Counting Down To July 31st

So, it's going to be "MY" day in less than 12 hours. I'll add another number in my age. I thank life for all the gifts and pains, the bitter and the sweet, successes and failures. No matter how I've been trying as hard to learn the good side of each failure.

For all these things I treasure:

Each second of heartbeat

Each breath : inhale and exhale

A sane mind

An awareness of life

Each morning wake up

Each night sleep

A job

Works

Family: Mom, my beloved late Dad, caring cousins

Friends

Loves for me

Love of me for others

Monthly salary

Money

Saving

Bills

Belongings

Health

Sickness

Knowledge

Chance for learning

Dates

Breakups

Tears

Joy

Laughter

Meals

Water

Free air

Technology

Internet

Depressing internet connection

mIRC

Yahoo Messenger

Post Office

Mobile phone

Cellular provider

A normal woman's body

Each precious moment

And all the other things I can't remember.

Some goals haven't been achieved, but some precious things happen unexpected. And I thank for each of those.

Happy birthday to me.

Oh, July!

So here comes July. My very month. So I thought I should write something to fill up my July blog entry. It’s a limp excuse, but, I do want to write something because I love Julys.

Joe celebrated his birthday on July 1^st. Canada day, too… so I guess the entire Canada celebrated his birthday, because at the same time they celebrated themselves too. Happy Birthday, Joe, and Happy Birthday Canada! Wish you both the very best.

The 2^nd of July. Such a long day at work. There was this family gathering for all the staff and their families in the brand new swimming pool. So there were kids of the co-workers, wives and husbands, games, prizes and everything. I was almost the only one wasn’t wet. I said, almost. I was almost successful in escaping from being thrown into the pool by the co-workers, when they finally threw a bucketful of water onto me while I was watching the water polo match. I was soaking wet and I didn’t bring dry clothes. Thanks to Steve, such a nice kid, he lent me his dry shirt. Though it was too big for me, at least, I didn’t have to tremble on my way home because of the wetness and the night wind.

However, I broke my own heart that night. It was very emotional. I can’t say any word of it, I only hope to have my heart back.

Another Cancerian’s birthday. It was Endah’s, my cousin. On the 3^rd. I do have some these Cancerians surrounds me. Sometimes when I pause to observe, there are so many Cancers and Leos I know. Perhaps the most in the amount.

Another big, or perhaps the biggest, and the most happening Cancerian is The United States of America, of course, who has just celebrated her 232^nd birthday on the 4^th! Happy Independence Day, and well… happy birthday, America! Speaking of the name itself, America, it reminds me of America Ferrera, the lead actress, Betty Suarez in the Golden Globe Winning Series “Ugly Betty”, one of my favourite TV series.

America Ferrera, just as her character, Betty Suarez, is a descendant of Mexican immigrants in USA, sowing her American dream in the land of dream for many people. So, America, the United States, I wish you understand how meaningful your name may sound to millions of people.

The day I wrote this journal, 5^th of July, is marked with a soft color in my calendar, just as every 5^th of the month. And this 5^th is the 4^th 5. Unfortunately, I don’t have a chance to celebrate it. However, I do thank for the day, 4 months ago.

Badminton! Yay! I finally did it Saturday morning with Popin. After ummm…. 20 years didn’t play? Yikes. I thought I wouldn’t able to play it, but I was! I was still able to play it. It was quite fun.

And still…I’m looking forward to another birthday. A Leonine’s birthday. Mine. At the end of the month.

Wishing On A Lizard

One of those weird things I did in my childhood was wishing on a lizard.

People would wish on a falling star, in a prayer, but on a lizard…?

That was my cousin’s idea.

I spent many years with Tinuk. We shared childhood and adolescent together, and ceased only after she got married and had to move thousand miles away, in The Netherlands. We shared beautiful dreams, crazy things, and crazy ideas. And this was one of her crazy ideas, one of those many things I had no idea of where she got from.

One day while sitting by a river in front of my house, a lizard passed by. And she shouted, “I want to be pretty!” I looked at her face confusedly.

She said, “Say your wishes to a lizard passing you by.” She said people had told her so, and what you have wished may come true. Whether it was true or not, I started to follow her advice since then, and thought so much about what I wanted to wish for, so each time I would see a lizard, I could say my wishes immediately, before the lizard gone.

My very first wish to a lizard was “I want to be pretty,” exactly the same as Tinuk’s. And the second was “I want to be a genius.” And the last and mostly forgotten, “I want to be rich.”

