serious grown-up stuff

Inevitably, there comes a time when more and more of your friends are getting married. It is announced, you are surprised. Your friend is as young as you feel you are. You give hearty congratulations, still unbelieving. And then you ask, “Are you sure?” Your friend says, “I’m sure. It’s time to move on in life.” And suddenly, just like that, your friend transforms into an adult you’ve never noticed before.

Women are… very women about marriage. Most of the women I talk to are either complaining that their biological clock is ticking, or complaining that married life is such a burden. It is exasperating. Women should be taught how to make up their minds. But before I start abusing my own gender (again), let’s look in the mirror for a minute. Darn, a pimple! But my hair looks perfect. Sorry, where were we? Ah yes. Marriage.

I am undecided about how I feel. So is my mother. She can say “girls shouldn’t date too long, it’s not good, it’s better to be married soon rather than have a prolonged dating game, but after marriage girls will have to limit themselves and their career to take care of the household.” That, in my view, is two completely different choices and the same sentiment. I couldn’t help but notice the tone of resignation, the lack of options, the choosing between two evils attitude.

I do not want to be an old spinster. But I do not want to limit my career. If I ever have children, I would want them to receive my full attention. But the career I am dreaming to achieve will require long working hours and higher education overseas. I wouldn’t feel complete if I wasn’t independent and confident about my achievements. Somewhere along the way I also wouldn’t feel complete if I didn’t have my own family.

Nobody has yet given me a satisfactory answer on how to balance the two. For the moment it is an impossible choice to make. Perhaps it is fortunate that I don’t need to make that choice just yet. But perhaps the sooner I figure it out the better.

don't be afraid to ask (smart) questions

Asked a question to my senior, who gave a very comprehensive and detailed answer. Was very pleased at the new knowledge I was acquiring. As I thanked her and turned to leave she said, kindly:

“Make sure you don’t ask that to the other seniors because they will wonder why you don’t know.”

If you know me at all, you will know that that gave my ego a huge purple bruise.

one hell of a solid advice

...came from a friend through email today as follows:

Teez :

"Quick, I need you to slap me in the head and tell me that my job is better than the previous one, even if I just threw away the chance to go with the President to IRAN , SOUTH AFRICA , and DUBAI."



Friend :

"














Straighten yourself up woman.. think of the slow bureaucrats and the perverted colleagues."

She's got a ticket to park

There is only one thing I hate more than the abundance of monogrammed Louis Vuitton bags (with cherry prints!) and that is the trend of Ladies Parking.

Bf and I were looking for a parking lot at one of the (very many) malls in J-town, with bf behind the wheel. He was about to maneuver into an empty lot with pink borderlines, when a parking attendant gestured warningly at us.

“You can’t park here sir, it’s for ladies only. But you can park here if you switch places and the lady drives.”

Wtf? I thought that was very discriminatory and gender-biased. Just because we ladies are bad drivers and great shoppers, it does not mean that special parking lots must be reserved in shopping malls to accommodate these negative traits. I hope it’s not the result of some far-fetched feminist movement, because, girls can be such drama queens about women’s rights sometimes and therefore dear mr. parking lot director, you have been effectively deceived.

But anyways, bf and I umm ... switched places :)

Update

No, tennis is not like riding a bike and yes, I totally suck at it.

But thankfully there was a personal trainer on guard and the office pays for the whole thing so, I can't really complain (but yes, I was rather embarrassed that *surprise!* i do not play like Sharapova).

Social Sport

A colleague casually invited me to play tennis sometime and I said, “Sure!’. This was, in retrospect, rather daft because the last time I played tennis was when I was 9. I’m hoping it’s like riding a bike (you know, once you can you never forget how?).

But I’ve always harboured visions of sporting with the business types. It rubs off as social networking and what not, but it’s also just purely making friends with the colleagues (who rock, by the way :)). And besides, it’s not golf.

I have sworn long ago that golf is not a sport. If you see me playing golf, you may assume it is because I have to. Golf is for grown-ups, and my inner child still wants to prance and frolic and chase balls and get down and dirty. My inner child also can’t afford the golf-clubs.

