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.

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.

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.

BACK

Holiday was over officially 7 days, 15 hours and 34 minutes ago. The road ended back where I started. The cycle was complete and life was to resume the same way as before. But after you travel, you never come back as the same person. There's a little bit more or less of you, taken by the road experiences, which eventually might alter your future course. 

Travels always teach you something new about yourself, too. It helps to show you what you want to be, where you want to go, and what you have become. These pictures are not always pretty, often they're not what you want to see but having this knowledge can help you make decisions as you float along this crazy life.

My last trip was not a life changing journey. There was no 'eye-opener' that leads to enlightement or anything remotely close. I learned a few little things along the way though, that even if I stayed in dorm room hostels, I would no longer eat crap. No more wrapped sandwiches from free hostel breakfast, no more grocery shopping to save money. I know that Italian men are alright as long as they don't wear matching purple bets and shoes. I am sure that the reason why Scandinavian design is cool is because these people never knew anything other than, good design. I developed a new theory towards my red wine allergy; that I am only allergic to tannins when I'm in South East Asian countries. I realised that I partied less and observed more. I planned less and got lost often, but I didn't mind it at all; I still saw interesting things, just at a different place. I was not concerned about seeing everything, but wanted to feel something.

I wondered if I had given this place a chance. If I wasn't more concerned about how much I didn't like things, that things are... more than not, just different. Maybe I should try to enjoy getting lost, to be comfortable in uncertainty, and maybe, just maybe...I will get a little bit further on my red wine allergy theory.

P.S. Someone suggested that I should only drink Italian red. Something about the way Italian red wine is produced that makes tannin allergy almost impossible. Thoughts anyone?

A busted bubble

It was a moment of insanity, one said. It was a moment when electrical currents run through your body creating an adrenaline high. It was a moment where minutes turned into hours, and days turned into weeks. It felt like blowing transparent rainbow bubble full of dreams of the moment.

You keep the rainbow bubble safe at the back of your mind, checking it back every now and then. At least once a year, it gets taken out of the safe for some spring cleaning. Memories bring out new colours that put a smile on your face. Every now and then.

Then there was a second moment. You would think that it would be similar to the first one. You would think that it would make your bubble more beautiful, but this time around it had prickly thorns that eventually blew everything up. Your pretty, transparent rainbow bubble of dreams made a big sound of pop, only to vanish into thin air.

Suddenly it was no more.

I want it to be RIGHT

I hate it when somebody says, "I don't have a choice. I have to do it." It's BS. Everybody has a choice. Most of the times when somebody says something like that, it really means that he/she doesn't have a choice that he/she likes, or is willing to do. If you think having to choose something that you don't like is hard, having to choose one out of two things you like is actually even harder.

• Make a list of pros and cons and see which comes with more pros. The results are equal.
• Which one do you want more? I want both.
• Which one brings you more money? They're equal.
• Which place do you like more? I like them both.

What you get in the end is people shrugging their shoulders, exasperated look on their face saying, "It's up to you. It's your call." Thanks.

The most difficult thing about having to choose one thing over another is, you want to be sure that you've chosen the right thing. They might both be good. But only one can be right. And you want to make THAT right decision which will lead to many more right things in our lives.

We often obsess about "getting it right". We like it when we won an argument. We like it when things work according to plan. But actually, right or wrong is relative. Life is too long of journey to be worrying about whether or not you're making the right move, meeting the right people, carrying the right purse, etc. It should be enough to believe in your instincts and make a right, and cherish the ups and downs that come down with that road.

After all, there is never a "right" experience. It's an experience.

On Leaving

She sat in the corner one seater couch. She was skinny and petite. There was a nervousness about her. It was early and the office was slowly filling up with people. “Hi… You must be A. You’re new? I’m Cynthia. Nice to meet you.” We shook hands and then I started the SBC tour. It was a few years later when we were at a friend’s BBQ that she held my hand with one hand and told me something in confidence. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving Jakarta for good.”

L: With certain people you just have a good connection and you don’t mind. Like with you. Like the first time I met you.
C: How did we meet again?
L: I still remember that day. It was my first job. The bike? There are 3 versions with different funky supers that constantly got revised.
C: Oh, I remember. It was nice. We were working together. I can’t believe now you’re leaving.
L: I still need to pack.
C: What time is your flight? Is anyone sending you to the airport?
L: No, I’m just going to take a cab. I don’t want anyone sending me.

A text from mum:
SS passed away earlier. He was to wed his son next week.

An email from CTN:
R’s dad just passed away. Thought you should know.

People leave. They leave town or they leave the world. For good. Forever. You get left behind. People come and go. The people I connect with, the places I go… I should be used to this. I don’t. Being left behind sucks. They haven’t left and I missed them already.

