WEB OF LOVE

Listen to how a simple ball of yarn became a web of love for one classroom of high school students.
Their teacher seated the students in a circle on the carpeted floor. One member of the group was instructed to toss a ball of yarn to someone across the circle, holding tightly to one end. The recipient took hold of the string and listened as the one who tossed it shared something that she especially liked about him. Keeping hold of the string, he then tossed the ball across the circle to someone else and affirmed something positive about her. The ball of yarn was tossed across and around the circle until everyone had both heard and shared encouragement...and thus the yarn became a woven web of love and good feelings....
Before they went their separate ways, the teacher took scissors and snipped through the web. Each person took a piece of yarn away as a remembrance of the special words they heard. Surprisingly, many of them wore cherished pieces of yarn around their wrists for days and weeks afterward.
Every year now, students ask their teacher to end the term with the Web of Love. It has become an annual tradition in their high school! Which goes to show how much encouragement means to most people.
Why wait? We can find opportunities to affirm others throughout the day. Few people grow weary of hearing sincere appreciation and praise. And each time you give it you help to create an invisible web of love that can last a lifetime.

(Excerpted from Steve Goodier)


Why wait guys?
Your girl is out there.

Ruang 1

Kita telah bertukar kunci dan sama-sama menghilangkannya.
Aku tersekap di kamarmu, kamu tersekap di kamarku.
Kapan ketemu?
Ir, kepadamu aku pernah bicara dan kepadaku kamu pernah berkata pula.
Kenapa kita baru saling dengar justru setelah masing-masing di luar pagar?
Akankah kita tetap berkeras hati cuma karena sebelumnya tak saling mengerti, atau mungkinkah berbincang lagi menepiskan keakuan menuruti gerak nurani, dengan mendeburkan penat gapura yang sesungguhnya tak pernah ada?

(Unknown Artist)


I found the poem, stashed in my pile of papers at home. I copied it from some love poems collection, a long time ago. It aches when I read it, over and over again, just minutes ago.

Why is love so difficult?

It hurts how you can fall in love with someone, so deeply, and not loved in return.
It hurts how you lost yourself to someone, the way you couldn’t possibly imagine, and never realized you have to bounce back, with pain, when things are not going the way you planned.
It hurts how you still shed tears every time you hear his name, or see his back once again, wishing you could hold him close and hope that everything stays the same.

But it even hurts more how you know nothing will bring things back.
Nothing.
Nothing nothing nothing.
Not even when you’ve fought yourself too hard, not even when you deny yourself some other love, not even when you’ve found someone who loves you a hundred times greater.

Am I just too filthy to deserve it?

The recent events went too far beyond my comprehension. If only I could turn back time now. I don’t know if I won’t lead the same mistake again. I don’t know if I won’t surrender to the same thing again. For it hurts to know all the consequences had I chose to live my life differently.

“It’s better to be loved than to love”
The common Javanese saying. I never believed I would ever get myself stuck in this situation. I thought my love was enough to conquer all. Maybe I was wrong.

I guess I just have to wipe my whiny tears and stand up, wake up and realize that I’m hurting far too many people by being myself.

I guess I have to ease my own pain…

Aku Ingin

Aku ingin mencintaimu dengan sederhana
Seperti
Kata yang tak sempat diucapkan kayu kepada api
Yang menjadikannya abu

Aku ingin mencintaimu dengan sederhana
Seperti
Isyarat yang tak sempat disampaikan awan kepada hujan
Yang menjadikannya tiada...

(Sapardi Djoko Damono)


I wish I’m granted this feeling.

Farewell…

A dear friend of mine said “it’s scary how every single day the sun shines as usual, people do their routines, and traffic runs as usual, but in some part of the world, someone mourns…”
I thought to myself. Why doesn’t the world stop for them?