So excuse me while I uproot my tennis racket somewhere in the dungeons.

Be careful what you wish for.

Because, as was in line with my wish last week (when I was young and foolish), I pulled that all nighter at the office (all night being all day and then all night and then all morning till 9am).

But it was a SATURDAY NIGHT. Holy Crap.

Girls will be girls.

As a girl I am not immune to erratic behaviours of irrationality. Call it hormones or the time of the month or whatever, but certainly there are moments where I feel like I‘m losing it.

Only last week my bf went on a 6-day business trip to a remote province, given only 3 hours notice by his superiors. Obviously I was very surprised and disappointed because (i) that just killed my entire weekend, (ii) he won’t be able to make it to my birthday dinner, and (iii) 6 days is too long! What if I miss him? (Please excuse my lapses of cheesiness.)

What I wanted to do was to sulk and pout a bit and just generally be childish (when applied carefully, such reactions could pass as ‘endearing’, which works like a charm). But red neon lights spelling “irrational behaviour” immediately started blinking in my head, and so I quickly (and at some point, sincerely) told bf that it was a wonderful opportunity and a great show of trust from his superiors and good luck safe trip and etcetera.

An entire half-day went by without me hearing any more news from him. I start fiddling my phone. If I text him, he’d probably reply, but then I wouldn’t really know whether he actually misses me enough to sms me because then he’d only be replying to my message. But if I don’t text him and he doesn’t text me, then I wouldn’t really know what he’s up to and I would be thinking irrational assumptions all day. (Disclaimer: I do not neglect my work in order to think these thoughts. Most girls are multi-taskers in that sense). So I text him and he texts me back to say he’s in a meeting and he’ll update me later. “Obviously”, I fumed to myself. I knew all along that was the case.

Later on I met a girlfriend who said “God I hate it when guys say they’re in a meeting! It just stalls my emotions!” I quietly thought to myself, I do not want to be the girl who is pissed at having her emotions stalled over a meeting. I am rational. I am understanding. I am in control. I have work to do. I am just as busy. I probably even treat him the same way. Breathe in, breathe out.

Last night bf told me that his stay might be extended for two more days. I said, “Are you fucking kidding me??” Wait, no, that was my hormonal head. What I really said, somewhat meekly, was, “Is there good laundry service? Do you have enough clothes?” I know, I know, that was pretty lame. But one must maintain sanity at all times.

Excited.

I can’t help it. I’ve been given my very own office-room (please compare to previous office of littered communal desks), with a view (please compare to previous office with no windows or sunlight in sight), with a salary transferred to my bank account! (please compare to monthly white envelopes). Yay!

So yes, I could get used to this place. Especially after I bring in a persian rug, a few framed art pieces, and my toothbrush. Toothbrush? Yes, the employee’s manual (bound in a siren-red binder and handed to me on my first day) says that since we’ll probably be staying late we might as well bring personal hygiene amenities and spare clothes just in case. I’m not kidding.

Funnily enough, I can’t wait to pull my first all-nighter at the office. And when that happens I'll probably start proudly complaining about it (don't you just hate people who do that? Like, duh, get a life.) I guess every time I start something new, I fall off the peak of a mountain which I worked hard to get to the top of. And then I suddenly find myself at the foot again, of a different mountain with unfamiliar terrains and unfamiliar faces who look suspiciously at newcomers. It’s always like that every time and I can’t wait to start climbing. But this one feels like a particularly big mountain and a particularly long journey. I need to keep reminding myself that impatience is not going to make it easier.

--------------------------------------------

PS: horror of horrors, I can’t access my blogger dashboard from the office. Nor my friendster, facebook, yahoo, and everything else that’s important in my life! (except google. If they take away google, I'd die.) Oh how I miss my previous office. Blogability was so much easier back then :-(

The 2008 Contemplation Post: When it Rains, it Pours

A bit late, I know. But sometimes a New Year’s significance doesn’t hit you until a little later (quite possibly because of the hangovers, but also because the lazy brain wants to go on holiday too). In retrospect several things happened prior and post 01-01-08, which either changed or cemented my perspective on the road ahead.

