot, was it because I subconsciously didn't give up my camera? :P Well, inside the museum, we saw the history, and the story of one of Indonesian's most famous culture: the Wayang (shadow play). There are two types of Wayang: Wayang Kulit (leather puppet) and Wayang Golek (wooden puppet). It has now developed its third type: Wayang Orang (human puppet). Basically we saw lots of Javanese puppets and some foreign puppets from various countries like France, Russia, China, Poland, India, and England. It was an educational visitation if only we weren't so freaked out inside. The museum was damp and smelled funnily. We were in the first half of the building and felt there was something weird about the dampness and the darkness of its lighting. Then we stepped out to a backyard in which some of VOC's generals were buried. We saw tombstones, but we were very much happier there due to the open area and freshness of the air.

And then we moved on to the second half of the building which was far more creepy than the previous part. This was the part where almost all wooden puppets and human puppets were kept. Now, there is something about human dolls that I don't like. If you make a human doll and you fail in making it resemble the real human's face, basically the doll will look weirdly painted and somehow creepy. But if you succeed in making a human doll that represents a human face perfectly, it'll result in a very creepy and lively doll face. Which to me, is more creepy than weirdly painted doll faces. In this area of building, all the puppets were masterly painted and their eyes looked very much alive. There were these two crowds of puppets organized neatly as if they were posing for a group picture. I couldn't look at the puppets straightly in the eyes. They were staring, some were grinning widely and some had angry faces on them. Whichever it was, the eyes were very much alive I felt like the room wasn't empty. The whole trip, there was only two visitors, me and Andy. And yet we felt like we were being stared at the whole time and the room was full of unseen creatures. We finished the tour as quickly as we could and got out happily.

Then we went to Museum Bank Mandiri. It was a museum for the old bank and inside we saw lots of (very) conventional machineries. We saw the BIG old typewriter and we saw machines they once used to print the book. We also got to see their general ledger in one BIG book like the Book of Shadows used in Charmed TV series. The building was more like a beautiful old abbey (or at least, a Catholic church) with a small yard in the middle of the building. You can't hear the streets' noise when you're inside so it felt peaceful and quiet. We decided that our main interests in this tour wasn't the machineries so we headed for the way out. In our way out, we saw some guys sitting at some desks doing some things we didn't know about. But what was weird was the fact that these guys weren't moving and they were sitting so stiffly in their seats. Intrigued, we came over and voila! They weren't human after all. :) They were statues, or whatever you call them. Perhaps they're sculpted out of wax, I don't know. We found two figures in a room, one was doing a chore and one was sitting alone at an empty table and we thought they looked like our lecturer and our friend's father.

On our next destination, we would be visiting National Museum and seriously, there was where the fun began!

[Coming up: National Museum tour and how we were successfully mistaken as foreigners by local schoolboys and some French guys]

Hurt people hurt people.

2009-06-17T20:31:00.004+07:00

A lot of people claim they know a lot about being hurt. At different points in life, everyone was hurt. Badly. Lightly. Accidentally. Intentionally. Whichever it is, it doesn't lessen the fact that you indeed, are hurt. Now, as I can't speak for everybody else, I'm going to talk about my hurt.

I didn't have a happy childhood. That's too bad, because you can't have your childhood twice. You can keep the girl/boy in you alive but you can't be a kid twice. There was only one time in your life when you could think of nothing except play. There was only one time in your life when the hardest decision you had to make was to choose which crayon to use. There was only one time in your life when your father could lift you up, let you sit on his shoulder and carry you around so effortlessly. So, if your childhood sucked, you're pretty much fucked up.

Talking about unhappy childhood, there are hundreds of reasons. In fact, all teenagers would claim their lives suck. I agree. Teenage years are pains in the ass. You are confused, you hate your parents, you love your friends more than anybody. That is if you had any friends. And when you don't, you blame on your weight (for girls) or your nerd side (on boys). Now I'm not saying that I'm an expert in this, but I've been there. An angry teenager. A very sad and depressed one.

But my hurt was not only about my vengeful teenage years. It was not only about hating myself because I was fat or stupid. My hurt comes from my strong belief of my worth. I used to believe, that I wasn't worth anything. I used to believe that I was so lowly created that no one would even miss me had I vanished from the face of the Earth. I was so depressed and hurt, I almost believed I was invincible. But what made the difference was when I realized that I wasn't.

My hurt came from my parents' abuse. Now, you might say at this point, 'Oh so this is what it's all about. The same old abuse story again.' Let me tell you what. It's never going to be an old story. It's so commonly heard, you thought it's no big deal. It's always a big deal, it's always going to be something I would talk about and fight against. It's part of me, the only part I wished I could change and I wished I'd never change. It's the part that crushed me but it's also the part that strengthens me. Am I thankful for that? Not really. A part of me still longs for the happy childhood I didn't get to experience. A part of me longs for the happiness of a young girl who could care less about the world. But another part of me knows it so well that I wouldn't be the young woman I am today had I been that happy girl.

My mother used to make me choose what I prefer to have her hit me with. I usually went for the belt. At other times, she wouldn't even let me choose but she'd let me have some taste in each and every tools she had. She sometimes locked me in the bathroom, without towel or anything, and I would sit in the corner of the bathroom, naked and freezing. Or at other times, she would wait until I got out of the bathroom then hit me on bare flesh. She sometimes would hit me so badly I had bruises all over my body. And she would literally chase me around if I ran away from her. I remember locking up my door terrified. Not terrified because she was out there with tools ready to hit me, but I was terrified at the fact she might be able to knock down the door and get me. I still have nightmares until now. Mostly they're about the feeling of being so helpless and scared. And after the nightmares, I would slightly return to that little terrified girl who was so helpless and... sad.

Again, perhaps what I had wasn't as bad as some others had to experience. Some might undergo much more terrible abuse. It doesn't make mine less abusive, or less damaging, though. It's all the same. Once a fist was raised to your little face, you're in the circle.

Now, I am an accomplished young woman. There were times I was crushed so badly I thought I would just die. But I didn't die. There were times I thought my days were extremely horrible I didn't even want to go through another one. But I did go through another day. There were times I hated my parents so much I thought I'd never forgive myself until the day I die. But I did forgive them. I've conquered most of my painful past, even though the nightmares are still haunting me. I am damaged, but I survived. I was severely beaten but I healed. I lost a lot of pieces of me but I glued what I could find. I am pretty much okay, maybe much more okay than some other 21-year-olds who had a happy childhood. So why worried about abused children? We don't need to help them. They'll survive.

No. They will not. Even if they will, it's one case out of a million. And for the rest 999,999 cases, they would be trapped in the endless circle of hurting. They were hurt so much, they thought the only way to relieve some of the pain is by hurting other people. They knew that's the only way to do so. They hurt people, so their pain becomes less hurting. Hurt people hurt people. And it'll go as a cycle. Your parents hurt you, you hurt your kids and your kids would hurt your grandchildren and so on. And the world is really going to be fucked up.

I watched Bill Cosby's speech today. He said, 'If you hit your children, you'll end up really abusing them. You would never be able to restore the wound or undo the pain." Think twice before you raise your fists to your children's face. Look at them in their eyes, does anything they do really deserve a punch at their little faces? The answer is NO. It's always no. And if the answer's yes, then you should pack your things and leave the house. You shouldn't be a parent at all.

Children should not be terrified of their own parents. Parents are supposed to be the most comforting place to go to. We should feel the safest when we lie our heads upon their chests. We should be able to expect a hug whenever we got hurt or fell down. We should not be terrified to expect a kiss whenever we succeeded in school. We should be able to go home and cry after a bad day in school without having to worry whether or not they would hit us for crying. It shouldn't hurt to be a child. You might already know all about this, but you have no idea how this feels if you hadn't experienced it yourself.

Abusing your children and hope they'll be strong enough to be an accomplished person later is never right. You have to raise your children right. You have to listen to what they've got to say. They are talking to you. They are trying to tell you something. And you have to listen to them because you are their parents. You could never, never be able to imagine how much pain they have to go through. You can lose the hatred, you can lose the bruises but the nightmares, they never go away. And trust me when I say it lasts a lifetime. It really is.

Pain and what it is all about.

2009-06-17T15:24:00.002+07:00

People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.

Serious matter not seriously taken.

2009-06-14T21:29:00.012+07:00

My cousin was kidnapped three days ago, along with his other friend.

This isn't the breaking news. Because he has returned, safe and sound. He was kidnapped, dragged into a car, beaten up and robbed. His cellphone and wallet were gone. Not heavy beating, though, so it was okay. It was quite a big deal, but not huge. When I heard the news, I was a bit surprised but it was not a crisis enough for me to spend my whole day worrying about. So I continued my day, knowing my cousin is now safe and it was probably a regular case of robbery and he was only mugged.

Today, my cousin came to my house. With my uncle and aunt, and some other relatives. I listened to the stories. My uncle told me how my cousin (and his friend) was cornered and dragged into a car. My cousin added how he was beaten (not very badly) and how his friend was very badly beaten. Then my uncle continued the story by expressing his suspicion of my cousin's friend's involvement in the kidnapping. Apparently, my uncle thinks that the other boy, the one who was kidnapped with my cousin, might be involved in the kidnapping plan. I was listening until I realized a big part of the story was missing.

Where the hell is the other boy right now?

I blurted out the question with uneasy feeling swirling in my stomach. The answer turned out to be the truth I don't want to hear. The other boy was nowhere to be found yet. He hasn't returned, and no one knows where he is right now. No one knows whether he's still alive, or not. Now, this is the breaking news. This has shaken me greatly, far greater than the news of my cousin being kidnapped.

