In Love with Life…

A typical Javanese and a never-an-optimistic-person as a motivator  knew it, I was accustomed to hide my heartache behind a line of polite , comforting words like “It’s OK, really. Why make such a fuss about it.” or “They don’t mean it,  I should not take it personally.” or “There must be a good reason for their conducts, so no hard feeling”. Yet, the real me inside screamed how untrue my words really were, at least for the very moment when it came out of my mouth.  “How come it is OK?” I yelled silently. “My life is ruined, I was taken advantage of, the humiliation is unbearable, and yet I said that everything is OK?”

It still amazes me to think how I was so accommodative to nurture the feeling of others (who actually did bad things to me)  by trying to behave  as if everything was just as normal as always.  I victimized myself to keep things well balanced and undisturbed, assuring others that it was OK for them to do that thing for whatever reason they had in mind.  And I kept uncomfortable feeling deep in my soul.

What I kept rotten inside killed me inside. As I carried the hatred, I found it more and more difficult to go on. As I recalled the wrongdoings of others, I found it impossible to move forward. As I shut the anger inside, the tension became so strong that I felt like I was going to explode. I had to let them go to have myself back.

So this was what I did to begin nursing my soul. First, I accepted the fact that I was hurt and angry.  Second, I said what I wanted to say  out loud from my heart — even if it only meant talking to the empty air.  Third, I rationalize the things in a way my brain could digest. Keeping the hurt and the anger wouldn’t do me any good. While they enjoyed their life without the slightest trace of me in their mind, I stayed here feeling miserable. I couldn’t change the past. I was hurt but I wasn’t going to be hurt for nothing. So I tried to learn something — no matter how small — from the bad experience. And lastly, I made resolution that finally I would forgive whoever did that bad things to me — as time went by.

I’m not the kind of person who can forgive and forget easily, but I’m grateful that I don’t have enough room in my heart to keep all the hurts forever. I am grateful that at the end, I can forgive. Only then my soul can begin to heal. But I don’t forget. And I think I should not forget, because I have to remember what had been done the next time I faced the same — or similar — situation.

As for revenge… I am not really in to that. What for? When I think about it and it doesn’t hurt anymore, then it’s over. Why make it complicated again? So I just take a walk away from it, see particular persons from different viewpoints, and go on with my life.

Still,  forgiven  doesn’t mean forgotten. In a more elegant way, I’d say it is learning things the hard way — I can do better next time by remembering my lesson well. In a more casual term, I’d  say that, after all,  we’re just humans. And humans gotta do what humans gotta do. They remember things.

Tuesday, 11.11.2008

20.31 pm

Door mat.

Sounds too simple. Who would care about a door mat? There it is everyday before your way, but do you ever pay attention on what you always do on it? Clean your shoes. Leave all the dirt behind. Then close the door and they are forgotten. The dirt and the door mat who keeps it.

If you don’t want your guest to enter, you make him stand before your door mat. The door mat is the only thing that keep him from you. And when he’s gone? Close the door and they are forgotten. The unwanted guest and the door mat.

If you have to pull something heavy inside, you put it on your door mat. Then pull it in. This way,  you will keep the floor unscratched. After that? You admire your new stuff, and return the door mat to where it belongs. Close the door and they are forgotten. The door mat and the scratch that would have been there without it.

And when the door mat finally gives up, pretty often you don’t try to mend it in anyway. When its color has faded and its lining has worn, you can always replace it with a new door mat. “It’s only a door mat, silly, what would I care about it?” is probably what you’d say.

Have you ever asked what the door mat got to say? “I’m only a door mat,” it squeaks. “If I have the choice to leave your door, I will.”

You know what, some door mats do have that choice.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Lunch time. Waiting for the end of an agony, and for the time  to break free.