- I came close to losing someone very important in my life, because of a stupid mistake on my part. You know the saying “you don’t know what you have until you lose it”? Well, I would add that you don’t fully know what you need to hold on to until you almost lose it.

- A dear friend has ordered me a renowned and beautiful version of the english-translated Quran, with a message to “read it daily, bit by bit”. It’s not the first time I’ve resolved to be more religious, but I’m always hoping it will get easier as time and maturity steps in.

- I decided to choose one over three other interesting job offers with different professions. This was difficult because, let’s face it, I am still that greedy pig and I want to be everything. Well, pig got sent to the butcher and came back with a career.

- I’ve had a turbulent year with quite significant falls. But I’ve decided that there really is nothing that wasn’t meant to be.

- I’ve learnt not to expect that things will come in mediocre form. Every blow is going to be hard, every success a bliss followed by another bliss. Apparently that’s what makes life interesting: the fact that things pour on you instead of just trickle boringly.

Holiday Blues

After the head-spinning delight of embracing my one-month holiday (squeee!) has worn off, here comes the inevitable question: Now What?

I sometimes find it unfortunate that I was never one to stay dormant for very long. Sure, there is the Christmas Eve party invitation and the New Year’s holiday in Bali (please read with a squeal of delight), but that only amounts to 7 days out of 30, which leaves me with 23 schedule-less, plan-less days. Infinite possiblities, but still, one must start making plans. Some of my random ideas while I was busy doing nothing for 6 solid hours today:

1. Do a culinary tour of Central Java.

2. Exercise everyday and get that perfect butt already (facing tough competition from No.1 above).

3. Finish reading all unread books on my shelf.

4. Teach English pro bono for underprivileged kids at the local mosque.

5. Read materials for my upcoming new job.

6. Write a complete memoir of my days at the palace.

7. Become a couch potato every Monday, just because I can.

I have always been good at planning. Whether I will wake up the next morning and immediately act upon any sort of plan is an entirely different matter. Oh and by the way, if I owe anyone lunch or dinner or a casual get together, now is a good time to remind me :)

Last Day

Today I finish working at the palace, and as I ride home for the last time my mind starts to reel back, sporadically. Outstanding moments flash up collectively like yellow highlights on a white page. Mixtures of different feelings welled up, a cocktail of sorts with the ingredients shaken together in a steel tumbler, confusingly. How did I get here? Gratitude, flattery, awe, confusion, and disappointment. They contradict, and they don’t care.

But! Ah, but the aftertaste is unmistakably singular. I could pinpoint it with the precision of a connoiseur. Because after everything else and more than anything else, I feel overwhelmingly lucky. Lucky to be part of it, lucky to be out of it. Lucky to have stepped out with flying colours. Lucky to have choices.

Then again, I don’t believe in luck.

The whole climate change shebang

Having experienced the Bali Climate Change Conference first hand for almost two weeks, I am quite at loss as to exactly which aspect of it I should immortalize in words. I am innocently awed by the magnitude of stakeholders. All these 10,000 participants are busy doing something for climate change? That can’t be right, methinks. I sit in a corner and watch colourful people go by. I’ve never seen such variety since I was last did the UN building tour, and I couldn’t help but feel a tingle of excitement. My subsequent thoughts, apart from those related to my work of course, can be eloquently summarized in the following:

- Quick! Get the free merchandise.

- I hate Caucasian legs. It is not true that human beings were created equal.

- Ooh, I need to take pictures with the people dressed as polar bears!

- Omigod. That was Al Gore.

Apart from that, y’all can read in the newspapers. I’ll just leave you with a few handy tips on how to mitigate climate change. Yes, you can do it from your own backyard! I’m kidding. Don’t worry, I won’t pain you with the change-your-lightbulbs-and-walk-to-the-office routine you’ve heard too much of already. One of the leaflets did catch my eye though and I thought this would be useful and painless to share:

Eco-Driving: save fuel and save the climate!

Rule No. 1: Drive smoothly at a constant speed

Rule No. 2: Shift gears quickly to higher possible gear

Rule No. 3: Maintain high gear and low engine RPM (2500 RPM max)

Rule No. 4: Coast a lot

Rule No. 5: Decelerate smoothly

Rule No. 6: Avoid breaking abruptly

Rule No. 7: Aniticipate the traffic, look as far ahead as possible

Good luck implementing that in Jakarta.

