Colour Blind

For far too long our culture cultivates the black and white dichotomy, in which you're either this or that and there's nothing in between. Grey is not a colour; it is an undesirable stand point reserves only for the weak and undecided. Black or white is also often seen from a hierarchical view, where one is superior than the other or vice versa, depending on who's looking. We struggle to create a dialog that does not result in a shouting match. We struggle to converse without winning. For far too long, we are enslaved by our colours: red or blue, black or white, brown or yellow, green or blue.

The US Presidential Campaign is trying hard to NOT make it about race. But how can you not? For the first time the United States of America will have a person of colour (...that is not white) as a potential future president. It will be the first test for the democracy and equality they loudly preach around the world. The US Election should NOt be about race; it should be about what it good for the country. We will see if America is ready to be colour blind in a few days.

I once asked a foreigner friend what she thinks about having a relationship with a local guy. "I don't mind the idea. After all, a relationship is about the emotional connection you have with the other person and not about where he comes from. Those things are what makes him what he is, and that's what you found attractive. But,... it is hard for me to shake off doubts on whether he likes me for who I am, or he likes me because I could be a meal ticket." I understand her thinking completely. We hear horror stories about these type of relationships more often than the happily-ever-after kind. Generally, we hear more stories about failed relationships and remember them better, because sucessful relationships only exist in movie theatres. We'd like to think that we can be colour blind, but we can never be sure.

We are a generation who is bitter and jaded, yet still holding on to the possibility of that bit of romance. Therefore, it is really refreshing to come across something like Colour Blind.

Girls, girls, girls...

The best thing about being single is the ability to have multiple ego-boosting experiences when it comes to men. The looks of adoration, the uncomplicated language of hello and good byes in strange places, the generous amount of free alcohol are definite perks. In as much the single girls want the full-on meaningful "R" and the comfort and safety that comes with it, most of us who have been single for far too long become good at this, and learned to enjoy this state. Human beings crave for that attention and we learned to take it when it's there for the taking.

A single girl was going out with a 'friend' who was supposedly 'interested' (...this term is further to be defined). They had an absolute blast, and as part of a drunken stupor misinterpret a hand signal to be an invitation for a kiss. No animal was hurt in this proceeding, and both parties ended the act with content. This was a pre-text for another, obviously. A good kisser is not to be wasted, and the best way to appreciate him/her is to have as many kisses as possible.

Another single girl in another town was out with some friends. Recently she began to have some issues with age and her singleton status, and her mates decided to cheer her up. They spotted a cute boy in her 20s, and said, "It's her birthday today, do something to her." Our cute little 20 year old dutifully responded by giving our single girl one of his best, most luscious kiss.

Another single girl in another town went a little bit further with the boys in this department. She lived up her fantasy by being her own Mrs. Robinson to innocent young English subjects in London town. Her specialty was educating these boys on utilising physical prowess to much better use, for the glory and happiness of girls around the world.

Little is known to the rest of single girls' #1 story. The term "interested" which is to be defined may or may not present complication. She is fully aware of the stakes and quite happy to leave things the way they are at the moment, with the hope of something (... again, to be further defined).

Single girl #2 feels better about herself now, but continue to remain single until she can work out her own issues with the "R" word.

Our third single girl is now fully retired from her post as an educator to settle down with a lovely young chap called P. He is a few years younger, but seems to have mastered the balance of physical prowess and technique with the added bit of love and romance as a complete package.

Until then, the single girls will continue to take where they can, when they can, and what they can!

Working on (IM)Patience

Patience is a virtue that has never been mine. You wouldn't be anywhere near when I'm annoyed, because I turned into this crazy, full-on swearing bitch whose looks would drive you away in an instant. Trust me, this observation was made by numerous people over the years.

Recent events have been really trying, and strangely my impatience is affecting me more than ever. I am trying to be calm about things; not to blow up and say things I don't mean. And yes, I can be really mean. I'm trying to forgive and forget, only to find myself even more irritated. Which lead me to wonder if it would be better to just blow off my top and get it over and done with? Because now, it's simply irritating... and it doesn't go away!!

Any ideas?? I want to work on this...

English? Ingles? Inglese?

