I met her when I was 16. I had arrived in France for 2 months when I joined in the curriculum of a little school in Avenue Victor Hugo. It was in English 501, as I sat, a buzz circled the class when suddenly, in front of me, she held out her hand as she introduced herself. She had a beeming smile, and little did I know that is how she always smiles.
We didn't have many classes together, she had enrolled a few years before I did, so as I was introduced a new language in French 101, she was already doing 200 or 300 courses. I remembered how puzzled I was when she and a few friends said they had to go to chemistry and physics lab at the "other EaB"- so the trip to the lab almost seemed exciting because it involved white coats and a metro trip :p
Even so, we almost always spent our lunchtime together, opening our home-made lunches in one of the tiny classrooms and having the type of conversations that ultimately bring smiles whenever I flashback, to this day. I remember particularly one lunchtime, our dear Taiwanese friend opened up his lunchbox to reveal a familiar (from Indonesians' point of view) albeit Taiwanese noodle meal. Here is a remake of the moment:
(as she looked into our friend's lunchbox)
Her: what's that? (pointing to a foreign long & thin vegetable)
Him: it's xxx (something in chinese)
Her: (looking at me, speaking in Indonesian) What did he say? tongcay?
Me: (answering, in Indonesian) I think so. Is that tongcay?
Her: (still in Indonesian) Hmm maybe. Mia Mia, maybe they also know capcay! Let's ask! (refering to him and another dear Taiwanese)
Let it be known that in Indonesia, "capcay" is a stew of many different vegetables and is known largely as a dish originating from chinese Indonesians. So we thought they might've learnt it from their ancestors in Taiwan ;p
But we were giggling, because we know how foolish the conversation was leading, and laughing when we tried to find other synonyms of food items that ended with "cay" or "pao" that indicated any hint of Chinese origin... and when we got to asking whether "cincau" is also a Chinese word, by this... I was rolling on the floor, literally.
Guys, "cincau" in Indonesia refers to grass jelly. Only it's not green, it's black (I'm guessing there's a proper English label for that, but I searched and found nothing).
I also remember the day the school was running IGCSE and A-level examinations right on the day the French labor union decided to do a major strike. No public transportation was readily available, but because the exams were centralized from Great Britain, there was no way it could be postponed to another day. The school somehow managed to delay the exam a few hours, however.
I was already in school, but she hadn't yet arrived. About 10 minutes before the exam was to start, she arrived, panting, and rightfully exhausted. Which mode of transport did she choose to arrive in? Car? That was impossible at that hour because everybody was using their cars that day. Bus? Metro? Inexistant. So she came by manual scooter. She was still smiling when she got there, being true to the sanguinist she is. I still laughed at her after I had time to assess what happened, how she was creative and unique enough to choose a mode of transportation nobody else in the school thought of.
And today I saw her again. Looking ever so beautiful in a gold & maroon modern Indonesian wedding kebaya. She is married today. As I entered the hall, I saw a slideshow of both the bride's & groom's lives--from birth to current. All of the memories I had with her flashed right in front of me as I saw a couple of pictures taken of her while she was in Paris, with our friends, and our teachers, and our little school. Suddenly I miss her so very very much.
She walked down the aisle, looking beautiful and glowing with happiness. She still had that beaming smile... only now it's collected into a very mature gesture. As I was waiting in line to congratulate them, I thought of how so many us from that little school are doing things and finally finding their path in life (I thought of you guys), and today I witnessed hers. The wedding singer, after singing a few English and Indonesian songs, turned her page to sing "La Vie en Rose" just before I went to congratulate her. I smiled, because I thought God chose the perfect soundtrack.
We became friends in Paris. Went to her wedding in Parisj Van Java (that is how the city is nicknamed after Dutch colonialisation for hundreds of years). Soundtracked by a classical French love song :)
Congratulations, Fitra & Rian. I wish you all the happiness possible in the world and after...
