The World of a Squid

Day 2. Reminiscing The Old Days

2009-01-20T12:47:00.007+07:00

We started the day a bit late. Not so late that we didn’t have breakfast. No, not that late. We did have breakfast, and that was the time I knew the food in this hotel is also as good as the service.

Both of us had nasi goreng (fried rice – fly lice? No, it’s a Canadian joke), bakmi goreng (fried noodles), extra delicious fried bacon, chicken porridge, and smoked ham. Joe had danish and some other food I don’t remember. I had salad. He had coffee, and I had tea.

The second day in Bali, and practically the first morning I woke up in the Bali mist, nothing I wanted more than just reminiscing my old days in the island – reminiscing the streets I used to walk on, shops I used to shop in, stuffs I used to buy, restaurants I used to eat in, places I used to go to on weekends—and so, that was what we did.

Deciding to be a batik couple in Bali—we thought it would be a great idea, such a complexity: a Canadian and a Javanese in Bali, wearing batik, keeping Yens—we took a taxi to Kuta (of course the hotel provides a shuttle bus to Kuta, but of course we were late!) we decided just to stop somewhere in Kuta, perhaps the monument. But on our way there, we realized that we had been already starving again, and so we decided to just have lunch before anything else.

So, I thought of just stick to the plan, stop somewhere in Kuta and enter any restaurant, but, as the taxi passing Sunset Road, and I saw Jalan Kunti, I suddenly shouted to the driver, “Pak! Ke Jalan Kunti aja, deh, maaf.” And so the driver turned around his taxi and took us to Jalan Kunti, Seminyak, a narrow street where Bali Deli, Elysian Villa, and some restaurants and fashion boutiques are found. A nice area. I knew where we should eat.

I asked the taxi driver to drop us in front of Warung Italia. We were not going to have lunch there, no matter how much I wanted to. We walked passed the Italian restaurant, with its landmark, the Italian flag. Not going to see Antonio and his super delicious spaghetti carbonara this time.

And I found the restaurant. Cabe Rawit. Yanti told me to try this restaurant. So we seated. A series of lunch including appetizer: Lumpia Semarang, main course: sate campur (assorted satays): chicken, beef, mouton, and pork with lontong, Sundanese nasi timbel complete with sambal, lalap (raw vegetables) and ikan asin goreng (fried dried fish), snack: tempe mendoan, dessert: es campur. Green tea for me and beer for Joe.

We were so starving and so greedy that we had no idea of how big the dish would be. First, we ate lumpia. Before we cut the lumpias, I said to my sweetheart, “I can criticize if these lumpias aren’t good, I have the right to do it, because I’m from Semarang.” Lumpia Semarang is undeniably delicious.

The assorted satays were delicious, as well as the peanut sauce. And the lontong. And then nasi timbel, and es campur. Despite the “wrong” lumpia, the meal was good.

We decided to take a walk along Seminyak to Kuta. I knew it sounds crazy, as a matter of fact, I had known the idea might sound insane. But, I wanted to! Who wanted to take a taxi in a super crowded road, trapped in a macet a.k.a traffic jam (it was holiday!), and it was what exactly happened! We watched people trapped in their cars, taxis, motorbikes, and scooters while we walked freely. We felt sorry for them, despite the fact we were sweating.

The streets were the same, only I saw Jalan Nakula is now wider than it was on the last day I was in Bali. And traffic jam in Jalan Abimanyu, was I supposed to be surprise?

It was probably after 10 K walking before we finally reached the First Bali Bomb Monument. I told Joe to check if he knew one of the Canadian victims. Gladly, none of them he knew. Then we rested in Vi-Ai-Pi Bar, seated on its veranda on the second floor. After drink up a large bottle of Evian, Joe and I continued our walking to the beach before the sun set.

We sat on the sand, the sky was gloomy and the beach was full of holiday people. Kuta beach was dirty. Trashes were everywhere we could see along the beach. There were probably a beach storm swept out the fishes and seaweeds and everything you could find. Ladies offering for nail art, foot massage and clamshell necklaces came surround us, and eventhough we weren’t interested at all and just wanted to enjoy the beach and the sunset, they talked to us and told us jokes.

The beach I used to go to almost everyday, morning before work and evening after work, and on the weekends. The sand I used to sit on, watching the sun set in the west before finally disappeared in the ocean, while surfers would jump out of the water soon after. I came back, only that time I wasn’t alone. Not waiting for my housemate, Julie, coming out of the water bringing her surfboard. I was there with my sweetheart, as tourists, waited for none.

