No, This is not being a bitch

No, You can't go around telling people how a simple '~' could make your day, bring out your smile, and help you relax, 

then

to just throw them out of your life simple because you don't know how to handle them.

Coffee, Tea, and I Love You

a promise to him

He wished he were a glass of milk.

Do you remember when you're this little baby who couldn't eat anything other than milk? And when you're older, you had a glass of warm and sweet milk, then you'd brush your teeth before safely reached for your bed. It's the safe feeling that you're gonna be fine during the dark night and sound sleep, because you knew that Mom had already made the milk evil-proof; and you're immune to anything bad. Because you knew that there's this little pray that Mom had silently poured along with the liquid, that you knew somehow, despite the nightmare, you'd be fine. Mom was gonna be there.

This was not about it.

Because now, he had grown out to a fine man. It's his turn to take care of his Mom... 

Do you remember the first time you knew strawberry? Chocolate? And perhaps honey? All the sweets, they're tasty but bad for your teeth. But then the chemical people blend those sweets you adore into chocolate milk, strawberry milk, and so on. You're happy that for the first time in your life, milk was not that plain anymore. Milk was not always white anymore. And it gave a sense of luxury. The sense of a sophisticated personality; for now milk is chemically processed.

But this was also not about it.

Because all he ever wanted to be was only a decent guy, a simple and down-to-earth guy. He didn't wanna be special, because it's merely not who he was.

He knew it best that milk was healty. Milk had anything a person could want. Carbohydrate to protein to fat. To vitamin and minerals. Even those who couldn't digest lactose in a milk, could actually use a fermented milk they called as yoghurt. Yes, it was sour. But go to Sour Sally and take a look on happy and satisfied people. They love their yoghurt. Too much fat? Try the low-fat milk. Need more calcium? Easy, just find a certain brand. Want to gain weight? Turn to milk.

Yet again, that was not what he wanted.

Because he learnt that by time, you couldn't be everything for a person. It's tiring and useless.

He really wished that he were a glass of milk.

Not in the sense that he's not grateful for what he's now.

He knew that so many people favored him over some other things. He knew that in a humble way, he's perfect. That he should be counting his blessings.

But, the bottomline here is, he fell for a cup of coffee.

So bitter that it almost sucked out all the happiness known to people.

So black that it was color-blind.

So caffeinated that it was representing the insomniac nights you had when you're working up late, and there's no one to come home to.

So he wanted to be a glass of white milk.

So sweet that perhaps he could trade the sadness into a smile; even a light smile would be enough.

So white that he could bargain the darkness into grey, or brown.

So relaxing, caffein-free, that perhaps he could bring some peace to the night.

So that he could be together with a cup of coffee.... There. Simple. Easy.

But he's just a glass of tea.

The Love of Siam..

 warning: SPOILER!

(+)Ohh. Too bad. That's the last piece.
(-) It's ok. I'm happy enough that you bought this for me.

How do you know when is the first time you feel the love in your heart? Do you realise it when you feel that your heart is pounding? Or when you find yourself keep thinking about him? Or is it just the rush in the first minutes when your eyes meet his, then you have this urge that you simply can't avoid, can't escape, nor can you hide?

For me, I prefer a love that appears so silently, so suddenly, that you don't even realise that it's love, until the very first day you find yourself can't live without him. You agonize over the misery of parting with him. And you keep counting the day, till you both will meet again. Then you start to wonder, when the day comes under your nose, what would have been? What would you say? Would he still be the same? Nevertheless, you hold this ticket so tight in your heart, travelling through the train of time, and hoping that one day, you'd make a stop at a right station: a station which would bring you guys together again...

Have you heard that there is a place?

If we get there, we
will have everything.

It will wait for us at the end of the way.

And we need only one ticket.

We can go and come back many times.

What will you tell me when you come back?

I'm wondering if it's true.
I want to see it.

Even if I have to go by foot.
If there's something when I get there.

Even if the ticket is so expensive.

