Hip Hip Hippie Chick

I'm moving!!!

2011-05-24T21:30:00.005-05:00

I think it has come to me retiring this blog and start a new one.
Bitter sweet and yet, I am ready to have a new blog.
I'll be embracing my real name there. Well... my real nickname.

http://betoalin.wordpress.com/

I'm definitely keeping this blog for my own personal bubbles. Only a few let in. Seven years worth of scribbling I would love to be able to come back here and look back at my life and thoughts.

And, no... no good byes. I hate good byes, makes me all choked up and teary eyes.
I shall say, I will see you there in a bit.

Kane, Chocoholic and Scal, you guys are my blog soulmates.

The Non Eventful Super Bowl

2011-02-06T21:17:00.000-06:00

So what?
I'm not a football fan and I don't care about Super Bowl.
Instead, I made four dishes for the next few days so I don't have to cook after work. I made Gule Nangka, 'pork' steak, soup with kielbasa 'sausages' and rice porridge.

Being an introvert, I love Sundays when I don't see anyone but my husband. He told me that I have a big privacy bubble and that I always feel that people are stepping into my personal bubbles all the time (except with him).
He's right. I am an island and I am okay with that.

Now, the extroverts think that their presence is always welcome anytime, like they welcome everyone, anytime.
See the problem here?

So... that's why I love Sundays, that's when everything is so quiet and I can hear myself think.

The Day I Turned 34

2011-02-05T10:04:00.002-06:00

I love Saturday mornings.

This cup was a gift I chose myself when my sweet Brazilian friend, Tarcia, gave me a birthday gift card for Starbucks in December.
Since I despise coffee,... I bought something non-caffeinated.

This was a blank mug that came with a pen for you to write anything you like. So, I wrote a day journal about my birthday.

Good morning, Sunshine!

2011-02-04T20:21:00.005-06:00

I'm so glad to see the sun light this morning. I know what my dog, who loves to sun bathe, is going to do today.

And I am even more glad that this is Friday.

Chinese New Year

2011-02-03T22:09:00.001-06:00

Although I don't exactly celebrate Chinese New Year, I like to eat out and I will find reasons to dine out. So we 'celebrated' by going to this one Chinese place which we haven't been to for more than a year. So, imagine my surprise when the owner of the restaurant greeted us by saying, "Oh, hi. Happy new year! You are the vegetarians, right?"

She must have photographic memory.

Wow.

Aftermath

2011-02-02T14:14:00.002-06:00

The snow blizzard passed. I woke up and logged on to work and shoveled the snow.
And Tarcia my Brazilian friend came to spend the night.
I'm going to make some Martabak manis, a recipe that I have yet to master. But I WILL PREVAIL!!!!! Even if I make my husband 20 pounds heavier.

Feb 1, 2011 - Snow Blizzard Started

2011-02-01T20:19:00.003-06:00

I worked from home in the afternoon today. The news have been warning us about a storm coming our way and it's going to be a whiteout.
What is a whiteout? I had no idea. So, I wiki-ed it and this is what is said: Whiteout is a weather condition in which visibility and contrast are severely reduced by snow or sand.

This picture was taken this afternoon, when the snow just started, we'll see how high it is tomorrow.

As much as I think snow is so beautiful, I'm hoping that there's not a lot of accidents happen because of it. Cars with bald tires can just slide down to a pole with this weather conditions. I hate accidents.

A picture A day

2011-01-31T18:46:00.006-06:00

Inspired by my friend, Jenny, who's an aspiring photographer, for the whole month of February, I'm going to take a picture one per day and post it here. Along with a little update on how my day goes.

Today is not yet February, but here's a preview for January 31st, 2011:

For dinner today, I made arugula wheat crust pizza with roasted red peppers.

Today during lunch time I went to the gym downstairs and ran for 1.5 miles. I was so out of shape it was quite embarrassing. But, while running I saw that reality show, Bridalplasty, on TV. A show about a bunch of girls competing to win a fully paid wedding AND plastic surgery.
Wow... this show surely made the word 'shallow' has a whole new meaning.

Novice Runner... I Mean, Jogger.

2010-12-13T20:44:00.004-06:00

The past month has been super duper boring at work.
And I'm still at the same place. Static and bored. I'm thankful for my job though. It could be worse.
But you know what, I signed up for a 5k run and I ran on Thanksgiving morning with my husband and my best friend, Kim.
It was a cold and gloomy morning, about 35 F - 40 F and I came with layered clothing (a long sleeves shirt, a hoodie sweater, a wind breaker jacket). And I put on a hat with ear flaps (thanks Roomie for that hat you gave my husband like 8 years ago.), and I had 2 layered pants.
When I got there I saw a bald guy with shorts, sleeveless shirt and no hat.
I was like... what the hhh...???
And he's not the only one.
There were about 4 thousands people joining this 5 k run. Young kids, moms with strollers, serious runners, teenagers people with their pets and newbies (like me!).
Let me tell you something. I am nowhere to be called a runner. According to my husband, I did not run, I 'jog' (rolling eyes).
I am not fast enough to claim that I 'run'. I finished the 5 k in 43 minutes and 26 seconds. I was person number 2500 something from the 4000 people. And I think the rest of them weren't even trying, while I huffed and puffed to the finish line.
Let me tell you a sort of different kind of participants who passed me by: Teenager girls whom I had been trying to pass for 10 minutes. They ran passed me by, giggly and effortlessly, when they saw a free donuts stand ahead. People with their pets. Eight to nine year old kids. A mom with a twin stroller (I kid you not).
But it was fun, and actually addicting. I think I like this running (jogging) thing.
It's too cold and slippery to run in the snow, but who knows... maybe one day, I will actually run a marathon.
Hm,.. maybe in 2020.

Rant

2010-11-10T20:22:00.002-06:00

Today, I learned that a coworker who was just joined the team last year, whom I interviewed, got a raise.
On his yearly performance review a few weeks ago, my back boneless boss told him that there are no raises this year for anyone.
Ever since, the performance review, he nagged the heck out of my boss.
And so today, he got a raise.
I didn't know that nagging works. And I didn't know that raises is based on the level of nagging that you need to do to your boss. I thought it was based on your freaking performance.
Silly me.

Silly BlueCactus.

I went home feeling disgusted by my boss. Michael from 'The Office' might be comical, but having a boss like that in real life makes you hate yourself for hanging around and do nothing about your career.

I really feel like s***. And I am furious that I am letting this happen.
No, not the raise that my coworker got. That I don't care. But that I'm letting a crappy job holds the advancement my career. That I'm not fighting for my rights. That I hold on to this job which should have paid me thousands more bucks per year.

Basically for losing the gumption that I once had in life.

