Her Perfect Life [1] : Detachment

The birds were chirping happily complimented the sweet sound of the rain. It was 6.30 in the morning, she opened her heavy eyes lazily. The rain constantly knocked upon her big wide window gently. She smiled, she loved the rain. She wished she could stay in her comfortable bed for the whole day, well she got work to do and she loved her job. 

She took a shower in her small yet sufficient bathroom. This one bedroom apartment was everything she ever wanted. The kitchen was not really big but the bar was a perfect size for two. The living room was enough to accommodate one couch and a medium size TV--even when she did not really watch it. What made her fall instantly with the apartment was the patio, it was also her corner to read and write. A place where she could watch people walk by the canal or just simply sit and did her research or wrote her novel.

After a quick shower, she prepared her day carefully. Did not want to miss anything. When everything were set--she wore her favorite black coat and rode her bike to work. She was so ready to start her Monday, despite of her short grudge when she woke up. She really did love her quiet and free life. Detachment--that what she was made for. Yet, she was not sorry for that.

****

She loved her small city. The ride to her work place was really short and pleasant. The soft drizzles did not even affect her mood--if not improve it already. She felt the mellow alright in her chest but no harm came from it anyway. She passed the downtown, smiled to familiar faces. Maybe they were not familiar enough, but it was okay because she loved this anonymous life. Drama free. She could take care of her life properly and still be happy. On the other hand, she could fulfil every single need her family ever desired--even when she was not with them. At some point, distance was the one who could fix and improve. 

She smiled to herself and let the rain caressed her face. Life's good...

Literally a Woman

Dear Women,

Stop playing victim to get what you want!
Stop with the water works to bring them to their knees!
Stop back-stabbing to bring others down!
Stop just stop being so insecure... because no one above will happen if you get over your insecurity!

Lets learn together.
I am not perfect myself, but I am so tired of this crazy attitude. Especially, if you are doing it for a man.

Gosh!
You worth more than that!

Stop convincing others about your value! If they cannot see it then it is for the best if they're not in your life.
Stop playing dumb to get attention and sympathy! Really? Begging for others' attention. Gosh! You want to be a star? Then work for the spotlight yourself.
Stop offering your body to get love. Love lust love lust. Yes, both are similar L-word however, one will make you feel like a queen, the other will make you feel like trash.
Stop polishing your physic while damaging your inner-self. At the end of the day, beauty is only skin deep. Once you are old and wrinkle, your personality is the one that will preserve your real inner- beauty.

Heavenly... When the fairest also play fair.
The weak is not always the victim.
The strong is not always the perpetrator.
May you and I forever fight our battle fairly...

You are better than being a victim.
You are better than those fake tears.
You are better than that 'slut' label.
You are better than a bitchy queen bee.
You are better than a social climber.
You are better than an attention seeker.

Whatever it is in your head, snap it out!
Get over it! Quit the easy way!
Stop being a drama queen! Start being a tough fighter!
You are way way way more precious than that...and you know it.

Sincerely,
One-Still-Learning-Woman

To Be A Validated Game Changer

Today was the first time I walked through my neighborhood. Usually, I did my cardio work out near the beach or in the jogging track, but today I pushed myself to just walked around my neighborhood. It was really interesting. There were several notes that I took during this unique 'me time.'

First, there was no enough pavement.

Walking was a very rare thing to do here. Most people preferred to ride their motorcycle or car, instead of walking. But lets not kid ourselves and see point one again.

Next, they were staring. Yes, it was an old song about Indonesian culture. People stare. I did not precisely know whether they judged me or just simply...stared. Yet, I could say that it was abnormally normal. That was why, I put earplug on. Sometime I did not want to know what they thought about me when they rudely said it out loud.

However...

I loved the familiarity.

The simplicity of children playing football on the street. Yes, this country needed to open more playground. 

The friendliness between neighbors. Housewives in a common neighborhood tended to go outside in the afternoon, just to gather and talk. Well, one could not avoid the talk of gossip, but then again it was so fascinating. During my stay in America, I did not see that kind of 'gathering'. I thought it was an Asian thing. 

