If Only I Have the Courage to be with You

I watched two movies this week, one is A Good Year and another one is Shadows in the Sun.

A Good Year is played by Russel Crowe, a cold cruel smart banker (just don’t replace the b part in banker with a w) in London, however I think Mr. Crowe is more like a dummy instead of a smart bastard (will you forgive my word, please). His uncle departs and leaves him his vineyard in France, so he goes to France and arranges to sell it. Then a woman comes and acclaims that she’s his uncle’s daughter (no…she doesn’t want that vineyard, she only wants to know her daddy). At that place too, Russel Crowe (since I cannot recall his role), meets a beautiful cold woman and he falls in love to her. This woman actually doesn’t want to get involve to any relationship, her husband hurts her badly, and makes her avoid men. For her, a night with Russel Crowe is just another one night stand without any future, so she will not be brokenhearted. Then miracle comes, Crowe writes a letter as if it is written by his uncle showing that he has a daughter, and it means Crowe gives the vineyard to his ‘cousin’ (she’s a woman, sure she finds it out later), even more, Crowe leaves London and moves to Provence to be with the woman he loves. Happy ending.

The other movie, Shadows in The Sun, is played by some actors I don’t know. It’s quiet funny for me, and I like the Catholic father in this movie. This movie is about an editor who is sent down to Italy from (again) London to persuade a great writer who is blocked and hiding from the world. This great writer stops writing after his wife passed away and he scares to write. He just scares of failures. After some troubles, the editor can get along with the writer and awakes the writer to start writing again. Where is the romance part? Sure…it’s about the editor and the writer’s daughter. The writer’s daughter wants to have a wonderful memory with that editor, so she sleeps with him once. She thinks it will be fine, she knows that the editor one day has to return to London. Indeed, he returns to London. On a train, the editor meets an old woman with a bird, she asks him to fly when they see the writer’s daughter catches him up mounts on a stallion, followed by another stallion. Then the editor pulls emergency break (so…unreal, don’t do this, you will be fined in real world), departs from train and jumps on stallion. They kiss and live happily ever after.

The same thing here is that both men leave their “lives” (London in this case), works, and so on, and move to another place to be with someone they love. I just can’t understand it. In real world, how many percentages of men (and women...and something in between) are willing to do this? Leave their works, houses, lives, friends, comfort zones to be with someone is absolutely not a small decision. I don’t know what I would do if I were in this position. Will I leave my comfort zone? Will I leave my nest, work, life, friend, family behind to be with someone? Is he that worthy? What if he will hurt me? What if he doesn’t want it? What if he doesn’t love me as much as I do? What if I will get bored? What if I don’t get a good job there? What will I do then? I may not dare to leave my comfort zone, the way I don’t dare to ask him to sacrifice his life. Maybe I just simply am a selfish girl, or maybe it just shows how cowardice I am.

Maybe I have to many “what ifs” in my mind. Or maybe romance is only on movie, not in real life.

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus….and We Live on Earth

How to show your affection? That is my question to my friend this morning. I told her that sometimes I am confused. Does he care about me? If yes, then why he misses me only when he’s free. Why he doesn’t text me abundantly. Why he doesn’t ring me as often as before. Does he not care about me? If yes, then why he remembers me everywhere he goes. What about those t shirts and shawl? What about some other small things he does to me, makes sure that I go to gym for instance.

My friend told me that men and women have different ways to express feelings. Most men are less romantic, they are romantic when they approach women. When they get what they want, gradually they become less and lesser romantic. “I care about you, you care about me, then that’s it”. No thousands emails telling their women how deep the feeling is.

Well maybe it’s true that men are from Mars, and women are from Venus. But, hey…we live on Earth now…lets communicate in earthly language. I understand you are busy, and I don’t demand you to reply my sms every single moment. The way I wish you understand when I miss you and want to express it. Just because a man doesn’t reply every sms you send, doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. Moreover it’s too much if every single moment we keep sending sms…

Pekerjaan Paling Bahaya

Waktu aku kecil dulu nenekku suka cerita tentang kakeknya dia yang perang melawan Belanda, naik kuda dan mati dalam perang. Gagah berani, tapi kalah.

Lalu waktu SD aku dicekoki cerita tentang kegagahan pahlawan Indonesia perang melawan Belanda, Jepang, Sekutu (ok...tambah Portugis, Spanyol, Perancis dan Inggris sebentar)...aku pikir hebat sekali para pahlawan itu. Mereka berani mati untuk memperjuangkan tanah air.

Dulu kalau lihat tentara, apalagi yang mau perang, wah...kayanya berani mati sekali mereka. Hebat...(jangan ditanya kalau sekarang ya...)

Tapi kupikir-pikir, saat ini pekerjaan yang paling berbahaya adalah penyembelih ayam. Pekerjaan yang tadinya dianggap remeh temeh, eh di suatu masa dan di suatu tempat menjadi sangat berbahaya, karena ada pandemik flu burung. Bayangkan kalau tidak ada lagi tukang sembelih ayam, wah bisa-bisa kita nggak akan bisa makan sate ayam, KFC dan ganknya akan kukut.

Berarti pahlawan juga ya tukang sembelih ayam itu.

I Miss You Too, When I Am Not Occupied

Time to time I miss you
There are times when I miss you a bit
There are times when I miss you more
There are times when I miss you badly
But time to time I miss you

Time to time I long for you
Time to time I wish you are here with me
And time to time I know you are standing beside me
Yes, but it's only when you are free

Time to time I miss you, when I am not occupied

Me as An Extremist

One day my sister and I were invited to attend a family gathering to recite the Quran, my sister and I wore headscarves. On our way back home, we went to a shop and bought some stuff. Before us there were a couple of foreigners who stared at us disgusted, they talked to each other about us. “They must be extremists…yes…extremists…bla bla bla bla”,

Unfortunately these foreigners didn’t know that these two extremists understood well what they were talking about, they didn’t even bother to lower their voices when they were gossiping about us. My sister, the nice sweet polite girl in the family just grinned and stared at them politely. But not the bigger little rascal one, I stared at them, smiled and spoke clearly but cheerily,” Hell yeah we’re extremists so you should beware of us. Now get out off my face. Next time, be sure that your gossiping target doesn’t understand what you say.” My sister burst her laughter when she saw me dropped their jaws. Oops…..honestly I laughed out loud too watching how surprised they were.

Damned prejudice, so what if I want to wear headscarf? So what if I want to wear tank top? God, I wish those two foreigners by chance found my blog and read this one.

Lesson learned:

1. Prejudice does nothing good, but makes us shallow.
2. When we are not in our ‘place’ seek information about the culture before we blab out and produce nothing but shits.
3. Make sure when you are gossiping nastily about someone and it’s nothing to do with her/his personal capacity and merely based on your prejudice, s/he doesn’t understand what you say.
4. I should have behaved more appropriately instead of being impulsive ^_^
   

Isn’t simple life the best one?