So I went home, put on my running shoes and I ran. I ran outside, in the dark, alone, in the cold.
I'm seriously considering running for the marathon.
I'm done sitting around being a couch potato watching Grey's Anatomy reruns.
Stupid TV.
It's just a hindrance and distraction from greater and better things in life.

I know finding a job is tough nowadays, but I'm gonna give it a try. This means I need to study, because in this IT world, an interview means a hard-core session of pop-quiz.
And I'm going to nail it.
Damn it.

Pardon my rant today, guys.

I need an outlet.

Uh Oh...

2010-11-06T20:07:00.003-05:00

Today I just agreed to my husband to train for the marathon.
I don't know what I was thinking and if I can do it.
But, I think I'm going to give it a shot.
If Sarah Palin or Oprah or P Diddy or George Bush can do it, chances are... I can too.

Mrs?

2010-11-04T20:14:00.003-05:00

BTW, As I was playing around with my blog settings and stuff, I suddenly realized that I put myself as Ms. Blue Cactus, a looongg time ago.
I guess, now that I am a missus and I have to change it.
Huh... the little things in married life that caught my attention...

Wrinkle Cream

2010-11-03T22:09:00.004-05:00

In less than 2 months, I will be 34 years old.
Yes, I am approaching my mid thirty era. I found myself feeling disappointed when in some survey I have to choose my age bracket as: between '32 - 40'. And I found myself feeling light and joyful answering a survey where my age bracket is between '26 - 34'.

My mom, she's sixty something. She has all these excruciatingly expensive cream jars lining up on her dresser. Night cream, day cream eye cream, toner, serum, wrinkle cream and many many more.
When I called her last week and the subject of expensive cream came up, I told her that I don't wear any cream. Except one. A $7.00 cream jar that I bought from the drug store. It works for me and so I'm sticking with it.
There was a split second silence followed by an exclaim "Astaga...", which if translated freely in English would basically mean: "Holy cow..."
She has hundreds of dollars worth of cream.
She said, she's using a $650 cream. One tiny jar of cream.
Wow.
She said, buy something more expensive. I said, why? The $7 one works.

I don't wear powder or foundation. My skin is bare except of that transparent cream.

Is using $7 cream considered being cheap?
But also, is using $650 cream considered vain? Maybe I don't understand it just yet. I should wait a few more years and revisit this post. See if I jump and call my mom asking the name of that cream.

I have been watching my eyelids lately. They are the wrinkliest than have ever been. I once told myself, when the time comes, I want to grow old gracefully.
This means no Botox. No collagen injection. No plastic surgery. No nip tuck.
I'm wondering what the category of a $650 jar of cream would be. In the same bucket as Botox & nip tuck?

There has got to be something 'magical' in that little jar. I wonder what. And I guess I will have to buy it to find out.
Or... maybe... not.

Anti-kids? Am I?

2010-10-01T19:05:00.002-05:00

I freaked out last week at my husband's church when a little girl, about 5 year old, came out of nowhere and strangled my leg and asked me, "Do you have a baby?"
I guessed she meant do I have any kids.
She completely hung tight to my legs and she leaned on my tummy.

And I just freaked out with this foreign object, uhm, I meant kid, attached to me.
I tried to loosen up her kung fu grip while answering "Uh, no.... no I don't."

She looked at me, puzzled. I guess that's because no one has ever tried to get away from her hug.
While, I thought, well, there's always the first time for everything.
Then I got away.

I hope God does not punish me and make me barren.
I sincerely, humbly, hope.
I just don't know what to do when kids cling to me, expecting me to 'mommy' them. Actually, there's this rejection inside me when they do that.
A female coworker calmed me down when I told her this story. She said that the little girl was a stranger to me, hence my reaction. But if she were my own kid, I would have welcomed her.
Thanks, Irene (my coworker). She would never read this blog, because she doesn't know this blog exists. But that really calmed me down.

It means that I'm not anti-kids.

I'm just not the motherly type of female. Maybe one day, when I have kids, things will change.
But for now, I'm okay and I can live with the label of she-who-freak-out-around-kids. :)

New England Trip

2010-09-12T21:18:00.006-05:00

I just had a vacation from New England with my husband and my maid of honor.
Two of my very few best friends in the world.
We flew to Boston then drove around for 6 days visiting a Forest park, National park, mountain, sea shores, peninsula, the Atlantic Ocean, a gay town, modern city, quaint towns and... last but not least: an outlet mall.

We drove the top of the mountain to star gaze, then again to see the sunrise, then we dipped our feet in the Atlantic Ocean, walked to a different island on foot during low tide, I ate seafood (which is rare!), cruised to see the whales, dined outdoor, contemplated on seeing a gay nude show (but decided not to), and... last but not least buying t shirts in almost every place we went just like a true tourist would do.

I love traveling. I have been the traveling energizer bunny this year, I went on three vacations and finally my husband said that he thought we have had enough vacation for this year.

Some interesting things to share on my latest vacation:

I love Boston.

If ever I have the chance to chose between living in Chicago or Boston, I think I would pick Boston. And that says a LOT, considering I love my Chi-town. But Boston was just wonderful and I love the smell of the sea.

The locals in New England have a different accent. The 'R's just seem to disappear. Like saying Baa Ha Ba for Bar Harbor and Hahvahd for Harvard.
It's cute.

We went to this vegetarian restaurant near Harvard and I just love my dish. They have bacon tempeh. It made me re-think about my whole career path because I have always wanted to have my own business. Maybe I should open a restaurant?
Food for thought. No pun intended, hehe....

We also went to Acadia National Park. At night we went up to the top of the mountain. Having always been living in big cities, I have never seen the sky so dark that all the stars shone sooo brightlly. Made me feel so small and appreciative of the beauty of the universe.
My cheeky husband kept on talking about the possibility of a Blair Witch jumping from behind the pine trees on the drive up to the top of the mountain, trying to scare us girls. The pitch dark route was quite creepy without him even saying anything. But looking back, it was drive quite thrilling and fun.
We went up there again in the wee hours in the morning, wanting to catch the sunrise. They say the people who sees the sunrise from that top of the mountain are the the first people who sees the sun in the US, since that Acadia is on the on the very east of US. We went there thinking that we would be the only three people there.
Not.
About 50 more people are already there, ready with their camera and tripods. A bunch of Asian tourists too, going to the very front and block people's view. Heh heh....

Then we went to Provincetown in Cape Cod and went on a cruise to see the whales.
Provincetown is a gay town. The rainbow flags were everywhere. Handsome handsome men walking around, but I think even if I walk buck naked there, no one would even notice.
Or they would and say: Honey, you need to workout and get rid of that 'muffin top'.
I love the town though, I really enjoyed my short time there.
I want to go back there one day, and maybe do another whale watching cruise.
There in Provincetown, I had the best fish dish ever in my life! It was their today special, grilled blue fish.
Oooh.. the fish just melted in your mouth, it was excellent.
Sigh...

