The year was struggling. It was a June with steady raindrops. Mornings would be full of heat then rain would wash down the street bringing down people from the office district to their home. People would mock at the sky. That year was a tip of something, said my mom. People all over the country felt a big energy at their core. They knew they’re going to be big. At the same time, middle age austerity pulling out what’s left for them. Canonic fundamentalists were going wild like dogs biting down the last creature found in the forest. Like vampires grooming out the last human on earth (yes, that year was also a come back year for vampires after Stroker’s Dracula).
The year was the year when old generation remembered what they saw in their youth circa 70’s. Sephia movies starred with thighs, legs, cleavages. Oh yes, they remembered it clearly. The then women leading stars now all covered up. Old, balding, fat stomached men condoned what they saw in the past, while their faces were the epitome of sleaziness.
The year was in a heat. Skirts were getting shorter and God’s payback was stronger. When suicide bombers were crucified, and so were people whose sextape was leaked. The year was the year when people wanted to do the best at everything. The best in combatting terrorism, the best in letting the outlaws grow in the name of democracy, the best in being pious, the best in sentencing corruptors, the best in not being caught up for corruption.
The year was when pancake and crepes all wrapped up into a branded high-class delicacy. Mom used to make me those for breakfast. She is the best. But, I am glad that she is not good at everything. At least, she is not the best at “inspecting” my rooms.
My father, however, was the The Best. He worships God five times a day, he fasts all days in Ramadans, he is also the best at collecting nude pictures, the best at beating Mom when he’s mad, and the best at cheating from my Mom.
He is the best at everything. Just like that year.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
for(-give)
How do you forgive?
Is forgive equal to give? To give the person a second chance? To wish the person happiness? Is "forgive" = for (you to) give? Is forgiveness the purest form of giving? Because we expect nothing, even the value at our end is negative. Is forgiveness a humanity challenge? Is that a chance to show our deity human form that we can give although they hurt us?
How. do. you. forgive.
What would Jesus do? What would Oprah do? What would Zooey Deschanel do? What would Buddha do? What would you do?
If the easiest way to forgive is to forget, I want an amnesia right now.
Is forgive equal to give? To give the person a second chance? To wish the person happiness? Is "forgive" = for (you to) give? Is forgiveness the purest form of giving? Because we expect nothing, even the value at our end is negative. Is forgiveness a humanity challenge? Is that a chance to show our deity human form that we can give although they hurt us?
How. do. you. forgive.
What would Jesus do? What would Oprah do? What would Zooey Deschanel do? What would Buddha do? What would you do?
If the easiest way to forgive is to forget, I want an amnesia right now.
Monday, June 14, 2010
lunch convo
We talked about relationshiz. It means, your relationship when it looks like a shizzz. I asked my girl friend, “Have you ever had a crush on somebody else while you’re in exclusive relationship with your current bf?” She said, ”I’ve never had guts to start exploring my curiosity over some guys if I knew that wouldn’t end up well. And since I’m in a relationship now, I just know, those crushes won’t end well.”
-Pak Sapardi, kami tidak mau jadi Hujan Bulan Juni-
-Pak Sapardi, kami tidak mau jadi Hujan Bulan Juni-
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Saturday, June 05, 2010
just because
I stab you with another face everytime you talk
And your eyes become someone else’s
I pictured that sax man sharing his joints with me
Your mumbles are stripped with the environmentalist speech
Our silences are merriment with the joker
In my mind.
That is the farthest I can go
And your eyes become someone else’s
I pictured that sax man sharing his joints with me
Your mumbles are stripped with the environmentalist speech
Our silences are merriment with the joker
In my mind.
That is the farthest I can go
Monday, May 17, 2010
bir hakiem
Fast and crowded, the underground metro crept to an open air. From here a light-swamped metropolitan city life sat its sheet under an early sunset. I hiked from Line 4 Odeon and stopped at Bir Hakiem. Unlike three days ago in a row, Paris was all dry and sunny. As if it understood I would make my biggest pilgrimage that day.
Swooshing, I followed the herds exiting metro gate. There, first thing under my sight was Ares Hotel. Its marbled floor and huge white flower pots popped an automatic comparison with the hostel I stayed in. Full off all-over-the world bratz who sacrificed their breakfast with cereal, orange juice, and hard bread for the sake of midnight heavy make ups and mini skirt cross cultural mating session. In the name of Perseus, I almost swapped my card to stay in Ares just for one night.