:) :) :)
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Our past promises
About 7 years ago I promised that I would become different, breathing in as much out of a foreign country and come home as a well-connected Indonesian with new perspectives and style. Five years ago I promised to graduate from an international business school with double-degree by 21. Two years ago I promised to fully embrace my second freshman year despite mainstream opinion that I, again, promised to shut out of my system.
There are always reasons behind our promises- perhaps on the logical level or even more so on the emotional. I'd like to think that I'm logical when it comes down to long-term life-shifting decision-making. Though now that I see it I can't make out which reason was more prominent when I decided to abandon my 6-months due double bachelors degree: the logical or the emotional stream of thought.
You may decide after reading my 2 paragraphs above that I have regrets residued thick under my skin- but you would be so wrong. I joke about it all the time, with friends and family, and usually I do it with a pout of an expression that will lead them to believe that I haven't moved past it. I kind of think it's right for them to feel that way, because it gives them something to be sensitive about without being overly full of their high-paid salary.
The truth is, I am now ever more excited of how my future is on the right track, even if that is solely based on my gut's feelings. I'm no different from how I was 7 years ago, I still incline closer to my circle and watch people from a distance. I am far from being as well-connected as I promised myself I could be... because the truth is, I'm not socially likeable that way. What is liberating is how fine I am with that. I was talking past mid-day nonsense with my brother and found myself laughing to see how much I have grown as a person but still keep so many pieces of me bundled for no one to touch. You have to admit, it's a very proud achievement.
So as I look ahead into my bright future, I see my past promises as coutured dresses that remind me of how I wanted to change and be different- but at the end of the present day, when I change into my sweatpants and tee, I know that I'm still comfortably loving who I am. All is good.
There are always reasons behind our promises- perhaps on the logical level or even more so on the emotional. I'd like to think that I'm logical when it comes down to long-term life-shifting decision-making. Though now that I see it I can't make out which reason was more prominent when I decided to abandon my 6-months due double bachelors degree: the logical or the emotional stream of thought.
You may decide after reading my 2 paragraphs above that I have regrets residued thick under my skin- but you would be so wrong. I joke about it all the time, with friends and family, and usually I do it with a pout of an expression that will lead them to believe that I haven't moved past it. I kind of think it's right for them to feel that way, because it gives them something to be sensitive about without being overly full of their high-paid salary.
The truth is, I am now ever more excited of how my future is on the right track, even if that is solely based on my gut's feelings. I'm no different from how I was 7 years ago, I still incline closer to my circle and watch people from a distance. I am far from being as well-connected as I promised myself I could be... because the truth is, I'm not socially likeable that way. What is liberating is how fine I am with that. I was talking past mid-day nonsense with my brother and found myself laughing to see how much I have grown as a person but still keep so many pieces of me bundled for no one to touch. You have to admit, it's a very proud achievement.
So as I look ahead into my bright future, I see my past promises as coutured dresses that remind me of how I wanted to change and be different- but at the end of the present day, when I change into my sweatpants and tee, I know that I'm still comfortably loving who I am. All is good.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
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 :)
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 :)
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
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.
Friday, October 17, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, September 19, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
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.
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!
"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!
Friday, June 13, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, February 18, 2008
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
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
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Needle
Dear yours truly,
I realize finding you would be like finding that needle amongst the tons and tons of not-meant-to-be haystacks but I maintain the belief that a day would come when I’d assemble enough courage to dig my hand deep and pull you out, doubtless. You know how sometimes a funny little twitch of the gut can decide for a complicated thought draining problem? Well I’d want to have my gut clutch and flutter for you. But if I somehow seem unresponsive and snooty, please don’t assume too quick because I’m sure I picked it up and at the moment trying to sort it out.