Inna lillahi wa inna illaihi roji’un…
Yesterday happened to be one of those days for her. K’s father passed away yesterday morning.
Bp. H. Nurdin Mashud died at the age of 54, leaving a wife and 4 daughters. No illness whatsoever, no premonition, just sudden fatal heart attack. May he rest in peace.
I guess God must have wanted to see him earlier that He summoned him so suddenly.

K said, she’s let him go, if that’s how God planned it. Only one regret lingered in her mind. That she didn’t tend to him the last minutes when he was healthy. I couldn’t hold my tears any longer, while I know I should be the one to offer her my shoulders, giving her comforting consolations. But why was I stiff as a board?

K, you’ve proved yourself to be a far better daughter any father could possibly ask for, and you exceed his expectations on yourself. There are no parents in this world who are not proud of their children. But I never saw any parents ever more so proud of their children the way your parents are. You’ve guided your sisters to their success; you’ve become more than just a big sister to them. This have made your father much more proud of you than his words could say.

As we convoyed to the cemetery, I couldn’t help but think. Who is this man? He’s no more than an ordinary man, but why does he have that huge impact on so many people? Cars were lining behind, all lighting their hazards.
The big house was packed with people coming and going, sending their deepest condolences. Bouquets were sent from so many people, to show that they cared. Neighbors united to organize a very efficient funeral team. Subordinates were weeping to the thoughts of losing a great leader (and perhaps someone who has been somewhat of a father to them). His children’s best friends cried to the thought of not hearing his jokes and his silliness.

Why? It suddenly occurred to me that he must have been a great person.

It makes me wonder.
Have I been a good person all this years? Have I lived my life to the fullest? Have I done enough? Given my share to the society? Have I treated people with respect? Loved the people who love me the most?
When I go, will people give me salutations the way all those people did to K’s father? Will I touch people’s lives?

Om Nurdin, if you ever got the chance to read this (if high above you have a high speed internet connection:p), your children love you and miss you very much. In fact, you’ve touched so many lives and you’re loved by more people than you know. And don’t worry, you WILL see your children do great things. They will look after their dearest mother (and your dear darling wife). K will make sure of that.

This drama has made me realize that we all should live our lives so that we won’t have any regrets.

Thanks Om. Farewell to you, and say hi to all the angels up there for me… :p

"The Difference Between Men and Women"

Let's say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else. And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: ''Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?'' And then there is silence in the car. To Elaine, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.

And Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.

And Elaine is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward . . . I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?

And Roger is thinking: . . . so that means it was . . . let's see . . February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means . . . lemme check the odometer . . . Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.

And Elaine is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed -- even before I sensed it -- that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.

And Roger is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.

And Elaine is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.

And Roger is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90- day warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the scumballs.

And Elaine is thinking: maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.

And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their ......

''Roger,'' Elaine says aloud.

''What?'' says Roger, startled.

''Please don't torture yourself like this,'' she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. ''Maybe I should never have . . Oh, I feel so......'' (She breaks down, sobbing.)

''What?'' says Roger.

''I'm such a fool,'' Elaine sobs. ''I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse.''

''There's no horse?'' says Roger.

''You think I'm a fool, don't you?'' Elaine says.

''No!'' says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.

''It's just that . . . It's that I . . . I need some time,'' Elaine says.

(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)

''Yes,'' he says. (Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.) ''Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?'' she says.

'What way?'' says Roger.

"That way about time,'' says Elaine.

''Oh,'' says Roger. ''Yes.''

(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)

''Thank you, Roger,'' she says.

''Thank you,'' says Roger.

Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechoslovakians he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it.

The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.

Meanwhile, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Elaine's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?''

(excerpted from Dave Barry's)


Something I read recently from the net.
Hahaha, how true, isn’t it? Do guys really do that, by the way? Or is it just stereotyping?

If they do then it makes me wonder whether I always say the right words at the right time to avoid any miscommunication. Like heck, I never lie about anything. And basically I just say whatever pops up in my head. Helps to mitigate the horrible miscommunication fiasco.

Well guys, good luck finding out about girls, okay? And girls, don't put your hopes up too much unless you're a red hot Ferrari...

