Taking chances

If you're lucky, you'll find that the universe is actually kind enough to offer you second chances in life. In fact, I believe that it always does- though it may choose not to offer it in exactly the same way.

Every protected memory has a heartbeat, framed to instill an exact emotion, from an exact word or phrase... delivered by perhaps an exact person. You try to capture and grasp every little detail before you realise that it would be another lost battle against time. Sure, you'll always remember how "torn" you felt when your heart was broken, or perhaps the passion you felt when touching the soft details of someone's skin- but it would never be quite whole again. In a few years, you'd be surprised at how very few words of facts would be used to describe your once "great" experience. Time will slowly wash away context- and holding onto emotion without context is not only irrational but humanly impossible.

I believe that this exact framed hearbeat from an unbearable experience, or a very cunning one, could only be "relived" when another event of the same nature applies- when you try not to out-smart your second chance by praying and hoping... just hoping, that this time it will work out for the best. Afterall, let's not settle for a happy ending when we can get happily ever after.

Happy new year 2009. Here's to another 9 years of happiness :)

less-than-smart

The greatest thing about being less-than-smart is that all the smart people question your sincerity when you fire jokes on your state of decayed academic life. It’s refreshing- laughing against those looks of pity while at the same time trying to settle with yourself deep down. While others might think of it as ‘negative energy’, or ‘motivation killers’, I think of it as the chance to openly accept my inability and thus gather enough to fight back.

Enough of what?

Courage- to look at myself from the perspective of someone I should become and say “hey, you’ve got room for improvement.” This is not negative energy, this is a healthy and socially artful tact of self-recognition. Yes, that was a mouthful.

three things

I should be studying, but my thoughts of the last 24 hours seem to flicker in my head and make me believe that writing it could make me feel better. For one, this morning before I decided to get out of bed, I was suddenly missing. What I did? Held tight to my pillow and inhaled the scent of fresh laundry. Second, I noticed some changes happening around the people I know at uni. I don't know their reasons for it, because from my view point I could only ask and satisfy myself with unclear answers before I believe that they've always been like that. Just not to me. Perhaps at one point before today they decided to want to get to know me. And that kind of thing always make me feel like starting at point zero, because out of nowhere, this person becomes someone new.

It's always nice, getting to know a new person. Exciting to find the things that make you more common to each other- like finding an old friend inside of a new character. And then there's the flirting, be it that you're both of the same gender, but flirting addresses admiration... The kind where the recipient finds value and self-respect. I find that completely harmless, and conversationally artful.

So third, I took a moment to see myself from the outside and concluded that I'm in an ironic situation. On one hand, I feel like I'm finally a part of something, but on the other, I feel like I'm between two places. I am being accepted but scared of it in the process. I'm afraid of wanting something I've always wanted. I want to reach out to them but I'm afraid.

Afraid that all I really want from anyone new is to find another you.

Once, 6 years ago.

Last night, there was a reunion held by a handful of alumni from the highschool I used to attend in Jakarta. It wasn't much from an event's critic point of view, but for me, it was a generous wake-up call. A wake-up call because most of my highschool mates have graduated, working, and starting to plan weddings. A wake-up call because there were faces I recognized but never took the chance to know. A wake-up call because those were the only people I would ever call highschool mates in Jakarta.

Life joked on me last night, I re-found my "highschool crush" and took the nerve to call out his name among all heads. Turned out that the day I left for Paris back in 2002, ever since, he was subjected to pressures of "calling" and/or "emailing" me because our mutual friends apparently think there could be something more going on. But nothing ever did. I packed my luggage and fleed, ending something that never had the chance to begin. Six years later, there we were, near the parking of our shared highschool, silenced, but thankful. Grateful for being able to admire each other so long that it would be senseless to think anything else were meant to be.

For a change, being around people that shared the same history felt warm and welcoming. I enjoyed last night, and how it ended with a self-promise to live my life the best that I could as I sat under the open sky night- watching the vibrant color of fireworks above.

Captured.

On Monday, 15th September and Tuesday, 16th September 2008, I finally made it alive to Friday with my reputation and dignity intact. One of many seminars and clinics on capital market and investments was being held at the Faculty of Economics & Business, Universitas Indonesia. Overall, the event went smoothly and the number of participants finally hit our target (after some scare)- and those very facts made me proud, and a bit lightheaded after I realised that I've been chronically sleep-deprived.

As Creative Team Leader of Capture! (Capital Prospect for Your Future!), I was given responsibility to make sure that whatever happens in the auditorium stays as planned- from timing to topics. I was extremely happy that everybody that said they would come finally did and on time. There were no major delays to the event and I was loving how it all wrapped together so profesionally. With other Project Division members being "tossed" into this mini-fountain finale. They tried to heave me as well, but I refused. The kind of get-lost-you're-not-tossing-me kind of refusal. Hmm.

