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.