After the sky got dark we decided to walk, barefooted, along the beach to Discovery Shopping Mall, a mall by the beach. We did plan to jut walk barefooted, and would wash our feet in the toilet, so that was exactly we did. The first thing we looked for was the mall’s toilet. I was sure that it must have been behind the shoes section, and even if the shoes section had been moved, the toilet would surely not been moved! “It would be a pain in a** to move a toilet,” I told my Love. And so, it was still the same place like the last time I saw. Then, the next thing we said to each other was “See you in 15 minutes.” With an addition from me, “And if you’re thirsty while you’re waiting for me, you can have a cup of water,” pointing at a water dispenser in the corner of the ladies toilet’s door.

Obviously I spent time washing my dirty feet much longer than 15 minutes. And I surely had messed the toilet.

Back to the hotel after Joe shopped for “buy-one-get-one-free” shirt and short, we were as exhausted as anyone could say, and rain poured down that we decided to have a dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. A bowl of Tom Yum Goong and a plate of satay for Joe. We had to discuss how we could go to Ubud the next day.

Returned To The Land Of Gods

2009-01-16T21:14:00.010+07:00

Finally. Back to Bali. How I have missed this place since I left it almost three years ago. Six days I spent in this island we call “The Land of Gods”, back to the beaches, the sunset, the crowd, the night life, the culture, in my Christmas and New Year holiday, together with my beloved one, Joe. Here are the remains of the holiday journal.

December 26, 2008.
The Departure : Merapi – Bromo Crater – Bali Strait tour included.

December 26, some people call it boxing day. After two months of preparation, one week of heartbeat, one year of saving (tried as much not to disturb the vacation investment), one and a half day of packing, I finally headed to Jogja, my first gate to the final destination, Bali.

I could feel the atmosphere from the festive event, a day before. Christmas decorations were still hanging, the cards, the cookies, greetings. My bus departed early in the morning, 7.15. I continued my sleep. I barely slept the night before, I woke up at 3 AM, and decided not to go back to sleep.

I looked at my watch as the bus stopped at the bus station. It was 9.40 AM. It would take me only 15 minutes to the airport. I had no idea what I could possibly do in 2.5 hours waiting in the boarding hall, before I would board the plane. I’ve got a boarding pass in my hand, as I checked in the city the day before. Number 7A. Lucky number. I thought it was a good sign.

I canceled the taxi I was going to take, soon after the driver told me the taxi didn’t use meter. He tried to charge me IDR 70,000 to the airport. I said, “Gimme a break. I know Jogja.” I bargained but he didn’t give me a good price, so I decided just to walk a bit and look for a taxi with meter.

Before I stepped any further, a young man offered a motorbike ride. “Sudah, naik ojek saja, Mbak. Saya anter ke airport. Cuma tiga puluh ribu.” He offered me IDR 30,000 as an airport transfer fee. I considered it not bad, as he would carry my suitcase. So, I took the “ojek” ride.

The ojek rider offered me to buy some snacks before I board. But I didn’t think I need snacks. However, he gave me an idea of spending time a bit in Jogja. So, I asked him if he could take me to Jalan Malioboro.

My only destination was Batik Margaria, a shop in the row of hundred of shops in Jalan Malioboro. I saw nice batik ties there several months ago. I thought I might get one for Joe.

And so I did. Instead of one, I took two of which patterns I thought were nicest among all beautiful patterns. One of “udan riris” and another one of “parang” (probably "parang klithik"). I asked the cashier lady to wrap, inserted a greeting card, paid, and got out the shop.

I came to Adisutjipto International Airport around 11 AM, put my only baggage, entered the boarding hall, and waited. Excited and nervous were mixed as I waited in the boarding hall. Joe and I sent text messages to each other and I called my mom.

There were only once or twice in my life though, I didn’t sit on the window seat. And this time, I also had the window seat. I was glad that I could see Bromo crater again, an amazing, amazing view to me. And also the Bali strait. There’s something about Bali strait I’ve always been interested in. It’s green, not deep, and sometimes I can see fishes jump out of the water. And… one thing that’s always been my attraction, is whenever the plane is going to land. It’s good to see Tuban beach from above. I always tell myself, “Ah, that’s the airport.” Literally. Once, the plane bends its body, before you know, you have been able to feel the ground and the next thing you know is that you have landed in Ngurah Rai International Airport.

And the feeling, an indescribable feeling infiltrated my chest (now I become so poetic), and it was that indescribable feeling I felt when I knew the plane landed. Oh, here I come.

The salty air, the hot weather, woken me up that I was really in Bali. As I stepped down the stairs, I could smell the salty and fishy air of Tuban beach, where the airport lies. “Bali, here I am again.”

The airport was still as nice as the last time I was there. Yet, bigger now, which is a good thing.

The smiles of the stewardesses, the tired yet happy looks on the tourists, the impatience of people waiting for their luggage, were nothing to me, compared to my excitement awaiting for me in a matter of seconds.

I got all I had, walked out the exit door, stood there. One second, two, three, my sweetheart hadn’t arrived. And in a moment I turned my head around, and there, I saw him walking, breaking in the crowd, towards me. I waved at him, and he smiled. I was so happy to see him.

