paper boat

A New Life

2010-07-13T23:36:00.002+07:00

I've moved to a whole new continent, a whole new country, but not exactly a new life. It's never been easy so far. But I'm still living it.

Just a drive test. I haven't been in the blogsphere forever. Let's see, perhaps I get addicted to it again, and this time can never be parted again. We'll see.

For the time being, freundlische grusse, as the local people say when closing a letter.

So, there it is.

ROTI SISIR

2009-07-25T17:18:00.003+07:00

Look what I found yesterday! Roti Sisir!

Ibu used to buy me and my brother these when we were kids. I loved, loved the taste of it and even for my brother, the food was heavenly gift. Hahahaha. We were very gullible back then that made Ibu the happiest mother ever.

To me now, the taste of Roti Sisir reminds me of home and my childhood. I miss home and Ibu and my baby brother a lot.

THINGS I SEEM COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT THESE DAYS

2009-07-24T17:32:00.000+07:00

When the power went down the other day I freaked out because my mp3 player almost died out, my cellphone -- fortunately -- still powered up, but the laptop, the poor thing would only run for 15 minutes before it passes out without power supply. [And I should've probably put my hair-dryer into the picture as well: my one and only saving grace for this crazy hair.] It made me jittery just thinking about it.

But who wouldn't, anyways?

PROJECT VIRTUAL

2009-07-23T23:54:00.001+07:00

Came back home at 9 pm.

But I'm *beaming* with satisfaction and feeling of accomplishment.

I am in this big project at my work place that I'm finally enjoying. It's something to do with my workplace's website development. Oh, the thrill!

My team and I were sitting with this graphic designer guy, that we bugged, tortured, terrorized, and abused with every single insane detail that we kept on changing all the time. Because, honestly, we HAD NOT A SINGLE CLUE of what we wanted to incorporate into the web design. So, it was mostly trial-and-error method we used as the approach. But we had a great time. A nice artsy, not to mention legal, way to escape from boring job routines for us, although not so much for the poor guy.

We were working non-stop from 11 am till the clock hit 9 pm and we hadn't finished it yet. But I'm haaappppyyyy, and really looking forward on how the web is going to end up looking like. :D

For serious, it made me start thinking that I might should find another job in this kind of field. I have always felt sort of an artsy pantsy kind of person ever since I was little.

When I was in elementary school, I made the best, fine-finished, carton cube that was my school assignment. And I always enjoyed making my own hand-made birthday cards to give to my friends and cousins. And making bookmarks, posters for my school drama club performance, and wall decorations, and the list goes on. Oh, the old time!

My drawer was always full chocked with art making tools: scissors -- all kinds of them, an extensive collection of crayons, pencils, and markers in ALL colors, crepe papers, all kinds of glue, and other strange knick knacks that I worshiped with all my young artsy soul.

I could sit and spend HOURS to design and redesign my artwork, and cut my colour recyled textured paper in the smallest precision, and glue it neatly, and draw it with some silly-looking animals, and hand-write it in fancy letters, and stick some beads and stars on it, and put paper rope on, and decorate it with potpourri. I could stand the painful meticulous job and then pat my own back over the artwork I finished and made a little jump and got really giddy to start my next art project. I was an art nerd. And I was loving it.

Maybe I'm just in the WRONG job. Who knows, right?

HER MORNING ELEGANCE

2009-07-21T19:33:00.001+07:00

I love, love, love listening to this song: in the morning, at noon, in the evening, in the middle of my typing my paperworks, printing out documents at my office, while walking back home, when I feel like losing my sanity over the awful deadlines, as I was waiting for a friend at a cafe that came really late, or right before I went to bed at night. Something about this song soothes my nerve down and makes me want to always feel romantic.

Well, I have not the slightest idea who this Oren Lavie dude is -- other than the fact that he was once singing in this live variety TV show with a red furry Muppet-sort of thingy creeping on his back and trying not to giggle before he finished up the song which I saw on youtube [aww.. sweetness..] -- but he sure knows how to write good songs.

The song is titled Her Morning Elegance and the lady in the clip is super sweet and pretty, like a newly-washed towel. Hehe. Or ... (fill the dots with your favourite sweet and pretty stuff).

EVEN IF HE BUGS YOU SIXTY PERCENT OF THE TIME

2009-07-17T22:55:00.002+07:00

This is the monologue from the last scene of '2 Days in Paris'. ♥ Sweetness ♥

It always fascinated me how people go from loving you madly to nothing at all, nothing. It hurts so much.

When I feel someone is going to leave me, I have a tendency to break up first before I get to hear the whole thing. Here it is. One more, one less. Another wasted love story.

I really love this one.

When I think that it's over, that I'll never see him again like this... well yes, I'll bump into him, we'll meet our new boyfriend and girlfriend, act as if we had never been together, then we'll slowly think of each other less and less until we forget each other completely. Almost.

Always the same for me. Break up, break down. Drunk up, fool around. Meet one guy, then another, fuck around. Forget the one and only. Then after a few months of total emptiness start again to look for true love, desperately look everywhere and after two years of loneliness meet a new love and swear it is the one, until that one is gone as well.

There's a moment in life where you can't recover any more from another break-up. And even if this person bugs you sixty percent of the time, well you still can’t live without him. And even if he wakes you up every day by sneezing right in your face, well you love his sneezes more than anyone else's kisses.

AND MY DARLING, COULD YOU PLEASE KILL THE PHONE WHILE WE ARE TOGETHER, THANKS.

2009-07-14T22:39:00.001+07:00

img credit: ffffound

IT'S ELECTION DAY IN INDONESIA AND IT'S AWESOME

2009-07-08T16:39:00.004+07:00

Hey, I'm having a day off since today is ELECTION DAY! Boo hoo!

I planned to go out and about today to do stuff, but it's already 4 pm and I'm still home. I surprised myself for my endurance browsing e-trash (and writing a blog post) in between watching TV for election up-dates the whole day long.

According to election quick-count, seems like the big guy wins again. Which is good, I think. He seems like somebody dependable, despite his failures, if you may call so, nailing down a couple or more goals in the last period's presidency. Well, people put a lot of hope on his shoulders and it's never easy to lead a country as massive as Indonesia. Well, you can't make everybody happy, but I guess you can always bring happiness to the majority of people.

Anyways, the buzz won't stop until at least the next couple of weeks, so my two cents here won't count much.

So, I'm going to go some place else before my butt sticks permanently to the chair. Whatta nice election day.

ps. Did you vote? I skipped. Hoho. :D

img credit: head banner of SBY presidency campaign website

WHILE I WAS OFF [AGAIN]

2009-07-07T23:02:00.004+07:00

It's always work. Always work. Never the others. My life has been pretty much sucked into this ridiculous circle of work, that becomes a routine and a never-ending list of to-do's. The hustle and bustle of it has become something very uninspiring to me, even less to other people that's supposed to matters the most to me.

"I was part of that strange race of people aptly described as spending their lives doing things they detest to make money they don’t want to buy things they don’t need to impress people they dislike." – Emile Henry Gauvreau

All this, makes me rethinking my whole objective of my existence in my current work place. I have to think 1000 times to take a leave. It's not good. I can no longer live day by day keep thinking about targets and deadlines 24/7. It has even got into my dreams. Nightmare, actually.

"You make what seems a simple choice: choose a man or a job or a neighborhood — and what you have chosen is not a man or a job or a neighborhood, but a life." – Jessamyn West

Please excuse my utterly unimportant mumblings. I just need to write this down.

On a sunnier side, I bought myself a pair of brand new shoes. In the name of sanity, and self-indulgence. :D

WHO CAN BE THAT IN LOVE WITH HIS CAR, ANYWAY?

2009-06-26T01:58:00.007+07:00

I listened to this song yesterday from my "Queen: Live in Wembley" DVD. I am an avid fan of Queen, and I believed I had never listened to this song before: I'm In Love With My Car. Can't be more self-explanatory.

Until yesterday. With popping eyes, wrinkling forehead and utter confusion, I snorted myself laughing so hard: the song is aptly horrifying yet genius at the same time. A bunch of genius self-centered car-obsessed pricks.

And oh boy, you should listen and see the way Roger Taylor sang the song. I had never even once known anybody that SANG the infatuation he has with a CAR in such a PROUD and LOUD mannerism. Sounds kinda disturbing, though.

And to make it even more hilarious, you may learn new specific automobile vernaculars AND the how-to guide of becoming a lousy-ass boyfriend, all through listening to this one song. And it even RHYMES, people.

"Told my girl I just had to forget her,
Rather buy me a new carburettor"

I can tell I was a bit disappointed. Well, just because I love my head, buddy, which I do, doesn't mean that I should sing it out loud.

But hey, rock on.

I'm in Love with My Car

The machine of a dream, such a clean machine.
With the pistons a pumpin', and the hubcaps all gleam.
When I'm holding your wheel,
All I hear is your gear,
When my hands on your grease gun,
Oh it's like a disease son,
I'm in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile,
Get a grip on my boy racer rollbar,
Such a thrill when your radias squeal.

Told my girl I just had to forget her,
Rather buy me a new carburettor,
So she made tracks sayin' this is the end now,
Cars don't talk back they're just four wheeled friends now,

When I'm holding your wheel,
All I hear is your gear,
When I'm cruisin' in overdrive,
Don't have to listen to no run of the mill talk jive,

I'm in love with my car, gotta feel for my automobile,
I'm in love with my car, string back gloves in my automobile!

PSYCHEDELIC JAKARTA

2009-06-25T23:47:00.001+07:00

Warning: This is going to be rant #158.342.777 ever written about Jakarta's traffic. [yawn. boring]

A couple of weeks ago, I took a taxi to get me to a place in Senayan. You now ask, "So?". I say, dear friend, it's the part where you may call me wanker for taking a taxi at 3 o'clock on a Friday through Thamrin - Sudirman - Senayan, in other words, road to hell. I said to myself, what were you thinkin', on a Friday at three? Definitely not smart.

The not-so-far trip that can take up to 20 minutes sans traffic now needed an additional 60 minutes to schlep my hastened ass to my destination. Not a smart option, because I could've taken a Trans Jakarta instead, which I didn't. Definitely not smart.

On my way back to the office, it was already 5 o'clock [this time I took a Trans Jakarta ride that put me back to Monas]. I still had to take another connecting ride to get me to the office. It was one crazy irritating sweaty afternoon that I told my irritated self that I HAD to get me a taxi dammit. Which was apparently not a smart choice, because it was traffic all over again and all taxis were taken. Under the baring balmy sun. Definitely not smart.

Another 20 minutes passed by, and still no available taxi. I decided to walk QUITE SOME DISTANCE to the next junction where, I expected, I could find more taxis. A not so smart choice to walk, because I was in my HIGH HEELS. Definitely not smart.

Anyways.

Today as I went back home from an task outside the office, I took a TRANS JAKARTA, instead of a TAXI, because I wanted to be smart this time, beside the fact that every single bloody taxi in Jakarta had bloody passengers in it. I didn't expect the Trans Jakarta trip would be a long rocky one in a wheeled machined-auto box that almost exploded with rubbing-elbows, rubbing-shoulders, and rubbing-egos. I was one of them rubbing my you-name-it. Wearing my HIGH HEELS. Definitely not smart. Ah, wanker, Esti!

Anyhow, I am home now. I thank God that it only takes 12 minutes [which I have shortened into a new record of 7 minutes] for me to get to my office desk from the doorstep of my very room. Now Jakarta, you eat my dust.

Okay. That's all. I told you it's nothing but a rant. It's a boring rant.

Moral of the story: I say, high heel is the epitome of all the schmuckness in public-transportation users.

OUR DISTANT STAR

2009-06-21T19:09:00.005+07:00

Today was all about contemplation, contemplation, and contemplation. A heavy subject to spend one short weekend about.

It all began with the priest's sermon today. Apparently, today is Father's Day. (Really?? We have one here?) The subject about the priest's troubled past relationship with his father came up in his sermon. Closed with a letter of a man to his father the priest took from a book. Brought tears to my eyes, as well as to a lot of other people in the room. I couldn't help it. We couldn't help it.

Later, my friends and I went to see this movie. And guess what, one of the scene shows a father being murdered in front of his daughter he has not seen for a very long time. So sick, I know. A drop of tear was there rolling down my cheek. I remembered my father again.

I wish I could stop the ugly cry from happening every time I hear fatherly stuff stories, or when I see a father wipes dirt from his kid's mouth, or a father kissing his baby kid dearly in his arms, or a stupid movie scene where a father got his bloody neck broken into two. I'm always a sucker at this and you can tell, as well.

I can still recall the priest said something about leaving your past behind, and carrying on with your now-life. I know I will. But I don't think I will ever stop looking for his presence everywhere, like any other little girl who lost her father some time too soon. It still hurts. Other feelings never felt this wrong.

Anyways, Happy Father's Day, Bapak. They said that I carry your smile and sense of humor. I miss your jokes and hugs. You are our distant star. We love you always.

DO YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW ANY Q&A SECTION THAT PROVIDE ANSWERS TO MY QUESTIONS?

2009-06-20T08:39:00.000+07:00

I'm feeling troubled. I wish I could write it all down here, but it's too many private thoughts to pour into one tiny public space such this simple blog. Out of guilt, out of sadness, out of timidity, out of frustration, out of one too many too personal sentiments that I have to keep them to myself.

I need to find my answers and be relieved again and let 'em all be water under the bridge.

I want to wake up full with desire and ideas to do something passionate again. I want to be filled with love. With laughter, cloudy days (I LOVE it when it's cloudy), a good friend by my side. A good DVD, good music, a good friend by my side. An overflowing discussion about everything and nothing, a nice walking path to have arguments on, a good friend by my side. I miss to have a cherry-topped banana split and a good friend by my side.

Or maybe I just miss someone. Badly.

When you are far from a lover there are only words to wrap around him: strange and deficient bandages that do not put at ease the fireful fits of energy that break open inside of you just to get closer to him. Humans are incredible things, to find each other and live in comfort and knowing and commitment." (Sophie Ward - model/author/writer)

img credit: The Blog Is Found

GROSSED OUT

2009-06-19T10:55:00.001+07:00

I just got my earwax.. errrr.. plucked. *shudder*

A TYPICAL POEM MADE OUT OF A TYPICAL HEARTBREAKING EVENING

2009-06-18T15:32:00.002+07:00

I feel so heartbroken today.
After one month and a half way through.
I'm heartbroken because I miss him so badly.
I'm hurt because I miss him to the moon and back.
I want to feel all lovey dovey again, and I just can't now.
My world was flipped upside down for days. I can't even begin to tell.
I want to go out and about in my light cotton dress and flat shoes with him
-- him, in his old faded jeans, and the pair of black flip-flops --
To all the boring places, which won't be so boring anymore
Because we will be batting our eyelashes silly
And drinking our cold ice tea to the bottom
And telling each other how pleasant it is
To have each other's company.

