Cheating is Allowed…. on TV.

I’m appalled at the amount of adultery and disrespect of marriage messages actually found in popular TV series. And why oh why, I ask, does it have to be on my favourite shows?

Warning : this post may contain spoilers of Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, and Gossip Girl.

So I just finished watching Glee ep 13 last night and the last scene of the fall finale was Mr Schuester, the protagonist, kissing Ms Pilsbury, the “will-they-or-won’t-they” girl for Mr Schuester on screen. I guess it’s “they will” now.

Problem is? Mr Schuester is married. Well, for now, anyway. He proudly proclaimed that he’s leaving his wife on the day of Ms Pilsbury’s supposed wedding.

Oh, so just because you left your wife you’re free to kiss another girl?

I’m pretty sure that a lot of Glee lovers were cooing “Awwww” at the scene but to me it was a disgusting scene.

Pardon me, but I was not raised believing marriage is “I love you so let’s try out and see if this works and if I’m not happy we’ll just leave each other” thing. It’s not even a continuation of years of infatuation and butterflies and gazing into each other’s eyes. It’s a commitment, sealed for life. Isn’t it obvious from the vows? For better of for worse, through good times and bad times?

I remember spending 5 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy cursing in my head, telling Meredith and Derek to just break up for good. (As Grey’s Anatomy viewers will know, they break up and patch up a million times) I don’t know whether the fact has been blurry because it’s not even mentioned again for 5 seasons, but Meredith and Derek started out when he was still married. Yes, Addison, Derek’s then wife, cheated on him, but did that really give him a license to go have a one-night-stand with some chick in a bar AND THEN eventually “marrying” her? (Sorry, vows on a blue post-it don’t quite cut it for me) I’m sorry to say this, but dammit, keep your dick at its place before you get done with divorce and everything!

I’m quite pissed that the media portrays those adulteries as okay, manageable, fine, whatever thesaurus you can put here. What exactly is the intention? If those shows keep doing this, there will be no surprise that the divorce rate in the USA and probably the rest of the world will keep going up. Oh sorry, it’s already happening now? Maybe later people will not want to get married anyway – too much trouble just for legalizing commitment and sex eh?

My stand is – sometimes marriages don’t work. It’s true. But according to your vows, you’re committed to work the kink out. But obviously, not by having a relationship when it’s all chaos. Seriously, why add oil to the fire?

Endnote: I just realized the same theme is ongoing on Gossip Girl – Serena with Tripp.

The End is Near

As cliche as it may sound, it’s true.

My years in SMU (and possibly Singapore) is ending. In approximately 7 months, I will receive a fancy-looking scroll, take photos in my big baggy regalia, and throw my square hats to the air.

When I first came to SMU, I was 17. I thought I was ready for everything – I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do yet. I thought within 4 years, something, somehow, would come to me and I would steer my way to that.

But nuh-uh. Not quite. Sadly.

When I first tried my hands on programming/coding, I couldn’t figure it out for the life of me. Then more stuff came about networking, information security, enterprise integration, architectural analysis, more network infrastructure, etc etc etc. I thought maybe I should just find my feet. Maybe it would get better.

It didn’t.

Year after year, I spent my years in SMU (still) trying to find out what I should do in life. I kept doing everything I want. I blogged actively and became active in a blogging scene. I joined a choir and sang with them in a myriad of performances. I even tried out to become a songwriter – my song was showcased in a musical play in 2008. I managed a gamelan (Indonesian music ensemble) club. I did two internships. I did a web design/development one, and then I did an online marketing (as account executive) one.

I kept waiting for that one moment when, at the drop of a hat, I feel some butterflies – when I feel that this is what I want to do. This is what I’m supposed to be doing. This is what I’m glad to be doing now – and many years to come.

It didn’t come.

So right now, as the end is looming, I’ve given some thoughts that there are two things that I can do right now.

1. Keep trying different things. Even if I don’t like it, at least I’ll know what I’m not supposed to do.

2. Choose. Separate the sheep from the goats. And make peace, be at ease with whatever my choice is.

Right now, I know my time is running out to try even more different things. Honestly? After 20 years, I’m tired. My parents were great to give me a lot of opportunities to try and do different things. But I’m tired now. I’m 20, I’m about to graduate from university, I suck at school, and I have no direction where to go.