I’d imagine you to be a passionate soul with just enough room for me to play a role in your life. You’d have your little quirks and visions that I’d find heartening before they become the little reasons to pick fights when I feel insecure; whether it’d be your friendly nature with others or your dream of studying and working in another city without asking me to stay by you. And I mean emotionally. I hope you realize that I don’t usually pass as the insecure type because I’d rather keep my doubts inside and believe you. I think it’s effortless and healthy, exactly how I’d want our relationship to be.
Our dreams would be different, but we would work together towards them. Knowing quite well however that even if our dreams change along the way, we would be growing together and sequentially construct another dream, together. You are my friend, my missing part of the puzzle, my special gift bag with all the surprises I’d want to discover through the span of my life. Yes, you’re my needle.
Love,
Mia
I realize finding you would be like finding that needle amongst the tons and tons of not-meant-to-be haystacks but I maintain the belief that a day would come when I’d assemble enough courage to dig my hand deep and pull you out, doubtless. You know how sometimes a funny little twitch of the gut can decide for a complicated thought draining problem? Well I’d want to have my gut clutch and flutter for you. But if I somehow seem unresponsive and snooty, please don’t assume too quick because I’m sure I picked it up and at the moment trying to sort it out.
I’d imagine you to be a passionate soul with just enough room for me to play a role in your life. You’d have your little quirks and visions that I’d find heartening before they become the little reasons to pick fights when I feel insecure; whether it’d be your friendly nature with others or your dream of studying and working in another city without asking me to stay by you. And I mean emotionally. I hope you realize that I don’t usually pass as the insecure type because I’d rather keep my doubts inside and believe you. I think it’s effortless and healthy, exactly how I’d want our relationship to be.
Our dreams would be different, but we would work together towards them. Knowing quite well however that even if our dreams change along the way, we would be growing together and sequentially construct another dream, together. You are my friend, my missing part of the puzzle, my special gift bag with all the surprises I’d want to discover through the span of my life. Yes, you’re my needle.
Love,
Mia
Thursday, January 04, 2007
So this is a new year.
With christmas, the 29th, Eid and new year's eve taking place firmly one after the other, I can ever so blandly say that I've lost taste. That sounds dark, I know, but I do feel as though my emotional center has melted down. I think I've spent a lot of time smashing down my feelings that I'm no longer capable of articulating what's inside. Everything seems to be muted; great joy and sadness, love and sorrow, even acute disappointments. I no longer feel entitled to them that they simply get lost inside me; finding their way to the safest, furthest place away from my heart.
Deep down I am worrying. I don't want to talk about it because I'm afraid that it'll open floodgates that will never close again. I'm afraid that if I had to come down right to it, I'd have to realise that I am not okay. Then I'd have to deal and dress it up in front of people pretending I am; which would gloriously smash myself even further down.
I realise much of 2006 has been self-deconstructing lies. I keep secrets from myself, letting much of anger tear me apart for moments of girlish conviction. I find it hard to trust, as though every word is a trap, every thought a treason. I really thought I was healing, but that mighty word has obviously been tamped down into oblivion now that I see clearly. The whole year, and I haven't even so much as let myself get healed.
This 2007, I want to know why, and if I ever really will.
Deep down I am worrying. I don't want to talk about it because I'm afraid that it'll open floodgates that will never close again. I'm afraid that if I had to come down right to it, I'd have to realise that I am not okay. Then I'd have to deal and dress it up in front of people pretending I am; which would gloriously smash myself even further down.
I realise much of 2006 has been self-deconstructing lies. I keep secrets from myself, letting much of anger tear me apart for moments of girlish conviction. I find it hard to trust, as though every word is a trap, every thought a treason. I really thought I was healing, but that mighty word has obviously been tamped down into oblivion now that I see clearly. The whole year, and I haven't even so much as let myself get healed.
This 2007, I want to know why, and if I ever really will.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Flashback
I have a t-shirt on while it's 4° outside. The last time this was possible was some 3 years ago when I was at my parents' in Neuilly-sur-Seine. I figured I would miss that place, but it isn't quite that at all. But with everything that went on for the next years, it makes perfect sense.