After the first day of Capture!, I realised I became more opened and accessible to all other members of my organization. I started to bring down the image of how I want to be perceived and started to show my less-than-perfect behavior. The kind of behavior I only show my friends because I feel comfortable around them. And I was starting to feel comfortable being around them. And that was extremely heart-felting.

See, I don't know what I want to focus on in this entry anymore. It's not Capture, it's not even about being more "accessible" to more people, and I haven't even mentioned about my crush on a totally great, admirable, but inaccessible guy with that... smile. A smile so capturing yet far from over-powering.

Wow, life does go on. And I love it.

Salad days; when we were green in judgment

Thoughts are ruthless prejudices, sometimes brute, and incomplete- but when thoughts are collected and become ideas, they become more powerful. Today I discovered a passionate soul with the will to force Indonesia to become "better" - eradicated of misery from past errors of corrupted in-charges. An intelligent future leader- who vows to "serve" motherland and live the rest of his life in peace, knowing that he has contributed toward tomorrow's Indonesia.

"My salad days, when I was green in judgment." - taken from Shakespeare's Anthony and Cleopatra, 1606.

I believe that my friend meant every word of it. If I could get past my synicism of how the world plays tricks on idealistic minds, I would even bet he'll keep his words and become a leader who acts and deliver results. Hard, concrete results, for my beloved country. Sadly, I've become familiar with the ability of power to corrupt the minds of beautifully devoted people who Indonesia is of desperate need.

I'm a devotee. I've planned the course of my life to be spent here, and though I've ruled out the possibility of becoming a civil servant, one of my greatest wish is to witness my country thrive. I grit at my fellow Indonesian students who have spent valuable time studying abroad who eventually stay abroad due to the near inexistant field of their studies in Indonesia. I do not judge them, but I sure wish things were different.

For an ex-diplomat's daughter, having lived to see other nations' thoughts on Indonesia hands-0n, I have to say that it would take lots of courage to heave this country out of the current mess. The many Indonesian youngsters who think and say that there could be no way out of this multi-dimensional crisis are only burnt out on hope. Personally, I believe that they are holding their belief deep down that one day there would be an Indonesian Alberto Fujimori and re-ignite the heroic fire within.

Indonesia needs our trust. Be it that time and power will corrupt the thoughts of my said friend and millions of other Indonesian youngsters, there would always be somebody who holds dear onto hope of a better future. Someone young, intelligent, and ruthless... Someone that would always remind Indonesians to make that extra effort and make her thrive.

Happy 63rd birthday, my Indonesia. Merdeka!

Yet to heal

My blog is revealing. So revealing that when my romantic life fell apart I had to physically strain myself from touching the keyboard. Suffice to say that enough time has past by for me to not feel any extreme emotion when his name is mentioned or when my mind stops to think of him during the day. And by extreme emotion I mean anger, disappointment, or continue to find myself hugging the closest soft item and press it against my left chest; trying to stop time. Instead, his name is like a word in a foreign language now-- distant, yet so familiar.

It seems so long ago now. Honestly, today I don't know what to think of him. I won't badmouth him because it doesn't feel right to do that just to mask my pain. The fact is he was a wonderful man. He stayed by me until it didn't seem possible to go further. And yes, I loved him as best as I knew how to love. Probably that's what really pains me, that the way I loved didn't prove to be enough. And if it wasn't enough for him; then it probably wouldn't be enough for any great guys out there.

Even so, my heart got broken and the repercussion of that is my eagerness to repel from any remotely romantic relationships that I deem improbable (even if others know better). I gave my heart away and I need time to put it back where it belongs--inside, wrapped with all the warm and positive energy that I'm very capable of giving. In any case, I thought about it and came to conclude that I have let go; but I am yet to heal.

Please, be patient with me.

I am back

I'm chatting with a friend from Alliance Française class way back when. I was running out of sites to browse and inadvertantly clicked blogger and a flash of warm nakedness swarmed me. Seriously, reading my last post feels uncomfortably revealing yet natural and unselfish.

I have a few reasons why I took the year long break from, well, writing in general. I felt the need to repatch myself after the Paris-Jakarta move, find meaning in my then ambiguous relationship with a certain male, and sketch my fuzzy hope of the future. Today, I am well in my programme to graduate in 3 years, ambiguous male friend is my boyfriend, and I have a plan (which is all I ask) of where I'll be in the future.

It would be impossible for me to story-tell all I want to share in one post, so what I'll do is pick-up my blog-writing regularly and I'm sure certain things will come up during. My message though is that I am back, and this is where I want to be.

Love,
Mia