Calvin and Hobbes

Space travel makes you realize just how small we really are.

When you see earth as a tiny blue speck in the infinite reaches of space,
you have to wonder about the mysteries of creation.

Surely we’re all part of some great design, no more or less important than anything else in the universe.
Surely everything fits together and has a purpose, a reason for being.

Doesn’t it make you wonder?

(Calvin to Hobbes on their journey to Mars in “Weirdos from Another Planet”)


Calvin and Hobbes, the first comic book that I read. Still read it from time to time.
It’s a great comic book that helped me grow up. No, it’s not one of those slapstick comics, and certainly not one of those impossible mutant heroes comics. It’s a real life boy, a typical lonely boy who strived growing up, and dreaded going to school.

The writer, Bill Watterson is plain genius. The character portrayed is simply marvelous, and of course, the conversations between Calvin and his imaginary friend, Hobbes (his stuffed tiger who comes alive in his sole presence), are just brilliant.

Here is Bill Watterson's introduction to his comic book characters:

Calvin.
Calvin is named for a sixteenth-century theologian who believed in predestination. Most people assume that Calvin is based on a son of mine, or based on detailed memories of my own childhood. In fact, I don't have children, and I was a fairly quiet, obedient kid -- almost Calvin's opposite. One of the reasons that Calvin's character is fun to write is that I often don't agree with him. . . . Many of Calvin's struggles are metaphors for my own. I suspect that most of us get old without growing up, and that inside every adult (sometimes not very far inside) is a bratty kid who wants everything his own way. I use Calvin as an outlet for my immaturity, as a way to keep myself curious about the natural world, as a way to ridicule my own obsessions, and as a way to comment on human nature. I wouldn't want Calvin in my house, but on paper, he helps me sort through my life and understand it.

Hobbes.
Named after a seventeenth-century philosopher with a dim view of human nature, Hobbes has the patient dignity and common sense of most animals I've met. Hobbes was very much inspired by one of our cats, a gray tabby named Sprite. Sprite not only provided the long body and facial characteristics for Hobbes, she also was the model for his personality. She was good-natured, intelligent, friendly, and enthusiastic in a sneaking-up-and-pouncing sort of way. Sprite suggested the idea of Hobbes greeting Calvin at the door in midair at high velocity. The so-called "gimmick" of my strip -- the two versions of Hobbes -- is sometimes misunderstood. I don't think of Hobbes as a doll that miraculously comes to life when Calvin's around. Neither do I think of Hobbes as the product of Calvin's imagination. . . . Calvin sees Hobbes one way, and everyone else sees Hobbes another way. I show two versions of reality, and each makes complete sense to the participant who sees it. I think that's how life works. None of us sees the world exactly the same way, and I just draw that literally in the strip.

Calvin's Parents.
I've never given Calvin's parents names, because as far as the strip is concerned, they are important only as Calvin's mom and dad. Calvin's dad has been rumored to be a self-portrait. All my characters are half me, so it's true in some ways, but Calvin's dad is also partly a satire of my own father. Any strip about how suffering "builds character" is usually a verbatim transcript of my dad's explanations for why we were all freezing, exhausted, hungry and lost on camping trips. These things are a lot funnier after 25 years have passed. Calvin's mom is the daily disciplinarian, a job that taxes her sanity, so I don't think we get to see her at her best. I regret that the strip mostly shows her impatient side, but I try to hint at other aspects of her personality and her interests by what she's doing when Calvin barges in. . . . . . . As secondary characters, I've tried to keep Calvin's parents realistic, with a reasonable sense of humor about having a kid like Calvin. I think they do a better job than I would.

Susie Derkins.
Susie is earnest, serious and smart. . . . I suspect that Calvin has a mild crush on her that he expresses by trying to annoy her, but Susie is a bit unnerved and put off by Calvin's weirdness. This encourages Calvin to be even weirder, so it's a good dynamic. Neither of them quite understands what's going on, which is probably true of most relationships.