I merely turned 17, an age which I were still considered a mineur, restricting me in many administrating processes. I was far from being comfortable with my French, and I felt helpless, blinded with which papers I had to have to shift status from immuned carte diplomatique holder to student annual titre de séjours. At the time, uncertainty seemed whole. I didn't know how my parents would be in their new place and how they would keep contact, or if they can at all. I questioned my decision to stay; but studies, as it is in most cases, became priority.
The search for an apartment began. We were two, and decided to rent a two piece apartment. We saw a couple of apartments before we visited the one we took. They were very small in cubic meters, inside a very antique building. Some didn't have an elevator; one was situated on the 7th floor and kitchen being the first piece to see as we enter. The floors were creaky enough to make me believe that whoever lives under would time precise my schedule. Also, there was just something about the propriétaire that gave me the shivers.
And then we found one. Situated on a calm road as a unity of buildings inside a block. We weren't facing any roads, which meant serenity. It was a new set of buildings which also means more logically situated pieces: a bit of hallway before it finally divides to 3 other pieces, the kitchen, salon, and room. And yes, it has an elevator with real doors, rather than those ancient gate-like pulls in so many apartments in Paris. I felt it was a great apartment, and just as we were already downstairs "thinking", I made this feeling very clear. Finally we went up and decided to take it. And oh, the new propriétaire is really easy going.
My parents finally left in 2004, and the first days were really tough on both my brother and me. Sure they've left us to some guardians here and there, but over the weeks that follow we learnt that they're not there to fully rely on, and that the world is turning just the same for them even when we feel ours has lost its pace.
It's funny when I look back, the things that've happened during my 4 years in Paris that I'd never have dreamed of doing before I left for it the first time. I'll miss it, and I'd like to believe some of it would miss me. Sometimes you just feel like you've contributed so much to your living that you expect life to give something in return. But in truth, even once we leave, life will continue living...Then you realise that you're actually very small.
I merely turned 17, an age which I were still considered a mineur, restricting me in many administrating processes. I was far from being comfortable with my French, and I felt helpless, blinded with which papers I had to have to shift status from immuned carte diplomatique holder to student annual titre de séjours. At the time, uncertainty seemed whole. I didn't know how my parents would be in their new place and how they would keep contact, or if they can at all. I questioned my decision to stay; but studies, as it is in most cases, became priority.
The search for an apartment began. We were two, and decided to rent a two piece apartment. We saw a couple of apartments before we visited the one we took. They were very small in cubic meters, inside a very antique building. Some didn't have an elevator; one was situated on the 7th floor and kitchen being the first piece to see as we enter. The floors were creaky enough to make me believe that whoever lives under would time precise my schedule. Also, there was just something about the propriétaire that gave me the shivers.
And then we found one. Situated on a calm road as a unity of buildings inside a block. We weren't facing any roads, which meant serenity. It was a new set of buildings which also means more logically situated pieces: a bit of hallway before it finally divides to 3 other pieces, the kitchen, salon, and room. And yes, it has an elevator with real doors, rather than those ancient gate-like pulls in so many apartments in Paris. I felt it was a great apartment, and just as we were already downstairs "thinking", I made this feeling very clear. Finally we went up and decided to take it. And oh, the new propriétaire is really easy going.
My parents finally left in 2004, and the first days were really tough on both my brother and me. Sure they've left us to some guardians here and there, but over the weeks that follow we learnt that they're not there to fully rely on, and that the world is turning just the same for them even when we feel ours has lost its pace.
It's funny when I look back, the things that've happened during my 4 years in Paris that I'd never have dreamed of doing before I left for it the first time. I'll miss it, and I'd like to believe some of it would miss me. Sometimes you just feel like you've contributed so much to your living that you expect life to give something in return. But in truth, even once we leave, life will continue living...Then you realise that you're actually very small.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
And I Miss
I came around 15 minutes early before doing my oral presentation. I was dreaded by the weight of my brother's laptop but obviously not enough to not care about my chick mantelpiece look. I even took the effort to walk on my 7cm heels that I've worn only once before during my highschool graduation. I was to present my internship study; and I totally looked the part.