Joe got the blue taxi waited for us. The driver was a happy middle-aged chap, talking to my sweetheart all the way from Kerobokan to the airport.

The roads, the streets, the scent of offerings and frangipani flowers, the accent of locals, reminded me of the year I was there. Except that I was surprised to see a complex of synagogues for three religions – a Hindu temple, a Protestant church, and a mosque, built close to each other, in a piece of land near the airport, Tuban.

Joe said that there were traffic jams. I guessed the holiday season was there! People had been coming to Bali waiting for the last day of 2008 and the first day of 2009. Another fact to remind me that I was in Bali!

I had never been or seen Grand Balisani Suites. Heard of it many times, but that was all. I knew its location in Kerobokan just after Joe confirmed about the hotel we were going to stay. Batubelig, Kerobokan, not bad at all, in fact, I long had liked Kerobokan area.

So I passed the street again. Sunset Road, then the Seminyak junction, Australia International School, Enchanted Books, the bookshop I’ve always wanted to show to Joe, and then the Kerobokan junction. That internet café, that Jenny’s Warung, and we stopped in a hotel by the beach.

We arrived at the hotel at last, a resort by the beach. Grand Balisani Suites. Peacefulness and friendliness were the first impressions I had as I got out of the taxi. Furthermore, I liked the room. We had a deluxe garden view suite. No beach we could see from the balcony, but frangipani and coconut trees were in front of our eyes. A spacious bathroom with shower and a bath tub was as nice as the room. I was sure that I would enjoy my stay there right away.

The hotel, Grand Balisani Suites, Batubelig, Kerobokan

The tranquil beach of Batubelig

Ku De Ta

Being together with your sweetheart, what more could you want than having a romantic dinner at Ku De Ta, watching the sun sets in the sea from your table?

And that was what we had wanted, and so that we had made plan, and I had reserved a table at Ku De Ta since the beginning of December. Five PM, as we had wanted to see the sunset before going inside for a dinner.

But what could you possibly do when you’re with the one you love most? Time is never enough. We didn’t want to leave, even for a fabulous dinner in a (perhaps even the most) fabulous restaurant and club in Bali. So I called Ku De Ta to delay our reservation, said that we were coming at 7.00 pm.

So, lazily, I hopped in the shower, then get dressed, did my hair (thanks to my Mom who had taught me how to make a simple and easy hair bun), made up my face, and the most important and prepared: that batik gown. Oh, how I love my batik gown so much.

I grabbed my clutch, wore my shoes, locked the room door, all in a rush as I saw my watch was 10 minutes to 7. And almost running I went downstairs to the lobby where Joe had been waiting for me.

My mom is great. My sweetheart looked at me, speechlessly. I was sure that I was blushing. And we were sure that we wouldn’t make it to Ku De Ta on time. And so I called Ku De Ta once more, trying to delay our reservation 15 minutes later. But no, the reservation lady said. They would not be able to receive any reservation later than 7pm, as they were fully occupied at that moment. And so I had to make an excuse, that our taxi was a bit late and begged them to wait for us another 10 minutes.

Glad that we made it there and seated. I was so glad that they didn’t say, “We’re sorry, we don’t have a table anymore because you were late,” as I saw the restaurant was full. We had perhaps the last empty table.

So, we had those unbelievably extra delicious, tuna steak for me, and lamb steak for my sweetheart. And though I mentioned just ‘tuna steak’ and ‘lamb steak’, they weren’t just tuna steak or just lamb steak. They were incredibly delicious, I can’t express in words. So, I forgot the names of the food we ate, and also what we drank, other than we drank two glasses of a light-alcoholic drink, and Joe had something with chili. Chili! Yes. I’m not kidding. It was really chili. And yes, so I forgot the names of the food and drinks we had on our date, but they were absolutely worth it for above average prices.

So we didn’t get the sunset, but the sea was still beautiful. So after dinner we went down to the beach in the backyard, walked along it, and acted as if we were high school lovers. The breeze blew our hair, and then we didn't care our feet were dirty because of the wet sand, and that the air contained water that could pour anytime in a December evening, we did what the other people were doing, gathering, talking and drinking in the friendly, trendy backyard of Ku De Ta, before finally leaving the most fabulous and trendy club in the island where we had dinner probably worth of two nights stay in a decent hotel.

What a nice way to start a holiday. Nothing could be better. And that was only the beginning.

Counting Down To July 31st

2008-07-30T16:00:00.005+07:00

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!

2008-07-09T00:56:00.002+07:00

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

2008-06-07T14:28:00.006+07:00

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

2008-05-28T14:50:00.008+07:00

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

2008-05-19T21:34:00.013+07:00

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

2008-04-13T12:58:00.004+07:00

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

2008-04-03T21:14:00.017+07:00

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!

