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..