So has anyone told the police yet?

Guess what. No, no one has. No one has told the police yet because my cousin has returned safely. I was perplexed. I couldn't think straight. I feel, almost disgustedly, sick. I mean, they were sitting in front of me, guiltless faces with happy smiles, telling how fortunate my cousin is compared to his friend. How in the world can someone do that? The other boy, the other boy, has not returned!

I tried to calm myself as best as I could when my uncle explained the reasons behind his decision of not calling the police. He said that he had a theory. A theory. He suspected that this other boy might be the part of the kidnapping plan and he was pulling the act in order to rob my cousin. So my cousin is the victim. And therefore, my uncle felt no obligation to worry about the boy. He tried to phone the boy and said there was someone picking up the phone, but no one spoke. He then said that it confirmed his theory, that the boy must be terrified of him finding out about his fake kidnapping act.

Did it ever occur to the narrow-minded selfish brain of my uncle that the reason why no one spoke at the phone was because it might be the kidnappers who picked up the call?

No, it apparently didn't. It never has. I spent the next 30 minutes explaining, frantically, about the importance of telling the police. I tried my best to point out that the theory has no solid base and we should not hold on to it. We could be doing the biggest mistake in our lives by not telling the police. We don't know if the boy has returned yet and we don't know how his condition is right now. The boy, his father has passed away and his mother isn't in Indonesia. She's in Taiwan, working for her son's education. I can only imagine how she would feel if she heard something has happened to her son, let alone if we must tell her a really bad news. Let's say, his death.

I can't imagine how someone could come up with a decision like my uncle did. I just don't get it. I wouldn't hesitate, not even one second, calling up the police the minute my son returned from the kidnapping to explain that the other boy hasn't returned yet. I wouldn't hesitate reporting up right away that the other boy might still be in danger and the police should look for him. I would call up his mother to inform the news and tell her that I had reported it to the police and she shouldn't worry and I'd keep her updated. The boy is only a boy and he's out there in danger. Helping him, acting as his parent because his mother isn't here, is what it's all about. It's about responsibility of an adult, to protect a teenager who might be in danger. Regardless whether the teenager is taking drugs or not. A matter of life-and-death should be treated as a priority, regardless what consequences it might yield. Especially if the so-called consequence is only about your fear of your son being too exhausted to be questioned.

It really isn't only a matter of life-and-death. It really is about helping other people. What should be done is very clear and it's out of question. It's out of discussion.

I'm right. And my uncle is so wrong.

You are not the one in the know. I am.

2009-06-10T22:20:00.008+07:00

You don't get to claim you know me until I claim that you do.

Yesterday I had a quick chat with my father while I was having my dinner. I haven't done this in a while, probably for almost a month or two. So we talked and somehow it carried on to a point where I discussed a possibility of me working part-time in an education institution. I teach English, at a local tutoring school, and I thought expanding my experience in Wall Street Institute might be a good idea. I like the excitement of trying something new and I want to know what I can get from Wall Street. I didn't really tell my dad about that. I only told him about the possibility of me getting a part-time job there since I've gotten to know the HR manager quite well and she apparently liked me enough to personally tell me to submit an application. How many times you get to have an HR manager telling you to submit your CV directly to her email? Not so often.

So when I told my dad, his reaction was reasonable. It wasn't something unexpected. He spoke to me wisely and ever so gently, 'Teaching is a hobby. It's good, enjoy it while it lasts.'

Problem is: It's NOT only a hobby. I enjoy it. Let's just say, even though I know I still have a lot of things to improve, I enjoy teaching and I never treat it as a hobby only. In fact, I've been considering whether to pursue a career in teaching. Now, I told this to my dad. With less bluntness but firm determination, I told him that teaching was never only a hobby to me. He eyed me cautiously, almost furiously, and said, "I know who you are. You don't want to teach. You want to earn big money."

Strike one.

I then said, "No, I never want to earn big money. Money has never been my sole intention in life. It's too shallow for me." And he made a quick and triumphant reply, "Yes, you do! My advice is for you to work in a multinational company. I've arranged some access for you to get into some good companies. You're my daughter. I know you so well. Money is your thing."

Strike two.

Money is NOT my thing. People is my thing. I interact with people and I find bliss in doing so. I learn from people and I never go tired from doing so. I make friends with people and I never regret doing so. I dream of doing great things that involve people, not money. Never money. I told my dad quietly, "Money is not my thing. If you think it is, you don't know me. You don't know me at all. I don't want to work in a multinational company." I didn't mean to sound ungrateful because my dad didn't do anything wrong. He was being a very responsible father, setting up a nice and comforting future for his daughter. He didn't do anything wrong. He just didn't do the right thing. Of course I didn't tell him that. So he said, once again, "Teaching is not a future! I want you to settle nicely in the future, buy a house and live if not a rich life, a financially secured one. Don't tell me that I do not know you. Even though we don't talk much, I monitor you. I know you. You are ambitious and you like money."

Strike three. And that's all I need to silence myself.

It got into a point where it surpassed any angry phase and arrived at a helpless state. He was unbelievable. Three times he claimed he knew me but in fact, he didn't at all. It was because of the lack of communication between us and plus, the neglect and psychological abuse ever since I was still little. Monitor, my ass. He didn't monitor me. He rarely spent time with the family, he was so overwrought in his work. Not that it was bad, I know he did for the family. But it's the trade-off. It results in less family time and more computer-and-office time. I gave him chance, to get to know me. I gave him chance to be close to me. But whenever I did, he chose gambling and work over me.

He thought he knew me just by looking at me but hey, I am never an open book in my family. They see what they want to see. They think I am who I am right now because of what they did to me. Because of their teachings and their successful attempts in raising me. It was true, in a way. I am who I am right now because of what they did to me. But not exactly like what they have in mind. I am who I am right now because they failed at their each and every so-called attempt of raising me. The only thing that they did was feed me and provide me with clothes. So he was right, it was because of them I am like this. And he was wrong, he didn't know me at all. Even I don't know me that well. How could he possibly be?

How do you convince a very orthodox parent (or parents) who thinks he knows everything about his first daughter while in fact, everything he thinks he knows about me is wrong. I never make money as my sole ambition. I am not even an ambitious person. I don't do ambitions. I don't run for myself. And he never gets that. So how can he claim he know me well? How do you tell him that what he believes is wrong, without crushing him?

What I had in my life once crushed me to pieces. The pieces were scattered and it takes a long time to find them and put them back together. I'm not sure I've found all the pieces. Sometimes I put the pieces I found in wrong places, then I had to go over and figure out where it actually belongs. Most of the times, I wonder where the remaining missing pieces are and try to look for them after identifying them. Even I don't know what and where to look. Even I haven't put myself back together. I am still incomplete so how can he be damn sure he knows me?

You don't get to claim you know me until I claim that you do.

I see things in grey.

2009-06-07T01:00:00.004+07:00

I know that you don't understand me. I don't understand me.

I am the kind of person who is happy for someone's happiness. I am the kind of person who hates when I see someone's happy. I want to serve the humanity. I want to teach children. I want to work for homeless people. I want to earn a lot of money. I want to show people what I'm good at. I am ambitious. I am caring. I am dark and mysterious. I like to talk about me. I don't like to talk about me. I want people say I'm good. I don't want them to know I'm good. I don't talk about what I feel. I want someone to listen to what I feel. I want to give up all I have for someone who needs me and only wants me. I don't want to give up my all for anyone. I hate my parents. I am afraid of making them unhappy. I am the most selfish girl in my family. I am the most selfless girl among my friends. I am ugly. I am beautiful. I don't want to listen to people's problems. I want to be the one they talk to. I want to help people. I know what I want. I am afraid of what I want. I want to be hopeful. I am afraid of being disappointed.

You are not killing me. I am killing me. I don't understand me.

Unbelievably Unbelievable

2009-06-05T21:45:00.002+07:00

“There may be some doubt as to who are the best people to have children, but there can be no doubt that parents are the worst.”

You think somehow along the way, you have made peace with them,
which was something you should do before you made peace with yourself,
which was something that remains the hardest to do.

You think somehow along the way, you have grown to understand one another,
which was something you once thought was impossible,
which was something you once wouldn't even think to try.

You think somehow along the way, you have succeeded to make them proud,
which was something you once used to long for,
which was something you once painstakingly wished for.

You think somehow along the way, you have been treated as a person,
which was something everyone would love to be treated as,
which was something better than to be treated as a schmuck,
or worse, to have been made you feel like one.

You think somehow along the way, you have forgotten the past pain,
which was something that haunts you all the way,
which was something that shadows every corner of your life.

You think somehow along the way, you have finally found your parents,
which was something you tend to keep for the rest of your life,
which was when you realized that you may be wrong all this time.

Maybe all this time along the way, you thought wrong.
Maybe all this time, you were just the same.
Maybe all this time, you haven't gotten anywhere.

A Field Guide to Scars

2009-06-02T23:33:00.003+07:00

A very heart-warming story I found.
---

My wife has a scar under her chin. It has been there since childhood, and is not the result of a single incident, but rather of multiple encounters with the driveway, the tree limb, the hockey stick, and any other hard object in the vicinity. When she has had quite enough guff, thank you very much, she leads with that chin, and the scar becomes visible. I believe this to constitute truth in advertising, a visual warning, similar to a tiger's growl, signifying that your continued existence is only on her sufferance.

