MOVING

Hey folks,
Blame laziness, twitter, facebook and other more modern ways of keeping in touch and rant about the world. SV inspired me to migrate to a new platform that's kinda a little bit of everything. It's new for me and in light of all the new developments in my life in the last few months, progress has been slow.

The new site will be less-wordy (I try) and it will cover (hopefully) sights and sounds as well. Come around and visit me here.

IMU

Feel Good

Thanks for the great link Fae! For a general feel good moment.

CHANGE

Jan 20, 2009 is going to be an important date in American history; another stepping stone in the quest of human equality, excellence, hope and change. Much hype has been written about the new US administration, about the message of hope and change that so many people like to hear in the midst of failing global economy and bleak future. Nothing less than greatness is expected from this one man, the 44th US President Barack Obama.

2009 is also the year where Indonesia is heading into the polls for a new government and a new president. While we are still high on the wind of change, I wonder on what cues we can take from our new symbol of change, in order to have some serious changes on our own. Indonesia is in dire need of changes.

One of the things that was heard constantly on the campaign trail and was mentioned in the Inaugural address, was the notion of acknowledging current challenges and failures of the past. To be honest about past mistakes is never going to be easy because of the possible finger pointing, dodging responsibilities and plenty of scapegoating. However, this is not about a person, or an organisation, but a collective willingness to admit mishaps of the past in order to move forward.

In the case of Indonesia, it is to put a stop in blaming current problems of corruption, nepotism, and mismanagement of the country on the Soeharto-era, and start realising the challenges facing the nation internally and externally. In the 30 years of Soeharto's rule, there was a vision of "developing Indonesia" that was made known to the people. Now, we hear random thoughts of certain people on how Indonesia should be, but all without coherence. The ways in which he did it might be objectable, from the 'brain-washing' style of moral education and history lesson in schools, to the eradication of creative expressions, to the formation of government driven grass-root farmers groups, but all of them signified a clear direction. It helped that he ruled with iron fists so that for 30 years, Indonesians were living under the guise of "Indonesian democracy". These mistakes are to be known, to be learned, to be forgiven but not to be forgotten.

The other interesting point that was made during Obama's address was about the need for new infrastructure that has old values, good old values of hard work, integrity, faith, opportunity. These old values represents America; they are the reasons why people see it as a land of hope, a new world.

Similarly, Indonesians can revisit the essence of Pancasila as a foundation of the nation. The 5 principles embody notions of religous belief and tolerance, humanity, unity, democracy and social justice. Maybe it is time to go back to the basics and ask these very questions when faced with the hard decisions. When it comes to the question of privatization of the state water company, "Will the result be just for all the people?" When it comes to the question of the destruction of F&B establishments during the fasting month, "Are these people prepresents religious tolerance?" When it comes to the question of electing a female government official, "Does her appointment reflect democratic process?"

We need to start asking real questions to contribute to the development of the nation. We also need to do it collectively. This election year is another learning process in the long road of Indonesian democracy, but just like a new history has been written on the form of America's first black president. Indonesia can do the same thing, too. A new history can be written where Indonesia is lead by a common purpose striving for a stronger nation.

Conversation about Knickers

The thing about wardrobe, apparels and fashion is, on a practical level it needs to make sense to where one lives geographically. The 4 seasons of fashion follow European weather trend: summer, fall, winter, spring -- but what happens when you live in the tropics? When all you have is hot, not-so-hot, and wet? You adjust. You look at nice fall fashion and love them, but no purchase because come on! Wearing a cashmere cardigan in 30 degree weather? Nobody is THAT insane!

Common sense (... if you have them) goes a long way, or in this case goes under way. Earlier today B and I got into a conversation about knickers. We discovered that weather is a big factor when it comes to choosing practical under garments.
Our top choice is M&S cotton knickers.

Sexy knickers are really pretty, nice to look at and usually nice to wear, just NOT in 30 degrees type of weather. There are reasons why these types of under garments should be sitting in your drawer waiting for the right occasion, or simply the right temperature.

If you are blessed with a sensitive skin, the beautiful lace trimmings might just sent you to a small itch-feast on areas you would/should not touch in public. If you happen to be a g-string fan with sweaty bums, you might just be sitting on your own drip. It is for reasons above that clearly, M&S cotton knickers are a sure winner.

2009 Resolution

The common question asked throughout New Year's Eve was, "What is your New Year's Resolution?" Most people will answer with the usual stuff like losing weight, spending more time with family, etc. We like the sound of the grand idea of a better future, but often we forget to think about the actual steps required to get to where we want to be.

The grand idea means that we understand the need to have some kind of vision for the future, and not just live life as it is presented to us. The grand idea means that we are interested in the bigger picture, that we understand how one person is a part of a community and that nobody can (...or should) be alone. The grand idea means that there is the notion of common good and we as humans need to contribute to it.

At the same time grand ideas are idealistic notions that are easily forgotten once the year moves on. The want of a better planet, a cleaner air, and a few kilos of your body often side-stepped by the 'really important things' like going out, laundry or a few hours of extra sleep in the morning. After all, a few more hours of sleep does not contradict your desire for a greener environment. You're just sleeping. Inactive. Dormant.