Sure what is considered as simple is different from one to another. I had a ‘simple’ home cooking dinner, chicken, broccoli and mashed potato, plus white wine, chocolate, coffee, tea, ice cream and cocktails. However, both my friend and I agreed that it was a simple one and delightful. Sure for some other people would agree that it’s a simple one, but for some others would say it’s not that simple. There are millions people starving on earth, and they wander around with their massive bellies and extremely skinny figures (do you think anorexics would be jealous with them?), while my friend and I enjoyed our fine dinner.

I was toying with an idea about simple life. An office girl in office says that I am modest (read: I don’t wear jewelleries), so I considerably have a simple life (again the standard of simplicity is relative). Sometimes I think simple people are happier and richer than the rich. Look at my housekeeper for instance, he just got married, his wife is expecting a baby and they enjoy their lives. I bet he never thinks about how bloody silly the fiscal tax in Indonesia is when one wants to go abroad. He doesn’t have to think about bloody expensive phone bill I have every single month. The most important is he doesn’t bother with credit card bills.

On the contrary, even within this January, I have met 3 persons who got into trouble because of credit card using. They are suffocated to death (ok…exaggerating) because of the bills. These persons are well educated and have good jobs (one is even a very fine job). I don’t see why a person could have more than 2 credit cards, it’s useless. One out of these 3 persons, who has an OK job, even has 4 or 5 cards, and each card has given him credit limit about 8 times his monthly earning. Holy cow….isn’t it amazing, with 4 credit cards he could have credit limit around 32 times higher than his monthly earning. No wonder we tend to be pampered and reckless spending our money. It would take almost 3 years for him to pay it back to the bank. Worse, he becomes frustrated and annoys others, he needs some financial support to pay his bills. Hey…you’re the one who spends your money (or credit?) unwisely, I don’t even know what you have bought with it. Why should I lend you some money? No…no…no…I am not that nasty….I have learned to say something nasty with smile and makes it softer (well…haven’t done it well yet so far).

The question is simple…is it really effective, efficient and useful helping this kind of person? Or is it just makes it worse since then we (or I?) create faux security? If, one helps these persons to pay their bills this month, do you think they can handle it next month? Or they simply will ask you for more assistance? Then for how long one can pay others’ bills? It might end up like what I have faced yesterday, someone asked me to clear off his bills then he would pay me back little by little (sure without interest, it’s prohibited in Islam and I’m not interested either). Or like what I have faced today, another person out of these 3, asked me if I cannot assist him this month…what about on February? What about on March? Yes…and what about on April, May, June, July, and so and so. Indeed, they keep on shopping.

Cash for Work

I personally think that cash for work programme is crap. Cash for work programme is a generous and honourable programme actually, just not well designed. It is a programme where villagers/the poor/survivors/IDPs (Internally displaced person) are organized to work for their own good and being paid.

In Aceh after the tsunami there were many organizations ran this programme. These organizations from no where came to Aceh for some respectable reasons (I don’t even mention about some honourable persons who actually try to make money by working at that area) to help tsunami survivors. They saw how badly the disaster struck the place and how the people lost their belongings. So they asked the survivors to clear off the road and houses (their own houses), rebuild bridges and other similar things, and they paid these survivors. Sure it was fine, since it became an income source for the survivors, but then, the survivors became less responsible to their environment. Before the tsunami and cash for work was known in Aceh, the Acehnese helped each others. So when one’s roof is leaking, others will help to fix it up for nothing in return. They built bridges and other infrastructures collectively, but then they simply don’t do this anymore. They do something when they are paid. Sure not all survivors, some who were aware of this social change raised an issue for abolishing this programme.

The second weakness of cash for work programme is that these humanitarian organizations that came from no where to another no where place didn’t assess the local standard. They paid survivors about twice than the local standard. Sure, one can say that it is a good one, they can have a better life with that income. But is it true? Then local business got trouble with this new fee standard, local entrepreneurs cannot afford the new standard anymore, simply because it’s rocketing. Then in a sudden consumerism mushrooms, some survivors (especially they who join international humanitarian organizations) in a sudden earn more than they did before, they started buying jewelleries, motorcycles, TV, fridges, even when there wasn’t electricity supply yet. Yet, that post disaster area has the highest inflation rate in Indonesia, everything becomes bloody expensive there.

(I argued my opinion on cash for work programme with a bloke who works for a donor agency that acts as ATM without bank)

Just because I disagree and criticize cash for work programme doesn’t mean I would be automatically aware of what I do. I can be pretty idiot and do exactly the same what these humanitarian organizations have done, sure in a much smaller scale. I have a housekeeper whom I often ask his helps doing many things. One day I asked him to collect some documents and send them to someone. I gave him 100.000 ($11) when he came to me and got the instruction before leaving, he thought that money should be given to the one whom he had to hand the documents over. After he did what I asked, he returned to me blankly because the man he gave the documents for didn’t mention anything about the money and left him right away after he got the documents. He asked me what that money was for. He looked at me blankly when I told him that it’s his fee for delivering the documents. Since I was busy I thanked and asked him to leave, he was still confused when he left me.

I just laughed (indeed I wasn’t fully aware what I could buy with that amount of money here in Jakarta, I was a new comer on that time, all I knew is that a glass of cocktail at the Dharmawangsa Hotel costs that much…yeah yeah bloody expensive one), I realized that I did the similar mistake, I used my standard, not his standard. After been working with grass roots for years, I found that giving much money in short period can be pretty bad for the communities. What we think as a good deed, can harm the social institution within the communities.

So… I better learn how to keep my mouth shut, think before I speak and act. For now, I would simply enjoy laughing at my foolishness.

Are You a Feminist?

“Are you a feminist? I didn’t know that.”

“You weren’t aware before it?”

“When I saw you at the first time, you looked like a feminist, no doubt about it. But you don’t look like a feminist now.” (feminist in a dress for sure is different to a man in skirt…that’s how I mock previous “Queen” of Indonesia)

(How do feminists look???????)

“Evie are you an activist?”

“What is an activist? Who doesn’t do any activities?”

“No…an activist is someone who challenges the situation, tries to change policies.”

“Oh…no then, I am more into grass root things. Let politicians do whatever they want to do, they’re useless. So I am not an activist.”

(Honestly I don’t consider my self as an activist, firstly because at the moment I don’t work closely with the grass root, secondly because I haven’t done any thing yet, and the most important is I don’t even know what an activist is)

“You let the water running. It’s water shortage in the world now.”

“Not during rainy season…..Are you an environmentalist too?”

(Not sure with this, just because I become a member of GreenPeace doesn’t mean I automatically am an environmentalist. I don’t have any idea what environmentalists do, but some stay on trees to keep those trees to be cut off, and for sure I haven’t done this yet)

“Are you political?”

“Who isn’t? Every thing we do is political.”

“Hell yes, you are an activist but I didn’t know that you are this political.”

“Every single thing we do is political.”

“Even in personal life?”

“What about that running water and water shortage?”

(It’s pointless to persuade me that personal is not political)

“You make it worse, a feminist, activist, political and environmentalist.”