But of course, I didn’t. I walked through concretes until carousel light bulbs were in front of my eyes. And in front of it, on Champs de Mars greenery, there stood the Eiffel tower. For French speaking mass around me, clad in thick winter outfit, walking on that pavement was just like another step on their boring city. Here, I instantly had Monas in my mind. And it was. All big, stern, ugly, and grey that tower was.
Not until horses in Carousel de la Tour Eiffel started to move and accordion tunes flowed with it. And lights emerged in each bones of the tower structure. Sky as its background, was orange and purple blended, like a summer night in winter. Tourists around me, mostly Spanish speaking, shared that moment with their spouses, partner, family, and acquaintances. While I hugged Vincent deeply. He was my friend’s bad ass Nikon. I was alone on Parisian street.
Going back from there, I rode from Bir Hakiem until Line 6 finished at its last stop at Charles de Gaulle Etoile and spent a while in Arc de Triomphe, although I could’ve just taken Line 6 straightly to Lumiere. I prolonged my way back to the hostel because I wanted to see this city with you in my mind. On that journey, I played Anda with the Joints and SORE. It was just perfect. And, what do you do on a particularly perfect moment? You tweet, of course. And this was my tweet:
“walked back from arc the triomphe with SORE and Anda in my iPod. the only thing missing was my guy.” 6:58 AM Feb 17th via TweetDeck
And then I wondered what did you do back then. Were you asleep or working. Did you also walk with me in your thought. Then I knew you were not. I was all alone on Parisian street, even in my mind.
Three days after 2010 Valentine's Day
Swooshing, I followed the herds exiting metro gate. There, first thing under my sight was Ares Hotel. Its marbled floor and huge white flower pots popped an automatic comparison with the hostel I stayed in. Full off all-over-the world bratz who sacrificed their breakfast with cereal, orange juice, and hard bread for the sake of midnight heavy make ups and mini skirt cross cultural mating session. In the name of Perseus, I almost swapped my card to stay in Ares just for one night.
But of course, I didn’t. I walked through concretes until carousel light bulbs were in front of my eyes. And in front of it, on Champs de Mars greenery, there stood the Eiffel tower. For French speaking mass around me, clad in thick winter outfit, walking on that pavement was just like another step on their boring city. Here, I instantly had Monas in my mind. And it was. All big, stern, ugly, and grey that tower was.
Not until horses in Carousel de la Tour Eiffel started to move and accordion tunes flowed with it. And lights emerged in each bones of the tower structure. Sky as its background, was orange and purple blended, like a summer night in winter. Tourists around me, mostly Spanish speaking, shared that moment with their spouses, partner, family, and acquaintances. While I hugged Vincent deeply. He was my friend’s bad ass Nikon. I was alone on Parisian street.
Going back from there, I rode from Bir Hakiem until Line 6 finished at its last stop at Charles de Gaulle Etoile and spent a while in Arc de Triomphe, although I could’ve just taken Line 6 straightly to Lumiere. I prolonged my way back to the hostel because I wanted to see this city with you in my mind. On that journey, I played Anda with the Joints and SORE. It was just perfect. And, what do you do on a particularly perfect moment? You tweet, of course. And this was my tweet:
“walked back from arc the triomphe with SORE and Anda in my iPod. the only thing missing was my guy.” 6:58 AM Feb 17th via TweetDeck
And then I wondered what did you do back then. Were you asleep or working. Did you also walk with me in your thought. Then I knew you were not. I was all alone on Parisian street, even in my mind.
Three days after 2010 Valentine's Day
Thursday, April 29, 2010
ticket(s)
Act 1
Scene 1
(A sunny day. A couple celebrates their third anniversary and passes by Bunderan HI. It is a bright day with all Bunderan HI water hoses working, sparking a complete round to the sky. Suddenly a cop stops the car and said the bf didn’t flash the car sign lamp)
She : Don’t give them money. Ask for the ticket.
(Bf climbs down and the cop escorts him to their checkpoint. Gf doesn’t believe that he will go for the ticket, so she also go out and leave the car. After a few word and half an hour battles with the cops, they get into the car again)
She : Good that we didn’t pay and got the ticket
Him : Honey, if you’d just let me give my joker innocent face, we could’ve escaped that. And if you hadn’t interrupted, I could have just paid them 20k rupiahs. And they gave us the red ticket, not the blue one. It means that we should go to the court.