Another Saturday in J-Town

Those who follow this blog would get a glimpse of my frustration and realisation that there simply just isn't enough things to do in this town. An urban concrete with layers of tiny streets filled with people and cars, Jakarta offers few options of entertainment. However, a few days ago I was reminded how Jakarta can be a small melting pot for people. At a friend's BBQ (whom I also just beginning to get to know...) I met a bunch of interesting people, Indonesians who spent a number of years overseas, some expatriates working in this town. Everybody had different backgrounds from counselling psychologist, bankers, marketing people, security specialist, doctors, the list goes on. The party started in the afternoon and continued until dark skies enveloped our BBQ pit. Names registered, faces remembered and until next time.

On Love

This is my final quote from Shantaram,...

"They'd lied to me and betrayed me, leaving jagged edges where all my trusts had been, and I didn't like or respect or admire them any more, but still I loved them. I had no choice. I understood that, perfectly, standing in the white wilderness of snow. You can't kill love. You can't even kill it with hate. You can kill in-love, and loving and even loveliness. You can kill them all, or numb them into dense, leaden regret, but you can't kill love itself. Love is the passionate search for a truth other than your own, and once you feel it, honestly and completely, love is forever. Every act of love, every moment of the heart reaching out, is a part of the universal good: it's a part of God, or what we call God, and it can never die."

-Gregory David Roberts-

Idyll Weekend

The weekend that just past was dreadful because it being 7.7.7 there were tons of event to attend: weddings(...and I hate going to them because they require such effort), parties, etc. It turned out to be one of the best weekends I've had, ever. Probably because I didn't go to any of the aforementioned above.

SATURDAY
I am a big Grey's Anatomy fan. Season 3 finished not too long ago and I finally got my hands on the whole lot. I started on episode 6, because I watched the first 5 episodes during my time in the US... and got sucked into the deep, dark, funny, disturbing drams of Seattle Grace Hospital. It was a day of Grey Marathon, junk food and the lot. The constant theme that keeps coming back to me is communication. It is such a simple word that requires creative action.

Communication is important to avoid mis-communication; a misinterpretation of intent; misunderstanding of feeling. One person must have endless ways of connecting to the different people, and its a constant learning process that can never be taken for granted. I can relate to Meredith when she shuts Derek out on things that matter, but talks to him about where she's going to be after lunch. Don't we all do that? We communicate the trivials and forget to speak about the personals, because it's so much harder to reveal our weaknesses to other people. Even if that person is supposedly your significant other.

It is easy for me to carry a full on conversation about everything and nothing with people, and yet it requires gianormous effort to tell a person I like that he has hurt my feelings. It takes time for me to say things out loud when it comes to how I feel about people I love. Oh well, I'm learning...

SUNDAY
Shantaram Brunch
Another great day that was originally planned to be a productive one; I think gym and grocery shopping and clock repair was part of the plan - only to be reduced to a long brunch at a bookshop cafe while I finised Shantaram for the second time, and a bit of grocery shopping. It was partly productive!

I gotta tell you though, that nothing beats that quiet Sunday afternoon sipping coffee reading a great book. My sense of fulfillment added when an elderly Indian man came up to me and said, "Hi, sorry to bother you... but I just want to say that I'm reading the exact same book and I love it." You know what they say about a japanese restaurant filled japanese? Yeah, it kinda felt like that. An Indian man reading a book about India? It's good. I know it's good; that is why I'm reading it for the second time... But it's nice to have that kind of validation. Nothing like being approved by the local.

Wimbledon Men's Singles Final
Roger Federer VS. Rafael Nadal. Need I say more? World's Rank No.1 VS. World No. 2. Both set out to break records. Federer was attempting 5 consecutive wins to equal Bjorn Borg's achievement, and Rafa was making an attempt at being consecutive champions of 2 Grand Slam tournaments: Roland Garros and Wimbledon, on 2 different surfaces. A surface that traditionally belongs to Federer.

Federer was a favourite. But when the first set lasted 56 minutes, an both of them were fighting for every single point, and Rafa took on the second set... you know that everything was possible. That made the match unbelievably amazing to watch. Strength, perseverance, focus, concentration, fighting spirit, agility, flexibility, endurance, strategy. Oh! Amazing! Did I say amazing! Oh. Oh. Oh. 5 sets of amazing tennis.

Federer set his record. He puts his name down as one of the legends.

And with that, I ended my ah-may-zeeeeng weekend with myself. Oh yeah, totally spend hours on end with myself. And you know what? It was one of the best weekends in my life.