“I know, so you better say ‘Get out off here you Bitch!’”

“Yes I should open my window wide so I can throw you away anytime to the pool.”

(That’s what I call a fine dinner with excellent sense of humour)

Sex Workers and Psychologists

What do sex workers and psychologists have in common? A lot. They both work to release tensions, well for sure sex workers do better than psychologists. Clients come to them with urge need, and both sex workers and psychologists become trash bins.

Then both make money from this sort of tension release activities.

Both smile and try hard to understand their clients. They listen, see and observe before showing their skills.

The difference is that psychologists have privilege to label their clients as deluded, frustrated and other negative labels, but not sex workers.

Just beware, the most important similarity between these two professionals is they will charge you when the time is over.

Political Correctness

To be a feminist means that one should be aware of political correctness, at least for me myself. So I don’t say lady, but woman. I don’t call blind but eyesight challenged. I finish all meals on the table and don’t waste, because there are people who are starving. What a respectable person I am.

One day, I met a difable (from different ability, not disable) colleague who had been advocating friendly environment for this group. He’s eyesight challenged and extremely funny person. He told me,”Oh come on why you make it complicated. I am blind, just say that I’m blind. It’s shorter, better known, more understandable and easier.”

My friend who works as a sex worker says,” I am a prostitute, just say it. It’s ok. When you say sex worker it’s odd. What’s so different, what we do is just the same.”

There goes my political correctness.

Childhood Dreams

I want to be a mother when I grow up one day. I want to be a mother because mummies can tell their kids what to do. My mum asks me to sleep when I want to watch TV, she asks me to wake up when I am still sleepy. Mummy cooks what she wants and asks me to eat whatever she cooks for us, no matter how much I hate those foods. Mummy asks me to study when I want to play with my friend. See, mummy is like a God, and she’s always right because she’s a mummy.

I want to be a parking attendant when I grow up one day. Parking attendants are cool. They don’t have to go to school every single day, my teacher told me so. He said that if we don’t go to school then we would become parking attendants one day. Those parking attendants must be lucky, they don’t have to wake up early and count how many apples Ani has today. Who cares how many apples Ani has today? She doesn’t share those apples with me. Moreover, parking attendants make money, even more than my dad. My dad only gets money once a month, but parking attendants get money every time. They just tell drivers how to park their vehicles and get money. I know they do make lots of money, more than my coins in my piggybank.

I decided to be a vet when I grow up. I love animals. My pets are my siblings, they are nicer than my sister. They never tease me like my sister does. I just don’t understand why those adults got crazy with our neighbour’s new baby born. It doesn’t play, and all it does is crying, peeing and pooing. Those adults must be crazy, what so fun about it? It’s furless unlike my kittens and puppies. It doesn’t walk while my kittens and puppies wander around the house. No doubt, baby pets are cuter than baby human, so I will be a vet.

Thanks mum for retelling me my childhood dream careers.

Contra Utopia

Oxford dictionary explains utopia as an imaginary place or state in which everything is perfect. Thanks God, life in imperfect. When all is perfect then it would be soooo boring. No conflict anymore.

When all is happy and grateful to life, then mental health persons would be in trouble. What would happen to us when no one in the world is deluded anymore? What would happen if there is no single broken hearted person anymore? Oh please…don’t let it happen. Please be anxious, frustrated, depressed and deluded.

90 hours a week

One evening I sat at our backyard with my mum. I asked her to recall every single school and private lesson classes I had had in my whole life. Mum started digging up her memories. “You were almost 3 on the first time you went to school formally. Then you had this…that…this…that….”

I giggled looking at her recalling those classes, maybe she just realized how bloody costly raised me up. Raising me up is even more expensive than my elder sister. My sister said no when our parents offered her this and that. She wanted to have more free time and hung out with her peers. What I got now? I have bunch of documents and memories how I struggled when I was a kid.

I woke up at 5.30 and got ready to school. I left home around 6.30 at the latest. I was at school 7-2, continued by some extracurricular activities at school, got ready for my traditional dancing lesson, then departed for my private class. All activities had done at 9 to 9.30, and got home around 10. I went to school alone, got back home alone, and I hadn’t got my menarche yet at that moment.

Holly crap what have I done?

Endless Journey

One evening I was with an Adam. We talked about what we wanted in the future. I told him that I’d like to pursue higher education (I was working on my second grad on that moment). He told me that he wasn’t into academia world and all those theories (no no don’t get it wrong, he held his Master already and he’s one of the brightest person I’ve met in my life). He told me that he’s more into practical world. I told him that I loved school, that’s all. So it’s not really about those pieces of paper called diplomas. He listened to me and after a while he told me that he might want to return to school and get settled.

Few months after that evening, I was chatting with a professor friend of mine. He’s a nice bloke and loves school. He got his PhD when he was my age. I asked him how many years he had spent at school, and he said it’s about 27 years. I was 27 on that day, and I started counting how many years I had spent at school. Boom…I had spent 23.5 years in my life sitting at school (even though I cannot say I sat quietly). Then my friend and I looked at each other and realized how hilarious it was. We spent almost of our lives at school. We entered one school after another like crazy, as if there’s nothing else to do. I shouted at him,”And what we’ve got?” I asked him. My friend burst his laughter,”Well I got some pieces of paper that I don’t keep well.” replied him. Indeed I would get into trouble if I need to submit my documents, since I cannot recall where I keep them.

How It is to be Loved

I walked into my flat a bit upset. I was tired, sleepless and felt manipulated by someone, worse I got lost on the way back home. I said hi to my flat keeper and flatmate, all I wanted to do is lying down in my bed and sleep.

I switched on AC and CD, then prepared my simple dinner and dug out yoghurt in grocery bag. I sat on the floor and folded my laundry. In a sudden I realized there was something in my flat. I saw a big package and I wondered who sent it to me.

I reached that package and looked at it clearly, when I saw my name on it I knew who sent it to me. It was my bestfriend, a looooong time bestfriend. We went to the same primary school long time ago. Well I know her handwriting well for sure. Then I looked at the sender’s name and address, yes, it was her.

I unwrapped that package with excitement. Oh my goodness, she sent me a box of instant noodle that only available in our hometown. She knows that I feel homesick sometime and miss the food, no wonder few days ago when I sent her an sms telling her that I missed her she told me that it wouldn’t be homesick soon. I was trembling with gratitude when I saw it.

Some of you might think that it’s silly sending a full box of instant noodle (contains 40 packages…she said on the phone that I could have it for a month ^_^), even sillier that I got overexcited with a box of instant noodle. In contrary I don’t look at it that way. I see how much she cares about me, her friend in the middle of nowhere, far away from her, and she needs nothing in return.

My friend’s from a well off family in our hometown, both she and her husband have fine jobs, so she doesn’t need money from me. She doesn’t need me to find her a job either. She doesn’t need anything from me. Yet, she cares about me. What is it but love? It’s unconditional love.