I love this scar. It proclaims that she is not a girly-girl, and demands respect for doing foolish things in foolish ways and surviving, bloodied perhaps, but unbowed.

My wife has a scar on her belly. It has been there since the birth of our third son, who was so wrapped up in his umbilical cord that he was choking himself, an entirely characteristic manner of behavior we were to learn as he matured. After 2 "routine" vaginal deliveries of 9 pounders, though how the word "routine" could possibly be assigned to this task is beyond me, we were cocky, so sure that we had everything well in hand.

And then his heart rate started to drop. It came back up in a few seconds, but it went down again with each contraction, and starting coming back to baseline more and more slowly. Finally, it did not come back up. I stood watching a line on a graph revealing my child's mortal peril. The L&D staff hurried about their tasks with urgency and professional calm, preparing her for what was necessary. I need to be strong I told myself, she needs me to be calm and supportive. I looked in her eyes and started to stammer out those platitudes appropriate to the situation. I could see my fear reflected back to me, but she smiled, squeezed my hand and told me that this is what she deserved for marrying a man a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier. We laughed far harder than this weak jest merited.

I love this scar. It speaks to me of that special courage of women, and of the particular courage of one woman. It was narrow and pink at first, but gradually faded to a shade just a bit lighter than her natural skin tone. Originally, there was a zone of numbness around it, about an inch wide, but as time went on, that zone narrowed, and now, only the scar itself is still insensitive. Still, I kiss it anytime I am in the vicinity, as it speaks to me of her strength, and what a mother undertakes for her children.

My wife has scars and bruises all over her legs. She is the mother of three boys, and with that comes football, baseball, soccer, and Boy Scouts. She was a swimmer herself, and could not have cared less about these kinds of things, but she made herself into quite the coach as necessity required.

I love these scars too. Our joke has been that should I piss her off enough, she could have me sent to prison for wife abuse simply by showing the cops her legs.

My wife has a scar on her chest, where her right breast used to be. She was too young and too healthy to have breast cancer, but apparently the breast cancer was unaware of these prerequisites, and attacked her anyway. She has always had beautiful breasts, and I a committed breast man. I remember sitting there in the doctor's office thinking that I was going to smash the face of this quack for frightening her (me?) so much with this rubbish. I remember how helpless I felt. I remember how calm she was, so matter of fact, until she came home from the hospital, and we saw the wound together for the first time.

I love this scar more than all the others put together. She didn't believe that then, and I suspect that she doesn't believe it now, but it is true. She was sure that I would be repulsed, that she was not just scarred, but mutilated. Nevertheless, I have a passionate love for this scar. That scar meant that she lived. Every kiss, every caress, every act of love, every fuck since then has been because of that scar. The cosmetic repair after wards is fine, but the scar saved her life. That scar gave us the past 15 years, the boat that we always wanted to retire to, the endless days of sailing the Caribbean, the fun of watching our boys match wits with their boys.

My wife has a scar on the front wall of her heart. I do not love this scar. This scar is going to kill her, and quite soon as it happens. She never did trust me to plan and pack for any of our trips, so she will go ahead to prepare a place for us. Then the only scars will be mine.

Blog Piracy

2009-05-28T20:05:00.004+07:00

As uncreative as a blog post could ever be, this is it. I did my regular checks on few blogs on my list. They're all strangers' to me, the bloggers. But I find them very interesting, each and every individual, that I find myself going back to check their 'personal diary' almost everyday even though I've never talked to them or even known them. So there was this guy who apparently had found one of his old posts somewhere and decided to repost it. Maybe not a very interesting post. Maybe regular. But certainly, it talks directly to me and slapping me on the face. So I guess finally try to articulate my feelings into a blog post after I've finished contemplating and mulled over each and every events that have been occurring in my life for the past few months. However, as much as I want to start the meditation (or as reluctant as I actually am), I decided that I haven't got enough time. And to give a glimpse of my lack of creativity (or should I say, my attempt of blog piracy), I'd post a saying that he has posted in his blog too.

"I am a hopeless romantic and/or romantically hopeless. I have been in very few (one) relationships. I don't fall for people often; so when I do, I know it means something. I used to think I could be fine for the longest time, even if I was alone. I don't know about that anymore. Unfortunately, I haven't had the best luck. Wallowing and dwelling are familiar friends to me."

- Wesley Chan

I kept telling myself...

2009-05-17T20:14:00.011+07:00

that I'm not bothered.

He was only a close friend of mine. Nothing has ever happened and nothing really does. I was only being a good friend even though I admit, there were times I let go of my guard a bit. He came to me, all needy and open to possibility. I gave him what he needed, an ear to listen to his rambles and a shoulder to cry on. He returned the favor by being super nice and anyone who saw us might have been really sure he was romantically intentional in his means. I refused to think so and I never had any change in my behavior nor did I ever treat him any differently than just a friend. So we grew really close but somewhere along the way, we drifted apart. We just did. I kept my composure, never asked for more and never offered more than what was necessary. He became less needy, and he kept a distance. I even didn't feel any loss. In my mind, I felt like nothing has happened and nothing changed. I never changed, I was the same as ever. But he did. He changed. Not that I could complain of.

But now, what he is doing, it's bothering me. And I am NOT jealous. No. It's not denial, it's not self-defense. I know very real that I'm not at all jealous. I have my own feelings towards a guy and I have my own love life. I am not jealous but the fact that he is doing what he is now really bothers me. And this all chaos has pushed me away instinctively. I can neither look them in the eyes nor can I be around them. Deep down I know I can't be around them and I don't want to. I drift further away and I don't even stop myself. So I guess, I'm losing two very special persons in my life, and I don't know how the hell I'm going to stop this. Even if the situation changes, I don't think I can manage.

I don't know. And it frustrates me not being able to talk about it with anybody. It really is. The only person who knows about this keeps wondering if I'm jealous. Which I'm not.

Dammit.

:(

2009-05-12T02:48:00.000+07:00

The sudden disappointment of a hope leaves a scar which the ultimate fulfilment of that hope never entirely removes.

Phenomenal Woman

2009-05-10T22:33:00.005+07:00

By Maya Angelou.

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
the swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
what they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
the need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Still

2009-05-03T02:49:00.002+07:00

This is a short story I wrote when I watched a short silent movie on a TV channel. There was no dialogue in the movie so I was challenged to convey their stories in words. I added a little twist here and there: the feeling description, the past memories and the interpretation of the silent scenes. This is merely a little exercise to my narrative writing skill, and I hope any of you who have read my early works would be kind enough to leave some comments or criticisms as I need them to improve continuously.

Still
Written by: Nicole
Based on a short movie.
All Rights Reserved.

The wind blew the white curtains softly, waving them into the room and caressed her face ever so gently. She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes was fixed at nowhere. A lot of things were on her mind and she could hardly focus on any of them. It was as if her whole life was flashing in front of her eyes but she had no power over it. She could only watch without being able to either stop or pause the silent torturing movie. Far from the reality she drifted away, further and further until she felt as if she was floating outside the bubble and out of her own body. But still, she could hear when slow steps knocking the wooden floor at the hall and her brain worked its wonders. She slipped her feet into the blanket and put her head onto the pillow. Her breaths were so steady that anyone would think she’d fallen asleep hours ago. She listened as the steps were getting closer. She heard the door open and she held her breath. Her eyes were wide open and lifeless. She waited.

The man entered the room. He was a good looking man with eyeglasses and dark suit. He looked like a very decent gentleman who would’ve made a perfect husband and a succesful businessman. He paused at the door, a bit shocked when he saw the shadowing figure asleep on the bed. He didn’t expect her to be there. He thought she would still be at her work, late as usual. But he pulled himself quite well and he realized that her presence wouldn’t change anything. He continued his steps and ever so slowly, not wanting to wake her up, he put the suitcase on the bed. He opened it and for a slight second, he felt an urge of hesitation inside him. His eyes scanned the four corners of the empty suitcase and he blinked. The blink woke him up and threw him back to the reality. Nothing was going to change, his decision was final. It was all too late to go back. If he decided to try again, it would all be the same again. Same as it never was.

He turned around and took his clothes from the drawers. He didn’t even bother to see what he was packing. He just kept taking everything. His shirts, his trousers, his socks, his ties, everything. He was determined to take away everything with him. Maybe not everything. Maybe only things that were still belonged to him. Soon he realized the suitcase was no longer empty. He had thrown in quite many clothes. Perhaps too many. The sight of the messy packed clothes seemed so final. It stated what he was throwing away and what he was sacrificing. Nevertheless, it also promised what he could have in his future. Holding on to the thin string of hope of a better life, he closed the suitcase and pulled the zipper around it. When he went to close the drawers, he saw the a photograph lying in the drawer, put neatly under his clothes. It was taken when they celebrated their first wedding anniversary. A glass of wine was in their hands and there she was, laughing so brightly. He could see his own eyes in the picture, showering her with love and admiration. He remembered his feelings at that time. He felt very blessed to be married to the woman beside her and he felt that he could go through anything for her. The man sighed, and put the photograph back. He felt like the photograph was her last attempt to change his mind, but he knew better. He turned around to take his suitcase and left before she woke up and threatened his own determination to leave.