(And in times like this, I shouldn't have listened to sad, heartbreaking songs, something like Auld Lang Syne in language I don't even understand, should I? But I just downloaded the song and have been listening to it for the 115th time. How about that?)

img credit: Le Love

REMEMBERING AN OLD LOVE

2009-06-17T00:01:00.001+07:00

I stumbled across this website some months ago. And I bookmarked it, because the story felt so close to my heart. It broke my heart to shattered little pieces, brought tears into my eyes, even now as I'm writing this down. Ah.

I remembered last Sunday as I was sitting in the church, waiting for the mass to start, I heard a tiny voice of a sweet little girl with a dangling pony tail and a pair of apple fresh chubby cheek, calling for her papa to reach for her arm, as she was carefully sliding to the side, wanting to sit on the pew next to her papa. And he embraced her reaching little arm with the warmest and most beautiful smile a father could give to his daughter, all sparkly eyed and happiness in the world.

How I miss that smile.

I lost mine over a decade ago. He surrendered in his three-year battle against cyrocis. It involved a lot of pain to see him slowly consumed by the illness, and to suffer along with him.

I can still vaguely recall the last time I ever saw him before he finally gave up for good. I remember looking at a big void in his eyes, the expression of being lost, of wanting to cheat death to buy some more time to live, which HE KNEW would take all the impossible miracle in the world. Dear Lord, it was painful to see. I was in pain. And so was he, I am sure. He fell into a deep hole of coma the day before he was gone. He woke up the next day just to lose it, after a straight couple-hour long of death-and-life bargain. I wasn't there by his deathbed when he farewelled the world. He was always a lone fighter, my father, and he was until his last minute. As am I today: his eternal legacy to me.

I miss him. If he still made it to this day, he would turn 65 last April.

And I would love to find hims arms to seek the reliable comfort that was always mine, the way I used to do whenever I was troubled. When I was a little girl. Ah, long time ago.

If he still made it to this day, I would take his photographs, on his old days, on his dying days, for whatever days we had left together, too.

img credit: Philip Toledano

MAY I FEEL, SAID HE

2009-06-16T05:39:00.001+07:00

A poem about (forbidden) love by e.e. cummings

may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she

(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)

The poem is a tryst boiled down to so few words: genius.

A female reader left a comment on the blog from which I found this poem, "This poem would convince me to be a mistress anyday", she wrote.

You may laugh, but don't you think that this poem is so honestly sensual and innocently seductive, bringing you to cross the imaginative boundaries where you never thought of doing before, that would make you nod in agreement to every adultery in the world? The austere simplicity of e.e. cumming's way with words might just convince you to be absorptive in the most complicated, even shameful, chapter of human's life. And it's e.e. cummings that had made adultery beautifully forgivable as if harmless, innocuous desire; makes men digress as if not a single bible put a damnation on anyone committing it. Haha. You know, crazy stuff.

img credit: Le Love

JUST SCREAM YOUR CRAP OUT LOUD!

2009-06-15T10:55:00.001+07:00

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” (Neale Donald Walsc)

"Always do what you are afraid to do." (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

"Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are your own fears." (Rudyard Kipling)

"I am a total loser when it comes to amusement park rides. So the heck with it." (Esti)

TODAY'S STOP WOULD BE MONAS. OH, SOD OFF, SAID HE.

2009-06-14T16:57:00.005+07:00

I MADE MY FRIEND WALKED WITH ME TO MONAS TODAY. (Please note that my CAPS LOCK button is NOT broken.)

It was, again, effing hot, that my friend was literally drenched in sweat. Oh, poor guy. If you ever read this blog, I'm trully, deeply sorry, but I NEEDED to go there, and you happened to be there, buddy. I'm really sorry.

I suspect things would take a bit more of a diplomacy on spending-time-on-weekends related matters. He mentioned something pretty much like it once today. Haha. I still hope that it was only a word blurted out of the influence of the baring sun.

The worst part is that it's almost nothing to see there at the so-called museum. I can not say anything more about our visit today, because there was not any to say. Ah!

Whatta poor museum. Whatta poor us. Whatta poor guy walking next to me. He must be befuddled and really confused of what to think of me, such that he is an absolute free man than a really good guy with a crazy friend (that would be me, thank you.)

Haha.

“BE HAPPY. IT’S ONE WAY OF BEING WISE”, said Sidonie Gabrielle. Don't you agree?

DUFAN TODAY MADE ME GO BERSERK

2009-06-13T16:08:00.000+07:00

I went to Dufan today with a bunch of some other guys from work, and it was, oh, so basking hot there. I still can't believe that I actually dragged my sorry butt there today and did all the rides and screamed like I was some teenage girl. (Well, you probably say that vive the life, esti, but hey, I'm they type of girl whom you'd probably find sitting on the corner of a small cafe, away from the sea of crowd. Probably reading a magazines full of socialites and their stuff full of shit, or perhaps just burying my nose in the laptop screen. You know, boring stuff.)

But these guys were so nice, they decided to do that, I think, mostly, out of pity because I had to spend my birthday alone, away from my beloved ones. The fact is, spending my birthday alone is no different than having my dinner all by myself, pretty much like what I've been doing these past one and a half month. Bottom line is it sucks, but it's just alright.

And oh, how I love these people. They embraced me with their unfalteringly warm arms, that I am indebted to their wonderful kindness and generosity today.

I came home really late at night with dust in my hair and the sun still in my eyes, but with a heart that goes berserk, because I have friends like them as my treasure.

A YEAR OLDER

2009-06-12T16:00:00.000+07:00

I am turning a year older today.

The past year has been a lot about work, and the crossroad it has brought me to, and how it's going to bring a big change in my life: no matter path I choose to take. So here is something I decide I need to contemplate this year: love of work.

(Annie Leibovitz for Disney. A true work of love, I dare say and envy.)

"Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.

But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth’s furthest dream,
assigned to you when that dream was born.
And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life,
And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life’s inmost secret.

But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the flesh a curse written upon your brow,
then I answer that naught but the sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written.

You have been told also that life is darkness,
and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary.
And I say that life is indeed darkness save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge.
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love;
And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.

….

And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things your fashion with a breath of your own spirit.
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.

Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, “He who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is nobler than he who ploughs the soil.
“And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet.”
But I say, not in sleep, but in the overwakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades of grass;
And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.

Work is love made visible.

And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man’s hunger.
And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distils a poison in the wine.
And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man’s ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.”

(From The Prophet, “Speak to Us of Work” by Kahlil Gibran.)

LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIP AND 100 ALL TIME BEST FONTS

2009-06-07T13:37:00.003+07:00

Gaah, I've really got to admit, life without boyfriend around is quite... different. While I used to incorporate him into my daily plan and considerations, and the fact is that I always made plans so that I could spend time with him, but now with him not being around, I'm pretty much lacking of reasons to plan things out and drag my sorry butt to go to places other than my own bed. Other than the fact that my bed seems to miss me a lot lately... (excuses, excuses)

(Oh, a bit of an update, the boyfriend is now in Slovakia for an assignment. Yeah, Slovakia! How groovy! Until the next 2 years and 11 months. Holy crap. That's a frekin' long time.)

Anyway, yesterday, I had succeeded to get myself up and took myself to places (if you can call MALLS as places). I indulged myself with a necklace and a tube top (WTF?? What do I need it for? Someone please knock some sense to my consciousness, thank you) and some face cream (more WTF). And then my girl friends texted me like madness to get myself join them for a karaoke night.

And then we spent the night sitting in a LOUD, NOISY cafe (or club, was it? but then again, dont't ask me. My eyes almost popped out when a girl friend of mine ordered a bubblegum-colored drink that costs like Rp 70.000 and tasted like Lysol and so strong it almost choked the hell out of her, but seemed it became everyone's favourite drink that night, everyone but me, because I ordered, here it goes, FRUIT PUNCH JUICE for the celebration of the hip and in-style night out. Classy, no?)

"Lost" was not exactly the right word to describe my situation last night because, heck, it was really worst. I was thinking about my laptop the whole time last night, and imagining myself becoming this geeky, laptop-screen staring girl that I actually am. How pathetic is that? I know. (While my girlfriend was paying some cash for her Raspberry-scent shower gel at The Body Shop, I was weighing up a box of sets of laptop screen cleaner. No joking).

Anyway, I realize, perhaps this is just a phase where I need to readjust my life to the fact that I am alone at the moment. We've been living separately for a little over a month right now and I think I'm doing great, as much as I hope he is as well. Some occasional dirty daydreaming involved (haha.. noooo.. I've not gotten to that dirty part yet) in between the month, but then again, life is grand, ain't it?

Readjusting to groovy crazy girl friends, to new big plans, to far away trips, to long distance relationship (!!), to new exciting things, to learning a new foreign language, to laughing alone watching a ridiculously funny movie. Oh, the last one is a killer. I kinda miss him now. An itty bitty bit.

Like now. I'm downloading 100 all time best fonts and it's already 90% now, and I can't wait to install it in my laptop. Hahahaha. How do you readjust to that.

Send help asap!

A CICIERO OVERSIZE CLUTCH FOR ME

2009-06-06T13:43:00.009+07:00

Hahaha.. Look what I got today. A clutch from Ciciero. A gold/bronze colored one. Hahaha. I can't remember what I was thinking when I ordered this thing on the internet. Oh yeah, by the way, I ordered this clutch online, got carried away with all the heyday of online shopping that young girls these days are so excited about. I read some of them blogging their finds and when I was really bored.. and lonely.. and in the state of need-to-save-money instead of let's-spend-'em-some-more (read: broke), I made a few clicks and ordered this clutch. And get hysterical. Just like young girls.

But hey, the clutch turns out to be finely made, and literally OVERSIZE, as mentioned by the seller, Dini Surono. I got the clutch along with a catalog of her other products and I really need to bonk my head to keep myself from ordering another one.

Anyway, if you want to get yourself or give your loved one something but you have no idea what to get, this might be a good choice, and you don't have to hover around the mall with the chance of walking home empty handed. Just hop over to Ciciero, peruse, order, and wait for it delivered.

Hahaha. I'm such a bad influence.

THAT EMPTY SPACE

2009-06-05T12:10:00.000+07:00

image credit: le love

To Look Back a Little

2009-03-02T23:27:00.002+07:00

I’ve been off for a couple of months. Or probably some more. Well, the (lame, old) excuse is that I’ve been busy, busy, busy.

Well, the truth is, I’ve been really busy. Like really.

I spent the last crazy few months globetrotting, hopping from one foreign place to another, packing and unpacking my suitcase every weekend, taking care of one project after another, going from one check-in booth to the others, and hotel rooms felt like second homes to me.

It all felt so crazy and frustrating, almost to the feeling of a dog chasing its own tail. Not that I’m comparing myself to a dog, but… Hmpfff… Anyways,…

I was really tired and tensed and focused too much on work, I completely forgot to think about myself.

Forgot that a girl needs to sit down, and put on some fruit face mask or maybe do a self-peeling at home just to refresh a bit, or to revisit my long-forgotten goals, or to take into accounts the sweet little things that used to be my life, such as taking pictures of feet and mangoes. And blogging, of course. And to catch some breath.

This is my first post after a long absence and hopefully tomorrow another post will follow.

Hi there!

2008-11-04T20:58:00.002+07:00

Hi there, dear blogger friends. I'm so sorry for abandoning and neglecting this blog for so long. I've been swamped with so many stuff, mostly works, that all I want to do as soon as I get home or when I have a bit of a spare time of my own is to crash down and snooze.

I really miss writing (more like mumbling, actually) and sharing my world with you all (ed: narcissistic citizen journalism).

Will be back soon with all fresh new stories!

Ciao!

Cause This is Thriller, Thriller Night

2008-07-24T12:01:00.004+07:00

An awful, awful, thing just happened last night.

A MAD DUDE just broke into my place, but thank GOD he did not make his way toward my room.

It was A LITTLE BIT PAST MIDNIGHT when I needed to make a “wee” business at the toilet before I crashed on my bed. So I stepped down the stairs to go to the toilet. I thought I saw a silhouette of a guy, whom I thought to be my next door (literally) neighbour. So I said a chit-chatty “hi, there” to the guy.

To my surprise, when the guy turned his back, it was the MAD DUDE that I usually saw in the morning on my way to work, sitting on the asphalt road, leaning to my neighbour’s house’ brick-wall fence. That poor dude. (I feel so sorry for you, man)

And there he was, holding a lit cigarette, asking me, “hey, do you have blah blah blah”, smiling a dubious smile. The blah-blah-blah part was mostly a blur, for it was the split second I sprinted back toward my room and panting and pulling my blanket tight and trembling like a wet cat.

To bring out the funk, I tried to make some phone calls to my friends, which, inexplicably, no body picked. Except this one friend whom had nicely called me back and told me to calm down and breath, and to hold a stone in my palm to hold the urge of my “wee” business. (What?? Dude. Seriously. I was this close from my little Armageddon.)

A MAD DUDE?? I swear, last night couldn’t get any weirder.

Small Silly Nearly-Forgotten Moments in My Life that Brought Great Personal Joy

2008-07-23T10:33:00.002+07:00

1. An intern kid at my office never said hi to me for a week because she didn’t know that I’m a staff there. She thought I was just another intern. *beaming with my every ounce of ever youthfulness*
2. Not having my hair washed for three days (eek!), but EVERYONE thought that my hair looked fabulous.
3. Being able to eat rubber-like meat piece successfully without looking starving or totally uncivilized in front of somebody I had a crush on during high school.
4. Coming at the office terribly late at 10.15 am discovering that my boss was on his first day of one-week leave which I completely forgot about.
5. Waking up and finding out that I was having a terrible cold and relatively warm forehead. Not exactly a life-threatening illness, but perfect enough of an excuse for having a day off from work without having to lie to my boss.
6. Discovering a 50% discount on this really hot piece of clothes of a fantabulous brand.
7. Hearing people say that the 50%-discounted clothes makes me ROCK.
8. Laying on a fresh bed sheet.
9. Grabbing the last piece of cookie left in the jar.
10. Baking the most perfect chocolate cookies on my first attempt of baking.
11. Being able to send an sms in a closed lift.
12. A successful attempt to dislodge a tiny piece of food trapped in between my teeth.
13. The second I stepped out of a toilet after having to hold the “wee” business for hours.
14. Finding a Rp 5000 bill in the darkest corner of my bag’s inner pocket just a day before payday.
15. Finding a stiff, dried, wrinkle Rp 50.000 bill inside my newly washed jeans’ pocket.