She : No. Ticket is good.
(Then they have their anniversary lunch)
Act 2, Scene 1 and Act 3, Scene 1
(Two days later and three days later gf rides with two different people and both of them get stopped by cops. Gf doesn’t do anything knowing the “get me a ticket negotiation” puts heaps of heat on her head, hence double briberies)
Act 4
Scene 1
Him : Let’s meet up. I’m going to give you the ticket receipt and please come to the court on behalf of me.
She : WTH? (putting this into her mind: being a law abiding citizen is a turn off)
Scene 1
(A sunny day. A couple celebrates their third anniversary and passes by Bunderan HI. It is a bright day with all Bunderan HI water hoses working, sparking a complete round to the sky. Suddenly a cop stops the car and said the bf didn’t flash the car sign lamp)
She : Don’t give them money. Ask for the ticket.
(Bf climbs down and the cop escorts him to their checkpoint. Gf doesn’t believe that he will go for the ticket, so she also go out and leave the car. After a few word and half an hour battles with the cops, they get into the car again)
She : Good that we didn’t pay and got the ticket
Him : Honey, if you’d just let me give my joker innocent face, we could’ve escaped that. And if you hadn’t interrupted, I could have just paid them 20k rupiahs. And they gave us the red ticket, not the blue one. It means that we should go to the court.
She : No. Ticket is good.
(Then they have their anniversary lunch)
Act 2, Scene 1 and Act 3, Scene 1
(Two days later and three days later gf rides with two different people and both of them get stopped by cops. Gf doesn’t do anything knowing the “get me a ticket negotiation” puts heaps of heat on her head, hence double briberies)
Act 4
Scene 1
Him : Let’s meet up. I’m going to give you the ticket receipt and please come to the court on behalf of me.
She : WTH? (putting this into her mind: being a law abiding citizen is a turn off)
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
termites
Green leaves dangling scarcely from evenly planted trees. Legendary statues leading us to all corners of the world. Vienna, Canada, Monaco, and we saw Florida.
“I tell ya, this is looks a lot like Florida golf course. I thought the warehouse will be located somewhere shabbier,” said a person behind me.
In fact, this is not shabby at all. We entered a real estate empire. It made us see grand skins but felt like as if it was a typical Jakarta bus terminal without shelter.
As I let sunshine sipping on my skin, we reached Paris. The cluster. We stopped at a house that looked new but was not taken care of. Another person who rode with us knocked his forefinger to the door panel.
“Should watch for termites, this kind of woods,” he said. “In my old house, we planted a big cow head outside. It attracts big red ants, which will scare termites. And it worked. Traditional wisdom is magical, too bad we set it aside.”
“Yes, but you will get butches of red ants,” I said while frowning my head thinking what if a big cow head was buried deeply in my front yard.
“No, you won’t. The ants won’t come up,” he replied.
After we finished our business there, I went home. I showered, washed my hair, and just dried it with a towel. Then I slouched in my mom’s bed. Mom was looking for our Kartu Keluarga, and dug for some more items. After she finished, she looked disappointed,
“All of your life stories are gone. I wrote about your growth from the very first day I saw you until when you’re about six year old. Hand written. And it’s all gone. Also your brothers’,” she said.
I lied flat on my stomach and buried my face into mom’s pillow, with my wet hair touching some air. “Why, Mom?” I tried to be nor disappointed or mad.
“Termites ate them,” mom said lightly.
We should plant a big cow head. Or just write a blog instead. It’s termite-free. I should’ve had typed those stories and saved it electronically.
“But Mom, do you still have those cassettes with my crying in both side A and B?”
Oh, please don’t let all my life gone by termites.
“I tell ya, this is looks a lot like Florida golf course. I thought the warehouse will be located somewhere shabbier,” said a person behind me.
In fact, this is not shabby at all. We entered a real estate empire. It made us see grand skins but felt like as if it was a typical Jakarta bus terminal without shelter.
As I let sunshine sipping on my skin, we reached Paris. The cluster. We stopped at a house that looked new but was not taken care of. Another person who rode with us knocked his forefinger to the door panel.
“Should watch for termites, this kind of woods,” he said. “In my old house, we planted a big cow head outside. It attracts big red ants, which will scare termites. And it worked. Traditional wisdom is magical, too bad we set it aside.”