Miss Wormwood.
As a few readers guessed, Miss Wormwood is named after the apprentice devil in C.S. Lewis' "The Screwtape Letters." I have a lot of sympathy for Miss Wormwood. We see hints that she's waiting to retire, that she smokes too much, and that she takes a lot of medication. I think she seriously believes in the value of education, so needless to say, she's an unhappy person.

Rosalyn.
Probably the only person Calvin fears is his baby-sitter. I put her in a Sunday strip early on, never thinking of her as a regular character, but her intimidation of Calvin surprised me, so she's made a few appearances since. Rosalyn even seems to daunt Calvin's parents, using their desperation to get out of the house to demand advances and raises. Rosalyn's relationship with Calvin is pretty one-dimensional, so baby-sitter stories get harder and harder to write, but for a later addition to the strip, she's worked pretty well.

Moe.
Moe is every jerk I've ever known. He's big, dumb, ugly and cruel. I remember school being full of idiots like Moe. I think they spawn on damp locker room floors.


So, which one of them represents yourself?

Wish I could live as one comic character, and then when I have problems, I can just ask someone to flip the pages, and find a page more to my liking. But life ain't comic books. We don't have Bill to draw our faces or write how our lives should turn out. Instead, we write our own life stories. We're our own authors.

And in spite of everything we do, in the end we're just the tiny blue speck in the infinite reaches of space. Not much to be proud about, let alone brag.

We're just a creation of the greatest designer...

Don’t Give Up

When things go wrong
As they sometimes will
When the
road you’re trudging seems all uphill
When funds are low
And debts are
high

And you want to smile
But you have to sigh
When care is
pressing you down a bit

Rest if you must
But don’t you
quit.

I put up this poem on my cubicle, hoping it would help me rid all my troubles away.
But it seems every step of the way it just keeps on getting harder.

This morning I went to AA Gym’s Learning Forum, and the way he talked just makes me realize that the world is not at all that cruel.
There’s always something to be grateful for. And we must. Otherwise, everything we strive for will just come off badly, and we end up disappointing ourselves.

I know the road we lead now is far from a picnic. It’s hell. But we’ll make it. Somehow I have to force myself to believe that we CAN make it.
And best hope that we WILL.

My Cubicle

1 PC, 1 monitor, 1 keyboard, 1 telephone set, 1 file tray, 1 desk organizer, 1 calendar, 1 business card holder, 3 drawers, 1 water jug and 1 giant mug, scribble on note pads, and lots of other small objects (and cluttered books, papers, and pencils)…

The same desk I’ve been sitting on for the past 1 yr and 9 months is now suffocating me.
Everything now seem to close up my space and leaves me all clogged up.

Here I am, writing my blog, hoping it would change anything for the better, but well, hopes (though not wishful thinking, as are dreams) are not reality. And not so much of an optimistic person, I tend to think that I may not be the luckiest person in the whole world.

Fought too hard for my own good, but sometimes think of quitting (a lot) and have to wake up in the real world where quitting sucks, no matter how relieving it may feel at first.

Choices I made so many and none of them are constellation of my most sober thoughts. I may have rushed into too many things, and regrets will not bring me into a higher level of self. But why does it itch?

Kept on trying to convince myself that more choices are out there, laying strewn every where, just waiting for someone to pick it up and take credit for themselves. It’s not me. It never was. Always have ended up finding myself in one of the darkest corner of world, trying to figure out what the hell am I doing in here.

Been denying myself that I don’t need all the comfort and luxury that most people crave for. Been telling myself awful lot of lies that I only need one or two very important things in my life. Yes, and they are somehow a huge part of the big scheme that just keeps on robbing my self pride, leaving me indignant and hurt.

This cubicle, mainly represents my mental prison, no longer fulfills what I really need. I need self actualization (and they say it’s the highest level of need of man). I need to know when I can see my work being enjoyed. I need to raise the bars, and knowing I can just jump over it.