What boys and girls talk about

I caught Ocean 13 just as it was about to be taken off the cinemas, and enjoyed the moment of camraderie between Rusty and Danny when they watched Oprah together (thanks Cal!). A moment of boys sharing their moments together; without the macho shoulder bumping, the loud laughs over beer, or the crazy yells over sports on telly. Boys quietly appreciating Oprah. Boys watch it, too... although they would never admit it. And they talked about their girlfriends/partners, too. In the most non-communicative, un-detailed, non-verbal conversation-kinda way. Watching that scene becomes somewhat a validation of something girls always thought of but never seen. It's like, proof! See!! If it's in the movies then it must be real! Ha!

It is common knowledge that when girls get together, they would talk about guys. Without fail. I know. I am one of them. Our conversations range from the most mundane facts of our relationship (or in my case lack of them) to the greatest detail of one's sexual encounter. Girls ponder upon why guys often ask the question, "what are you wearing?" over the phone. We start asking questions when someone who is close to us for the last few months suddenly gone quiet on the communication front; we assume then talk to our girlfriends, who normally make even worse assumptions. The sisterhood comes to a conclusion that one should ask subtly and thus, save herself from possible humiliation whenever the answer makes sense and does not confirm our paranoia. Girls grows up in a circle of support where sharing details of the story is almost as important as the story itself. The details are the nuts and bolts, the razzle dazzle that REALLY is a story/person/event. At times it is known as reading between the lines, at other times it is known as reading too much into nothing. A very fine line, that is.

We're just different creatures, boys and girls. Communication is something that we both need to learn. To me the hard thing is not the act of communicating; it is overcoming my own ego and pride that is even harder. I want to ask, but oh... it has to be the right time, when we're on the right topic, after the right food, never after a certain beverage. Ugh.

A very wise man once told me,"Whenever in doubt, just ask". Yeah, you do it!

Blogging In My Head

So many things happened in the last few weeks that I have not had time to blog properly on this site. On my actual blog. I blog for a few seconds in my head whilst driving, whilst waiting for coffee to boil and of course I forgot all about them. I thought that I'd try to put down scraps of stuff that remains before I, really do not remember!

HEROES
For those who does not know of its existence, oh my god! click on the link above and find out and get yourself a copy of season 1. it's science fiction meets drama, without the geeky creatures, and soapy characters and oh, the pretty people is not that pretty which makes it, oh...so much more desirable.

One night, 3 girls were sitting down for a glass of good mojito in a bar and embarked on a deep meaningful conversation about the series. Here are some stuff we came up with on why we love the series. Okay, so some say it's cheesy what happens between Peter and Nathan; but that's brotherly love. Peter has never been strong and confident, he seeks validation all his life, but no matter what Nathan has always been there. That's love. Real love.

And yes, one doubts how a person with a multiple personality disorder can truly understand love and even love someone(s). Niki and Jessica does, for they're all and the same and everything they do, it's for the ones they love. The two personalities just love differently.

Save the world, save the cheerleader! A father who finally realises that what matters is his daughter. His love for her surpasses memory.

I can go on and on and on...

BIMBOESQUE

A term invented by the crazy, weird, beautiful Renu over dinner while we were talking about men. Everyone on the dinner table has lived in another country before, and when it comes to men we came to an agreement that intellectual men are hard to come by. That was not a feminist, burning bras, male bashing type of conversation but it was just a statement agreed by all.

We concluded that most men are intimidated by signs of intelligence in a woman, which is why on first encounters we have to "bimboesque" ourselves. We laughed hard because at some level, there's a lot of truth in that.

I take comments from the male population...

This post is longer than I expected. Apparently, I remember more once I start writing them. More posts to come. Don't get bored.

Under Paranoia

Like any other big cities, Jakarta is abundant in crimes; street vandalism, crime of desperation, crime of passion, white-collar crime... Anything. I don't know anyone who hasn't had a brushed with some kind of crime. As more and more people found out about what happened to me, stories began to flow. Somebody's co-worker was robbed under gunpoint, somebody's boss got stabbed even after she gave everything. Even more advice followed; never stop your car unsupervised (...always go into a secured office building with security guards, etc), have your car tinted to maximum, stand by a steel rod, etc.

Partly common sense, partly paranoia, I leave my house every morning after the incident with full guard. I worry when motorcycles ride too close to me. I don't place my purse next to me anymore, but instead under my seat, I hate traffic jams (not because of obvious reasons but because it gives a chance for motorbikes to "spy" on me. It's insane.

The newspapers metropolitan section are filled with stories of economic desperation. The increased living standard is not followed by salary adjustment. The government seems to be almost paralysed by numerous problems; one bigger than the other, that no matter how much effort being put into improving the situation, the effect never reaches the folks on the street. When citizens have to fend for their own well being and can no longer hope for government assistance, what becomes of this city? What role does a government play on the stage of our daily lives?

I try to put my incident in perspective and not let paranoia rule. It's bloody hard I tell you. Wish me luck...