2008-03-23T22:04:00.017+07:00

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

2008-03-22T23:08:00.013+07:00

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!"

2008-02-10T21:58:00.002+07:00

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...

2008-02-04T20:24:00.000+07:00

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.

Oh Sistas, Where Art Thou?

2008-01-31T08:57:00.000+07:00

Most of my blog posts are about me and myself and the world related to me. Once in a while, I remember my dear friends, with whom I share these laugh and tears. I want to share their stories.

Mimay

I always hate Monday. It’s classic, or even cliché, but I do hate Monday. Monday brings me back the routines, the schedule, the weekly meeting, the phone rings, the e-mails, the letters, after two days of peace being myself.

This Monday, instead of being drowned into the hatred for Monday, I’m pleased to surf Mimay’s blog.

She’s still the most photogenic girl I’ve ever known (I’m not gonna compare her to Agnes Monica, or even Paris Hilton. She’s the most common-not-from-celebrity-world photogenic person I know), though I would never forget one Saturday when I went out with Mba Penny, Kak Jamur and Kak Ira, we met her somewhere and hang around Jakarta and when we finally dropped her in front of her boarding house she confessed that she hadn’t take any shower that day!

One thing that I like from her blog is, it’s so girly. It’s so feminine. I’m not talking about a blink-blink page with pink hearts and purple butterflies spread all over. It’s about the writings.

I think the world needs a straight, honest blog, with which you don’t have to pretend you’re tough, or bother too much of being a Fun Fearless Female. A blog that wouldn’t encourage you to pretend you don’t care about things called the BIG ‘L’, or that you have to smile while writing ‘3’ in front of another number in the ‘age’ box in a filling form, or dreaming of a diamond ring or a white knight in a shining armor trying to save you from the questions from your family and friends. You don’t have to pretend you won’t turn to someone like Matt Damon (?), or in my version, Wentworth Miller.

You don’t know what you got till it’s gone.

I like that idea, Mbak Mimay. But in some cases, it’s not us who don’t know what we’ve got. Some cases involve stupid guys (sowy, my male friends…) who don’t know what they’ve got till it’s really gone. Some guys don’t realize that they’ve hold one of the best things in life, instead, they just abandon it. Even in that case, we, the women (praise the Lord to have created such a character) still wondering, have we not preserved it well.

Popin

Popin is the petit girl that has never rejected my invitation to go anywhere or to do anything for weekend, except when she was catching a cold. Recently, she’s the most “invitable” person around.

We went to Chinatown last weekend, having a Chinatown dinner. I had Singaporean noodles and she had her dish consisted of roasted pig’s ear and pig’s intestine (it didn’t look as bad as it’s heard).

Popin issued two announcements. First, she’s just had a new boyfriend (congratulations!). Second, she’d be unemployed as per February 1, 2008.

Popin has spent 5 years with the company she’s been working for. Lately she thought she’s been exhausted and I think she has. I could see how the company had occupied her so much even on holiday season, when she had to organize things and contribute much of her energy, on December 26 and 31 (!).

It might seem unwise to leave a job before you got another. But there are some things in life that you can’t compromise and you can’t take anymore. In Popin’s case, where she’s been loyal and dedicating most of her time and skill for the company, and when the company is unable to see that, keeping it is not wiser than leaving it.

Well…I can’t say how long she’ll be unemployed, neither can her, neither can anybody alive and dead. All I can say is, I wish her the best. I know she’s considered what’s best for her. I just believe that there must be something good for her, an architect who has experienced in designing houses.

Clara

January 29 was Clara’s birthday. Happy birthday, my dear Clara!

Back to my old days in Bali, Clara used to be the girl with bob hair, mocked by the guys (not in a bad way though, just in a sense of friendship), either it had something to do with Mas Yudi or just called ‘ndut’ (usually Fei did this, though Clara wasn’t fat).

Clara loved so much to be in Bahiana. She was pleased to have her first salsa lesson with Ben. She mamboed, she twisted, and she was bent. And like I did, she loved to have a dinner at Warung Italia! A dish of spaghetti carbonara (too bad Antonio didn’t serve fettuccini), a scoop of salad, a piece of cuzione bread for dessert. Just like Mas Yudi, Clara loved to have “Soto Ceker” close to our office building complex for lunch. And yet, sometimes she liked the unhealthy lunch of “nasi jinggo” sold by a vendor passed by our building complex (dear, I really missed those unhealthy things a lot now!). But nothing can beat her love for Siobak Singaraja in Denpasar!

Many times she called herself “coward”, because she said she had no courage to tell her boss what was in her mind (hey, Clara, I think you have a companion here).

Moments with Clara that I’d never forget was the “Clara dan Ketek” (Clara and the armpit), a series of incidents she experienced with our dearest Shigetada Suzuki. Dear…how could I retell those incidents? It has taken all of our pities, laughs, and tears (tears of laughing).