Some things I brought back from my vacation were some sea shells, and 4 pounds of fat.
My bag's smelly from the seashells, and my pants are tight.
But it was all worth it.

The Maid Enigma in Jakarta

2010-09-12T15:01:00.013-05:00

It is kind of weird that I miss being in Jakarta during the Idl Fitr holiday since I'm not celebrating it. I miss the food especially. I guess that's why. And even though I no longer eat meat, I still reminisce how wonderful the food is during the holiday.

I called my mom last week and found out that her maids were going back to their villages for the holiday and my mom was telling me how hard it is not having not a single maid in the house.
She had to hire another temporary maid for Rp. 100,000/day for two weeks.
Huh, that's quite expensive.
I also saw a lot of Facebook postings by my friends about how they will have to bust their butt off while the maids are not around and how tired they are, bla bla bla.

Well... I don't have a maid here. I cook, clean up, do the laundry, walk the dog, and have a full time job.
My husband helps a great deal, though, so we divide the work pretty evenly, but the point is, I have no maid for the whole year. Period.
And my house chores are not bad. My American friends with kids and full time jobs have even a worse time than me and they are surviving. Yes, it is tough, but they are okay.

I see it's really questionable how much dependency the Jakarta residence has when it comes to maids (and nannies for those who have kids). Think about this: The maid recess period only lasts about 14 - 30 days of the 365 days/year, as oppose, like me, I got no maid for the whole 365 days.

I know how convenient it is having some help around the house. I lived in Jakarta for 23 years and I was very dependent to maids too. I threw my jeans on the floor, the next day it is back in my closet. Clean. I speaketh " I want some oxtail soup," then in a few hours, it's ready.
But here, when I cook, I have to chop my own vegetable, when I stain my white dress, I have to clean it up and wash it up myself. After my dinner, I wash the plates that I used. I clean my own bathroom. In fact, when I went home to Jakarta, I found that it was very uncomfortable for me to ask my mom's maid for something, hahaha... I even tipped them for their trouble before going back here.

Having said that, I have got to mention something funny though. About three weeks ago, on my Facebook wall, I posted that I was excited that my maid of honor is coming to town and that my husband was picking her up.
My cousin in Oregon, misread it and thought that I was excited that my maid is coming and my husband was picking her up.
So, after a long time of absence in communication, she called me, left me an urgent message to call her back. And when I called her back, she so curiously asked how did I manage to have a maid sent here to the US to work for me. She was interested to get one too.

Uhm,... awkward...

It was my maid of honor.... you know... like... hum.. how do you call it,.. bridesmaid when I got married. My best friend. Not a maid.
Then she broke into laughter.

This shows that leaving here does not mean that you are maid resistance.
Some people just love them to death and need them like crack.

Who's that kid?

2010-07-29T22:59:00.003-05:00

My dad sent me an email, he said my mom had a dream. She saw a little child, it is not a boy.
And then my dad asked the question: Who is that child.

Oh... I raised my eyebrows when I read it.
When the last time my mom saw a child in a dream my-sister-in-law got knocked up.
Another time,... my sister.
Coincidence? Maybe...
Superstitious? My dad? Most Definitely. (We are talking about a guy who enjoys palmistry)

But I KNOW, that I'm not expecting anything (except some DVDs in the mail). And I am not ready yet, to add a new member to my family (although, this is subject to God's will).
So, I replied back to my dad, I said:
Well, I don't know who that little rascal could be. Not mine. Maybe my sister's? Heh heh heh... just kidding.

Then my dad replied back saying... oh,... a little child can also mean good luck.

Ha.
How smooth he maneuver this topic.

So, I replied: Oh, wonderful then.

Case closed.

What's in A Name?

2010-07-20T19:14:00.005-05:00

I thought I knew what I wanted.
I wanted to change my name once I got married.
I always thought that having my husband name is like the combining ourselves together into one family. I even practiced to sign my name with his last name and tried to figure out how I wanted to sign it.
I also knew that changing my last name is a hassle. But I knew that I would want to do it.

My name here in the United States is my first name and my middle name as my last name.
Long story short, that's because of how my full name appears in my birth certificate. So, when I applied for my passport, the doofus who handled my application put my very feminine-obviously-a-girl's-middle-name as the last name. And so when I applied for my US visa, I had to put my middle name as the last name. Just like in the passport.

So, actually right now, I'm without a last name. My last name is my middle name.

My dad once asked if after I got married I'm going to change my name to my last name combined with my husband's last name. You know, just like Hillary Rodham Clinton.
And although I never want to go that route, I didn't tell him. I just said I'm still thinking about it.
But I actually lied.
At that time I was angry at my dad for his blatant attempt to make me do a prenup (failed, by the way). All I wanted to do was to be on my own. Definitely, keeping his last name was not on the top ten my list. Or top two hundreds at that time.

When a coworker asked me a similar question to my dad's, I said, no, I'm going to completely take my future husband's name.
He said, "So, then, you are not a feminist."
I said, "I never was a feminist."

There's this romanticism in my head when I thought about changing my name to my husband's last name. The very long engagement, for four and a half years along with the immigration drama, the wedding dress that was sitting there in my closet, mocking me, made me really long to be a part of him. To be called Mrs. ChicagoDimCorner.
How nice it would sound.

Now, that I am married to him, there's no stopping me. I can change my name. But I no longer feel the compelling need to do so.
If I change my name, people will think that I am a Manadonese.
But... I am a Betawi. I am a proud Betawi. Yes, I am Chinese descendant, but I am a Betawi.
My dad's ancestors landed on East Java then my grandparents moved to Betawi. My mom's ancestors actually landed directly on Betawi land.
My mom and dad lived in Menteng when they dated. One of my grandmas wore the Chinese kebaya outfit on daily basis when she was still alive.
They were true Betawi. They spoke the accent and lingo too.

There's something about adopting my husband's name that makes me think that as if I am turning my back on myself and my family's history.

I still want to be a part of my husband. Very much.
I honestly don't really care much about being a part of his big Menadonese family, as sweet as they can be.
This might sound silly, but adopting my husband's name is more like choosing to be a part of his big family, choosing have the same name as his mom, his dad, his cousins.
But abandoning my parents' name, my brother's name, my nephews' name.

So, I'm standing at this intersection of names: his last name, my last name, combined last name or my feminine middle name as a last name.
And I actually like my middle name as my last name.
It represent me. Just me. Two very feminine names combined into my name. The name that I have been using for the last 9 years.

And that doofus who messed up my passport,... I'm starting to forgive him.
I might even consider stopping calling him a doofus.
Maybe...