I rang and thanked her. She laughed when I told her that she surprised me. It’s not about how expensive the present is, but the effort to send it. She wrote down the addresses by herself, she did it to me, for nothing in return. I told her that she made me felt love. Yes, I know that I am loved, unconditionally.

Thank Lord for sending her to me.

Lha Dhalah Jebulnya Cen Kurang Sak Jemuah Tenan

Suatu malam saat aku jaga malam…la namanya juga jaga malam ya pasti malam tha la ya…ada seseorang menelpon. Dia bilang dia lupa namanya konselornya siapa dan dia mau bicara dengan siapa aja, nggak penting buat dia ngulang crita dari awal lagi. Aku yo ho ah ho oh wae. Nah njuk si ibu itu cerita kalo dia sering digosipin sama orang di sekitarnya…dibilang ini lah…itu lah. Nah sebagai psikolog yang baru lulus, ceritanya mau mbanyol…mau bilang kalo cuma orang gila yang ribut sama orang gila. Lalu dengan gaya sok dewasa aku bilang ditelpon
"Ibu….waktu saya di rumah sakit jiwa…." Mak bendunduk si ibu motong omonganku….
"Mbak Evie juga dulu di rumah sakit jiwa? Rumah sakit jiwa mana? Saya di rumah sakit jiwa Rumah Oki." Si ibu dengan bahagianya cerita….walah….ya konselornya yang malah bingung arep ngomong opo….lha dalah disangka temen satu rumah sakit tiba'e. Apes….

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Di saat yang lain….kalo kali ini jaga siang pas harpitnas aka hari kejepit nasional. Pas sabtu, jumate prei…lah aku ketiban sampur jogo setu. Mak bendunduk lagi ada referral dari DinSos ada korban kekerasan terhadap perempuan yang orangnya udah depresi berat. Diajak ngomong nggak mau dan hanya dia seribu bahasa.

Sebagai psikolog (yang lagi-lagi baru keluar RSJ) ceritanya praktek ilmu…ehhh lha kok tenin…mbake mau ngobrol sama mbak psikolog yang cantik (iki jarene dhe'e lo…aku yo ra nolak tho ya…). Instinkku pun berjalan iki mesti kurang sak jemuah…njuk aku ngubungin psikiater langganan yang bisa on call (hallo….halloo kalo ada yg butuh psikiater baik yang on call bisa hubungi saya). Ceritanya bikin janjian supaya si ibu psikiater yang baik hati bisa ketemu sama calon pasien barunya. Lha…baru ditinggal sak nyuk kok mbake udah nongkrong di teralis sambil ketawa ketiwi dan si mamak kepala rumah tangga kantor misuh-misuh…

"Mbak Evie….anakmu ki looooo….ngompol di karpet….ngangkatnya kan susah."
Yeee….mene ke tehe…emang ike yang ngompol?

Sesuai kesepakatan dengan ibu peri eh ibu psikiater, kami datang ke ruang prakteknya…tapi dia waktu itu lagi praktek non psikiatri deh kayanya…ya sutra deh. Nah si ibu peri yang rambutnya mulai memutih bilang…"Waaa kalau ini sudah delusi Mbak Evie…"

Wah…tempat penampungan kami nggak didesain untuk yang deluded je…terpaksalah kami kembalikan ke DinSos dengan alasan mereka bisa memasukkan si mbake tadi ke RSJ dengan Jaring Pengaman Sosial.

Pas di jalan di mobil aku duduk di belakang di sebelah dia…mbake nangis…njuk aku bilang sama bapak rumah tangga kami yang keren abis gitu deh…."Pak setel dangdut pak….yuk njoget yuk…" jadi deh orang 2 ngibing…nggak jelas sopo sing edan sing penting mbake nggak ngotot mau loncat keluar mobil…misi sukses membawa mbake kembali ke DinSos, dan bapak rumah tangga mendapat bonus…kecupan di pipinya dari si mbake…hehehehe bar iku wedi pak'e

****

Aku jalan sama Bang Ir nonton di bioskop Mataram deket rumah. Pas jalan pulang ada konco satu sekolah beda jurusan, dia jurusan pasien aku pura2 jurusan magang. Bang Ir walaupun dia juga ada embel-embel S.Psi di belakang namanya takut 1/3 hidup, pucet dia. Dan yang sini baru keluar dari RSJ juga gitu loh…serasa reuni deh…ngobrol sana sini…dia ngomong apa aku ngomong apa yo nggak jelas.

Forgiveness

I cried when you left me. I cried when she treated me badly. I was angry when she took you out of my life. I was crazy when she distorted my life. I was disappointed when you betrayed me. Once I thought I would spend the rest of my life to be with you, and you wrecked my dream. You took and threw it away. How could you? Couldn’t you see that I was longing for you? How could you let her treat me like that? Where were you when she swore at me?

Time goes by. I found that anger is useless. Get angry but not sin. I paid all my debts to you and her in my previous life, and I thank God and you both for giving me chance to pay it off. I love you two with all my heart. I forgave for what you have done to me, and hope you forgive what I have done.

Now I am free. No, I will not seek you in my next life. I set you free. The way I beg for forgiveness for all in my previous and present lives.

A Sinner

I am awake when I dream, I dream when awake. I am lost in nowhere but my reality. I use my standard ever since I think I am smart and wise. I disgrace they who are ugly, less fortunate, fool and awkward.

I judge they who think in a different way and have different opinion as stubborn and dumb. I do not let others to have their opinion. They simply are less brilliance as I am, who could they be better than me? They do not know what the Lord has spoken to people. They ignore the heavenly laws, therefore they are sinners. They are allowed to judge. I am a guardian of Heavenly laws. I am a blessed person so I have privilege to show the sinners how disgrace they are. I am allowed to punish and label, the way I am allowed to tell others what to do and how to think. It’s simply because I am a devoted believer of Heavenly laws.

Sigh…and I cry deep down…how many of us think this way? I look at the mirror and see a sinner. I cry for what I have done. I cry for how I disgrace and judge others. I am a sinner. I never meet the Heavenly Ruler, how could I acclaim that I am Her guardian of laws? And I cry for the tears dropped because of me.

When Insanity Seems Sane

I saw a vivid image when I walked into that room, a room where I met some other young persons like me for the very first time. I knew I was there before. I knew I have experienced this before, but where and when? I didn’t know. It was vivid yet so vague.
I rode my bike across the street. I parked and locked it up, then I walked to my campus. I saw people, flowers and trees. I inhaled deeply and started walking, toyed with an idea whether or not it was real. Am I real? Are those things real? Or is it only in my mind?

I saw a man’s photograph. In a sudden I knew I would get close to him, I didn’t know why, it’s just the way it was. We got closer and closer until one day it was time to say goodbye. It was amazing to be with him, just like a dream. Or it might be only a dream. I don’t know.

I asked my consciousness and sought an answer why we had to say goodbye. But how could we say goodbye when we never say hi? He was mine, I was his, we were bounded yet we were boundless. There was love between us, yet there was nothing between us.

