Goodbyes and Hellos

“Someone says, goodbyes are part of life. For every goodbye there's another hello that awaits. Still it's so difficult to say goodbye. I've been trying hard not to cry. But I'm only human.”

“If someone asked me how I'm feeling, I won’t know what to say.Everything is mixed... So excited and yet so sad.I'm gonna miss everyone here. I'm gonna miss the flower blooming in spring, the real hot summer, the color of the trees in fall, and even the worst winter.So, my life in America is formally over.Close the curtain, let the next chapter begins...”


Excerpted from a blog my dear friend Windy Kurnia Irawati posted on February 18, 2005, (upon her return to the motherland).

I love this blog. I think it’s one of the best she has yet written.


I hate goodbyes. I think everyone does.
Especially when we don’t really know if we’re ever going to meet with them ever again.

Once again, I will have to say goodbye.
This time to my own feelings.

I'm tired of being sad.
I'm tired of being jealous.
I’m tired of being irrational.
I'm tired of being over dramatic.
I'm tired of being a paranoid freak.
I'm tired of being me.

My only remedy refused to cure me.
And I am only left alone to self heal.
To be happy by myself.
To say hello to the beauty of tomorrow.

I think I can do that.
I have to.

And this time, I won’t have to rely on anything anymore.
I won’t be afraid to say goodbye.

Coz it’s true, another hello awaits me.

Invitations

3 wedding invitations in 2 weeks.

It’s just so frustrating.
Does this mean it’s now time for me to panic?

I just want to be happy.
And I really think that putting an end to my single life would be a good solution.

Sigh…
I don’t know.

The Door of Happiness Opens from Inside Out

“The door of happiness opens from inside out.”

That was the Table Topic question at the International Speech and Table Topic Contest, at Mets Club last night.



It got me thinking hard.

Now, when was the last time you feel really happy?

Some may say five minutes ago, last week, yesterday, or even right now.

I simply don’t know the answer to that.
I couldn’t even remember when was the last time I was feeling really really happy.
Really content.

I don’t know why I can’t remember.

I seem to be able to laugh out loud anytime anyone needs me to.
I can really recall the exact moment when I last burst out into really loud laugh (heck, I think the people at Playan can still vividly remember the last time I burst out, poor Coffee Bean people…).
But I can’t really remember when was the last time I was feeling so happy, like there’s nothing in this whole wide world that could ruin my mood. Or the last time I didn’t cry at all.

But why? I mean, isn’t people supposed to forget their troubles? Well, they should, when they’re happy, I think…

Now, hearing the question only got me thinking.
A said in his speech, “To a child, maybe what makes him/her happy is a lollypop. To someone maybe a raise or a huge bonus at end of year. To others maybe to build his own business.”

As he delivered the speech, I thought “What makes me happy then?”
There’s too many things in this world that I want to have, that I want to do, that I want to achieve, to be happy.

I want to be a good writer, have my works published and enjoyed by many.
I want to be married to the only one person I ever loved.
I want to take my masters degree, live, and raise my children overseas, far far away from here.
I want to be able to do the things that I love doing and be the rich and famous for it.
Etc…
Etc…
Etc…

But when I don’t have it (not yet at least…), will it hinder me from being happy? I know it shouldn’t.

I learned the hard way that the door of happiness is inside out. Meaning, I really can’t rely on others to make me happy. And instead, happiness is within yourself, and once you can start making others happy, you’ll be happier for ever more.

Now I know it’s hard, and it’s probably going to take me years to be content. But I know I gotta try to make it happen.

And by then, when people ask me “When was the last time you feel really happy?”, I will answer “Tomorrow”.
For by then, I will know that I won’t shed anymore tears. I will forever be grateful. By then, my door of happiness will be open wide.

And by then, I hope, I will be making someone I love happy.

The Chameleon?