This cubicle also has made me realize that there are so many things out there, no matter how small it is, that cries for our attention. Waiting and whining will not make anyone any better. We’ve got to take a huge leap and shout to the world “I can take on anything!”

Career and love life, some say they will not go hand in hand. Even I believed that. I once asked my best friend K, “If you could choose, what would you choose to have; a killer job everyone would envy and be successful at it, or a sweet and great husband?” Always thought they will not complement each other. K said, whatever HE gives to her now, she will take full responsibility and she will be grateful for it. Hmm, that’s nice. How about me? Still don’t know. Somehow I hope that those two go together.

This cubicle makes me realize that life is full of choices. For the time being, I chose to sit in and enjoy the glare from my computer, hoping every single minute I spend here will gain me more experience, while crossing my fingers that someday soon, one of those people would call me up, and beg me to work for them.

And when that doesn’t happen soon, well, a very wise person said this to me “Make your own path, lead your own way.” It means, be whatever you want to be. Carve the stone. And he’s right. I will.
And then perhaps, I won't mind sitting in my cubicle so much.

Thanks for the words, R…

The Ceremony

Went to Bogor yesterday. Another friend got married. Congratulations Nunit and Odek (Sunday 12th September 2004 – Ciomas, Bogor).

Hmm, is it a sign that I too, have to settle down?
As hard as it is for me to realize, I think the unsettling feelings I have these past few days, well, I think some part of it (if not large) is contributed by this wandering thoughts.

Mom got married a bit late. She was 29, and Dad was 30. Financial issues. Had to finance their younger siblings before they can step on the threshold and vow their lives for each other. Can’t blame them, if anything, I’m proud of them, they managed to pay for their own lives (and their siblings) with no help from their parents (Mom’s already passed away and Dad only got his mother left).

My sister had a serious relationship for 4 years before she finally decided they weren’t going in the same direction. Dad kept on consoling her that her mother too, got married in her late 20’s. Not helping though. Despite her stacks of to do list every weekend (she never stayed put and chose to hang out with her girlfriends most of the time), there’s always a hint of longing for a relationship, something that will lead her to marriage. Well, what girl wouldn’t want to get married, huh?

Good thing she was always optimistic, and cheerful, and stayed positive. She found her now husband, long after he had been trying to get her, for quite some time (7 years IS a long time, huh?), and decided to accept his hands in marriage after only 5 months. She’s now happily married, for 2 years. Still struggling to have children, but hey, give it time, and I will have my own tiny little nephews and nieces (amiinn…).

I wonder. Why do people have to get married soon? Almost half of my friends got married in their prime time. 21 years old mostly. Now, every once in a while I see the mailing list and pray that no more wedding invitations should pop up, but wish away, mate, coz it’s happening.
Kept thinking if that’s the trend these days, or do people merely want to start early, so when they retire, they will have fully mature children? Or do they simply want to celebrate their love by stepping into a more solid institution called marriage?

Me? Personally, I cannot wait to get married. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with the man I truly love, hoping that nothing bad should come our way, that we both could raise a family and grow old together (you know, just like one of those High Calcium Milk commercials).
But is it solely enough reason to board that ship? Really?

Money is always a pickle. And most people take the high road and use this excuse when they feel they’re not ready to get married. Money IS a huge issue. But is it big enough to stumble upon? Every time I ask myself this question, I can only answer it with a shrug.

The wedding ceremony I went to yesterday; Nunit seemed happy. Odek, likewise (of course he did). But so much as I envy those happy couple, I will safely say that I won’t go that road yet, at least not in the near future (sigh of relieve…). I guess my energy just flushed down the drain to think about it now.

Relationships are too much to fuss about, now. Maybe given time, I will start thinking about it again, and this time, hope that it WILL be my one and only ceremony.

Bomb at Australian Embassy – 9 September 2004

A bomb exploded just in front of Australian Embassy, today at 10.30. The resonance wave was massive that we felt it like a big thunder hit our office in Sudirman area, just next to World Trade Centre.