I Love You Time to Time

Dear my loved one,

I await you here with all the love I have. I don’t know where you are, I don’t know who you are, I don’t know what you are. But I know we have been together time to time, ever since our first life long time ago. There had been problems between us in our previous lives, so we cannot meet yet in this present life. You have to heal yourself, the way I have to. But my soul is faithful to you.

I love you in 10000 years, I did, do and will love you, time to time. I never leave you behind, and keep waiting for you. I know there will be time to be together, either in this life, or next lives. We’ll be together once more time when the universe shows her way to us, when we both are ready to be together, when there is no fears and hatred between us. Come to me in my dream when it is time for us to be together. Take my hand and stay with me.

(Inspired by a friend who believes in love, God, and incarnations, it’s a great pleasure to know you big sis)

In the World of Nothingness

I walk away leaving you. I do not want you to see me crying. I don’t cry, I don’t even bite my lower lip to stop my tears. No I don’t. My heart is broken, but I am happy. I am free as a bird, fly high up above. Nothing scares me anymore. Pain is meaningless yet enjoyable. Knowing that I suffer pain reminds me that suffering is part of human’s lives. My body is my prison. My anger, jealousy and hatred inhibit my unity with the Higher Force in this universe. There is no pain either happiness, all is equally meaningless and meaningful at the same time. All is relative, nothing is absolute anymore but the Ultimate one whom I kneel on to.

It is time for me to metamorphose, I enjoy sorrow the way I enjoy happiness. Through the sorrow I know what happiness is. Through the loneliness I feel love. Through hunger I know what full is.

Some would see me depressed, some would see me free. Who is the right one? Does one really care?

Harmony

Harmony is when all lives in peace. All has foods on the table, clothes to eat and roof above heads. There’s no chaos anymore. All lives in peace. No one needs to challenge the current situation, all accepts the honourable social norms.

I saw a tribal life in Vanuatu show on Discovery Channel. They live in harmony, even when the men have better yam (women are not allowed to eat the first yam, it’s taboo for them. Yam and penis are alike for them, therefore it’s men’s privilege). Women get left over yams. Men go fishing and get big fishes, while women receive the smaller fishes that thrown by men. Sure women are not happy with that, but it’s taboo for them.

Some men want to have more than one wife, sure the women get upset. One woman chased after her husband with a stalk in her hand saying that she doesn’t allow her husband takes another woman. Still he continues his intention to get another wife. Another man says that he needs 3 wives, 1 to look after his children, 1 to stay at home and becomes a homemaker, and another one to gather food. I wonder what if he know once upon a time, a Chinese Emperor has thousands women around him.

But this tribe lives in harmony. Women do not question why they have left over yams and smaller fishes, why men are allowed to have more than 1 wife, but women only have 1 man. For sure men do not need to question their privilege. It’s taboo for this tribe to challenge the taboos, what if their ancestors do not bless them sufficient food in the future. It’s better to remain silent and take it for granted.

In Javanese culture, harmony is a significant aspect in social life. Long time ago, a leader (aka King) is seen as a son of God, therefore he cannot be wrong and questioned (I believe it is not only in Javanese culture, but also in other cultures, west, east, south and north). The wealthier a nation is, the more harmony a nation live in, the better leader they have.

In my country, once we have a ‘King’ too, he loves Javanese culture and is well known that he’s fond of Semar. Semar is kind of incarnation of Bathara Guru, he tries hard to be like Semar. He wants his folks live in harmony, his words are law, and we all have to obey this respectable man. If he kills a person, then it must be with reason, to maintain the harmony. No one may question what harmony, is who gets the advantages, is it for the sake of the people or mostly for people around him. Since I don’t have any evidences, I cannot name his name.

Ironically I admire my former “King” as a genius man who knows exactly how to brainwash 200M people in such a long time (you can lie to a person for ever, but you cannot lie to many people for a long time), who can cover up all he has done and makes all sins looked merits, who can leave no traces unlike Hitler, Nero and Polpot. But sorry sir, I am not your follower. I prefer to challenge the harmony.

Unbeauty Standard

The beauty standard and unbeauty standard are equally horrible. One day I had a discussion with a male friend. We talked about some social issues and I pointed out my feminist ideas clearly. He was surprised and saying,”You sounded like a feminist.”

I told my friend that I was a feminist. He dropped his jaw and said no way. He never met any feminist in skirt with rose lipstick, so how could he have thought there would be feminists in long cloth?

“I am a feminist so I can represent myself the way I am without any boundaries. I can wear trousers and skirts the way I want. Just because I am a feminist doesn’t mean I am not allowed to be pretty and applying lipstick on my lips. It’s just I don’t do it for you, men, but for me myself.” I smiled at my male friend who looked at me blankly.

Thanks, but I Don’t Need Those Whitening Products

One day I went out with my nice Thai friend. She took me to a Big C in Puthamonthon. It was my first time going to a supermarket in Thailand. I saw a nice booth, it was a Thai brand cosmetic booth. My friend took me there, she told me that they had nice products in that booth. Like a little girl I followed her.

In that booth I bought some cleansing milk and moisturizer, I haven’t become a loyal costumer of Clinique yet at that time. In a sudden my dear friend stared at me. She suggested me another product that she thought would be better for me. So I asked her what made that product better than my choice (indeed she knows all about cosmetic). My friend told me that my skin was too dark so I needed some whitening products for my skin. “Evie, your skin is too dark so it doesn’t look pretty.” she said.

“Ugh…yes. But I am Indonesian, sure I have brown skin. So?” I replied her in confusion. I didn’t know what she was talking about. I reminded her that I was an Indonesian (well still am for sure), so no matter what I would have dark skin. It’s brownie and so what’s the problem?

“But you can have fairer skin and you can be prettier.” my friend insisted. “We have the products, and you have opportunities to have lighter skin. You can try.”

“Well, the thing is I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I am Indonesian. I am Asian. No matter what I would have this brownie skin and I don’t see any problems with it. Moreover there is no way for me applying those products containing mercury on my skin.” I told her stubbornly.

My friend looked at me and got upset.

Even after more than 2 years I still don’t understand her point.

Few weeks after the above shopping, I wanted to have a pair of jeans. My friend (yes the same friend) looked at me. She told me that I was overweight.

“I think you are too big. You are overweight. You should have watched your diet.” my dear friend told me.

I looked at her blankly, indeed I was 10 kilograms lighter than now. “Ugh…thank you, but I am fine with what I am.” I replied her (again) stubbornly.

“Evie, you don’t walk like a lady.” my friend warned me (yeah still the same friend). “You should walk like this.” Then my friend taught me how to walk like a lady. I have to admit she walked in a feminine way. “This is how you should sit. You wear skirt more often so you should sit like this.” Then again my dear friend showed me how to sit like a lady. “You laugh so loud like a horse. A woman doesn’t laugh like that.”