His eyes then met her body. He could hear her calm and steady breaths while he watched the side of her stomach rising and falling gently under the covers. The curve he knew so well along these past fourteen years. The body that had swayed with his every night, sharing everything from stories of the past to promise of the future. On this very bed, he bore his soul and shared his dreams. On this bed, he cried and laughed. Teased playfully and held lovingly. With the feminine body before him once he immersed himself so deeply that he felt he wouldn’t be able to live without her. He watched her sleeping and exhaled slowly. The old memories from the past years came back, too fast and too strong, and he could almost felt them on his skin. He sat on the edge of the bed, took off his eyeglasses and put his hands on his forehead. He could smell her distinct perfume, but it was the smell of her body that lulled him into sleep. It was the scent he had gotten so used to, the sweet toxicating scent that had always been able to drift him into a peaceful sleep. He didn't know why he didn't just leave at that time. Maybe he was waiting for something to come. Maybe he was waiting for nothing to come. There was not much difference left. So, he waited.

The little boy came into the room and stood in silence at the door, watching the man and the woman asleep. He was around nine and he was wearing his pajamas. In his hand was his old teddy bear, worn from years of hugging and tugging. He watched the couple asleep with eyes wide open. Eyes filled with nothing but questions and inquiries of explanations. Suddenly, as if he sensed the boy’s presence, the man lifted his head up and their eyes met. There was no hint of sleepiness in both of their eyes. There were only questions and answers. Two men of different generations exchanging explanations, the one that couldn’t be conveyed properly with words as words would only wash away the importance of it. So they stared at each other, one asking why and one answering because. One inquiring where and one implying place. One wondering of when and one telling stories of time. One reluctantly wanting to leave the other and one reluctantly wanting to tie down the other. One begging for forgiveness and one offering endless love.

The boy walked closer, approached the man and without any words, he handed him his ragged teddy bear. The man looked surprised at first but the little boy could see how his face turned from surprise to grief. He stared deeply to the boy's eyes and his eyes were glistening with crystal buds of tears. He then rose to his feet and in a quick embrace, he took the little boy into his arms and held him tight as if he would never let him go forever. The feelings between them were so intense that none of them could speak out a word. After a minute that felt like eternity, their lungs suffocated for air and they let go of each other. The man took his eyeglasses, touched the little boy’s cheek as if he was saying the very last goodbye and reached for his suitcase on the bed. With much sadness but less hesitation, he walked towards the door but paused for a moment to take the last glance of his son. His little boy. A part of himself that he used to cradle in his arms and hold upon his shoulder. He felt that he was leaving not only a part of himself but his whole heart. He could barely breathe but he knew this must be done. So with profound emotions obviously drawn on his face, he finally walked out of the room. Out of their lives forever.

The little boy still locked his feet onto the ground, unable to move even if he wanted to. The shadow of his father towering at the doorway, blocking the dim light from the hall, was sculptured inside his head and he was like experiencing a fake feeling. It was like people who could still feel their legs after they were amputated. He kept staring at the door, millions of thoughts raced through his mind. Where was he going? Would he be happy? Would he still remember him? Would they meet again? He felt he could still see his father smiling at him for the last time, even after he was already gone for ten minutes now. He silently stood there in darkness. He just waited.

It was his mother’s steady breaths that finally woke him up. He could see the door clearly and the dim light from the hall made sense to him now. His old man was gone. And now she was the only one he had. The little boy then climbed up into the bed, sneaking his body under the covers beside his mother’s. The warmth filled up his body and he felt safe. He could smell his mother’s body scent and he could smell his father’s. He distinctly recalled the moments he slept between both of them with their hands holding each other, resting on his stomach. He would lie still and sleep peacefully between them, feeling their hands everytime he took a breath. He never knew anyone could feel that safe in their lives.

The boy drew his body closer to his mother’s and circled his hands around her waist. Now he was trying to relive the memory by watching his hand rising and falling steadily above the side of his mother's stomach. Her back faced him and he suddenly felt very safe, just like when he used to sleep together with both of his parents. Not very long, as it always was, he went into deep sleep. Worries left his mind already and he felt home. He didn't realize that his hand wasn’t rising and falling so steady anymore. He didn’t realize that his mother’s breaths were shorter and he was already so soundly asleep when they stopped.

The rest of the photographs were lying on the floor messily just beside the bed. Her hand hung powerlessly and inside her now open fist were few pills left. The rest were scattered along with the photographs. The bottle was open and it was empty. There was not quite many left, perhaps only one-fifth of the whole bottle. Her eyes were wide open and a trail of dried tear ran through the corner of her eyes. She still waited.

Finale.

I shall remember this for the rest of my life.

2009-05-02T12:25:00.001+07:00

“I don't know if I continue, even today, always liking myself. But what I learned to do many years ago was to forgive myself. It is very important for every human being to forgive herself or himself because if you live, you will make mistakes- it is inevitable. But once you do and you see the mistake, then you forgive yourself and say, 'well, if I'd known better I'd have done better,' that's all. So you say to people who you think you may have injured, 'I'm sorry,' and then you say to yourself, 'I'm sorry.' If we all hold on to the mistake, we can't see our own glory in the mirror because we have the mistake between our faces and the mirror; we can't see what we're capable of being. You can ask forgiveness of others, but in the end the real forgiveness is in one's own self. I think that young men and women are so caught by the way they see themselves. Now mind you. When a larger society sees them as unattractive, as threats, as too black or too white or too poor or too fat or too thin or too sexual or too asexual, that's rough. But you can overcome that. The real difficulty is to overcome how you think about yourself. If we don't have that we never grow, we never learn, and sure as hell we should never teach.”

By Maya Angelou

Truth about a girl.

2009-04-28T23:20:00.006+07:00

When I don't call you, it's because I'm waiting for you to call me.

When I walk away from you and looking mad, follow me.

When I stare at your face barely blinking my eyes, kiss me.

When I push you or hit you, grab me and don't let go.

When I start cursing at you and saying bad things about you, tell me you love me.

When I'm quiet, ask me what's wrong.

When I pull away from you, pull me back.

When I was at my worst, tell me I'm beautiful.

When I start crying, hold me and tell me everything will be alright.

When you see me walking, sneak up and hug my waist from behind.

When I tease you, tease me back and make me laugh.

When I look at you with doubt, back yourself up and have a little faith in me.

When we fight, believe in us.

When I say that I like you, I really actually like you more than you could understand.

When I grab your hands, hold mine and play with my fingers.

When I bump into you, don't be mad and make me laugh.

When I tell you a secret, keep it safe and untold.

When I share my problems, give solutions and discuss instead of just listening.

When I look into your eyes, don't look away until I do.

When I miss you, I'm hurting inside.

When you break my heart, I may have forgiven you, but the pain never really goes away.

When I said 'don't be too sweet', compliment me even more.

When I said I was okay, I never am.

When I say it's over, I actually still want you to be mine, and never want you to be far.

Because of You

2009-04-27T00:22:00.003+07:00

You've hurt me more than you could ever known

I was hoping and you were tearing

I loved you and you broke me

You said things so bad it couldn't be real

But I foolishly took it all in

Believing that nothing was all I'd ever be

'Because of you,

I never stray to fall from the side walks...'

'Because of you,

I learnt to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt...'

I went through hell to get where I am now

And the hell was almost all about forgetting you

I loved you and you broke me

You said things so bad it couldn't be real

I didn't want to believe it came from you

After all, now it's all about forgetting you

'Because of you,

I find it hard to trust not only me but everyone around me...'

'Because of you,

I am afraid...'

I am now an accomplished girl

I have people loving me and taking me as I am

But I loved you and you broke me

And that is what I'll have to forever live with

You hurt me more than you could ever known

I hope someday you'll meet me and then you'll know

That letting you go was the only battle I proudly won

Because of you...

THIS... is how to do it right.

2009-04-24T01:07:00.010+07:00

Preston Burke:

I could promise to hold you, and to cherish you. I could promise to be there, in sickness and health. I could say till death do us part. But I won't. Those vows are for optimistic couples, the ones full of hope. I do not stand here on my wedding day optimistic or full of hope. I am not optimistic. I am not hopeful. I am sure. I am steady. I'm a heart man. Take 'em apart, put 'em back together, hold them in my hands. I am a heart man. So this, I am sure. You are my partner. My lover. My very best friend. My heart. My heart beats for you. And on this day, the day of our wedding, I promise to lay my heart in the palm of your hands, I promise you... me.

And a cute one:

I now take you to be my lawfully wedded wife.

To be together in happiness and strife,

To have and to hold,

Even if your cooking grows mold.

I love you in richness and in debt,

And cherish all moments since we have met.

I promise to love you until the end of my days,

As long as you stay out of my baseball plays.

I pledge to be faithful,

Even when we're old and dull.

Truth.

2009-04-22T21:51:00.002+07:00

A madman,

a sweaty-toothed madman

I close my eyes

His image flicks beside me,

with a stare that pounds my brain

His hands reach out and choke me

All the time he mumbles slowly,

Truth . . .

Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold!

Stretch it, pull it, it will never cover any of us

Kick at it, beat at it, it will never be enough . . .

From the moment we enter crying,

to the moment we leave dying,

it will cover just your head as you wail and cry and scream.

