Lesbian writer is the meanest

Center of the Universe

2009-09-21T06:37:00.000+07:00

I’m always fascinated with the title of Kiran Desai’s book, The Inheritance of Loss.

Because that’s what we all inherit, loss. There is always something leaving us everyday. Can be a suddenly missing pen, or a scratched car, or a new thin line on our face, or a demise of a relationship.

Do I adopt nihilism now? On the very contrary. I think by the time we realize that eventually we will loose whatever we deem as precious, that consciousness will take you to another step of personal strength. First, we will not take for granted everything that we possess now, second, when they are eventually gone, you will be standing gracefully and bid elegant adieu, and third, you will waste no time and move on.

Aren’t we allowed to be sad? Yes we are allowed. Yet there are different ways to mourn. Will it be brief and constructive and serves as a reflective moment, or will it be prolonged and destructive and full of self pity?

Aren’t we allowed to be overjoyed over good things that coming our way? Of course we should be happy. Yet be happy in conscience. Rejoice for a moment, give thanks, then live life as usual.

So what to do after knowing this always definite inheritance of loss? Don’t grab too tight. Rule over your material possession, don’t be ruled by them. Rule over your feeling to people around you, don’t hang your happiness on their shoulders, they are not strong enough. When they stay, treasure them; when they leave, let go.

Only one thing you cannot afford to loose. Don’t loose yourself.

Never give 100% of your heart. Give half, give three quarter, but not everything.

Remember, the center of your universe is you.

On My Rare Skin Deep Moment

2009-08-23T09:28:00.000+07:00

They say, when there are five Lebanese girls walking down the streets, six of them are pretty. I agree hehehe. Lebanon is blessed with pretty women, in my personal opinion, one of the prettiest kinds. Their face profile is so well-defined, their skin tone is perfect, their eyes are dark and deep.

Only one country is blessed with beautiful women more than Lebanon. It’s Indonesia. Let me tell you why. The key factor here is variety, and variety is refreshing. Why don’t you spend one evening in a place where people are gathering, let’s say, here in Jakarta. Don’t go Bali, you may mistake the local with the tourists. Okay so now we’re in a mall in Jakarta. Look on your right, you will see a medium fair-skinned girl, lean, long black hair, soft face profile, dark brown eyes, small nose, it’s a lanky Sundanese girl. Look on the right, you will see a girl with a more defined face profile, stronger nose, deeper eyes, something middle-eastern-ish about her, she’s an Aceh girl with Arab descent. On the far right side you will see a girl, petite, yet her face is sculpted with sharp chin, perfect medium-sized lips, and piercing eyes telling you she’s in command, she’s a Padang girl with the bravery of her adventurous ancestors. Then you walk further, you bump into a girl with a heart-shaped face, small single eyelids eyes, small nose, her skin flawless resembles ancient princesses, so slim she walks featherweightly, she’s an Indonesian Chinese. Then what do you say, a girl is walking to your direction, your jaw drops a bit at her perfect jawbone, high nose, very light brown eyes, at her long legs and torso, she sweeps you with her Manado sassiness from mom and Dutch blood from dad. Well your treat continues, when you about to hop on an escalator, a girl with perfect smile lets you go first, her big dark sultry eyes shows kindness, her brown skin glows healthily, she moves gracefully as her grandma taught her how a Javanese girl with royal blood should carry herself. Then you’re going up the escalator, oh what do you see now, is it Beyonce, is it Rihanna, oh no she’s not, it’s indeed an Indonesian girl from Ambon, her dark skin so exotic, her lips full, her figure toned, she can easily be a hiphop darling if she ever tries a career in music.

“Then…” my friend confusedly asked me once, “if Indonesian girls are pretty, why you go to Singapore?”

Hahaha. I smiled to myself. Yeah, why is it?

In Search of a Perfect Person

2009-08-09T23:09:00.001+07:00

A few days ago I had lunch with my ex from high school, Sophia. She was once the sunshine of my life. It was childish, rather trial and error, a bit clumsy of a relationship, but I’m sure it was love. Yet after me, she never looked back. She went the mainstream and married a guy.

We had traditional chicken dishes, and since she was pregnant, she ate a lot. So funny seeing her eating passionately. She’s petite, with the bulging tummy it really made her looked cute.

“Sophia, what makes you marry Andy?” I asked.

“Why,” she laughed. “You mean that Andy is dark skinned, kind of short, and an Indonesian?”

Sophia lived in France for a while and developed a soft spot for French guys after that.

“Haha yes…” I chuckled.

“He is there, Nat. Andy is always there. I can be pretty with my best makeup on, I can be ugly fresh from a whole night sleep, I can be smart after coffee, I can be dumb over too much carbohydrate, I can be a sweetheart when my serotonin is in abundance, I can be a bitch when my period dries my estrogen, yet through it all, Andy is there. Yes he’s not French or tall or has a high-flying career at this moment, but he stays. Despite all he has the courage to marry me. Then here we are, married.” Sophia smiled at me, her light brown eyes were as pretty as I always remember. I smiled back at her.

“Nat,” she touched my hand, “when you are searching for a life partner, don’t search for a perfect person. A perfect person doesn’t need us. Choose someone who you know you can grow together with. Someone who, despite all, stays.”

Sophia was once the sunshine of my life. And that afternoon, she warmed my heart once again.

Being in the Moment

2009-05-16T21:35:00.000+07:00

My buddy Andrian has just had his birthday and I was looking for a present for him yesterday. He likes all those wacky funny books so I went to a bookstore to get one for him. But then I found a book on men’s grooming, and decided that it’s just the right book for him. Not because he needs a soft nudge on how to groom himself better, but this book is a guide for the very metrosexual. My plain meat and potato Andrian laughed when he received that book, but I intimidated him to use some of the tricks and he, as usual, agreed… hahaha…

But it’s not about him I’m going to write about. While I was buying the book for him, I found this book titled She Means Business: 7 New Rules for Marketing to Today’s Woman. I bought it and read it. It’s overall a pretty decent book on marketing, but there’s this one phrase that particularly gets into me. It said, women are always longing to be in the moment.

Sometimes it’s my hardest thing to do.

While watching tv today, I saw this presenter in HBO named Mohini, who reminds me of this friend which slipping away quietly, never told me what actually happened, and I was sad. While with my friends a couple days ago, we’re talking about this public figure who rumored to be abused by her husband, I remembered one of my ex and her piercing words, and I was sad. While waiting for my evening flight last week, I heard boarding announcement for passengers to Denpasar, and I remember some time ago of that kind of call at exactly the time of the day will be my calling for happiness, but it’s not anymore now, and I was sad.

The thing is, in my usual everyday day, I actually don’t really think about those events. But when it inadvertently slips into my mind again, whoosh, into time machine I’m back to the time it happened. The face, the words, the feeling, all fresh like it happens now. It’s so easy just to give up and soak myself in that feeling, sitting in the dark. But something always nudges me inside, reminds me to shake it off and live again in the moment. Back again to watch the show on tv. Back again to chat merrily with my friends. Back again waiting for my own boarding call.

How long does it take you to glance at the rear view mirror when driving? Not more that a second or two I guess. You can’t look at that mirror too long, otherwise you can’t see where you’re going ahead, and it can be fatal. That’s exactly what to do with lingering eventful past. When it slips into your mind, you can peek it for a second or two. But then always look front again immediately, otherwise you can’t see where you’re going now. Just be in the moment.

How to Deal with an Abusive Partner

2009-04-16T11:23:00.001+07:00

I wrote about this before. But it was insights from an observation: detached, logical, cold. This one is personal.

Trust the Small Voice in Your Heart
This is what you should do in the very first stage of a relationship. Most of us women are receptive with this. This little voice inside will whisper mostly when we’re confused and unsure. When you catch a flash of a strange abundant anger in her eyes. When your heart stops a beat on her cursing terribly on a tiny misfortune. When you involuntarily fidget on her story about her law-breaking uncle. Listen to the voice. Don’t undermine it, don’t shake it off. When she causes you discomfort, whatever small, think about it. If you feel like taking drastic measure, do. Leaving early can save you from a lot of unnecessary damage ahead.

Brace Yourself when It’s the Ugliest
It’s always deafening with abusers. It will be sickeningly intense. It will get ugly. Either she hits you physically or lashes you with verbal insults, she will overwhelm you. You will be cornered, you will be pushed to make mistakes. She will make you feel weak and stupid until you hate yourself when you’re with her. She will bombard you with unfair judgments until you involuntarily forced to admit it, just to stop her digging on you. All about her presence will give you goosebumps. You will feel the prickle of cold sweat in your pores. You will be scared of her. When it happens, just one thing to do: leave.

Just Pay It
Sometimes when you’re already away from her, this problem about money occurs. She may count on how much money she had spent for you and demand it back. She may want the Ipod back, in its box, in a pristine condition. She may want you to pay her back this plane ticket for a holiday she bought for you. When it happens, pay it. If you have the money, just pay it, pay it as soon as can be. Because if you cling to dear money and try to stand your ground, she will beat you senseless over this. And the thing about arguing about money, it’s disgusting. It can turn someone that seemed sweet to be plain scary. And trust me, when an abuser turns plain scary, you just don’t want to be there.

Get Busy
Here I bring you the biggest irony. She hurt you bad, you hurried leaving her, you felt relieved being away from her. But after some time, you might, oddly, miss her. Because more than often, abusers are outwardly charming. She can be drop dead gorgeous, she can be witty and funny, she can be a goddess in bed. Any of her traits that made you fell for her back then, will haunt you. You may want to fly back to her. When it happens, as cliché as it may sound, be sensible and don’t do it. Wait for some time when the urge to call her comes. Count to ten, a hundred, ten thousand, to infinity if it’s needed. Just don’t do it. Don’t. Don’t. DON’T. That feeling is fake. You don’t miss her, you miss being with someone. And she just happens to be your most recent reference. Just get yourself busy. Visit your family. Call your friends. Do your hobby. Hop on the treadmill. Immerse yourself in work. Anything, anything that distracts you from that fake longing feeling to be with your abuser again. You’re away from her now, and that’s the best.