Another 3 Days to Go And That's It

2008-07-22T10:59:00.001+07:00

I miss the funny-faced guy. The last time I saw him, he had his hair trimmed down to the last millimeter just hours before he hopped into the plane last Wednesday. I wonder how his hair turns out to be when I see him in the next 3 days. Hoho.

Being away from the one you love is frustrating indeed, especially if you feel like you have this long black worm-hole separating your two worlds.

But yesterday I discovered that yes, he truly loves me. Oh, yay.

It’s good being loved. *happy*

2008-07-21T10:33:00.000+07:00

It’s funny how life knocks me on the head and reminds me of the precious things I’ve taken for granted.

Of family love.

Of long-lost (nearly) forgotten friends.

Of new-found friendships.

Of the cherished amity of an ex-boyfriend (!!!)

Of the past.

Of all the things that I’ve been fretting about impatiently for years. Oh, how I should try to make amend with this life.

This picture is me at 9 am today, smiling and clueless of how life would knocked me over and over again throughout the day.

Out and About: Jalan Sabang, Jakarta

2008-07-20T09:04:00.007+07:00

Jalan Sabang is a street in Central Jakarta vastly known for its street food vendors dotted along its street. I heard that it used to be more crowded and packed with many more vendors and tents and stalls than it is now. Which is pretty unimaginable to me, since with its current condition, the street is jam-packed like Woodstock in the 60s. It is widened 1,5 times its former width only a year ago on traffic-jam reason and apparently it hasn’t come up as the best solution for the establishment yet. Oh, heck.

The menu the street offers varies from traditional East-Java origin Lamongan food to Middle East selections. Well, they’re basically in the list that your doctors won’t be so very happy about to find out on your regular medical check-up.

Smoke is a permanent feature there. Smoke from the crawling vehicles or from the satay vendor, you just can never tell. They intertwine together up into the sky, make their way to the passers-by, quickly absorbed into the pores of your skin and clothes, that even Chanel No. 5 can’t do anything about.

And boy do I love satay. But hey, doesn’t everybody? I think I’ve said it before, haven’t I?

One of my favourite food to taste while I’m there is Roti Canai. The darn thing is wickedly delicious. In case you want to pay some visit, the stall is located on the corner of Jalan Sabang and Djakarta Theatre. You see that big iron pot next to the satay vendor in the picture above? It belongs to the Roti Canai stall that also makes such great martabaks. Oh, the street is yumminess overload!

And oh, by the way, these are my silly friends, Rino and Bonnie. They were giggling for no obvious reasons for some time to the point that it’s quite amusing to watch them giggling. And their giggles were contagious. Rats. I think they got drunk from the Teh Botol.

Work was ...

2008-06-19T17:10:00.000+07:00

... crappy today.
Must get ready for tomorrow's work meeting out of the city.
I checked my Flickr in between my non-work activities over and over again to no purpose.
And office closed down today at 4.30 p.m.

Work, work, work.
Bleh.

Off I go.

How Men Suck Big Time at Girl-Talks

2008-06-16T21:46:00.004+07:00

This is me, Kiki the boyfriend and a friend -- let’s call him Mutt on anonymity reason – in a brief conversation on SHOES, at the canteen, 4 pm, today. It all started from a rumor that’s been public for a while, saying that I’m in a middle of a hunt for shoes. A rumor that came from a very, very unreliable source. (Although I might’ve not said no in a totally different circumstances. After all, we, girls, are ALWAYS in a hunt for shoes, aren’t we? AREN'T WE?? No? Okay, then. Well.)
---------------------------------------------------------

Mutt: “Hey Est, got your shoes yet?”

Esti: “No. Why?”

Mutt: “Nothing to be found at that Charles and Keith of yours?”

Esti: “Umm..” *feeling awkward for having a shoe-conversation with a guy whom I rarely speak more than one-syllabic word with*

Mutt: “Are those your new Charles and Keith you’re wearing? Or are those, umm, what’s that other brand.. Umm, Marie Claire? Yup. That Marie Claire.” *Mutt, Kiki and I are gawking observably at my shoes*

Esti: “Umm..” *still feeling awkward*

Mutt: “Chas and Keeth.”

Esti: “Chas and Keeth.”

Mutt: “Chas and Keeth.” *chuckled*

Esti: *sigh* “Chas and Keeth it is, buddy.”

Mutt: *still having the observing-look on my shoes* “No? Looks like your heels are a bit worn out. So, not new?”

Esti: “Nah.”

Kiki: *puzzled* “Sooo, tell me, Charles and Keith is actually a shoe BRAND?!?”

Mutt: “Duh. Hello.”

Kiki: “I thought that Charles and Keith is just the name of the store. Now that figures.”

Mutt: “Aw, man. By the way, I kept my girlfriend company there like a couple of times. But she didn’t get any. I asked why, there were like MYRIADS pairs to choose from. She said she couldn’t find the model. I think she was looking for THAT kind of shoes. *pointing at my shoes again. observation reenacted* Pointy, black, low heels. Pointy.”

Kiki: *nodded* “Pointy huh? She doesn’t like those, you know, round-pointed shoes?" (THEY’RE CALLED PUMPS, BOYS. P-U-M-P-S.)

Mutt: “I guess not. I think it’s because all girls wear pointy-shoes these days. Isn’t it, Est?”

Esti: *sigh* “I don’t know, buddy, I simply don’t know.”

Mutt: “Do you have round-pointed shoes, Est?” (PUMPS, BUDDY. PHUMPHS.)

Esti: “You know what? Let’s end this embarrassing and frustrating shoes-conversation and talk soccer!”

Mutt: “Oh right, this morning’s Euro match sucks blah blah blah..”

Esti: *sigh*

---------------------------------------------------------
So, what’s next, buddies? Age repair night creams? Latest mascaras from L'oreal? Wonder bras??

What Others Blog About: The Sartorialist

2008-06-14T20:27:00.004+07:00

I don’t remember exactly how I came to this site. What I know is that I’ve been stalking this blog for about six month now and it definitely becomes one of my favourites (especially at those times when my brain just shuts down from doing anymore important, official, high-level classification assignments and all their hideous glory).

What I like about this site is that because The Sartorialist is choked full of wonderful people in pretty dresses in big crazy cities like New York, London, Milan, Paris, Stockholm and other world cities with lots of fantabulous, quirky-dressed people living in there and amazing stories behind the pictures. It’s impossible for not loving it! But then again, it’s just me. I’m the one with the spastic mind. Heehaw!

It is Scott Schuman, an old player in the fashion industry, who runs the popular site. The Sartorialist gains popularity in no time and becomes the musing of world-class fash-ion-eest-tah, it becomes sooOoo famous that Mr. Schumann is now publicly identified as “The Sartorialist”. He has ABUNDANT readers all across the globe that would loyally leave comments on the pop-up comment box. Which makes me come to my amazement on the thought of how a piece of clothes can draw so much pros and cons. Amazing!

So if you need a fresh breath of inspiration, or wish upon a blog of beautiful dresses that you can never afford nor look good on you, then The Sartorialist is your right place to go to. So hop over already!

Turning 28 ...

2008-06-12T22:57:00.005+07:00

… is marvelous.

This morning, the nice people at work shouted me a mad HAAAPPYY BIIIRTHHHDAAAYYY as I was stepping the office door. They prepared assorted slices of cakes for me and told me LET’S PRETEND IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY (whole) CAKE, SWEETHEART!

And my dear, dear funny-faced girl-partner sitting next to me gave me this lovely purse. The purse looks really, really nice and looks like something you might find in one of those Mango boutiques. My silly girl-partner told me that she got it in a 70%-off sale hahahahahaw she giggled and beamed with utter pride.

And on the evening, my boyfriend took me for a dining out. I chose THE Barbeque Oxtail Soup and he had Singapore Laksa for our special dinner. Oh!

When I was 18 I thought that turning 28 meant going to be all grown up, in the sense of greater wisdom, celebrated achievement, and maybe some wrinkles here and there.

Well, maybe I am now.

10 flipping years later since my 18th birthday, I know that I’m still the plain ol’ Esti as I was 10 years ago. I have an incredible mother whose love’s like the morning sun. A baby brother who’s not so baby-ish anymore since he towered over me 8 years ago whom I miss so very much.

Same ol’ Esti, only now I have this new fetish on shoes and pretty dresses. And on James McAvoy, of course. And a strange affection on New Kids on the Block and Take That. And a crazy boyfriend by my side. And a blog to keep my larger-than-life epic recorded and passed on from one civilization to the next. Haha. Am I blessed or what?

*happy*

Pretty Dresses from Forever 21

2008-06-11T15:58:00.003+07:00

Oh! I feel like a little girl that goes mad mad mad in a candy shop! I browsed and browsed through Forever 21 and found out that they have PLETHORA of disgustingly pretty dresses.

They make me want to step down a stair like a princess and twirl and gloat in all of my smugness all day long! Mwahahah!

What Comes Up, Apparently Really Must Come Down

2008-06-10T17:39:00.002+07:00

I was about to leave for work today in my best mood that I hadn’t had in days.

I put on my power pants and favourite white blouse and was ready to take on the world, for all the goodness in Patrick Dempsey sake!

I stepped down the stairs and clumsily threw my keys, tea bag and sugar into my bag, when suddenly I tripped on my high heels and BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAMMH..!! I bounced down the stairs and graciously landed on my now-INCREDIBLY-sore bum! *awh?*

Luckily I’ve got no bruised arms nor legs. Nothing serious really. Nothing much but a SERIOUSLY BRUISED EGO.

Arrrghh, this whole law of gravity thing!!

Made of Honor

2008-06-09T22:32:00.005+07:00

Tonight was the chicks (and a couple of roosters) night out. We went watching “Made of Honor”, updating our chick-flick list that we would watch together when we are feeling somehow hormonal (it also goes to the roosters, by the way).

But wait a minute, “Made of Honor” is ACTUALLY the first chick flick that we ever watched together.

We’re so used to watch heroic, colossal movies that involve a whole heap of dripping blood and firing bullets, giant talking robots and bug-human crawling on the city skyscraper’s walls. So it feels GOOD to watch a GIGANTIC face of Patrick Dempsey smooching on the GIGANTIC screen every once in a while.

Isn’t Mr. Dempsey dreamy or what. Will all the chicks (and roosters) in favour say aye?

Too Much Time on My Hands

2008-06-08T16:58:00.002+07:00

Happy belated birthday, stud! All the best wishes!
Is it just me or are those cheeks getting chubbier? Hohoho.

A Disturbing Conversation

2008-06-07T16:38:00.000+07:00

Oh La La!

2008-06-06T22:11:00.002+07:00

I saw you sitting on the front porch of the café, and a tall orange juice was on your table.
I saw that your friend was also there; and he ordered a glass of hot chocolate for himself.
I noticed that you sleeves were way rolled up; couldn’t blame you, for it was such a balmy evening.

I saw you chatted; and laughed; and amused (as were we) by the appearance of the café owner lady, strutting in her glorious costume and a pair of WINTER black boots; and shaked your tall paper cup of orange juice on and on; and slurped it; and slid down your chair, as Rod Steward’s “I’ve Got A Crush on You” and the rest of the American Songbook record, filling up the steamy city air.

Ah, life is fabulous, is it not, Sir? Oui?

What Others Blog About: Little People – A Tiny Street Art Project

2008-06-05T18:12:00.005+07:00

I was plodding through the internet today and I stumbled across Little People – A Tiny Street Art Project by a London-based Artist, Slinkachu. It’s a simple yet charming blog about little statues of people and other teensy weensy miniatures stood poised on scores of unexpected corners of London and other world cities.

What I love about the pictures in the blog is that they tell wonderful stories of real human life, looking so effortless, but so genuine and witty, and definitely a smile-stretcher.

While I was scrolling down and marveled at each story and idea behind each picture, I couldn’t stop wondering on how the artist could come up with all these brilliant ideas. Perhaps he (she) daydreams all day long on what next story to tell. Or on the perfect spot in the city for his (her) little people to pose.

How does he (she) keep all these wee stuff safe? Does he (she) carry around all these little statues in a Ziploc bag? Or maybe in a lunch box or something.

And where does he (she) get these tiny statues? Does he (she) order it from one of those cute etsy shops in the internet? Or does he (she) just make and hand-paint them all by himself? Or do they come in Cheetos bags?? Then can I have one of those Cheetos bags, please? Oh, those creativity juice! *oozing an awful lotta jealousy and curiosity*

Here is my favourite story of all the little people so far from the blog.

A father keeping his darling little daughter save from the attack of the GIANT SUPERMONSTER BUG! Booyah! Eat that, bug!

Charles and Keith: Shoe Daydreaming

2008-06-04T11:09:00.002+07:00

Work feels really dull lately. Internet is my only saving grace to escape from the humdrum of routine and work chores. Scouring on many and many more useless web trash. And following it up in my afternoon daydream.

And hey, look what I found on Charles and Keith. *eep!*

Funny how I finally chose similar styles of shoes on random selection. Which turned out not looking so random anymore. Heehaw.

A Round-Shaped World

2008-06-03T13:19:00.002+07:00

Of Being Kidnapped, Red Stick Lamp and Karaoke

2008-06-02T23:19:00.003+07:00

This ridiculous people! Can you believe what they did to me just tonight?

Four nincompoops KIDNAPPED me and PUT me into a car. Well, a taxi, actually. But it’s true!

I’m not kidding you! They did that to me! One of them even did the shoving-the-head-into-the-car thingy as if I were a Hannibal Lecter.

I SCREAMED *HEEELLPPP!!* to the security guard but the dude, holding a red stick lamp on his hand, tilted his head towards my direction, and chuckled at the whole scene. I wished he would’ve done something more than what he did, or he could’ve just thumped my kidnappers with his red stick lamp! Hello!

I TRIED TO RUN but this bunch of dodos just wouldn’t let me go and THREATENED to carry me by my feet if I wouldn’t stop screaming.

They released me at a Karaoke place, NavNav, in Kelapa Gading.