I walked for one hour or so. Soaked up all the familiarity. Today, I took a good distance from my usual habit and saw closer to where I came from.

Then I realized, if I wanted to be one of those dreamers who wanted to change this country, I should first take a closer look to 'what really happen' around me. Tried to put on Indonesian people's shoes, so we will be able to really know what they need truly. Not from the media, not from others...but from my own eyes and experiences.

Indonesia is a complicated country. I could not say it otherwise because there was not point to deny it either. Nothing could be done overnight because every single infrastructure is connected with each other. Sometime when you want to fix A, you should also think about B, C. and even D factors. And when yo want to develop E further, you should also consider F, G, H and so on and so forth. It is difficult but not impossible.

One by one.

Layer by layer.

Expertise by expertise.

However, one thing that we need for sure: a good cooperation between institutions--nope, even with between individuals.

I read an article about Indonesia as The Sleeping Giant in Asia. I discussed this article with my Dad. He said something that made me think a bit harder than usual, "I think there is a great external influence that determinedly restrain our country's growth. Because we have everything in this country!"

We have huge amount of human resources.

We posses ridiculously rich natural resources.

We are located in the most strategic location.

We have (almost) the best kind of weather. (Well, after experiencing -30 degree of winter and huge amount of snow, one should not complain for having sunny days almost everyday)

We are beautiful... Yes, our Indonesia is more than beautiful. Those natural beaches. Those captivating mountains. Those pretty hills. Those forests. Various species of plants and animals. Those rivers. Those caves. Those cultures; Gosh! We are the true combination of over thirty cultures with different languages, tradition clothes and foods. Most off all, we are a solid unification of characters and beliefs. Yet, we are still proudly call ourselves as one...Indonesian.

It is a beautiful country that needs beautiful touches from her people.

Maybe I do not know a thing about how to practically fix this country now. But I will figure it out. And I know that I am not the only one. There are a lot of people out there who are getting tired of waiting. They are (including me) restlessly burning to make a change.

People who are being let down by this country but not flee out of it and judge from afar. People who are being laughed at because others think that they are too naive and too idealist--but hell, it's better to try rather than grumpily waiting and whining. Right?

I know... it's hard to be the game-changer. We are living in a very artificial world. We need to make our name known first so 'they' will hear our voices. In order to get there, we need to go on a long process.

We cannot go directly, it is too dangerous. Breaking the system when you are a 'new inexperience player' is not an option. We need to be an experienced player outside the system first before getting inside and tear the corrupted one into pieces. We need to be patient if we want to effectively fixing the missing jigsaws. 

Nevertheless, I hope that process will not change us...right? Well, as I said, be patient. See the greater goal. It's better to try and fail rather than not trying at all.

And yes, we just haven't met each other yet.

One day!

To those people, I sincerely saying...

"I'll see you on top Indonesian Game-Changers!"

For Those Who are Wondering Silently

"My core ideals and principles do not change, my respect to other's perspective, choice, ideal, and principle does... It is increasing concomitantly with my mind expanding process. See the world as you want, just do not force your 'observation' on others. That's not the legitimate rules."

I wrote this post in response to those negative comments my good friend received due to her decision to undergo a plastic surgery. Honestly, in the beginning I was confuse and concern about her decision because she was already beautiful inside and out. However, I knew she got reasons and considerations of her own. 

Funnily, at the end of the day I realized that it was not about physical beauty. It was not even about the plastic surgery, it was about understanding yourself more and bravely acting based on your own belief--whatever the consequences were. I respected that because it made her happy. It made her glow. 

Easy with that judgmental mind, people. You never know when the situation might be reversed and you are the one being the scrutinized object. Yes, object. And you know why I label it as 'object'; because no one deserves to be judged, unless you sit in front of judges in the court.

So, if you are not a judge... then, no rights are granted to be judgmental.

"Every book has an ending.
 Every song has a last note.
 But we're just pretending that we never gotta go..."