So the next best thing is to choose. Yet I don’t know what to choose, what to do for many many years to come. How can I plan for those years to come if I can’t even decide what to do immediately after I finished all my classes in SMU? Should I go to China to study Mandarin? Should I go back to Jakarta and enjoy relaxed life before working life? Should I stay in Singapore and try to find a job immediately?

Hell, I can’t even plan on what to eat tomorrow.

PS: If you see a lot of idioms scattered around this post, this is because my professor suggested me that I should practice on using more idioms. I’m glad that she actually likes my writing, but she said my grammar and use of idioms let me down. So this is the best avenue to practice!

Before you know it…

Drafts written, saved, and never being looked at again.

Logged in, logged out.

Pages seen.

Inspiration came, inspiration gone.

A month has gone by!

What can I say? Same as you, I’m effing tired of saying I have no inspiration, and that I’ll write some other time, some other day, like years from now?

I’m effing tired of not admitting that microblogging has seriously taken over my blogging.

I’m effing tired of keeping this blog.

Maybe before you know it this blog will be gone.

I’m Voting (and you’re probably not)

In case you’re so ignorant, my dear fellow Indonesian readers, Indonesian presidential election is being held right now as I speak (type).

I should have written this piece long ago, I know. But what do you expect of me? Thank you 20 visitors who came yesterday

As I’m now over 17 (and subsequently have left the teen years. Nooooooo ), I’m eligible to vote and I WILL vote.

The golput (golongan putih – white party, the people who did not vote despite being eligible) was a shocking 29.1 percent of the eligible voters list. I do not know why. Perhaps some couldn’t do it because they live in a remote area where travel to the nearest ballot box is hard. Perhaps they have some disabilities hindering them from voting. Physical and mental alike. These are perhaps-es. But I do know some people chose not to vote.

Because (they said) one vote will not make a change. Because one vote doesn’t matter. I tell you what, my friend. Maybe it doesn’t. But 29.1 percent of 171,265,442 (that’s the total number of eligible voters) means 49,677,776 so a big HELLO! It matters! (statistics from kompas, btw)

So I don’t understand, my friend. And yes this is especially directed to you guys who call yourself my friends. If you are my friends at this stage, most of you should at least be in a university. So I have a right to call you educated. You’re educated, so I don’t understand why you will let the so-called uneducated people whose votes are dependent on how much money the campaigners give them decide your country’s president.

I know one thing for sure. I don’t want to be a part of approximately 40 million people (after substracting people who might have valid reasons – in my own opinion) who are ignorant and do not want to be a part of making a better country to live in.

Perhaps it’s not time for CHANGE yet. However I believe in hope of a BETTER place.

I’m getting off my chair now to go to the Indonesian Embassy in Singapore to register my vote.

While some of you can rot.

To Be Thankful pt 2

Part 1

I stared at this boring “Write Post” page for so long, not knowing what to write. So I killed time by talking to my friends via MSN (something I rarely do after Plurk came, but then Plurk is getting boring nowadays). Then my friend Owen gave me this idea to write about how thankful I should feel.

I feel thankful that I still got an internship.

My internship time is not an easy one. I work in an agency where clients keep coming with new work (via my supervisors) and tons of other things to do. Of course, I bitched and moaned, I broke down, I felt like giving up. Seriously I feel physically and emotionally tired everytime I go home. (speaking of home, I have already moved to a spanking new place!)

But Owen told me a number of our friends who still don’t have an internship. And let me tell you, they are the fabulous ones, the ones with high GPA, the highflyers. Me, I’m a mere neither-here-nor-there SMU student, with pathetic GPA. (and please don’t say “Oh come on, you say it’s pathetic but it’s 3.+++ right?”. No it’s not.)

And so I’m blogging this. To remind you. If you are the ones who have jobs but hating every single minute of it. That your job is something you have to treasure, to be thankful of. And also to the ones who are still struggling to find jobs. It’s ok, there will be a fit for you somewhere. Probably not in an MNC, probably not in a big bank with fat check, probably not with a super cool package and long leave days. Don’t stop trying.