And I had no other choice, but joined the Conga line and danced to the Miami Sound Machine. Or rather to Meggy Z’s tunes, actually. And some other dangdut singers’. Which made me come to the question of why do all dangdut songs ought to be entitled in such obnoxious phrases as “Kelambu Pengantin”, “Pagar Makan Tanaman”, “Mang Madun”, “Jablai”, “Dikocok-kocok” or – brace yourself, dear friends – “Belah Duren”. *sigh*

It was the night of exuding the inner loser within me.

For you kidnappers: I swear, you guys, you’ll pay for this later. If not in your next lives. Or else.

And dear security dude, have a nice life with that red stick lamp of yours. I wish you success in your preserving law and order in our neigbourhood. Geez.

Cleaning Frenzy

2008-05-27T21:08:00.001+07:00

You should see me yesterday! I was only trying to exchange the places where I put my printer and my paper stacks, and look what I’ve finally done!

It was 4 pm already and I had a LONG, TORTUROUS, NASTY day at work. There was nothing else I’d rather do but to stomp off the office in a huff.

To buy some time (and to keep myself looking busy) until my boss checked out the place, I exchanged the places where I put my printer to that of my paper stacks, and vice versa. I’d been wanting to do that for quite some time, anyway.

So I exchanged their places respectively.

Oh, but the printer cable turned out to be too short, so I had to exchange my PC’s cable printer to a longer one (which I got it yanked from another PC).

Uh oh, but look at these towering stacks and clutters of used papers of all sizes. What should I do with this horrible junk?

I think I could use some nice file boxes to store the sorted papers in. Hmm, I think I’ve seen it stored somewhere in that gigantic, jam-packed cupboard. *focus altered to the gigantic cupboard*

*some good minutes later* My, my, look what I found! A pair of PC speaker! And some file boxes! Yay and double yay!

*30 good minutes later, still sorting out papers, and figuring out where to put the newly found PC speakers on my super tiny kindy desk fully loaded with officialdom byproduct *

*Scanning the desk again* Cables jumbled together under the desk! Uh oh! Must do something about it! Must clean! Must rearrange! Must do something! *by this hour, I was Vicki the girl robot*

By this hour? What hour is it, anyway? Whoa! 7 pm!?!

Yes, it was 7 pm. The whole rearranging-removing-throwing out-cleaning business was a total madness. But I walked home *BEAMING* in satisfaction.

Esti for OPEC Member

2008-05-26T22:34:00.003+07:00

It was 7 pm at the office and I was still fully loaded with work chores. As my brain finally decided to refuse doing more thinking, I took my camera out and 50 clicks later I've got my face inside my camera in many different (bizarro) facial expressions.

So later on, when my boyfriend peeked into my camera, he giggled and said, "Oh look honey, you may as well become the OPEC member". (Gee, thanks hon, that was very supportive of you. I never knew that you were that ATTENTIVE. To my forehead. And the barrels of oil that I could've produced from my body part. Why the thought never occurs to me before, I wonder? What a person of thoughts, you are, hon. *sigh*)

And what am I thinking putting this picture on the internet, anyway? Silly cow.

The Memory Keeper's Daughter

2008-05-18T18:59:00.001+07:00

“She sang on, accepting his voice as she might the wind. The singing merged, and the music was inside him, a humming in his flesh, and it was outside, too, her voice a twin to his own. When the song ended, they stayed as they were in the clear pale light of the afternoon. “ (p. 401)

I bought this book simply because it, well, was on the sale rack. But being a daughter myself, I feel related to the word “daughter” on the title. Another reason is that because it has beautifully-designed front cover.

“The Memory Keeper’s Daughter” is basically about a well-kept secret and its impact on the lifetime journey of each member of the Henry family and the people around the family. The story set on the span of the lives of two generations (that of David and Norah Henry and of Caroline Gill, and that of the Henrys’ twins: Paul and Phoebe).

Why “The Memory Keeper’s Daughter”? It’s never explicitly explained in the book, but I guess it relates to the old-time camera belongs to David Henry, that was commercially promoted as “The Memory Keeper”. And since the story revolves around the shambles initiated by David Henry and the longing of the Henrys to their long lost daughter, Phoebe, hence “The Memory Keeper’s Daughter”.

I enjoyed reading it. It’s sure a page turner. Although the story itself is quite typical (I can picture HBO or some other American network TV films the book for the 10 am show), but I like how Kim Edwards tells the story in poetic and beautifully crafted words.

Ehm. I even found myself dropped a tear or two while reading a part of the book. Anyway.

I believe this book will well-suit for most women.

I can’t imagine my male friends reading this book and ooh-aahing at the scene where Caroline Gill runs here and there like a headless chook on her sudden motherhood. Or at the scene where little Phoebe was almost lost on the city gutter to chase her kitten amidst the hard pouring rain.

I can see them TILTING their heads as they flip page by page of the book, before they close it and push the “play” button abruptly on the DVD player for the long awaited sequel of “Indiana Jones”.

For you girls, go read and weep (I mean, in a good way).

Giggling in the Back Seat

2008-05-11T23:04:00.001+07:00

I saw the taxi driver kept peeking from the rear-view mirror from time to time, and raised his eyebrows as I took a gazillion pictures of us giggling in the backseat.

The Rain that Kills the Adrenaline Rush

2008-05-10T09:59:00.004+07:00

When the boys are all geared up and (claim that they are) on their peak to shake some booties and to shatter some goalie net, it means that the typical Friday night is about to begin. (Which we all girls hate to the root of our weekend pang. Uh oh.)

After a couple clumsy moves of warm-ups, a half-round of jogging, a suicide goal that everybody so clueless about, and a pose in the middle of chaotic ball chasing scene *giggle, giggle, giggle* (way to go Nabyl), the game was a wrap when suddenly the rain started to trickle down.

This rain. Whatta killer. (Which I love, love, love) ;) *chuckle*

It turned out to be raining cats and dogs. And we were all TRAPPED there.

Pssst.. Care to know what happened next? I'll tell you, but you don't hear it from me.

Well. They BOYS were GOSSIPING until the rain stopped in the middle of the night. (It was so weird listening to them gossiping. *gasp* I mean, "BOYS" and "GOSSIPING"? Whatta bizarre combination, don't you all think? I even thought I overheard the word "Barbie and Ken" mentioned somewhere, but you know, I might've been wrong. After all, the rain was quite loud. (Hehehahahehaw) But if it was true, of course, you didn't hear it from me.)

Happy Feet

2008-04-20T17:54:00.000+07:00

His on the flip-flops,

And mine on the black flats.

Down the kilometers of the roads,

The confusing labyrinths of the malls,

And the alleys of the many supermarkets,

To splurge our monthly paycheck,

On dozens of bootleg DVDs and Playstation coolest games.

We are a couple of weirdos in flip-flops and black flats.

The Duck King

2008-04-19T23:14:00.001+07:00

We’ve been wanting to eat at this place for quite some time. For quite some years, actually. But the thought of the fanciness of the place, the overwhelming price and everything kept us from stepping on its doorway. We’re such a couple of hillbillies. That I know.

It was our second time. We got addicted since we tried the place about a month ago.

Today’s menu: we ordered the Roasted Duck Noodle Soup and Chinese Tea.

The noodle soup tastes amazing. The duck broth is perrrfect and the duck meat is tender beyond imagination and the smell of it, mmmmmm… it makes our taste buds sang Miss Mariah Carey’s infamous seven pitches.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy eating a bowl of noodle soup.

Boy, you should see our eyes grew as large as saucers as we slurped our bowls clean down to the bottom. It was a tad embarrassing, really.

2008-03-24T13:34:00.002+07:00

I love this stuff head over heels. Love. Love. So. Much. Oh. Baby.

I fell in love for the very first time with this gourmet a little less than a decade ago on a family trip to Lombok Island.

The real Plecing Kangkung is always served in delicate greeness, crisp (in the veggie way), with super-super hot chilli mix and sprinkle of sliced wilty tomatoes and fried peanuts. Oh, baby. (Did I say that already?)

And recently, I had it again in Bandung on a recent trip with a bunch of friends. The Plecing Kangkung was hot, hot, hot and the sensation sparked in an instant quick. As I gulp the Plecing Kangkung down, it felt like my head spinned around and was swollen ten times bigger. And my nostrils were soon overflowed with oozy salty fluid. The burning sensation was crazy, I felt like I just chowed down a tasty bonfire. But worked so much better than any multiple doze of sedation, I assume.

Plecing Kangkung is one among the few reasons why I eat chilli these days. But it’s another story.

When I was a child, all snotty and sunburnt, I wouldn’t dare to touch the darn thing with a ten-foot pole. Nor to get within the perimeter of any food formation that’s a combination of chilli and veggies. And I ended up being the biggest loser in my family and playing group.

Mocked and beat, once when I was 6 yrs-old, I took this challenge from my playmates to eat a teeny-weeny chilli in single chomp. On the urge to wipe the big letter “L” away from my forehead, I took the challenge and CHOMPED THE EVIL CHOW like a total schmuck. It BURNT, BURNT, BURNT LIKE HELL, and I ran like greased lightning towards home and DRANK STRAIGHT FROM MY MOTHER’S WATER JUG until I got tipsy from drinking water. (Oh, how I still remember the questioning look on my mother’s face.) And throughout the rest of the day, I thought I was going to die because I felt funny in my whole body.

Nevertheless, I thank heaven for letting those good people inventing the food goodness of Plecing Kangkung and God bless the family trip to Lombok. Amen.

2008-03-23T13:52:00.001+07:00

1. Heavens to Betsy, it’s Easter already!
2. If you celebrate Easter, have a jolly and blessed Easter!
3. If you’re heading back to Jakarta from a long weekend holiday, have a safe and fun trip!
4. If you were clueless and fluttering aimlessly during the long weekend, that makes the two of us.
5. If you wonder what do bunnies and eggs have to do with Easter, so do I.
6. If you ask me why Pythagoras hated beans so much and forbade members of his ancient Greek religious brotherhood from touching beans, I don’t know what to tell you.
7. Anyway, do you know that the Greek interrogation mark became today’s English semicolon; Bizarre, no;
8. But I do know how to say “The girl ate mush and three biscuits but she wasn’t satisfied” in traditional Gullah slave language, that is “Uma-chil’ nyamnyam fufu an t’ree roll-roun, but ‘e ain’t satify”.
9. Enjoy the rest of your Easter holiday!
10. I’m starting a new book today. Wish me luck! I’ll keep you up in a few dozen years! Tata!

banner image taken from www.gettyimages.com

2008-03-21T11:18:00.002+07:00

“It was only that recently his columns had become more like conservative rants and less like the society-and-entertainment commentary readers had been slavishly devoted to for years. He was a master at this very specific genre, never bothering to cover outright gossip but also never taking himself too seriously. At least until recently, when he’d written a thousand words on why the United Nations was the Devil incarnate (A summary: “Why, in this age of super-technology, do all those diplomats in New York City need to physically be here, taking up all the best parking places and the best tables at restaurants, adding to the non-English-speaking environment in the city? Why can’t they just email their votes from their respective countries? Why should we have to deal with gridlock and security nightmares when no one listens to them anyway? And if they absolutely refuse to work electronically from their home countries, why don’t we move the whole production to Lincoln, Nebraska and see if they’re all still dying to come here to better the world?”)”

Go ponder. And laugh. And grab a chicken drum. And eat it. And wipe your mouth clean. And ponder this excerpt from “Everyone Worth Knowing” by Lauren Weisberger.
--------------------------------------------------

My reading rate this year just sucks. This is only my second book I’ve read in 2008 and it’s a chick lit.

It’s called “Everyone Worth Knowing” written by Lauren Weisberger, who also wrote “The Devil Wears Prada”.

The story follows the life of a 28 year-old Bette Robinson as she tries to conquer the Big Apple and gets trapped in the hype of New York’s hottest public relations firm and the sudden over-and-confused flimflams of her personal life.

It’s typical and predictable. But the pro’s are that it’s easy, entertaining and refreshing. And it’s a million times better than the work papers in my office. Plus it’s a New York Times bestseller. Which pinpoints the fact that there are thousands, probably millions, of strayed, confused and clueless people out there, like me, in bookstores worldwide.

2008-03-20T10:48:00.001+07:00

I have several things to report from the futsal court on Wednesday night. I can sum it up in 10 bullet points. Brace yourself while I fire away.

1. I must have been heavily sedated or jaded when I INSISTED to watch this hordes playing futsal. Well, it’s Wednesday night and the idea of spending the long weekend in Jakarta just unbelievably sucks and the day-long bad dream at work didn’t psyche me up for it, either.

2. I can come up with another 375 reasons, but anyway, I decided that I’d just stay by the futsal court to watch this hordes working their asses and hips out. I’m lost at whether I was actually sedated or just jaded, but the view of a dozen of rounded bellies bobbing up and down and up and down while chasing after the small ball was quite obscene, really.

3. But with my ultra sheer will power, I managed to stay put and conscious until the game was wrapped and report it to you all.

4. So this is what happened when these sports got to the court. Apparently ANOTHER HORDES has taken over the court first. But, hack, kick, and spit!, that aint’t no keepin’ them from seeing the futsal through to the bitter end that night.

5. Take these three as example. They have been playing futsal together since the 1908. They’ve become BFFs ever since and decided to wear blue that night in honour of their first centennial of togetherness in futsal. How sweet. So, they intended to stay until the new hordes vamooses. And to my amazement, the power of united blue DID work. Yay and double yay.

6. These are a series of pictures that I took in random. I just snapped and snapped and snapped. They show how incredible my photography skill is and how sophisticated my state-of-the-art camera set is. The concept and the FOCUS and the angle and all just “take my breath away” as I’m sure it does to yours. To the point where I was literally lacking my oxygen supply and losing my ability to think straight and logical that I decided to put these “masterpieces” on the net.

7. And there is always a get together after every match. For the evaluation and review and stuff. The conversation usually revolves around intellectually-stimulating topics such as:
Jeff: “Dude, you kicked like a pro! Cool!”;
Mutt: “But you’re totally way cooler, you kicked so hard it went all the way THROUGH the goal net”;
Jeff: “Awww dude, that’s so nice of you. But you can make a goal while doing a TRIPLE SALTO!”
Mutt: “Awww, that’s nothing. But you, you definitely CAN kick! You can kick while picking your nose and toes, and the ball will go all the way circling the planet!”

Oh, brother.

8. Okay, the conversation above did not happen. But even after I imagined that it really happened, I am not the least stimulated by it. My mind is still fixated on the dozen slow-motioning tummies that went up. and down. and up. and down. and up. and … oh I need to distract my mind and listen to New Kids and the Block’s “Tonight” now.