Be Thankful of What You Have
Abusers can make you feel minuscule and meaningless. I tell you, no matter what she say or do makes you less of a great person you are. You’re the beloved daughter of your parents. You’re the life of the party among your friends. You’re the darling of the office, the most brilliant employee your boss thanking heaven everyday for. Or you are the boss herself. You may not be a Miss Universe, but your jawline is perfect, your eyes are sultry, your nose small but cute. Be thankful of what you have. See, all those ugly things she did to you don’t leave a mark. Maybe you're still sad of what happened, but you’re still the great person that you are, and you’re ready to:

Move On
Things happen. How bad it is, it’s over. That chapter of your life is over. After you learn from it, close it. See, you’re a better person now. Go soar, go shine.

Kyoto Jazz Massive

2008-11-30T10:47:00.000+07:00

In this world full of physical ideation, we’re often limiting ourselves from the amazing ability of our senses to capture the beauty of our surrounding. We think our eyes can only see beautiful faces. Our ears to hear nice music. Other than what our mind perceived as beautiful or nice, we reject them.

I should say now, pity us.

Here’s the story.

A couple days ago, I went to this annual jazz event in Jakarta. One of the performers is this group called Kyoto Jazz Massive. Honestly I’ve never heard of them before. I consider myself a big jazz fan, so I went to watch them play with the least expectation. At first, I saw a bunch of, traditionally, not attractive people. Skinny average-looking Japanese guys with instruments and two overweight black women vocalists. I thought, when you are in show business, you should be at least pleasant to eyes. So there I was, sitting lazily, felt uninspired. And then they played.

And now I’m in love.

Okino Shuya and Okino Yoshihiro, the leader of the band, magically blend electronica with the instrument flair of jazz musicians in virtuoso level. Vanessa Freeman and Tasita D’Amour, the vocalists, sung not only with their mouth, but with the exquisite vibration come from their entire body and soul. So original, so rich, so entertaining, so inspiring. They make many factory-made, mainstream performers grew by today’s popular culture look and sound so minuscule.

When you decide to look with your ears and listen with your eyes, you will understand this so much feeling that I have now. In love.

Scents

2008-11-15T09:12:00.003+07:00

I’m a scents girl. Just the right scent will turn even my lowest mood up high. These are:

The smell of a newly bought book. It’s musky, mysteriously a mix of many, a promise to the exciting adventure you will get reading it
The smell of my bedroom when I open its door in the evening, tired from a long day at the office. Its warmth hugs me, body and soul
The smell of roasted coffee. I don’t really drink coffee since my heartbeat overreacts when exposed to caffeine, but the earthy scent calms me
The smell of a freshly lit impregnated matches. The quickly vanishing smell from the chemical mix is strangely exciting for me
The scent of my girlfriend in bed, just waking up in the morning. Her faint soap perfume from shower last night mixed with the sheet smell and her original body scent, makes up to me what I want to call the smell of happiness.

How to Handle Vinyl or Leather Stains

2008-11-15T09:09:00.000+07:00

To all of you who have stuff with vinyl or leather finishing and get it stained, here’s some tips:

General stains
Blot a cotton ball with baby oil, then rub gently to the stained part. Dry with tissue paper

Ink stain
This is difficult to handle since the porous vinyl and leather absorb ink. Therefore, do this first aid immediately after the stain occurs. Blot a cotton ball with alcohol, then press it to the stained part. Leave for 30 minutes to one hour, maintain the pressure over the cotton ball, using heavy stuff like a dumbbell. After that, blot a cotton ball with acetic acid and wipe gently over the part. Repeat the steps if necessary. It may not be fully removing the stain, especially old and deep marks, but it can help to make it sheerer. It’s recommended that you try this on some tiny spots first before you apply to all the stains, see if it discolors your vinyl or leather, then you can decide which one you want to keep, the ink stain or the original color.

That’s how I maintain my ivory white car seats clean and shiny :)

Women United

2008-10-22T11:21:00.001+07:00

A couple days ago I went to this mall with two of my friends. We went to this middle-up brand store. The store was the free-standing one, not in a department store. The place was rather small. And it was so cramped because it was in sale. The sale scheme was:

· Buy 1 item, discount 10%
· Buy 2 items, discount 20%
· Buy 3 items, discount 30%

What happened then was interesting. All these women, stranger to each other, suddenly best friends. They passionately, lovingly chat with each other to gather up the items they want to buy so they would get the most discount.

What will happen in a world without men?
Fat happy ladies with nice 30% discounted bags.

In Sanskrit

2008-10-19T20:36:00.002+07:00

I just know the meaning of your name.

It means: Special.

You are to me.

My Surreal

2008-09-29T17:42:00.000+07:00

I always have these mixed feelings when traveling. Be it abroad or even domestic, since my country is huge. And all those feelings can be represented perfectly by one word. Surreal.

If you have the chance to see me in airports, you will see a smug, aloof, tired-looking girl. My body language will say “I just traveled a thousand miles too far, doing one important thing too many, now I’m tired, back off”. My gaze would shut a bunch of overexcited teen tourist up. I make it clear to everyone that even a journey to the moon will be nothing but ordinary to me. But what do you know, for each of the trip I’m nothing but fascinated, passionate, along that line until giddy. Or I’m unsure, confused about it, along that line until frightened.

And I think there are always some people who seem to be able to see through that veil I put on: against all odds, they engage conversations with me, we tell stories, we laugh. More than often, those people make my day.

I travel a lot. Yet it seems that I never really used to it. Each trip will always feel surreal to me. I will be fascinated, passionate, along that line until giddy. I will be unsure, confused about it, along that line until frightened. Yet I always manage to get to where I’m going.

I think it is all life is about.

Tips on How to be Prepared for Worst Case Scenario on Meeting a New Potential Partner Abroad

2008-09-08T14:29:00.003+07:00

Get in business class flights or above since you might need a consolable pampering flying back home broken hearted. Never do budget, it’s miserable and will make you even more miserable
Book a very decent hotel with fluffy pillow, nice pool, and awesome gym. Never have any below your standard since it can be your only sanctuary if she decides that you’re not a keep
Be informed on single-women-friendly places there, in case she decides to make a do on something else the whole time and you end up wandering the foreign soil alone
Friends are all you need, be it there or back at home. They can be the water in your arid foreign desert, the star in your foreign dark night sky, the sun in your foreign murky dawn
If everything turns to be real nasty and you end up being drama mama, crying extravagantly, exchanging hysterical foreign language shrieks to each other but then suddenly, you oddly feel like laughing because it’s so a black comedy, laugh away, it’s a comedy anyway
Last but not least: have backups. Get yourself one or two alternatives, so whenever this girl shuts on you, you can always bid her elegant adieu, turn to other welcoming doors, and the last thing she sees from you is your sexy butt sashaying away.

Happy traveling! :)

Time to Listen

2008-08-29T15:34:00.002+07:00

Nat: You know, I don’t have a good feeling about this…

Andrian: From my point of view is, even if the worst thing happen, you still can’t do anything about it. So I would say, relax, and don’t beat yourself over this.

Nat: Maybe it’s time for me to listen to what my heart says.

Andrian : It always brings good, listening to what your heart says.

Nat: Yea… all this time when what my heart says contradicted of what I desired most, I denied to listen, then I ended up not so much in a good shape…

Andrian : We all learn, baby Sis…

Nat: Yes we do. I am going to make this decision… I may bleed over this… stay with me for that while…

Andrian : You know I will.

Nat: *quick hug

Andrian: It will be okay…

On Religion and People

2008-08-22T14:29:00.000+07:00

I watched this TV series “Private Practice” last week. Actually I’m a little bit of a fan of this character Dr. Addison Montgomery in that series. She’s mature, sexy, high-achiever, and equipped with alluring eyes and a killing smile. I want one Dr. Addison Montgomery of my own! Hahaha…

But it’s not about that character I want to talk about. It’s about the storyline of this particular episode. It depicted a number of Catholic nuns who caught typhoid fever. Everyone was confused on who transferred that tropical disease to them, while none of them ever left America soil. It turned out that the parish Pastor who transfers it to one of them. At the first time I cringed, since I thought this would be another blasphemy on Catholicism by Hollywood. I braced myself and followed the story:

Pastor : I would sneak in at the night and we would…
Sam : You don’t have to say…
Pastor : I would sneak in at night and we would… cook
Naomi : Cook?
Pastor : I couldn’t boil water before she arrived, never had to. But then I would see her and she was just so graceful and smart. When anyone else was around, I would ask her for pointers. It’s been years now, we have never touched. I knew it was forbidden. She would be away on missions and was I just... A part of me was always waiting…
Sam : That the next time you can be together
Pastor : I missed my friend.

Oh. I smiled. This one is good. No blasphemy, just a smart twist around it. Actually a mocking on the usual blasphemy genre.

I never get it, blasphemies. Why people bother so much to undermine other people belief? If we are true believers, faithful practitioners of our religion, we will have no time to disgrace other religion. We will be busy minding our own business, racing to do each other good, since no religion teaches to do evil to your neighbors.

My message to blasphemers: mind your own business. Get a life.

Big Small Thing

2008-08-15T16:12:00.002+07:00

I don’t get acne. Pimples, zits, blemish, anything they’re called, I don’t get them. Therefore when recently one came, I was all flustered *running here and there, hands waving frantically over my head, shrieking hopelessly, kyaaaaa!!

Haha okay I’m exaggerating. But I was indeed panicked. Especially this one was the blackhead kind, it could easily be mistaken as a new mole. And I don’t want new mole. And it flared for days, painful when touched. I’ve heard that moles can turn dangerous when wounded. So I meticulously took care of it, involving antiseptics, band aids, and careful evasion around it when showering and doing my routine facial care. Plus days of staring intently to every mirror around, that zits/mole was definitely was put under microscope. Moreover, I had made an appointment to the most brilliant skin doctor in town, to have it most-advanced medically treated.

And then yesterday morning, it fell off, just like that… yaaayy! Wooohooo!! It was a zits anyway, not a mole. And it was cured completely. Haha imagine what the skin doctor says if I do see her… what easy money, I believe that what she would say while laughing under her breath.