“Yes, but you will get butches of red ants,” I said while frowning my head thinking what if a big cow head was buried deeply in my front yard.
“No, you won’t. The ants won’t come up,” he replied.
After we finished our business there, I went home. I showered, washed my hair, and just dried it with a towel. Then I slouched in my mom’s bed. Mom was looking for our Kartu Keluarga, and dug for some more items. After she finished, she looked disappointed,
“All of your life stories are gone. I wrote about your growth from the very first day I saw you until when you’re about six year old. Hand written. And it’s all gone. Also your brothers’,” she said.
I lied flat on my stomach and buried my face into mom’s pillow, with my wet hair touching some air. “Why, Mom?” I tried to be nor disappointed or mad.
“Termites ate them,” mom said lightly.
We should plant a big cow head. Or just write a blog instead. It’s termite-free. I should’ve had typed those stories and saved it electronically.
“But Mom, do you still have those cassettes with my crying in both side A and B?”
Oh, please don’t let all my life gone by termites.
Monday, March 15, 2010
possess
"Sendhil Mullainathan, a Harvard economist, points out that there is often a big gap between what people say they’d like to save and what they end up saving. Saving, he argues, is often “what didn’t happen”—the accumulation of decisions not to consume. Consumption, by contrast, is an active decision to buy something. One product he is testing in India involves collaborating with banking agents to sell “savings cards” in shops, so that saving becomes an active purchase and can compete with other impulse buys. With luck these kinds of innovations can help the poor use their own savings to make life just a little more predictable," from The Economist.
Indeed, our desire to buy an object is as if we will accomplish the final objective of buying that object. i.e: when we buy books, the instant emotion is knowledge fulfillment although we haven't read that book. The act of buying reflects our instinct to possess, which is active, covering our desire to complete ourselves passively. And the innovation above tricks our psyche to actively save money. While saving in the bank feels more passive as we lost our possession to numbers in bank statement. We people like to possess.
Indeed, our desire to buy an object is as if we will accomplish the final objective of buying that object. i.e: when we buy books, the instant emotion is knowledge fulfillment although we haven't read that book. The act of buying reflects our instinct to possess, which is active, covering our desire to complete ourselves passively. And the innovation above tricks our psyche to actively save money. While saving in the bank feels more passive as we lost our possession to numbers in bank statement. We people like to possess.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Thursday, March 04, 2010
tidbits 1: karaoke is political
When you do karaoke with late 1960s and early 1970s born people and mostly men, sing heavy metal rock songs: Metallica, Deep Purple, or the most attainable ones (reachable by pop vocal range): KISS especially “Beth”, Rolling Stones, or Queen. In the most desperate times, pick The Beatles. Where there are more women, choose The Tremeloes kinda songs or early Celine Dions. More choices are melancholic songs with a bit of guitar riffs and endless desperate rising part, i.e. Air Supply’s “Making Love Out of nothing at All” or Meatloaf’s confusing song “I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)”.
With late 1970s and early 1980s, sing Indonesian band songs in their golden years: 1990s of course. Like the first café band ever recorded: Java Jive, “Kau Yang Terindah”, “Gadis Malam”, or Protonema, Kahitna, GIGI, and Dewa when Dhani was sane. Mid 1980s have preferences of singer songwriter genre Jason, Jack, John; pop punks, J-Rocks, or challenging solo vocalists such as Mariah Carey and Michael Jackson. To put some jokes in it, choose Warna’s “Ada Cinta”, or Nicky Astria’s and fellows songs. To put some local groove, ME’S “Inikah Cinta” and Titi Kamal’s “Jablay”. I don’t sing current Indonesian pop chart, even Kuburan and other current trending bands are too bad to become jokes in karaoke room.
Choose your songs based on your audience and they will like you and think you like the same songs as them.
With late 1970s and early 1980s, sing Indonesian band songs in their golden years: 1990s of course. Like the first café band ever recorded: Java Jive, “Kau Yang Terindah”, “Gadis Malam”, or Protonema, Kahitna, GIGI, and Dewa when Dhani was sane. Mid 1980s have preferences of singer songwriter genre Jason, Jack, John; pop punks, J-Rocks, or challenging solo vocalists such as Mariah Carey and Michael Jackson. To put some jokes in it, choose Warna’s “Ada Cinta”, or Nicky Astria’s and fellows songs. To put some local groove, ME’S “Inikah Cinta” and Titi Kamal’s “Jablay”. I don’t sing current Indonesian pop chart, even Kuburan and other current trending bands are too bad to become jokes in karaoke room.