Fair skinned mixed middle eastern-oriental, 26-28ish, well built, good looking. Navy and black shirts, basketball shorts. Personality varies, depends on his friends. A bit vacant look.

Pale mixed oriental-native 25-27ish, well built, a bit too dressy, model face. White, grey, sometimes black sleeveless shirts, shorts, and a pair of orange shoes. Too into his looks to pay attention to what’s between the ears.

Oriental 23-25ish, bookish look, glasses, cute, muscular. White shirts and knee length pants. Young, smart.

Native 26, bookish, glasses, sharp eyes, really pleasant looking but not too eye catching, well built. Grey Reebok shirt, grey shorts. Mature, very smart, nice and pleasant personality, great sense of humor, knowledgeable and strong willed.



If you were to choose among all four guys, which would you prefer?
These are the four categories of men I meet at the gym. Well, I only picked those that are nice to the eyes. I've categorized them into several groups.

Some would pick the friendship person, some would fall for the model handsome guy, and some likes the attractive cute bookish guy. But my personal pick would fall to candidate number 4. Yes, it’s just in my nature to fall for really smart and fun guys. Because to me, that character alone could turn an okay looking guy into one irresistible guy.

Someone said though, that she likes the first guy better. Maybe she’s just against the number 4 guy, I don’t know. My first response would be that the guy does not strike me as an intelligent person. That was my first reaction.

I know I don’t have the right to pass judgment, but now really, is it safe to stereotype?

Can we generally infer from all the four categories that the first is the kind who does not have his own opinion on things, whose interests comprise of any other interests that his friends have (or in other words, not having his own opinions). Now, someone said that I've overlooked things, and that perhaps he may be indeed someone with high social life, and that it’s his character to be swayed by his friends. It simply means that the guy is a “chameleon”.

Hmm…
What is a chameleon, really?

Does it really mean that you are the kind of person who would easily change your mind, or does it simply mean that you’re someone who’s “gaul”? (that’s my friend’s term for it)

Now, what is “gaul”, then?

Does it mean someone who knows the latest trends in fashion, or by definition someone who jumps from one club to another, still dancing to the wee hours, someone who is only “fun” with liquor and cigarette around?


I don’t know. But I hardly think that’s what they are about.

To me being a chameleon means simply to be able to adapt to your environment quickly, and not feel awkward being in the crowd, although he or she may prefer the quiet instead. Someone who can mingle with others, friendly to everyone, without forgetting his or her own principles.

And to me, “gaul” means someone who’s knowledgeable, knows a lot of interesting people who can really carry good conversations, someone who keeps his or her good friends, someone very literate.


But I don’t know.
I guess that’s just me. Then again, it’s all relative.

Now, if you were to pick the real chameleon, which person would you choose?

I’d definitely still stick to guy #4.

Mark Darcy

Did you watch Bridget Jones Diary – Edge of Reason? It’s a chick flick, I know. But, hey, those Brits Chick Flicks are very good, you know…

Well, for those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s good. The story revolves around this obsessive girl, named Bridget (Renee Zellweger).

She thinks she’s in love, with her boyfriend Mark Darcy (Colin Firth). Every single day she wakes up with a smile, she would stare at her boyfriend in his sleep and he would mutter something about not wanting to be stared at in his sleep to her. Yes, she was crazy about him. After all, there’s nothing about him that she shouldn’t be crazy about. He’s smart, good looking, and he’s good in bed (so she said). Plus, he’s the typical good boy who knows how to make his parents (especially his Mom) happy.

There are some things that Bridget has been obsessing about though. Mark Darcy is not an affectionate guy, and sometimes she thinks he’s ashamed of her behavior. She also thinks that he did not appear to have any plans to marry her. And last but not least, she thinks he’s having an affair with his very beautiful colleague.

As well predicted, she decided to break up with the wonderful boyfriend and somewhere along the way in her miserable single life, she ran into her ex-fling, Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant). A dashing TV host. Someone with the good looks and charm that melts even the coldest hearts.