THE END

It is finally over. As much as I longed for this moment to come, I couldn't help feeling a little lost. All of a sudden all my nights are free again. No more rehearsals, no more bitching about the traffic going to the rehearsal venue, no more worrying about audience. No more. The curtain has closed. What is left is a few pictures to remember it by. Oh, and the new friends I've made during the process.

A million thanks to ES and RR for putting up with weeks of slacking at work. You gals are the best!

Short on Words

Time is not something I have in abundance lately, due to my involvement in a show titled "LOVE VS. FEAR". The show opens in less than a week and things are getting harder and harder. But spirits are high and as Cal briefly said (on a slightly different context), "squeeze greatness".

Sneak peak from rehearsals...

A Search for Meaning

When I was young and naive and had no idea about the real world, I was burnt with passion and ideals. I wanted to make the world a better place. I loved Michael Jackson's HEAL THE WORLD (... I still like the song, even if I think he's turning into a real freak who needs serious help) because I truly believed that everybody has to try to make the world a better place. Only to later discover that childhood innocence gets washed away by harsh realities of life; that economic demands and the act of survival comes before social responsibilities and ecological awareness. Like many others, I surrendered to apathy and ignorance and went on about my life.

When I go about my life in such a way, I feel a loss of purpose. I believe there is a reason for everything; there has to be a purpose for everything. I, too, must have a purpose. What is my calling?

I left my job in production and found another and another job that allowed more time for self-pondering, time wasting, searching for a purpose kinda thing. I tried to seriously start something I love and work on it. I thought that I when I have time on my side, the search will be easier and my purpose will come to me.

NO.

Things don't get easier. I constantly found myself having to justify what I do and why I do it. Funny how when you think you're trying to contribute something to humanity, life doesn't make it easy on you. You are trying to do good, and yet everything around you comes in your way, the things you love become stumbling blocks, despair and frustration creeps in... trying to lure you back into apathy and ignorance. At times, I never feel so alone.

This morning I was reminded that searching for your calling is not going to be an easy journey. The hardships are training us to be stronger than the problems, bigger than the obstacles. In facing these challenges we become the kind of people we are supposed to be. They are there to squeeze greatness out of us.

Cool Story

Who doesn't have a gay or lesbian friend these days? How many painful stories of coming out or family pressures have you heard thus far? I came across this particular story on my favourite blog and I thought of sharing it.

My Mom Made Me Gay.

Hope to inspire...

Shantaram

Those who are following this blog would've heard about this book, written beautifully by Gregory David Roberts. My first experience with this book was back in 2005 and now I'm hoping to find new things from it. And I did...

One of the reason why we crave love, and seek it so desperately is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.

Keep an eye out for other blurps from Shantaram. Have patience. The book has close to 1000 pages.

Fun Randomness #1

Your Birthdate: August 1

You are a natural born leader, even if those leadership talents haven't been developed yet. You have the power and self confidence to succeed in life, and your power grows daily. Besides power, you also have a great deal of creativity that enables you to innovate instead of fail. You are a visionary, seeing the big picture instead of all of the trivial little details. Your strength: Your supreme genius Your weakness: Your inappropriate sensitivity Your power color: Gold Your power symbol: Star Your power month: January

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Survival of the Fittest

About 2 weeks ago, The Minister of Information and Blabla (I don't even know the department's current title) released a new regulation about foreigners working within the commercial film industry. A new ruling will eventually phase out the numerous film crews working in this country and creating new opportunities for the locals.

There were pros and cons when the ruling came out; uncertainties and confusion filled the minds of many. Film directors, composers, editors, flame artists and many more. My friends who have fell in love with this country and the many benefits they have as foreigners. When this ruling is enforced many will have to flee Jakarta and go back to their country, or try their luck in other developing nations where the advertising industry is at its infancy and foreign talents are important to provide training and raise production standards. A mate of mine eloquently put it, "...Some of these people are in for a shock. Washing their own clothes, driving their own cars, having sex with women their own age.. it's gonna be ugly." It means a change of lifestyle. An abandonment of fully services environment provided by cheap labour and tons of domestic help; where everybody has at least one maid and maybe a driver.

Will the locals really benefit from this ruling though? Most people I've spoken to simply shake their heads. In the era of open market, why are we closing our doors and offer senseless protectionism? Is it a protection to ensure local growth or is it simply fear due to incompetence? I had been lucky to have worked with really great foreign crews; the standards I learned working in a foreign own production company is something I can easily apply in many parts of the world, because it is international standards. Foreign crews bring with them healthy working attitude and we can all learn from.

And I believe in survival of the fittest. Many local directors have risen up to the challenge and handle respectable brands with highly praised production standards. If you're good, you're good no matter what colour skin you are...