(Pssst but then…she copied my horse-like laughter ^_^)

Can’t a woman be the way she is? Do I have to follow all mainstream ideas on what beauty is? Can’t I be beauty if I do not fit to all these beauty standards? Well…I know that my skin is too dark for mainstream standards (especially when I am in Thailand where girls prefer to have lighter skintone). I am too big with big bums too, even an Adam calls me Bum sometime without relying that his bums are big too (again especially when I am in Thailand where girls are skinny). I know that I have messy wavy hair instead of straight hair. I don’t walk, sit and laugh the way women are expected…so unladylike. So????

Who creates this beauty standard? If I were in Papua then my value is low since I am too skinny and my hair is not curly. The Papuans prefer big girls with curly hair. Hell yeah, these chickadees will get many pigs as dowry. Poor me, I don’t fit in any beauty standard, perhaps I should deconstruct this beauty standard. I would say that pretty chicks are they who can laugh out loud and kick someone’s arse. That would be cool, no?

Why don’t we look at this beauty standard deeper? Ok…lighter skin tone for instance, who would get the advantages? Sure the producers. They produce the products and create the market to make money, big money to be precised. Skinny figure, who would get the advantages? Sure (again) it’s the producers. In this patriarchal society we have certain beauty image, skinny, big boobs, long straight hair, fair skin and so on and so on. How many women take risks to get bigger boobs by having plastic surgery? How many women have eating disorders (sorry can’t say eating problems here even though I know it’s more politically correct) to get skinny figure? How many women get skin cancer because of the mercury that they have applied on their skin? Thanks to these capitalists.

Oh well, after living in Thailand for couple of years I know that there are two things that I want to have if I were rich and have lots of money. The first one is cosmetic manufacture and the second one is chilli farm. I would make lots of money from these two businesses.

Don’t be Afraid to be Hurt or You Would Never Move Forward

“He rings me every single day, sometimes more than three times a day. He tells me that he misses me and wants to see me.” she said to me with her big smile. Her eyes were bright like stars in the night sky. She inhaled quietly,”He’s a wonderful person. I owe him a lot, and he protects me as if I were his precious treasure. When he proposed me, I knew that I would spend the rest of my life with him, only with him. No other men.”

“He kisses my eyes to wake me up in the morning. He kisses my forehead and lips before he leaves home, then tells me to take care of the kids and myself. He reminds me that he will always be loyal to me. Sure, he does not always be faithful, but he places me on the top. He always prioritizes me. He always comes back to me no matter what he has done. He soothes my pain. He shows me that I can trust him no matter what. He’s my guardian angel, friend, lover and teacher at the same time. You know he’s 12 years older than me.” she continued her story.

“Often before he goes back home from office, he rings me telling that he will bring something special. He brings champagne, wine, honey, grapes, beer, or sweets and puts them on our bed, so we can have them before or after make love. Well…you’re grown already to know this. He always asks whether or not I have reached the peak. He wants to make me happy. He wipes me when I am sweating after making love. He whispers on my ears thanking me for a wonderful moment with me. He serves me drinks and sometimes he goes to kitchen and cook for me. You know he cooks well, don’t you pet? I love his cooking, even though it means I have lots stuff to clean up in the next morning. But I enjoy it. You know how messy it is when he leaves the kitchen, as if there has been a war,” she smiled.

“It happens until his last days. He tells me that he loves me, always. So no matter what others say, I know him better than them. I don’t want to remember his mistakes, I want to remember his love.” she continued her story.

“I think he knew he was about to die. He wants to make love with me. Sure I refused. I love him deeply, and I don’t want he has heart failure when I am riding him,” she said and we both laughed out loud.

“It would be horrible, and thank God it didn’t happen. I cannot imagine what to do if it happened.” I replied with my laughter.

Her eyes sparked brightly,”It’s always romantic to be with him. He kisses me passionately when I am angry with him, so I simply forget my anger and we make love. He treats me nicely since the first time we met until our last time to be together. That’s why I never think about finding someone else. I am happy with my man.”

I looked at her and asked,”Did you have any affairs?”. We have very close relationship, she knew that I wouldn’t judge no matter what her response is.

She simply smiled, “No. I never think I want it. I have him and it’s more than enough for me. He always tells me to preserve myself only for him. He reminds me that he trusts me without any doubts. Why should I challenge it? You haven’t met the one you want to live with yet, so you don’t know yet what it means to be trusted by someone you love.” she responded. “I never make love with anyone else. Only him. So for me, he’s the Adam in my life, the best one in my life, my world. He’s the best lover in the world. See, I have a point here. I don’t need to think about someone else when I make love with him, because he’s the ultimate lover for me. Poor you, no?” she teased me with her big grin.

“Well I don’t compare.” I responded her quickly and she stroked my head.

Her eyes stared at me,”When you were 8, he told me that you would have dark skin like his, and my smile. Apparently he’s right. He said that your sister has his face and my skin, so you should have his skin and my smile. You know I always be proud of you. Don’t be afraid to start a relationship with someone you care about. Marriage is a long journey. It’s a big commitment. Think about him and you as two identities who want to live together, not as one unity. Keep your identity, and let him does too. Respect each other, don’t see his wealth, ancestors and so on. Look at him as a person and follow your heart. Don’t be afraid to be hurt, or you would never move forward.”

“I love you ma…and I miss your man badly.” I sighed.
Deep down I thank God that I was born in this family.

The Man I Respect Most

There is only 1 man (beside my dad) I respect deeply in this life. There is only 1 man in this life I fancy, not because he’s extremely gorgeous. Nor because his wealth. I respect him for what he has done for his parents, especially his late father.

The person that I respect is a simple person, but smart for sure. He returned to his hometown when he found that his dad was sick. For two years stayed awake until late night to change dad’s diapers. He threw away his dad’s poo and wiped him. He prepared his dad’s milk at night. He was with his dad until his dad’s last day.

Sure this man ain’t an angel. He was tired. He was angry because he had to do all the things by himself. He had to work and took care of his parents, both mum and dad. He’s a human, like you and me, but managed his time, energy and emotion well. So no matter what happened he stood still to protect his parents.

With a parent like mine, how could I not respect him deeply? How could I not fancy a man who changed his dad’s diapers and prepared milk every single night? How could I not see him wonderful? I am nothing compared to him. I didn’t do much for my late dad.

Geek, I envy you. You did all your best to your father, and I didn’t. You are an angel inside. It’s an honour to know you in person.

I Would (Not) Die for You

Many of you have heard this I WOULD DIE FOR YOU. So, how many of you guys, believe that it shows how much one loves you? Well I don’t.

If, someone says that he would die for me, maybe I would stare at him blankly and leave him right away. How could he love me if he doesn’t love himself? If he dies for me, then will things become better? Well we don’t live in Harry Potter’s world for sure, where Harry’s mum, Lilly Potter, sacrificed her life to protect her only son. I, myself, wouldn’t die for someone I love, but struggle to survive.

My mum proofs her love to her daughters by her strength to survive. She had a fatal accident when she was young. She’s the first surviving brain surgery patient in Indonesia. The accident happened more than 3 decades ago. She was so weak and the prognosis was bad. She lost one hearing and an eyesight. She lost her memories and until now still has a platinum pen in her head. The docs predicted that she would live only for 6 months.