So, Clara is now safe in her hometown, Bandung euy, never forget the pin she sent to me when I went home. I love that pink flower, I love to pin it on my green blazer or my black denim jacket.

Miss Ya Sistas

Life sometimes can be so hard and so harsh and so confusing, but if you have someone to talk to, at least some questions are answered or ideas pop out. And I was lucky I had not only one, I had these good guys to give plenty ideas I needed.

Thanks Mba Mimay for the girly, feminine encouragement. You’re still the most stylish person I know. Yeah, so you’re 57 now? Wow, I must have fallen asleep for 22 years!

Bunch of thanks Clara sista for being there for me in the foodcourt benches, spending hours eating, drinking, talking, browsing and chatting on the internet, and building this circle of friends—these dearest guys of the Foodcourt Club, 8 regular members, 14 or more extended—waiting for me to come on Sunday morning to go to church together, never forget that, and looking forward to another night at Bahiana. 26 are you now, dear? What has your Abang sent for your present? Well, I wish you all the best and lotsa love.

And Tante Po, though you're just 2 blocks away from my house, I wish you good luck for a brave new step you're gonna make in life. Thanks a heap for always available for any jalan-jalan on the weekend. And for any Saturday afternoon messing up my bed for hours sipping cups of coffee, talking about Christian Bale and Stereophonics and Ugly Betty and Won Bin and whether Cesc Fabregas never would come home to Spain and whatever topic girls may talk.

Resolutions 2008

2008-01-15T07:00:00.000+07:00

Andik reminded me, "New Year just a week passed. Hope we start it well."

Til he said so, I hadn't remember that I should have.

When I attended the midnight service on the new year's eve, I made some wishes, some of which were "too personal" to publish (sorry...), and yet, I want to post some so I'd never forget to work on. It's day 15 now,but I think it is not too late to remind ourselves of what we've wished for the whole year. Like everyone else has done. Resolutions, the more common term.

A Scholarship

Back to college has always been my dream that hasnt come true. I don't really take a degree so important, what's more important to me is "studying something". I'd like to learn something new, explore a new place, new culture.... Europe is still my dream, or maybe The States, but I don’t think I really want down under.

Another Career

A bored person? I am. I'll never give up til I get my dream career (which I don't know which one). I still want to work for others, like feeding the children, working for the poors, working without making any profit. Selling, marketing, promotions... these things are getting boring.

And I still want to be a writer! One thing that I'll never forget. I want to write for National Geographic, visiting Egypt and seek if there are undiscovered remains of Queen Nefertiti's. Or exploring Peru, digging Peruvian ancient civilization, and later climbing up villages in Nepal. So...I think if there's one perfect combination for these dreams it should be working as a researcher for UNICEF collaborating with National Geographic, doing a research about Nepalese children, writing the research, and publish it on National Geographic Magazine. Or vice versa. Writing for National Geographic, involved in the Machu Picchu project supported by The UNESCO. Aha! ;)

Dreams... dreams. I am a dreamer, but I'll never stop making my dreams come true.

Publishing My Book

Been writing...two blogs, a thesis, a couple of unfinished novels, a dozen of 8 pages short stories...Sent any to publishers? One. To magazines? Some. Published? None (except the ones with BITE Magazine, no wonder laa...).

My fantasy novel, basic idea written when I was in high school, a well-known Indonesian publishing company might categorize as "teen literature", returned it after I rewrote it for months.

I'm not giving up! I'll never give up until I publish one book. And I want this year to be my initial year of my writing career. I'm writing another novel, and I hope I can publish it this year.

A Holiday

I need a holiday! Bali is a good choice to have a relax time, escaping from daily routines, no phonecalls, no fax, no e-mails, no orders. Reminiscing the days I spent with the foodcourt club - Clara, Fei, Andik, Ewy, Mas Yudi, Yu Lie, Shige, Kohei, and Haru, sometimes Farid and Benny - hope I can make it this year!

Oh, and Aceh! I want to see this place. I want to visit Mba Penny and see how she deals with the social life, the working culture, and the locals. Might not be something really important, but I'd like to do it, just to know how life is in this controversial region.

TOEFL and IELTS Scores

I must renew them. I must. It's been...3 years? No university will accept expired TOEFL or IELTS scores. So I'll take them.

Relationships

Want to have better relationships with everyone. I want nothing ruins my relationships with my friends, best friends, co-workers, networks, family (mum, cousins, aunties, uncles), neighbours, and want to mend any broken relationship in the past (like with...ex?! No).

Romantic relationship? Hehe. I guess everybody's wishing for it. But...if I have to talk about it, it could be one single blog title. So, it's better to save it for the next feature. But honestly, I only wished for the good things in relationship I'm in.