How things turned out? Well, as any other chick flick, the hero would of course win the battle in the end. In short, Bridget found her way back with Mark. Happy ending.

Silly movie, really. But why did I cry at least three times during the movie?
I feel, I AM somewhat like Bridget. A silly girl who does not even recognize her own strengths and weaknesses, a loud girl who just does not know when to shut up, someone who always feels insecure about herself, someone so crazy about a guy that she thinks desperate measures needed to be taken while all those acts only drove her away from her true love. I feel I AM Bridget, in one way or another.

I too have my own personal Mark Darcy. Someone who is really smart and handsome, very ambitious, not affectionate, does not seem to have any plans to jump into a commitment, and always makes me jealous with his colleagues, etc.

The similarity seems uncanny, yet it’s so true.

After I walked out of the theater I couldn’t help thinking. Why did I love my Mark Darcy so much then? Yes, like in the movie, my own Mark never showered me with love words, but he did shower me with all the attention I need. He too did not seem to care while in fact he was terrified to death at a single prospect of losing me.

Then why did Bridget have a fling with someone other than her Mark if she’s so in love with him? Her answer will be the same as mine:
Because we do NOT know just how much they love us.
And that hurts.

Loving someone so much hurts.
It even hurts more to not know if he loves you back the same way.

To my Mark Darcy; “It’s never said enough.”

And to those who hasn’t seen the movie. Go see it. It’s a good one. I promise you, it’s one of the best chick flicks I've ever seen.

Ice Cream Cone

What’s your favorite Ice Cream flavor?

Are you Chocolate, Butter Pecan, Chocolate Chip, Coffee, Strawberry, or Vanilla?
Whatever it is, they say your favorite ice cream flavor can determine your personality.

I am one third Chocolate, one third Vanilla, one third Butter Pecan and Chocolate Chip. It means that I am flirtatious, charming, a little dramatic (Chocolate), gregarious, impulsive, fun-loving and expressive (Vanilla), and also organized and fair (Vanilla) and Creative (Chocolate Chip).

Am I all that? I have no idea. I just take one of those internet quizzes, and voila! This is their calculation for all my answers.

Actually, I have nothing against it. But hey, what if you’re on a diet? And then you decide you’d order a sorbet or perhaps you switch to yoghurt instead? Will that make your personality any less strong? I don’t really think so.

Having found out what I truly am through this Ice Cream test, will I take upon action and start changing how I really behave all these times, and rather, try to comply with the basic ground rules? Life must be pretty boring if you can’t even switch your favorite ice cream flavor, for fear that once you switch it, you’d have to change your whole life as well.

Gee…
I didn’t know that eating Ice Cream can be such a pickle. I thought the only real stress would be: “Hmm, should I get myself a one scoop or a mixed flavors two scooper? Should I pick the cone, or cup? Should I get the low fat or the regular?

Life’s more fun to live when you don’t know.
When you’re still anticipating with enthusiasm.
When you’re still curious.

After all, only time will tell. That’s exactly why there’s no one correct fortune teller, for luck changes. Life changes even in the intermission. Any slightest blow of wind will change the course of events, without you knowing how much it has impacted your life. But then again, that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?

And what’s more fun is that you shouldn’t change your personality, simply because you want to change your life. What you need is a slight change in attitude. And then, you can still browse for more ice cream flavors out there.


“Do you have any words of wisdom on your anniversary, Charlie Brown?”
“Well, Lucy. I’ve been thinking. And I think that life is just like an ice cream cone. You have to lick it one day at a time”
“You know, of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you’re the Charlie Brownest…”
= Charlie Brown to Lucy (at his 10th Anniversary) =

The Most Romantic Time of the Year – some pointers for the love birds

Girls (and guys), say hi to “Saint Valentine”.