[Tonight by The Sota Boys]

Her Dream Paradox

It was a gloomy afternoon, after a lot of debate with myself whether to go to the exhibition, I finally arrived in the building. I knew I needed to be ready, though. Ready to face him again after all this time... Ah time, I wish it was on my side right now. Unlike before... or the even the time before that.

****

Before

I got several pictures in my shaking hands. I did not know why my hands were shaking when I held them close. Maybe because I was now living my dream, at least partially. I watched how the grey clouds hung upon the afternoon sky--made the situation even more dramatic that it already was. I put those pictures back on my bag, did not want them got ruined because of my stupid lonely tears.

Yes, a girl waited for her bus in the airport, ready to realize her dream but she cried nevertheless. How stupid that sounded? A broken heart made her dumb I guessed.

"I hated Paris..." he said while playing with bunch of printed pictures in his hands. He liked photography so much, he spent almost his whole life to document life, including my dream city: Paris. Yes, like any other girls or maybe even boys, I loved Paris. Oh come on, who did not like Eiffel Tower? And the romantic atmosphere? At least that was what they advertised about this city. 

"Well, I couldn't really comment on that. I've never been there myself, but I think I would liked that city." I shrugged his comment away.

"Umm no, I think you do not just like it--you love it! I can see it in your eyes. You like it so much that you make Paris as one of your must-visit places. Right?" He teased me merciless, as usual.

Blushing, he caught me there. I looked at him curious, how could he know? I voiced my question out loud. Not that it was vital since he could read my mind almost every single time. 

"Because your eyes lite up like Christmas tree when I said that I wanted to show you pictures of France..."

"Did I?!"

"Yep, you did!" He laughed and touched my nose. I tried to act cool by smiling over the small the gesture while in fact, he took my breath away and made my heart beat strangely.

"Today, I would show you pictures of Paris but one day, I will be the one who take you there. Consider it as a kind gesture since you cannot speak even a word of French. Such a shame!"

I rolled my eyes at him, there was no guidelines in this whole wide world for us to speak five different languages like him. Oh him and traveling! I did not even want to try to question why he could speak so many languages.

"Now let's start with the gate of France... Charles De Gaulle..."

As the bus passed upon the small Air France aircraft, I could not help but matched the photograph he took with the actual view until it went away. The first of many pictures that I would like to match--between the reality and the dream he created in those printed images. As sad as it might sound, through the picture I felt that he guided me to live my dream even without him in it.

****

I kept the best for the last. That was exactly my thought when I stepped out from the metro in Bir-Hakeim station. It was 9 o'clock in the evening, but there were still a lot of people there. I tucked my sling bag carefully, did not want to attract any pick-pocket. I did not know what I felt at that time when I walked through Quai Branly. I realized the excitement of Paris had long gone but I guessed it did not stop me to living this partly broken dream.

We sat in a private corner of the unfamiliar restaurant with a glass of Rose in front of us. He did not like Rose, but he ordered us a bottle of it nonetheless. Simply because he knew that I liked it so much. I did not usually drink a lot of wine but today I needed the comfort of it. I knew it was a bad choice of encouragement, but I needed alcohol to make me brave and he did make me nervous, something that he never did before. 

Synchronized with the heavy rain outside, I could feel the gloom loomed over us like a thick unwanted blanket. I watched him carefully, despite of the odd, I tried to memorize everything about him. His face--hazel eyes with slight facial hair here and there, all in the right places. His dark hair was tucked behind as a very short pony tail. I could not help myself but sniffed his scent, his manly perfume tickled my nose gently. He smelled so good, I wished I could snuggle closer and enveloped by him--my favorite safe haven. I wanted to remember every single second of this moment... 

He studied me carefully too. His eyes were so intense. I could read all the feelings he let me see. He was usually so guarded, while I was the open letter he was the one with horribly tight seal. He worshiped privacy like no other but he gives me a privilege to see right through him nevertheless.

I felt our thick wall crumbled into thousands pieces. Surrounding us with unknown and unclassified feelings. We were practically baring ourselves to each other. No more curtain in front of our emotion. It was time.