        Satu hari di tahun 2004. What a red letter day, kata Freddy Mercury, the postman delivered a letter from my lover… (eh, jadi ngaco…) maksudnya, a letter from AusAID. Amplopnya tebal. Isinya? Dua buku panduan universitas di Australia. Sepucuk surat dari official-nya AusAID, congratulations, katanya, udah terpilih jadi scholarship awardee. Makasiiiihhh… Hanya selang beberapa hari, official-nya JICE telepon, congratulation, udah diterima di ODA scholarship, katanya… Makasiiiihh lagi….
        Tapi setelah beberapa pertimbangan, baik personal maupun profesional, the winner was… Waseda University. I kissed goodbye to Melbourne Uni and Monash (the top two candidates in my list), and took the flight  to Tokyo, saya masih ingat flight number-nya: JAL 726. Dan walaupun saya nggak pernah menyesal dengan keputusan itu, kadang-kadang tergelitik juga untuk berpikir, apa ya yang terjadi seandainya saya memutuskan sekolah ke Melbourne saat itu?            
        Jadi, karena sekarang saya di Melbourne, boleh dong saya mencicipi sedikit potongan kehidupan yang pernah saya lewatkan. Nggak banyak waktu yang tersisa setelah pulang kerja (iya, ini official duty, bukan jalan-jalan hura-hura seperti biasa…), tapi untungnya masih bisa curi-curi kesempatan melihat-lihat kota dengan mengambil rute yang  berbeda setiap hari. Kotanya cantik. Teratur, rapi, bersih. Selama di Melbourne, saya jadi kecanduan kopi. Mungkin karena udara dingin, atau karena saya ikutan latah dengan gaya orang-orang di sana yang pada jalan-jalan sambil menyeruput kopi panas. Tapi, ternyata enak juga, menikmati kota dengan secangkir kopi di tangan. 
        Apartemen tempat saya tinggal (kebetulan saya dapat satu apartemen sendiri) betul-betul seperti apartemen impian saya: nggak terlalu besar, minimalis, dengan sofa nyaman di depan TV. Dan… ranjang besar tempat saya bisa tidur dengan posisi diagonal… (kalau tidur sendiri di ranjang besar, saya suka membayangkan ada makhluk seram yang tiba-tiba berbaring di samping saya…. hiiii… makanya posisi diagonal paling OK, leave no space for no one…). Saya jadi menghitung-hitung lagi apa tabungan saya sudah cukup banyak (atau nyali saya sudah cukup nekat) untuk punya apartemen di Jakarta… (kayaknya nggak dulu deh, mengingat saya belum punya alasan untuk hidup settle di satu tempat…).
       In short, saya suka kota ini. Auranya beda dengan Sydney, yang notabene lebih besar. Mungkin saya akan betah juga kalau sekolah disini untuk beberapa tahun. Yang jelas, saya nggak mau kerja part-time (no matter what people say about the salary). Saya mau menikmati hidup nyaman di kota yang nyaman. Sepulang dari sekolah, toh saya akan kerja lagi dan lagi dan lagi…
       Satu pertanyaan paling konyol tapi  juga paling menggoda, seandainya saya dulu memilih Melbourne, apakah sekarang status saya di friendster masih akan 29, single? Hehehe… papa tersayang pernah bilang, apapun yang saya pilih, itulah pilihan terbaik. Saya setuju. Jadi untuk saat ini, hari ini, saya menikmati kota ini. Nggak  berandai-andai dengan kemungkinan pilihan di masa lalu. Saya sudah memilih yang terbaik. Even if I had the chance to turn back the time, I would’ve made the same choice anyway…

Melbourne, June 23, 2008
Some things are meant to be, some things are not.
(For a little secret I discovered, somewhere between Indonesia and Australia: that I can be a bloody good *********** — at least, in my opinion :-P).

                         Finally, a quiet moment to write, after some hectic weeks of meeting deadlines, scheduling and rescheduling business travels (and couldn’t go anyway), and sure enough, answering to boss (who is retired a few days ago) and boss’s boss (who demands direct explanation after boss’ retirement) about how everything is going. Adrenaline has been high lately, and I feel just fine. Hmm, I think I love my job so deep that I don’t mind suffering the consequences (say that again?:-P). Anyway, I’m glad now I can relax a little, take a deep breath, close my eyes, and figure out some more plans in my mind.