9. I can’t think of a #9.

10. I also can’t think of a #10. Thanks for bearing your reading pain with me, anyway.

Yours truly,
Futsal groupie
Easily distracted by slow-motions
Heavily sedated and jaded like a hippopotamus sent across the ocean

2008-03-18T10:58:00.004+07:00

2008-03-17T23:54:00.001+07:00

It was 11pm and my sleepy mode was on.

I was doing my night ritual: the tooth-brushing and the face-washing, when OUCH my nose hurt!

I checked what was wrong, and it turned out that I have a zit the size of Mount Krakatoa inside my left nostril!

It’s not that I’ve never had zits before, but this time it feels like the blood and the veins underneath is pulsing so strong that I feel a tad dizzy as I slowly touch my nose. Uuhh. Oohh. Ouch.

And talking about blowing and picking your nose! Whew!

So, I wanted to take a picture of me (in pain over the pimple) to post with this story, but instead, I took A WHOLE LOTTA pictures of myself. In the middle of the night. I'm such a silly cow. Hee.

2008-03-16T09:30:00.000+07:00

Oh yeah I watch it religiously year after year. I’m only this close from being their groupies.

I started watching the show as it was entering season 2 in which Ruben Studdard takes the first place. My mother is also a big fan of the show. Back home in Solo, we would be busy giving comments and our thumbs up/down throughout the contestants’ performances. Regardless what Simon says, of course. He’s a bit of a deadpan fish and his entire wardrobe collection consists of dozens of black and white tees only.

I was so ecstatic that Ruben Studdard won the show, that I bought his first album and listened to “I’m Sorry for 2004” over and over again until my ears were numb. Although now that I think of it again, the song sounds a bit dry to me.

And then there was the season where Carrie Underwood’s the winner. She’s so lovely and sings beautifully. I missed the entire season where Fantasia Barrino became the winner though.

Last year, I voted for Blake Lewis. Beside for the fact that he’s so cute and fresh, I like him because he’s so good at the beat-boxing thingy, plus that his megawatt ear-to-ear smile is a killer. He wrapped the season up being second place.

For this season, my vote totally goes for Jason Castro. His shy and humbled personality (and the uber cool dreadlock) totally blows my mind. And he’s so different from the other Castro (Mwahaha. Pun intended). He turns me into a vegetable in front of the TV for two straight hours on weekends and makes me want to grab a harmonica and sing to all of John Denver’s ballads.

Although that means I sort of need to get myself a harmonica first.

Go, Castro!

Pictures gathered from www.americanidol.com

2008-03-15T19:50:00.005+07:00

This past couple of days, the weather has been totally out of control. (But hey, is there anything that you can really put under control in Jakarta?? *sigh*) Some days it was baking and balmy, but a couple of hours later it would rain and rain and rain. The weather is like nothing on earth.

Like yesterday. Mas Giri, Kiki and I were about to head home when the rain showered the city like a madness. It was so messy. And so very not cute. We waited while hoping the rain would cool down a bit.

My two male companions lit a cigarette or two and I took a picture or two. Bored and tired and unkempt on late Friday night, we decided we would brave the heavy rain shower and called it a day.

I was armed with the GINORMOUSEST umbrella they could find in the room, while Kiki was all geared up with a broken purple umbrella that he secretly acquired from me. And it’s actually a broken one. Hee.

Mas Giri was convinced that he would safely walked through the rain dry in his water-proof anti-rain power suit. A minute later he sported this look that tickled my laugh nerve in an instant moment. I chuckled and chuckled unstoppably.

He then gave me this death look and muttered, “What’s so funny about it? People in London do it all the time”. Oh yeah, except that the people in London don’t look like they’re auditioning for a role in the all new season of the Mighty Morph Power Rangers. *still can’t stop chuckling*

2008-03-14T19:35:00.004+07:00

Confession: I’ve been so into GIF animation lately. If you scroll down a few posts below, you will find the first GIF animation I made on a bowling-night-out scene some weeks ago.

On my every out-and-about experience, even on a regular work day, I always have my camera with me, rattling on the bottom of my bag with my other stuff (i.e. ChuppaChup plastic wrapper, shopping bills from three months ago, unused tissues, crumbled leaflets, a strip of Xylitol chewing gum, purse, MP3 player, handphone and a plethora of other mysterious random stuff) so that I’m prepared to snap away at any impromptu Kodak moment.

When taking pictures, I always take multiple frames in a single press of the button so that later I can just single out the ones with best quality (which costs me a whopping share of my shrinking hardisk space).

And then one night, suddenly I found myself meticulously putting the serial pictures together into a GIF animation and laughed quietly at them in the middle of the night. And I couldn’t break my new hobby since.

So, this is Mas Giri. He is charming and omnipotent and set ready to take on the world and he’s smirking.

And this is Yopin, working his breathtakingly shaped belly. Second thought, it’s a bit disgusting, actually. (Keep working on it, sport.)

I took these pictures of Yopin some three years ago (note the date on the bottom of the pictures). I’ve always wanted to make these pics into a GIF animation but didn’t know how to do it then. Now that I do, I flicked through my old files again and brought them up from the underworld realm of my hardisk. The result looks a bit odd somehow, but I know it can give you guys a little smile for this weekend.

Oh, this thing is so addicting. Well, have a nice weekend, y’all!
-----------------------------

ps. Mas Giri and Yopin, I hope it's cool that I post your pics. Peace and out.

2008-03-09T19:26:00.004+07:00

I’ve been collecting cute little accessories since 4 years ago. My very first accessories I bought was a pair of earrings for Rp 30.000,00 (the ones on the far right). They are so puuuuurrrty and I just love the feel of them dangling down my ear lobes. Makes me glow alright. (And stop that weird look on your face. I know it.) And there are so many of them: the colors, the models, the materials, from the head all the way down to the toe.

BUT. I’m allergic to non-gold materials, especially if they are made into earrings and necklaces. After a day long wearing them, I’ll start to get really, really itchy on the skin area where the jewelry is attached to and it will swollen up for days. Even weeks. Eek!

That is why I only wear them very few times a year, on very special occasions, and each time in a very few short hours.

Damn shame, they all are so cute.

Unless suddenly somebody breaks the news for me that I’m in possession of a life-time trust fund so that I can buy all the gold jewelry I want to buy, perhaps I have to hold on to the gold earrings my mother gave me since I was a baby. *grin*

2008-03-08T22:20:00.003+07:00

We went to Plaza Indonesia today with a to-do list on our hands. Well, more like, on my hand, actually. Hee..

Fix my shoes’ heels. Check.
A book. Check.
A sweater. Check.

And then his turn.

Food. Check.
Muffins. Check.
Food again. Check.

And then we headed home. And that’s it. End of post. Thanks for stopping by.

------------------------------------------------------

Noooo, it’s not the end of today’s post. Let me tell you this one mind-bogglingly silly thing that happened at Stop ‘n Go, the place where I had my shoes’ heels fixed.

There was her, a thirty-something primped lady queuing before me. She had this gooorrrrgeous pair of Stuart Weitzman shoes (ahh..) adorned with blings on their golden straps. She handed them to the shop attendants to fix to order. She wanted the straps fixed or glued or sewn or tightened or something.

Instead, the shop attendants gave the lady a pair of thin shoe pads to put inside the shoes. Which looked like working well to the shoes. (And when she tried on the feel of her newly stuffed shoes, I took a glance of her uber cool red Tod’s ballet flats she was wearing. Man! Some people do walk around the malls with bottomless bank account.) Not long afterwards, she nodded in agreement to the shop attendant's idea on the shoe pads.

While my mouth is still drooling over the fortune that I could probably afford to buy sometime in my next life by the time I’m 187 yrs old, I heard she BARGAINED the pads. My jaw dropped in utter disbelief. The pads were like a friggin cheapo of Rp 15.000,00 a pair and she bargained it?? She was willing to spend, most probably like, millions of rupiah, on the shoes and she found it hard to spend Rp 15.000,00 that, most likely, could not buy her dinner that night? And she owns a pair of Stuart Weitzman and a pair of Tod’s and heaven knows what other to-die-for shoes she has in her closet as her possession! It doesn’t make the slightest sense to me! I was so furious I wanted to just stomp the Stuart Weitzman to her already!

Now the post really ends. Ugh.

2008-03-07T13:13:00.005+07:00

Our relationship, mischievous boyfriend and mine, will hit the number 3 (or so) by next month. Why I said “or so”, it’s because neither him nor I remember when we actually started dating. It was around April, so we decided that we would celebrate our anniversary THROUGHOUT April. We're a couple of madness.

What I’ve been learning this past three years being with him, is the fact that his world and my world are on two different ends of a bar. In every respect, you name it.

He joined the Mathematics AND Physics Olympics competition and I joined school theatre.
He’s into computer gaming, while I LOATHE it.
He LOVES statistics and I …, ah well, you know me.
He can stay up until 5 am and wake up at 10 am the next morning without the slightest feeling of guilt, while I just can’t bear it.
He HATES fast food, while I WORSHIP it.
He’s a save-deposit box of secrets of everything, while I’m a tattletale. No, I’m a storyteller. Yeah.
He’s a homey person, while I’m an avid traveler.
He loves cooking and I just CAN’T STAND it.
He’s calm and serene by nature, while I’m always in the middle of wild outburst of hysteria and panic.
He’s the most logical and commonsensical person I know, while I’m the most emotional person I know.

But. I’m in love with every bit of difference and uniqueness there is in us. I feel so much blessed and richer. And we’ve been learning about so many new things from each other (tantrums and bolts of lightning included). And as time goes by, we’re influencing each other and all of the sudden we realize that we’re not the same people as we were some three years ago.

And oh yeah, after all, we are not that different. We share our devotion to tea and take pleasure in our newly discovered shared enjoyment, lounging.

2008-03-06T20:33:00.001+07:00

Indeed. I started this week with no urgency to seize Monday, as I always planned to do since day 1 of my working here some 3 years ago. Despite the fact that I’m fantastically chocked full with works. Thank the god of weekends, the working days are over. For the week.

It seems to me that the more weeks coming in 2008, the more utterly bizarre the assignments that I’ve got to nail down. They’ve got me bogged down alright.

Anyhow, I think I’ll just drop all those binders and folders with paper works off at my office desk and save some unfinished business for me to finish and keep me disturbed and feeling down the entire next week.

2008-02-12T18:23:00.005+07:00

One of my friends', and sometimes mine also, favourite pastime on the weekend is going out for a game or two of bowling. And we always do it at night. For no obvious reason. Perhaps we'll get burnt in daylight. And turned into ashes. Or maybe we just wake up at 1 pm, that's why it is.

So, here is a few snapshots from Sunday night's game.

This is Ando, our winner for the game that night. He gunned down most of the pins clean and made his victory. And he did a small kick. Or something that looks like it. But this time, he left one pin up on the other end. "No no no why is that one pin doing standing over there", he ouch'd. And then he did the kick.

And when you're able to make a clean sweep, you must do the cool walk. You may want to scream and flip and faint (I would), but doing the cool walk is definitely a common choice for most of the people who sweep the pins clean down the alley...

... especially if you do the hit with such an... inventive personal style. For example, a chicken-chasing style. An absolute championing style. Then you come back to your chair doing the cool walk. Or something that looks like it.

First Book in 2008

2008-02-09T11:45:00.000+07:00

“I’ve struggled long and hard before writing this, before accepting how unhappy and dissatisfied I am—I needed and I still need to hold out for a few more weeks.

But I cannot simply do nothing, pretend that everything is normal, that it’s just a stage, a phase of my life. I want to forget it, I need to love—that’s all, I need to love.

Life is too short, or too long, for me to allow myself the luxury of living it so badly”

-Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes, p. 206-
-------------------------------------

Reading at least one book per month is one of my resolutions in 2008, along with the hot chocolate inspection project that I started a couple of days ago and some other resolutions that I’ve already vowed for 2008.

Being a long aficionado of Paulo Coelho's works, I made “Eleven Minutes” the first book that I finished reading this year. Not exactly done according to the plan—I missed January—but, hey, at least I’m done with my first book.

The book centers on Maria, an intellectual Brazilian prostitute, in her life-searching and conundrum that she gradually untangles by discovering “the sacred nature of sex”. I didn’t say it. It’s all Mr. Coelho’s.

I must say that I’m a tad stupefied by how bluntly Coelho wrote about men & women sexuality, about its mysteries and relations to the purpose of life. There were times that I found myself reading in awe, yet blushing at the same time, feeling awkward to finish some of the most, well, out-of-the-ordinary passages in the book. And there were gulps down the throat every now and then. Haha. I’m a rotten 27 yrs old and I’m such a nincompoop.

Wading through the book, there were moments that you feel like you can put yourself in Maria’s shoes, in all of her sadness, restlessness and confusing relationship she has with sex and love that causes her so much angst in her young life. You’ll nervously flip pages after pages, trailing how Maria’s searching will end up: whether she will finally be together with Ralf Hart, or go back to her home country, or buy the farm of her dream, or whether her life will come full circle, or not.

Thoughtfully crafted, brilliantly spun. Well done, Mr. Coelho.

Guess where I'll be flying to the week after the next?

2008-02-08T13:29:00.000+07:00

Just the thought of flying alone makes me tired and sleepy and missing my bed already. My suitcase is still all warm from the last flight and even the luggage tag is still attached to it.

At first, I had no problem whatsoever with flying. But lately, just thinking about flying makes my hands turn cold, my armpits sweat and makes me want to curl under my blanket and stay there forever sucking my thumb.

Which make me come to the point of rethinking the whole idea of my current job. Am I cut out for this job? Am I? For what I know for sure, it requires a hell lot of traveling and hauling suitcases around airports.

I don't want to complaint so much. But this work is getting crazier lately.

So, help?

Premiered Last Night: Chocolaty Inspection Project

2008-02-07T12:40:00.000+07:00

January has passed and I haven’t started my hot chocolate project yet. For some thousands of you my loyal readership of this blog, … uhm, okay, tens of you, you probably already knew my long fatty affection, cholesterolly affairs with hot chocolate drink. I could walk home from my office with my eyes all crossed and my hair frizzed out asymmetrically like a hurricane just ran over me, and I’d have a cup of really nice hot chocolaty and I’m a brand new woman like never before. Hallelujah, sista. Amen.

My very first encounter with this heavenly drink was at a side-walk café in City, Canberra. Before that, I was a 101% tea person. My mother, the Mistress of the Seven Seas Tea and the Guardian of the Tea Plantation van Java and des Indes, made me so. If she could, she would make tea and tea only as our daily staple. Nonetheless, should something edible named a staple, I believe it should be the quintessential Black Pepper Burger package from the Burger King. Yum. *tongue sticking outward, mouth dripping with saliva*

Back to business, I made myself starting the hot chocolaty project last night.