Whatever I have to pay, I'll get it.

So, there they were. They eventually met. And it was difficult to avoid the chemistry between the two teenager. Was it because they're childhood friends? Was it because they're finally meeting each other again? Was it because of love? Was it because the sweet past that Tong had before his sister was gone?

So many 'how have you been?'s were thrown in the atmosphere, and you can't help but smile. It was sweet. It was adorable. But did Tong come in too late? Too late in the sense that Mew was already damaged to some point that he was actually feeling frighteningly lonely... But is there really a 'too late' in term of love?

If we love someone so much, How can we bear it that one day we will be separated by death? And... that losing someone is part of life? Is it possible, Tong? That we love someone, and we're not afraid of losing them. At the same time, I was wondering...Is it possible...that we can live without loving anyone at all? That's my loneliness..I have lived with it for 5 years. I really know how bad that feels. And it will get worse....

And in the end, were those question really important? Because they actually met. You'd think that he could help Mew wipe away the sorrow, the pain, and he could actually share his loneliness. So he let his guard down. It was like finding the lyrics for your melody. And together, you're just completed. Mew wrote the song, so beautiful that it was actually painful, especially when you knew what happened in the end. To see such a sweet and happy smile from his face; it was like he's saying that he'd finally met someone. Someone that made everything seemed to be not that worse.

That song. It's so beautiful. How did you write it?
Umm. Without you, there won't be such a song. What do you say after listening to it?
I don't know.

Then a kiss. A kiss was supposed to be more than a word could say, wasn't it? You touched your lips, and you could still feel the warmth. You're happy that you didn't even try to ask: what was that kiss for? Why did he kiss me? Was it a love so pure? Was it a feeling so naive? Was it something that you just won't find anymore? There, I actually could draw a line: It's love, it's not lust. Puppy love, you might say; Not real, you might judge, but really, it's not time to be so cynical here.

So, as the minutes of the movie went by, there was this hope, in my chest, that this was finally it. That this is the happy ending I have longed for.

I can't be with you as a boyfriend, but it doesn't mean I don't love you..

My world stopped.

I had to admit that what Tong said bothered me a lot, to the extent that I cried, alone, in the middle of the night. Yet I was also amazed to find myself trying to look for a reason why they couldn't be together. Come on, Tong said he loved Mew. I am a person who believes that there shouldn't be any other reason that two people are not in a relationship other than that they don't love each other enough. Then, does that mean Tong was just not that into Mew? If that's not the reason, then what? Was it because Tong perhaps thought that he wasn't the best for Mew? Was it because his family background and condition were already leaving no room for Mew? Or...

...was it because destiny forbid them being together? 

I can see no path that can lead me forward

In darkness with my lonely heart

In darkness without your heart near mine

The night can be so very long,

When I can see no light from the sky

The more I look around, the more I become afraid

Of the night that has yet to pass

Is there any other way to go?

I know the sun will shine tomorrow

When we are in the new morning,

I hope that we will find the way

Or my heart will be in the endless night

When the sorrow of yesterdays,

come crushing on my lonely heart

The reason I lost our love is because

I neglected the needs of both our hearts

My suffering became an endless night

but it will soon come to pass

As long as time goes by so will my sorrow

Because the thought of our love means there is no endless night

When we are in the new morning, we'll find a way from this endless night

You must recognize the familiar dark feeling inside your heart. Still, within the same time, there's also this hope you keep burning. That we all are struggling to come to terms with who and what we are.

And as I was writing this, I was once again reminded: Why there must be a label for everything? One just has to label his own feeling towards someone: hate? love? anxious? worry? Throw me your adjectives. So many out there describing the sole emotion we have. Is it just me or is it true that emotion supposedly can't be described with words? Then after the label for what you feel, you go on labelling him. What do you want him to be in your life? A friend? A soul-mate? A boy-friend? The one and only? What? Has LABEL become an important part in our life? What does it show? A commitment? A respect? Responsible? Can we be happy without the label? Or are we just gonna end up un-satisfied, wondering, and all?