Yes, Valentine’s Day is considered the most romantic time of the year.
Why did this Saint become the reason that people want to take a special time of the year to scream from the top of their lungs “I LOVE YOU”? I don’t even know.

But no offense to the Saint, I don’t really believe in Valentine’s Day. Well, not too much anyway. I know I want to celebrate this special occasion but I don’t want to get too much into all this hype, that even the slightest mishap could ruin our day (coz that happened a lot in the past that I'm starting to learn my mistakes – hahaha…).
My guilty pleasure is to splurge on my loved ones. My bad. Well, it’s good on the guy tho, since I’d be showering him with lots of sweets, gifts, and uhm – well kisses.

The tradition would be, me getting him some new shirts (that will fit him perfectly – thanks to my really really good sense of picking out mens’ shirts), hand it to him casually, buy him some expensive (liquor) chocolate, and help him finish it, and package will be sealed with my locked starry gaze into his eyes, just to close the deal and make him understand that I've loved him for so long (too long in fact).

And then, he would return my gift. Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps just swing by the silver section, or perhaps just browse through the shoes section. That’s of course after we’re full from the dining at one of the most expensive restaurant at the mall.


You see, those were the days when I didn’t know any better. When things were just on the surface. When we were still starting out. I'm not saying that as the relationship gets older, romance are bound to be forgotten.
No.
N.O.
NO. I LOVE ROMANCE. I crave it.

What I'm saying is that, the older your relationship gets, the more mature it should be. And by then, these things are just some of the most interesting things you need to do to spice things up a bit.

But mind you, there are lots of other ways to be romantic. To celebrate your love together. And none of it has to constitute getting your loved ones a red rose, or a mixed tape, or even a head-scratching-expensive candle light dinner. When you’re older, you need to get more creative so that the relationship does not get bland, and in the end make you bored being stuck with the same person for so long.

Some of the ways can be a simple scribble saying “I Love You” (which is NEVER said enough).
It can be the most sincere smile you ever pull out when you pick her up from work.
It can be by dressing up to impress him like you never do on any other day.
It can be anything.

Well, what my loved one chose to do, he drove to pick me up, fought all the horrible traffic jam, just to make sure I get home safely after I purchased my laptop (the one I'm typing on right now – I'm loving it so much now, by the way).

He’s not the type of person who would shower me with attention. Yet he did.
And that means A LOT.

The Valentine’s Day wasn’t really spent just by the two of us, staring deep into each other’s eyes, with our most favorite romantic songs played by the violinist, to accompany our romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant, after which we opened our presents. Instead, I went to Ratu Plaza to get myself a laptop, took the bus to Niaga Tower to make a withdrawal, paid the package, had coffee and a round of loud laughs with K’s office best friends.

But you know what, the fact that the only one person I want to be with on that very special day was there, and made an effort to meet me, in the middle of his ALWAYS busy schedule, meant the world to me. And I would not trade that day with any more “romantic valentine evenings” EVER.


Guys (and girls), love and fun does not have to be expensive. You can find them at all sorts of different places. Cheap places. Unusual places.
And when you do find it, you can say “screw the tradition” coz Valentine’s day ain’t about tradition. It’s about sharing your piece of love and attention with the most special person in your heart.

I personally did. Thanks A and K for the night.
It was the best Valentine’s day ever.

I LOVE YOU GUYS…..

"The People Who Lunch"

(It’s Monday, 1.15pm)
I glanced at my watch. Where are the guys anyway? (By guys I mean my bestest friend & my co-author; K, and our contributors, who are our mutual friends.)
K called and asked to meet at our regular spot. Well, as always, I came first. That’s probably because I live the closest to our favorite hang out place, Plaza Senayan. Aaahhhh….. What a day…

Got our latest publication in my bag (Can you believe I still carry that back pack, after all these years?) I felt so reluctant to take it out, but I didn’t bring anything else. Aargh, I hate this. I didn’t even bring my favorite book.
What the heck. Just swing by Kinokuniya and grab the latest collection of Dilbert comics. Hahaha, I don’t care how old I am or how many books we’ve published, that comic will still be my favorite.
After I paid the book, K rang. She’s here. Okay, so I’ll just save the comic for later.