I Cut It

2010-06-02T06:58:00.003-05:00

I cut my hair finally.
Nine inches of it. Gone.
I'm sending my hair to a foundation who makes wigs for sick people.

I feel liberated...

And content.

It's over

2010-05-25T23:11:00.012-05:00

I have to say, I am glad that my wedding reception is over.
And hopefully, sooner than later, strangers would stop asking to see my ring. Or to see my wedding pictures. Or to ask how it is being married. Because, I'm not like most brides after they got married, blushing with happiness glowing through every pore of their skin.
I don't secretly wish that people would ask how it was, so I can tell every details of it and share my pictures, and show them my ring.
I am very territorial about my personal life.

But that was nothing, though... the most dreadful thing is (and somehow, I always get this more from people from back home) that they hope and pray that I would have babies soon. I saw a lot of people wished that on my dad's Facebook. That got me pissed.
To be clear, I do not hate kids. But, there's something unsettling about strangers deciding how soon I will have kids.

My wedding was nice. It could have been great, if I plan it just the way I want it to be. But it was a collaborative, joined, event between two big families in two different cultures (believe me when I said two different cultures, even though both families are Indonesian). So, I just have to humbly thank God that there was no blood bath.

And, again, don't get me wrong, marrying my, now, husband, was great.
The greatest part of the whole day was, of course, when I did my wedding vow and shared that moment with my family and closest dearest friends.
Until I unexpectedly cried.
I hate that crying part. I HATE crying in public. I have some pictures with my ugly crying face that might never see the light of day.
But saying my vow is the whole point of the day for me.
It is big. That promise binds the rest of my future and life. It will affect all of my decisions from now on. Because I promised to love, share and honor someone throughout everything, basically. Stick by him through thick and thin.
Even if he becomes fat (thick) and bald (thin) and grow the eleventh toe. Gross, but yep, if he cannot bend to put any kind of ointment on that growing toe, I will have to do it for him.
...
Let's hope that it won't ever happen.
But, if it does... then I'll be there with the ointment jar.

Uhm,... anyway... the rest of the day was fine.
The governor came. He and my dad apparently were buddies in high school. I was annoyed that my dad invited him and made such a big deal about it (security, RSVP, pictures... sigh). I have pictures of him much more than I care to see. A lot of them. Nothing against the governor, but I never want my wedding day to be a show-off arena for my dad. Oh,.. and he invited the ambassador of Argentine too, whom actually he doesn't know very well and only met for a couple of times.
Yeah, another big shot with whom I have to endure special photo session.
After the wedding people asked my husband (and me) if my dad is also a big shot because he knows 'people'. And I have set the record straight with brutal truth to whoever asked me: Nope, he's just a ordinary person with some acquaintances who apparently got nothing else to do on that day.

But, hey, if I continue all of my complaints, this post should be a book with chapters and footnotes.

So I will stop right here.

I am now married ,with a five diamond ring that is slightly loose. Because your fingers apparently are bigger over there then here. Keep that in mind, people.

And I am GLAD the wedding is done and over with. So I can continue with my life quietly, peacefully and privately.
Wilson, if you read this, my perfect day also include very less meaningless conversation, and less... very less... or maybe no people/social interaction.
Quiet cool summer day, soft bossa music, a hammock, long nap under the shades of the tree in my backyard.
Maybe I will do that this weekend.

Sigh... it's so nice to be back home.

Chapter 2: Good Day - Astrologically

2010-04-08T22:27:00.005-05:00

I know... I know...
In Indonesia, they are big with this 'good' day calculation and it is a common thing to do.
Superstition is a big part of our culture.
In fact, if you have an outdoor party, a shaman specialized in taming the rain would be included in the package.... so I heard from a friend. But, I didn't double-check, so I don't know if it is true or not.
Anyway, my dad is big into this kind of thing. Somehow, he thought that he has found the formula for this calculation, based on my chinese zodiac and his chinese zodiac (yes, I kid you not). And he has a list of days that I can choose when would be a good day.
First day that he picked was April 29th.
That's a Thursday.

And at first I thought, they could not find a hotel with vacant weekend, hence the weekday selection.
So, when I realized that this is based on his calculation, I was very annoyed.
Well, he also sent me the calculation but I did not open it.

My problem with picking a day based on the calculation is this: My brother got married on a day that was calculated and picked out 'carefully'.
It did not stop the fact that he was not happy in the marriage.
Another example: My cousin's husband's family picked the day of their wedding based on their astrology. They are also not happy in their marriage.
He has a mistress now, and my cousin is living in hell.

No offense to people who has chosen this path. I am just talking for myself. And keep in mind that my dad is not an actual shaman. He's just a guy with a hobby. And, I cannot sue him for malpractice if he miscalculated.

Most of all , I'm annoyed because: Uhm, hello... please let me and ChicagoDimCorner pick our own wedding day, do you mind? We are both capable of that, you see. There's no need for a third person to make this decision.

So I told my dad, I think it doesn't matter what day I got married, I think it matters to whom I got married.
He was not happy when I said that, but,... there. Take it or leave it.

And so... we are getting married on April 25.
Just, because it is a weekend.
And because that's the date that is still available.
And for me, that would be just perfect.

P.S. I did review the spreadsheet AFTER we picked the date. April 25 2010 is the day of Tiger... whatever that means...

Chapter 1: The Wedding Cake

2010-04-01T19:31:00.003-05:00

I don't know if everyone in Indonesia know that the big wedding cake that the bride and groom cut is fake.
Was I the only person who didn't know this?
You see, there were times in the past that I thought that the cake is real. Somehow, in the back of my head, I thought that the cake was constructed, or whatever to make it stand 5, 7, 9 or even 11 tiers without the bottom layers to be mushed down by the upper layers.
Until, a friend of mine, Edi, told me his experience: Noooo, the cake guy will tell you: Potongnya yg sebelah sini aja ya... soalnya yg daerah sisanya itu gabus. Or in translation: Only cut this part because the rest of the cake is made of styrofoam.
What?!
So I told my mom I want the real cake. It's kinda humiliating cutting a syrofoam cake. It's fake.
But my mom said, okay, but it is going to cost us more.
Really?
To have a real cake?
I mean... I don't want it to be made of gold. Just some flour, butter and eggs.

But, yes. It cost us much more.

So, I thought, okay, let's do the fake one.

Then I looked at some of the pictures.
Man.. those cake are huge.
And I mean HUGE.
I wish I have some time to google the cake. You can fit 3 Marilyn Monroe in there, complete with their boas and equipments ready to jump out any time singing whatever you want them to sing.
I also saw a picture of my friend, again, Edi... when he cut it, he cut the cake with a sword.
Yes. A Samurai.
If only my friend Edi wore yellow outfit, he would've been Uma Thurman in Kill Bill.
When my mom mentioned to the banquet people that I don't want huge cake they said: But madame, with our ballroom's high ceiling, the cake would look very very disproportioned.
Okay, fine... let still make it big, but at least let me cut with a knife.