The premiere cup on this project is the Hot Chocolate a la Café Pisa in Menteng, Jakarta. According to what is written on the menu, the drink is made of Italian chocolate block. Boy, is Italy sure a very far far away country to import chocolate bars from.

The drink is served in a white coffee cup placed on a matching saucer. As you stir it, it feels thick on the spoon. And there is the melting remaining chocolate on the bottom of the cup sticking to the spoon. As it starts getting colder, an oily-like foam is forming on top of the hot choc. It tastes like soft grain of chocolate powder melting in your mouth. Not too sweet, and there’s also a hint of bitter.

All in all, it’s nice. Although it’s still yet topped my list, but enough to reposition my recently crossed eyes as the result from 5 straight hours starring at the computer monitor. Or was it the computer monitor that was starring at me? Or were we starring at each other? I don’t know. Let’s forget I ever ask that.

An In-depth Mischievous Interview

2008-02-06T10:12:00.000+07:00

One of my main tasks at the office is transcribing my boss’ speech or interview. I’ve made copious and copious sheets of transcription that I have just enough with it. I’ve been thinking, lately, about making my own fun interview with people around me that I meet daily and transcribe the interview myself.

So here goes my first attempt. I finally make use of my MP3 player that (they say) also works as a voice recorder. And it works! It was a lot of fun and I consider of making this kind of question-and-answer session as a regular feature in my blog.

So, here is my very first interview with my mischievous boyfriend that I did last night.

Just read and fill (or waste) your next 5 minutes in life with heartfelt joy and youthful exuberance. It is a remedy for your sore spirit. The salve for your irritated eyes. The spring for your dehydrated soul. The healing balm for your writhing, aching bone. That is more like the plucker of your eyeballs. Enjoy. With a bar of Milo.

Hi, Honey.
Hello.

Thank you for having this interview with me.
No prob.

First of all, how would you like to be interviewed? In Bahasa Indonesia or English?
(Bahasa) Jawa

Come on, Honey, be cooperative with me.
Okay. Bahasa Indonesia.

Come on, Honey, be cooperative with me. The blog is in English. Besides, being interviewed in English does make you feel like a rock star. Or an Executive Director of something important. Or just like being interviewed.
Alright. English.

Alrighty. Here it goes. When you were a kid, did you want to be whoever you are now?
No.

So, what would you like to be when you were a kid?
An engineer.

What kind of engineer?
Heavy machinery engineer.

Like a choo-choo train machinery engineer?
Yes.

Nice. And if you’re not doing whatever you’re doing now, what would you possibly be doing?
Probably sleeping.

I’m sorry. I mean in terms of job.
Oh, okay. I would probably be working in an IT-related business. Or becoming a gamer.

Becoming an IT guy? Or a GAMER? Honey!
Yep. IT guy. But becoming a gamer was my childhood dream. Look at me. I’m playing a computer game while you’re interviewing me.

Yeah, I can see that. Can we move on to the next quessie, please?
Yep.

In the scale of 1 to 10, how much did you like me the first time we met?
A five.

ONLY A FIVE?
Yeah. I think it was a 50-50 passion.

Whatever. But IT WAS ONLY A FIVE IN A 1 TO 10 SCALE??
I think so.

I’m not listening to it. *interviewer covers her ears and hums*
Hello? Hello?

Okay. What is your favorite colour?
Damn..!

S’cuse me? Damn?
Sorry, just missed a goal, Honey. (Interviewee was playing Football Manager)

Oh, well. I’m sorry.
Nah. Things happen.

Again. What is your favourite colour?
Blue.

What is your favourite food?
Rujak Cingur.

What are your favourite TV shows?
Wok With Yan.

What kind of TV show is “Wok With Yan”?
It’s a show of a Chinese man with an amazing cooking ability.

Does it have anything to do with … Never mind.
What? With my current job? I think so.

How is that?
Yes. Because, I think, every diplomat should know how to cook, how to prepare processed food in such a way it looks delicious enough to eat.

Honey, are you mocking me here?
Yep. I mean, nope. *chuckle*

I think I’m going to hate you for 10 seconds starting from now. *10 seconds passed* Okay. Next quessie. Football or futsal?
Futsal.

Why?
Because in futsal we also have football. Futsal means football salah (“incorrect”), right?

Oh yeah? I didn’t know that. It’s getting fuzzy and I’m lost. Help?
*no response. Eyes glued to the monitor screen. Almost missed a goal. Again.*

Do you smoke?
Yes.

But have you ever smoked pot?
Nope.

Ever tried drugs of any kind?
What kind of drugs?

Illegal ones.
Does Neozep Forte count?

No. Next quessie. What is your saddest moment in life?
When I fail in doing something that I know I can do well.

Any specific moment?
No. Because I can always forgive myself.

Awwww. If you could go away for a two-week vacation, where would you go?
Home.

For two-week long?
Yeah.

Wow. Alright. One last question. What if we’d never met?
Then we’ll meet at another time.

That sounds like a theory of some sort. Is it one of them?
It’s the Theory of Coincidence by Stephen Hawking. I think. If not by Stephen Kiki. *giggle*

Are you mocking me again, Honey?
No. It’s true. The theory. I can look up some online articles on the theory for you.

Are you attempting to get me lost in the interview so that I can wrap the interview up?
Well then, what if I say yes, and what if I say no?

Never mind.
Hello? Honey?

Gotcha. Thanks for the interview, anyway.
*Eyes glued to the monitor screen*

There goes our interview, done and transcribed by Yours Trully. Thanks for spending a good fuzzy 5 minutes with me. Tomorrow is the Chinese New Year and I’ll be having a day off from work. Yippy!

Groetjes,
Yours Trully, a.k.a. Future Barrack Obama Interviewer

------------------------------
EDITED TO ADD: Errata. Interviewer made a mistake. According to clarification made by the interviewee, futsal is not "football salah", instead it's supposed to be "fútbol sala" or indoor football. The mistake was likely due to a problem that's similar to a hearing-impaired health challenge of the interviewer, and the fact that the interviewer basically knows virtually nil about futsal (it would be a whole different story though if you ask the interviewer on, say, how to snap the zit off one's face in an instant click with Photoshop and make your face skin magically glows like a 14 year-old's). In hindsight, I sort of screwed up. A tad. A teensy-weensy minuscule diminutive microscopic unimportant bit. Wee. Hee.

Just Another Random Thing

2008-02-05T17:50:00.000+07:00

A short happy sms came to my inbox today. And it made me smiled.

It came from the owner of the mischievous smile.

It's not anything iloveyou-ish or darling-y, yet made my heart felt so light, as light as taro snacks floating the blue pepsi sea water, I could hop and hum and twirl till dusk comes down.

It's funny how a silly weeny thing can light up your day.

I've never had so much fun ..

2008-02-03T23:37:00.000+07:00

.. in taking pictures of shadows like this time before. And this flock is the most crazy, insane, autistic bunch, the best to have a photo session with! I just love, love, love these looney people! Btw, it's Kuta Beach and all we saw was darkness. So much for the Island of the Gods.

Anyhoo, enjoy these crazy shadows!

This b&w pic is my fave. It was originally a very dark picture. But when I saw it for the very first time on my camera LCD, I knew that with a bit of curving, leveling and contrasting it would make a rockin' classic picture.

That's me in the middle, unfolding my wings and the ever eau de armpit fragrant to the sea. And that's King Tuthankamun of Egypt on the far left. Really, crazy things do happen on the edge of vast seas during night time.

They lifted their arms to the air. It felt like the lives are all taken from their eyes forever and they started chanting, "Take.. me.. to.. your.. leadeeerrr.."

This particular picture is taken by pesky Tita and I just looove the light that comes out of it.

So there 'em go. It's 5 minutes to 12 at night now and I have to roll to bed before I turn into a pumpkin. I'm all exhausted and I need to catch my beauty sleep. 9 hours to go before I have to drag my ass to the office.

Yours trully,
The Shadow Catcher a.k.a. Rotten Pumpkin a.k.a. Jordan Knight's #1 fan a.k.a. Chincha Laura #1 fan a.k.a. Really-Need-to-Sleep

I really, really miss ..

2008-02-02T23:28:00.000+07:00

.. this blog, more than I thought I would.

For some time I thought that writing regularly was an easy peasy thing to do. What is the fuss of dropping a line or two. But really, when your hands are tied, then they're tied, baby. Tied as newly wedded husband and wife. Or a broken car to a tow car. Or a baby to his toes. Or like the Spice Girls. My hands were tied that way.

I miss all the freedom and the love that I have for this blog.

All the silliness, randomness tidbits of life I can publish on this blog.

Line by line that seems to be mine and mine alone.

(and narcistic pictures of mine and mine alone. muahahaha.)

And the feeling of contentedness that fills my heart for being able to share my stories with you. For being able to bring joy and a silly grin on your faces, as I am by you.

I miss it all.

Will be in Jakarta again. And leaving Bali. Until next destination.

2008-02-01T17:28:00.001+07:00

I'm going back tomorrow to the capital city from this trip of the few ones in this past few months. It's been quite a hard time for me. My emotion was bobbing up and down and I was stressed and quite at lost.

I've made myself hop from one plane to the other like Frank Abagnale Jr., packed and unpacked my suitcase, swiped one hotel door to the next as if it was something normal, or at least, I tried to digest the whole situation as if it was normal.

One night and another I would find myself stared blankly to my suitcase and I felt like it was mocking my unhappiness. My stiff back. My doubt. My weaknesses. My tears. And everything that I believe in life.

I dislike writing about my hard times. And boy am I glad that it will be over soon. But still I need to write this down so that I can appreciate more of my better times. They say that what doesn't kill you will makes you stronger.

But a pat on the back won't do it justice. What I would love to have at the moment is some peaceful time for my suitcase to have a a good nice rest. And for me to pick my toes without having to worry catching a plane.

Speaking of which. Rats. I'll be having a 1 pm flight to catch tomorrow afternoon and I still haven't got that silver ring I want SO. BAD. LY.

Still Hangin' Here

2008-01-07T21:22:00.000+07:00

It's a little bit over 10 pm now and I'm still on my office desk. Waitin' for the big day comin' tomorrow mornin'. It feels like waiting for Godot. Whoever or whatever Godot is.

------------------------------

I over-tweaked this picture while waiting for that Godot-y thing.

Oh yeah, I'm going there, yet again, to Bali, in a couple of weeks. Hrrmpphf. There's a nightmare that always flashes in my head everytime I recall the memory of the place all over again. And it's painful.

Big Empty Hollow in the City

2008-01-06T21:14:00.000+07:00

Sometimes I just wonder.

Why life in big cities is like this? Does it have to be like this? What if we wouldn’t play along with the rules? Would we be considered as a bunch of social outcast? Is there an unwritten rule on it? Who created the standard on it at the first place anyway?

It seems like there will always be one more night life to spend in the city. New dining establishment to explore. New movies to watch. Stuff to gossip. Sometimes I feel like a pair of horn is slowly growing on our heads. Sometimes I feel like we loose control over what to say or think. Sometimes I feel like we’re perplexed on how much is too much as the clock hands are ticking to the night.

What is so wrong with us people living in the city? We’re people with big empty hole in our hearts.

These question flew by my little head as I went out tonight with some friends, spending some serious cash within 6 hours, of which I was supposed to spend on the grocery list I’d made and the little white dress I’ve been eyeing on for quite a while. Man.

All because of “Distraction”, which was the title of the movie that I watched earlier, as well as that of the dining experience and a glass of hot chocolate I chomped and slurped less than one hour ago.

That’s life, I guess.

Friday Night Café, James, Justin and I

2008-01-05T14:19:00.000+07:00

That funny guy with the mischievous smile is out of town again. His younger sister is getting married today.

The most annoying part is that I cannot go there because of the ass hauling business in my office that will still be going on at least until next week and forever and kept me hostage here in the city. I’m a little bit upset about the whole situation, I must say.

Well, then last night, in the thank-God-it’s-Friday night, I brave the cold night alone to Café au Lait in Cikini. Going there alone did feel very awkward, since the many times I went there I was always part of this crazy herd of friends of mine. Or just alone with the owner of that mischievous smile.

So there I was, planted on my seat, ordering a glass of hot chocolate, wearing my backless red evening gown, seducing James McAvoy and Justin Timberlake, which, surprisingly enough, happened to be sitting next to me. We talked on and on and on about James’ latest movie “Atonement”, which is so sad and depressing that even Justin said that he’d spent a box of Kleenex watching it. As the night was getting older I let my hair down and we whooped the night up with Justin’s new groove “My Love”. We closed our night toasting our hot chocolates to the much celebrated lives of ours. Oh yeah.

Eek! * turntable stylus screeching on disk*

Wait. Justin, James, me, backless gown and hot chocolates?? Something is definitely positively definitely wrong with the formula!

Yes, the two chairs on my right and left were empty, and neither James nor Justin was there. And yes, you know me too well to pinpoint that common sense is not in my genetic make-up and sometimes it just flat-out scares me.

Now I sort of kinda somewhat miss that mischievous smile. It would buy everything that’s beyond common sense in me.

Ass Hauling Day

2008-01-04T18:15:00.000+07:00

My workplace will be having this big important thing in a few quick days. Yay.

Consequently, the office looks like a mad house these days. Chores and homeworks have the word “emergency” stamped on them and posts-it are showering the place like new year's confetti. Yay.

We have bouquets to order, catering to confirm, hundreds of people to call, invitations to send, documents to print in a sooner-than-as-soon-as-possible time manner that must be done by shadows in human shapes that dart around in a fantastic speed. Yay.

As a matter of fact, while putting my feet up on the table and typing this blog post and sipping my hot chocolate, I’m actually just that terrifically occupied and I need to finish whatever it is that occupies me. No, I'm not putting my feet up on the table nor sipping any hot chocolate. Man.

I try to keep in mind what the wise people out there always say: One blog post a day keeps the insanity away. Pretty much like that.

On the sunnier side, I’m particularly happy to find my flatties superbly comfie, especially with the amount of dashing around I do these last couple of days.

Well, long story short, it’s going to be our big ass hauling days for the next 4 days. Yay. So what would be helping today is, I guess, a tad more common sense and a little less hysteria from these people to tone the mad weather down, please.

These people need to relax a bit and have some meet-and-greet time with Alvin, Simon, and Theodore, the wacko chipmunks.