Moral of this sort of unimportant story is: we tend to be afraid of things we don’t know. When we brave enough to face it, more than often it turns out to be manageable anyway. So let’s all be not afraid! :)

Bring It on! Or on Second Thought, Maybe Don’t…

2008-08-09T21:18:00.003+07:00

There’s this new girl. I think I like her. Hence the ritual: introduction rites, same-interest probing, searching for the common ground, adjusting my pace on hers, planning on future quality times, budget allocating, etc., all the usual stuff. Then comes the expectation, weighting on the response, counting on whether this is worthwhile or not, etc., all the usual stuff.

But then, a very short while later, I stop. I sit idly. Why this takes a toll on me? Why I feel so hard leaving my current all comfortable single life? The sweet delight of not caring, not wanting, not expecting anything. A burden-free and fresh mind. A steadily, leisurely beating heart.

My old me would say on top of my lung, “Bring it on! I will fight for this girl! No mountain high enough, no valley deep enough, no river wide enough!”

This current me will say, “Enough.”

I guess this person, my ‘the one’, just simply hasn’t come yet, or doesn’t realize that she actually is, yet. When it comes, I personally believe it will be easy, peaceful, and all comfortable for both of us. Meanwhile, I will again sit back, relax, not caring, not wanting, not expecting anything.

Ain’t life sweet…

Partial Amnesia

2008-08-07T21:08:00.004+07:00

Lately I’ve been in touch again with one of my ex.

Phone call #1 goes awkward in the beginning because we haven’t talked to each other in almost half a year. But then the ice breaks. We update each other on our lives, we laugh, we tell each other I miss you. Then afterward I wonder why I let her go, if talking to her is this much fun.

Phone call #2 goes even smoother. We begin to throw our own intimate jokes like when we were still together. We promise the next time we’re within vicinity of each other we will definitely meet up. I tell her that I wrote something about her in my blog and she promises she will take a look. Then afterward I even more wonder why I let her go, if talking to her is this much fun.

Phone call #3 was a drag. I ask her about the post on her in my blog and she doesn’t get it, she says. I ask what part, she says she doesn’t understand anything figurative. She says she is not savvy enough to neither comprehend nor appreciate my poetic, allegorical way of writing. I am sorry, she says.

Then afterward it suddenly I so crystal-clearly remember why I let her go. It was like we didn’t speak the same language. Many things that I appreciate dearly, she can never feel about the same way. Not of any ill intention, it just we differs a great deal of difference.

The thing that it happens quite frequent, this partial amnesia of mine. I tend to only remember the good things in life. The painful ones are often forgotten.

Well I don’t mind actually, this is one amnesia that I only be happy to keep :)

They Married

2008-08-03T09:04:00.000+07:00

Jaeden is 23 and Soleil is 22. One day both single and the next day they pronounced that they are married. Don’t think Amsterdam or Sydney, it was held in, brace yourself, Jakarta. The matrimony is by putting their hands together on a Bible and vowed to each other, and, voila, a lesbian marriage it is. At least to themselves.

Don’t get me wrong about the sarcasm. I am happy for them. Jaeden is my baby sister that I care a great deal of. I don’t really know Soleil yet but I’m sure she’s a great girl. They look so cute together. And the spirit to bring their relationship sacred instead of just being bed buddies does touch me, because so many people, even the older and consider themselves wiser ones, can never grown-up enough to do it.

It just that last night it came to me, my reasonable doubt. They had an argument on something, I should say, trivial. Almost too trivial to let your heart endure a painful faster beating from that negative emotion. They behaved like 22 year olds. But hey, they are 22 year old… I might do they same when I was 22, given the same situation. Along with the years after, I grew up mellower, from the ever elevated pain threshold. I know Jaeden, and I believe she will be too someday soon. Then I feel my reasonable doubt withers, knowing that they will work this out, that everything’s going to be just fine.

Jaeden and Soleil, you have my blessing. I wish you love, I wish you happiness, for today and for many many years of infinity.

Why I Give Up Fiction Books

2008-07-31T14:20:00.000+07:00

Simply because reality is often quirkier. Sometimes I even can’t believe that they are really happening.

Early in my life, I used to read a lot of romance, detective, and fantasy books. Now I have my own supplies of romance, detective, and fantasy stories right in front of my eyes!

Will keep them coming to this blog… behold! :)

Delicious Upshot of the Road Madness

2008-07-18T16:37:00.004+07:00

For all of you who are not familiar with Jakarta public transport system, I tell you, it’s crap. Buses are old and pickpocket haven. Trains are ugly and kill people. Taxi is the brighter side but make sure you pick the one most reliable, the others are joining buses and trains in the crap side. There’s also this one called Bajaj, a three-wheeler originally from India, a small, bright orange, obnoxiously loud road madness.

It’s been a while since I use any of them. And I don’t miss them, honestly. But yesterday I get my chance to do some reminiscence with one of those darlings, the bajaj. See, I went to one of my account office in a messy part of Jakarta. I put my car in the nearest shopping mall with the nice parking lot, saving it from possible scratches from that chaotic traffic in the area. I took a taxi to get there, but then I couldn’t find any on my way back. There were bajajs, so I took one. Bajaj fare is determined by a bargain between you and the driver. I’ve lost all my ability to bargain, so I said yes to his price. Then what do you know, it turned out to be a fun ride. My bajaj maneuvered agilely in between cars and buses and motorbikes and everything in the traffic. Took me ten minutes to the usual twenty minutes ride since it went to small lanes only fixed for bajajs that bigger vehicle can’t get through. And my biggest delight of the day: it passed through this famous traditional fragrant rice eatery I’ve been longing to go but never sure where it was. Hooray for that small, bright orange, obnoxiously loud road madness! :)

Ms. F Gets Me Through

2008-07-02T12:15:00.002+07:00

Let me describe you Ms. F. She’s in her early thirties. She’s lean and lanky. Cropped softly-highlighted hair. Strong yet cute nose. Soft jawline with cute, rather chubby naturally pink cheeks. Just the right tone and flawless fair-skinned, she reminds me of ancient Chinese princesses. She walks classily. She moves elegantly with chin slightly up, confident yet amiable.

It was a high profile, very tough summit. Months of work pressed into a three days workshop. Yet I feel like walking on an immensely beautiful flower bed. All because of Ms. F. She sat beside me all along, I could all the time had a close look on her cute, rather chubby naturally pink cheeks. Watched her walked classily and moved elegantly with chin slightly up, truly amiable.

Ms. F is now back to her office, me to mine. Only a slight possibility that we will see each other again. But that three days summit aka walking on an immensely beautiful flower bed with Ms. F reminiscence will always brings my lips and heart a smile.

Of Wanting Ms. T

2008-06-28T15:42:00.000+07:00

I’m sure there are moments in your life when you feel the solid ground under you slightly rickety. When you’re in an unfamiliar places, meeting new people, or doing things out of routine.

Well it’s not about the situation I want to talk about. It’s about who I want to be with, who I want to talk to, who I want to hold during that situation. It’s Ms. T.

They say when you think much about someone, somehow she will become aware of it. I wonder if Ms. T tickles now…

Glory of the SUV

2008-06-24T10:19:00.000+07:00

Early this year I got myself an SUV. My first high ground clearance car after oh so long. Always been into the comfy ride and the need for speed of sedans, eventually I am being practical, that this challenging Jakarta road tarmac is better be coped with an SUV.

And last weekend I was so grateful of my gas-guzzling ride. See, along the main streets of Jakarta there is this busway lane, a lane exclusively for buses. This lane is separated from the main lane by a ten centimeter concrete separator. And last weekend I was stuck in a light traffic jam. In my right there was this empty unused busway lane. Then what do you know, I fearlessly maneuvered my car crossed the separator into that empty busway lane, and speed my way along the traffic jam in my left. Hahahaha it feels sooo good…

Yeah unleash yourself sometimes! :)

Purified and Formed

2008-06-20T16:32:00.003+07:00

You do make mistakes. Grave ones sometimes. You swear on it, you cry on it. You feel foolish. You can’t believe you didn’t see it coming. Things you do in the tip of anger, when your logic is as intact as a schizophrenic’s. That after a nick of time you dearly regret it. Precious knowledge you blab to a suck-up, a fake, during a delirium of lust.

All good education comes in price. Comes in pricey. My three-year-ish in this company is a PhD in the education of life. Solid gold needs to be purified in fire. A prime katana needs to be formed in great force.

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." Kahlil Gibran

Blame It to the L Word

2008-05-26T11:37:00.000+07:00

Last weekend, one of my friends asked me to join her in this lesbian get-together in this on-and-off hangout place in one of Jakarta CBD area. I dropped by for only a short while since I had to go somewhere else later that night. And actually that short while was really all I need. See, I don’t really hang out with lesbian communities. My friends are close-knitted. Not out of the arrogant misdemeanor, it’s just that since I’m very in the closet, meeting tons of new people at once, that tons of new people suddenly know that I’m gay, really makes me giddy.

Back to the party. Long story short, the girls were swarming the place. I was amazed, this party was really successful, quantitywise. Then of course, naturally, my friends and I were scanning each of the participants. Then we got disappointed. All the blame to the L Word, since it poisoned us with the unlikely idea that lesbian parties should be packed with all this pretty, hip, fashionable gay women.

This saying “manage your expectation” is applicable every time, much to my dismay. Reality bites.

House of Cards

2008-05-18T15:52:00.001+07:00

I admire Lillian. A true genuine person who lives by choice. She’s one of the bravest people I know, a person who dare to let everything go for something that she loves best.

Many people might not understand. She gave up a designer office chair, a prominent job which brings a prominent status, an all-round comfortable life. She prefers to live near the beach, dedicates most of her time for the beaches she loves, hugs the life in one breath as the beach breathes.

I was drawn to her spirit, her persona. And I can say we were going the way there, to build a house for both our souls to be together. But then one little thing happened. That little thing was an intense conversation on our beliefs. Then what do you know, our house was a house of cards, and that card on belief was the one in the very base. When it was pulled out, there it went.