So I informed this to my Wedding Organizer, copying my dad in the email.

Then I got an email back from my dad, how he thinks that it would not look nice if the cake is not big enough.

DARN IT!
First of all, I compromised not having a REAL CAKE for my wedding. The real one will be in the kitchen. Looking small and sad.
Secondly It's made of Styrofoam. I have to cut it on the exact spot because if I cut it from a different angle I will have to cut it with a chainsaw.
Third, it is going to be big. Who are we fooling anyway (except me, in the past) that it is not real? I mean look at the size. No cake can be this big. There's no oven in this world that can bake a thing that BIG. Everyone knows it's fake.
At leasssstttt, eventhough it is big and fake, let it be big in such a way that I can still cut it with a knife.
A knife.
That's all I want.
And my dad had a say in it.
So that was when I replied back to him saying: Dad, let me cut it with a knife. Butt off. (In a different words, of course, but same meaning).

So, on my wedding day, help me Lord if I see the cake as humongous as an elephant. Someone will have hell to pay.

About the Wedding

2010-03-31T22:25:00.003-05:00

Wilson posted a comment on my facebook about my spidery-webbed blog the other day. :)
That made me realized that I have not been in here for... 3 months.
Well, I have been crazy busy, stressed out, depressed, angry, stressed out, angry again, frustrated about the wedding preparation.
I seriously almost called it off. Not the marriage, just the wedding reception. The guy, I still want to marry, but the reception preparation made me just want to spite everything and let an Elvis marries us in Vegas.
But, that didn't happened. I marched through it, facing all the obstacles with agony, complain, tears and drama but the bottom line is: I'm facing it.

I found out a lot of eye openers throughout my wedding preparation. And I am going to bare it all.
And I mean ALL. I'm planning to post all of my gripes topic by topic and although I think all of this only apply to me no other single being can 'learn' from my experience, but I am a firm believer that tragedy + time = comedy.
If at least someone can laugh at this... then why not.
So let the chapters begin.

It's My Birthday!!!

2009-12-25T18:08:00.007-06:00

The morning of my birthday, three days ago, I woke up and logged in to check my emails. I found many greetings and birthday wishes from my friends and family. It made me smile.
I got a message in facebook from one of my much older cousins. She wished me a birthday wish and said that she's wishing to God that I would have kids soon.
I was wincing while thinking, uhm... that is presumptuous of her to think I want kids right away. And even went ahead praying for that.
For one, I haven't had my grandeur wedding reception like my parents want. My mom would be livid. But then, I can tell her, well, blame my cousin, Tina, who's been talking to God about it. She's the culprit.
I chuckled thinking about it.

Well, I am thirty-three now. BUT despite that, I am thankful for all of God's blessings. And it is the first time that I am celebrating my birthday with a husband.
I have accepted and no longer in denial, that I do see more lines on the corners of my eyes. And I am in the market for some anti-aging cream... or some eye cream, possibly. Although, I'm not willing to pay for those hundreds of dollars worth of cream in tiny winy jar.

I also chatted with my sister (who is 7 years older than me) on Yahoo.
I said: I feel old.
And her answer was: Are you mocking me?
Which gave me the perspective that I was not that old. And actually a week before my birthday, ChicagoDimCorner's church just celebrated the birthday of its oldest member. A ninety-freaking-seven year old grandpa. His name is Don Taylor. Don has a really good memory. I'll say even better than mine. He remembers people and their stories. He is still capable of driving, painting his house and fixing his basement.
That's the way to live when you are ninety something, don't you think?

I couldn't really enjoy my birthday this time because it is just a day away from the fateful immigration hearing for ChicagoDimCorner, which turned out to be not that fateful anyway as it was postponed for another three weeks.

But anyway, I think the funniest thing someone said to me on my birthday was when my friend David said: Thirty three? Jesus died when he was thirty-three. And Tammy, his wife, dropped her head and shook it in disbelief that he just said that.

And the most touching was when my not-romantic and non-elaborate husband asked me to pray together with him and in the prayer he thanked God for bringing me into his life.

Touched. Yes, I was.

2009-12-01T19:54:00.001-06:00

The forecast said it's going to be flurry on Thursday.
Sigh... that's it. Winter is here.

Mrs. ChicagoDimCorner?

2009-11-26T15:59:00.017-06:00

We got married on November 5th. It was a Thursday, so I took a day off and was back to work on Friday.
It was a very small ceremony, if you even consider it a ceremony.
We went to the courthouse in Joliet, IL and paid $10. We waited for an hour and then a judge in an empty court room read us stuff, asked us the question. We said I do. Then we repeated after the judge, vowing to stick by each other, through sickness and health, richer and poorer, yada yada...
Then we kissed.
We took pictures.
And off we went to eat.

It could've been a more pleasant day, without all of the drama that was going on between me and my parents.
Without my dad's push on the (again) prenup and his extravagant, impersonal and expensive ideas on the wedding reception while I want a small one.
Without my mom's silence treatment to me and her risen up blood pressure when I suggested (just a suggestion!) that we just have a pastor blesses us here instead of in Jakarta.
Again... just a suggestion!!!
And she was so dissapointed, with tears, she demanded to have a wedding reception back home.
Uhm... this is just a suggestion, by the way, no need to get all freaked out.
Sigh, I really began to think that my wedding was their fantasy wedding. A big Cinderella wedding that they didn't have.

I don't know if I have always been this private, but that last scene in Runaway Bride is the perfect scenario for me. Just the the wedding officiant, the bride and the groom, on top of a green hill.
Perfect.
But of course, that didn't happen. And it will not happen.

I'm happy to be married to ChicagoDimCorner, though. I have never been so sure about anything else in my life, despite my brother's separation from his wife, Prince Charles' infidelity, Tom Cruise's and Nicole Kidman's divorce, Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey, Britney Spears and Kevin Federline, Jennifer Anniston and Brad Pitt, Elizabeth Taylor's and Richard Burton (twice!).
I'm sure we will be the anomaly, and will surpass all the hurdles in life.

That afternoon, we took Bandit to the doctor because he had eye infection. That's why if you see in all my civil wedding pictures, Bandit was squinting.
The trip to the doctor was short but that was the first time that day that I have some time alone with my husband, without relatives, without cameras, without people nagging about anything.
I said to him: So... do I refer to you as my husband now? Or still a fiance?
ChicagoDimCorner said firmly: Husband, of course.
Then I asked: And as what are you going to refer me?
He said: my woman.
I said: Hm,... fine... just like a caveman, huh? Grunt.. grunt.. my woman. By the way, I want to change my name. My dad asked if I'm going to change it to my last name hyphen your last name. But, I think I'm going to strip off my last name, and adopt yours completely.
He just smiled and said jokingly, whichever you will comfortable with, woman.