"What if we were situated in a whole different condition?" I whispered softly, too scared to break the spell.

"You mean in a world without distance ?"

"Maybe..."

He stared at me like I was a lunatic. Yes, maybe I was. I was in the edge of my sanity because life would soon take my safe haven hastily--him.

"But distance is my life and no one can take me away from that. The more I embrace distance, the more I discover things. Even distance was the one who gave me you... If I did not take the decision to pursue my education abroad, we would never meet. Right?"

"No one worthy enough to change your mind?"

"Yes." He answered it without any bit of hesitation.

I felt like there was a high voltage lightning struck my heart.

"Some things are meant to be broken." He said again to respond my miserable silence.

"Even when the bound was so powerful?" I needed to doubt him. I refused to stop!

He looked at me with such intensity that killed all my feeling--I did not know what to react, what to feel at the moment. All those emotions overwhelmed me. Slowly, oh slowly he put his palm on my heart.

"I could feel myself here..."

Without breaking the eye contact, I put my hand over his heart as well.

"As could I..."

"But some things are really meant to be broken..."

And at that time I could hear my own heart breaking, just like the wall that was once guarding it.

Finally, I arrived in front of the mighty Eiffel Tower. Just in time when hundreds of lights were twinkling and blinking. I opened my small sling bag and took the last picture. I matched it with the real Eiffel Tower in front of me. I stared at the picture and ignored the reality that was going on around me. His picture was captivating me. He captured it perfectly and beautifully--even more beautiful than the reality.

Maybe because that he was. He was more beautiful than any reality--he was too good to be true. Like my own personal angel, but guessed no one deserved perfection and no angel belonged to mortal.

Suddenly, all air was taken from my lungs... I could not breath. I could not stand. I sat there...surrounded by people kissing, families hugging each other, friends joking around with wine in their hands. I sat there and cried heart wrenchingly--silently.

I could not believe that I was here, in Paris, under the Eiffel Tower...without him. We dreamed about it together but now, just like what he said... our dream was meant to be broken. He left me with his broken promises scattered around like unfinished jigsaws. Abandoned and forgotten.

I could feel myself swallowed by elegy... A deep elegy that I buried for so long. Now it came back to me. Guessed one could not be strong all the time. I let it out... because this sadness deserved to be felt. At least, I had come this far. I had done my part. For his memory was worth it. Our bound was precious enough... therefore, the sadness that come upon our broken bound was truly deserved to be felt. I just hopped his reasons to forsake me were the same--worth it, because clearly, for him, what we had was not good enough.

Last tears.

I promised...

I whispered it through the summer night. The ironic night of closure. While others celebrated their love in this city, I practically feasted upon my broken heart and conclude my love tale.

****

Now

Prague. I loved this city. I remembered the last time I was here, it was like years ago. I came with a severe broken heart--tried so hard to heal myself. Escaping from home just to erase him or maybe, I just simply made an excuse to cross the ocean and searched for him in his continent. It was crazy actually. But well, what did you expect? Illogical love could always kill your logic.

And now, here I was, arrived in front of the most prestigious photography exhibition in Leica Gallery Prague. Honestly I did not know why I came here myself. Oh yeah right, my boss wanted me to go. As an art curator, it was my job to look for the best art pieces all over the world. I denied my boss several times though, especially after I saw the list of the photographers.

Damn.

I knew that he would be a famous photographer one day. My artistic intuition could see it from the very beginning when he showed those beautiful pictures of his; he made our small college town looked way prettier. I wondered how he turned those simple beauties into something amazing. But now, I especially wondered, what did he look like now? More handsome? Did he possibly cut his hair? My head was basically invaded by these crazy unnecessary thoughts rather than what kind of arts that I would buy this evening.

Well, maybe I should have Googled him in the past.

I chuckled bitterly, stalking him was just off the list. Listening to someone said his name was already hurt like crazy, left alone stalk his social media or google him. I literally would be dead if I discovered him with his conquests. Or even only merely knew that he had a completely happy life, while I struggled.