It has been almost two decades I’ve been following Tinuk’s advice for wishing on a lizard. Though I gradually stop doing it since a few years ago, sometimes though, when I see a lizard with an amazing skin passing me by and lingers for a while, I still do it.

Tinuk might have always been a pretty girl, marrying a wealthy man with respectable career, owns a house and a cute baby girl, the things she might have wished on lizards passed by her. She might had not been one of the best students when she graduated from university, and might have not been in a manager position of her career, but perhaps, these were not the things she wished for.

These lizards might have heard my wishes and granted my first and second wishes, as I never had problem with weight or hair—only some pimples that I can get rid off after I see a beautician :D and that I haven’t had such a real hard time in college. However, as I always forgot to say the third wish, it seemed that the lizards always forgot to grant it as well, as I see myself still have to be careful with my expenses, and keep wondering how to make more money.

Anyway…such a naïve little girl hardly knows really well what she has to wish for. Wish I knew it better, I would have wished not only for such physical things like beauty, brain, and money. I would have wished for a peaceful world, an eternal cease of wars (political, ethnic or civil wars), an absence of terrorism and the insane doctrines of the religious terrorists, and… the most important of all for me and my people, that is the real improvements in my own country, nation and people—wise decisions I need to hear from the government, a change on the mindset of the people, a stability of prices (at least, only a slight increase), zero corruption, getting free of debts, and free access to or low fares for human basic needs—health, education, transportation.

Now I’ve realized these things, and I don’t think lizards can do anything with them. These take an awareness, a leader, and later, a nation, before they will take the world. They take me, and any individual to start with.

An Empty Can

click it for a larger image

This is a picture of an empty can, I took in the city park. MY city park.

Let's take a look.

An | empty | can

[undefined article] - [adjective] - [noun]

An / empty can --> empty / can

Thus, we get the noun, or the root of the sentence: CAN.

What does a CAN contain?

A can contains:
1. Milk.
2. Water.
3. Snack.
4. Meal.
etc.

It means, a LOADED CAN can be either in / on /at these places:

1. Refrigerator
2. Dining table
3. Cupboard
4. Anywhere you can get "drink" or "food".

And, an EMPTY CAN should be found in a DUSTBIN.

Then what could have happened to an empty can on the pathway of a city park?

It has been thrown.

I've been wondering how could have an empty can been thrown onto a place where it shouldn't have been. Not into a dustbin, not into a recycling machine, but on a city park's pathway. The task of throwing an empty can into a dustbin shouldn't be that difficult, unless the dustbin or the GARBAGE CAN is 200 miles away. But this was a city park, where garbage cans were found every 20 meters. Stepping towards one wouldn't have cost a thing: not a penny, not a sweat, not a single blood. But this stupid geek didn't know that. After I took this picture, my friend, Popin, picked it and walked just ten steps and threw it into a HUGE garbage can.

I wish this moron who has thrown an empty can carelessly on the city park's pathway were the last moron in the universe. I wish.

The Art Of Losing

Losing is definitely something not nice to experience (for sure!), but, everyone has at least an experience of losing. We might not realize but, maybe, once we go through it, it's only a verse of our book of life.


Last week, as American Idol reran the entire Season 7 in a "season marathon", Ryan Seacrest mentioned about "the harsh of rejection". It was about losing a chance. Later, Mariah Carey sang Bye Bye on stage and I fell in love with the song right away. This song was about "losing".


Today, I found in Melissa Bank's Girls' Guide To Hunting And Fishing, a best seller chick lit, a quote from Elizabeth Bishop's One Art. I knew this poetry but never really thought of it, but today, I thought, losing is something unavoidable in life.


However, it is not what Elizabeth Bishop wanted to tell us about the art of losing. It is that we should learn to accept "losing".

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
So many things seem filled with the intent to be lost
that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day.
Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel.
None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch.
And look!
My last,
or next-to-last,
of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones.
And, vaster, some realms I owned,
two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love)
I shan't have lied.
It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master
Though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

From The Complete Poems 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop, published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Copyright © 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel. Used with permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.

CAUTION: Users are warned that this work is protected under copyright laws and downloading is strictly prohibited. The right to reproduce or transfer the work via any medium must be secured with Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, LLC.

(Well...This is a "copy-and-paste" business, so, with all respect, I guess I better copy and paste the source and whatever prohibition it may contain.)