After the doctor visit, we walked to a small pathway in the woods right next to the doctor's office. We walked there in silence with Bandit, we held hands. And it dawned to me, I got married. I got married to a guy who loves me and understands my quirks and, let's face it, accepts my other hundred of mental disorders.

And it doesn't really matter what other people want, at the end of the day, when all the people are gone, it will be only me, ChicagoDimCorner and Bandit.
Nothing else matters.
And now, we are a family.
And in the chilly air in the woods, I felt warmth in my chest.

2009-11-02T23:48:00.000-06:00

Fifth day.... will passed in 10 minutes.

2009-11-01T20:18:00.001-06:00

Only the fourth day, and I need a hug.
Fourteen more days to go.

Who's getting married?

2009-10-17T20:58:00.004-05:00

My boyfriend's lawyer dropped the news bomb a few weeks ago. ChicagoDimCorner's greencard process has moved along and now... he doesn't have to wait anymore to get married.

We. Are. Free. To. Get. Married.

In fact, if we get married before the time he has to go to the immigration judge at the end of December, I would immediately get my GC also (if he is granted his GC, of course).

I remember that day, we went out for lunch after his meeting with his lawyer, and he didn't have any appetite.
Not me though. I ate quite a lot. It was good Thai food.

Anyhow.... I told my parents about the news, of course, and they were packing their luggage right then and there and they will be back here, in less than two weeks to witness the two seconds moment of me signing the marriage certificate. I told them it's no big deal. It's not that we are really getting married. Well,.. yeah, legally I am married, the significance of that is that next year I will file a join tax with CDC and hopefully get more tax return. But we don't have a pastor to marry us, there will be nothing really, just a strategy for my immigration status.
But nooo.... they have booked their tickets and took care of their Japan visa for their overnight transits in Tokyo. They are all set!
Three times in a year, this year that they visit.
I love them to death.... it's just that.. uhm,.. the interval keeps getting shorter and shorter and my days off are skimpy now. Also, I have gotten used to living alone that having house guests seems... sigh... hard.
My dad loves to talk to me in the morning, right at the moment I go downstairs from my room in the morning, when my social capability is totally invalid. Like a computer that is still booting but the user is already trying to logon to Yahoo messenger.

Now, again, I love my parents, but I envision some bloodbath along the way towards my wedding day. My mom suggested, again, that I have prenup.
Also I just heard from my sister that my dad has chosen the color for my wedding in 2010.
It's pink if you're wondering.
And since the news, they have been driving around Jakarta visiting luxurious hotels asking for price quotes, checking out ballrooms, taking notes on the wedding packages.
They went to survey the wedding favors yesterday with my godmother.
My dad wants the guys (including my poor fiance) to wear bowtie. I don't know if it occurs in his mind to ask what my fiance would've like to wear. I think that what bugs me the most. The not asking and just deciding part.
Oh, and I found out from my sister that my mom might not have let go of the idea that we have TWO wedding ceremonies.
One is for the Seventh Day adventist ceremony, the other one is the Catholic ceremony.
Chatolic... hm,... a religion I have not thought about in.. let's see... since high school.
See, my mom is a Budhist, so... sigh... why insist on having a Catholic ceremony?
I can just see that when they come here in less than two weeks and we start to have the wedding preparation conversation, I will walk out the room as the most insolent, difficult, ungrateful daughter they have. They will switch and make my sister their favorite instead.

You see, I want to be married with CDC. The concept is that I want to have a day that I spend with the people I love and care about, celebrating us, being fools, getting married.
While my parents want to throw the wedding reception of the century.

Ow.. and my dad wanted to book Elfa Secioria as my wedding band. Who? My American friends might ask. That band is like the most popular big band, very popular in the 80-ies.

Sometimes I don't know who's getting married.
I'm so confused.

My parents have turned into Parentzillas.

Food For Thought

2009-09-09T21:22:00.004-05:00

To my defense... I had that face because my brother trained me to make ugly faces upon request.

100,000 More Times If I Need To

2009-09-01T20:02:00.004-05:00

This has been a weird summer.
It's cool like April.
And it's been April since 4 months ago.
I switched my comforter to a thicker one a few days ago, it went down to the 40-ies at night, believe it or not. The world is nearing the end.
Well, enough about the weather.
Today, I am going to share something that is really personal about my family.
My brother has separated from his wife. After more than 12 years of marriage, he left his house and rent a one bedroom condo on the other side of the city almost a couple of months ago.
I have been holding my breath for quite a while, and it finally happened. And I am glad, to be honest.
But I am weeping inside.
I don't know how I feel. Ideally I want him to have a family. To be near his children, but life is f***ing unfair. And it's either you fall and cry on the side of the road, or you wipe your useless tears and keep moving.

My brother is the one of the few that I truly unconditionally love. The soft spot in my heart, my hero, my friend, my idol, almost my everything, (if I don't have ChicagoDimCorner).
I cannot express in words how strong of an influence he is all my life. I look up to him since as long as my memory serves me.

But then again, like I said, life is a bitch. And you just have to play the cards you're dealt.

He's not perfect. But for me he is a perfect brother. And I am privileged.

My parents... they love me, I know. I feel it. But we don't say I love you to each other out loud. I never said how much I love my brother. Ever. Out loud. I wonder, would it be weird if I do that?
I told ChicagoDimCorner, when we have children, I want to be able to express to them how much I love them, in words.

And in the helplessness that I felt, I prayed. I have been praying a lot for him. Oh God, please give him strength and wisdom and peace and clarity of mind and most of all happiness. Please be with him. Please. Please. Please. Please....
And I will pray 100,000 more times until I know for sure that God listens and grants my pleas.

I don't know how big the psychological impact would be for his children. But he is doing his best, he is a good father, he has always been, like he's a good brother to me.
Again, in my helplessness all I can do is pray for his children.

I don't know what the atheists do when they have problems. When it seems like there is no way out, and everything is just hopeless and you have no friends and you need help. Because, for me, I pray.

When he moved out of his house, my mom was all tensed, nervous and fell in deep pity for him.
Your poor bother, who's going to cook for him, poor thing, how is he going to take care of himself, who's going to do his laundry. Sigh... the apartment is very small, too small for even one person. Blah blah blah...

And so I said to my mom, in a very composed, together and calm manner, that she should be glad that he's left. That he is getting his independence back. His sanity back. His freedom. His peace of mind. That's he's standing up for himself and we shouldn't be too involved in little details.
We should let him take care of this by himself, after all, he's a 41 year old very capable adult.
We all just need to pray and tell him that we are there for him. He's going to be just fine.