There must be some other things - if I search deep inside - been my wishes, but I guess those things are part of my daily wishes (to come to the office safe and sound, come home safe and sound, not eating too much, got enough time to breathe, things like these). Those are my new year's wishes, and I post these wishes on my blog to remind me that I should not stop running for them.

Some wishes need resolution to make them true. Some beyond human power. But I'm reading Rhonda Byrne's The Secret, the book speaks about the power of dream, the power of thinking positively. The universe never hears the negative atributes, like 'not', 'do not', 'never', etc. The universe hears only the positive words. So I guess if we tell the universe everything we wish for, by telling our hearts saying no negative word, the universe will work for us, to make our dreams come true. We still got 351 days!

Happy New Year 2008!

Bright Lights

2008-01-14T23:46:00.000+07:00

Bright Lights

- Matchbox Twenty -

she got out of town

on a railway new york bound

took all except my name

another alien on broadway

there's some things in this world

you just can't change

some things you can't see

until it gets too late

baby, baby, baby

when all your love is gone

who will save me

from all i'm up against out in this world

maybe, maybe, maybe

you'll find something

that's enough to please you

but if the bright lights don't receive you

you can turn yourself around

and come on home

i got a hole in me now

i got a scar i can talk about

she keeps a picture of me

in her apartment in the city

some things in this world

they don't make sense

some things you don't need

until they leave you

and they're things that you miss

[chorus]

let that city take you in

let that city spit you out

let that city take you down

for god's sake turn around

Lord...I'm Tired

2008-01-12T06:42:00.000+07:00

Lord...I'm tired of faking this smile
I'm tired of taking care of these demanding people
I'm tired of doing this complicated work
I'm tired with this feudalism and bullshitism

Lord...I'm tired of convincing people I'll be fine
That I only need time
I'm tired of telling myself everything's gonna be okay

Lord...I wont mind having these hard days
Just to touch the face of an angel
Lying down on the sand, feeling the breeze
And assure myself he knows that I care about him

Lord...I dont tell you everyday what I wish for
But I'm sure You've known before I do

Lord...You've made this earth so big
I wish You could make it smaller
And everything's easier

JOGJA...JOGJA!

2008-01-10T10:53:00.000+07:00

Finally, after delayed for at least three times, I made it to Jogja…!!! This time no sleepover, no waking up early in the morning and taking a walk along Sosrowijayan Street getting a pack of Nasi Gudeg, watching early vendors getting ready to sell their items. No giggling with friends in any ‘warung lesehan’ along Malioboro Street til late at night. I was alone! It was a one-woman-show.

JOGLOSEMAR: JOGJA-SOLO-SEMARANG

I left home as early as 5.40 AM. This Bus JOGLOSEMAR departed at 6.05 AM. I promised my friend, Desita Terbritish Abish (The-Britishest-Ever Desita), to take a pic of this bus because she said she had never seen it, but I forgot to do it because I saw no ‘JOGLOSEMAR’ written on both sides of the bus, instead, I found “Bus Pariwisata” written on its both sides, which made it no difference from the other tourism buses, except that this bus is smaller in size. Desi…! I’m sorry, Bune!

JOGLOSEMAR is a tourist bus with destinations to and from Jogja-Solo-Semarang. However, the route is divided into three: to and from Jogja-Semarang, to and from Jogja-Solo, and to and from Semarang-Solo. I don’t remember when exactly this bus was launched, but I remember when a friend, Ben Clanchy a.k.a. Pak Satir visited my city in May 2005—just three days before I moved to Bali—and was going to continue his trip to Jogja, I reserved him this bus and it was new.

I didn’t know where to stop. I just knew that the place I was going to was Ngaglik, Sleman. I had never been to Sleman. I just knew that this place was a part of Jogja.

Anyway, after two long days at work, waking up and leaving home so early made me sooo sleepy. I slept all the way to Sleman. Thanks to the nice stewardess, she woke me up just before the bus reached the Ngaglik Junction. She said I should stop there, and take left to Nganglik.

And so, I didn’t know where to go. I was going to take any taxi, but it looked that I can hardly get a taxi. There were some ‘tukang ojeks’ (motorbike taxi riders) ready to deliver you anywhere, and I told one of them if he could take me to this place I had to go. So after searching for a confusing address (no number, just the street and the name of the building) for about 10 minutes or so, the Mas Tukang Ojek finally dropped me in a nice house with a Javanese architecture, five minutes before 9 in the morning. Gosh…I felt like I was in The Amazing Race, taking a Road Block task.

The building itself was so nice and comfy. Located in a suburb of Sleman, facing a paddy field, I like the breeze blowing from the trees surrounding the building.