Too bad I couldn't quite say the same for the result. But I didn't even think of that until they asked me to "step outside" for 3 minutes before calling me back in. It turned out to be 5 minutes, but it was fine, because it was then that I saw 3 of my schooling comrades pass by the secretariat office. I headed for the door. Very instantly.
I greeted them enthusiastically.
"Where've you been? We miss you."
"Aww well I thought it was time to leave."
"To get away from me?" Said one.
"Honestly? Yes- hehe."
"Oooh that's Mia. Give me a wild hug, one wild hug!"
Without second thought I wrapped my arms around while trying to forget how tacky that'd look in another part of the world. I miss the school, or perhaps, however incredulous, I actually miss schooling. Before I could realise, a friend elbowed me to show that the dean is tapping on the other side of the glass door, ready to verdict me with a grade I care less and less about.
Too bad I couldn't quite say the same for the result. But I didn't even think of that until they asked me to "step outside" for 3 minutes before calling me back in. It turned out to be 5 minutes, but it was fine, because it was then that I saw 3 of my schooling comrades pass by the secretariat office. I headed for the door. Very instantly.
I greeted them enthusiastically.
"Where've you been? We miss you."
"Aww well I thought it was time to leave."
"To get away from me?" Said one.
"Honestly? Yes- hehe."
"Oooh that's Mia. Give me a wild hug, one wild hug!"
Without second thought I wrapped my arms around while trying to forget how tacky that'd look in another part of the world. I miss the school, or perhaps, however incredulous, I actually miss schooling. Before I could realise, a friend elbowed me to show that the dean is tapping on the other side of the glass door, ready to verdict me with a grade I care less and less about.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Le Louvre
The Louvre is mega breath-taking. I meant the structure. I'm not much of an arts fan, but I have got to love the setting. It was around 2 years ago since I last visited, but the cool very winter breeze of November reminded me that I'd have to come back, even if it means having 3 children to supervise and pregnant with the 4th one. It was nothing shorter than magical.
There were a lot of, surprise, tourists with their state-of-the-art cameras despite the new regulations rule of not taking pictures in the oh so happen to be section of the infamous Joconde. Or Mona Lisa, to be more familiar. I remember taking a picture in front of her (him?) some time back though not exactly understanding why it's so great. And I still don't. Sorry to sound bitter but compared to the other bigger and more vividly coloured paintings in which I could understand what the painters were actually trying to say, her highness was really, well, normal. But I guess that doesn't stop her from having her own wall with 4 security guards and bullet-proof glass.
Anyhow, again, I love the scenery I saw on the open pavement of the Louvre. Incredibly spacious, something of a change to the small busy roads of Paris. With the perfect blue sky, yellow sun, and company, the day became one of those days which made me realise that I am in love with this city. Beyond all denials.
Oh, and His Excellency also came along.
There were a lot of, surprise, tourists with their state-of-the-art cameras despite the new regulations rule of not taking pictures in the oh so happen to be section of the infamous Joconde. Or Mona Lisa, to be more familiar. I remember taking a picture in front of her (him?) some time back though not exactly understanding why it's so great. And I still don't. Sorry to sound bitter but compared to the other bigger and more vividly coloured paintings in which I could understand what the painters were actually trying to say, her highness was really, well, normal. But I guess that doesn't stop her from having her own wall with 4 security guards and bullet-proof glass.
Anyhow, again, I love the scenery I saw on the open pavement of the Louvre. Incredibly spacious, something of a change to the small busy roads of Paris. With the perfect blue sky, yellow sun, and company, the day became one of those days which made me realise that I am in love with this city. Beyond all denials.
Oh, and His Excellency also came along.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
I really liked you
"You know, saying that to the right girl could start a story."