But then, I hung up the phone with my mom and I started crying, oh my God, who is going to cook him meals, do his laundry, is the apartment furnished? Does he sleep on the floor at night. Oh my God, please help him.

But I think God did hear me. He is doing fine. He's getting his life back together, he wakes up in the morning not feeling like crap anymore.
And the apartment is furnished. He has a very nice and comfy-looking bed.

But still I am praying... 100,000 more if I need to. Just to see him happy.

The Crystal Merchant Inspired Me Not To End Up Like Him

2009-07-27T21:32:00.006-05:00

I just finished The Alchemist last week. Part of my New Year Resolution, the 2009 one, if anyone wonders, is to find a hobby. A hobby other than slouching on the couch and watch TV until it's time to go to bed.
And hence the reading.

I love fables.
And though I don't really 100% agree with what Coelho said in that book, I appreciate his work.
The book is somewhat a reality bitch-slap for me though.
I do have a job.
But is it really something that I want to do?
In the book (okay,... spoiler alert for those who want to read the Alchemist, but haven't), there was a old crystal merchant who have a shop. A long time ago, when he was young, being the devoted Moslem that he is, he always wanted to go to Mecca. But he thought that he wanted to work and be rich first so that he can afford a trip to Mecca.
It was tens of years ago and every year he sees people passing by with their caravans, going to Mecca. Even people who were poorer than him.
Their faces were happy. Because they were going to Mecca.
And now he's old, and all his life, the one thing that keeps him going is the thought that one day he will go to Mecca, but now that he can afford it, he is afraid.
If he goes to Mecca, then after that, what would he be looking forward to in life?

I don't want to be that old man.

I want to go to my 'Mecca', as early as I can.
Why wait? I don't even know if I am still breathing tomorrow.
Well, hopefully I will. I have an early and important meeting with some clients.

I need to figure out what I want in life. Is being an IT whore (pardon my curse) really what I want to do? Is it what I aspired to be?

I have a friend who was just diagnosed with Lymphoma. It is basically a type of cancer. She called me and told me the biopsy result and instead of consoling her, I bursted into tears, I was so heartbroken. She's such a sweetheart. She was the one who then consoled me (nice going, Bluecactus).
But it got me think about life, and how uncertain it is. And I have been counting my blessings ever since and try to be positive. And it is hard, you know, because complaining is so darn easy. When you have an idiot as a boss, for example. (Insert smiley face).

But I am not waiting anymore. I want to live life to the fullest. It doesn't mean, clubbing every night, drink, try all the illegal drugs, swing from a stripper pole. But to live right, to take care of my own mental and physical health.
Plan to execute my forgotten life goals.
Do charity. try to be kind, be patient, be strong, be wise.
Live, love, laugh, people often say.
Then hopefully at the end of the day, I will have no regrets.

They Are BACK! In Full Blast Nonetheless

2009-07-09T20:50:00.005-05:00

My mom and dad is coming to visit me again.
Yes, they will arrive tomorrow. I will pick them up, drive them home, give them my room and entertain them for a whole month.
I will retreat to the guest room. I can't put them in the guest room, it's next to ChicagoDimCorner's room and my dad snores like there's no tomorrow.
They'll be back home on the 3rd of August.
I already counted, it's 24 days of full interaction.

Twenty four days.

I am an introvert. I really value my time alone without interaction with other human beings, and I'm so terrified that I will go crazy with constant human interaction 24/7. I need my alone time to read books, to wind down, to reset my sanity which everyday got shattered by the outrageous lunacy which unfortunately I have to interact with.
And my mom would burst into my room in the morning declaring that the breakfast is ready. I'm weeping inside just thinking about it.

It is actually kinda surprising to see that my parents cannot cope well as empty-nesters. I would think that they would blow us, the kids, kisses and say "Toodles, kids, we're going around the world in a full year, or two, eat caviar, sunbathing at the beach. Don't wait up!" But, apparently not. Sadly said, in their mind, I have been the same 17 year-old daughter of them. I have been seventeen for the past 15 years.

My mom said, "When I visited you last December, I saw the bathrobe you have was the old one that you have been having for years. I'm going to buy you a new one and bring it to Chicago."
Sigh...
"Huh? What's wrong with it, Mom? It's fine, I never use it anyway and I can buy it myself. Don't bring me anything, travel in style, travel light."

And last week, she just suggested that I have a prenupt before getting married, which confuses me because I'm not rich, and I don't have any weathly, sickly old relative who favors me tremendously.
Also, does she think that I have a big chance to have a divorce?
I'm trying to be in her shoes and think of reasons why she would think that I need one.
"Hm,... this kid of mine has always been the unstable one, always use feelings never logic. I need to step in."
Or, "This ChicagoDimCorner looks like a crook, and he's marrying my daughter, I better tell her to separate her assets."
Or, "It looks like it's the 'in' thing to do these days for young couple, so-and-so kids are doing it, her cousin did it, eeehhh... maybe I'll tell her to do the same."
I know she meant well.
But I'm just,... you know... speechless.
I finally said, I think about it.
And I hope this will never come up again.

To-Do List Before I Die

2009-06-26T23:33:00.005-05:00

I have bought myself several empty journals in this month.
First because I was reading Eat, Pray, Love and I thought to myself, I should have a book just like the author where I can write to God, and have conversations with Him. Especially when I'm feeling sad, or confused or in need of a friend that no mere mortals can console.
So I went and came back with a journal.
I have started writing in it. Yeah, already I did. Apparently I have dormant worries, confusion, concerns in life. I also have some friends I wanted to mention in my journal. I call this book as my Prayer Journal.
Another book I bought yesterday. Now this one I call as my Thoughts and Inspiration Journal. This is where I think I would write about my goals, where I want to be in life, focus in life, anything... basically to keep my perceptions in check as a third person.
The first entry I wrote was: Things I Want To Do Before I Die...
Luckily I did not put some number, like, the 10 things I want to do before I die. I found out that I am so boring, I can't even reached 10. I stopped at number 7 and I stared blankly at it, unable to dig in within me, what I want to do for number 8.
But anyway, maybe it was the hunger (I'm trying to eat less, yes... doctor's order... gosh darn it), maybe I need some sleep.
So... here we go,... The Things I Want To Do Before I Die...
1. Sky Diving (I know... I know... I keep on thinking about it and do nothing about it).
2. Go to Japan and explore their culture (Been there, never really go to the rural traditional parts of it).
3. Have kids and teach them well in life (I think this would be my biggest legacy in life, the hardest yet, I would imagine, the most rewarding). And I would underline the teach them well in life part. The having kids part, I think would be piece of cake. :)
4. Paint an oil painting and proudly hang it in my house.
5. Go to Alaska
6. Learn pottery and make some pottery objects that I can call my creations.
7. Have a series of professionally-taken self portraits before having a baby so I can cherish them later when I am old and toothless (hopefully not toothless... but you never know)That's it!
I know I want to travel, but I have yet to dig in more.