Overall, would I say that this is sad? Despite the tears?

No.

I would say that this movie is so beautiful. So haunting, because once more, we're shown that there's hope. There's love. There's happiness...

...Because you have so much love for one another.
Even though, sometimes,it seems to be too much...that it hurts you, but I believe...when time goes by...we would all understand...that there is no such thing as 'too much love'.

And deep down, I promise to myself, that I'd be happy.

I'd be happy with the love filling my chest, for a man standing so close by my side....

But now,

well,

I could really use a hug. :-)

The Dream Guy

Ally: Love isn't always enough.
Larry: Yeah, it is. You go without it long enough, and you realize it's everything.

Ally:....

(Ally McBeal, s04e10)

It was a lovely afternoon when a blogger next-door asked me specifically about the guy of my dream. Frankly, I don't know why he cared - well, later he revealed that he wanted me to stick to that dream, because one day the guy would exist for me, like what happened to him - because I don't really care about the dream-guy - I'd tell you later why. Yet, I told him nevertheless.

It brought me to this memory when I was still in high school. No, it's not a senior from my school, and it's not my teacher. But it was this guy on television. Yeah, you're allowed to laugh now. To be more specific, it was a guy from this series, Ally McBeal. Well, at some point, I kind of come to a conclusion that if you're PLU, then you must know about the series.

I was not a regular fan back then, given my dark background, but I managed to watch a very few episodes about him, on RCTI; of which were enough to profile the guy of my dream. So, meet Larry Paul, portrayed by Robert Downey Jr. He joined the cast for only one season, season 4, and you'd notice the guy recently from Iron Man, after he's back from his narcotics past. But really, I was not a fan of this Robert guy, so my attraction to Larry Paul was not because he's cute or something like that.

But if it's not the case, then what? What exactly do I see in Larry Paul?

Come in the first position is that he's smart. Very smart that he's playful. Playful in a gentle way, not in a jerk way. The look he gave from his glasses? Speechless. Yet, he's so damaged, to some extent, that he's carrying this pain in his chest. But he's not dwelling in it too much. He moved forward, and let himself to love and be loved. He learnt from his failure in love, instead of letting himself being miserable. He let himself being a fool in front of Ally, because he's not a chauvinist nor a bigot. He's not a narcissistic guy that he got room for his lover. My God, he even put a red-blinking ball onto his nose, and it's adorable. He's miserable every Christmas, but he's willing to let Ally cheer him up. He played the piano, and he composed a song for Ally, after his being honest that he kissed his ex. And above all, he didn't step back when he knew that Ally had her own insecurity. He didn't rush everything, which showed that he's got a very good self-control. He tried to understood, and hence, fight for Ally. He listened to Ally, took her seriously, and HE DIDN'T JUDGE. He respected Ally that much. And I adored him that much, and sincerely wished that this time Ally had really met the one, that Larry would stay.

But He chose his son. I didn't quite remember, but I was actually picking this series as I'm writing this post, so hopefully I'd know the details. Deep down, I know that I shouldn't be affected. I knew that back then, Robert was hardly concious from his drugs that the producer had to let him go. It's a lousy plot there, but nevertheless, I was devastated.

So there I sat, watched the love filling the atmosphere in the cathode tube of the television. I told myself that I'd get a guy like that, someday. I prayed so hard for it. But soon as I grow up - and thus, older - I learn that reality wasn't always that sweet. Based on my experience, most guys around me nowadays don't really know the word 'Responsible', let alone 'Respect'. One day they could tell you that they love you, but then the next day, you'd be the last priority. One day he could tell you that you mean so much for him, but then as the hardship strikes, he's just the same selfish person you'd meet on street that he actually thought you're bugging him when you shared what you felt. And it's even harder for us, AJ crowd, because it's only a slightly thin line between love and lust. And the closet we're hiding in? It's so comfortable that there's really no use to talk about a long future together. You must be very familiar with the term 'I'm required to get married one day', right?