Silence.

It is frightening how silence hurts more than words. Even if I closed my ears I still couldn’t shut out the lack of noise. I am scared beyond measure and nauseous.

The mystery of prestige.

The best thing about working here is the fact that people are impressed.

My business card and the business-email address have been the subject of dramatic reactions amongst friends, most eloquent of which was, “omigosh you should get this framed!” (Speaking of frames, my mother had insisted on framing my picture with the big boss and sending one to each of her siblings, much to my embarrassment. Don’t worry I promise you won’t see it on facebook). Others are impressed with my car-sticker that allows me to go through the 3-in-1 alone (government perks, heheh, don’t you civilians just hate that?)

So it was that when I met a friend and casually told her I was getting a new job next year, her eyes almost popped out and she gasped, “Why??” And of course, the dreaded subsequent question which quickly followed, “Where are you going next?”

I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with the reactions. Apparently, future job (albeit in my view a very distinguished profession) does not generate the same kind of excitement and awe as current job, because you can find a million people doing future job.

So I explained a simplified version of my reasons to said friend, but while doing so felt slightly irritated that I had to explain myself at all. It was obviously a well thought-out decision, one that I’m excited about making, but it’s tiresome that I need to actually explain those reasons to everyone I know just because it’s less impressive.

As for myself, I’m pretty sure the one thing I’ll miss most about this job is blogging (and having the time to blog) about it.

Marriage: Mass Parrty in a Package

Every girl (I stress this in the hopes of impressing upon dear reader the arguable assumption that following thoughts are perfectly common), has thought about her future wedding. It should not be translated to mean that her wedding is imminent, or that she is impatient for it, or that she is hopelessly romantic. It is simply a girly naturalness. It’s just that some girls are more secretive about it than others, as I have been until the moment I press “post” on my blogger dashboard.

In my entire life in this country, I have been to only two weddings which I have actually enjoyed, one was at a coffee plantation resort in Central Java overlooking hills and valleys, and the other was last night at an upscale restaurant in Jakarta where the female guests’ dress code was white/champagne. The two weddings had only one thing in common: the invitees did not exceed 200 people. Other weddings? perhaps thousands of invitees, including the relative of the relative of the relative, and the siblings' friends and siblings’ friends’ boyfriends.

So last night, in my champagne coloured dress and a glass of champagne in hand, I had genuine fun and met a lot of people I actually knew and could chat with. And then I thought, “I want my wedding to be like this.” But I doubted the possibility, because if I only invite 200 people, some 800 people I don’t know just might get offended.

On speechifying.

Yesterday was a good day because I spent the entire day (and night) working on a speech.
The only thing I hate about speech-writing is the deadline, but apart from that it’s a lot of fun.

When I received the first draft from the related department, I felt a slight tingle of excitement and anticipation. I rubbed my hands together, and gave them each a blow. Puff, puff. I settle my hands on the keyboard and hungrily open the draft.

Drama drama. Let’s sweep the audience off their feet. Let’s give them the shebang. Let’s show some vision and charisma and leadership. Let’s… let’s… um, hang on.

Upon quickly glancing over it I realized the first draft was, well, difficult. The frown upon my brow gradually deepened as I tried to make sense of it. And (my brow) reached new dimensions at the following paragraph, lovingly crafted for our President to say:

“The main objective is to reduce oil based fuel and subsidy in our economy. In addition with the introduction of the cleaner fuel for household, we improve our woman and our daughter, whom in our society for cooking and most affected by the burning of unclean fuel in the household.”

This quickly dampened my excitement. Apparently I was put into society to cook, and I need to be improved for that purpose. *frown frown*

Now you see why it was a long and exhilarating day.

5 reasons why I am a complete mess.