As I sat down, we glanced around. Man, it’s so quiet here!

“Nggak seru ah…”, she said.
“Well, the guys will be here any minute, right? Meanwhile, let’s just talk nonsense, hahaha…”

After all, these the advantages of being an independent writer, right? Of being self-employed?

You don’t have bosses to report to, no working time.

No “responsibilities” to the “stake-holders”, while the real meaning is busting your ass off to make those capitalists richer while you earn small change. Chick feed. (Pension plan, my ass! I’m not gonna have my small salary deducted every month all in the name of saving for my later years when the real bitter truth is the company just wants to suck every single dime you have and turn out as the hero for paying your “quite handsome” pension when you’re grey…)

No traffic. (Well, unless you call queuing in the lobby of one of the biggest malls in Jakarta is traffic.)

And last but not least, no nonsense at work, coz you don’t have to deal with the bitches.
You’re your own king. (Anyways, enough whining…)

But the compensation of being self-employed IS grave.

When you know your brain works best when it’s hectic, crowded, and noisy; instead, the soft clicking of mugs and indistinct whispers of the waitresses of your favorite coffee house chatting about, with the low commotion outside in the mall’s department store fill the afternoon. And then, they could not provide you with your desired inspiration.

Your brain just went blank.

“What is it with me today? My mind doesn’t work but at all!” I complained.
“Perhaps it’s the quiet”, K replied.


Come to think of it, do these people think the same? Do they like the quiet or do they like it better when it’s hectic?
Perhaps that’s one of the main reasons why we hang out with a bunch of noisy people, because sometimes, we feel more at peace when it’s crowded, when it’s noisy.


Hmm…
As I glanced around, I saw some people at the coffee shop. Waiting, looking restless, just like us.
The difference is, they don’t seem to be enjoying their time with their coffee, unlike us.
They seem happy, but there’s something about how they drink that leads me thinking.

How about the “arisan” housewives? After dropping off their children at one of the most prestigious schools, and order their butler and maids for menu for dinner, they practically have got nothing to do. Or do they? Do they enjoy hanging about at the mall, with their hands cling tightly to their cells, pressing it hard against their ears, with 2 fingers holding a slim cigarette, while one other hand busy playing with their cigarette lighter. Lips red and glossy by the most expensive lipstick. And once the friends have joined them, they would soon start ordering some Cappucino or Latte, and chant happily about their latest accomplishments, that is how they got their husbands to finally approve to finance their “breast surgery” or “liposuction”. As if they were simply discussing about the latest discount sale. Something about them emanates the word “social climber”.

How about those “humanitarian activists” with their black loose shirts, dark cargo pants, and a pair of over worn sandals? With their hands waving in the air, frowning, and swearing. Their eyes dart back and forth to their laptop, sitting in front of them. Their thirst quenched with a cup of Espresso, they would also have a cup of iced water that spilled every here and there when they lift their glass up all the while busy describing some important issue to their conversation partner. Sometimes, they would ask their friends for a kretek cigarette, a cigarette so heavy that they need time to inhale it, and sometimes cough after each time. Their cells keep ringing for updates on the upcoming demo event.

How about the “band freaks”? With their loose pair of jeans, too loose, in fact, that their checkered boxer shorts peeked a bit (or maybe they pulled it up, just to show everyone that they do wear under garments). Their leather bracelets and their random choice of drinks. Never the same in two sittings. Their eyes dart here and there, glanced about to the passer-bys, searching for inspiration, they say. And they would come up with a song, and they would cheer together. The drummer would start hitting wind, and the lead guitarist would immediately play with their invisible strings. The lead vocal, supposedly to be the composer as well, would immediately write on the paper napkin the lyrics that have been zooming in his head.