Wait, am I being bitter, here? I hope not. I know that it really takes two to tango. You need to be a good guy, to deserve another good guy. Commitment is also about tolerance, if not indulgence. It's about understanding, and to some point, you'd say that love only is not enough - or to the worst extent, you'd say that it's a BS. But where do we draw the line? Just because he happens to be the guy of our dream, does that mean he's flawless? Does that mean we have to stick to him no matter how a jerk he turns to be? Do we really need to let him define us?

So, when you ask me about my dream-guy? Honestly, it's not my priority now. Because by time, I learn to compromise, to try to be wiser, to be more mature. I lament, of course - all.the.time, you might say - but who doesn't? Try to go longer without love. Try to love someone so deeply - your first love, even - to the extent that you share everything with him, only to be let go for a very vague reason. Try to meet with so many jerks, that you start to wonder: what's wrong with me?

But to the top of all, I still do believe in fairy-tale. If you ask me whether there's even a slight hope that I'd be lucky enough to meet my dream-guy, I'd still say YES. But I also understand that it's okay that the fairy-tale don't come true. Because I'd still be fine. Because I also know that not everybody could meet his dream-lover. It's perhaps once in a blue-moon.

fiction: I know

"I love you."

That's the first sentence he said that morning. It was when we both just woke up, with this oily face, tousled hair, and acid mouth. There's nothing good we both could display. More, it's still early, and hence, the drowsiness was still hanging in our eyes, the dreams was still dwelling in our head, and the consciousness was still to be found.

But that's the first thing he whispered to my ears, to my face, and to my head. Instead of a simple hi, or even a polite good morning. So I smiled back, then kissed him, but said nothing back. Not in the sense that I was silenced, shocked, amazed, or something like that, that prevented me to say anything back. More to the fact that I had nothing to say.

I got up, then reached for the blanket to cover his nude body and walked to the bathroom. I wore my clothes sleeping, mind you. Nothing was better than hot water in the morning; it was so relieving and fresh that I felt alive, again.

It wasn't until a few minutes that I heard him walked in. He hugged me from behind, kissed my back, and let the sprinkling water from shower get him wet. Get me wet. Get us, wet.

I smiled, again. I could feel his breath, his passion, and his morning erection.
"Is there anything you'd like to say?" He whispered.
"Such as?"
"I don't know. Perhaps about this morning?"
This time, I laughed. I turned around, and looked into his eyes. He was that tall, so I needed to gaze upward. I kissed him, again.

Then, after a short pause, I asked him, slowly, and quietly.. "Why?"
He was starled. "Why what?"
Hm.. that cute face he was making, I could just eat it up.. It was something like..did I do something wrong - and If I did, please forgive me?
"Why do you love me?"
This time, he was silenced. A very long pause. Then he walked out.

I finished my shower not long after.
With just a towel wrapping, I walked out to find him sitting in the edge of our bed. He's still wet, so I took off my towel to dry him.
"What's the matter?"
A long pause, again. Then he grabbed my hand, and made me sit on his lap.
"Weird.."
I hugged his neck.
"I..." he swallowed all of his doubt, "I don't know why I love you."
"And now you thought that it was something that I did to you? A spell or something dark and evil?"
For a moment, we only shared our stare. Then we both burst out laughing.
I hugged him so tight.

"I love you too."
.
.
.
.
"I know."

Think TWICE before you READ

So no one told you life was gonna be this way *clap*clap*clap*clap*

Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOA

It's like you're always stuck in second gear

When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year

You meet strangers over the internet. MIRC, Messenger, Facebook, and perhaps when you’re blog-walking.

Slap me, kill me, but correct me, but I think the first intuition you go with is to find what’s similar between you and him.

Mutual interest, same hobbies, or anything like that.

You build your first impression regarding him, and if you’re both connected in some way, you go on. Either as a friend, an acquaintance, or perhaps something more serious than that – No, I’m not talking about sex.