Big Screen Festivities

2008-01-03T12:29:00.000+07:00

How did you start your 2008 with?

Me, I started this year watching the movie that I’ve anticipated since a long time ago, Atonement. Such a sad, sad, SAD story. Your movie is so sad, James. I have no idea how sad and desperate one’s life would be should a story like that happen to one.

The movie experience was so frustrating to the point that I'd slowly crept under my blanket and sucked my thumb until the final credit title scrolled down.

So, my expert advice for you future spectators of Atonement, is that after you squeeze the tears out of your eyeballs, and the earwax out of your ears, and the snot out of your pointy/rounded/flat/Michael Jackson’s I’ll-Be-There-era/Bad-era/You-Are-Not-Alone-era nose, I suggest for you to start some physical and emotional remedy.

Firstly, it is all about putting pre-refrigerated cucumber slices atop of your swollen eye bags and getting James McAvoy out of your tired head.

Secondly, it is about slam-dunkin’ all those Kleenex into your rubbish bin, because clean environment can make you feel better instantly. Amen.

And thirdly, lastly, ultimately, top-notchedly, psychologically healing, hygienically guaranteed, dermatologically tested, and the blah-blah, and the blah-blah, .. where was I? .. oh yeah, the third suggestion.

Thirdly, it is the Chipmunks song!! I’m so in love with the three cute creatures and their me-I-want-a-hula-hoop tune and will definitely positively undoubtedly certainly unquestionably be hitting the cinema box when the movie reel is rolled.

I’ve seen a few part of the movies and .. bwahahaha.. I must warn you, you might want to consider reducing the amount of water you drink before you watch the movie, or get ready to pee yourself laughing.

Ahahaha.. I just can’t wait for the psycho chipmunks to come to town!

My 28 for 2008

2008-01-02T15:44:00.000+07:00

I'm starting the new year with something ambitious. I've never done this before, but as I write down each and every resolution, it shouts "excitement", that I know just close to impossible to do.

Especially if it's related to me. I mean, me doing all this stuff? Come on, you may as well tell a monkey to break html code.

And then I'll wake up morning after morning screaming because my 2008 resolutions are haunting me day by day.

But hey, I think I'll live with that. With a cup of hot chocolate and a bag of Lays with Nori sea weed flavour on my messy bed. And 24 hrs internet access. And fully charged cell phone. And his mischievous smile. And a shower of love from my mother. And a tray of her home made donuts.

So let's hit my list:

1. Blog everyday for a month
2. Read at least one book a month
3. Stop all the negative talking on other people
4. Call a long lost friend/friends
5. Redo my room
6. Print and frame photos for my mother’s house
7. Save some serious cash for a DSLR
8. Get another drivers license to replace my stolen one – must be done before end of year!
9. Go for regular physical exercise
10. Reduce my fast food consumption
11. Go seeing a music concert
12. Travel to areas in Indonesia on personal expenses
13. Buy or sew-to-order a really nice kebaya
14. Start a personal photography project
15. Go to Church on a more frequent basis
16. Organize my photos and print some of my favourites
17. Nail down black-and-white photography
18. Figure out CSS/html code
19. Save, save, save some of my earnings
20. Resist the urge to buy stacks of crappy DVDs and do something important with the money instead
21. Cook something edible which is not grabbed from the frozen food section
22. Have a plant and keep it alive throughout the whole year long
23. Find out the ultimate recipe of tempe mendoan
24. Pay my room rent on time each month
25. Finish reading “The Life of Pi” – after all these years
26. Make a review on all the best hot chocolate in town
27. Call my mother more often
28. Brave those fancy hairdresser places, at least once

-------------------------------
ps. Grrrmph. Way to go Trojan.

New Year Fireworks

2008-01-01T10:04:00.000+07:00

1. Happy New Year. May your 2008 loaded with all the jolliest, most hillarious, most cotton-candiest, most sugary, sweetest, wonderful things.

2. Lord bless my balcony. I could see all these fireworks from there.

3. Lord bless my eyes. Somehow the fireworks sign and the party-hat-and-trumpet sign seemed similar to my eyes. I took the first few photos using the wrong camera setting. Grrrrrrrrreat.

4. These fireworks look like Tina Turner's hair. Or not. (Lord bless Ms Turner's rocking soul.) Or it's just me. Well, whaddya expect. Just because it's new year and yadda-yadda-yadda doesn't mean that it's going to make me make sense and all.

5. I like you, Ms Turner. You're simply the best.

5. Enjoy my new year fireworks pictures.

Amen.

I Love, Love, Love These Shoes

2007-12-27T22:00:00.000+07:00

One (or two?) of the most wonderful treasure I'm blessed with this year. Helloooooooooooo, gorgeous!

Amen.

2007-12-26T21:38:00.000+07:00

My friend, Angga, and his (newly wedded) wife, Diah, tied the knot yesterday, on the 25th of December.

It was one of the sweetest, tears-drenching stories of all-time memorable wedding days I’ve ever known. And everytime I gave it a thought, my heart goes oooh-aaahing, and I would sip my tea and milk, and I though about it again, and this time I would be aaaww-ing and writing a blog post.

[Oh, did I mention that there is a great, great, grrrreat possibility, probability, presumability (I made that word up), that the lovely Diah could be a distant relative of mine? Well, I think my mother once told me about that, although after I rechecked the fact with her again, she tapped herself on the forehead and poked me on the butt and danced the chicken dance (Naah. She didn’t do the last two businesses, although it would be hilarious if she actually did that, wouldn’t it?) and said that she totally forgot that she’d ever mentioned anything about it. No worries, Mother, I still love ya. You’re my rock star. ;) ]

All in all, Angga and Diah, I wish you two lovebirds all the happiness in the world, a flock of wonderful and healthy kids, and many blessing in the coming years of your jolly ride in the marriage lane. Rock on!

The Long Last Mile: Report. From Bali. Day 15.

2007-12-15T15:00:00.000+07:00

The conference was supposed to end yesterday. But the last mile is indeed the hardest and the longest. So long it could take days to finish, especially if you are all wrecked and exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically.

Today's conference conclusion is a perfect depiction of "nerve-wrecking".

It was one of those goosebumps and high drama moments.

When the frustration was floating in the room.

When our President and the UN Secretary General were throwing their heart-moving call to a standing ovation.

When those guys from China asked "why" and Yvo de Boer stormed out the room in tears with utter disappointment.

When the American delegates were booed and jeered. Also when they finally went forward with the consensus with the rest of the world.

When the EU people finally voiced their support for that imperative proposal and Rachmat Witoelar stood up holding back his tears when the rest of the delegates rose from their hot seats to give a big warm applause to the moment.

When the "Bali Roadmap" was finally adopted by the jubilant and tired delegates.

All eyes were watching Bali. After a weeklong of frustrating deadlock, there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel. The Germany's environment minister, Sigmar Gabriel, joked that the "climate in the climate convention has changed."

And now planes are refueled, suitcases are packed up, hotel rooms are checked out and the Nusa Dua's sun is about to set. I feel a sense of shocking relief, the weepy pride and the hope swelling up everyone's throat, because tomorrow's earth will not be abandoned.

We shall wait and see.

---------------------------------

Hoo yeah. I'll be leaving this island by the end of the day. My plane is 3 hour delayed, but I'll live. Keeping in mind that planet Earth will live longer. So, I guess I'll be just alrite with my delayed schedule.

As 2007 Comes to An End ...

2007-12-14T22:05:00.000+07:00

Where did you begin 2007?
~ In Jakarta
What was your status on Valentine's Day?
~ In a somewhat strange, disturbed, yet blissful relationship.
Were you in school (anytime this year)?
~ Nope. Lordie! *shudder*
How did you earn your money?
~ Work, baby, work. And the SPJs and all.
Did you have to go to the hospital?
~ Yes, I did. But it wasn't me. My boyfriend was really sick and feverish and he looked so helpless yet so cute.
Did you have any encounters with the police?
~ Unfortunately yes. I lost my wallet twice this year. Gee, thanks for reminding me of this.
Where did you go on vacation?
~ Bali (on a working trip) and back home in Solo.
What did you purchase that was over $1000?
~ None whatsoever this year. I think I'd faint should I see the number scribbled on my bank account book this year. And I'd faint gladly. Yes, please.
Did you know anybody who got married?
~ Oh, yeah. This year's marriage rate is like crude-oil price in 2007: it skyrocketed so unpredictably high and affects other stuff' prices in an instant moment.
Did you know anybody who passed away?
~ Yes. Sadly.
Did you move anywhere?
~ To another unit. *sigh* Although I sort of thought that moving to another planet might do better for my regular psychological check-up. And my cerebral one. And my dental one. And my urinal one. And, you know, that. No? Neither do I.
What concerts/shows did you go to?
~ None.
Are you registered to vote?
~ Nope.
Who did you want to win Big Brother?
~ Umm.. Let's see. I'll think about it for a sec. I can, can't I? Umm. What's "Big Brother" anyway?
Where do you live now?
~ Jakarta
Describe your birthday?
~ Huge bouquet of pink flowers. From him. *blushing*
What's one thing you thought you'd never do but did in 2007?
~ Blogging and photographing and photoshopping regularly from one day to the next. It sounds easy peasy. But. It's. Just. Not. And I'm pretty proud of what I came up with these days. Although most of them are just craps. -- Oh, and I never thought that I'd be answering questions like these.
What has been your favorite moment?
~ When I'm taking pictures. Although most of them are blurry. And dark. And abstract. And blurry. I did say that I took lots of blurry pictures, didn't I?
What's something you learned about yourself? About friends?
~ That I'm a lot stronger than I thought I was. And that I'm such a big-timed sucker for Photoshop.
Any new additions to your family?
~ Nog niet. (That's Dutch for "not yet", in case you don't understand. That's the only phrase I remember from the two Mevrouwen's class two years ago. Beside "tjonge jonge", which means "you pathetic turkey, you".)
What was your worst month?
~ October, maybe? Because I only posted very few posts. So there'd got to be something along the month, but I can't remember what it was. I think I'll check my PDA now. Oh, but I have to buy one first.
What music will you remember 2007 by?
~ This and that. Nothing special. (Does "Step by Step" from New Kids on the Block count?)
Who has been your best drinking buddy?
~ The mischievous boyfriend.
Made new friends?
~ Ah, yes. A few. One of them is Adobe Photoshop CS2. And Indra (Hai, Ndra!). And Endah (Hello, Ndah!). And Ayu Murti (Hola!). And some other cool new friends.
New best friend?
~ Adobe Photoshop CS2! And soon CS3!
Where will 2007 end for you?
~ Don't know yet. I hope I'll end up at a very good place. As where I hope you'll be at, too.

PS. I copied these quessies from a post in the Bulletin Board in Friendster. And ho boy, is it tiresome answering all these questions. I'm completely exhausted and I think I'll turn my computer off in a minute and crash to bed. And I'll wash my teeth. And brush my face. (I think I just screwed up my activity order, but I'm too drowsy to hit the backspace button). And then I'll drink my chill pill. And faint.

Today's Inconvenient Truth

2007-12-13T23:33:00.000+07:00

Al Gore was coming to town.

Dita and I left our troop headquarter this afternoon and darted our asses off to the very venue of the distinguished conference of climate change as soon as we found the information out.

The 13 days of getting stranded in this island have finally paid off.

I sat along with Dita and hundreds or maybe thousands (okay, I was probably exaggerating it, and I like doing it, but I can get very giddy and hyperactive in times like this) of delegates, journalists, government officials, non governmental organisation representatives, related company representatives (and stranded tourists?? Hehe. I don't think so, due to the "no ID, security officer no likey" policy there.) and Emil Salim, Rachmat Witoelar, and this year's Nobel Peace Prize co-winners: Al Gore and Inter-governmental Panel on Climate Change's Rajendra Pachauri.

Awesome is a way too modest to describe the atmosphere in the room.

I think the guy really deserves the Academy Award and the Nobel Peace Prize and all the glare of publicity he gets these days. He stands for all of the definition of "eloquent", "well-informed" and "passion". He flew all the way from Oslo, Sweden from the Nobel awarding ceremony to Nusa Dua-Bali, to share with the rest of the world through Bali, all facts and thoughts that he has gathered on the climate change issue and everything in between.

The next thing I knew everybody was giving him a standing round applause and the room was showered with camera flashes, making the room brighter than supernova.

I'm probably exaggerating it (again) but I was surely stunned. I was eyeballing my friend Dita, as my jaw dropped at the whole scene.

I also noticed that the plethora of limelights above the podium where he was standing at were a sweat-inducing, calorie-burning hell for Mr. Gore, that when he finished the whole speech 45 minutes later, he was all drenched in sweat. Sweet goodie.

Another thing that I still remember from his speech -- and I hope that others will also, too -- is his last punchline on his expectation for the future global path-making efforts in dealing with the climate change issue, that "political will is a renewable resource". Beautiful.

I had this really stiffy goosebump because the speech was 10.000 times so much better than those in "Commander in Chief" or "The West Wing" or those in my speech writing classes. (Ahahahahah.)

I do hope that his optimism will spread out to the corners of the world, starting from that room.

So, enjoy my showed-off pictures. Sorry about the blurs. I forgot to take my chill pill.

Here is Mr. Gore shaking hands with Dr. Pachauri. Congratulations, Sirs. Hello, my name is Esti and I think you two guys rock.

That's Prof. Emil Salim on the far right. He has a funny, yet warm smile. I like him.

Hello. That's the largest flock of shutterbugs and cameramen I've ever seen with my own four eyes (bwahahahah.. ugly pun intended).

And hello! Who are you, again? But I like the dude too alrite.

I've given up and sorry that it didn't work out.

2007-12-12T16:57:00.000+07:00

A weird (I think) thing happened to the Yahoo! Mail system today and I could do nothing but laugh out loud.

-------------------------------
Here is notification #1:

Can't talk now. System's down.

Sorry for the holdup. Looks like a temporary glitch in our network has part of Yahoo! mail down, so you're briefly without service. Rest assured the alarms are blaring in the basement and our team is working frantically to get you up and running ASAP. Again, the snag is on our end — so there's no need for you to do a thing.

Back to it,

Yahoo! Mail Team
-------------------------------

And here is notification #2:

Hi. This is the qmail-send program at yahoo.com. I'm afraid I wasn't able to deliver your message to the following addresses. This is a permanent error; I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out.

Yahoo! Mail Team
-------------------------------

Good thing is I like the way Yahoo! and other www companies create their notification in such a relaxed and laid back kind of way, and make it more personal rather than formal.