We’ve said goodbye to our house. But I will always admire Lillian. For her bravery, for daring to let go of everything for something that she knows she loves best.

A Tribute

2008-05-12T14:07:00.001+07:00

Nell is a great girl. She’s compassionate, soft spoken, merciful. Very generous, sometimes until the level of bleeding herself. She can love you more than you love yourself.

We spent some time together. Along the way, I only got all the best of her. She’s the right person, yet too bad, it was the wrong time. We didn’t share the same world. It’s like we spoke in two different languages.

I realize I haven’t thanked her properly for our time together, for her time, her love, and every tidbit sparkle of happiness we shared. Therefore this is a tribute to her.

Dear Nell, I wish you love, I wish you happiness. You deserve it.

The Bearable Lightness of Being

2008-05-09T15:51:00.001+07:00

In this very moment, I’m single. I mean really really single. No girlfriend, no unfinished business with an ex, no friend with benefit, no serious heartthrob.

In my earlier years, this would be the period of agony. Oh this emptiness, oh this hollow in my heart, oh this oh that. But then from that point, I experienced many things. Went a long way to hell and back. Crossed path with all these girls. Pretty girls, check. Not so pretty girls, check. Rich girl, check. Poor girl, check. Perfect-bodied girl, check. Curvaceous girl, check. High achiever girl, check. Sit-on-her-ass-everyday girl, check. Girl with attitude, check. Girl with attitude of a wild hyena, check. All in-betweens, check.

Maybe that’s why now I can sit back, relaxed, peering lazily to things passing by. Not that I’m stating that being single is better than committed, but I guess whatever relationship status you’re in now, make sure it’s something of your choice. As in my case now, I’m currently enjoying each and every minute of being not needed to please anyone beyond my level of comfort. It feels… airy. It feels light. My bearable lightness of being.

I realize I will not be in this state of life for good. I might be in a relationship tomorrow. I might be out of a relationship the day after. But no matter, I know I will be as grateful.

Along the way, sometimes all we need is a moment to have breaks. To kiss the flowers, to say hello to sunshine. Then we can set off again, all refreshed, prettier, and shinier.

Root

2008-05-04T10:11:00.001+07:00

Last night I watched this comedy show in Trans TV, an Indonesian local station. This show is called Extravaganza, and it mostly is funny. There was this segment, a parody on Indonesian traditional singers called Sinden. One of the guest stars was this Caucasian girl, dressing in a traditional clothing called Kebaya from one of Indonesian ethnic groups, Javanese. And amazingly, this Caucasian girl behaved exactly like a Javanese girl, talked like a Javanese girl, and even sang Javanese song in just perfect Javanese accent. People were amazed and cheered.

I was too amazed and cheered. But then my cheers stopped in mid air. Then I walked rather unconsciously to a mirror. Then staring at my own reflection. I looked at, unmistakably, a Javanese girl. The black mid-size eyes, the mid-size nose, the cheekbone, the eyebrows, the brownish skin. And then why there are not any Javanese word in my mind? Why when people talk to me in Javanese, although I generally understand, I just smile weakly then speak in Bahasa, telling them that I don’t speak Javanese?

Many conveyed that tradition, including the traditional language, is so last century. If you want to keep up with the today’s world, then popular culture it is. Which in my case, it is Western. I adopt the language, food, lifestyle, even to some extent, way of thinking. Which is not completely wrong, because many are indeed good. I was raised in a multicultural surroundings and indeed was prepared to be the citizen of the world. But I feel like nudged by that Caucasian girl in the comedy show. That wherever edge of this world I had gone to, whatever gazillion things I had done, whoever all kind of people I had met, I am, every drop of my blood, every tidbit of my bones, every breath, is an Indonesian girl, from the ethnic group of Javanese.

Speaking of my ethnicity, if you’re familiar with Indonesian people ethnicity, you can’t mistake me that I, by large, by far, is Javanese. And it is this very typical Javanese look, so if you say I look like someone, you will be the 17,821st person who said it to me, hahaha. But then, there this funny thing about it. It is that whenever I travel abroad, people who make a pass on me is, almost every time, Blacks or Indians. Well can’t blame me for looking like Aishwarya Rai or Beyonce… or Rihanna… hahaha…

But I digress. The thing is, there’s this calling inside me to start digging and getting in touch with my root. Of the long line of people descended their blood to me. To understand the language, the tradition, the culture, the music, the way of life, the way of thinking. I believe there are many ingenious acumen, old but wise way to do stuff, which will be still applicable even for today. It will be like I seek advice from this great people, my predecessor, whose wisdom endures time.

It will be an exciting journey.

Shunning Bali

2008-03-30T13:32:00.001+07:00

Like or not, some people can really matter for us. They may be long gone from your life, yet the memory on them lingers still. Though you may not dwell on it, but somehow it always finds a way to creep into your mind again. And like my friend says, reminiscence is a bitch.

I always shun Bali since the breaking up of one of my most noteworthy romantic relationship. Yes it took place, mostly, in Bali. It took place among its beaches, flowers, and sunshine. When it ended, it was not only between me and my girlfriend, it was also between me and Bali. I refused and passed all the offers and temptation to go there since. Once I couldn’t say no, but I managed to make it really short and diminutive.

And now, three years after, I finally can’t run any longer from Bali. It calls me loud and clear. First it was scheduled for a three days business trip, but then it stretches to four, five, six, and then seven days. It was not easy, I tell you. It was a battle. Work really help to shut my mind, but when the night came the ghosts of the past come and dance. On the fifth night I almost gave in and just in the brink of calling my ex to see me, but my angels, my buddies came to my rescue and dragged me back from doing that abysmal mistake.

In just a few more hours I’ll be flying away from Bali. In just a few more hours I’ll grab my victory. Over nights of moments of weakness, over sentimental impulsive acts, over the little, foolish person I was.

I am a different person now. And whenever Bali calls me, I’ll stand up firm, pack my stuff and off I go!

There’s Only One Andrian

2008-03-19T13:28:00.000+07:00

I am blessed with a Godsend best friend in this unlikely surrounding called office. Andrian is smart, funny, positive. He sticks around through thick and thin. We sometimes argue but none of us dwells on any of it. We’re really cool together, not anyone can match our sassiness, hahaha.

Then there’s Hallie. She’s smart, funny, positive. She sticks around through thick and sometimes, thin. We sometimes argue and we do dwell on every of it. We’re cool together, but it withers under pile of things to do. I was thinking that she can be my another true joy of friendship in this unlikely surrounding called office, but now I choose not to take that proposition too seriously.

I guess I have to live it that there will only be one Andrian. Well it’s more than enough :)

“Come here you hairy one!” *me chasing a running-for-your-life 3-month-unshaven laughing Andrian

How a Bag Makes a Woman

2008-01-29T13:09:00.001+07:00

I never get this frenzy that people, or to be more specific, women, have on bags. Women can spend a ridiculous amount of money for a trendy designer bag. Being a truly practical person, I do never get it. It’s just a bag, it can’t call, it can’t take picture, it can’t take you’re here and there in a ride, it can’t kiss you goodnight and cuddles you warm and tight, so why bother spend millions of rups for one?

But just a couple days ago I suddenly so crystal-clearly understand. See, my office was just giving away perks for our last year performance, and one of them was this notebook bag for everyone. People could choose and the budget was good. So I choose this branded, cute burgundy girly backpack, it’s carefully crafted, and looks expensive. I was so happy having it, and yes, suddenly I see, how a fine bag makes a woman. It’s your extended self, it boosts your confidence, it breaks you from the clutter. In short: it completes you. I even never regard a girlfriend that much, that it completes you, hahaha.

So here I am, running jovially toward this bag-frenzy-girls, waving my hands happily, “I’m in I’m in I’m in, girls! Wait for me!!”

:)

Captivated

2008-01-01T16:32:00.000+07:00

It’s been quite some time since the last time I was really captivated. Many of them were situational, the feelings came from accessibility or moments together.

But now I am. Captivated. She’s even more of it because the lack of the accessibility and moments together.

Restrained by golden rules. Wonder if she knows.

I miss you. Can you hear that, babe? I miss you.

Girls of My Life... So Far

2007-12-30T16:30:00.000+07:00

Let’s see… well maybe I do live in save haven. My parents are great, my brother is sweet, my home is warm. We are comfortable middle class, we are never short of basic needs and even can taste a bit of higher class frills without the common complexity of super-rich families. I come from the majority ethnic group, racism is never an issue. I’m minority in religion but so thankfully I live among these tolerant neighbors and friends. My childhood was immaculate, I did great at school, friends and teachers loved me. My teen years were colorful but generally exciting. My college years were great. And I’m undergoing a promising professional life now.

Therefore I would like to thank you, girls of my life. My exes and all of you who ever crossed path with me in the romantic side. Thank you for really put a balance to my life, put the bitterness intertwined with the sweetness. Thank you for teaching me how to cope with betrayal, loss, and ridicule. Thank you for pointing me my room of improvements. There were moments when I hated the challenging lesson of life you had given, but now I really realize how my every drop of tears does nothing but growing me to a better person each time.

If I can choose, I definitely want to pass this pain with the lesson. But learning process is always painful, it’s an investment of time, money, and peace of mind. I guess only through it I can really learn. About perseverance, faith, hope, and finally, love.

Therefore, again, thank you, girls, thank you. No sarcasm here, no irony. I’m humbly thanking you all. My personal growth was with you, all of it were treasuring for me.

Happy new year, wish you all love, wish you all happiness.

Story of a Clam

2007-11-09T09:24:00.000+07:00

In a beautiful seabed by a secluded small tropical island, live these two clams. They are pearls clams, the type of clams who can produce pearls. They are talking to each other.

“Uh why don’t I feel good today, the inside of my body itches badly, like some sharp piece tearing me from inside,” says of the clam.
“Oh,” the other clam looks at her friend sympathetically. “It’s a grain of sand, it enters your body and nested in your softest inner part.”
“I don’t like it! It hurts me! How can I get rid of it?” cries the pained clam
“You can’t, it will stay with you for a very long time,” answered her friend.