Mariah's version of "losing" is probably more "hip" than Elizabeth Bishop's, as heard in her Bye Bye lyrics. Nevertheless, it touches my heart that some of its contain speak what I always want to speak to my late dad.

Bye Bye
by Mariah Carey


This is for my peoples
Who just lost somebody
Your best friend, your baby
Your man or your lady
Put your hand way up high
We will never say bye
No, no, no

Mamas, daddies, sisters, brothers
Friends and cousins
This is for my peoples
Who lost their grandmothers
Lift your head to the sky
Cause we will never say bye

As a child there were them times
I didn't get it
But you kept me in line
I didn't know why
You didn't show up sometimes
On Sunday mornings and I missed you
But I'm glad we talked through

All them grown folk things
Separation brings
You never let me know it
You never let it show
Because you loved me and obviously
There's so much more left to say
If you were with me today
Face to face

I never knew I could hurt like this
And everyday life goes on
I wish I could talk to you for a while
Miss you but I try not to cry
As time goes by

And it's true that you've
reached a better place
Still I'd give the world to see your face
and be right here next to you
But it's like you're gone too soon
Now the hardest thing to do is say

Bye bye
Bye bye, bye bye, bye bye
Bye bye, bye bye, bye bye
Bye bye, bye bye, bye bye
Bye bye

You never got a chance to see
How good I've done
And you never got to
see me back at number one
I wish that you were here
to celebrate together
I wish that we could
spend the holidays together

I remember when you used to
tuck me in at night
With the teddy bear you gave me
that I held so tight
I thought you were so strong
You'd make it through whatever
It's so hard to accept the fact
you're gone forever

I never knew I could hurt like this
And everyday life goes on
I wish I could talk to you for a while
Miss you but I try not to cry
As time goes by

And it's true that you've
reached a better place
Still I'd give the world to see your face
And be right here next to you
But it's like you're gone too soon
Now the hardest thing to do is say

Bye bye
Bye bye, bye bye, bye bye
Bye bye, bye bye, bye bye
Bye bye, bye bye, bye bye
Bye bye

True, I wish I've spent more time with my dad before he left me forever. I never thought that I could miss him so much. I thought he would be here forever for me.

Questions I'd Like To Ask

If there are questions I can ask...

Why should I met a man whom I could not be with?

Why should he have all the things I had been looking for?

He had brighten up my days,

He has painted my nights,

I had to do nothing to please him. Just be there, talked to him.

Why could we not just be friends, even though we had worked hard to be?

We cared about each other more than the way two friends supposed to care about.

We missed each other more than the way two friends supposed to miss.

We wanted each other more than the way two friends supposed to want.

But once, we had to pause and look at what we had done.

We shouldn't have been with each other, the way we have been.

We had made things complicated.

Simply by caring about each other.

I might probably had made things complicated.

Simply by showing up in his life,

When he should have been with the one he was supposed to be with.

Another question I'd like to ask...

Why can I not be a selfish?

When I should have been one.

To fight my own need.

To should not give up and let things go.

And, the last question I'd like to ask...

Why was time not on my side?

Once In My Life

Once in my life…

I got so much.

I saw a firing. I typed the letters. The firing letters. With all thanks and appreciations to the salespeople. With all regrets that the company should reduce the overhead cost, they could only keep the crucial ones.

It hurt me to type their names. It hurt me to call them one by one. It hurt me to spend my last lunchtime with them. It hurt me to recall the moments I have shared with them.

It was bitter. But they said it was something normal. Normal thing to happen at work. In profit-oriented companies. In sales world. But it hurts me. It hurts me to accept the fact.

I gave my hugs to them. But I guess hugs weren’t enough.

Then, I had an accident. My feet were burnt. I was careless. I couldn’t go to work. I stayed home, in pain. I shed a tear. Regretting the stupid mistake I have made. But did I learn something. I learned to be more careful.

Later, I had to put aside something precious. It's probably called "my happiness".

I had to learn to have a bigger heart. I had to learn this lyric of a song, “I know they say if you love somebody, you should set them free. Sure it’s hard to do.” Ronan Keating sings it perfectly, with his perfect voice.

We cried a lot. But it hurt me more that he cried.