            What a life. After all ups and downs along the way, finally I reached another clear stage.  The relief and comforts have been pampering me for some time, dragging me deeper into self satisfaction. Can’t even imagine what else I should ask. I live a life beyond my expectation – with everything I need (thank you, Lord), and everything I want. Actually, almost everything I want… (there we go again, and I still believe that I am not hard to satisfy:-P).

            I want to get out of this comfort zone. Not because I don’t treasure it, nor because I am not grateful for having it, but because I have to do something with my life. This comfort zone provides me with stability, yet the stagnancy starts to disturb me. I am not going anywhere. As far as job concerns, I have been given a lavish opportunity that some said is too early (been working hard to prove otherwise), and I don’t dare to expect more in the near future. As for everything else, I think I am doing pretty well. I have no complaints whatsoever about anything – most of them are controllable; those that are not are manageable. I can say that my life now is in perfect balance.

            However, I know a time like this will happen again; a time when I want to break the balance and push myself to the limit, testing how far I can go. It is not the time yet for me to stay in such stagnant state of being, no matter how peaceful it is. If I live long enough to grow old and gray, maybe I will fight for it, even make believe that it’s still there while it is not anymore (I hope I am still allowed the ability to distinguish facts from twisted memories, if I must live that long). But for now, I don’t want to make it permanent.

            So, this is what I intend to do: I am stepping out the comfort zone. Now I must do everything in my power to ensure that this decision is worth making. And when the countdown begins… let come what may come. It seems that the days of high adrenaline are still far from the end.

April 11, 2008
Dreaming with eyes wide open.

        It’s Friday night again! With Saturday on its way and Sunday soon following it, I feel like new blood has been pumped to my vein. Well, that’s a little bit exaggerating, I think… But honest, I’m happy!

       Friday is always the day I cherish. It’s the time to celebrate friendship. Knowing that there are someone out there I can share my story with, have dinner, or sing (in my case, sing off-tune) in a karaoke room, is priceless. I think once a week is enough to release all tensions and turn it into laughters as I chat lightly with my friends — you know, some nonsense talks like a long fat brown dog (Dongga, a daschund with whom I share the family house), a newly-discovered reasonably-priced gym, hot gossip in office, big sale in major department stores… And sometimes we talk of the dreams we are trying to reach — her wish to pursue a doctoral degree, his quest in finding a soulmate, my passion to… (OK, I’ll save it for myself :-P). Isn’t life so sweet to have me surrounded by such friends?

        Saturday is the day to enjoy a long, good night sleep. You know, one of the best parts of living alone (with a dog, actually) is that you never have to explain why you are still in bed at 8 and have breakfast right on your bed (sorry Mum…). Then, if the craziness of Friday night doesn’t extend to Saturday, the whole morning will be fully scheduled with… house cleaning. Right. That’s not a very good part of living alone. Then, I do the cooking (taste good for me!), following by laundry (I miss koin raundorii no doraia!), bathing Dongga, and finally… I can have the rest of the day to indulge myself: reading, drawing, watching national geographic channel, evening walk with Dongga, drawing, and reading again… some simple things I will miss on weekdays.

        Sunday starts with attending morning service at church, but by mid day the gloom of Monday’s hustle and bustle starts to spoil the fun (I know, it shouldn’t be…). There’s not much to do on Sunday — just wash the car and cover it to keep it fresh for next weekend, do the cooking again (big quantity — freeze it  for  next  week’s supply! Eeewww!), and  finally  some self-indulgence again: reading, drawing, and national geographic channel.  And another evening walk with Dongga.

        Now, as I sit here in empty office room waiting for some friends taking me out for dinner, I wonder what this weekend will bring to me. Besides the routines, of course. Oh, I know. Maybe I will finish the computer game I started a month ago… Oh, here they come. Bye now!