The explosion just rendered me some contemplation.

What has become of this poor country of us?

Why are we always the target of our own people? Haven’t we suffered enough? “All is fair in love and war”, so they said. But if it involves mass casualties, is it still fair? Is it still tolerable? Wouldn’t you agree that it’s just plain massacre? Or do we have to just hand our lives on silver platter to those heartless terrorists? Is it even our fault that we were born in this blood-thirst country?

Whatever happens to Indonesia, country full of hospitable people, honest and friendly, country so filled with moralities and norms? A beautiful, calm, and peace loving country? Or does it only happen in the brochures?


Whoever sets off the bomb, and whoever was behind it (coz the person setting it off is probably just another pawn in this big political scheme) definitely deserves death sentence. Not only did they not get what they want, they also have killed hundreds and thousands of innocent people.

Didn’t our first president and the people before us fight hard enough? And this is how they repay them? By spilling yet another innocent blood, to achieve whatever greed may overtake them?

Why us?

God, please have mercy on your people…

Chance and Persistence

Two eagles flew low just up over the deep blue ocean. One of them slowed down, and glanced deep into the water. It was the smaller one. Whatever it was seeing (or thinking) no one can possibly tell. The other one however, did not stop even to wait for it. It seemed to fly even faster, leaving the smaller one behind. Refused to mimic the smaller bird, the bigger one, with more whites on it, decided to ascend, farther and farther away.

Two sunsets and two sunrises have they flown together, not even once they stayed side by side, as if they were not in the same group. In fact, it appeared that they were competing with each other. At least that’s what people would think when them. The history they put behind was perhaps far too tragic if not horrendous to discuss by common people that they decide there’s no way people are ever going to understand. “So let’s just fly as strangers”, that’s what they decided.

The first bird, the smaller one, was a lab rat. One of those birds that the Discovery Channel people would show on one of their programs. One of those who was bred in captivity to serve its purpose: becoming human’s research object. The bigger one was the wild one. Born in nature after long days hatched by its mother and freed itself soon after. One that taught itself how to hunt and to prey, all by mere observation.

These two eagles met by a coincidence. The big eagle (let’s refer to it by “Chance” from now on), flew near the lab site on its hunting spree when it saw the smaller one (called Persistence) on one of its test sessions. Chance saw Persistence and fell in love with it instantly. Chance has always grown wild and this time it saw Persistence, something so delicate and pure and it just wished they had grown up together. On another instance, Chance decided to descend its flight and make for Persistence. The smaller bird, just like the bigger one, fell in love instantly. Being raised in a cage all its life, it wanted to break free and taste the wild nature.

Chance came to Persistence on another instance and two before the smaller one finally decided to tag along with the bigger bird on its quest. It will be a great journey, so the bigger one said. Yes, it will - the smaller one replied, we will be a perfectly strong couple and nothing will come our way, we will get whatever we want.

The first week of their trip went smooth. The different nature they both had complemented them. Chance would hunt their prey, while Persistence would skin them. Chance, always on the brighter side would stark up new routes to take, new ventures to go through, while Persistence would calculate the risks in going forth with them. However minuscule the risks are, they’re still risks and will only open for possibility of danger. With this in mind, they both decided to fly with ease, and nothing important really came their way.

Four weeks passed in their journey, not once did they not have a disagreement. Persistence, being the lab rat always wanted to slow down and smell the air along their way, while Chance, always growing up in the wild never ceased to increase its speed for if it didn’t, it would be left behind from food, it said.
Chance would blame Persistence for its slow speed, and Persistence would defend itself with being careful. They’d stop arguing when it was time for their meal. This, they shared their common interest. The long and seemingly mundane disagreement they had did not cease but only strengthen their cooperation. Chance got to know Persistence’s rhythm, and the smaller bird knows what the bigger one really wants. Somehow, along their journey, they have stopped talking and communicating with the heart instead. What more do they need now that they’ve become one dynamic duo.