Or at least, that is the case with me. I am not an extrovert person. I keep my stuff inside. What’s personal to me isn’t really personal to you too. For example, the previous post before this? It’s that personal to me. But I decide to share it, eventually, for there have been a few people saying that they wanted to know me better. They said that I could actually start from my background. So there it was. I don’t really find it interesting. I don’t really find it worth your time. But this is me, trying to be personal, as I am a person too.

So, anyway, when you approach, or I approach you, I’d find something similar between us, first. And by reading this blog, you guys know already what I’m talking about. Honestly, I’m not looking for ‘just’ a friend over the internet. I am looking for a very particular kind of friend. A friend ‘like me’. A friend ‘like us’. I don’t wanna sound shallow, but sorry and no-offense, I already have friends more than enough. But what I can’t get from the real life, I have to find it somewhere else. And I do find some quite nice PLU-friends from the internet. I have been friends with a few for almost 6 years now, and hopefully it’s still counting. I have even spent the night over at their place. Meeting their parents. We have fights, of course, but like he told me once, Good friends are like butt-cheeks, they’re still together even sh*t comes between them.

So how do I start a friendship like this? What do I talk? Firstly, of course some standard questions to help me do the profiling. Your age, your hobbies, and so on. I just need to know. But for me to actually talk stuff like that? You have to wait. I get comfortable, too comfortable even, talking about AJ’s love life, for the –say- appetizer. Why? Because I don’t get the chance to share it with someone from my real life. But unfortunately, my love life is so messed up that it makes me sound like I’m complaining. How so? Tell you about it next time. Just, it even suggests that I’m not a whole person. That I’m – say- negative. That I lament, all the time, because there’s nothing much I could talk.   

But one thing here, I lament not because I don’t know how to be happy. You may say I’m bitter. But life itself is not always that sweet, right? A person actually told me that my posts are all about the bitter things. That’s true. You know why? Because all the bitterness needs a place to go. Needs a dump. But to throw it away just like that? Where’s the learning point? So I post it all over the blog, to just read it someday, again. This is me, trying to cope with my own life. And readers MAY HAVE OPINION. I’m ready to take the blow, of course. Throw your adjectives to me. Because I DO THINK THAT IF YOU CAN’T TAKE CRITICS, THEN DON’T WRITE! Ever think that if a friend is criticizing you, it means he cares??? Ever think that he means no harm?? It’s a whole another case if it’s a stranger who’s criticizing you. But still, if you let other people define you, who’s the dumbest of all? Really. And does A CRITIC ALWAYS MEAN THAT THE PERSON IS NOT HAPPY WITH YOU? WITH YOUR POSTS???? Hullo?? Who’s so self-absorbed here????  

The bottomline here, I’d label myself as dark and twisted. Insecure, to some extent. And for your information, it’s not a flaw. And I’m not alone – open your horizon, there’re so many dark and twisted people out there, but they’re at the same time, could appear to be happy, too. Dark and twisted are two adjectives different from being negative. But have you ever wondered why I am dark and twisted? Have it occurred to you that perhaps it’s one of so many self-defence mechanisms? Have it occurred to you that perhaps a melancholic person can’t avoid being mellow? Have it occurred to you that perhaps it's a great deal you'd be doing by JUST LISTENING???? WITHOUT JUDGING??  FYI, It’s not because of my family background, or how I’m raised. If you can’t understand that, then why bother? Save your energy, save your time, and save your emotion. I am sure I am not worth it.

You're still in bed at ten and work began at eight

You've burned your breakfast so far... things are goin' great

Your mother warned you there'd be days like these

Oh but she didn't tell you when the world has brought

You down to your knees that...