Jakarta, January 18, 2008
7.18 pm

It’s been almost 3 years since I quietly allowed
myself to be seated on passenger seat – which was good, to some extent, because
I could just sit, relaxed, and enjoyed the ride (if there was something to
enjoy at all). Practically I didn’t have to drive because there was no need to
do so in Japan, and whenever I came home for a visit, there was always someone who’d be willing
to drive for me. For a while after returning home, having nothing to do with
car and Jakarta traffic (which I hate for sure) made me feel nothing but glad
for being free from the hustle and bustle of crowded streets. But only for a
while, I suppose. With the passing time, I began to miss my old friend, a
petite black Starlet which used to be my running shoes. There began the search
for a replacement, which led me to a somewhat oversized (the fact that makes it
more handsome, actually), dark blue Ferio – my new car and someone else’s old
car. I am happy with it; however, a used car is all I can afford for the time
being. And this car is much better than my old one.

So there it goes. I am behind the wheel once again,
and it feels damn good. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t drive on weekdays that
makes it more like a leisure, maybe it’s the feeling of independence that runs
in my vein (I bought this car, I paid for the gasoline, I drive it myself – I
make my own fortune and I am proud of it!). Whatever it is, I feel so good that
it’s hard to believe that only a few weeks before it I was at one of the lowest
points of my life.

Yep, the lowest point of my life. The beginning of
this year surprised me with realities that really rocked my peaceful, balanced
life. Somehow it affected me in a way I never imagine. I felt lost, regret, and
guilt – I kept wondering what might have happened if I had chosen different
option in the past. I questioned myself about the reasons I considered before
making up the decision, the very
decision that might be the cause for what happened and for my current state of
being. I am ashamed now to admit that for some time, I was not being myself.

Thank’s God, nothing in this world lasts forever. So
does the lost of myself. I found a grip on the facts that were there all the
times; the facts I didn’t see because of the guilts and regrets that clouded
me. I found comforting answers to my questions. It was not my mistake at all. I
did what I had to do given the circumstances at that time. Despite the
suspicion that I had the lies in my words, I know that I told the true, that my
intention was pure, and that I preserved my honor by being loyal to my
commitment. I am not to put the blame on me (thank you Lord for being my
shelter).

It makes me smile now that I realize how the hardship
which just passed is quite similar to my coming back behind the wheel. I
thought I lost my Starlet, but it is not the car that I really miss. I miss
being in control and independent as I used to be. Once I am in a better car, I
can barely remember that I once had a Starlet! In asmuch the same way, I think
it is not the lost of someone or something that really matters. It is the absence
of happines that once there that is quite hard to accept. I don’t need that particular
someone, or that particular something; what I need is the happines. Only the
happiness. With this understanding, I welcome my old self that I love – my old
self that is logical and determined – with the addition of new lessons I
learned – I am the one who is responsible for my own happiness.

      I used to think that this kind of thing only happened in movie, or at least, it happened to other people but me. Yep, until those two fateful nights in the livingroom where I spent the last six days.

      I was — once again — blessed with the opportunity to travel to the other side of the world. This time, it was Switzerland. But, as in the case of many other student-arranged travels, I was unable to choose my own accommodation. Instead of  staying in a hotel, I was assigned as a guest to a female Swiss student who shared her apartment with three other guys. It was arranged previously that I would spend the nights in their livingroom with another student guest. The good news was, the livingroom was spacious enough to accommodate both of us. The bad news was, the other guest — my room mate — was a man. An American, to be precise. We spent the first night arranging the matresses so that we did not need to see each other while sleeping, which was quite easy. I slept behind the sofa, and he on the other side. The first four nights went unnoticed since we both rarely saw each other after the busy days. Then, the story began.

      My fifth night in Switzerland. It was early in the morning. I had a strange dream. Eyes fluttering, I thought I was in a movie scene. People were screaming in excitement. A woman was giggling. A man was moaning. My first guess was about the ‘what’. I thought I was dreaming of watching a hardcore film. But the sound effect was so real. In fact, it was too real. And the giggle and the moan too. I reached for my alarm clock, which was not yet ringing. 5 a.m. Yeah, and those noise was not only in my head. There were two people attempting to release their hormon. My first guess missed. I was not dreaming of a hardcore film. I was in a live show. It was shocking, embarassing, and disturbing — I couldn’t go back to sleep (who could, anyway?), and could not get up either for I did not wish to see two people in their most intimate moment. My second guess went with the ‘who’. I had no doubt that the man was the American, but no idea about the woman.  I worried that the woman was my host — I did not want her to know that I knew what she knew I knew… well, sort of Asian way of saving someone else’s ass, I think. So I stucked Ipod’s earphones in my ears, hoping that the music would camouflage all the moaning and screaming and other sounds I was not supposed to hear. That worked for several minutes, before mother nature had an urgent call for me. And she really meant it, urgent. I had to answer, of course…

