Reality is harsh.

Today I discovered two ugly truths:
1. Sometimes people who you care about the most can turn to be the people who hurt you the most.
2. Sometimes people who you thought care about you the most are the people who actually don't give the slightest damn at all.

enough said

The limitations of being human.

If there was ever a psychological disease called not-exactly-living-in-the-past-but-still-very-much-affected-by-it disorder, then I might as well be suffering from it. My past wasn't haunting nor was it glorious enough to be reminisced, yet it's still attached to the back of my skull like a raw, sweet-smelling secret. My definition of past here is the times when i had grown up enough to accustom life in my own ways yet still innocent enough that everything i perceived went straight into my comprehension without much filtering.

I remember what it felt like to NOT realize the transition from being a girl to a teenager. It felt like nothing was going on, like what you see is what you get, no strings attached, no grotesque monsters or beautiful angels lurking in the dark to surprise you. Smooth as how the river flows. And then overtime I come to realize that suddenly, I'm not as I was were three years ago, and truth starts hammering down onto me like the seeping of rainfall into the hard ground. I can feel and see the transition that suddenly awakened itself clearly now, and it saddens me so much that in this strange and nothing-is-impossible world, there's no such thing as a time machine.

Since I can't seem to forget (let alone forgive) my past, I start to make comparisons. I compare everything: The friends I have and the friends I had, the things that wasn't there before but is here now and likewise, the possibilities of lives I could've led then and the ones I can choose to lead now, the quality of boyfriends and the varied feelings of attachment, the reasons of my anger and grieves back then and what makes me sad and angry now, the joys i had then and the joys i have now.

It's funny how even after so long, the songs that used to make you cry back then are now still able to shed your tears for no reason. It's funny how in a way, you like yourself better back then than the state you're in now, how you wish to escape reality and just indulge yourselves in memories of your past.

"Maybe we've been living with eyes half open, maybe we're bent and broken."

Happiness is a warm gun.

“They say that in the beginning Happiness was a large crystall ball. The Gods used to play with it. One day, while they were asleep, Happiness fell on earth and shattered into millions of tiny pieces. People were so fascinated with their beauty that they immediately began collecting them. Some gathered a lot, others found only a few. No one, however, could collect them all.”

Whenever we are being asked what we want to achieve most in life, some of us would say Success, some say Happiness, others say Success AND Happiness. It is no wonder, since the assumption goes that if we are successful and capable, the gap between having a wish and actually fulfilling that wish automatically diminish, thus leaving us happy.

Whenever I am being asked what I want to achieve most in life, I would be gaping wide-eyed and dumb-founded in search of a satisfying answer and it sure would take me a lot of time to finally come up with one. So far, I haven’t came up with any, instead I would tackle the question with the most ridiculous answers I can think of, like “to find a true love and live happily ever after” or “to be rich and live like a king” or a simple “apa keehhhkkk”.

Let’s review my options: I can’t say that my utmost dream is to be successful, because being successful has a limit and it still doesn’t guarantee that I’ll be happy. I can’t say that my utmost dream is to be happy either since truthfully, I don’t even know what happiness is. I can’t touch it, smell it, eat it, hear it, feel it, so why should I wish for something that even my sharpest senses cannot distinguish? It would be like trying to capture a moonbeam; it’s too airy and formless that even if it’s right in front of you, you can’t help but to see past right through it.

Us Indonesians have this special ability to accept any joy and tragedy that happen to us merely as the divine movements of fate. It is fair to say that we have suffered through enough misfortunes living in a country where according to a research, happiness is hard to find, that overtime the irony had become something to laugh at and to be accepted with open arms.

And that’s how I roll. I cherish joy as it should be and swallow whole whatever bad luck that comes in the way. In other words, my biggest, most desperate wish in life is to be able to sway to whatever direction the wind blows, swim to whatever direction the river flows, with feet stil firmly fixed to the ground. Like a tree with its sturdy roots tenacious deep inside earth, yet its leaves carefree and dancing in mid air, in the hope that with the right combination of firm principles mixed with acceptance, happiness will finally resurface from within.

Although, I actually have one secret wish: I want to be useful to humankind, so my short life on earth will not go to waste J Now that’s what I call optimism...

Sunset avenue.

Have you ever tried going for a drive on a highway at sunset, just when the thin line of the horizon lies right in the middle of the sinking sun?

If u haven't , I'll tell you what it feels like. It feels like going on a ride that you secretly wish would never end. It feels like it doesn't matter anymore where you're heading and what's your purpose, because for a moment you feel contented and mildly disconnected to any other world beyond your little own. It feels like galloping on some ethereal dream-like road which final destination is slightly forgotten. It feels as if you have the ability to freeze time every time you turn a corner and wish that the distant sun would stay partially afloat above the horizon.

You think of colors. There aren't that many colors you can see when you go for a drive on a highway at sunset. Grey, fading azure, yellow, a strike of orange, silhouetted green. Clashing colors of light and dark so harmonized it makes you unsure whether to feel depressed or blissful. Nevertheless, those vague colors reminds you of how things are not always within your comprehension, and sometimes obscurity could lead to something breathtaking.