See, the person I am inside, is the one little-boy, who’s seeing everything in a pre-cautious way. I worry too much. But does it stop me from reaching good things? From fighting my own way to happiness? No. If there’s anything I do good, it’s fighting for my own dream. I didn’t rise from a poor kid to what I am now without the spirit of fighting, did I? But a dream, to me, doesn’t have to be said out loud. It exists intimately. I shared my dreams only twice: to my ex and to a Caucasian. And what happened then? I lost contact with both that I actually thought to myself: What’s the point of sharing dreams? Moreover, I have always dreamt my dreams alone. You know my family background, right? We’re taught to fight for our own dream, by our own effort, not to just depend on others too much.

And here you label me as being the person who laments. Did I ever tell you that I actually don’t enjoy my work? Did I ever tell you that life in this B-town is not so lively that I’m bored? And so many other things like that, that I won’t share. Why? Because it’s the price I have to cope with. Because I do know that life isn’t always about the ups, but also the downs.. Because I am actually okay with the downs. Because I do think that it makes me only human if I choose to share the downs with you.. And I’m truly sorry if that’s what bugs you.

You know, you could actually tell me your worries, your problems. I am actually a good listener. From only a dump to a few good advices, try me.

No one could ever know me

No one could ever see me

Seems you're the only one who knows

What it's like to be me

Someone to face the day with

Make it through all the rest with

Someone I'll always laugh with

Even at my worst I'm best with you, yeah

Lastly, you might consider this as a rebuttal. How I smartly twist all the words, and all. But I’m telling you, I’m the person who would speak my mind out. If I feel that it’s not okay with me, that it’s not right, then I’m going to tell you. I don’t blame you if you don’t wanna listen. Long as you know, if you have me fighting you back, arguing back with you, it only means I do care. I still care. There’s this fellow blogger, who I’m sure is writing about me in his blog, but I don’t even bother to explain things there. I just don’t care.

And so that you know, this will be my last explanation. I’m done trying to explain myself to a person who judges TOO MUCH without giving others a time and a fair chance to explain themselves.

Because in the end, I’d only end-up being the bad guy. Because in the end, a kid like me doesnt ever get a chance to speak his mind. Because in the end, sharing your problem with a stranger over the internet would only cause your heart broken in pieces.

I'll be there for you

When the rain starts to pour

I'll be there for you

Like I've been there before

I'll be there for you

'Cuz you're there for me too...

Don't Relate.

How could someone be falling from grace?

One moment, you thought you had it. One moment, you thought you're happy. Then you blinked your eyes, and everything was lost. He was around 9 or 10, and it was the day that he lost his father. He looked back and he saw his siblings: 3 brothers and 2 sisters. Not to mention an old mother who pretty much didn't know what she's going to do. It was all so abruptly taken away: like a thief, stealing your precious in the middle of the night, and after you woke up, there's no more time for regret. No more space for your tears. And all he could think were his siblings. What could he do? What about the future? Was it okay to be scared?

That very night, he had to grow up. He had to give away his dreams. He had to give away his education. He had to give away his childhood. For he was the oldest child, and it didn't need to be said that the responsibility was his. So he started to do anything he could to earn money. The sole thought that it was up to him to feed his family, kept his small feet moving forward, and then return home with all he could earn, then give it to his mother, to share with his siblings....sometimes it was less than enough. But he had to cope with it. Don't imagine. Don't relate.

Nevertheless, years went-by. He grew-up, watching his siblings grew up. Giving the best education he could get to them. And perhaps there were a little pride inside his small heart, that his youngest brother was actually finishing high school. It was 1960s, and at the time, high school was already good. Or at least, sufficient. In some way, he knew that the trading - his own happiness; starting from love life to his own health - for his siblings' success, was all worth it. He didn't regret anything.

Then he sent away all his siblings. He got married the last. And again, after his children were born, he had no much time to think about himself... And before he knew, the bitter past had taken away all the glory. He was not as healthy as he used to be. He was born premature, after all. He had this genetic heart-disease that he later knew..when it was already too late.

He passed away, silently, in his office, in a quiet night. And perhaps, happily..

His children were no much older than he was when his father left him.