That he said he cared about me, I've heard that from so many men. That he said he didn't want to lose me, neither did I. That he asked me to remain a good friend of his, he didn't have to ask. That he said he was thankful that I have stolen his heart, so was I. But one thing he didn't know, he has filled up a tiny piece of space in my heart with sunshine. A space where you put all your hopes and faiths and sacrifices in. Not with his beauty. Not with the moment he had shared with me. It was with him making me smile and feel precious.

Now I can’t imagine how would my days and nights be without him. Even now I’ve already felt a half of my soul fades. A bitter thing I learn as I grow up, I have learned not to be selfish. I’m not an angel, who can let it go easily. But sometimes in life I can’t be a total devil. And this time I shouldn’t be. I can’t always have what I want.

Once again, I shed another liter of tears.

Once in my life, I got too much. And I hope I got no more.

To Joe-chan.

Ah, He Got A GF!

These are the things I know why dating is important. We learn much about other. We learn not to be self-centered, we learn to listen, we learn to find a mutual way out, and we learn about the opposite sex—in some cases the latter could be excluded.

But let me ask. If you’re out of date—no matter why: haven’t recovered from your last broken heart, not many attractive guys around—is it so important to go out for a new dating appointment as soon as possible like finding a job so you can pay the bills or like getting a new pair of running shoes when your old ones have been worn out?

You might not be looking for Mr. Perfect—in my version is a hottie, 6 ft tall, broad shoulders, has that Wentworth Miller look and an Alex Band smile, knows how to be a good citizen and folds his flag in a separate corner of his wardrobe, and devotes his life for the poverty and hungry children in Africa (Amen!)—but if you haven’t found a man with the chemistry you’re expecting to find, would you date any man just to have a date?

I wouldn’t do that. I think it would be like lying to the man, pretending that I like him while I actually don’t. And I don’t think it is a good thing to do.

Wentworth Miller - Alex Band

I am not looking for a Mr. Perfect, as I believe that nobody is perfect. A person with the right chemistry is all I need. Although, I know sometimes chemistry can come to the wrong person too, like meeting someone who has a pretty smile and a decent job, charming, generous, humble—well, too good to be true—and just when I think it’s time to make a move, I find out that he’s already had a girlfriend. Oh, stupid Cupid!

What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted

I remember this Paul Young’s old hit. I was 11 years old then, was so into music charts—Casey’s Top 40 by Casey Kasem, US Top 40, Billboard Hot 100—and loved the tune of the broken heart song. Lately, I've just realized that this was not really an original song by Paul Young, in other words, Paul Young was one of the covers. This song was originally of Jimmy Ruffin - whoever he was - and I said one of, because there were many other covers (thanks to Wikipedia): Diana Ross & The Supremes (1969), Dave Stewart (1981), Robson & Jerome (1996), Joe Crocker (1998), Vonda Shepard (1999), Westlife (2000), Joan Osborne and The Funk Brothers (2002), The dB'd (2005), even a German band called Blue Lagoon (2007).

What is so interesting with a broken hearted? Today, while having lunch with some co-workers, I also discussed about broken hearted.

This might not be an amusing topic, but I’m sure almost everyone has been broken hearted even just once.

My life is not that broken heart free either—as if broken hearts were like sugar: Diet coke, sugar free!—not at all. I recall there were several times I was broken hearted. Some need a quick recovery, some take such a long time.

I remember one of my broken heart moments. It was a sweet boy with a genuine smile and sincere eyes. He was almost perfect. I said, almost. Except that he was unpredictable, and I couldn’t play guessing game anymore. It wasn’t because I was mad, I just thought that this kind of relationship did not suit us. I could not pretend that everything was ok when it actually wasn’t. I don’t think I should force myself into something that I am not able to.

I was broken hearted. Even though I made the decision in a total consciousness, in my perfect healthy condition, but still, knowing that I was losing moments we used to share together, the comforting words, the affection … it did take lots of tears!

A broken heart. What happens to it? When all the sweet things become bitter. When all the curiosities and excitements become boredom. When two different worlds are getting further and further and seems no single way on earth to unite. When the sparks are gone. When the fire fades away. When a small error becomes a big fatal fault. When all the perfect things become mistakes. You’re near but you seem on the other side of the world.

Then it leaves a pain inside your chest. Tears come without you exactly know how they start.

A broken heart. Sometimes another heart is the winner. Sometimes all are losers. But I guess it’s every lover has to go through. I might say it’s a phase of a relationship a couple might or might not face. It leaves us lessons to learn what to fix, what to change, and… it is not easy.