Choose your songs based on your audience and they will like you and think you like the same songs as them.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Aqua
I made Aqua’s selling drop, at least by three populations. Why? Because I told my friends that I asked my bf to open his mouth to put a medium (not small, not big) 500 ml Aqua bottle or a banana in it. So he can feel what a BJ feels like. I mean, it’s such a chore and I don’t understand that anybody could enjoy their jaw open and up and shoving something that also functions as a urinal channel, for one hour.
And my friends will never touch Aqua again without thinking of my bf and his buggle boe.
There I said it.
And I feel so sorry because Aqua has this program “Satu untuk Sepuluh” and WASH for people in Nusa Tenggara Timur.
I’m half Flores and I’m so sorry, Aqua. But, I think guys should know about the effort their sexual partner makes. Next time I will bring him on a waxing experience. Ha!
And my friends will never touch Aqua again without thinking of my bf and his buggle boe.
There I said it.
And I feel so sorry because Aqua has this program “Satu untuk Sepuluh” and WASH for people in Nusa Tenggara Timur.
I’m half Flores and I’m so sorry, Aqua. But, I think guys should know about the effort their sexual partner makes. Next time I will bring him on a waxing experience. Ha!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
no middleman
Amount of money and time I should’ve paid if I had used a middleman to renew my passport (assumption):
IDR 575k (275 k for passport fee and 300k for the middleman), 3 days
Amount of money and time I spent without middleman:
1.Form Submission (Monday)
Taxi (Bekasi-Immigration office in Jakarta): 90k
Form : 0k (free of charge)
(But, the) Folder costs: 5k
Hours waiting: 8 hours
Submitting the form: 1 minute
Taxi (immigration office-Plaza Senayan): 25k
2.Picture taking, fingerprinting, etc (Wednesday, Day 1)
Day(s) after form submission: 2
Wake up time: 5.30 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival time at the immigration): 6.30 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1.30 hours
Time they told us that their online system was down: 8.30 AM
Taxi (immigration office –my office): 40k
3.Picture Taking, fingerprinting (Thursday, Day 2)
Wake up time: 5.30 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival time (Got the second turn): 6.30 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1.30 hours
Fee: 275k
Picture taking, fingerprinting, and payment done: 9.30 AM
Taxi (immigration office –my office): 40k
Arrived at the office: 10.30 AM
4.Passport Collecting (Wednesday, the week after)
They said my passport would be done on Tuesday and my feeling told me it couldn’t be, so I came on Wednesday.
Wake up time: 6 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival Time: 7 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1 hour
Time they told me my passport was still in process: 8.30
(my feeling was right, and it’s Wednesday!)
Taxi (immigration office – my office): 40k
Arrived at the office: 9.15 AM
I just calculated the cost at my end: 590k, 1 week and 3 days
Assumed cost I should’ve paid if I had used a middleman: 575k, 3 days
Ha!
(And I haven’t got my passport yet, so the cost would sum up at least for one more day)
It’s tiring being a law-abiding citizen.
IDR 575k (275 k for passport fee and 300k for the middleman), 3 days
Amount of money and time I spent without middleman:
1.Form Submission (Monday)
Taxi (Bekasi-Immigration office in Jakarta): 90k
Form : 0k (free of charge)
(But, the) Folder costs: 5k
Hours waiting: 8 hours
Submitting the form: 1 minute
Taxi (immigration office-Plaza Senayan): 25k
2.Picture taking, fingerprinting, etc (Wednesday, Day 1)
Day(s) after form submission: 2
Wake up time: 5.30 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival time at the immigration): 6.30 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1.30 hours
Time they told us that their online system was down: 8.30 AM
Taxi (immigration office –my office): 40k
3.Picture Taking, fingerprinting (Thursday, Day 2)
Wake up time: 5.30 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival time (Got the second turn): 6.30 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1.30 hours
Fee: 275k
Picture taking, fingerprinting, and payment done: 9.30 AM
Taxi (immigration office –my office): 40k
Arrived at the office: 10.30 AM
4.Passport Collecting (Wednesday, the week after)
They said my passport would be done on Tuesday and my feeling told me it couldn’t be, so I came on Wednesday.