There was no chance at all, for a dramatic nor romantic good-bye. Heck, there was no chance of good-bye, at all. Death could be that scary, and you're alone. And the sudden empty-hole inside your heart? You just don't what to fill it with, except your tears. So you cry.

Hurriedly.

He went so hurriedly that he missed everything from his sons' lives.

He didn't get to see how his kids were not that spoilt -anymore.

He didn't get to see how his kids were trying so helplessly to help their mom, helping in every little way they could know. From delivering cakes to bread, from a small juice to helping laundry from next door. Anything. Anything mattered. Every single penny was worth it.

He didn't get to see how his kids then were beating themselves up, trying to earn the scholarship for it was the only ticket to continue the education. There was no time to be proud, for it was something they had to do, to survive. There was no reward. There was no anything. It's just something his kids had to do.

He even missed the time when his kids started to give private lessons. Earning money.. to survive. Who said that surviving is cheap?

But on a good side, he missed the times his kids were feeling so helpless when their mother was sick.

He missed the times when his kids didn't know what to say when their classmates were talking about the new place to hang-out in town.

He missed the times when his kids had to stay in class during the break-time, just because they didn't have the money to spend outside. 

He missed the times when his kids were actually taking some food from relatives, to survive for one more day.

He missed the times when they dreamt something, but had to let it go because they didn't have money.

He missed the times when their mother cried in silent, night after night, after he was gone.

He missed the times when there was a racial riot, and all his kids could do was to hug their shaking mother so tight.

He missed the times when their mother was humiliated for being poor.

He missed the time when one of his sons were failing an exam.

.

.

.

Yet, like him, his sons were growing up. More mature than they had to be. He missed it. He missed the time when his sons were graduating from high school. Then he missed the times when one of his sons were going to a small town outside their home-town, to pursue better education. Can you live with not more than half a million a month? Don't imagine. Don't relate.

That day his sons were graduating? He couldn't even afford his mother coming to the town, to watch her monument of her devotion was now graduating. Finishing his 4 years of school with a very good GPA. He couldn't even look at his professor's face when he was asking him about his parents... But the bottomline was, he finally graduated.....

***

So, like I said. Don't imagine. Don't relate. I'm not showing off. I'm not showing you my pride. Talk about humility cake, I have eaten it more than you could imagine. Talk about pride, of which I have never considered that I actually have one.

That little girl you saw selling curd? Learning so hard that you felt pity for her?

I was her. But destiny was nicer to me. I had to admit that. For instance, I didn't have to travel far to earn money..

Do you know Laskar Pelangi? The movie was such a success that people everywhere were talking about the courage to reach their dreams. But what happened to people like Lintang? Who also had dreams, but just didn't have the chance to fulfill it?

Feel pity? Pity in the sense that you're grateful that you're not in their shoes, or pity in the sense that someone should help? Or even in the sense that you feel that you should help, but you just still can't do it?

Inspired? In the sense that the little kids could teach you a responsibility so big that your chest is swollen? Now, Let me tell you what's inspiring: Once, I dated a guy from an NGO. He fought kids in the street, to give them better education. He actually lives in remote area, and years have made him grown older than he actually is. Darker than he actually is. He gives away his family in Jakarta. He gives away his love life. There was actually time when he was so desperate that he saved his own money, by not eating dinner, just to help the poor. You know what he told me? He couldn't bring himself to eat when he knew that there're children out there who're not eating.

One day, he built a very simple housing, to accommodate the kids to study. But then, the land on where he built the housing was going to be used by the government. I couldnt recall what the project was.

He fought. He fought for the kids. He tried to stop the officers. But what did he get? His leg was shot. He was beaten and perhaps God was still kind enough at the time to let him live. He survived. But the scar was not gone. It was there and it is still there. He couldn't forget the face of his kids. He couldn't forget the disappointment...as they watched the housing of their dreams was destroyed.