Remember to say the simple word. Thank You.

What’s inside your Bible? (or any holy scriptures)

I remember years ago when I was in junior high school, I borrowed a book from the library titled (if I’m not wrong) “Kisah-kisah yang Menyentuh Hati”/ “Touching Stories”. It is said to be a book that compiles stories that are frequently referenced by priests/preachers/basically any religious leaders.

I remember years ago I chanced upon this particular story. It was titled “What’s Inside Your Bible?”. So inside the story was a little boy who was asked by his Sunday School teacher about, well, what’s inside your bible. The answer should have been obvious. Words of GOD. Or perhaps rather 66 books of scriptures (with 1189 chapters and 31101 verses in King James version. I’m pretty sure the Indonesian version has loads more than that). The boy answered “There’s my Mom’s shopping list, a picture of my sister’s boyfriend, Dad’s stuff, Grandma’s stuff” (can’t remember what the other stuff was).

As I’m going through my stuff to pack them up (I’m going to move out in a week), I found my bible. Somebody (I think it was one of my parents – Dad or Mom, I’m not sure. It could have been my then already-Catholic uncles too) bought me this Bible on February 12th 2000 (yes I wrote it in the Bible along with my name, my address, and my phone number). As per Catholic tradition, the Bible was supposed to be blessed by a priest. To anticipate that the 11-year-old me wrote “Date of blessing:” just below the “Date given:”. To cut my “lost period” stories short, I never got the bible blessed.

When I was in junior high school too, there were always daily bible and reflection readings everyday. It was a Christian school so yeah. Students took turns everyday. Everyday there would be a group of students that are responsible for that day’s daily tasks, including cleaning up the whiteboard and the readings. One student will do the opening prayer, one student will read the bible, one student will read the reflection (we read Saat Teduh, Indonesian version of The Upper Room), then one student will do the closing prayer.

Everyday, there would always be one highlighted verse of the Bible. Each day, for about 2 or 3 years (I think I stopped after a while but I can’t remember), I would highlight those verses in my Bible. As the result, the pages of my Bible now are gleaming in different shades : blue, pink, yellow, orange, etc. depends on what colour of the highlighter I owned at that time (or the highlighter I borrowed from a friend).

I attempted to read the Bible from front to back once but failed. I think I stopped at Genesis 27. Really low motivation that time, I guess. As I was reading, I highlighted a lot of verses along the way too.

Not only highlighted verses, I also found a lot of bookmarks. Bookmarks that were given to me in Sunday School, a bookmark that I made myself at an arts and crafts class (I guess), and some handmade bookmarks I made from scrap papers – containing mostly mushy messages about my love for my boyfriend that time.

My point -and the story’s point is : a Bible is not only a book containing words by GOD or a collection of 66 scriptures. It’s a part of your life. Too often a bible is seen as the holy book, decorated nicely and left untouched. Or it is only used at special events. What good can unheard words of GOD do to you then?

Take your Bible and make it yours. 

So what’s inside your Bible? (Or Koran, Tripitaka, Weda, etc.?)

Photo by nyello8 available under CC BY License

Indonesian Chinese

Indonesian Chinese
Chinese Indonesian
Chindo
Indochina
Cokin
Tong ngin
Tionghoa
Cina

There are a lot of things people use to call me and similar people : a person of Chinese descent/ancestry who was born and raised in Indonesia.

But in English-speaking world, I always choose to call myself “Indonesian Chinese”.

Sometimes I don’t use it at all, fearing discrimination or sorts. But most of the time, I’m proud of using it. Really.

Never mind about the grammatical rule or anything. Perhaps it should have been Chinese Indonesian, since an adjective should be placed in front of a noun, yes? But then both Chinese and Indonesian can be both adjectives or nouns so.. I don’t know. I’ve found at least two books in SMU Li Ka Shing Library about people like me using different terms : Chinese Indonesian or Indonesian Chinese.