Wake up time: 6 AM
Taxi (kost – immigration office): 25k
Arrival Time: 7 AM
Hours waiting before the immigration’s open at 8 AM: 1 hour
Time they told me my passport was still in process: 8.30
(my feeling was right, and it’s Wednesday!)
Taxi (immigration office – my office): 40k
Arrived at the office: 9.15 AM
I just calculated the cost at my end: 590k, 1 week and 3 days
Assumed cost I should’ve paid if I had used a middleman: 575k, 3 days
Ha!
(And I haven’t got my passport yet, so the cost would sum up at least for one more day)
It’s tiring being a law-abiding citizen.
Monday, January 18, 2010
power struggle
Bf’s favorite radio channels are the one where Bittersherry’s bf works and the one that doesn’t broadcast any ad, with nonstop jazz and pop songs. He tunes into those radios every weekend. That means in all our dates with me, as a person with ears, included in the car. He doesn’t play his iPod. And thank God he doesn’t do that because his iPod only consists of Rockstar Supernova contestants’ numbers.
One Saturday, I bought this Java Jazz deluxe pack CD. Indra lesmana, Gilang Ramadhan, AS Mates, Donny Suhendra, and Dewa Budjana finally come up with their new album “Joy Joy Joy” after a long hiatus. I thought, bf is pretty tired of those radio channels too. I thought, I am giving us a new music flavor of the night. I thought 29 year old guys are all grown up. I thought this and that. And, I slipped in Joy Joy Joy CD A in the middle of Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” right when it shouts “MASTER voom voom MASTER,” Master yes we get it you adrenaline-d macho men.
Java Jazz’ “Exit Permit” reached its fifth second when my bf pulled out my poor CD out and said, “Hey, be patient. The song will be over soon. Then you’ll have your turn.” I was sick with that particular rock radio and that night was their oh listen, Request Night. And I was pretty mad that he thought I did not know how long that Metallica’s number last. You might think the last drumbeat is when the song ends. We all know it’s wrong. Dream Theater and Metallica’s songs are like multiple orgasms. You thought U’ve reached the climax but there are many stages after that in one song, often with different genres, melody, timbre, texture and rhythms.
Fine, he could do that and I could do what I do best: silent treatment. I took my iPod and listened to random songs my iPod played and it played “Half of My Heart” by John Mayer and Taylor Swift. Suhweet. Bf then pulled my earphones. I put them on again. He then increased the radio’s volume. And then I started humming. And my iPod was very smart; it played totally different kind of songs than that stupid screaming Metallica. It played, “I’m Easy”, “Kissing a Fool”, songs by Los Indios Trabajaras. One more thing that my bf didn’t know was I study best with loud music. In this case, that loud stupid Metallica is my catalyst to listen to my iPod better. Then of course, he did not turn off the radio.
And that my friends, is how silly a simple thing can be. Based on this article, there are five stages in a committed relationship; Romance, Disillusionment, Power Struggle, Stability, Commitment. Each stage has its own period. But, my Power Struggle stage keeps on showing and in my case, it is infinite. I was in my fourth song when “Master of Puppets” ended (slight exaggeration here). Finally, I said, ”The song would finish soon huh? Like, tomorrow?” And the power struggle stage continued. But really, who likes plain vanulla relationship?
One Saturday, I bought this Java Jazz deluxe pack CD. Indra lesmana, Gilang Ramadhan, AS Mates, Donny Suhendra, and Dewa Budjana finally come up with their new album “Joy Joy Joy” after a long hiatus. I thought, bf is pretty tired of those radio channels too. I thought, I am giving us a new music flavor of the night. I thought 29 year old guys are all grown up. I thought this and that. And, I slipped in Joy Joy Joy CD A in the middle of Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” right when it shouts “MASTER voom voom MASTER,” Master yes we get it you adrenaline-d macho men.
Java Jazz’ “Exit Permit” reached its fifth second when my bf pulled out my poor CD out and said, “Hey, be patient. The song will be over soon. Then you’ll have your turn.” I was sick with that particular rock radio and that night was their oh listen, Request Night. And I was pretty mad that he thought I did not know how long that Metallica’s number last. You might think the last drumbeat is when the song ends. We all know it’s wrong. Dream Theater and Metallica’s songs are like multiple orgasms. You thought U’ve reached the climax but there are many stages after that in one song, often with different genres, melody, timbre, texture and rhythms.