I’ve done my things in 1.5 hours, and off to AmPlas (Ambarukmo Plaza). I was hungry and this was the only place crossed in my mind of where to get lunch. So I took a comfy place close to the window on the mall’s foodcourt on the third floor, having a dish of Chicken Curry with rice which was not as good as Akbar’s Tandoori’s at Plaza Senayan (Akbar, I miss your curry and massala tea!) and a cup of Thai Tea which was excellently good. Yeah, I was a bit disappointed with the chicken curry which I considered a bit too salty and yet not so tasty and not so spicy (curry must have much coriander and whatever other spices), but I really liked the Thai Tea which was a bit similar to Indian massala tea.

I’d had enough with my lunch so I continued observing the mall. I like AmPlas and that was the second time for me. I found an outlet which used to be one of my favorites in Jakarta (because of the low price and the nice designs), Number 61. So I entered this outlet and took some cute stuffs to be added in my wardrobe.

MALIOBORO
I’m a girl. A trip is never really a trip without shopping. A trip is a good reason for spending your money on shopping. And to me, every vacation is a moment to be myself—eating my favorite food, seeing things I want to see, and buying things I want to buy.

I left AmPlas and continued my trip to Malioboro Street. I missed this place, no matter how different it was than years ago when I used to walk with my Dad and Mum and bought those unimportant things—clamp necklaces, wooden bracelets, key rings, carved sandals.

I’ve been here for hundreds of time. Twenty to ten years ago, I used to come with my parents, and sometimes with my cousins. And then I came with my classmates. And since my Dad passed away, I came only with my mum. And now I did it only by myself. Hmm…things changed. And guess life changes.

It was a real struggle to Mirota Batik, my mum’s favorite place. I don’t know why is this place always be the first place she thinks of. She always says “I’ll meet you in Mirota Batik,” or “Let’s search some things in Mirota Batik”. But it did give me an impact. I walked along 300 meters or so on high heels and a skirt from the starting point of Malioboro Street to this spacious store with a “Mirota Batik” banner outside, just to find one thing or two as presents to I-don’t-know-who-yet.

The owner of Mirota Batik has a brilliant idea to present all the stuffs of Javanese culture in one store. Batik fabrics, handycrafts, wayangs (Indian-Javanese puppets), paintings, traditional herbs beverages called ‘jamu’, traditional delis, Javanese coffees, Javanese tea, even Javanese Chocolate (!), Monggo Chocolate. I think the best corner of this store is the corner where a Javanese lady wearing traditional Javanese outfits sitting on her bended knees, painting batik fabrics using ‘canting’ complete with the boiling wax in a pan on a small stove, various plant seeds as the natural color ingredients in bottles. It’s said that a person won’t finish this work in less than one month, just for a 2 meters piece of fabric. What a patience. Anyway, I like the smile of this 'ibu-ibu' when I asked for her permission to take a picture of her. (Desi, does her 'konde' remind you of something?)

Releasing myself from the crowd of Mirota Batik, I continued seeking cute stuffs in Malioboro Street. My favorite moment in Malioboro is always the time I bargain half or one third of the price and I win it!

TOURISTS
One thing that surprised me was, not many tourists in Jogja! I’m wondering if it was an impact of the political crisis in 1998 followed by riots, and then the first Bali Bombing in 2002 and again, the second in 2005, and not to mention the Tsunami Disaster in Aceh and North Sumatera in end of 2004? But I mean, wow! What an impact. What is Jogja without tourists? What is Malioboro without foreign shoppers? What is Sosrowijayan without backpackers?

Sosrowijayan! I remember spending my nights here with my parents and my cousins when my Dad was still around. Watching the backpackers, becaks, old-skool bicycles passing by, getting an early morning breakfast from an ‘ibu-ibu’ selling nasi gudeg Jogja complete with a piece of chicken’s breast or wing or head, super-tasty coconut milk, spicy sambal goreng and a piece of cassava (yes, cassavas in gudeg!), wrapped in a piece of banana leaf.

Across from our hotel was a narrow alley I never knew the name. There was “Superman Bar and Restaurant”, a quite spacious place where we used to have our lunches and dinners. Here I met a person who looked like Stephan Jenkins, my favorite celeb of those years, the lead vocal of Third Eye Blind. I remember looking at that face, and just when he realized I was looking at him, his pretty girlfriend showed up. :P

I left Jogja at 7.59 PM (according to the clock of Joglosemar Bus. Man…this bus is so punctual). It’s always been a nice trip to Jogja, even when I had to do it alone. Eleven hours in Jogja and I went home, seeing my beloved faces, watching the last episode of this season’s Ugly Betty (which wasn’t a good ending…what will happen to Santos?), crawling up my dearest bed and pillows, sleeping, and having a day off today!

Set The Fire To The Third Bar

2008-01-06T17:39:00.000+07:00

Here's the lyric of a very nice song by Snow Patrol featuring Martha Wainwright. Listen up to the song and catch the lyric as it is very deep and that Gary Lightbody and Martha Wainwright had made such a good collaboration.