My dad was with my mum day and night, he proposed her when she was hospitalized. Papa showed his love to her by taking care of her, he fed her. He bought her wig and shawls to cover my mum’s baldhead. He cheered her up and told her that sheremained pretty with her baldhead. Mama told me, that’s how she knew that she wanted to survive. She had someone who loved her the way she was.

Then my parent got my sister after lots miseries happened in my mum’s life. The docs said that pregnancy and delivering a baby would be bad for my mum, but mama insisted that she would be fine. The first time mama saw her new born baby, she knew she would be fine. She refused to die to raise her daughter no matter what would happen. That’s exactly what she did. No matter how many times she had to see her docs, she never complained. Worse, there wasn’t fancy CT scan like we have nowadays. Mama says that CT scan during that time was PITA aka pain in the a**. It hurt her badly. She took drugs and changed her diet to survive. Mama only consumed vegetables, and when her condition was weaken she only consumed raw vegetables and milk. Mama refused to die to raise her only daughter. Mama only had one dream, to see her daughter to be independent.

Four years later, when mama was much stronger, she gave birth to her second daughter, me. All was fine during her second pregnancy. Again, she kept telling herself that all would be fine. She proofed that the docs’ prediction was wrong, she’s alive.

Unfortunately 5 years later mama’s health was decreasing. She carried my little brother, sadly it was miscarried. Mama needed blood transfusion and was hospitalized for months. Papa, my sister and I went to hospital every single day to see her, I didn’t know that (again) her docs said that her prognosis was bad. I didn’t realize that I was about losing my mummy. But no, she survived. Why? Because she wanted to survive. She wanted to raise her daughters. That’s all, nothing else.

On 1992 I accompanied mama to see her doc in RSCM Jakarta, well for a small girl sure it was only additional days off. Her doc, Dr. Padmanagara was glad to see her. He didn’t expect that my mum would reach the unexpected health condition. I recall mum was smiling and pointing out at me, “She and her sister is the reason why I don’t want to die.”

Few months ago, when I travel to Ambon, I sat on Baguala Beach alone. I realized that I would be alone in the world with my mum next to me. I rang mum telling her how much I loved and appreciated what she had done to me. Mama, again, told me that she wouldn’t die until she’s sure that my sister and I would be fine to be left. I couldn’t say a word.

Mama shows me that her love is the reason why she lives and survives. Her love to her daughters keeps her strong and refuses to die. She doesn’t want to leave her daughters before sure that we would be fine. So why should I buy when someone says he would die for me? Don’t die for me, but live for me.

(for K who reminds me how beautiful love is)

Depressive Love Letter

I have fooled myself by keep memories of you lingering in my mind

You are an illusion, you are never real

Don’t wake me up and tell me that it’s not real

Let me dream in my eternal sleep, so I can be with you forever

Fly Fly Little Butterfly

Boots keponakanku umur 3 tahun minggu depan. Dia sekolah di dekat rumah, 3 hari dalam seminggu. Boots anak cerdas, cuma nakalnya kadang minta ampun. He simply does what he wants to do.

Suatu hari di sekolah gurunya Bu Eka minta Boots untuk berhitung dan dia mulai berhitung…one two three four five…and stopped. Dia menolak meneruskan dan ngotot hanya akan berhitung dengan 1 tangan. Bu Eka minta dia mengulanginya, sebetulnya si guru minta dia berhitung satu dua tiga dalam bahasa Indonesia, and not in English. Unfortunately when she asked him to redo it, he did it in English again. He said that his friends did the counting in Bahasa already, so it should be in English then. Salah siapa? Well…salahkan kami semua, orang tua, nenek dan tantenya yang ajarkan dia bahasa campur-campur. Dia pikir setelah berhitung dengan bahasa Indonesia lalu diteruskan in English like he does at home.

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Masalah belum berhenti di sini. Suatu hari saat aku antar Boots ke sekolah sama neneknya, ibu guru Boots, Bu Eka, menunjukkan gambar kupu-kupu. “Ini gambar apa?” tanya Bu Eka ke Boots. He proudly answered out loud,” It’s a butterfly.” dan bengong lah si ibu guru. “Bukan Boots, ini gambar kupu-kupu.” kata Bu Eka.

“Bukan Ibu, this is a butterfly.” my nephew insisted.

“Tapi ini kupu-kupu.” eh si ibu guru tetep keukeuh juga.

“De…it’s a butterfly kan?” he looked at me confused. “Dora, it’s butterfly…butterfly…???” he asked his granny who couldn’t stop smiling.

So I simply smiled at him and told him that he’s right,”Yes dear, it’s a butterfly, pet. You got it right.”

Tertawalah si nenek,”Boots, kupu-kupu sama butterfly itu sama. Butterfly when you are at home speak in English with Ade, kupu-kupu di sekolah kalau ditanya Bu Eka.”

Dan bingunglah si kecil.

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“Sekarang waktu menggambar.” ajak Bu Eka ke murid pre-school-nya. “Ini warna apa anak-anak?”

“Purple…and this is red…this is yellow…” (surely) my nephew replied her and got busy with his crayon.

Tinggal Neneknya yang kemudian bingung menjelaskan, ”Bahasa Indonesia Boots…ungu…merah…kuning….”

Inner Beauty

Does physical appearance matter? Is it that important? Can't we see and be seen beyond our physical appearance? Since I was small, my mum always tells that none of her daughter can lean on our physical beauty. Mama says that it won't last forever.

"None of my daughters is amazingly beautiful. So girls, you cannot make money and survive with your looks. Some girls might find wealthy men and marry them because of their beauty, but not you. Keep strong, study well and work hard. And, remember, a lady never takes any jewelleries but from her husband." mama says. Indeed I know that I cannot make money and survive with my look. I don't think I can be a model, indeed who wants to hire me as a model?
For years, I never bothered with my physical appearance. I never expected anyone would say,
"Eve, you're gorgeous." nor,"Eve, you're ugly." It's just nonsense.

Until one day on January 2000 when I dated a sweet bloke who was fancied by another girl. She's about 5 years older than me. She came to my place and told me how she was amazed why that bloke liked me more than her. "I am more beautiful and attractive than you are. I don't understand it." she said. I remained silence. Was I upset? Yes I was, but thank to my parent who raised me well and taught me how to respond shits like this one. I simply smiled.
My ex date's friend who knew this situation tried to cheer me up. He told me to be patient,"It's OK little sister. She's just jealous of you. But you also need to know that you have made a wrong decision. You should know that he (my date) likes pretty chicks, and you are not. People might say about inner beauty, but it's just a lie. It's only to cheer up ugly people like you."

I was shocked. I told my clicks about this, well they're gays. These lovely gays smiled at me. My transgender buddy said, "Hey girl, you're the only one who has boobs among us. Cheer up."
One gay friend took me to a mirror. He stood behind me and said," Now look at that mirror. Look at that reflection. How could you believe that stupid bullock? You may not be the most beautiful woman on earth, but you have your own beauty, heart and brain. We love you the way you are, pet."