English is my second language that I used more than my first language. However, my english is a loose form of communication with acquired accents from various places, and adapted terminologies whose origins I can not point out. Faetryn was once asked about my accent, and she said, "Yeah, she's got a funky one."

conversations with a bunch of north americans
C: This is really comfy. It's raining outside and I'm talking under my doona.
S: Huh?
VAC: Doona? *Big laughter* What the hell is a doona?
C: Doona. You know...
S: What's that?
C: Huh? *confused* Isn't that English? Doona, ehmm quilt cover,
VAC: Oh, you mean comforter! Right!
S: Where the hell do you get doona from?
C: I dunno, it's always been doona..

conversations with an aussie living in london in stockholm
B: I know I say tea, funny... I was speaking to my mum the other day. She laughed.
C: Yes, and did she ever get it confused with tea, as in tea the drink, and tea, for dinner?
B: Absolutely! Almost all the time. I get it with my colleagues with pants.
C: Pants?
B: Yes, the English don't use the word pants unless they mean underwear. They use trousers.
C: Ah, a pair of trousers *spoken with English accent*

conversation with an english girl who grew up in australia in geneva
F: Did you spend some time in Australia?
C: A little bit. Why? *I have only met this person for a little over 2 hours*
F: Well, you said no worries before and I thought, gosh! I haven't heard that for a really long time.
C: Haha.. It just comes out.
F: Yeah, I know what you mean. When I first came, I said "Hello, how are you?" all the time when I greet people and the Europeans looked at me funny. They were not sure how to respond.
C: They're not sure how to respond to that?
F: Yeah, they thought that it's weird that this person actually wants to know about their well being.
C: Oh! I know most times, I do want to know. But more often than not, it just comes out as a package...
F: I KNOW!!

conversation with an american in singapore
J: Why is it when you go to foreign language sites, the sign for English language is always the British flag?
C: Errr... because that's where English comes from? They're Eng-lish...
J: Yeah, but we speak English, too! So are the Canadians, why can't it be a different flag?
C: .... *Speechless. Puzzled. I just gave him a shrug.

FEVER

never know how much i love you
never know how much i care
when you put your arms around me
I give you fever that's so hard to bare

you give me fever
when you kiss me
fever when you hold me tight
Fever
In the morning
Fever all through the night

Sun lights up the day time
moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name
and you know i'm gonna treat you right

you give me fever
when you kiss me
fever when you hold me tight
Fever
In the morning
Fever all through the night

Everybodies got the fever
That is somethin you all know
Fever is'nt such a new thing
Fever start long ago

Romeo love Juliet
Juliet she felt the same
When he put his arms around her
He said Julie baby your my flame

Now give me fever
When were kissin
Fever with that flame in you
Fever
I'm a fire
Fever yeah i burn for you

Captain smith and pocahontas
had a very mad affair
When her daddy tried to kill him
She said daddy oh don't you dare

He gives me fever
With his kisses
fever when he holds me tight
Fever
I'm his misses
Daddy won't you treat him right

Now you listened to my story
Here's the point that i have made
Chicks were born to give you fever
Be it fair and have a sense of game

They give you fever
when you kiss them
Fever if you really learned
Fever
Till you sizzlen
But what a lovely way to burn

But what a lovely way to burn
But what a lovely way to burn
But what a lovely way to burn

Over the Rhine does a wicked interpretation.

Tech-bubble-one-liner

Are we losing the essence of communication? In the world of high tech communication devices, of constant connectivity regardless of time zone and traditional nation states, how disconnected are we really?

Keeping in touch has never been so easy. Gone are the days of choosing the right paper if you were to write long letters to friends, the pain on your wrist that comes from writing lines lines of update that will only be outdated by the time it reached the recipient. Phone calls are often substituted by text messages. International phone calls are slowly making ways for VOIP. Social networking sites such as facebook, myspace, friendster and the likes are connecting the people dots in your life.

These days, it is considered sufficient to read the status line on facebook to think that you know what's going on with that person. One sentence is all it takes to make people ignore or contact you. I found it rather disturbing when your attempt of personal connection with someone is decided by one-liners from a social networking site. Are these technological conveniences promoting laziness, and undermining the whole point of being connected at all?

Conversation about one-night-stands

C: So, what have you been up to? You should get out there and you know... get some...
J: Naaaa. As much as I'd like to get some, most times it's just more hassle.
C: Whaddaya mean? Like, a girl gets all clingy over your one night stand?
J: Well, I have a theory about this.
C: Let's hear it!
J: Based on my limited experience, a girl would love to do things to you and make you feel good all over but when it comes for me to return the favour, she wouldn't let me.
C: Huh? What are you talking about? Are we still talking about a one night stand?
J: Yeah, you meet someone at a bar, danced a bit, talked a bit, get all worked up and went on from there. I always said that I was not looking for anything, that it's in the moment, yadda yadda yadda and the girl must agree before we go on anywhere.
C: Ok, I get that. It has to have mutual consent. What I don't get is what do you mean by "she wouldn't let you return the favour?" She would only pleasure you and not let you give her pleasure?
J: Yeah, she would... just she wouldn't let me make her come.
C: Huh? Why?
J: Here's the theory: girls wouldn't let guys make them come because they're scared of wanting more.
C: If you're good at it, of course they would want more! No?
J: But that's not supposed to happen in a one-night-stand. I'd be happily stay and cuddle and get all tactile after but that doesn't necessarily mean that I want to see them again. That'd just be against the whole notion of a one-night-stand.
C: Hmmm, I have to think about this.