(From Dead Poets Society - By Todd Anderson)

Secret Life of Bees

2009-04-19T20:40:00.008+07:00

I watched a great movie last night. Definitely, one of the best movies of all time. There have been several flicks that I label as 'tear-jerkers' and boy, isn't this one included. It's called 'The Secret Life of Bees'. The astounding performance by Dakota Fanning captured me so deeply I didn't even realize I've been sitting straight for two hours without moving. I gotta say, I've never seen Queen Latifah played more beautifully and gracefully ever. I haven't had any movie that got me into thinking few days afterwards, not after Freedom Writers and Good Will Hunting. The movie addresses the emotion and cultural conflicts so well, each character was exposed to their own story. Each of them came across with the others', the connection was inexplicable but yet, it is so beautifully resolved in the end of the story. This is the third time I've cried so hard because of a movie (first time is because Good Will Hunting and second time is because Freedom Writers), crying hard as in gulping for air and sobbing violently. I don't even cry that badly for myself.

1. Lily Owens

This young woman, yes I prefer young woman rather than little girl, held tremendous burden in her life. She had the most terrifying past anyone can bear to live with, she killed his own mother when she was four. Ever since, she's been abused physically and emotionally by his own father, T.Ray, who didn't even want to talk to her if unnecessary. She had been missing her mother, feeling guilty for what she's done, and was determined to find out more about her. Up until one night, her father told her that her mother once left the house. He told her that the day she got killed, her mother was only coming back for her things, and not for Lily. Taken aback, Lily refused to believe the story and kept her faith on her mother. She was sure her mother couldn't have done that. It was as if the only fact she treasured about her mother, her mother's love for her, was taken away cold-heartedly. I don't think she could bear the thought of killing her mother and moreover, knowing her mother never actually loved her enough to fight for her. She then left the house, and journeyed to find the answer. Along the way, she met few incredible people who painfully, she had to lie to. She carefully built a wall to shelter her from them but nonetheless, being an innocent young woman she was, she loved them without being able to do otherwise. But unfortunate events happened, and she blamed herself for them. It was true, in a sense, they couldn't have happened if it wasn't because of her, but they all happened for a good reason. That was what she was missing, I guess. And we can't blame her, she was so used to being blamed. She lived with guilt just as she learned how to talk. She was unlovable, or so she thought.

2. Rosaleen

The time in which they lived was not friendly at all for a woman like Rosaleen. She was a colored woman, and not the smart one either. She only wanted to vote, to make herself heard. But she didn't realize how impossible it still was even after the Civil Rights Act issued. She hated the world, resented herself for being so hopeless and defenseless about her race, but still couldn't stop loving the white girl who's been with her along the way. I guess, she only wanted a family where she was accepted and not treated like crap. I was really happy to see her growing from a negative and angry woman who didn't even dare to open her mouth to speak for herself to a happy and bright woman who knew how to defend her loved ones. She was at first so angry at the world and at herself, blaming the world for not accepting her and blaming herself for not being able to fight the world hard enough. But she changed and that was a really beautiful transformation.

3. August Boatwright

I was stunned by Queen Latifah. I couldn't imagine seeing her like that and there I was, thinking, 'Man, what a cool mother she'd make!'. She was calm and graceful. She knew how to handle things the right way, and unbelievably, the most pleasant way possible too. When she first saw Lily, there was something in her face that told me right away she wasn't at all fooled by Lily's lie. She didn't know what Lily was trying to hide nor did she know why she had to do so, but she knew Lily came for the truth. She lifted her heart, and that was all she did throughout the movie. She said that the only matters in life was lifting people's hearts. That's what matters, so she said. I saw an extraordinary and phenomenal woman in her. She wasn't married and not because she wasn't loved or she didn't love enough to marry, but simply she loved her freedom more. Even when she said the words, I had the slight feeling that it wasn't all. Being the eldest sister, she felt the obligation to take care of her younger sisters, especially May, and she knew she wouldn't be able to be there for her as much as she wanted to be if she was married. When she lost May, the grief she felt struck a chord inside me and I was dumbfounded before my own TV. She howled in sorrow, for God's sake. But she took her lost peacefully and gracefully, just like she dealt with anything else in her life. She understood the life concepts, perhaps one of the hardest: letting go. She was the key of the movie. Without her, no questions would be answered and there would be no way Lily could make peace with her past, her present, her future and most importantly with herself and her father.

4. June Boatwright

The beauty. I didn't even remember she was Alicia Keys. She was so selfish and full of disdain towards Lily and Rosaleen when they first came into the house. I couldn't understand her hatred although I didn't hate her. I learnt from the beginning of the movie that no one in this movie deserved to be hated. They all had their own sorrows and their own emotional burdens. They just happened to cross and stepped at each other's burdens. I was waiting patiently to see her story and why she acted so devilishly among all Boatwright sisters. She didn't marry her faithful suitor, but of why this might be, I'm still trying to figure it out. A part of me said she was only being selfish, because she didn't like to surrender. Accepting the man's proposal felt somehow like a defeat to her, like she was not in the control anymore. But I felt a bit of another feeling within her. I felt a glimpse of sisterly love and obligation towards May, just like her older sister, August. I was really touched when she started to gradually accept Lily and Rosaleen and eventually, really loved them both. I loved how she could let her selfish side go and started learning the concept of loving other people after she lost May. She let Neil loved her, she let Lily loved her, she let Rosaleen into the family, and she let herself loved her. The emotional journey that she went through, from a person who was so full of hatred into a person who loved possessively, would never go unnoticed. As little her role might be, you would've realized her growth and celebrated it with her.

5. May Boatwright

This may be the most heart-wrenching character for me. Others might love and feel for Lily more but I just couldn't help to cry and weep for May. She had a twin sister named April. April died when they were still little and when they were still together, they have the most intense twin emotional bond. Whenever April was hurt, May would feel the same pain. Whenever May tripped down and fell, a mysterious bruise would appear on the exact location in April's body, just like in May's. And when April died, mysteriously, the world became May's twin sister. Can you imagine how it might feel to carry the world's burden with you? May would cry for anything. When someone was in pain, she cried. When someone hesitated and confused, she sensed it. When someone lost his/her loved one, she felt a part of herself was gone too. She couldn't hate or be angry, she was too occupied with people's burdens. I couldn't exactly portray how it would feel to be like her, I could only imagine. I heart her and I feel for her. When she decided to let go of the burdens, I felt somehow relieved and in a way, I think it was the most perfect happy ending for her. While the others had so much more to live and to pursue, I think if she continued hers, she'd lose more than she'd ever gain.

This is a story about pain, guilt, hopelessness, hope, grief, acceptance, freedom, justice, forgiveness, love and letting go. I can't believe there could be so much aspects a two-hour movie can cover, yet so successfully convey the depth of each emotions. This really worth your time. And if you relate to one of the feelings, you would definitely learn something from it. Even if you had the happiest childhood possible and you've never felt such intense emotions like the ones captured in the movie, you would still find it enjoyable.

What's NEXT?

2009-04-19T12:26:00.002+07:00

This is a really non-creative blog since I literally stole the idea from Linda, an old friend of mine. So here I am, reading her blog and thought, 'Hm, interesting. Why not writing one of your own?' and for seconds later, thought, 'You're unbelievably uncreative. But hey, you still want to do it anyway so... yeah.'

What's NEXT? I've come to realize that I'm really a long-term planning type of person. I find it exciting and gives me more space to explore the possibilities. I don't do short-term plans cos I tend to change mind quite too easily. But Linda's what-next got me into wondering, maybe I should try making shorter-term plans. I'll call in quarter long-term plans.

- The National Outstanding Student Competition

- International internship

- A career in teaching English

Let's talk about these.

1. The National Outstanding Student Competition

Every year, DIKTI (a national governance institution for education) have this particular competition where they choose few potential students in each universities and colleges throughout the nation. These students will then compete nationally by submitting a scientific paper on the addressed topics. They provide some sub-topics for us to choose and explore and I have to say, some of them are quite interesting.

I'm never too fond of entering competition, I have to admit. I am a driven person, but I am pretty reluctant to call myself ambitious. And I don't enjoy competition as much as other people may do. However, I love challenges. And the thought of submitting a piece of scientific paper to the national governance institution feels like I'm doing something right for the country. As we all clearly know, there's nothing much I can claim to have done for this country so I'm entering this competition (not that I could say no, anyway, but I've decided to give my best instead of just submitting a plain paper) and let's see where this may take me. I don't have high hopes, looking at my friends who are also chosen to enter this competition by my university, I really don't have high hopes. In fact, they don't have anywhere else to go, so I'm just flying down the radar, doing something I think I will enjoy doing.

2. International internship

Another opportunity has presented itself upon me, I gotta say. AIESEC, a Dutch student organization, has decided to open its 2nd branch office in my university. So there will be a big opportunity for us to apply for the internships and travel around the globe to have new experiences of working with people from various countries. I personally aim for the Development Internships where you actually work with non-profit social organizations and work with children, HIV patients, and so on. Being in the developing country myself, I don't see much opportunity here. The people in need are abundant, the people who care are only a glimpse. So, I think doing an internship program in US, Canada or UK (any developed country) would provide me with professional experience in handling social issues. Those countries would teach me how to do the community work the right way and most importantly, the professional way. I just hope that my experience can be a good use later when I come back to Indonesia.

Plus, I can't wait to see the world beyond this borders! ;D

3. A career in teaching English

I've been teaching English in local school for four years now. I've been doing it among my busy schedule of college (trust me, my college takes away my social life) and you can say, I enjoy it very very very much. I love the kids. Even though they're giving me daily headaches and occasional heart-attacks, draining my energy and causing me serious sore-throat, I still love teaching them. The problem is, I'm a self-educated teacher. I didn't undergo any teaching class or program. My teaching style has been a result of observing my own teachers and forming creative delivery method in my mind after watching movies, reading books, etc. I don't have perfect English, I still make craps and I've got so much to learn. I can't be compared with high-qualified teachers who have undergone intensive teaching courses. But I want to be one.