Fine, he could do that and I could do what I do best: silent treatment. I took my iPod and listened to random songs my iPod played and it played “Half of My Heart” by John Mayer and Taylor Swift. Suhweet. Bf then pulled my earphones. I put them on again. He then increased the radio’s volume. And then I started humming. And my iPod was very smart; it played totally different kind of songs than that stupid screaming Metallica. It played, “I’m Easy”, “Kissing a Fool”, songs by Los Indios Trabajaras. One more thing that my bf didn’t know was I study best with loud music. In this case, that loud stupid Metallica is my catalyst to listen to my iPod better. Then of course, he did not turn off the radio.
And that my friends, is how silly a simple thing can be. Based on this article, there are five stages in a committed relationship; Romance, Disillusionment, Power Struggle, Stability, Commitment. Each stage has its own period. But, my Power Struggle stage keeps on showing and in my case, it is infinite. I was in my fourth song when “Master of Puppets” ended (slight exaggeration here). Finally, I said, ”The song would finish soon huh? Like, tomorrow?” And the power struggle stage continued. But really, who likes plain vanulla relationship?
Friday, December 25, 2009
it's beginning to look a lot like christmas
It's Christmas time and I know not everybody has the privilege to attend Christmas eve mass in the cathedral then waited for their bf to finish Sholat Maghrib at Istiqlal. Here's what it feels like, please take a piece of its warmth =)
Jakarta's cathedral seen from Istiqlal pavement
Cathedral's gate
Christmas eve mass with Indonesia National Police' Protection.
After that, bf's almost 30 birthday dinner:
Both: Bebek Bengil Restaurant
nephew #3
nephew #2 with his glow in the dark pumpkin pajamas
nephew #2 with his future diet
Hope your holiday be fuzzed with love and warmth, y'all!
Jakarta's cathedral seen from Istiqlal pavement
Cathedral's gate
Christmas eve mass with Indonesia National Police' Protection.
After that, bf's almost 30 birthday dinner:
Both: Bebek Bengil Restaurant
nephew #3
nephew #2 with his glow in the dark pumpkin pajamas
nephew #2 with his future diet
Hope your holiday be fuzzed with love and warmth, y'all!
Thursday, December 03, 2009
uniform
In uniform, I see you in function and form. I don’t really see your face. I don’t see your hair. Just like when most people think Asians or African American or Indians or Aborigins or Arabs share the same face between them. Or when we see orangutans or macaques, they have similar faces the first time we see them. When they clad you in short skirts and skimpy shirt with your hair done that people call you sales promotion girl, I want you to please, smile, and serve me. When you put on your student uniform I want you to adhere with the school system. I don’t see your eyebrows, your eyes, let alone your personalities. For me, this is why some people have fetish in uniform. We, the lookers, are the subjects who determine your function. I don’t want you to talk back, god forbid give me ideas. You have to fulfill what your uniform represents. It’s all about the persons not in uniforms.
This is why I don't like uniform.
This is why I don't like uniform.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
active listener
I found this article when flipping through websites during my morning green tea before work ritual, “Feeling Grumpy is ‘good for you’”. And I love the phrase “annoying happy types” they use there. It basically says:
“An Australian psychology expert who has been studying emotions has found being grumpy makes us think more clearly.
In contrast to those annoying happy types, miserable people are better at decision-making and less gullible, his experiments showed.
While cheerfulness fosters creativity, gloominess breeds attentiveness and careful thinking, Professor Joe Forgas told Australian Science Magazine”.
It’s like, wow someone feels me. Disclaimer: I’m not saying I am attentive and thinking carefully, but I am gloomy in general. Happy, in appearance at least, is not something that comes easy for my 25 years living. I have curved down lips. Not flat, not up. Lips, which I recall from some scientific facial research, belong to persons who age sadly. In my normal state of expression, my lips are curved down, I look barky. Bf keeps telling me to smile, like everyday. I know I have wide angled smiley lips, and it looks slightly better than the normal state (One has to know what one’s got). But, it is hard to stage.