      There, I stood, almost running to the bathroom, trying not to look at what happen on the other side of the room. When I came back — this time my entrance faced them straightforwardly — there was the evidence of what I heard. A half naked white (and stupid, I assume) man from his belly down, and a woman wrapped in blanket; their pale feet poking out from the blanket in an awkward position. All I could think was leaving the room a.s.a.p, and that meant taking a shower at this very early morning. Let come what might come. Cough or cold or whatever, I just had to find my way out of this room. I was relieved to know that my host was waiting in front of the bathroom’s door when I finished — for it meant that it was not her who did the ‘performance’ in the living room. The couple were still there when I came back to pack my bag — a too early packing, actually — and the woman wake up and exclaimed in surprise, "My God, there’s someone here!" to which the man answered calmly, "It’s OK…" That confirmed my assumption that the man was stupid indeed, and the woman surely was no different with him as far as intelligence mattered.

      And that is not the end of the story. The following night, the same people came back to do exactly the same thing — also in the living room where I stay. They learnt that I woke up rather early, so this time they came in the middle of the night — which obviously made no difference since their noise would surely awaken anyone within one-meter radius (still stupid, eh?). Well… I was never an opponent to free sex or whatsoever (though I have no wish to be committed in one), but being in the same room with two people doing their most private business — twice — was more than I could chew. So I stood and said to them to find a private place to do whatever they were doing.

       Whoever said that sex is a love expression should think that the same sex can also disgust someone else. Whoever said that free sex is a western culture that should be tolerated by today’s moral standard must know that the same western culture should also tolerate other cultures with different point of views. By not being an opponent to free sex, and not making bad comments on those who believe it as merely love expression, I think I have done my part in this world of tolerance. But there is a limit to everything. I don’t care if it is an American, European, Australian, African, or even my fellow Asian, but making love in someone else’s presence (against his/her will, of course) proves nothing but the lack of cultural tolerance and — of course — human intelligence. I think I will always repeat the same request when unwillfully witnessing the living room sex situation. But, of course, I hope there will never be next time.

OK, I am fed up with this thesis matter. I gotta boost my spirit… come on baby, you know I’m running out of time… (so you know it’s some kind of bribe, eh? Well, I hope it does make you happy…)

1. I love to set high standards (it’s good for self motivation, isn’t it?)

2. I can persistently focus on my goals (and make my dreams come true…)

3. I don’t get bored easily (there’s always something interesting to do!)

4. I can have good time even when I’m alone (I’m a blessed introvert!)

5. I like trying something new (it makes my life so colorful!)

6. I respect anyone who consider me a competitor (it’s an honor to know that he thinks I’m good…)

7. I cook quite good food (as a result of living alone in Tokyo)

8. I’m not annoyed (anymore) with the ideal barbie-doll figure and flawless porcelain complexion (with some good readings you can always find someone to impress)

9. I am not allergic to any food, drinks, and drugs (whoaa!! that’s the best part when you go traveling!)

10. I am what I am and I love it! (I think narcism is contagious… if you mingle a lot with narcists, you will become one… but hey, you can’t love others unless you can love yourself first, right?)

Well… that’s all… go, girl, go!

      A cousin’s account inspired me to write this. In her ‘favorite movies’ column, she wrote that her favorite TV show was ‘Desperate Housewives’. Then she added a tickling comment like this: "I am thinking of making its prequel: ‘Desperate Singles’." I laughed when reading her witty humurous lines (that’s what I love about her — hey sist, I hope you read this one. It is dedicated tou you :-P).