The clam with the grain of sand inside her cries loudly. The sand really hurts her, it sits indeed in her softest inner part. Anything she does to expel it just makes it grazes deeper into her tissue. After a couple of days trying, she gives up. She learns, painfully, to try to accept the grain of sand inside her. She cries many nights for the pain it causes her. But after a while she surprised that she has grown used to it. It still there, she can feel it, but it hurts less and less. Until one morning she wakes up and realizes the grain of sand has become a part of her. And somehow the pain makes her stronger, she experiences other pains after the sand grain incident, but they don’t bother her too much anymore, she had experienced the toughest with the sand grain.

A couple of years later, the clam is pulled out of water. She’s opened, and they find a very beautiful pearl inside her. It’s big, shiny, and have the purest white. People are mesmerized by its beauty. They bring it to the king, and the king loves it so much, he decides to put it in his most honored regalia. And so the pearl becomes most regarded piece of jewel in the entire kingdom, and it is descended to generations of kings and queens for many many centuries. The clam herself gets as the same honor, she’s placed amongst the kingdom’s most treasured ornaments in the palace, where a lot of people present their honor to the clam which produce the most beautiful pearl.

The clam had pained yet endured and then ultimately rewarded for it. Sometimes when a grain of sand enter our softest part and pains us a lot, let’s try to endure and make the best of it. Sometimes it is necessary to pain, who knows, your grain of sand is on their way to become the most beautiful pearl inside you.

Let’s all think happy thoughts today! :)

Indonesia, Land of Contrast

2007-10-31T11:08:00.000+07:00

This morning I was flabbergasted. I was reading on Indonesia’s prime national newspaper, in their stripping continuing story. First, it was a lesbian story. Second, today it articulated an explicit kissing act between women. It means it will be read by no less than three million Indonesians.

If you’re not familiar yet with Indonesian people psychographics, here’s a quick look. Indonesia is by far one of the countries with the most populated religion devotee and practitioners. Indonesian people are so into family, both nuclear and extended. Ethnic group bonding is also strong. People are timid, not expressive, and love to conform. For short, this is where traditional values are implemented at their best.

And then try to explain these events happened in Indonesia:

Never a homosexual person hazed for his/her homosexuality
When a homosexual couple walks holding hands, people politely try not to look, then only softly chuckling on them after the couple walks out of hearing distance
Lesbian girls can go away with their public display affection since girls do over each other here, we Indonesian girls touch other girls a lot, with or without certain intentions
Transvestites are regarded as good entertainer, their manner of speaking is copied as the cool people manner of speaking, their constant appearance in national TV comedy shows is highly in demand
A lesbian story with overt women-to-women kissing act goes to three million pair of eyes to read and (so far) no one protest.

All I can say is, although we Indonesians are largely traditionalists, we tolerate oddities, as long as it is enjoyable to watch. Yeah we know how to have fun!

And with all these, as a lesbian, I can’t ask for more :)

99 Coins of Gold

2007-10-19T11:56:00.000+07:00

Once upon a time, there was this very rich king. He was so rich he could buy anything under the sun. And he lived his life doing so, spending anything to his liking. Yet, he always felt he was still missing something. He often stared out the window, under his gold-and-diamond-made-of dome, just feeling empty inside. Then one the king saw one of his servant, the servant was doing some cleaning. He whistled and hummed so happily, his face was so elated. The king was intrigued, than asked the servant what made him looked so happily fulfilled. The servant answered,

"I have everything. I'm healthy, I have a very good job, I have enough money to bring home, I have a small but nice house, I have a beautiful wife who loves me, I have two wonderful daughters who love me as much. That's why I'm so happy".

The king was amused with the answer. Then the king went to see his chancellor. He said,

"One of my servants seems to be so very happy. I wonder what can make him loose the feeling."

His chancellor said, "Your majesty, tonight, put a sack filled with 99 pieces of gold coins in front of his house. Then tomorrow morning you will see his happiness fade away."

The king was bewildered, but his chancellor asked him to just do so. So the king followed the advice, and at night he put a sack filled with 99 pieces of gold coins in front of his servant house. Morning came, and the servant's family found the sack, and they were thrilled to found those glittering coins inside. Then they counted them. But soon they were shouting to each other,

"Hey where's one more coin? There must be 100 coins in it, why there are only 99 of them? Wife, where's the one coin?"

"I don't know, it must be you who lost it!"

"No I don't. Well woman, you must be the one who slipped it somewhere!"

"Well I didn't, it must be you, you're getting old and less aware, husband!"

"No I don't! It was you, all women are the same, incapable and useless! Maybe it's your two daughters who lost it!"

"We didn't loose it father! And don't speak to mom like that!"

"Why you two..."

And they were bickering and bickering bitterly all morning while arduously tried to find the one lost coin, to no avail. Then the servant had to go to the palace to work. And out of custom he did his chores with fuming face, no happy whistling and humming. The king noticed this and asked him,

"Why are you looking so unhappy today?"

"Your majesty," the servant sighed, "this morning I found a sack filled with gold coins in front of my house. It should be 100 pieces of them, but my stupid wife and daughter must loose one of them, so there were only 99 left. Uh you just can't trust women, they are sooo unreliable, lazy, and ..." and he went on nitpicking his family. The king listened to him, and suddenly he knew his question had been answered. The king went to see his chancellor. He said to him,

"Yes finally I know what caused this feeling like missing something, this constant emptiness in my heart. It was the attitude of being ungrateful of what I have, and busily searching for the things which are actually never meant for me. It's like my servant who busily searching for the nonexistent coin and abandoning other precious things he has, it is ripping all the joy that already inside him. So from now on I will be all grateful and enjoying everything I have, and stop worrying about things which actually never there, never meant for me."

Remember Me

2007-09-24T17:21:00.000+07:00

Feels like a million years ago, don’t you think? The open wounds have closed, the bitter aftertaste long subsided. Now your color, our color, emerge just so slowly, into my eyelids again. Your blue sky, white and red hibiscus. White stripped planes, yellowish airport sign. Blackened night sea with its waves touching the shore. Dark blue, light blue, red mini SUV. Moss green bottle of olive liquid soap. Dark brown, brown, and the lightest brown of your eyes.

Stripping down my clothes of consciousness. This once, only this once, I surrender.

Remember me, Baby. Please remember me.

Dearest Buddy

2007-06-23T09:37:00.001+07:00

These days in my office there’s this ubiquitous email in our inbox, subjected Can A Man and A Woman be Friends Only. Been a lively chat, and up to this morning, the court is adjourned to the decision of: no, a man and a woman cannot be just friends, they will reach this point where the will fall romantically to each other, or at least one of them to the other. With a little disclaimer: possible under the sole circumstance as to one of or both the party is/are gay. People in my office solemnly abide by the decree. But two persons. My buddy Andrian and I.

Andrian is one of the finest guys left on Earth. He’s a real gentleman inside and out. He’s happily married. We share the fondness of a lot of things: foods, books, comics, cartoon flicks, movies, witty jokes on people around us and each other. It’s comfortable around him, I can tell about my achievements without him feeling outshined because he shines himself, I can tell him about my mistakes without him being judgmental because he humbly comprehends he makes mistakes too. We can do silly things we don’t normally do when people around and never fail to have good laugh on it. And with all the promiscuity in the air of the maledom realm, he is genuinely cool with it. We enjoy a really simple sexless relationship, being friends in through our souls. And he’s not gay, and I’m a bisexual. Of course, I avoid excessive touching, since I’m bisexual, a very fine gentleman can still make me fall, better prevent than regret later. So in this principle of no pure platonic friendship between a man and a woman, we are, I guess, living legends of an exception.

Yesterday, Andrian and I sat together in a pizza chain near our office, we had our lunch. Some people had trespassed me, and I was bitching up on them, and Aldo, as usual, endure it. Suddenly I stopped, a ray of consciousness slipped into my head.
“Oh I’m so bitter…” I gasped. I hold my head with both hands. “Oh I have become a bitter person, oh my goodness..!” I look at Andrian, perplexed.
“A little bit, you are always,” Andrian smiled mysteriously. I open my mouth involuntarily. “It’s part of who you are, being wittily subtle sarcasm,” he chuckled softly. I’m speechless. He looked at me, he grinned, his little eyes left as lines only.
“Is it so… oh I’m sorry…” I said after gaining my composure. “It must be not too pleasurable for you to be with me all the time…” I said meekly.
“Don’t be sorry,” his eyes soften. “I told you, it is part of who you are.”
“But why are you still here with me?”
“Because I have chosen to be your friend. I’m a friend for the good you, and just as much a friend for the less good you.”
I almost cry. That is simply the sweetest thing. It doesn’t come from a lover by candlelit in a fancy restaurant or after being given a thirty-five carat diamond ring or in a post-orgasm delirium. I looked at him and weakly whispered a thank-you. He smiled.
“We are no angels, Nat. We are flesh and blood, we have feelings. If people do us wrong, it is okay to be angry. The most important is, after a while we can manage it to subside and leave it behind. Forgiving people. Forgiving ourselves,” he looked at me fondly. “And I will be with you through that while. Promise.”
I just can weakly whisper a thank-you again.
“Well,” Andrian grinned. “You will always be my Little Miss Sarcasm…” then he laughed at me frowning and sticking out my tongue to him.

If you have to loose everything and can only keep one thing, ask for your best friend to stay. It would be enough.