You think of sounds. Sadly, there's nothing else you can hear except the buzzing noise of wind striking against the machine and the unfamiliar chit-chat coming from the radio. You strive for something else, an uplifting sound to match the overwhelming twilight that falls gracefully just before the night stars show up. Add then it crosses your mind that maybe what you actually need is silence, because only with the absence of sound one can perfectly absorb the essence of a certain beauty.


It feels like entering a pathway in which everything suddenly turns delicate and fragile, and you begin to realize that nothing lasts forever.

5 reason why i should get the heck outta this city.

1. Sanity is crucial. I once read a book entitled Cala Ibi by one of Indonesia’s most prolific contemporary writers, Nukila Amal, and there was this one special chapter dedicated to Jakarta.
One passage reads: “Ini kota duka. Bisa membuat orang gila.”
(This is the city of grief. It can drive people crazy)
Another one: “Pernah ada penelitian tentang kewarasan manusia Jakarta. Tiga dari lima manusianya terganggu mental. Itu mengkhawatirkanku. Tiga dari lima siapapun manusia yang berpapasan denganku berpotensi menjelma orang gila.”
(There was a research about the sanity of Jakartans. Three out of five of its citizens are mentally disturbed. That worries me. Three out of five people I meet has the potential to turn into a lunatic)
And another one: “Ini kota yang menyebarkan energi negatif. Dan paranoia, menjadi insting paling primitif.”
(This city channels negative energy. And paranoia, becomes the most primal instinct)

Also, I found an article on Sunday Jakarta Post this morning (August 16/09), in the streetsmart column by Kartika Jahja, entitled Schizophrenic City. “Jakarta, being the city that it is, undoubtedly offers moist soil for mental illnesses to flourish in. Jobs are scarce, people are predators, living is expensive, and commuting is a daily battle.” Damn right. And her friend was right too, that “Jakarta should have more mental facilities than malls.” But then again, “The malls are mental facilities. They just don’t know it.” Big fat LOL.

I know that dying from Schizophrenia is far from possible, but I can just picture my funeral if say, my cause of death was mental illness.
Some guy/girl: Oh this is very sad, how did she die?
A friend: Lunacy killed her.
Some guy/girl: *confused* Luna-who?
A friend: She spent most of her life in Jakarta.
Some guy/girl: (with a look of comprehension) Ahh, no wonder...
That gets me scared shitless, when madness in Jakarta gradually becomes a normal daily sight.

2. Time is money. Not in here, apparently. Time means spending valuable seconds on road, getting dead stuck in some everlasting traffic jam. I did my calculations. On a normal basis, if you lived in Jakarta for all your lifetime, and you lived for 70 years, you would spend 8 bloody years on traffic. That is: 4 hours per day = 1460 hours per year = (say you have about 50 productive years) 73000 in total, which calculates to 8.3 years. EIGHT POINT THREE YEARS OF YOUR LIFE you spend from the inside of your car, grumpily complaining how chaotic the traffic is, grumpily wondering when your car is finally going to move, grumpily turning the inside of your brain into a massive soggy lump of absurd dullness. Imagine what you can do with those 8 years. You can go around the globe, relaxing weed-smoking deer-hunting adventure-craving spirituality-cleansing. You can pursue your lifelong dreams, cure cancer become a president invent talking trees be successfully happy. Or you can just simply enjoy life.

In case I was exaggerating, I told my mom about my calculations. Her response was, “No, you’re wrong. I read the official statistic on the internet once, and it’s actually 15 years more or less.” Now you see what I’m talking about?

3. Hypocrisy prevails. You take one upper class mall in Jakarta, get into one of the branded or semi-branded shops you can find, and there you will find a tank top costs near 1 million rupiah. And people who actually buy it. Don’t get me wrong, of course they do that in other countries too, like America. But have you realized that America is one of the countries with the most powerful economics in the world, and we live in one of the most economically under-developed countries on earth? In Jakarta we own most of the richest people in Indonesia, but when you take a little peek under the freeway bridge, you’ll find some of the most degraded, rejected, underprivileged citizens Indonesia can ever offer. The thing that the haves mostly don’t realize is that 20% of the richest people in Jakarta own about 70% of the city’s wealth, which leaves the rest 80% of its citizen with a mere 30%. And I’m not even going to talk about corruption and the power of capitalism, which makes the rich richer and the poor poorer. So when you buy that 1 million rupiah tank top, where exactly is your shame? One thing straight, I don’t want to live in a city where its citizens have no shame! Drives me nuts...

4. To volunteer in minimizing Jakarta’s excessive population. 8 million at night, 12 million at noon working hours. With an infrastructure this bad, how is that not excessive? Every one of them equally too desperate to leave, thinking that this city offers anything they’d ever wanted. And I’m not going to deny that alright, you can find everything here; it’s a goddamn luxurious paradise. With the increasing numbers of newcomers each year, apparently some need to do a bit of volunteering just to keep the population balanced, and I am indefinitely more than pleasured to be that sacrificial lamb.

