I finally found the one

My perfect pair of glasses hihi ... I finally found it ;-)

Referring to the metaphor my friend quoted from a J-Dorama she is watching, Taxi vs True Love, I can also say that finding your true love is like finding a well-fitted pair of glasses. I have also written my comparison between true love and jacket before, here. See, I have a tendency to compare everything with love quest, a pathetic romantic of me.

Like my friend said, to find a true love, wait for a taxi, or search for an ideal pair of glasses, you need to be in the right place. I found my glasses in an old optical shop called J Boellard at Cikini, to which my doctor referred as an "accurate" glass-maker (is there a specific term for this?). She specifically warned me not to try Mangdu*, which I couldn't agree more, since I've wasted 5 pairs of Mangdu's glasses before (I used to be a Mangdu enthusiast;-p). Moral of the story is, don't try to find a prospective love in Mangdu hehehe, jk.

In any case, you need to assess first the type of stuffs, or men (now I sound like a desperate man-hunter or what;-p), you like to find, and then search for them in appropriate places. For my glasses, I didn't have any clue what type of glasses would be suitable to my face, so I just tried all that I found interesting in the shop, considering anything there would be technically viable. Now, unfortunately I can't do that with men, can I? But at least now I know I should stop hoping for an accidental meet-cute** in my daily angkot and mikrolet*** trips, hihihi ;-)


Apologize for too many stars:

* Shortened from "Mangga Dua", it's a famous shopping center, in which you can find anything at bargained price
** A term I found in "Holiday" the movie, for which you can find the meaning here
*** A share taxi similar to jeepney in the Philippines, but not that iconic

The Heart of the Matter

"I'm learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew
I'm learning again
I've been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about
Forgiveness, Forgiveness
Even if, Even if you don't love me anymore"

Those are the rhythm I've been humming for days now, particularly the 2 last lines :-P. And I was startled when I found that the song was originally by Don Henley. How can a guy sing my heart out so truly. Anyway, I like India Arie's version obviously, but I am certainly smiling on the fact that guys can actually get to sing those words too. Bravo!!

I am so gonna sing this out in my room

The After-essence of the Ruins

Another favorite quote for me from Sex and the City the Movie is: "twenties are for making mistakes and thirties are for paying for the mistakes ... " or something like that (so lazy to make research for the exact words right now), which is so true for me.

I have realized it even before hearing that line in the movie. No regrets nor substantial complaints were therefore justified for myself during the aftermath of my "true love turned disaster". I've never considered it disaster anyway until recently (but I'd better not record the details because bad memories are not worth remembering). Funny thing is, I don't feel that much anger nor hatred. My overwhelming feeling was more of a relief. No more asking what did I do not to deserve him, etc. Admittedly I have made mistake, probably the biggest one in my life and will just accept the consequence of paying for it.

While paying for the mistake, I am actually learning unbelievably valuable lessons. As Jo-Ann indicated for her new relationship, whatever the result no time is wasted because lessons are learned through it, I hope it applies for me too. One good lesson I have figured out was how to open my heart, to accept love (despite its authenticity obviously, well it's good thing that at least I am capable of loving:-p). I have never opened my heart that wide and held so tight what I thought was the most precious thing in my life before. I may have shut my heart for a while after the break that I thought I may never be able to fall in love again, but looks like it's just like riding bike. Once you learn how to do it, you'll be able to do it again just in time needed. Now, like in riding bike, the more experience, hopefully the more you skilled with the control and balance so that there should be no more fall-out.

Another lesson I am learning is that mystical concept of acceptance and letting go. Acceptance may mean accepting that things may not necessarily happen the way we expected although we have done the best to create them. It's okay that things may not fall into their places as we expected because they actually have, simply as the way they are. It may also mean accepting our weaknesses and others'. Ahh sometimes we may even get to see the beauty of those weaknesses dear, promise*!. And then, letting go will just be the other side of the coin. Let go what must go out of your hold (of course I am talking about much more important objects than my cellphone I just lost recently:-p**).

It's certainly much2 easier said that done, and it probably will take years or even my whole life before I get my aha! moment, but I hope I have made a good start.


* With Tisha's convincing tone, hello dear (hugs)
** This is my announcement that I won't be using my old GSM number any longer. On the ground that I don't wanna put my number in public spot, reach me, if you happen to have (otherwise I will be the one to reach you) through my other number, my friends.

Hairstyle of a Decade

I'm writing this because I just had my hair cut, back to this style after a several months of trying the buzz of the bob (still with some layers though). I realize I'm always obsessed with novelty. My music taste, my passion for fashion, it's so obvious. So what is it with this style that I've been keeping for more than a decade, in various length, with or without bangs, straightened or wavy, but still the same basic cut.

First I had it when I was in my sophomore year, and it was like a breakthrough for me and apparently for my then surrounding. I remember a boyfriend of one of my girl-friends told her to have her hair cut like mine. It killed me then, feeling as if I were some kind of trend-setter or something (ego3x! ... how my consciousness level was back then I could not clearly recall now).