Lesbian Dating Chronicle

2007-05-27T22:01:00.000+07:00

After I broke up with my girlfriend at the end of 2005, I went to this series of dating to find a potential new partner. I have no idea how this will take me to this roller-coaster-like ride of my life, so very life-enriching, so very eye-opening. Although the characters are all real, flesh and blood real, the names are made ups. Hope you will enjoy it as much as I do :)

Regine – A Moving Picture Says a Million Words

2007-05-27T20:54:00.000+07:00

Well actually Regine is the start-flag waver, the one sending me to this crazy, exciting, earth-shattering journey, haha. She is the pioneer, she is the first answered my personal ad. We email each other like seven or eight times before we decide to send each other some text messages and then phone calls. And then we decide to meet. It’s on January 2, still in lethargic new year mood. We meet in Starbucks in Setiabudi Building in Kuningan area. She’s light-skinned as a Manadonese girl should be. A little chubby but cute. She’s a movie director, pretty cool. She directed tv movies that in Bahasa we call it “sinetron”. This sinetrons is very Bollywood-y, with overly dramatic plots and verrry slow-paced scenes. Well, I thought, who knows maybe Regine will tell me all the juicy stuff on this sinetron world, with its, mostly, kinky actor and actresses, ah it would be fun. And so we’re sitting together, enjoying our coffee. Regine is a little quiet. Well ok, I thought, maybe she’s just shy. So we start the conversation with light things and overall enjoy our coffee quietly. Ten minutes later… we’re still enjoying our coffee… quietly. Another ten minutes is passing… we’re still enjoying our coffee… quietly. I never really too comfortable with awkward quiet moments, so I start to tell her stories, mostly on hilarious things, I feel like jokes are the best ice breaker. She laughed at the stories and enjoying her coffee… quietly. After an hour or so being a sitting down-stand up comedian, I’m tired. She’s a good listener, really, and she’s so good at it that it’s all she’s doing. Ow, I thought, where are my celebrity gossips I expect to hear from her? Or anything about her? Finally at one point, she’s looking at me, about to say something. I wait excitedly, oh here it comes my celebrity gossips yahaha! But after a few minutes she lowers her eyes and enjoying her coffee again… quietly. Just when I about to deflate, she lifts her head, eyes gleaming.
“You sit like that, continue talking by moving your hands animatedly like that, the camera pans in a medium shot, in walking pace from outside this glass window, first capture your mimic and then moves in and gets you talking. Medium lighting, airy ambient scene,” Regine beams on me.

I’m enthralled.

Despite being not talking, Regine is cool. Maybe as a movie director she’s used to speak by creating moving pictures, she’s no longer keen on speaking verbally. Well that will do, I smile silently. I make this mental note to immediately watch a sinetron and observe its credit title to find Regine’s name. Only by being a Movie Director, you can be cool without much talking.

Thandie – I am Judgmental, Therefore I am

2007-05-27T20:50:00.000+07:00

I never met a real life feminist before, and get the treasured chance when I meet Thandie. I hate people who stereotype feminist as sodding sad old lady with fashion sense of the years of World War II and frizzy hair. But unfortunately, Thandie is slightly in the stereotype.
“Men are the roots of all misfortune of women,” her fiery eyes drill into me. I quiver. “I’m glad to meet another sister, who share this issue with me,” Thandie nods at me grandly. I flinch.
“Errr… I believe there are men who are really evil, but some of them are real fine people too,” I say cautiously. Thandie glares at me. I feel like sitting in front of my high school principal office after getting caught up jumping the school fence for a freedom from a math class.
“Don’t tell me you are bisexual,” she says, sneering. “Bisexuality is gross,” her nose wrinkles to the word. And that’s it for me. I politely excuse myself, I don’t want to spoil another minute of my precious weekend in this negative air around her. I rush to a coffeeshop where my buddies are, feel like hugging those fine people one by one, and thank heaven that they are men and women.

LeAnn – Secret Lover

2007-05-27T20:45:00.000+07:00

I work in an advertising agency, says LeAnn. Yippeee! Nothing’s better than an ad person being gay, remembering the vivacious ambience and out-of-the-box thinking credo of that particularly “sexy” industry. So with high hopes I meet LeAnn in a lazy Sunday afternoon. She’s thin, fashionable, chain-smoking, as I expect an ad person should be. She’s Singaporean but doing her business here in Jakarta. We start to talk and it’s pretty smooth. Then suddenly there’s this another girl comes to our table and sits with us. I look at that new girl perplexedly.
“This is Carmine,” says LeAnn.
My face must shout this: and who’s on earth are you Carmine, this Carmine girl quickly add,
“I’m LeAnn’s girlfriend,” she says.
I’m taken aback. LeAnn never tells she has a girlfriend. And she never tells me she will bring her girlfriend along to meet me. I have no problem with that, but there are certain days and occasions when I don’t like surprises. My mood flattens but I try not to show it. Three of us talking, and it doesn’t take long before Carmine looks uncomfortable. She goes somewhere and back, several times. I’m getting disturbed with this. I talk to LeAnn more since Carmine is frowning and not talking much. And after a while, knowingly, I excuse myself. Too bad, since I like talking with LeAnn, but I really can’t bear with her “pop-up”, frowning girlfriend. I actually want to ask Carmine why she lets her girlfriend meeting other people when she knows she will not be comfortable with it. But I don’t bother to do that, I choose to leave that enigmatic couple and go joyriding in smooth Sunday afternoon Jakarta traffic. Better this way.

Fraulein D – Good Things Come in Tall Packages

2007-05-27T20:36:00.000+07:00

Sunny bright, that’s how you explain about Fraulein D. Although her skin is very fair like common Caucasian girl, but she radiates, maybe one of it is because she’s so tall. I call her Miss Healthy, she does all the things: eating healthy food, aerobic classes, yoga, pilates, face treatment, manicure, pedicure. I first meet her when I was still mourning after my breakup with my girlfriend number three. Fraulein D bears with me through the period, and I don’t want to disappoint her, so I push myself to leave all the bitterness, at least when she’s around. We have good times, she shares her exciting stories from her travels and people she meets around the world. She talks to me a lot about things, especially on seeing life in the lighter side. She can be serious but she’s really the life of a dance floor too. Whenever she comes back from a travel she will always brings me unique small gifts, and one of them is a cute crystal blowfish. The first time I thought it was a sea urchin but after I consult my marine biologist friend (yes it takes a certified marine biologist to identify that enigmatic crystal sea creature Fraulein D has lovingly given me), it’s positive a blowfish, haha.

There is this period when Fraulein D needs to go abroad for quite some time, and when we see each other again, she looks at me proudly.
“You look so happy! You must be over your ex already,” she says to me with big smile. She’s right.

Fraulein D has left Indonesia for quite some times already, and I miss her every now and then. Often we email, delightful short emails which shows that we keep each other in our mind. We may never attracted to each other romantically, but I really miss a good friend in her. She’s globetrotting now. I hope one day I can have a good laugh with her again in a comfy corner somewhere of this world.

Patricia – Straight Girls Cut the Crap

2007-05-27T20:18:00.001+07:00

I found Patricia when I mindlessly surfing the Friendster. She’s a single 30 year old and, guess what, likes the movie Kissing Jessica Stein. Although in her profile it says she wants to date men, I thought back then, well, she must be at least a curious one. And she writes her profile with fluency, I like people who appreciate words. And she looks cute on her pictures, what a bonus, haha. I emailed her, introducing myself. And she replied me warmly. And so on and so forth, and finally we meet each other. It’s nice talking to her, we’re getting close easily. But I still don’t know if she’s gay or not, so I begin to probe on her gayness possibility. Fortunately she works in lifestyle media and really open-minded, so we can carry sensitive things easily.
“How’s your love life, Pat?” I ask.
“Crap, haven’t got a boyfriend since I broke up last year,” she said.
Uh, boyfriend? But I still keep my hope.
“Maybe you should try girls,” I say, smiling mischievously.
“Oh no no, I like d*ck too much, a woman will never satisfies me,” answers chirpy, honest Pat. We laugh, she has funny laugh but I have sour laugh. Pat is straight. And a couple days later, Pat calls me and tells me she finds a nice Caucasian guy. And they are getting close, but then I heard they broke up. Ah, I thought, maybe now I can lure her to this exciting lesbian world. So I call her.
“Hey Pat,” I say.
“Hey you, love to hear from you,” says chirpy Pat. My hope shoots.
“Wanna go grab some coffee?” I asked.
“Hey would love to! Let’s go to Lara Djonggrang tonight, my friend has set me up with this really nice guy, let’s meet him there, he’s going to bring his friend, I will set him up with you!” says chirpy Pat.
My hope shoots down. Pat is straight. Straight girls really cut the crap.

Inez – Déjà Vu, She Says

2007-05-27T20:18:00.000+07:00

Inez gazes at my face, eyes narrowing. I smile awkwardly, shifting my legs uncomfortably.
“I’m serious, have we met before? You look familiar, or at least look like someone I know,” says her.
“You are the one thousand seven hundred eighteenth person saying that I look like someone else,” I reply. “I have this very typical face,” I grin rather nervously. Inez doesn’t seem to buy it. Then she cites her high school, asking me whether it’s my high school too. I meekly say yes. Then she name names, her high school friends, asking me whether I know any of them. Unfortunately I know some of them and reluctantly admit it. Inez smiles triumphantly, I know it she says. Apparently we went to the same high school but fortunately for me, never in a same clique. She’s so keen of getting to know me and asking for my real name. I politely tell her that I am so much in the closet and have no plan of coming out anytime soon. So telling her my name while she knows so much about my circle of friends is a bit frightening idea.
“Not that I don’t trust you, but the slip of tongue do occur, for whatever unconscious psychopathologic seeds inside the mind,” I gabble in my feeble attempt to cite Freud. Inez, being a psychologist and a Freudian, beams at my wishy washy. She gets the point, and we spend the rest of the evening talking and laughing, my true identity is safely kept.
Two weeks later…

Bao Yu – What Comes Around Goes Around

2007-05-27T19:09:00.001+07:00

I meet Bao Yu in Sushi Tei. It really amuses me, so many lesbians get-together occur in sushi bars. I’m tempted to declare “Sushi, the Food of Lesbian Nation”, haha. One of my friends once wondering why, mischievously I say maybe us lesbians are used to the taste. I could be right :)
And so I had a hefty lunch with Bao Yu, a fond moment, sushi at all times unfailingly alleviates my mood, and Bao Yu makes a good company. And we are waiting for her friend, she wants to introduce me to her friend, she says I would like her, she’s such a nice person.
“Ah there she is!” exclaims Bao Yu. “Nat, meet my friend, Ine…”
“Inez! What a nice surprise!” I greet and give Inez a big hug. We laugh on Bao Yu’s baffled face, and then explain to her everything.