      Desperate singles, eh? OK, my twenties era is almost over. Good job, first class education, and unlimited opportunities in the future won’t give me back the time. For countless times, I feel uncomfortable with all those questions from friends and relatives about the ‘big M’. It feels like I want to scream to make them stop asking me about it. I think most female species in my age will agree that wedding invitations from soon-to-be-bride friends are enough to be constant reminders that the biological clock is ticking…. Yeah, and we don’t need more people to remind us about that.

        All I can say is that there are more things to do than just feeling desperate about being singles. OK, I am single, so what? I am young and full of life. I have a precious brain in my head, in which I invest heavily, and finally get to use it in the right way. I travelled half of the world, I studied in a prestigious college, I live a decent life in Tokyo, I have a  job that many people envy. A desperate single is out of question. Come on, I have all resources to make my life worthwhile. What else can I ask?

      I am a single, yes, and a happy one. It’s the choice I make,  I want to remain this way, at least for the time being, and I am willing to pay the price (I wish I could make those people understand, so they would stop asking about the ‘big M’ in my presence). I have so many dreams to pursue, I am working on them, and this condition provides me with the most suitable environment to accomplish my plans.  So, for the time being, I just want to enjoy my life as a happy, 27-year-old single. A desperate single? No way. Do I sound too confident? Darned right. And I worry more about being a desperate housewife.

      Here is my firts blog, finally. After months of waiting for the ‘right time’ to write — which never come, of course — i take this quiet moment trying to write something, anything. OK, now where should I start?

      Hmmm… I think I will restate the phrase I’ve said for thousands times since I arrived in Japan: I like it here. I love Tokyo. I enjoy the feeling of safety, even when I am still out in the middle of the night. I cherish the assurance that the next train will arrive in 3 minutes, without any possibility of delay. I thank God for the single seats in coffe shops and restaurants, realizing how natural it is to be alone in this crowded city. I do like it here, and this shower of blessings once made me to stop and think: am I here because I am smart, of because I am simply lucky?

      A friend of mine once challenged me to answer this dillematic question. Trivial it might seem, but what a thoughtful answers I must sought to leave me at peace after letting the words out of my mouth! I couldn’t proclaim that I am smart, because good girls are not arrogant (according to my mom), and telling someone outloud that you are smart is not acceptable in the place where I come from. At least, if there should be an open statement that you are smart, let it not come from you. So, it left me with one answer: I was lucky. Oh, how I hated that word! Cinderella was lucky,  she had a fairy godmother helping her out when she was crying in a kitchen (in my case, crying would give me nothing but swollen eyes). Snow White was lucky too, because it was a prince charming, instead of a half-dead zombie, who came for her rescue (by the way, I think all little girls should not be told about this kind of fairy tales. Let them learn from strong women. Victoria. Marie Curie. Joan D’Arc. Any woman but a princess who just sit and waited to be rescued! Oh, by the way, i gotta go back to the topics, right…. :-P) Well, definitely, I didn’t want to admit that I got this chance because of luck. Hey, there’s nothing to be proud of when you are only ‘lucky’, isn’t it?

      So i stopped for a few seconds to think. I mean, to really think. Then, a flashback came to me like an enlightment.  I remembered the the years I spent to master my second language. I counted the numbers of ups and downs during my search for this chance. I recalled all prayers I said, humbly asked Him for His mercy to let me find what I was seeking.  I remembered all the nights when I was still up, even though it was late, trying to figure out the answers for homeworks problems. I knew that, when I was in my search, I was fully devoted. And God knew it too.

      I told my friend my final answer. I worked hard, so He gave this chance to me, I said. There was a complete silence between us for a few seconds.  We both knew that a chance like this is not without a cost. All the efforts and the broken dreams, and then all the efforts and the broken dreams again… until you finally got it. And after all you’ve been through, you know with all your heart that it was worth doing.

      I am happy to be here. I am grateful for this chance. I love my life here as much as I love mine back home. I love being who I am, and what I am, with all experiences I cherish. I want nothing else but this life of mine: the life I love to live.