It may be because it's the most suitable style for the texture of my hair, which is straight-to-wavy with tidiness always its ultimate challenge. This style allows me to become "stylishly" untidy. My beloved auntie used to hate it so much every time I just had my hair cut shaggy short. She said it's like some chickens had just walked over my head or something (in Javanese it somewhat makes sense). Nevertheless I always come back to this style, while at the beginning I thought it was just a short term hype, like most trends in fashion or other beauty style I've encountered.

The epiphany is, now I'm positive I can be loyal if I just find the right one*. Just give me the right style and a certain level of compatibility, with different flavors can be tried every now and then, then I can definitely stick to the end.

*Obviously I wasn't just talking about hairstyle :-P

Missing Miss J

The dragon fruit and that "watashi no kokoro wo ageru" sentence
Could you possibly forget it?
When somebody said we would be friend for life
How impossible to doubt it?

Nights and days in the library
I would in a million times repeat it if I should
Catching up the last train from Takebashi
Would you stop the time for a minute if you could

Sleeping over in Odaiba, cooking together in Kodaira every other holidays
Talking bout boys and books, watching Carrie and her friends all the way
When endless assignments and deadlines were coming their ways
You could sound grumpy, but only sometimes I must say

There you are Miss J, my favorite classmate ever
Keep your witty jokes that bring your friends into laughter
With your new path, good luck, and be happier, my dear
After all, balance is an indispensable treasure, please remember

With love,
your twin

Undepressing the Depressing Moments*

It turns out I'm too busy to search for a new place for my daily dose/scratch paper of my rambling thoughts/elusive tranquility. So, for the time being and a while, I might write even non thematic junks here.

For a couple of days I've been quite depressed, some with quite clear reasons/triggers, but there is always a little dosage of hormone gets involved. But then I found a quite effective counter attack. It's finding my sense of usefulness. Usually, when I feel a bit of stress or gloom, I would feel a glimpse of "nothing I do matters so I better just lay down and do nothing" kinda feeling. I felt it yesterday afternoon when I just woke up from a nap. Yes, a nap I stole from my supposedly on-duty-outside-office yesterday.

I notice some people (perhaps it's lifestyle magazines?) usually suggest something self indulging (or should I say selfish?), like shopping or pampering oneself in a spa to get rid of the stress or depression. But I found the effect is very temporary and even more depressing in the end when the fun is over. It's quite different if you kick your ass up to do something for others, and lose (forget) yourself in it. I don't know how to explain it better, but it was pretty practical for me. I just forced myself to get up, showered, fetched my cousin and accompanied her to find boarding house. A little thing we do for other without expecting any benefit in return. Then I forgot about all the lousy feeling and gradually felt better.

So, when you feel lousy, just stop thinking about it and start doing something not for yourself. Well it was just my one trial (or one consciously observed?) and perhaps what I did was very trivial anyway, so how can I propose this hypothesis already? Well, I really don't know, if you want to know the truth (let's start the Holden time now:-P). But, like Holden himself for example, he felt lousy most of the time, but then his turning point started from the time he stopped thinking about himself and did nice things for her little sister Phoebe**. So, it's about love (not necessarily romance) all over again.

Then when I realized this I started to think how people who never feel like they need to do anything for others without expecting return overcome their stresses, or where do they get their nice feelings from. And also, whether or not this doing things for others to feel nice about oneself should not also be categorized as selfishness. I don't really understand this myself, but sometimes it's wise not to over-analyze things either I think:-p

*supposedly it was my mental notes for my elusive tranquility blog which is about to be relocated but the whereabouts until now is still indeterminable
**Holden and Phoebe Caulfield are main characters in The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger I just finished reading

My Grandmother

"Always keep dignity and be true to yourself" Marjane Satrapi's grandma told her on the night before she left Tehran. It was a kind of my moment of truth out of the whole book. The sentence was indeed for me too, but it is the scene: sleeping with her grand mother that really stroke me.

I used to specially request to sleep with my grandma too every time I visited Kediri, a little town in East Java where I was born (hometown of my mother). Nobody would argue anyway, except perhaps my youngest cousin the only one who obviously sleeps with her every now and then (my grandma lived with my aunt's family until she died) since she said grandma's room was cooler and that she would always fan her to keep mosquitoes away. That's how nice our grandma was. Grandma lost her sight due to something I wasn't sure, but nothing really changed about her. I used to pray hard everyday for her to gain back her sight, but it was never recovered until she died. Before she lost the sight, she used to run a shop in a traditional market where we sold apparel products (it's in a traditional market, so nothing really fancy) . Before that, our big family had a small home industry where we made sarongs, and we sold the products in the shop. I used to go with her in becak (tricycle) when I was still so small (kindergarten), I couldn't remember it clearly but the splendid feeling was never gone.