Shortly they arrived at the ocean. A whole new challenge. Chance wanted to just fly ahead and enjoy the adventure, whatever it may come. But Persistence told it to stop awhile. The ocean was far too great and risky for them to go on unprepared. It said, it would cook up the calculations first to decide the best time to go on. This, however, was never realized. Persistence seemed to have hold off its plan to do the seizing, and Chance began to lose its patience.
“If we don’t cross the ocean now, we might never cross it, because it would be more and more challenging by the day, and we will become weaker and weaker that we probably couldn’t make it”, Chance said. But Persistence seemed to have prepared a defending case against Chance. And it seemed that its years in the laboratory finally paid off. Both Persistence and Chance finally decided they would circle the ocean and not go through with whatever may come had they flown straight across it.

Chance was relieved. But somewhere deep down inside it felt this urge to storm the ocean, to prove that it is indeed one strong bird. However, the smaller bird persisted on taking a detour, and wait awhile until the weather cooled off to let them through. That never happened though.
The last week of their trip together was spent in silence. Silence and disagreeing sighs.

They both flew back to the shore, and started to make for the calmer sea on the other side. Persistence tried to convince Chance that they go back to the land and count the risk once more to cross the harsh ocean. But this time, Chance had something else in mind. Chance decided to go on its quest alone, fly over the ocean with nothing at stake and see if it could somehow meet other eagles or seagulls to go on its journey together. Persistence was devastated to know Chance had decided to go on the trip alone, but still too shy or too afraid to break its own argument.

Persistence didn’t go back to its lab. But it flew behind Chance slowly, trying to make sure it didn’t hit a tornado along its way, while still keeping its distance. Persistence flew low and easy, glancing down most of the time, and only look up to see where Chance is going. Chance, on the other hand, only increased its speed, and soared even higher, as if trying to catch as much air as it possibly can. There’s no way these two birds are ever going to fly through the ocean together.

Chance and Persistence decided to fly as strangers.

Sigh…

Out of nowhere, feeling of complete and utter desperation enveloped me. Why?
I feel like a bitch.

Here I am, sitting on my comfy chair, facing my perfectly good working computer, browsing the internet for a completely non job related thing, and still thinking when I’m ever gonna flee out this hell hole. I want better!

I’ve been thinking, I don’t think I deserve complaining about the nicks I have. Most people are lucky enough to hold an employment contract, however degrading that job is, for the sake of our monthly paycheck - what with all the bills we need to pay. Phone bills, credit card bills, water & electricity bills, housing bills, the more we think about it, the more stressful they become. Not to mention in this case, family pressure (no matter how small, it’s a pressure).

But job is not merely about making a living (or maintaining it). It should serve its purpose, to gain you career. And I’m quite certain that another minute I spend here will not grant me mine. And that is why I keep on rambling on and on about my dissatisfaction in this place. Not only did I not get what I want, I didn’t get what I need. I want skyscraper high salary (yeah, you wish…), I need challenge.

Not challenge on how to handle clients complaints or tend to their requests, but real challenge, on how to bring the company into a better position, with my brightest ideas I help compose a foolproof strategy to drive it to a far more profitable (and liquid) one. I want the salary that can keep me save for at least some time when I decide I want to take a short break and just focus on my personal stuff. Not something that will only lead me into another rat race, something that will only keep me going for the rest of the month and leave me pondering “where have all my money gone?”

I guess these two criteria are just out of the question.

Lately I have finally gave in. I guess I needed a break, a break from getting tired of my job all the time, a break from discontent feeling. A break from my never-ending job search. A break from trying to convince myself that there are other companies in this world that would want to hire me as their loyal and devoted employee. A break from trying to figure out what’s happening to this cruel world.

Come to think of it, no. I’m not a bitch (that’s what I keep telling myself). I’m just another ordinary person who is so fed up with her demeaning job. I am worthy of anything. Am I?

I wonder. Is there anyone out there who is content with what they do? Sigh…