But on the more imaginative side, especially on the latter, it now ends up looking like a breaking-up note to me. Oh, and the "Sorry it didn't work out" part really tugs my heart string and makes me want to weep because it sounds so desperate despite all the efforts given.

Hang on strong, Chuck, hang on. Don't give up. Don't let her let you down mentally, physically, practically, psychologically, obstetrically, gynecologically, urinarily and intellectually. Show her the real man in you and I'll guarantee that she'll never look at you the same anymore. I mean in a good way, Chuck. (Oh dear, I'm not helping you at all, wasn't I?)

You'll live, Chuck. Just ignore those guys at Yahoo! Mail.

Report. From Bali. Day 11.

2007-12-11T21:51:00.000+07:00

I found this wee sand truck right with a small plastic bucket, parked under a palm tree on Kuta Beach. The truck looked abandoned. I didn't see any kid anywhere within the perimeter of this awesome colorful truck. Well.. *tapping fingers*

The truth is, I've always wanted to get myself a toy sand truck. With a small bucket and shovel, of course. Because all I got when I was a kid was my father's broken camera for me to crash it even worse. Well, my mother was too busy perfecting her doughnut recipe to buy me a kitchen set or a Barbie. So she got me heaps of beads for me to make necklaces and bracelets. Which would break apart in no time because I sucked big time at tying the knots of these precious jewelry of mine. So at the end of the day it was beads under the cushion, beads in my pockets, beads inside my father's broken camera film loader, beads adorning my mother's doughnuts, and with a bead-bead here and bead-bead there and here a bead there a bead, everywhere a bead-bead: our house was old MacDonald's bead farm.

[I was kidding with the beads atop my mother's doughnuts, but still, just imagine the damage I might have done! Which is pretty cool. (Too much sugar in my childhood diet?)]

Anyway.

How I wanted to steal the truck away and build a sand castle. Or a sand car. Or a sand jacuzzi. Or a sand burger. Or a sand statue of James McAvoy. But that would be a ridiculous project because I would've needed more tools than just a toy sand truck to make a James MacAvoy. Which is a great sand artist. Which is definitely not me. Besides, the truck is not even mine.

Oh, how I really need to drag my sorry butt out of this island. And soon would be nice, thank you.

Report. From Bali. Day 10.

2007-12-10T10:25:00.001+07:00

Back to work. I typed hundreds and hundreds of words that I never know if they have certain, if not important, meaning or would make difference to the world's problem whatsoever.

Not to mention the fact that I can get distracted easily.

The memory of yesterday's stroll to Kuta is haunting me and I can not concentrate on what I'm doing on this desk (more like, on this dinning table, actually).

I want to go back to the beach, just wearing a tee and shorts and my comfortable flip flop and with a bottle of Aqua and a really nice state of the art camera technology and getting some really nice tan and good pictures to go back home with.

Life is too good to pass with un-fun stuff. Especially in a place like Bali.

Report. From Bali. Day 9.

2007-12-09T21:40:00.000+07:00

We were having a blast today. strolling the city and the beach the whole day long. Without having to worry about work or catching a flight schedule.

And enjoying the mind blowing sunset. Finally. After all these years.

I feel so romantic. But the fact that my mischievous one is away at another beach far away in Makassar, felt like a bloop in the whole scene. Darn. I miss the silly guy.

So here is Dita, my ndutapimut companion, in a couple of frames I took along the beach.

Report. From Bali. Day 8.

2007-12-08T16:48:00.001+07:00

This is my friend, Dita, and I. We're "trapped" here in Bali since Dec 1, and haven't been able to free ourselves from piles of work.

I mean Bali and work? They do not make a good combination. It's just ironic.

While everyone was jumping in elation imagining that we're here in Bali at the end of the year for some flip-flop moment, beach-side cafes, and walking down the street of Kuta with a pair of hot sunny that scream "coolness", and savouring the sight of red-head six-packed surfers whom I don't even know whether they really know how to surf or not, and stroll out for some necklaces and bracelets made of mother-of-pearls, and maybe for some silver works, and a pair of silly flower print shorts, and thick layers of sunblocks with ridiculous SPF, and be a surfer chick for a day (or not), and...

Where was I? Oh, work. The truth is we barely see what's going on outside this hotel wall.

But God bless Google News and You Tube and cable TV. Amen.

So, if you'll excuse me, I still have tons of summary waiting to be done on the other window of my computer screen. *Gulp*

He took this picture while journeying to the land of the Great Wall a couple of weeks ago.

2007-11-27T19:00:00.000+07:00

The reasons why I post this picture:

1. The picture is awesome.
2. My mischievous one has stepped his feet up on the Wall.
3. (They say that) you can see the wall dotting the earth all the way from the moon.
4. The clock arms show it's 7.21 p.m on the dot now.
5. What I should've done now is darting back home.
6. But I don't know why I'm still here on my office desk doing the blogging.
7. I want to have a portion of Indomie with an egg benedict because I'm freakin' starving right now.
8. Can blogging redeem my hunger?
9. My friend, Angga's, confession today that he rarely read any post worth reading on my blog lately and demanded more words and less pictures, please.
10. They say that love is blog-shaped.
11. I love that shutter bug, my mischievous boyfriend.
12. I need to get my 9-7 shift done today. And some donuts will be nice, too, thank you.
13. Amen.
14. (ps. I write this line because I don't want to end my numbering on 13 because it's a bad number.)

A Night in Frames

2007-11-26T15:48:00.000+07:00

It's been quite a while since I hit the keys for some nonsense or a bunch of over-tweaked pictures of mine. So here are some of them. I took these blurry and bizarre pictures when we spent our boring nights in Cafe au Lait.

Here is my number one deli-freaky-licious distraction on my daily 9-5 routine.

I hit the cafe with this Casanov-ish friend of mine, Ando. Again. I've taken quite a lot of pictures with him in the frames. He now thinks that he's a superstar. He thinks that he's a superstar in his daily 9-5 routine. But his routine, especially during this month, is probably a 9-10 or maybe 9-12. I don't know. Mayday. Red alert. Mission abort. Mexico bun to hot kitchen. Over.

(I'm loving this speaking-in-code thing. Since my mother tongue is not English, it took me 1 year, 3 months, and 9 hours to figure what a 24/7-365 was. And then came a 9-5, and then came a 5-cents, and after that there was a 12.000 Rupiah, which is the amount of money that I owe to my friend at work for the sandwich she paid for me a few days ago).

Here is another friend of mine, Rino. He's goofy 24/7, in his 9-5 routine. And he's even goofier when the routine turns into a 9-11.

Here's my Hulk-ish pal, Aldi. This guy is so GINORMOUS he can single-handedly do the two-person rowing in the kayaking game in Timezone. I once swung on his arm, stretched to the door frame, and the man did not change an expression. It drove me nuts. He sports futsal and fitness when he's not doing his 9-11 routine, in the same spirit I sport my donuts and junk food.

Why is there another picture of this mischievous man again? Oh yeah, he's distracting alright. But I cannot not love this distraction. And oh, this is not a code to break.

Too many pictures already and my wittiness is killing me. Haha. I need to gnaw at more donuts. My 9-5 won't be over until the next 3,5 hours.

"Double choco chip donut to flatty tummy. We need to get this over and out."

A thought.

2007-11-21T17:00:00.000+07:00

Need to keep my feet back on the ground.

Random Things in My Life Lately

2007-11-15T16:30:00.000+07:00

- I rains quite a lot lately. I love it.

- Just found out that Agnes Monica and Dirly 'Idol' are now a couple. How could that be? (Dirly. Isn't that supposed to be "Dearly"? For once I thought the newspaper misspelled his name. But it was indeed a Dirly. But it's cool, though. I like him. Nice voice. Blame it to my half-bar Kit Kat leftover I ate this early morning. Did I say early? Because it was really early. Early.. Dearly.. Dirly.. Chocolate.. Mischievous boyfriend.. Never mind. Next time remind me to put more salads in my menu.)

- Are there actually uranium shipped to Indonesia of which ship is now docking in one of our sea ports? I don't know, man. It's kind of spooky to imagine that we actually have uranium on Indonesian soil. What I have in mind now is that we need to ship more Milo Bars to Indonesian soil.

- I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning. My early-wormedness has put a disruption on today's rhytm of mine.

- Confession: I always, I mean ALWAYS, fail to spell "rhythm" on my first, second, and third attempt to write the darn word down.

- A 13 year old young sinetron actress, Cinta Laura, in an interview I watched two days ago in a morning infotainment programme, on her ex-boyfriend, conveyed in English: "Well, he was my boyfriend, but he was not really my boyfriend." Doh. Poor girl. My friend at work, Dita, and I agree that she needs a brain volume enlargement surgery by dr. Eva. (That is what I call a hardcore cruelty, my girl.)

That's all, folk. Spastic in my middle name. Blame it all on my three-day-old half-bar Kit Kat leftover I ate this early morning.

Picture: taken a few months back, outside my boss' window.

My Comfort Foodie

2007-11-14T17:50:00.000+07:00

I found this picture, while perusing my "My Pictures" folder today.

The day I took this picture, I was so very sad, I felt like I could eat a horse. (Was it sadness or starvation, again? My new hair is derailing my train of thoughts.)

A friend at work, being a wonderful friend that she is, treated me with a slice of cheese-stuffed-crust meat lovers pizza from Pizza Hut to slightly redeem my sadness.

(But, I rarely know what I'm eating. So, who could've known if it was a meat lovers pizza or a dippin' strip pizza or that delectable, sin arousing pizza from Pizzeria il Vesuvio? But. I learned a lesson. I can now perceive the "Leave the gun. Take the cannoli" advice from the Godfather from a whole new perspective. That is: to leave the gun and take the good-life inducing pizza offered by your purrty friend while you're weeping over your enviable, glorious, luxurious life.)

She said with a big smile cast on her face, "Here's comfort foodie for you," offering the pizza that wound up filling up my eventually happy tummy. If being sad meant indulgence of such scrumptious comfort food, well, I thought being sad was not that baaaad then.

Another friend came by my desk, trying to take a bite from my comfort pizza. I took it away from him, while mouthing "No! It's my comfort foodie!", didn't want my boss sitting next to me to hear that I was in a need-comfort-food situation at the moment.

He said, "What??". I jotted down "comfort foodie, you fool, thief of my entire food and happiness" on a piece of green paper. But of course I didn't write the you-fool part, although I sort of wish I did. He walked away from me with a psychological analyzing look on his eyes that's left a dent on our now-to-eternity friendship. But I made up that part as well.

Anyhow, I know what you think of me right now. I know I'm such an easy chick when it comes to junk food. Just bring me any junk food, and I'll follow you enchanting the "take.. me.. to.. your.. leader.." thingy. *Gross.* I know.

All in all, comfort foodie is really a goodie.

Picture: taken sometime in November 2007, pizza on my polished antique teak-wood office desk. But I made up that office-desk part, too.

Need for Speed. Not.

2007-11-13T15:18:00.000+07:00

This post is about nothing. Except to write that I sort of miss the speeding racer stud in the picture. He's away now. Somewhere in the midst of cold air of Beijing.

See. This post is really about nothing.

Picture: Taken sometime in 2007, TIM.

Hair Trim

2007-11-12T21:50:00.000+07:00

I had my hair cut this evening. It's now no longer the same hair as it was a couple of hours ago. But, man. The bang is a COMPLETE DISASTER. I don't even have the gut to show my new hair cut on my blog.

My sense of spontaneity is the culprit to blame, really. Of all the days that my spontaneity can come up with its peculiarityness (is that even a word? see, I can't even think straight right now), it chose to show up this afternoon. Superb. The wrath of Monday's spontaneity.

I saw my new hair on the mirror. I wrinkled my nose and then I hit myself with a skillet. And then I took a picture of my new hair. But then I hit myself again with the same darn skillet on the head, because the picture was so darn horrendous.

Not only can I rub gallons of hair growing toner to my hair in the next coming months, I can drink 'em as well. You know, to make it grow faster. Or even grow differently. I don't care. As long as.. Well.. Yeah, I loathet my haireth that badeth.

So, from this day on, my number one must-be-brought gear is definitely a hair pin. I heart my hair pin. My one and only salvation to my bad hair day in the next 365 days or so. Or more. Or maybe like for-ever.

So, I hereby declare today that the world, the entire milky way, and the green house effect and that sleazy male hairdresser have conspired to plant this disaster to my hair permanently!

And I don't want him to touch my hair ever again, especially because I could see his sordid underpants peeking underneath his skinny jeans, leveled to my eyes, through out this evening's slaughtering session. Ewww.

And all I was asking is a nice trim, dang it!

I wholeheartedly hope, even just for once in my (not so) glorious life, I can find a decent, gay, male hairdresser that will be a blessing to my hair and redeeming the sins that the abundance previous hairdressers have done to my hair.

Amen.

Picture: taken on Nov 10, 2007, post Tita's wedding.

In the Darkness

2007-11-08T12:42:00.000+07:00

"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present."

~Francis Bacon, Sr.

Picture: Taken on Nov 7, 2007 during night time blackout, in the midst of an acute boredom.
Object: My lovely vanilla scented candle, seated on my bedside table.

A Little Dream

2007-11-06T23:47:00.000+07:00

"Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me"

~Dream a Little Dream of Me -- Louis Armstrong

It's one of my favourite moments in life. Sitting on a window seat, gazing out the window, listening to the sound of the whirring plane machine, and to my own solemn heart, as the sun is setting down.

At this level of atmosphere (stratosphere, pterodaptsphere, schirwitzenshmuckkeshenphere, who would've known anyway??) my soul always gets jittery yet contended all at the same time.

It seems that nothing bad can happen up there. And I'd dream that I'd fly by myself up high in the sky.

I'd dream that I'd fly away from all my weariness down here, and listen to nothing, except maybe to a couple of love bird (literally) on their thin-air-dating next to a Jakarta-Amsterdam-route KLM plane.

I'd dream that if only I could really fly, then I'd be at my mother's place in Solo in a snap of a finger, and hold her and tell her how much I've missed her.

Or to the nearest mall. Because where there's a mall, there's a Starbuck. I'd go there for a cup of hot chocolate. Or just to go to a Burger King. I'm lovestruck with the King. My tummy is all set up for his black pepper beefburger junkie.

Or maybe I'd speak out loud to God. Perhaps He would notice me better if I'd fly up closer to Him.

But. That's if I could fly. Such a sweet dream.

Picture: taken in 2007, can't remember the month, somewhere up East Java.