Some other references of broken heart songs (aiyaa...) :

1. Other Side Of The World - KT Tunstall

2. Someday We'll Know - New Radicals / Mandy Moore and Jonathan Foreman

3. Go On Girl - Ne Yo

4. The Long Goodbye - Ronan Keating

5. Can't Cry Hard Enough - William Brothers

This list does not recommend Queen's Love of My Life, because I'm suspecting it to stimulate the desire for committing suicide of a broken hearted person.

"Nasi Goreng!"

It is a common understanding that the first Indonesian words learned by foreigners are probably “selamat pagi” (good morning), “bagus” (good) and…”nasi goreng” (fried rice).

Nasi goreng becomes a popular word due to a joke (sadly true), if you are a tourist and got lost somewhere in Indonesia, you’ll be safe if you remember this word, because you can easily find nasi goreng almost everywhere in Indonesia. It’s an acceptable food, and tastes good (depends on the cook though. But mostly it’s good).

However, a magic word would still not be a magic if spoken in a wrong circumstance.

I lived and worked for a year in Bali, an island of paradise for foreigners, including tourists. I lived in the heart of Kuta, the most crowded tourism area, mostly occupied by young tourists from these groups: surfers, backpackers, adventurers, and them who prefer to save their bucks.

There has been a narrow alley called Poppies Lane 1 (there is also Poppies 2), the most populated alley in Kuta. Motels, restaurants, cafes, bars, souvenir shops, surf shops, internet cafes, barber shops are here.

Bamboo Corner is one of these restaurants that serve good food with low prices. As a matter of fact, it was one of my destination places to fulfill my need for meals. Bamboo Corner hardly ever lacks of guests.

This story is told by Yu Lie, a surfer girl who shared the same boarding house (kost) with me, one of my best girl friends.

One evening Yu Lie was having a dinner at Bamboo Corner, alone, sitting on a seat of one of the tables at its terrace. A group of local girls were having a chat on the narrow alley, in front of where Yu Lie was having dinner.

Then a tourist passed by on a motorbike. It looked that one of these girls knew this person, and so she yelled at him, “Hey!”

The tourist saw the girl, and spontaneously replied, “Hey! Nasi goreng!” and continued his journey, leaving this girl and her friends in confusion.

He might have intended to say, “Apa kabar (how are you)” to her, or perhaps he just wanted to be polite saying something in Bahasa Indonesia. But oh well, he has chosen the wrong word. Happened in front of many people, including some foreigners speaking Bahasa Indonesia, this misuse of language happened to be a funny situation.

The ever-narrow Poppies Lane 1, Kuta

A language switching is probably not as bad as the misuse of words, but still, interesting. If you visit Bali and would like to see a beautiful sunset or to surf in a place called Dreamland, part of Uluwatu, along the steep road to it, you’ll find words like “POLICE IN 50 M. NO BAGUS!” or just “POLICE! NO BAGUS!”

It is said that some bad policemen like to blackmail tourists (sad though). The reason for asking some money from them is, “You are not allowed to hang around on the street wearing no cloth.” Surfers are perfect victims because they often don’t wear shirt. Even they still wear pants, topless is considered “indecent” (Give me a break, Officer. You guys give an irony to the meaning of Bali tourism. Topless boys and girls are spread on the beach). Some Brazilian surfers who didn't like this fact, sprayed these words along the road to Dreamland as warnings to their fellow surfers to beware of the police officers who can suddenly jump out in front of them in any given second.

Nasi goreng, lah!

Konde, Oh Konde...

Culture is one of Indonesian assets. As an Indonesian, I am thankful for the rich culture we inherit from our forefathers. As a matter of fact, I like the diversity of Indonesian ethnic culture and proud of it.

However, as a remain of ancient days, some irrelevancies occur in the use and applications of culture, or in a more exact meaning, the traditions. On the other hand, our seniors (i.e. the ladies and gentlemen become the foremen in our colleges or offices, the deans, our bosses, the President, the Secretary of Education, etc., or perhaps our own parents?) enjoy maintaining the complexity of some traditions.

I’d like to share one night I spent chatting with Desita, reminiscing our college years which ended up talking about “konde.” Started with a topic of Joglosemar bus that Desita hasn’t ever seen since she left this city after we graduated, we ended up talking about the graduation day.

I just realized that a hairdo had made Desita so annoyed, and since, I just realized that many of us could have felt the same way too. I didn’t feel that way because I was pretty comfortable with the hair bun my hairdresser had made.