Anyway, I try. I changed my blog background from black to this I-don’t-know-what-variant-of-green-is, my twitter background is a happy purple with soft flowers, and my emo suicidal mood has changed drastically recently, not that I ever had it but you know what I mean. I rant fewer; I create dark surreal poems full with metaphors scarcely, the obvious one is black is no longer my favorite wardrobe color. It all comes with effort. Oh, and smileys in texts, there you go. An effort.
Do not think that I made the effort to change my branding. No. More practical reason for me is to become a less of an active listener. In my whole life, people talk to me more than I talk to them. And perhaps, not happy face (interpreted as serious by overly verbose persons) and attentiveness play some roles here.
Has this reduced my attractive active listener characteristic? No. A large number of my YM conversations still consist of me saying “trus?”, “and?”, “why?”, and just a bit of my counterpart asking ”how about you?” five lines before the conversations end. And I say “trus?”, etc in a full conscious, fabricated, so you will be satisfied with this yours truly active listener.
Being an active listener (really, one has to know what one’s got or perhaps the only thing that one’s got) is well, interesting. Some people even ask me to conclude and giving them inputs. Sometimes, I feel like analyzing a discourse using Laclau and Mouffe discourse analysis theory, and should write a thesis upon a love story. I feel honored and doing something useful, and scientific.
When an active listener counterpart keep being a verbose counterpart in his/her life and shutting down their opposite chatter, their position is not equal with the others. I see you, yes you chatty persons, as people who come, talk, and leave without paying a shrink fee. In contrast, the always be active listener is also a dumb. Should have a right portion for everything, right? Hence, my effort. Meanwhile, talkative people*, pay up your shrink fee. I kid I kid, you know I love you *lots of smileys* ohhh, and XOXO.
*Talkative people do not always appear happy. Lots of them are masked in black rock n roll gloomy weed-full face.
“An Australian psychology expert who has been studying emotions has found being grumpy makes us think more clearly.
In contrast to those annoying happy types, miserable people are better at decision-making and less gullible, his experiments showed.
While cheerfulness fosters creativity, gloominess breeds attentiveness and careful thinking, Professor Joe Forgas told Australian Science Magazine”.
It’s like, wow someone feels me. Disclaimer: I’m not saying I am attentive and thinking carefully, but I am gloomy in general. Happy, in appearance at least, is not something that comes easy for my 25 years living. I have curved down lips. Not flat, not up. Lips, which I recall from some scientific facial research, belong to persons who age sadly. In my normal state of expression, my lips are curved down, I look barky. Bf keeps telling me to smile, like everyday. I know I have wide angled smiley lips, and it looks slightly better than the normal state (One has to know what one’s got). But, it is hard to stage.
Anyway, I try. I changed my blog background from black to this I-don’t-know-what-variant-of-green-is, my twitter background is a happy purple with soft flowers, and my emo suicidal mood has changed drastically recently, not that I ever had it but you know what I mean. I rant fewer; I create dark surreal poems full with metaphors scarcely, the obvious one is black is no longer my favorite wardrobe color. It all comes with effort. Oh, and smileys in texts, there you go. An effort.
Do not think that I made the effort to change my branding. No. More practical reason for me is to become a less of an active listener. In my whole life, people talk to me more than I talk to them. And perhaps, not happy face (interpreted as serious by overly verbose persons) and attentiveness play some roles here.
Has this reduced my attractive active listener characteristic? No. A large number of my YM conversations still consist of me saying “trus?”, “and?”, “why?”, and just a bit of my counterpart asking ”how about you?” five lines before the conversations end. And I say “trus?”, etc in a full conscious, fabricated, so you will be satisfied with this yours truly active listener.
Being an active listener (really, one has to know what one’s got or perhaps the only thing that one’s got) is well, interesting. Some people even ask me to conclude and giving them inputs. Sometimes, I feel like analyzing a discourse using Laclau and Mouffe discourse analysis theory, and should write a thesis upon a love story. I feel honored and doing something useful, and scientific.
When an active listener counterpart keep being a verbose counterpart in his/her life and shutting down their opposite chatter, their position is not equal with the others. I see you, yes you chatty persons, as people who come, talk, and leave without paying a shrink fee. In contrast, the always be active listener is also a dumb. Should have a right portion for everything, right? Hence, my effort. Meanwhile, talkative people*, pay up your shrink fee. I kid I kid, you know I love you *lots of smileys* ohhh, and XOXO.
*Talkative people do not always appear happy. Lots of them are masked in black rock n roll gloomy weed-full face.
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