I shook those bad memories away, I refused to dwell in. It had been two years. I believed I had changed. Or there would always be a chance that he did not remember about me.

Yeah, keep telling that to your self!

I wished he would not be there. It would be so awkward. But come on, after all these years? Should it be that awkward if we actually meet each other? Well, let's just hope I would not put any interest in his pictures--which also most unlikely.

I sighed, dejectedly. Knowing, there was no way out of this lose-lose situation.

Straightened up my dress, I entered this classy building after giving my invitation to the guard. This private show surely the hottest thing in Prague, since the guests were all dressed up so neat and fancy. There were a lot of people in there--of course, what did I expect? Duh. I had not even met him, yet my logic was already dimmed into a lower level.

The wall was painted grey with a lot of pictures on the wall. In each side, I could see the name of the photographer. I walked further, looking for the main exhibition hall. I did not want to waste too much time, it would be better to see the best pieces and grab it as fast as possible before others had it. Or before I bumped into him.

I could see one picture in the wide wall of the main room. People were swam in front of it, I guessed I should wait for my turn. Patiently, I waited until I was in front of this sensational picture.

I gasped.

I felt time stood still.

I could not breath.

...

It was a picture of me.

I was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, holding his picture to match it up with the actual sight.

Wildly, my eyes searched for the title.

It was written:

His Broken Dream Came True
By: G. Amadeus

He was there.

As soon as the realization hit me like a hurricane, I did not know what happened to me after that. It was like I was witnessing my own self struggling to get out from the crowd--looking for air to breath.

He was there.

He saw me there.

He watched me in my most broken and fragile moment.

I found an empty corner and leaned my self on the clear wall. Clearly, I could not support myself now.

"Malf?"

And then I saw him for real. He was wearing a very fancy suit. His hair was now cut really short, almost like those who were in the army. He stood there, watching me devouring his presence. The man who took my heart away, cherished it just to crush it in the end. The man who bailed on me on our promised Euro trip. The man who let me cried so hard in the airport, once I realized he would not come. The man who did not even show up in our promised country: France.

In short, the man who once broke me severely.

After a torturing silence, he slowly approached me--looking afraid as if I might explode. Which was good because I could even feel it in my skin. My wrath crawled in every inch of it. I tried so hard to calm my emotion down, remembering his main picture in this exhibition. His muse: me.

Stood firmly, I gave him a smile--or so I thought as a smile.

"Hello G, how are you?"  I said harsher than I wanted it to be.

"Great?"

"Of course you are great. How could you not? Knowing that you have been loved too deep back then under the Eiffel Tower? Poor girl, her crazy love was taken for granted."

"Malf..."

"Was it hurt? Seeing me so close to you but you could not even meet me in person? You could not even touch me. Was it hurt?

He kept being silent.

"Answer me? At least I got one answer from out of billions unanswered questions that I have for you."

He stared at me intently.

"Yes. It hurt and still hurts like hell..."

"Good, at least I was not the only one who had my own personal hell. Good luck with your life! Goodbye."

"Malf!" He grabbed my hand.

"Don't! Your time is up, G. Some things are meant to be broken, right? Including my love for you. Funny how I ended that feeling in the city of love, exactly in the moment that you captured in a quite impressive way. I wished you enjoyed the view."

I stared at him. Feeling so numb, I hated it.

"So long my friend. au revoir! Thank you for making my decision easier back then in Paris. Like I said before, good luck!" I said bitterly, ending our unexpected encounter.

And then, I walked away and never looked back.
Or so I hopped.

***HER END***

Not An Ambitious Traveler (5)

I thought it was time to end this blog post series. As cliche it might seem, I would end the story in Paris--like a Hollywood movie or something. There were a lot of thing that I wanted to document about Paris but I realized those stories were definitely not for public consumption. I hated that I was not anonymous enough to write freely about everything. At the end, our identity was the one that restricted our freedom.