So, another opportunity again, my friend. I've got to known this English teacher of mine in my college. She's a bright and friendly girl who seems to like me very much (even though I don't really know why) and she gave me this information about CELTA course. Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults (CELTA) is an initial qualification for people with little or no teaching experience and it opens up a whole world of exciting teaching opportunities. It is awarded by University of Cambridge so its quality is unquestionable.

My hesitation is, if I'm going to take this CELTA course, I will be calling it an investment. And most likely, I'll then have to (or better to) pursue a career in teaching English. I like the idea of teaching English but I'm not sure I've come around the idea of doing it forever (or at least, few decades in the future). I could continue teaching where I do now, but CELTA course has grown to become a challenge for me to explore. Once, I treated TOEFL test the same way. When TOEFL test was seen as a very difficult test to get through by most of Indonesian students 5-10 years ago, I managed to bring myself to a satisfyingly high score. For the second time in my life, I'm challenged to take this course and discover how far I can succeed in it. And English is really the only subject that can trigger such enthusiasm in me. Like I said, I've never been the ambitious type.

So you see, the world has presented few opportunities before me. When I wished for one, none seemed to come but now, I have several considerations to make. Which one should I go for? Which one would be my first quarter long-term plan? This remain a question for me, whether to take CELTA or AIESEC internship program.

A day when trusts are being compromised. Or worse, sold.

2009-04-19T02:10:00.002+07:00

I went to the election booth yesterday. My first trip to an election booth. And there I was, standing dumbfoundedly and not knowing what to do. Or who to choose. There were these three BIG pages consisting names and pictures of the politicians that would be representing my area at provincial level. But let me stop you here.

The election in Indonesia is like no other countries. Let's just take the newest election celebrated, the United States' election. Unlike US, we have not only two parties but we have total of 44 parties. Yes, fourty-freaking-four parties. At least, that is so much that I know of. Try inserting a keyword to get a glimpse of the so-called political campaigns in Indonesia. Unlike US' organized political campaigns, we have no idea when the campaign had started and suddenly the Election Day has come. Now, do we know all of the names of the parties? No. Do we care to know? No. Do they make any attempt of letting us know who they are? Hell no.

I went inside, still didn't have the slightest idea what to choose. I admit, I might not be paying attention to the election campaigns like I should have. But I have an argument. I don't find any campaign interesting enough for me to watch or to follow. There were so many posters everywhere, dangling and hanging at every corner of the country. Unknown faces, crappy designs, lousy typos and none of them offer promising campaign. None of them even had the decent intelligence of a politician campaigning for power. All were radiating the same message: I'm becoming a legislative because this position offers huge pay and easy tasks, so just like everyone else, I couldn't resist. Help me on getting a lot of money. Pick me! They even have Gandalf in their posters!

So what exactly are we doing here? We treat Election Day just like any other national holiday. We walk into the election booth, not knowing what to choose (for most of us) and that's why they have the posters and the big list of parties. Because they KNOW we won't know what to choose. It's like advertising a product. You've seen the advertisements on TV and you are obliged to buy a product. So you walk into the supermarket and the last thing that determines your choice is the packaging of your product. We sought for the best names, maybe the one that suits your religion or your ethnicity, or the best face. The prettiest woman or the most handsome man. This happens. This really happens.

Call me cynical, but I am one of those many citizens who feel like this whole election is just a childish game which must be conducted solely because it's time, and filled by people who could care less about the nation's prosperity. This disgusts me. Maybe among these people, there are some folks who really want to make a difference. But they should've made more attempt to show their good intention. They should've made themselves heard. They should've made us see. But they didn't. So wherever we, the poor citizens, go, we only see lousy posters with ugly faces, asking for votes they don't even deserve.

Obama was there too, if you must know.

You know, I read an article in a fashion magazine few days ago. It's about sex. And I bumped into a good line, "Sex without love is like a promise you can't keep." That sentence struck a chord inside me and only God knows why for I don't even know why. When I was faced with almost a hundred choices at the election booth, I couldn't help but recall the line. I said to myself, "This is like sex without love. It's like a promise you know you can't keep. And hell, you don't even promise."

What I hate so much from this election is that they demand trust so fiercely we don't even realize it. They don't bother to give us anything, not even a promise. Or maybe if they do give us a promise, they still don't present us any implementation real enough to make us believe their promises aren't false hopes. In their campaigns, they don't talk about the future. They talk about the current conditions. The poor farmers and the children not being able to go to school. They talk about their past years of governance. They talk about the rising of global oil price and their past attempts in lowering it. (Not their REAL attempts because we all know they intentionally raised the national oil price so high so that they could lower them three times back to normal). They talk about the past, the good things they've done that make them deserve to rule once again. They talk about the present, a condition everyone are so much aware of. None of them mentions the future.

So we all walk into the booth, our trust demanded, and in the end of day, when promises aren't kept and things got worse, we have no one to blame but ourselves. After all, if things get worse, it's not their fault. They didn't promise us anything, right?

Like an old popular saying goes, "Trust cannot be given. It must be earned."

I love this country. So much and perhaps more than some other citizens out there. But painfully I have to admit that I think, a better era would finally (hopefully) come to this country, if one day this nation's government understands the depth of this line's meaning.

P.S. By the way, no offense to those who really follow the campaigns and choose their trusted representatives. I'm just speaking from the majority part.

P.P.S. If you're choosing the current government, the Democrat, just because that's the only party you know of, then you're most certainly with me.

25 Things about Moi

2009-04-19T02:07:00.007+07:00

001. I love a lot of things. Particularly art. I love writing, singing, and drawing. I appreciate art so much, even though this doesn't mean I'm any of an artistic being. I don't draw well, they are horribly a suffering for the eyes, actually. Every now and then, I make weak attempts of writing, and find personal satisfactory over the common works. I sing in choirs, which explains how I don't have the courage nor the talent to sing for anyone in any kind of occasion except in a church where no one would ever talk badly about your singing.

002. I find solitude the most in reading. When I read, I feel there's this whole other world for me to discover, and book reviews are something so sexy to me. I can spend 8 to 10 hours in a bookstore, something I rarely can do when living in a city and having so little time for myself. I abandoned the habit lately due to college schedule but I knew I was just making up excuses. Now I'm ready to nourish and relive my old days of reading.

003. I don't play any musical instruments. No matter how I envy those who can blow beautiful tunes out of a piece of hollow metal, I can't. And I'd love to learn, but again the old excuse. Haven't got time to learn it right now.

004. I PROCRASTINATE. The biggest fact about me is that I'm a natural procrastinator. With number 002 and 003 being stated above, everyone can see I make up excuses of not doing things. Not because I don't want to do them, I just love postponing until there's no time left for me to postpone it any further.

005. I plan long-term plans. I don't do well with short-term plans, they seem less exciting for me. With long-term plans, I can think of greater and bigger things.

006. I get bored easily. This is not too damaging since I don't make short-term plans a lot. So when I am bored with my idea, I can still make necessary changes to the plan. I know how bad my habit is, but I just enjoy it quite too much. Guilty pleasure, people would say.

007. I believe that women can be just as tough as men. I never consider myself as a feminist, but I am definitely one of those people who think that there's nothing a man can do and a woman can't, while we all know a man will always be inferior to us girls. They don't have babies popping out of their penises.

008. I love Italian food. I have this secret (now, not so much of a secret anymore) dream of going to Italian village to learn cooking all the fabulous foods. The big pans, the herbs, the ingredients, the kitchen, they all fascinate me. I just want to learn how to cook Italian food so much.

009. I hate people who pretend they know about everything while they actually aren't. Yes, they include people who think they know me just because they've been friends with me for some times, while actually, they don't at all.

010. I know that a lot of people think I'm an open book, and I let them to think so. But I never consider myself as one. I see myself as a complicated soul who sometimes is very different with others and some other times, is no different to other at all. I don't think I'm an open book cos I choose what to show to others and what not. I choose to share with only some people.

011. I think when people look at me, they see what they want to see. Most often, they developed my personality before they got to know me. Which is weird. But I believe that there are some people around me who can actually get me and see me.

012. I never dream to be fashionable but I like wearing clothes that look good on me. I choose stuffs that represent me. I have a boyish, feminine, messy, and even a naughty side within me, and I choose stuffs that represents each of those sides.

013. I see people. Not every person, but I can see through them and sometimes see their intentions or motives behind their actions and decisions. I don't like some what I've seen in people, but I've learnt so much from what I've seen. I see people and I think that's a talent.

014. I am currently learning how to multitask very well, something I always remember Vivian by. =) I just think it's very cool if you can do that. It makes you look smart. And, it's convenient.

015. I am a very social person. I enjoy engaging with people and learn about them. I enjoy seeing them and get to know their stories. I find it enriching mine. Maybe because I'm that extroverted, I find solitude in most quiet way possible. One of them is by reading, and some others are like sitting alone at home or zoning out in a crowd.

016. I am a humanitarian. I find myself experiencing various intense emotions over several issues of humanity like abusive behavior or children mistreatment.

017. I love Oprah. I know a lot of people think she is a common issue, but I don't care. Everyone loves Oprah and it is no surprise if another girl worships her, but I really do. As common as it sounds, I think she can do something I'd love to be able to do while I am still breathing. At some points, I sometimes even think I'd want to be my own version of Oprah. I'd be her in my own way.