"And not to you? Which still saddens me to this day."
I paused. Was it because I told him I was leaving? I mean, really, something as flattering as being liked made public before the leave is totally exciting. Perhaps it's the whole now or never dilemma; and with what your heart feels at that moment, usually never seems a little too long to wait. But I've been there, and certainly have done that.
How a guy feels about me is something I'm not cool in asking. I can be obsessively shy, and for the person to know that--I am good as deadmeat. I'd stumble on words and blaze red hot panic in my face. This is to tell someone that I appreciate them telling me. Which my heart does, more than my mouth anyway. The thing is I'd hate to be responsible for pushing such a good guy who had asked for a simple Indonesian date for the last year to rethink before he asks again. Like how I would if I'd ever ask a guy on one and have to settle with the busy excuse.
And for that I praise the heavens for making him nothing like me.
So why didn't he tell me before?
"It's all good. Otherwise I'd have to deal with you leaving now."
Aah. Well, as far as my experience has taught me, vulnerability when losing is very much part of the feeling.
"And not to you? Which still saddens me to this day."
I paused. Was it because I told him I was leaving? I mean, really, something as flattering as being liked made public before the leave is totally exciting. Perhaps it's the whole now or never dilemma; and with what your heart feels at that moment, usually never seems a little too long to wait. But I've been there, and certainly have done that.
How a guy feels about me is something I'm not cool in asking. I can be obsessively shy, and for the person to know that--I am good as deadmeat. I'd stumble on words and blaze red hot panic in my face. This is to tell someone that I appreciate them telling me. Which my heart does, more than my mouth anyway. The thing is I'd hate to be responsible for pushing such a good guy who had asked for a simple Indonesian date for the last year to rethink before he asks again. Like how I would if I'd ever ask a guy on one and have to settle with the busy excuse.
And for that I praise the heavens for making him nothing like me.
So why didn't he tell me before?
"It's all good. Otherwise I'd have to deal with you leaving now."
Aah. Well, as far as my experience has taught me, vulnerability when losing is very much part of the feeling.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
About a guy
Midway through what was to be the making of a good conversation that night, I found myself focused on a certain guy that was diplomatically engaged in a conversation with my brother and me. The kind of helpless, complete, and fixated focus. Perhaps also in sudden self-strucking "what am I doing?!" conscience because my eyes quickly struggled to lay off when His Excellency was no longer talking.
There he sat; semi-formally dressed with a great, if not totally asphixiating God-given talent, ability of bringing value to a conversation effortlessly. His Excellency would talk, listen, and give his thoughts in perfect quantities in the most delicate way: a sort of maturity that is both young and powerful. Not to mention utterly delicious.
I began to admire His Excellency. And how admiration can be such an honest feeling! Especially when you know that your mother will like him.
There he sat; semi-formally dressed with a great, if not totally asphixiating God-given talent, ability of bringing value to a conversation effortlessly. His Excellency would talk, listen, and give his thoughts in perfect quantities in the most delicate way: a sort of maturity that is both young and powerful. Not to mention utterly delicious.
I began to admire His Excellency. And how admiration can be such an honest feeling! Especially when you know that your mother will like him.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Not his fault
I realise that I was pulling my own strike chord when a friend said "whatever he does would be his fault, not yours" and not letting it settle. I was angered by how I felt. Even angrier after looking back and seeing all the holes that didn't make sense.
God be watching over me, I sat there in silence and gathered enough courage to dip my thoughts to a very black ink pool. Mentally listing the things he should've done and the things he shouldn't if he really did, with non-existing conviction; I let baby lucifer do his job. That's when I realised it.
I finally caught back my smile and said, "I guess I don't want him to be at fault."
God be watching over me, I sat there in silence and gathered enough courage to dip my thoughts to a very black ink pool. Mentally listing the things he should've done and the things he shouldn't if he really did, with non-existing conviction; I let baby lucifer do his job. That's when I realised it.