I hugged him so tight that night. I wished I had the guts to share his journey. His fight. But I was chickened out. Talk about you being inspired. Talk about you had to travel that far just to find a revelation so simple like that. Talk about you being bothered when I brought this topic to you. Talk about you made it about you - inspired, ashamed, or whatever it is. What about the kids? What about them?

Don't imagine. Don't relate.

I don't relate, either.

Because I could never know how it felt to have to travel away so far from home, to earn some extra penny.

Because I could never know what it's like to have to be responsible at 6.

And so many things I could never know. 

One thing I do know, just help. Because at the top of all, they only need that.

They don't need the sympathy.. Just help.

Finding (My) Nemo

If a heart were a piece of rock, which you could just split up in parts, then perhaps I had left a piece of it in this one island. I wished that it would drown with the sea-current, grow with the sun, to just blossom as a beautiful reef... So that the next time I'd go there again, someday I don't know when, I'd find a big ridge of rock, so steady that it'd amaze divers, and whisper so intimately to me again: welcome back..

Last holiday season, a friend invited me to join her tour to Karimunjawa, a national marine park, Jepara off-shore. It's not yet as famous as Bunaken, Wakatobi, or Lombok, but it's quite nice there. The land is actually still virgin, the village is not so big that all the inhabitants seem to know each other. Everything is not yet commercialized there, like the over-rated Bali, so you'd expect a clean surrounding, and not-so-expensive things. More, the white sand, quiet islands, clear sea, the palm-trees, everything on the shore would remind of this movie Cast-Away, only in better shape. You're not actually cast away, you're not actually lost. I would call it escaping the town. And I do think it's a beautiful coincidence, that we're staying in this beach resort called Escape.

Although it's a village, don't you ever look down on it. The neighboring blogger would find it offensive and it would piss him off. So, seriously, don't. My room has a nice bathroom, a nice bed, and an air-con. The electricity may still be generated from a generator, but it's quite sufficient to support the water-pump, the lighting, and of course, the air-con. But beware of the mosquitoes; although it was said that there hasn't been any case of dengue fever nor the malaria, the bites would be annoyingly itchy.

The food? Er.. Well, if you're a big fan of sea-food, you're in your paradise, then. You don't like seafood? Don't worry, you still can eat, as there're still so many choices available. The food was tasty, but since I was there for almost a week, I got bored of seafood -  yet now, I miss it like crazy. LOL. Human! Tsk!

But enough about the land. How about below the sea-level?

There, there, have you watched this movie Finding Nemo? I bet you have. I cried from the first minutes, can you imagine that? It's quite embarassing, but the thought of the mother sacrificing herself to protect her egg-kids, and yet failed? I so hate the barracuda - nothing good could come from it, except a wonderful meal it would be on the table. *Grin*

But the real spirit is the father's love. How many movies or stories out there are telling about it? Suddenly, I miss my belated dad..

So anyway, it's quite the same as the movie. The reef, anemone, coral, even the clownfish itself. A friend of mine was actually seeing a rayfish, a barracuda, and a squid. The fishes were not so many as those in the movie, but it was quite okay. One advice, bring a piece of bread, then try to spread it in the ocean, and see the fish come to you. :-)

Don't forget to visit the shark, though. It could be scary at first, but it was actually not. The sharks were tamed from a long time ago, that it's not accustomed to attacking human. There was a story that one day, one of sharks was let go, but it then swam through the place nearby. It didn't swim through to taste her freedom in the vast ocean. Amazing, huh? Anyone thinking of having a shark as a pet? *Grin*

Make sure you'd return before the sun sets. It gets very dark at night in the ocean, you barely see anything, and you could get very lonely. The starry sky is good, though, and the local said that you could actually sit and count the falling-stars. But the real treat is when you get back to land to see the sunset. It is that breath-taking - if you get lucky enough to avoid the cloudy-dark sky.

 That very evening, the last day of my trip, from the bottom of my heart, I just said good-bye to Nemo, and hoping that the vast network below the sea would never be broken..