How about the “rich kids” and their “wanna-be” friends? The rich kids would hold the latest launched Nokia cellphone, while the wanna-be friends keep on clutching their wallets, afraid that the rich kids would take a peek at what’s inside and laugh out loud, and stop hang out with them anymore, after all, they’ve done whatever it takes to hang out with the most popular people at school, including begging their parents for money, and sulk at the slightest rejection, pretending not to understand that money doesn’t grow on trees. They would hang and chat over the rich kids’ Frappucino or their Tazo Iced Tea. Topics covered mostly about the cutest boy at school and how the seemingly not popular and mundane girl could end up with him, she must’ve hexed him or something, the rich kid said. Other than that, perhaps they would discuss the upcoming rock concert. The rich kids would say they’d get VIP tickets, while the wanna-bes would say that they probably would not get the permission from their parents as it would probably end too late, what with their curfew and all. All the care in the world is about to last no longer than their cup of coffee.

How about the “sales representative” of a local Multi Level Marketing compay? They would so desperately present the companies “up line and down line” stuff, what the prospects would benefit from, etc. They would order the prospective members a “Coffee of the Day” and one cup for themselves. They would enthusiastically explain why these people should join, and be a part of the circle.

How about those filthy rich people then? When all they need to do is kill time, and hang out at malls, travel around the world, with no care of anything at all? When the only people they have are their gold digger spouses, whose interests are nothing but the rich people’s pockets, and what they could take out off them. When the care in their world is how to make sure their investments rest in the most appropriate baskets that they get bigger and bigger. They would order coffee or tea just to make the uninterested spouses more bearable.


What about these people? Do they get lonely? Do they get fed up of the quiet?
Is it lifestyle? Is it obligation? Is it merely time killer? Is it even enjoyable?
Do they think better when it’s quiet?



I've been traveling in time. I've been dreaming about how I would see all these people when one day I too get to sit outside during the day.
But I’m not gonna be one of these people. At least not now. Not when we’ve got something great going on. Not when our going out to lunch is an obligation, and instead, merely hobby.

By then, I WILL enjoy my time. For I have my bestest friends, I have my Java, and most importantly, I have myself.

And by then, maybe I will be “the people who lunch”…

The Five People You Meet in Heaven – Mitch Albom

First person: The Blue Man
“Well. People often belittle the place where they were bor. But heaven can be found in the most unlikely corners. And heaven itself has many steps…”
“There are five people you meet in heaven.” “Each of us was in your life for a reason. You may not have known the reason at the time, and that is what heaven is for. For understanding your life on earth.”

Second person: The Captain
“Sacrifice, “the Captain said. “You made one, I made one.” “We all make them. But you were angry over yours. You kept thinking about what you lost. You didn’t get it. Sacrifice is a part of life. It’s supposed to be. It’s not something to regret. It’s something to aspire to. Little sacrifices. Big sacrifices.”

Third person: The Father
“Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attaches the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do to ourselves.”

Fourth person: The Lover
“Love, like rain, can nourish from above, drenching couples with a soaking joy. But sometimes, under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots, keeping itself alive.”
“Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. you hold it. you dance with it. Life has to end. Love doesn’t.”

Fifth person: The Child
“I was sad because I didn’t do anything in my life. I was nothing. I accomplished nothing. I was lost. I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Supposed to be there,” she said.



I read “The Five People You Meet in Heaven” and I learned a lot.

I cried.
I cried to know that perhaps in some instance, my life affects others in such a way that I won’t even realize it.
I cried to know that true love hurts, especially when they are gone.

Even in Heaven, you still have heartaches. But as time goes on, you will learn the meaning of your life.

Well, let’s best hope that I figure it out first before I go to heaven (or hell? – God forbid…)


Anyways, love your work, Mitch.

(also posted in www.cecolabookclub.blogdrive.com on 9th February 2005)