It’s a nice evening, with my two of favorite things, good friends and fresh sushi. But on the downside, it’s telling me too that this is a small small world. Not so joyful fact if you try to find a new potential partner. At least the food is always good here, I smile to myself while munching lovingly on my shitake kushiyaki. Yum.

Nicole – I am Availably Unavailable

2007-05-27T18:01:00.000+07:00

Beware, I’m a very fluent flirt. That’s one of the Nicole’s earliest sms to me. Pretty intriguing. Actually, many things about her is intriguing. Maybe that’s one of the factors that makes her attractive, and one other factor is: sexiness. She’s not traditionally pretty but she really understand how to present herself sexily. She’s a woman of all trade. She has been here and there, she has done this and that. I’m a lot younger than her, I don’t see the world as much as she has yet, therefore I just can look in awe at her juggling on many things in her life. In the first days I know her I’m attracted to her and about to begin my move.
“Are you available?” I ask.
“I will be,” she answers.
“Are you in a commitment right now?” I ask this since I’m very aware with limits, I never want to cross on the lines I don’t suppose to cross.
“I will make myself available,” she answers.
I’m confused, but I still try. But then all about her seems to be diluted from my life. I still try to recall what has going on, but all must be so trivial I can no longer remember. But one thing that she might not knowing, that I might know about her a little more than she may realize.

Well Nicole, you have been here and there, you have done this and that. Amazing how in this small small world you can easily gain celebrity status.

Saras – Can I do Your Hair, Miss?

2007-05-27T17:54:00.000+07:00

I stare on Saras, mesmerized. Is that the newest trend in hairstyling? People with maroon hair, burgundy hair, electric blue hair, shocking pink hair, glittery avocado green hair, I can relate. But erratic silvery-black hair? Oh it’s not a highlight, my mistake. It is gray hair. How old is she again? I try to recollect. She said she’s thirty-ish. Ow. Having a majority gray hair in your thirties is a bit premature I suppose. Maybe she personally likes having gray hair, people say you will look wiser with gray hair. Well it’s personal style, I thought. And maybe she likes it messy. Or at will, should I say. Because I’ve been suppressing this urge to get a comb and tidy it. I never see hair that disarray since I saw one of my super curly-haired friend get off a bus and blown by a hard Melbourne wind until he was about to fly off. Took him three hours to get his hair ordered. And Saras’s hair is about as messy. And why she doesn’t iron her shirt and pants? Or maybe it’s the latest organza fabric that suppose to look disheveled. I doubt it though.

I can be Shallow Nat sometimes. Or maybe more often than I want to be, I’m not proud of it. But some people can really have very “personal” style, so “personal” it fails me. So Saras, I really want to say to her, can I do your hair and get your clothes done? And why I can be so keen on her fashion faux pas, it’s because she has been on the phone for fifteen minutes or so, since we first shake hands. Be it she stops her phone call and talking to me appropriately, I may not that bitchy on her looks. But she gives me all the ammo by letting me stare at her. After waiting for couple more minutes listening to her chatting to her cell fervently, I excuse myself. She looks at me blankly but I just point at my watch and mumbling something about a sudden meeting I need to attend. At 08.00 p.m. Go figure. As I walk away, I see a very cute, wooden comb in a cosmetic stand. I smiled and silently wish Saras would see that comb too and buy it and decide to do a good use of it.

Anindhita – The Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking

2007-05-27T17:45:00.000+07:00

“I’m a butch trapped in a femme’s body”, says Anindhita, puffing her clove cigarettes, slight smile in her thin lips. Okay, I brace myself, remember Nat, this is a wacky wacky world. I gaze at Anindhita’s golden eyeshadow, pink blush, nude fuchsia lipstick, white frills blouse, low skinny jeans, and cute peep-toe pumps.
“What makes you come into that decision?” I ask her.
“Well,” another enigmatic smile from her. “If I’m with a woman, I feel like I’m the dominating one, protectionist one, benefactor one. Isn’t that the real description of a butch, in a sense of her seeing her role toward her partner, namely the femme, as her counterpart? It’s not always the flannel shirt, the baggy pants, the cropped hair. It’s the psyche that makes the person, and all my entire consciousness tells me I’m a butch, despite my pumps that you keep staring at over five minutes or so,” Anindhita’s face blurred behind her cigarette smoke. I throw my head back. Trying to digest her statement, I have exactly the same feeling when some times ago I mindlessly tried to read The Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. She looks at my puzzled face and laughs.

Anindhita lives in her own world. She’s the girl who keeps silent and smiles to herself and drowned to her own thoughts in a mass of chatty friends get-together. I feel myself as a complicated person, but she’s even more complicated. I don’t suggest anyone try to understand her thinking, you will get lost. And indeed a very attractive girl, physically. Lean and toned from her being a gym die hard. Dangerous eyes, she can turn you on only by looking, left you throw your gaze from her embarrassedly. And deep sultry voice. After our first meeting I spend another evening with her, we talked for hours until dawn. We shared our hopes and dreams. I caress her head, we hugs, we kiss each other on the cheek. One perfect night. And I don’t want to spoil the memory by having another. Because more than one perfect night you spend with enigmatic, incredibly sexy, implausible Anindhita, will be too much for you. Trust me.

Diandari – Which One is the Girl for Me?

2007-05-27T17:36:00.000+07:00

Diandari says she has a girlfriend, so she wants to introduce me to her single and looking friend, Kiki. And in a humid evening I meet Diandari, her girlfriend Leah, and Kiki. Please try a little bit more focus here, because it will be rather confusing. As premeditated, I put my attention more to Kiki, because I make it clear that I’m single and looking and so is Kiki, according to Diandari. But what do you know, all night long Kiki clings fondly to Leah, they are practically over each other. And it’s Diandari who keeps me company and talking to me keenly. The evening goes and it’s time for us to go home. Kiki shakes my hand. Leah shakes my hand. Diandari shakes my hand, and pull me for a peck on my cheek and it lingers a second longer than it should be. And an hour later Diandari text messages me telling me she has a good time and would like to have another with me sometime soon. I read the message amused and laugh.

Until now I don’t know exactly what happened, who is with who, or whether Diandari is the real Diandari or maybe she’s Kiki or maybe Kiki is Leah or Leah is Diandari. But whatever it is and whoever they are, it was a good show and I surreptitiously enjoying it, haha.

Elle – We Talk About Flowers

2007-05-27T17:27:00.000+07:00

Elle lives in Shanghai. I met her when I was having a conference there. You will love Elle the first time you see her. Her skin is a little bit darker than common Chinese girls but it gives her a healthy look. She’s lean and lanky and has the flattest abs. But it’s her eyes. She has a pair of big almond shaped eyes. Eyes that millions of girls will willingly spend much and suffer a lot in a plastic surgery table to get. She will lower her head a bit and look up at you shyly, ah she’s irresistible when she does that. She graduates from a fashion school, justifies her good taste in clothes. I love how her pants or miniskirt hanging on her hips, and how she walks featherweightly. She’s treating me well. She brings me to her house, she introduces me to her friends and sister, she takes me to parties, we have good food, we go places, she gives me the best five nights of a dull Shanghai conference could turn out to be. But then this is something she says that get all my senses: we’re in bed, just recovering from an intimate moment when she rolls over and look me at the eyes.
“Flowers,” she says.
“Flowers?” I say.
“Yes, flowers,” she says. “Flowers are pretty, I think just a little things on earth are more beautiful than flowers,” she says. “But they died so soon, they bloom beautifully today and the next day they’re dying, and the next day they are gone,” she says quietly. Then she closes her eyes and snuggles on me. A big bell suddenly clangs in my head.
“What are you talking about, Elle,” I ask. “Are you saying we are doing this in the ‘flowers’ way?” I ask. Though not wanting to know the answer. Elle snuggles on me, holding me tight.
“I’m yours,” Elle says.
“Yes you are,” I say to myself. For tonight.

Elle is a very nice girl that you will love to be your girlfriend. But we live in totally different world. And we don’t do long distance. After I’m back home we have tried but it doesn’t work. But I keep her in my heart.

Joe – Boy(ish Girls) don’t Cry

2007-05-27T17:18:00.000+07:00

The first time I don’t know why Joe is so often placing her palm over her nose, her palm flat, left and right hands fingers meet. It was pretty dark, the place we meet, I can’t really see her face. A couple of minutes later there’s this answer to my curiosity.
“I really miss her… I’m all void… I can’t bear this anymore…” Joe squeaks meekly. Joe is toned and sturdy. Wears manly shirt and a pair of nice Birkenstock. Hair is cropped and neatly waxed and combed. Strong jawline. And now she’s closing her face with her hands, shoulders up and down. Golly, I say to myself, she’s crying. Nothing’s wrong with crying, as a matter of fact crying is a very healthy release for the broken-hearted. But seeing manly Joe crying is really astounding. And not mentioning it’s on public.
“Why she must leave me… why… I’ve done so much for her..!” Joe whined louder in between teary sniffs. People start to look us, puzzled. They’re looking at me accusingly, they must be thinking what this girl has done to her unfortunate boyfriend. I suppress a sinful desire to laugh. But I don’t, instead I lean and hold her hand. Joe continues sobbing.

I once read that the grief from separating from your partner is even greater than the pain of having one of your closest relative died. So I completely understand why sturdy Joe is having a breakdown. But I personally also think that if you are grieving, do it gracefully. Show the world that you are okay, save your tears and the much-needed, self-pity whimpers in a closed room. Your ex girlfriend might crush your heart into pieces, but don’t let her makes you loose your poise too. She doesn’t worth it. Repeat after me: She doesn’t worth it. Good.

Revana – Two Types of Silence: Silence which is Golden and Silence which is of the Lambs

2007-05-27T17:07:00.000+07:00

I don’t usually romantically into girls who are not heavy in the feminine side. Butches and androgynes are my buddies, buddies don’t kiss. It takes a very fine androgyne to make me fall. Revana bears that fineness. She’s compassionate, attentive, with the right attitude. You can rely on her, she will take care of you. You can talk to her for hours and she will listen to you. For the first time in my life I really look into someone’s eyes and enjoying her beauty there, instead of devour on over her looks first.