018. I don't fear what a lot of people fear. For example: death. What I fear is that if I don't accomplish anything before I die and my death would be in vain. Another one is uncertainty. I love my own comfort bubbles but I am one of those people who are daring enough to step out of them and seek for new adventures. Partly maybe it's because I believe I won't die just because I'm not comfortable.

019. I love languages. I worship them. I think it's a very magical and astonishing thing to be able to convey same intentions but with different words and accents. It's amazing how people can be saying the exact same thing but understands no other language than their own. I would really love to be able to speak at least five languages in 10 years time.

020. I don't mind same sex relationships and I believe in interracial relationships. I think any kind of relationship is unique in its own way and they all bear the same basic thing, care and affection. They may not be love, but they must be cousins. I think affection is the common language, the language that all relationships speak in, and therefore, I'm trying to respect whether it's same sex or different sex, whether it's intimate or not, whether it's kinship or friendship, I'm just trying to see what they all have in common.

021. I am 75% optimistic and 25% pessimistic. By nature, I am a pessimistic person who is often tempted to trust fear instead of hope, but I take charge of myself and most of the times, I command myself to look at the bright side and have a little faith.

022. I know which people I cherish, which people I don't like and which people I hate. I have difficulties in conveying my feelings towards them as along the way, I always try to read them more thoroughly. You know, just in case I missed anything and misjudged them because of it. I sometimes feel quite introvert because of this particular side of me. I find it irritating not being able (by choice) to really show what I feel as instantly as I would like myself to be.

023. I love Indonesia so much but I do have some personal dilemma. I want to do something for her because I think she's got a lot of potential and she deserves her citizens to fight for her. Sometimes I feel I won't be able to do anything, there are too many damages, and I want to just take off and live in other country for the rest of my life. A natural temptation for every Indonesian who has learnt about other countries and compared them to Indonesia.

024. I prefer strawberry rather than vanilla and I choose vanilla over chocolate. But, I love chocolate so much.

025. I think every person can just survive on his or her own. Nonetheless, I respect my friends and I do think at some points, I need them to survive. I think without them, the worst thing can happen. And it's not about being lonely or not having people to laugh with but you can lose your personality and no one would be there to remind you when you've forgotten. That's what I fear the most in losing friends.

Not so truthful, oh, the truthful folks.

2009-04-19T02:07:00.006+07:00

"One has to know one's own limit, when to cross the line and when not to. But how can one knows one's own limit if one doesn't even know oneself?"

I like reading notes :) Maybe that's what brought me into writing this particular note. Browsing through my wide range of friends, literally, I stumbled upon some very well-written notes. An old friend of mine, Queena, has written few heart-warming notes and a past acquaintance of mine, Ruby, with whom I had a dinner together with and that's it, has also written some of his well-put thoughts.

Then I thought, it must be very wonderful to be able to write so beautifully. I always consider writing as an art. An art of conveying very profound thoughts into a string of words. It all started with a concept, a blank page, and the words just flowed gracefully. Even right now when I'm writing this, I still envy those people who can write incredibly well. So, let me have the honor to try explaining the inexplicable things in a most plain way possible.

(Beware, I'm not guaranteeing any success)

This is a confession note.

A truthful note from a not-so-truthful girl.

All of my life, I've been searching, just like anyone else on earth. Some do it consciously, some not so much. Being a self-conscious person I am, I have enough intelligence to understand if there's something wrong with me. Having said so, I'm only a human. When I sensed something is wrong, I make prejudices. On myself, yes. I know something is calling and waving at me, shouting the words at me, "HEY, I AM YOUR PROBLEM!" but I turned my back to it and I said, "Well, there's nothing quite so wrong about me."

I am disgraceful, because deeply, I realized not everyone has this privilege. Not everyone can have a part of themselves clearly waving at them and telling them what the problem was. Not everyone can easily spot what's wrong and what should be repaired. I am one of those lucky bastards, but I still chose not to take any advantage of it. But you shouldn't blame me. I'm just one of those persons who are scared to look at their problems because then, they'll have to admit that they are problematic. And I don't want to be problematic.

A person's mind resembles an abyss in depth. You can't and you won't succeed in measuring someone's mind. The furthest you can do is guessing what they might be thinking. But a guess is only a guess. Now anyone who thought this happens only when we are guessing others' thoughts, is totally wrong. Guess what, it happens inwards too. You always make a guess at yourself, too. You thought you'd be reacting A, but instead you have this profound urge to act B. Most of the times, we follow our logic and still do A. We use our brain and not our gut. That's when mistakes are mostly made. Why? Isn't it wrong to always follow your gut? Yes, it might be. But by following your gut, you have this firm understanding at who you are, what you would choose, and how you make your decisions. Those things make the mistakes worthwhile. Those things might as well prevent you from feeling worse guilt.

So here I am, having a part of me waving at me. Easily, I could've shut my eyes and pretend nothing has happened. But who am I kidding? I know something's wrong and that's all what matters. I'm not fooling anyone here. So for the first time in my life... the two me, one who has traveled and see the world and one who stayed behind, stand face-to-face. I'm not ignoring this abandoned part of me and it's time to face my own reality. Reality without which I wouldn't be who I am today. Reality I'm not proud with at all. Reality which has resulted from years of ignorance. Not easy to admit this, but writing this down makes it more real.

I tend to procrastinate and have difficulty following project through from beginning to end. I don't take things too seriously. My idea of what serious things and what not are skewed and in a very inexplicable manner. It's frustrating when disagreements keep happening between me and other people. I look at a thing, thinking it was not very serious, and being judged by others for being ignorant because they think it was serious. I look at another thing and thinking it's a freaking serious problem but others won't even have a glance at it.

I feel guilty when I stand up for myself or act in my own best interests. Might sound heroic, but I felt it. Not happy with it, but I felt it. I FELT IT. And my intelligence laughed at me for it. My own intelligence is telling me that I'm absurd and stupid. I shouldn't feel guilty for wanting something. I shouldn't feel guilty to stand for myself, but I felt it. Period.

I give in to others' needs and opinions instead of taking care of myself. I let people shape me. I am angry when they think wrongly at me. I want them to know the real me before they judge me. But I also don't want them to know the real me. I don't want them to find out what's within me. And while I'm deciding between these two confusing needs, to be understood and to be misunderstood, I let people shape me.

It is difficult for me to "let go." I am angry. I am disappointed. And often, it is so hard for me to forgive and let go. I want to linger on those negative emotions as long as I want, no matter how often my brain tells me I should let go and be freed. I felt that letting go might result in losing a part of myself and I tried to hold onto everything, even when I know with all my understanding, I shouldn't be holding onto them. I should let go of some things because that's how you move on. That's how you continue with your life. And I can't continue my life just because of this particular reason.

I am intimidated by angry people and intense emotions. The more angry people become, the less I can express my anger. Or even worse, thoughts and feelings. Mine all will happen few moments later, when no one is experiencing intense emotions nearby. When someone dies and everyone are crying, I feel this hollow emptiness of not feeling any kind of emotions. When people are overjoyed, I smile but I don't experience the same amount of excitement. I feel numb when people are emotional. I hold back when people burst. I pull away when people shine away.

I expect others to just know what I want. I've stopped asking for understanding or even showing I need it. I fear of embarrassing myself. I fear of facing rejections. So, I want them to 'just know'. As selfish as it may sound, I really feel so most of the times. But when people don't know what I want, I'll be angry. Instead of blaming them, however, I'll then blame me. And...

I lie when I don't need to. Here it goes. Apparently, I am not the oh-so-truthful girl I want myself to appear to be. I used to use the lies as my personal survival kit. Though I know the tactic is no longer helpful, now that I'm not a kid anymore, and it's very unnecessary but I survived with it. I survived from the dark cliff of death with it. It has been my defense strategy for all my life. It's been working well and it's hard to cope with the fact that I might have to stop using it. Even now I'm thinking of leaving it, I feel bare and insecure.

So. Okay, I am now having a significant amount of fear. What the hell am I thinking about, writing this on a published note?

I guess I just need to face my own reality. Those things are things I've ignored for 20 years. I've loathed people who show those traits but yet, I am simply one of them. I hated them because they reflect me. They remind me of the nasty side of me. But I'm stepping up. I'm not one of them anymore because I've confessed. I've confessed and it's time to deal with them. One by one. Through the upcoming years, I'll become a better me. And I'm going to succeed. You should, too.

While those of you, who might not be one of us, can do something else. Whenever you have an acquaintance who keep saying 'I'm fine.', they're NOT fine. If they say, 'it doesn't matter.', remember, they matter. What they do might first not matter, but the person matters. And since they matter, the thing they do becomes an important matter too. Remember that. Don't assume that those people have their family to support them and hence, you don't need to help. Don't even assume that because most of the times, most likely, their parents are the ones who should be blamed. In a way, consciously or not, their parents teach them that they don't matter. They teach them their feelings aren't important. They teach them not to even try to fill their own needs. They teach them that their lives are worth nothing. They teach that they are of no use to anyone and they are only a burden. Then they teach them not to ask for help. They teach them to feel guilty for having needs. This is why they say, "I'm fine. It doesn't matter."

And that is the only legal crime in the world. Killing your sons and daughters by convincing them that their life is not worth living is legal and acceptable in our society. So don't assume if you have not the slightest idea where they came from.

P.S. Just in case no one noticed yet, I'm a very late bloomer. :)

---

"The remedy is the experience. I won't worry my life away."

sahabat bagiku.