5. Last but not least, I sweat like a pig here. I know this is a tropical country, and it is supposed to be hot and all, but this is just absurd! In Jakarta you don’t get only the heat from the sun, but also from the traffic pollution, the air-conditioner which blows hot wind outside of your house, the reflected sunrays from the windows of a skyscraper onto another, the rigorous breath of the 20 million living objects. If this keeps going on, in 2030 we’d be nothing but a bunch of slow-cooked meats on a gigantic cauldron. I can’t live well under this unbearable heat, especially when it’s not the kind of breezy heat you get in beaches either. I can’t think, I can’t feel, I complain all the time, I spend fortune on sunscreens, all I want to do is just stick my head in the freezer and pretend I’m on a vacation in Alaska. FYI, if you are wondering what gives me the right to complain about the heat since it’s just the way it is, I actually do my share not to make hell hotter than it already is. I don’t use aircon in my room, I recycle used papers for printing, my family very rarely ever buys frozen food, and I take public transport 60% of the time, even though God only knows how much I hate it. Eat that.

So there goes. Whoever reads this, please do not hesitate to give me a reason why I should love living in Jakarta; then maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider staying. Who knows?

Call me an escapist, but that’s still not going to prevent me from trying to be happy.

Human behaviour.

Have you ever felt that u were too individualistic that u started disliking people around you? Or maybe, for some reason unexplainable, have you ever felt like you just didn't like the people you were with, and the only reason u could think about was because you were too individualistic?

My point is, I perfectly know that we all were destined to be socially-dependent creatures, that we couldn't live without one another. The things is, we are all different. And I do realize that we have to have enough tolerance and patience to be able to connect to each other. But sometimes, what's lacking is understanding. When somebody behaves differently than you do, if you were a sensible person, you try to be tolerant enough to accept them. You tell yourself to ignore your differences and just accept them into your life. But ignoring the differences doesn't mean understanding them. When you ignore, you don't even try to understand, instead you just jump right into the finish line to make everything easier.

Ignoring differences are almost as bad as not accepting them at all. Slightly worse maybe, because if you don't accept them at all, at least you've saved some energy and emotions by not being a hypocrite, rather than people who act like they gladly accept those differences, but actually deep inside they couldn't actually care less.

Since I'm in my hating mood right now, I'm very much tempted to list the kinds of people i hate. Well, hate is a strong word, so may i say, dislike.

1. Bad listeners. People who have their eyes all over the place when you talk to them, and then give a really bad response which indicates that they don't give a damn.
2. Over-the-top ignorants. If you don't care about anything else, then give me a good reason why I should care about you. If you only cared for survival, try life for a change.
3. Anti-criticisms critics. I know you like to point out other people's flaws so much. Maybe it gives you pleasure doing that, maybe you feel superior above the people you critisize, maybe you think you know better, who knows? But how come you get all frowny when we criticize you?
4. Narrow-minded stuck-ups. Ha, it's funny how some people can be both narrow-minded and stuck-up. Or maybe it does make sense, since if you were narrow minded, the only thing that revolves around in your little world would be yourself, so that automatically makes you a stuck-up. And if you were a stuck up, you would think that you were the most sparkling diamond around, and every other thing would be nothing but sad little specks of dust, and that automatically makes you narrow-minded. Anyhoo, both are dejected in the same measure.
5. Smartasses. Hear yourself talking, please.

I might be a hypocrite for writing the list above, but hey, fortunately hypocrites aren't included in the list! So as long as I don't hate myself, everything will go along juuust fine... Like what the say, love yourself, love life.

"...You'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior..."
The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger
(Spoken by the character Mr. Antolini)

P.S. Boy, do I need too add some new people into my life...

I'm selfish for not being a nationalist.

I’m selfish for hating to go on public buses, because their condition is far from adequate.

I’m selfish for continually watching American cable TV, because the local TV channels are filled with nothing but tacky soap operas and cheap entertainments.

I’m selfish for not enjoying the scenery whenever I drive around the city, because the sights of street children and beggars everywhere are sure not pretty.

I’m selfish for having a second thought of whom I may choose on the presidential election, because, well, how could we all not?

I’m selfish for always comparing my country to others that had achieved their independence later than mine, nevertheless develops faster and stronger in time.

I’m selfish for questioning, where did all that money go? To national growth or corporate greed?

I’m selfish for never rolling my window down on a morning city drive, simply because I don’t want to get killed by the carbon-monoxide pollution.

I’m selfish for realizing the big contrast between the rich and the poor, and who eats whom.

I’m selfish for doubting them as they say “Treasure our own culture”, because all I can see is their willingness to let Westernization in and turn ethnic morality into a form of ambiguity.

I’m selfish for wishing I could fly, so I don’t have to waste one-third of my day getting stuck in a chaotic traffic jam.

I’m selfish for wondering how the geographical benefits we had at first could turn into a profit for wealthy nations with dominating powers and left us nothing with but defeat.

I’m selfish for wanting to get out, to escape; because overtime, my faith in my own country is getting distorted in shape.