But I chose to use Indonesian Chinese because of this : I’m always an Indonesian first, then a Chinese. Chinese is merely my ancestry, my heritage. Granted, I grew up in a Chinese culture too, being always pushed for the best and punished for being ordinary. But above all, I consider myself an Indonesian. Always. And will always be. (okay honestly I should see in some years’ time, that if they continue to make it difficult for me to travel overseas just because of my citizenship, i’ll seriously consider changing citizenship for practical reasons)

I know May 1998 incidents might have supposedly made me against my country and the so-called indigenous people (how can you say I’m not indigenous too when I was born on the same land as you?). But I didn’t. I don’t know why. I can list a lot of cheesy reasons like how Indonesian nature captivates me, how I love Indonesian food, how Indonesian people are so friendly, and the blah. But no. I love my country, and just like any other type of love, does it really need a reason?

So to so-called native/indigenous Indonesians that refuse to recognize me and others as Indonesians, remember. Indonesia is a melting pot. Living in a melting pot is not the same with, say, a cupboard? In a cupboard you sit and live together with other things, but in a melting pot, we become one. OK I know cupboard is a silly analogy but you get what I mean (I hope).

Whatever happened to Bhinneka Tunggal Ika, man.

Oh and, no, not all of us are rich. Believe it or not, at my very first room in Singapore, the maid employed in the apartment is an Indonesian Chinese.

And where else did you think your “mi ayam” and “siomay” come from?

photo by Midori

photo by Chandra

I know. Yum.

And to people who think that I’m not Chinese because I can’t speak or read Mandarin or because I don’t do things in a Chinese way, this post is my answer. I’m always an Indonesian first then a Chinese. After all I don’t wanna be a Chinese that demeans and teases other people like you.

To Do Yourself A Favour

We get depressed.

Of course we do. Things don’t always go our way. Right?

Sometimes I find myself in a situation so depressing, I feel crippled to do anything. It’s all so impossible, and I’ll feel helpless.

But now, I think, sometimes I depress myself. It’s not the situation that depresses me, it’s me. Me myself and I. I let the situation depress me. I let the situation bring me down.

I remember one time when there was a CEO giving a talk in SMU. Gah, I forgot his name and his company. But I remember one quote, just that one quote from him. “If you start blaming other things but yourself for your failure, perhaps it’s time for you to do self instropection”.

Ok anyway, let’s just cut this short. I got this idea of “doing yourself a favour” after I finished cleaning up my room yesterday.

So, I finally cleaned up my room. (because a new tenant is coming to view the room) A spring cleaning a year too late. Yes, I have a very dirty, untidy, and disgusting room. (Ok not as bad as this room, but still) It’s a miracle how my boyfriend didn’t complain about it.

The (amazing) truth is, I’m actually a very neat freak person. Ok not as OCD as people who can’t bear see their things move one cm to the right, but I like to keep things in order. Ask people who have travelled with me and ask them how many ziplocs/containers I brought. One for electronic things, one for medicine, one for toiletries, one for make up, you got the idea.

So yeah. I got myself depressed by the state of my room. Things spread everywhere. Dust everywhere. Cupboards covered with dust and whatnots. I can’t find things anywhere. The best thing was I kept blaming the not conducive room for my not effective studying/learning/whatever thing I do inside the room. And also for my insomnia.

But as you might have realized…. The problem is in myself. It was my room, and it was ME who didn’t clean it up. It was me who created the not conducive environment. It was me who caused my own insomnia.

So I did myself a favour. I cleaned up the whole room. Set aside 2-3 hours (per day, for two days) just to make them squeaky clean. I cleaned them from dust. I rearranged my books and my other stuff. I threw away everything I didn’t need. 

The room is now clean, neat, and homey. A bit ironic, though, since I’m moving out next month (and I haven’t got a room because the ones I call always say it’s a bit too early to “promise” me the room).

But anyway. That’s not the point. So please, guys, next time when you are in a depressing situation, think again. Was it really the situation, or was it you that did not do anything to get rid of it? Face it, sometimes it’s really you, and I know it’s hard to accept the truth because having a responsibility to change a situation is daunting. Do yourself a favour. Work to get rid of the situation.

You are in charge of your own pleasure, happiness, and satisfaction. I have nothing to proof this statement but seriously, if it’s not you, then who/what?

Again. Do yourself a favour.