2009-04-19T01:56:00.001+07:00

I sometimes find it hard to believe how fast it all can happen… How a person can come into your world and just flip it around (in a good way). It’s kind of a miracle that there are people out there who by just being a part of your life…. make it better.

Nah, ini dia pertanyaan yang semua orang sangka mereka bisa jawab, tapi mungkin hanya segelintir yang bisa mengerti sedalam apa arti dua kata di atas. Well, bagi semua orang, tiap orang, tentu beda-beda… I get it. Gue sendiri mengganti definisi sahabat beberapa kali, thinking I got it right every time. Tapi sejalan dengan perjalanan hidup gue, gue pun tau ada yang harus diperbaiki.

PERTAMA KALI:

Sahabat bagi gue: seseorang yang mau mendengarkan keluh kesah gue dan selalu ada di samping gue.

KEDUA KALI:

Sahabat bagi gue: seseorang yang mau mendengarkan keluh kesah gue dan selalu ada disamping gue, bikin gue ketawa dan selalu nasehatin gue.

KETIGA KALI:

Sahabat bagi gue: seseorang yang mau mendengarkan keluh kesah gue dan selalu ada disamping gue, bikin gue ketawa dan selalu nasehatin gue. seseorang yang bisa diajak ngomong kapan aja.

Nah…

Berhubung ketiganya cuma ber-evolusi, gue ambil yang ketiga untuk gue koreksi.

1. seseorang yang mau mendengarkan keluh kesah gue dan selalu ada disamping gue.

Gue berpikir dan terus meneliti. Dan ternyata gue baru menemukan jawaban-jawabannya. Sahabat itu BUKAN seseorang yang mau mendengarkan keluh kesah gue dan selalu ada di samping gue. Sahabat itu seseorang yang TETAP mendengarkan keluh kesah gue, siap mendengar meski sebenarnya dia juga ada yg mau diceritain. Sahabat itu bukan seseorang yang selalu disamping gue, tapi seseorang yang meski gak di samping gue, gue tetep tau gue gak kehilangan dia karena di tangan dia, jati diri gue aman. She knows the real me even though she’s not with me.

2. bikin gue ketawa dan selalu nasehatin gue.

Pelawak emangnya, mas? Ato nyokap? Ato nyokap loe pelawak? Banyak orang yang bisa bikin gue ketawa, but surely mereka bukan sahabat gue. Banyak orang yang menasehati gue, atau sok menasehati, dan gak berarti mereka sahabat gue. Sahabat bagi gue tidak harus bisa bikin gue ketawa, tapi dia akan ketawa sama gue. Sahabat itu seseorang yang tidak menasehati tapi membiarkan kita melakukan apa yang kita mau. Ia membiarkan kita bertindak dan mengambil keputusan dalam hidup kita, menghormati kita sebagai orang dewasa dan tidak mengatur hidup kita. Ia tidak melakukan apa-apa, tapi berdiri di belakang kita dan jika kita berbalik untuk menangis akan keputusan yang salah atau bersorak akan keputusan yang benar, itulah ketika ia bergabung dengan kesedihan atau kegembiraan kita. Ia tidak menasehati tapi ia berpendapat. Berpendapat secara faktual dan tidak menghakimi. Tetap membiarkan kita memiliki kebebasan untuk mengambil keputusan tanpa ada beban.

3. seseorang yang bisa diajak ngomong kapan aja.

Bagi gue, yang lebih penting bukan kapan saja, tapi APA SAJA. Sahabat itu seseorang yang bisa gue ajak ngomong tentang APA SAJA. Semua hal tidak penting seperti lebar kaki gue, jumlah tahi lalat di badan gue, posisi tidur kesukaan gue sampe obrolan seperti idealisme gue dan cara gue melihat masa depan.

Kesimpulannya:

Ketika loe mencari arti sahabat, jangan lihat permukaannya. Bareng-bareng tiap hari tidak membuat seseorang menjadi sahabat loe. Tahu rahasia loe tidak membuat seseorang jadi sahabat loe. Bahkan, punya hobi yang sama tetap tidak menjadikan seseorang sahabat loe.

Arti sahabat itu justru sangat fundamental. Sangat basic.

Sahabat itu orang yang bisa menyelesaikan kalimat loe. That’s all.

Dia mengerti loe, mulai dari cara pikir, sifat, kegemaran, preferensi, selera, bahkan cara loe mengambil keputusan. Dia tau kelemahan dan kekuatan loe. Dia bisa nebak apa yang akan ada di pikiran loe jika loe ada di situasi tertentu, bahkan ketika loe gak pernah ngomongin/ngalamin situasi tersebut sebelumnya. Dia gak pernah berhenti mendengarkan dan belajar ttg kepribadian loe, memperkaya diri dengan kompleksitas pribadi loe, sembari membandingkannya dengan kompleksitas karakternya sendiri. Dia tahu apa yang cocok bagi loe dan apa yang tidak. Dia tahu apa yang akan membuat loe kehilangan jati diri dan apa yang akan membuat loe semakin menemukan jati diri loe. Dia mengetahui dan mengerti idealisme loe, menghargai meski mungkin berbeda dengan idealismenya. Dia mengenal loe lebih baik dari yang loe kira, dan bahkan mungkin lebih baik dari loe sendiri karena dia tidak bias. Dia memberitahu loe apa yang perlu loe dengar, enak ataupun gak enak, karena tetap lebih baik loe mendengarnya dari dia daripada dari orang lain. Dia memberi loe kebebasan untuk menjadi diri loe sendiri. Dia memberi loe kesempatan untuk berkembang bersama, mengenal hidup lebih dalam bersama, belajar bersama, berpikir bersama, menganalisa bersama, menemukan arti hidup bersama, mendalami misteri alam bersama. Dia membuat loe menjadi orang yang lebih baik, gak peduli loe mau mengakuinya atau tidak, karena hanya dengan mendengarkan dan mengerti loe, dia UDAH membuat loe menjadi orang yang lebih baik.

So, mungkin loe mengklaim kalau loe udah menemukan sahabat loe, tapi lebih baik kita berpikir kembali. Sudahkah? Teman berbeda dengan teman dekat. Teman dekat berbeda dengan teman baik. Teman baik berbeda dengan sahabat.

Teman adalah orang yang loe kenal atau mungkin pernah ngobrol/makan siang bersama sekali dua kali, atau nebeng pulang tiap hari.

Teman dekat adalah teman yang duduk di samping loe di kelas, minjem penghapus loe dan loe pinjemin tip-ex. Teman dekat adalah orang yang loe ajak ngegosip tentang dosen dan motif dasinya yang aneh.

Teman baik adalah teman yang pergi dengan loe tiap weekend. Teman yang menghabiskan banyak momen bareng loe, seperti Natal atau ulang tahun. Teman yang hafal nomer handphone loe, pernah curhat-curhatan sampe nangis, kenal orangtua loe, ada di speed dial loe dan orang yang ngasih loe surprise jam 12 pas ulang tahun loe.

Tapi sahabat, dia bisa mencakup yang di atas semua, dia bisa juga tidak mencakup apapun yang di atas. Dia gak perlu jadi orang yang pergi sama loe tiap hari, orang yang loe telpon tiap kali ada masalah, orang yang ngobrol sama loe di telpon tiap hari. Dia gak perlu jadi orang yang tahu segala detail kehidupan loe. Dia cukup mengenal loe dan dia mengalahkan semua definisi jenis teman di atas.

She is your person. You tell her things not because you want to get her approval. But telling her makes it real. If you murdered someone, she’s the person you’d call to help you drag the corpse across the living room floor.

Satu lagi perbedaan teman dan sahabat. Loe akan devastated dan depressed kalau kehilangan teman. Tapi saat loe kehilangan sahabat, loe tetap akan merasakan syukur dalam hati bahwa loe pernah diberi kesempatan ketemu dengan seorang yang bisa mengerti loe seperti itu. Loe bisa punya segudang teman baik tapi belum tentu mereka mengenal loe. Jadi mana yang loe pilih, orang yang mengenal loe atau ratusan teman baik tanpa satu pun yang mengenal loe yang sesungguhnya?

New thoughts:
Sahabat itu adalah orang yang bisa membuat lo berpikir, lo mau melakukan sesuatu UNTUK dia, bukannya malah berharap lo mendapat sesuatu DARI dia. Ketika lo uda nemuin orang yang rasanya lo selalu ingin memberikan yang terbaik (at least, baik) buat dia, maka mungkin lo dalam perjalanan untuk menjadi seorang sahabat. Dan gue selalu percaya, untuk mendapatkan seorang sahabat sejati, lo harus terlebih dahulu menjadi seorang sahabat. Jika lo tidak bersedia memberi, mungkin lo juga tidak akan diberi.

Apakah gue uda berhasil menjadi sahabat seseorang?

Sepertinya belum.

Apakah gue uda menemukan seorang sahabat?

Gue belum bisa bilang itu, but I think I’ve found my person.

{ random prose }

2009-04-19T01:53:00.001+07:00

The transluscent light reveals the darkest secret of the night as she traced the path in silence. She witnessed the shadows dancing before her, laughing at her and leaning to her. The moon glares down at her as if it understood all she has in mind. She keeps swaying her legs, one step after another. The shallow feeling she has in her right now is reflected on her teary eyes. She sees the shadows of the trees before her, waving eagerly for her attention. Perhaps they understand what she has to say. Perhaps they feel what she feels. Well, at least, she has someone who understands. And she smiles back.

June 11th, 2006 at 2:17 am