When she lost the sight I couldn't really tell how she felt, because I was still small (and probably my empathy and sensitivity senses were not completely developed yet) and I was already moved to Solo, and only saw her every holiday. But I really prayed for her five times a day or more. I didn't know why it affected me so badly, her losing sight. To me then, it was like the most horrible thing to happen. Then gradually I realized she wasn't that much affected herself, she still laughed and sang (those slow-calming Javanese songs), and was all the way talkative. She would always commented or responded to any conversation she heard, sometimes it made my aunt (her youngest child who took care of her) irritated, well I notice that's the way old people do, always want to get involve in everything. But it really amused me though, I loved her so much naturally. When I was in a relationship with a guy for the first time in my life, it's her whom I told first. She was more attentive than my mother. I had difficulty to discuss my most personal business, i.e. love life to any member of my family (I couldn't figured out why it's never easy to talk about love and romance in my family). Therefore, I couldn't really tell why I got to tell it to my grand mother. I couldn't quite remember now how the discussion was, but I knew I would really remember that it is her, my favorite secret keeper.

When she died, I was already a big girl and working. I literally stumbled and fell down on something I couldn't really remember now (not fainting and all, just sort of losing balance for a second or two), and cried all the way to get home early. That was the first sad moment I experienced of losing someone whom I really love. I didn't attend the funeral though since at that time plane was not a simple luxury. By train surely I wouldn't catch the moment anyway.
She died suddenly, fell down while she just finished her morning shower. It was not an accident I believe, since as a blind person she knew by heart her ways around the house, she must have lost her balance or consciousness or something. She died without pain I believe, and she died on a friday, a day that is believed to be the holiest day in my religion.

Rhythms of Broken Heart

Lately my rhythm has been around John Mayer and John Legend. What's up with these two Johns and good lyrics. Listen to these:

John Mayer's:
I'm Gonna Find Another You:
" It’s really over
You made your stand
You got me crying
As was your plan
But when my loneliness is through
I’m gonna find another you ... "

When You're Dreaming with a Broken Heart:
"When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for the moment you can't hardly breathe ..."

John Legend's
Save Room:
"This just might hurt a little
Love hurts sometimes when you do it right
Don't be afraid of a little bit of pain
Pleasure is on the other side ... "

It just so happen that all of them are about broken heart, it doesn't necessarily mean I'm in that particular state of mind...yea right, drama queen :-P

Taste, Book, and Fashion

I can say we can almost judge people by their taste. But it should be a taste that is established based on the process of mind cultivation and knowledge. For example when I look at my self over the course of time, I see a clear development of taste, which now I presume also reflects my growth. In my early adolescence I read books from Sidney Sheldon to Karl May. I know, it was Sidney Sheldon and I thought I was cool already :-P But I would still say I was advanced than the rest of my friends who were still dwelling with their Enyd Blyton series, or with no books at all. I love Enyd, and as a matter of fact, I would perhaps still enjoy a Sidney Sheldon book, I just don’t buy it, if I like to indulge such a guilty pleasure, I decide that I would just borrow it.

Now, after a busy-with-social-life period of my life, this couple of years I have gone back to books. And when looking at my bookshelf now, I couldn’t help but wonder on how far my choices have evolved. And they do reflect a gradual-profound change inside. Let’s see, I have moved on from enjoying Amy Tan (years ago) to Arundhati Roy to Garcia Marquez, to Jhumpa Lahiri, and now still obsessed with finishing the complete series of Jane Austen’s novels. I have, in between, spiritual thingy books, most of them left unfinished, like Rumi and Bhagavad Gita (but hey, spirituality is understandably fluctuating, isn’t it) and now want so bad to taste a bit of JD Salinger (quite late, now I know, but still, I don’t want to get even older before I can get a grasp of Franny and Zooey). I also have Soseki Natsume and Virginia Woolf, which I couldn’t finish even after several trials, but not quite giving up yet. And among those which are not even started are Haruki Murakami and Kazuo Ishiguro. I can’t quite name all those books in the shelf, but that’s pretty much my collection now which I expect to stand to the test of time, and not wanted to be erased from the memory of having collected them.

I buy books like I bought clothes during the time I got obsessed with fashion not so long ago, with passion. I was ecstatic when I found a Toni Morrison and a Natsume Soseki in mint condition for only 35 thousand in a second hand bookshop in Bandung. Couple of weeks ago, I was having a weekend in Bandung and I did not, I repeat … DID NOT visit any single FO …horrayyyyy!! I can almost kiss myself for that. So instead of roaming around Dago or Riau for some pieces of Marc Jacob’s or Michael Kors’ knock-offs, I went to readinglights, where they sell imported magazines and second hand English books, and plus they have a shinsetsu-goodlooking-bookwormic SA, who passionately tried to look for another Soseki Natsume for me. He must have landed in his dream job for being that nice to customer.

When it comes to fashion, I don’t know how to describe my taste. I remember a dear one was saying at first he found my outfits were weird (note: I already used layering even before I went to Japan) but then he grew to like them. I do follow fashion trends to the degree of having it for knowledge purpose so that I know what to choose from. I dare to try something new and sometimes cross some lines and risk myself a faux pas (but never with regrets since at least I gain knowledge of whats-not to wear again). If I have to describe my taste in fashion in short, it’s like this (provided money is not a constraint): I would rather buy a beautiful one-of-a-kind Batik or fly to Hanoi to buy Vietnamese’ cheap but lively crafted hand bags than splurge on a premium designers’ dress or a branded bag with obnoxious monograms.