Set The Fire To The Third Bar

Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright

I find the map and draw a straight line
Over rivers, farms, and state lines
The distance from 'A' to where you'd be
It's only finger-lengths that I see
I touch the place where I'd find your face
My finger in creases of distant dark places

I hang my coat up in the first bar
There is no peace that I've found so far
The laughter penetrates my silence
As drunken men find flaws in science

Their words mostly noises
Ghosts with just voices
Your words in my memory
Are like music to me

I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground I,
I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms

After I have traveled so far
We'd set the fire to the third bar
We'd share each other like an island
Until exhausted, close our eyelids

And dreaming, pick up from
The last place we left off
Your soft skin is weeping
A joy you can't keep in

I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground
And I, I pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms

I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground and I,
I pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms

The World Of A Squid

2008-01-06T16:54:00.000+07:00

Welcome to The World of a Squid.

You might ask, why I give a name after that mollusks marine creature. Well...to be honest, it's only a name. But, to be very honest again...there's a meaning behind the name.

Squid in Japanese is 'Ika', and Ika is my real name. And why I chose 'squid' instead of any other meaning related to 'Ika' ? Squid was definitely not what my parents wanted me to be.

Ika is originally a sanskrit word

(săn'skrĭt') An ancient Indic language that is the language of Hinduism and the Vedas and is the classical literary language of India (answers.com)

Though I cant tell you the web source that could explain the meaning of 'Ika' in Sanskrit, but my parents believed that 'Ika' means 'One', which is more to 'The Only' rather than 'one' in numerical order. As a matter of fact, I'm the only child of my family (sad...).

This is what Kabalarians.com tells me about my name:

1.Although the name Ika creates the urge to be creative and original, we point out that is causes frustration through a scattered and emotional nature

2.This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the liver, bloodstream, and in tension or accidents to the head.

3.Your first name of Ika has made you a friendly, approachable, and generous person.

4.Generally you are good-natured, though at times you can be blunt and sarcastic. (me: hmmm…)

5.As you are naturally talkative (!), you find it easy to meet and make friends with many people.

6.This name inclines you to be sympathetic and generous to those in difficult or unfortunate circumstances.

7.You can be firm, positive, and independent in your own ideas and in reaching your own decisions, yet when it comes to taking action or following things through to completion, you often need encouragement.

8.You respond quickly to kind words or any appreciation shown you.

9.There are artistic, creative abilities in this name that you could express through music or singing, or, in a practical way, through sewing or interior decorating

I absolutely agree and like the ideas of point #1,3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8, although I have to reflect myself with the idea shown in pt #4, especially with the statement that I can be blunt and sarcastic.

Point #9 gives me a question। Well…I mean I know that I’m artistic and creative, but I don’t think that I can express it through music and singing, despite the fact that I was a member of the church youth choir, and that my music expression is that I love different kinds of music except dangdut and hardcore and heavy metal, but that’s all. I cannot make music. I just listen to it. I think my only artistic expression is that I can arrange words into a composition which then make a story. This blog might be an example.

And pt#2…hmm… I don’t know much about my own health except that I never had a hypertension and I can have headache easily especially if I don’t eat.

This is what you find when you search ‘ika’ on wikipedia
ika is a basic game engine platform for Windows and Linux. ika was all but discontinued at one point, but a rise in interest has lead the developers to begin working towards a new version. The latest released version of the game engine is version 0.62, which uses Python 2.5

In the same time, you can find a package of Saki Ika or dried squid on the right side of the page.

When I was in Bali I found out that my name could mean Squid. It was a friend of my former employer told me. This fellow called Troy had a Japanese wife and when he knew my name was Ika, he looked at me and asked, “Do you know what your name in Japanese means?” And I shook my head and he explained, “It means cumi-cumi a.k.a squid.” From that moment on, everybody in the office called me “squid.”

At my first meeting with a Japanese friend, Shigetada, I had the impression that he was convincing himself what he heard was really my name। "Ika?" he repeated my word. Shige was a typical Japanese man who wasn't expressive, yet polite. Guessing what he was thinking about, I told him, "Sounds like 'squid'?" And there, I've helped him expressing his thought.

Beside considering the name sound funny to me, it also reminded me that squid has always been my favorite seafood. I really like squids, really, really like them so much. I like calamari, I like seafood cap cay with lots of squid, I like stir-fried squid…I like squids cooked with everything! I like them because they’re chewy, I like their black ink, I like their shape…

The world of a squid might not be as happy and as colorful as ours, and might not be as complicated as ours too…. but if there’s a point that I’d like myself to reflect on this mollusk creature, I am so thankful that I’m not one of them. A life of a human being is complicated yet much much more beautiful than of a short life of a squid’s and the world is much wider than the world of a squid.