Thank to my ex date's friend and lovely gay clicks, ever since that night I don't bother when someone says how unattractive I am. When someone compliments me, I say thanks. When someone says I am not pretty, I smile and thank too. I love myself and my life. My body is my temple. It's God's creation and I love it.

You, who are not happy with your physical appearance, believe me. There is inner beauty, just be true to your heart. Ignore some ignorant who cannot see how precious you are. Blessings.

How Brain Gym Can Help You to be Smarter

My friend Mb Ummi is an interesting person. One day, when we ran out of ideas on what we should do with primary school students, she came with a brilliant idea. It was brain gym. We didn’t have any idea what it was, then she showed us a tabloid with an article on it to us. We were happy and agree to do that. Especially she mentioned that brain gym could enhance cognitive capacity of children, whereas four of us mostly had slowlearner students. We were excited and hoping that our students could be better and their IQ would be higher.

Then we told Bu Hapti about what we would do. She said that it would be ok. She smiled vaguely. When the brain gym was done (geez…never ever again do that…shout in front of hundreds of children in primary school telling them what to do…no way) we reported to Bu Hapti. She asked us,” Do you think your slowlearner students will be better after the brain gym?”

These excited girls answered at the same time,” Yes, hopefully.” We explained her why we did the brain gym, our students’ condition, the purpose of brain gym, how we did it, etc etc etc.

“Do you really believe after you teach them how to do that they would redo it again? And do you really believe that after brain gym session they would be smarter and not slowlearners anymore?” she smiled vaguely.

Then the girls burst laughter….even until now, we keep talking about it. How could we think those kids would be smarter by what so call brain gym?

Ssshhh it was called brain gym, but with body movement. So you don’t need your brain to work on it.

My Deep Appreciation Goes to Swiss Red Cross

I was so scared when earthquakes hit Jogja on May 2006. I had lots friends and relatives there, and sure my previous little baby. All day I was busy tried to contact all I knew in Jogja and got nervous when I couldn’t contact some, including an extremely nice friend who took care of my little baby.

I was not only busy contacting people I knew in Jogja, but also replying sms and emails, answering phone from friends. They wanted to know whether or not all my family, relatives and friends were ok.

In the evening, I sent an email to my friends, telling them the situation in Jogja, what survivors needed (well they whom I could contact told me the needs of survivors) and how to deliver their donation, all my relatives and friends were fine, but I didn’t know about my little baby yet. I asked my friends’ prayers for her. Most friends, knew who she was and what she meant for me.

What I didn’t expect was, some friends forwarded my emails to some humanitarian organizations. One morning at office, I received an email from Swiss Red Cross. There were three points in their emails:

1. they were sorry for what happened in my hometown and hoping that all my family were fine

2. they informed me that they have sent their volunteers and aids to Jogja collaborated with Indonesian Red Cross (well…Red Cross is an excellent organization, and this Swiss one is just simply great)

3. their prayer for my little baby. They hoped she could survive and someone would take a good care of her.

I truly didn’t know what to do when I read that email. I was shocked. It touched me deeply. They didn’t know who I was, and sent me a personal email like that. At the same time, I couldn’t stop my laughter and wanted to tell them one minor detail. So I replied their email.

“Thank you for bla bla bla. It really touched me when you mentioned about my little baby, but I am sure she’s fine. After all she’s a big cat, and cats usually can survive. However she means a lot to me, thank you for your concern.”

No reply from them again. Well, I don’t know whether or not they have read that email. I wonder what they would say when they know baby is a cat.

Now I Can Tell How Silly I am

On 2005 I conducted my thesis research in Meulaboh, West Aceh. The tsunami struck Aceh and Nias on December 26, 2004. I lived in Meulaboh for about 4 months, it was almost nothing left in Meulaboh. Thousands of people killed, hundred thousands of people were displaced and infrastructures collapsed.
However thanks to my new family in Meulaboh, I had privilege to occupy a pink room. It's grand, it's more or less 1.75x2m2 with a great thin mattress and a wardrobe. Then I could also lock that room from outside, not from inside. But I really loved that tweety room, it's wonderful. I mean look, how many people in Meulaboh could occupy a room for him/herself after the tsunami? Sure sometimes I shared that room with some girls, not many, not with more than 6 people at the same time.
After living in this situation for 4 months, it was time for me to return to Bangkok. So the trip was Meulaboh to Medan by UN flight when it was still for free unlike now where we have to pay $100, then Medan to Jakarta and Jakarta to Bangkok. (Actually it would be closer if I go from Meulaboh to Banda Aceh or Medan then Bangkok, but no direct flight and for sure the Ford Foundation wouldn't let me fly by Air Asia.)
I was a bit close with a nice bloke who's also sarcastic…well sorry dude, but you are sarcastically hilarious. We decided to go to Medan and Bukit Lawang, it's a jungle near by Medan and it's awesome. Bukit Lawang is a great vacation destination.
So, there we were. We rent a car to Bukit Lawang. When we arrived at Bukit Lawang I saw how beautiful that jungle was.

"Isn't it beautiful? Look it's so peaceful here."
"Yes. Look at the river. In what Inn will we stay?"
"It's Jungle Inn. They said it's nice and simple. Without electricity too here. So no rubbish from outside, only with the nature. We can also see orang utan."
I frowned and took a deep breath.
"You must be insane."
"Huh…why?"
"How could you…take me…a girl who was born and grew up in Borneo, with a forest as her backyard, and orang utans as neighbours' pet, who just lived in Aceh for 4 months after the tsunami where almost nothing's left, to a jungle to see orang utans and no electricity at all. Dear, you must be crazy taking me here."
"Yes, and the crazier thing is, she agreed to come with me."
"Hell yes, I believe so."

My Nasty Sense of Humour

I know that I can be pretty nasty, not always, but pretty sarcastic. Sometimes it is hilarious and makes others laugh too, but often it kicks someone’s arse, especially they who don’t know me well.

“K told me that your nephew is sick. How is he?”

“Oh he’s fine now. He only needs to take drugs, some 3 or 4 pills everyday for about 6 months.”

“Oh yes, he must be very fine, that’s why he only needs to take some drugs for 6 months.”

Sure, the geek shouted at me,”Honey you really are sarcastic.”

Ooops….

****

K took me to a water park in KL. He told me that it’s located next to a shopping mall, so I could have a look before made up my mind.

Then there we were. From the shopping mall we observed the water park. It looked awesome. Something interested me. I asked K what it was.

“What’s that? What are they doing?”

“It seems it’s artificial seawave….look…look they are surfing now.”

We both looked at that artificial ocean from far away for a while. I saw some people surfed, they looked excited. I just smiled at K.

“I, a girl from the biggest archipelago country in the world, went abroad to

Malaysia, to see artificial sea wave instead of go to any islands in my country. I must be stupid or an idiot.”