What should one expects from a one-night-stand? By definition, I think, none. How often though you get into similar situations and allow reason takes over the moment? Girl, would you exert control and prohibit yourself from receiving pleasure for fear of what would happen after the next 5 minutes? I'd thought that if you put yourself there then you know what you're in for. Therefore, if this concept is not how we would naturally function as social beings, should we do this at all?

I'm rambling...and on the record, NO: I have nothing against a one night stand.

disclaimer: names had been hidden to protect the (not) so innocent.

A letter to T

It was one year ago that I first heard of your name, in brief description of an event that lead us to where we are now. A few months later, your name took a physical form and I have been entangled in a series of events catapulted from that first time. It was not a happy ocassion, it was full of tears, volumes of alcohol and several dosages of valium. That was normal for a broken heart. Time adds the missing ingredient and life goes on. Or, so I thought.

Dear T,
what saddens me the most is not how you're still not over your feelings, or how you're missing your best friend every morning but how hard you are on yourself. The brave front you finally managed to put up in the last few months turned out to be a facade, another layer of withdrawal where you can hide yourself from; maybe even from yourself. It was like trying to trick yourself to this "brave-face", to eventually gather the strength from your own projection. It worked for a while, until you tested it; only to find the image shattered the moment it hit water, leaving sharp objects on the open wound. You bled again.

I'm not an expert in healing a broken heart. God knows I had my own demons to worry about when it comes to relationships. What I've learned though is that being honest with yourself is the first step towards healing. That whole cliche of "if you love someone set them free" is true, too; and it should be looked at as less sacrificial on your part. Setting someone free also means setting yourself free first. You need to be free yourself of the what've, should've could've... and let it all go. Learning to accept there are things beyond your control is not easy. It never is.

I wish I can offer more than vague words, a hug and a listening ear. But trust that there are bigger forces in motion in our lifes and you will never be alone. Even if you don't believe it, I do. Hopefully it will be enough to carry you through. In time.

(The Hill, Oct 5, 2008)

Home Blues

Yesterday was Hari Raya Idul Fitri, a celebration of victory over mental and physical desires through a month of fasting for Muslims all around the world. It is a moment of rebirth and cleansing, of forgiveness and starting over. It is a day of silatuhrami, where family and friends reconnect and ask for forgiveness of any wrong doings.

Growing up in Indonesia, the fasting month and the Idul Fitri celebration that comes after is something that you can not escape. It is part of your cultural upbringing regardless what religion you hold. The whole country fast with you; an influx of religious programs on radio and teve, the closure of night entertainment places, the impossibility to serve alcohol in public places, the curtains over the glass windows of MacDonalds and any other cafes, the sleepy faces of public servants, and a general lethargy in the air. You can not miss it.

I miss it though. I don't miss all of the above, but I miss the celebration afterwards. When we were younger, the non-muslim friends would go over to our Muslim friends' house to take part in the feast. It was probably just an excuse to eat for free and hang out, but it was a wonderful feeling of camraderie and community where religions don't matter. We would have a table full of food, in a combination that you only see once a year served buffet style - during Idul Fitri: ketupat, beef rendang, dendeng balado, opor ayam, sambal goreng kerecek, sayur labu siam, and much more. There would be a pile of plates and cutleries and everyone is free to grab whatever they want, as often as they'd like. I get all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it.

The other nice thing about Idul Fitri is the emptiness of Jakarta streets. It is customary for people to celebrate Idul Fitri in their home town; and most people would leave Jakarta to join their relatives in their original birth place. This also means that every helper in most house hold would leave town, leaving their employer with their own devices. My mum used to give us chores: wash dishes, mop the floor, throw out garbage, laundry, make your own bed, and we would try to weasel our way out of doing them.

As I ate my dose of Idul Fitri food (as the local Malay Singaporeans have them, courtesy of S' mother), I couldn't help thinking of my people back home. My mum without the maid. The ketupat and sambal goreng. My brother avoiding to take out the trash (... yes, he still does it). For the first time since I moved here, I kinda miss home.