The challenge this year there will be matching the idea with the actions. I'm not a green-head and I don't use all recycled materials, nor do I use eco-friendly products throughout, yet I believe that I could still do something to save the planet. On much smaller scale, there are also a few things that I want to do to make me a better person. It is 2 weeks into the year and already I can see how they are not going to be easy. It needs discipline to change.

2009 is going to be about change.

1. I want to stop using plastic bag for grocery shopping, or any kind of shopping. Therefore I will always carry with me a carry-bag, because you never know when the impulse hits.

2. I want to be more mindful of water wastage. I will limit my shower time to maximum 10 minutes (even if I wash my hair). I will not keep the water running when I brush my teeth and my face.

3. I will write something in Indonesian once a month.

4. I will stop checking out Facebook's status one-liners and write them email whenever I think of them.

5. I will start saving more ($XXXX) every month for South America in 2010.

6. I will built that web site that archives all the work I've done in my career -- if not for future job opportunities, at least for memories.

7. I will do sports twice a week (exact sport to be determined)

2009 will be for change.

Food for Love

The thing about family is, you can't choose it. You're born into it without prior knowledge of how well-off they are, how educated, how funny or even how loving they are. Most of us have heard stories of family feuds, siblings who no longer speaks to each other, backstabbing relatives and broken homes. Life can be easy or difficult with family. Christmas is one of those occasions that celebrates family and togetherness. It is also the holiday that makes or breaks a family. How can it not? When everyone travel in packs, consuming and sharing, seriously living the notion of 'the more the merrier'. The various characters, numerous good intentions and even more ways of doing things can put serious strains on relationships. This Christmas, we traveled into my dad's home town in Central Java with some of my mother's siblings (more of that travel here).

Like most Indonesian families I know, food is an important element of celebration of togetherness. Not exquisite Christmas lunch or 5 courses of dinner spread over fancy table clothes and glowing candles, but just simple good food in abundance. It's always been about 'family style' -- where food is served in the middle, and everyone gets some from the same plate. It's about fighting for the last piece of meat because it's so good. It's about sharing a dessert because you want to have a room for seconds.

We have it easy, though far from perfect... There is genuine care and love for everyone, near and far, young and old. Like most Indonesian families, we're not very good in expressing our deepest emotions with words. Culturally emotionally reserved, action needs to speak louder than words in my family. It is why I woke up at 8am to have breakfast when all I wanted was to sleep in. It is why I did not mind waking up in the middle of the night because my 4 year old nephew's foot is on my face. It is why I accept the reality of a tiring Christmas holiday, because they needed to see my actions, my involvement, my presence in the tiniest little activity planned as signs of love.

Because I do. I love my family and I wanted them to know, the best way they know how. Because they will never ask the question, "Do you love me?" but hope that you make it to the next Christmas dinner.

Addiction

I'm addicted. Damn.

The village people

There has been no blogging of late and for that I blame recent travels and family obligations. Being a pastor's daughter means that you are somewhat part of a very large family, often consisting of people you don't know. I have memories of bumping people on the mall, exchanging greetings (... and by the way they greeted my dad, I'd know that they're members of his church), only to discover that Dad doesn't really know them at all. I remembered meeting people in restaurants, and finding the bills paid for by the same people who bid us good bye earlier. There were also visits to our house by seminary college students, who in time became colleagues of my father. And there were constant streams of out-of-town pastors from all over Java who were invited to speak at the church filling the memories of my childhood.

I grew out of them as years went by. They simply became events of the past, close to be forgotten. About a month ago, my dad was to have his official retirement service from the congregation he had served for 30 years. I couldn't remember the last time I set foot in that church. It has air conditioning, a screen projector on the side and a different lectern, everything else was the same... only smaller. Everyone looked familiar. Everyone smiled and nodded towards us.

During the service I found myself busy trying to recall names and faces. Those who showed up at the service had some sort of significant presence in our family life. Little flashbacks began to appear and more of them surfaced as we stood in front receiving warm wishes from people. There were faces whom I knew when they were teenagers, and now they're parents themselves. There were friends' parents who looked the same, except their hair were all grey. There was this doctor, who made my 'cool-person' list because he was handsome, comforting and had a huge aquarium of arwanas (the dragon fish) many years ago; he had a stroke years ago and now barely recognised people and had to be wheeled on a wheel chair.

It's heart warming to be back, even if I was never very far from it. These people matters to us as a family, and being a part of this community means that we are never alone. It is a bit like having your own village people. I like that. I like my village people.

Intermezzo

Thanks to VC-C for this little note. I turned out to be just Joe Normal. Not sure if I should be happy or disappointed.

The Shoe

It is customary in this city to take off your shoes when you enter somebody else's house. Most people wonders around the house barefeet or with house slippers.

In our household of 3, the shoes are indicators on who is getting some action in the bed room. The MO is always the same, you arrive late at night and notice a strange pair of shoe. You go to bed, not thinking about it until the next morning, where you see the same pair on the same spot. Person number 2 wakes up, and notices the same thing. Simple deduction is made: the person who wakes up last, is the lucky one.

There was a strange pair of shoes last night, but it disappeared after a few hours. Somebody got lucky. Really quickly.

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.