We’re first of all being good friends to each other. We talk, we laugh, no hidden agenda from both sides. She’s really a friend in need, one example is on the mega-flood of Jakarta earlier this year when I was the helpless casualty, she’s there on her cell soothing me. Really appreciate her being there. After a couple of months, we slip into romance, soft and subtle. Before you go “aaahhh”, I tell you, despite all the sweet preamble, we are being girlfriends only for… 3 days. On our much expected first intimate moment together, she suddenly goes silent. Deafening silence, since through it she is telling me she is still so much in love with her ex. So I thoughtfully retreat myself.

After that we are still friends, a very good friend she is, I was once hospitalized and she’s sweetly being there for me. Then I get well and ready to run to my buddy Revana, but then she’s walking away. In silence.

I don’t miss that brief moment of when we’re girlfriends. But what I really missed is the big chunk of our togetherness when we’re good friends. Now I feel her thousands miles away. Maybe it is more to her to be inside that comfortable silence. I respect that each and every bit.

After Revana, I squirm to every word ‘relationship’ spoken.

Revana is one fine woman. I sincerely wish one of these days she will find what she’s looking for.

What is Easy and What is Not

2007-04-24T19:44:00.000+07:00

It's easy to fall in love or to make someone fall for you. The million dollar question is, would you stay? When her imperfectness seems less cute, when the bed turns rather cold, when the initial thrilling sparks subside? Would you materialize the sweet words into real acts? When moans of ecstasy simplify to day-to-day aspects of a relationship, would you give your best to live it or choose to feel suffocated by it? When she turns to be real person with both real lacks and real fineness, would you stay or would you pack your bag and leave for another adventure?

What's the Basic Keeps You Living?

2007-04-23T19:47:00.000+07:00

Have your head perfectly intact. Have your heart beating steadily. Can breathe normally. Can sleep peacefully. Have a roof over your head. Have functional family. Have friends to call and to spend quality times with. Have a decent job with enough to bring home. Have the chance to see the world and meet new people. Have a decent ride to bring you here and there. Have hobbies. Can listen to good music. Can watch comedy show on tv. Can meet the sunshine. Can look up and see the stars. Can make peace with your past. Can put up with bygones which are bygones. Can forgive people. Can forgive yourself. Can laugh in sorrow. Can cry in joy. Can love.

Yes I think I will definitely live… :)

A Real Conversation Between Ms. D and I

2007-04-22T19:41:00.000+07:00

Nat: Hey look look look... what a beautiful girl... what a hair, what a body, what a flawless skin... and ah the beautiful face...
Ms. D: You like her?
Nat: Yea, ah I will be so happy if I can have a girl like that!
Ms. D: You had a girl like that. Your last ex is exactly like that. Great hair, beautiful face. And how did she treat you?
Nat: Crappy.
Ms. D: See? Okay Nathalie, girl, one day soon you will reach this point where look doesn't matter anymore.

D, yes you're right. I just reached this point where look doesn't matter anymore.

Dear Dearest Buddy

2007-04-21T19:39:00.000+07:00

If you have to loose everything and can only keep one thing, ask for your best friend to stay. It would be enough.

My best friend will never read this blog, but he will feel this love for him, wherever he is.
Thank you buddy, I will never do it without you :)

A Post Breakup Note? A Holiday Brochure Content?

2007-04-20T19:34:00.000+07:00

You know what my problem is? It’s this extremely clear memory of mine. Not on the things grandeur, but on small things. I remembered riding in an airport taxi on Friday nights, passing Harris Hotel Tuban, into the Kubuanyar lane. It was always quiet, and I always got this elated feeling of “Hey I’m in Bali!” while people should cope to stay in the less lovely Jakarta in such a beautiful night. I remembered zigzagging to avoid holes in your lane. I remembered actually it was a bit scary one, the edges were so steep. I remembered I was always a bit confused to find your gate, other house’s gates seemed so similar at night. I remembered opening your gate, sometimes I, so silly of me, mistakenly tried to slide aside the shorter one on the right, and after some moments of pushing with all my might, it didn’t move an inch, then I smiled shyly noticing that it was the unmovable one. I remembered the pebbles in your gateway, I always a bit scared one day I would trip on one and landed on my butt, well I was lucky enough to avoid it happened. I was always giddy walking in the small passageway to your door, it was always dark and I still should manage to shun the hibiscus thin branches that eagerly wanted to slap my face. I remembered one day I found a cat slept in one of your chairs in your terrace, aha what a treat for me. I remembered saying something funny about the cat, then it meowed at me angrily, and we laughed on it.

I remembered you teased me with those creepy crawly stuff in your shower. At first I felt a bit funny having a bath in open air, but then I enjoyed it much. My skin looked all aglow and you could see the water splash on it, sparkling from the sunshine, it looked so pretty. I didn’t really fond of olive oil before, but since I bathed with your olive soap, I couldn’t get enough of it. Yes your bathroom was a pleasure. If I had to loose all my memory about you, and I could only keep one, I would choose this one: ten o’clock in the morning, we were naked, about to have a bath. Sun shone on your shiny long hair. I hold you close and whispering asking you to marry me. And you smiled, your prettiest smile, looked into my eyes and said yes. I couldn’t be happier. Yes, if I could only keep one memory, I only wanted to keep that smile and the sunshine.

I love your room. I liked how your closet was embedded in the wall. Your book rack was ingenious. Your CD collection was immaculate for me. I could spend quite some time sitting on the floor in front of your TV flipping through them, until my butt all cold from the cold floor tile. I always like to move my legs side by side in bed under the duvet, and your bed and duvet catered that crave nicely. And the one-seater couch, it was like it had “comfortable” written all over it. I had to juggle considerably when we sat together in it, but you know I wouldn’t mind doing it for a million times.

I always fascinated how your rustic garden looked different through your horizontal bamboo blinds. I have almost the same garden view through the window in my room, but it doesn’t feel the same. I enjoyed sitting in your terrace in the morning, by myself, you were still sleeping. I was always holding an open book, but I can hardly read, it was always more fun just watching your garden and the majestic clear blue sky in the background. Yes even the sky was prettier than anywhere. I had the eclectic breakfast, stuff I had from emptying half of your small fridge, some kacang koro Bali, one Mini Babybel, a tetra-packed cold coffee with milk, or sometimes it was a can of Pokka Green Tea. I just loved every bite and gulp. And then I breathed in your sleepy face, and you said I smelled just like a puppy.

I drove a lot Taruna there, I was thinking of having one here in Jakarta . I was never too fond of the car, but after some joyride to Ubud and back, I thought hey this car was actually pretty neat. It was not too fancy I would get constant worry driving it, and not too tacky either I still have the dignity to hand over its key to the Maya Ubud Resort valet person. It was easier to drive than a sedan as well, a nice one remembering those busy, extremely narrow lanes of Kuta and Seminyak. I remembered I could drive from Kuta to Denpasar and back by myself, I was so proud of it, it was a big thing for someone with poor sense of direction like me. Of course with a little help from you when I was mindlessly circling Puputan Avenue several times.

I was always enjoying your choices of eatery. Harsi was the best. I couldn’t get enough of the beef satay and spicy shredded chicken. And the price was a particular delight, I still can’t figure out how I could eat so much there and only had to pay Rp. 20,000 for both of us, including my medium Coke and your Teh Botol, and some of my occasional kerupuk. Then also the Pecel Madiun place in Denpasar, their food was real good, since I can have sweet soy sauced quail eggs there. But I still couldn’t forget you once stuck a fish thorn in your tongue and then pulled it out without getting any wound, wow how could you that? And also you once eating some peanut rempeyek while you were still recovering from typhoid fever, and I absentmindedly allowed you, then you laughed when I, finally, grumblingly realizing it. Semak was another delight. So rustic yet oddly comfortable. The fish abon was the champion. I always ended up emptying it from your plate. But the urap was a bit traumatic, I was busy removing some squid feet in it, since they looked funny. And to the up class way: Maya Ubud Fine Dining. We went there twice, but I’d rather remember the first. It was stunning. It even had stars in the sky, so many of them, spread evenly in the night sky. I was tempted to think could the people in Maya Ubud even manage to set the stars that way. And the Bali Deli. A real good place, although you advertised it to me in a bit peculiar way, “Let’s go there, they have cows as their scene”. Beaches, gardens, oceans, I can understand. But cows? But you were right, the place was comfortable and the food was good. I was so lucky I saw a very pretty sight once we were there, you dancing to the music. Maybe you should dance more often, you looked so lovable dancing.

Although I didn’t particularly enjoy the walk from Hard Rock Hotel parking lot to Starbucks Kuta, it was quite a walk for me with those uphill walking and stairs, but I loved chilling out in its open space seats. I loved sitting mindlessly, unthinking, it always felt so good when you could just chilled in a public place without worrying some people you know might show up and strike conversation when you didn’t feel like it. I could completely enjoying myself. And peering lazily to passersby and having fun watching their antics. Legian Starbucks trailed in the second. It was nice also, with the cute wood panels as accents, but it was less open spaced. Though I had the chance to do something delightful there, massaging your well-groomed feet. And we never missed a laugh when we passed a café nearby, it said it served fork steak.

I remembered Sunday nights were always a drag. I didn’t feel like flying back to Jakarta . And sometimes it was so stressing, we always found things to bicker about. Or was it my insecurity, at that moment I was thinking that in some undetermined time in the future, I would fly back to Jakarta and didn’t have the reason to return. But you always bid beautiful farewells, I couldn’t thank you enough for your willingness to sleepily went with me to the airport in still dark dawns. At our last parting in the airport parking lot, you said you might cried, until you would drown in the car from the tears. I couldn’t keep myself from giggling when I remembered it. And you always challenged me to just went back to your house, skipped the flight, skipped the Monday at the office. But I never dared to do so, and it’s one of the things I’m regretting now.

Wow it feels good pouring my thoughts in a writing. See, I will be ok. I always find peace in words. You stay well ya. Please stop feeling guilty and worrying about me. Yes I let you go.

Nat