I finally caught back my smile and said, "I guess I don't want him to be at fault."
Monday, October 23, 2006
It's beautiful
I have a friend who recently had to go through the late-sleep-something-on-mind torment because some guy, who, I'd seriously say thought he was giving her a compliment, said she was "hot."
In case you still don't understand; the word is beautiful. Or pretty. Or whatever else that would make her have the slightest momentary delusion that you are looking neck deep and up. Don't get me wrong, I believe physical attraction is core essential, but only for the purpose of luring you into what is quintessential. And to all the guys that say they didn't do so and so because they don't want to make the ladies think they're putting up a front; I say--- put up a front! Say the right things and do the wanted-expected because those would be the least of our bliss when we start our love-hate relationship.
Like I was saying, I sincerely believe that the guy in question thought he was giving her a reason to blush. But guys, please keep "hot" and "bomb" for the trailer and RnB lyrics. Even "sexy" and "fine" sound disrespecting, in my opinion. It's not the words per se, but would it hurt to mirror her a little self-respect and make her love herself more? I don't think you guys understand how long a little compliment can take us. Why do you think all women in love look so beautiful?
Think, guys. Please.
In case you still don't understand; the word is beautiful. Or pretty. Or whatever else that would make her have the slightest momentary delusion that you are looking neck deep and up. Don't get me wrong, I believe physical attraction is core essential, but only for the purpose of luring you into what is quintessential. And to all the guys that say they didn't do so and so because they don't want to make the ladies think they're putting up a front; I say--- put up a front! Say the right things and do the wanted-expected because those would be the least of our bliss when we start our love-hate relationship.
Like I was saying, I sincerely believe that the guy in question thought he was giving her a reason to blush. But guys, please keep "hot" and "bomb" for the trailer and RnB lyrics. Even "sexy" and "fine" sound disrespecting, in my opinion. It's not the words per se, but would it hurt to mirror her a little self-respect and make her love herself more? I don't think you guys understand how long a little compliment can take us. Why do you think all women in love look so beautiful?
Think, guys. Please.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Understand and forgive
For the past few days I've been thinking whether it was really possible to understand why one would do something that evidently concerns you, but not necessarily forgive them for having done so.
Logically, by having understood the reason; next comes forgiveness. But perhaps it was never that easy simply by understanding a backstabber, you forgive, and act as if nothing ever happened. Human beings aren't divine. We are not that special.
Until recently, I had considered myself quite a warrior in the field of forgiveness. I would walk through with the suited armor and trained myself to dismantle unnecessary feelings of attachment. I still came out being scratched and bruised, but I would be fine. I forgave.
Then slowly I began to realise that it isn't real forgiveness, because I simply didn't care. I had no attachment with the people, I was just walking through my life, bumping to strangers and leaving my way once again. I couldn't care less about what they wish would/has made to happen to me. It doesn't concern me.
Reluctantly after being waay too comfortable in my safety box, I woke up and greet the world. I care now, and you'd always find ways to understand things when you do.
But at the same time, forgiving and moving on become much less simple.
Logically, by having understood the reason; next comes forgiveness. But perhaps it was never that easy simply by understanding a backstabber, you forgive, and act as if nothing ever happened. Human beings aren't divine. We are not that special.
Until recently, I had considered myself quite a warrior in the field of forgiveness. I would walk through with the suited armor and trained myself to dismantle unnecessary feelings of attachment. I still came out being scratched and bruised, but I would be fine. I forgave.
Then slowly I began to realise that it isn't real forgiveness, because I simply didn't care. I had no attachment with the people, I was just walking through my life, bumping to strangers and leaving my way once again. I couldn't care less about what they wish would/has made to happen to me. It doesn't concern me.
Reluctantly after being waay too comfortable in my safety box, I woke up and greet the world. I care now, and you'd always find ways to understand things when you do.
But at the same time, forgiving and moving on become much less simple.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)