When I arrived in the downtown, another city popped in my head. It was New York City. Ah, just like Amsterdam, but Paris was giving me stronger sense of the Big Apple--in European way of course. I could also assure you that it was not a city of love in the daylight.

The highlighted of Paris for me was when I met three amazing women.

The first one was the woman who determined to accompany me in Paris. She was the strongest of them all.

Long story short, we ended up helping each other. Two broken hearts women, walked hand in hand in the city of love that soon changed into city of friendship. I would always remember how we faced Eiffel Tower and both of us reacted in the exact same way: we cried for the broken dream we had about Paris with our loved ones.

On the first night upon her arrival, she was so stressed up with her thesis. Yeah, a broken heart and unfinished school project would never go pretty. Tell me about that. We spent our first night worked on her thesis--tried so hard to find a brand new motivation. It was a great night for me nonetheless, because I adored research and was no longer having any desire to explore touristy places.

I also would always remember the late night we spent in Champs Elysees avenue. We had been so stylish during the day, we ended up in our most comfortable outfit at night. Yes, while people were dressing so fancy, we only wore t-shirt, jacket, and legging with our running shoes without make up on. It was also the reason why we canceled our plan to hang out in a cafe--because underdressed was definitely an understatement that night.

Instead of going to the cafes, we finally ended up going to a drugstore. We planned to drink something at our apartment. She pointed out vodka in the refrigerator, I shrugged it off because for me, vodka was not an option. I did not aware what possessed me, but I walked to yogurt shelf because those delicious looking yogurt seemed so attractive. I took two bottles and strangely, she did the same.

You know what happened next? We sat in the bench near Arc de Triomphe and drank our yogurt. Yes, yogurt was definitely the best substitute beverage on a fabulous Friday night in Paris. We laughed about it out loud, it hurt. It was definitely a night to remember...

She healed me through a unique way: by taking care of her and helping her to hold her life together.

---

In Paris, I also met my friend from Ann Arbor. She was the second woman that inspired me during this visit. She was the loveliest lady of them all.

One thing that I regretted during my stay in Ann Arbor was we never made it for a coffee. But well, we made it up in Paris. So fancy!

It was great meeting her again. She was so dear, I felt a pang of  sadness because I did not give myself a chance to spend time with her more before. Meeting her, brought a new perspective about my current state: hopeless, broken-hearted and feeling so useless. I would always remember how she held my hand and said, "You got more and more beautiful everytime I met you. It was like you are blooming. You are still young, please do not think too much about everything!"

After that, I felt that I could breath easier. It was not too late. There would be something better waiting for me after this impromptu escape.

She taught me to appreciate myself more. That it was okay to be not okay. That I was young! For god's sake I was still young but how could I felt that I had crazy amount of burden on my shoulder.

---

On my last day in Paris, I met the third woman that I adored: she was the coolest of them all. She worked for an amazing international organization and I could not be more proud of her. She was also the one who intoxicated my brain to pursue higher degree in Europe. Oh and she also pushed me to learn French. Joy! Yes, I was being both sarcastic and serious about it.

Believe it or not, it was the first time we met but I felt like we were an old friend already. Talking with her was so addictive--we talked a lot, we regretted I could not stay longer. Well, I was pretty sure it would not be the last time I visited this city, though.

She showed me that we should work on what we want. We should not restrain ourselves to pursue our dreams and settle down just because others demand us to. She taught me so much and I learned that I should not be afraid to dream big because life had its own way to fulfill our dreams as long as we work hard for it.

---

Despite of the unique experience, I have not seen my bestie in his hometown and atmosphere yet! I must go back one day. Moreover, I also have not fulfilled my promise to meet a wonderful and lovely lady from the North too. I have made a promise, so I intended to keep them because I knew how hurt it was when you were being lied to about promise. Human and their words--so unpredictable.

In the afternoon, I left Paris with a strange contentment and fulfillment... It was weird because everything that happened in Paris were beyond my expectation.

It was for the best though... Ah, life and its calculation! Always so surprising.

You, 2015, is and will always full of surprises for me!