Konde is Javanese hair bun, included in a package of traditional Javanese outfit.

We ended up concluding we hate the outfit we were wearing. We concluded the outfit and the stuffs we had to do were annoying.

This is what I’ve discussed with Desita (with some editing of course, cuz you know how messed up a conversation on Yahoo Messenger or any chat room could be).

Desita : We graduated on the same day, didn’t we? :D

Me : I think so, didn't we? Yeah, you sat on the first seat on the right, cuz you had the highest GPA!

Desita : No way…it was Vilia! :P

Me : Oh, it was her!

Desita : I only had 3.2

Me : Oh, you sat next to me! Yeah…I just had 3.27. You had 3.29.

Desita : Slightly different. Like butter and margarine.

Me : Yeah

Desita : See? Hu uh.

Me : But we had to sit in order, so we did in order, though the difference was just 0.2. We can’t sit on each other’s lap! :D I forgot who sat on my left though.

Desita : You should have gained 3.30. So you would have sat on my right, the first seat.

Me : Why? So I would get the first cake?

Desita : So you would have been pictured first!

Me : Oh! Yeah… but thankfully I wasn’t! It wasn’t a perfect moment to be pictured. I hated to be pictured on graduation day.

Desita : I hated my konde. I really hated it.

Me : It was damn ugly.

Desita : I hate the ibu-ibu in salon who made it.

Me : I hate my toga (toga = academic gown, according to Desita). I wanted to take off my toga, it was damn a hot July afternoon

Desita : I don't really like my konde on my wedding either but I really love the make up :D. I love my muka (muka: face).

Me : Yeah, you always look good in Javanese make up anyway.

Desita : It depends on the make up artist too. Wish the mbak-mbak who did my make up on my wedding was the same person did my make up on graduation day. ;))))))))))))))))))))))

Me : I ordered a hair bun, but not really a konde. Maybe she just twisted my hair. That’s why I looked cute, didn’t I?

Desita : Ya yaaaaaaa. Wish i could turn back time. I also ordered a “cepol” (cepol: a small piece of hair bun), but the lady didn’t seem really understand.

(Duh! If I could turn back time, I would try to get a scholarship to Singapore's Nanyang University. Wondered why I didn't even think of it.)

Me : But I hated the toga and the hat, I think it made us look like clowns.

Desita : We were clowns!

Me : I mean, get real, toga is definitely not women's outfit! So why did we have to wear kebaya and konde?

Desita : Everywhere in Indonesia, you have to wear kebaya and konde on your graduation day. That’s why I decided to take a Master Degree abroad. Indonesians are so into culture, Jeng, eventhough sometimes it isn’t important at all.

Me : But it’s a paradox! (I meant toga, and kebaya and konde).

Desita : That, write that on your blog!

Me : A good idea. I must scan my graduation pictures though. They weren't digital. Or perhaps you’d like to contribute yours?

Desita : Not in this life!

Me : :-)))))

Desita : I hate it with all the konde and stuff la

Me : Ha ha!

What Desita said was true, Indonesians are so into culture, eventhough sometimes it isn’t important at all. Like I said, if we had to wear toga anyway, why should we have worn kebaya (the traditional Javanese women’s blouse) inside and konde (and then we had to cover it with hat?). It’s just so confusing. I think it’s a paradox. A stupid paradox.

And what I don’t understand is, why did I wanna do it anyway?

Vilia, that girl who had the highest GPA, she didn’t make a hair bun! She just loosened her hair and wore outfit as if she was a Chinese princess.

Perhaps you won’t understand what we felt—if you don’t experience it, that we finally admit it was one of the worst moments of our college years--to be in an uncomfortable traditional blouse, a tight batik skirt, and put on a heavy, thick academic gown outside and put on a stupid hat. I even wished I could skip the graduation if only I didn’t remember I needed the diploma and to be pictured with my classmates!

Anyway, a picture of me and my girl friends might help you figure out what kind of torture we were going through. If a picture paints a thousand words, this picture even tells you a million. It was as if we were punished for a crime we never committed.

I am on the left, and Desita is that girl on the right.
(Click the picture to see a larger image)

Somewhow I must apologize to Desita for finally revealing the secret we have been keeping for years (we never wanted to remind that stupid konde and toga), revealing the ugliest performance we ever made, the most sweating day of our college years.