1. I had planned to study and finish some work over the weekend and managed to instead spend it on shopping, watching TV, and sleeping.
2. I did not attend my friend’s invitation to her brother’s wedding (because, seriously, one should never invite their own friends to their sibling’s weddings unless said friend is actually acquainted to said sibling) and only remembered to notify her effectively four hours after the wedding was over.
3. I received an invitation for a breakfast meeting next week and am at loss as to why I am invited, apart from having met inviter at an all-important conference in which I gave my best all-important front. I feel like a scam. Dear inviter, I am not as smart as you may think I am. Please don’t make me come to the meeting because then I will be discovered for the fraud that I am.
4. My career is at a crossroads to nowhere in particular because I have not taken any of the actions I have identified as imminently necessary for me to take but I cannot start taking those actions now because there are too many choices and I haven’t been able to make any decision regarding said choices for the past month because I am greedy and I want everything.
5. I feel fat and because of that I ate healthy steamed fish for dinner and because of that I felt I deserved a little reward and therefore ate one and a half donuts just now and I obviously still feel fat. (If you’re pissed that I think I’m fat because you think I’m not and you think I’m just being too self-obsessed, you can go eat donuts too. They might make you feel better.)
6. (Yes I know I promised 5 but it’s my blog.) I just wasted an hour on a meaningless post which painfully exposes how normal I am. Ugh.
7. Somebody please tell me where my blog title has mysteriously disappeared to over the weekend.

Speak to someone. Anyone.

Having spent holidays in blissfully traffic-less Jakarta, I’ve managed to spend more time at home, sleeping late, relaxing, (help) cooking, and umm... inevitably being trapped in mom’s daily non-negotiable tv-soap schedule. I know what you’re thinking, you evil bastards. You’re thinking, “Ha! Now you’re addicted too! I knew it!”. Well, excuse me, but NOT. But I know now who the farmer boy’s real parents are, and they’re rich, obviously, except the parents don’t know it’s him yet and he fell and suffered amnesia on his way to tell them. Boohoo.

If there were ample space I could write an essay on why sinetron is tasteless and may ultimately ruin this nation’s future for generations to come (obviously it would be a very over-dramatized and soap-like essay). But on this occasion I’d just like to point out one thing which bothers the hell out of me.

Monologues. Tons and tons and tons of monologues.

Monologues are Shakespearean. Created for the stage, where resources are few and thoughts must be gesticulated to the audience through the sole means of facial expressions, gestures, and thinking aloud. And the monologues were beautiful and wrenching. Which is why Hamlet could get away with 15 minutes worth of solo pondering aloud on whether “to be or not to be.”

But really, nobody does that in real life unless he’s a nutcase. As A.A. Milne (the author of Winnie The Pooh) once suggested, in real life Hamlet would most likely have been alone in deep thought, when suddenly interrupted by Ophelia:

[enter Ophelia]
Oph: “What are you thinking about, my Lord?
Ham: “I am wondering whether to be or not to be, whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer...”

You see my point. My point is that TV is not the place for archaic monologues as it makes the whole show look like a televised stage act. Two, it makes the actors lazy, as private thoughts and emotions no longer need to be conveyed through very subtle and nuanced facial expressions. Three, it makes the screen-writers seem lazy, as they apparently don’t even bother trying to make the dialogues look natural.

If you’re reading this and you’re a sinetron screenwriter, for the love of God, cut down on the monologues!

Lebaran

The day is sweltering hot. It is quite insane in its own right.
The family is as usual. Just more offspring than last year.
The food is default. Rich fatty stew with coconut milk.
The elders look old. Some age gracefully, some don’t.
Some seem trapped in a stale attitude which was perhaps attractive or passable at some point in their lives, but no longer. It is too ingrained for them to change. I wonder whether I will age gracefully.
I will probably not bother with the tiny children of nephews and nieces coming to visit. I will probably skip town and go traveling instead.
Or maybe I wouldn’t, because I would have already traveled far and wide, and I would want to just be useful to others, and family.
That would be aging gracefully, wouldn’t it.

I don’t want to grow old and unattractive.
It scared me today. I don’t want to be like everybody else.
“But eventually you will”, said bf, “Inevitably you will lose beauty and lose sex appeal, but something else will appear to replace that.”
And of course he is right.
I want to be permanently attractive, no matter what age does to my physique.