And No, I don't want to try bungee jumping, I think when I die, instead, I would be glad I duck out of it. And I don't know why it's so different (in my mind) than sky diving. I guess, I'm afraid that the rope would snap.

Anyway... enough about me. Anyone wants to share your to-do list before you die?

The Size Of His Nostrils

2009-06-26T23:20:00.004-05:00

You know...
When my best friend at work exclaimed while reading Yahoo! news, "Whoa,... Michael Jackson was found not breathing and was rushed to the hospital!"
All I said was, "Well, who can breathe anyway with that size of nostrils."
But then he actually died and today I felt bad that my last comment about a person before his death was a mockery on his facial weirdness.

A Day In The Life

2009-06-22T21:23:00.005-05:00

Today I worked remotely from home.
I set my cellphone alarm at 6 AM, thinking that I would still be pretty much in a comma for the next half hour.
Then I forced myself up. Then I ran with Bandit around the block, then feed him.
Then I showered.
After that, I ate a couple slices of cinnamon raisin bread (I don't know why I like it while I'm never really a bread person, I think it's a seasonal thing, it'll be over in a week and I'll be back in disliking bread and worshiping potatoes and noodles).
Then I logged on to the office's network.
People from work, mostly the India team, started to call me through the IM one by one with their problems/questions/requests.
I'm their big mama at work, whether I like it or not.
Then some even called.
Then I did some conference calls.
Then we had some issues which needed immediate resolutions.
Solved.
I took Bandit out so that he can do his business.
Then I called my mortgage broker to talk about my refinancing.
Today ChicagoDimCorner and I refinanced our house.
We put 20 thousands more so that we can pay our house sooner.
We're broke and poor now. Broke broke broke.
But, it's all good.
I went to the Bank and got a money order for the refinancing.
The lady from the title company came and we settled the refinancing.

We are then twenty something thousands poorer now than this morning.

I worked some more.

Then we went to the post office and walked the dog, then we cooked dinner, which was supposed to resembled some Cuban meal we had when we were in New York.
It was good. I love the mango salsa part.

Watched some TV.

And here I am.
Tired.
I feel like an adult and I'm tired.

All I think about is to be able to not exercise but still feel good about myself, not having to work, not having to think about mortgage, refinancing, balancing my checkbook, cook my own meal.

And now I have to go to bed, so that tomorrow morning I can do it all over again.

Encounter with Marni

2009-06-12T21:40:00.005-05:00

I called my mom earlier today in the evening (which means their morning time the next day), but I was a little bit too late because they had already gone for their 'out-of-town' weekend with their friends and some of my aunts.
I knew that my mom has a new maid at home, and it was her who answered the phone.
She picked up and said hello as if she's actually screaming it from my house in Jakarta, through the sound wave, traveling the pacific ocean, directly to my ear, here, in Bolingbrook, IL, USA.
So I asked for my mom and she said, oh they have left for the weekend already. She asked me who I am, and I answered, I'm the daughter.
And then enthusiastically, she said " OH!!! YES! MISS LINA!!!! RIGHT?"
And I said, no, I'm Miss Lina's younger sister (while thinking, this was all moot. I didn't really need to explain the family tree to her, while I knew that my mom wasn't there anyway).
And she said, "OOOHH... YES... YES..."
And I don't know why, I continued by saying "The one in the America."
And, gee... did she get excited. She said, "OHHH... SO THIS IS FROM AMERICA??!!!! OOOH... HELLO MISS!!! MISS, MY NAME IS MARNI, I'M NEW HERE, I JUST STARTED HERE FROM LAST WEEK!!! MADAM MENTIONED THAT SHE IS GOING THERE TO AMERICA NEXT WEEK, RIGHT??!!"
Whoa... wait a second...
Now... Marni absolutely threw the bomb there so I said, "Huh? Really? I don't know...."
"YES!!"
"Well, Marni, alright then, I will call them on their cell-phone"
"YES... YES..."
And so I hung up.

I texted my dad, I said: I heard from Marni, the new maid, that you are coming here next week (Like Marni is my new BFF, and like coming here meaning like from Jakarta going to Puncak).

So he called me and we talked a little, and he told me that they might.
But definitely not next week.
Maybe sometime this year.

Huh... that Marni is a riot. Though I have to fact-checked her statements and I think she needs to use her indoor voice, I think she's amusing.

Gotta Make Them The Same Size

2009-05-17T21:03:00.004-05:00

I had a dream that it was my wedding day and my hairdo was a pair of buns on the lower sides of my head, right above my neck.
And one bun was bigger than the other.

Okay, first of all,... the hairdo was uuuggly.

But nevermind that...
More than anything, I, who likes everything divided equally in the middle, felt like my OCD was kicking in (yes, even in my dream).
I tried so hard to, either make one bigger or the other one smaller but I couldn't and the event organizer popped his head in and said: Come on. It's time. You're walking down the aisle. Now!

And I started cursing in my head and start running down the aisle (still cursing in my head),... then I woke up.

Now,... what the heck does that mean?

I tried to tell my boyfriend about it, but he just laughed and laughed... especially at the part where I tried to make the stupid buns have the same size.

I looked old, she said...

2009-05-10T21:13:00.004-05:00

Wow... I had some kind of Lorelai Gilmore v.s Emily Gilmore moment a couple of days ago when I talked to my mom on the phone.
I don't know if I am being sensitive or what, but it was quite something:

Mom: I saw your vacation pictures the other day. Your hair is really long now. And you don't look good when you are wearing your hair down like that. You look better with your hair tied up.
Me: Yes, mom. I know you never like my hair long. You like my hair short. But I am growing my hair so I can donate it.
Mom: That's fine. But, tie the hair. Your face does not look nice with the hair down like that. You look old. Actually older than you actually are. You look like you are at least 35.
(Ouch... )
Silence....
Me: Sooo... are you going somewhere fun today?

The After-Math of my Vacation

2009-05-03T15:56:00.013-05:00

I went on a vacation last week for a few days leaving the never-get-warm weather of the Midwest and headed to the east coast. I went to Washington DC and New York. I flew there and met up with my boyfriend who was already there for some (yawn..) Church seminar, then we drove from Washington DC to New York and then back to Chicago.
It was a much needed vacation as I haven't been to one since a long time. The vacation I had last December when my parents were here didn't count, as I had the big task and pressure to please the guests and make sure that they had a good time.
And the year before, I went home to Jakarta and that was also not at all a vacation, as I had the big task and pressure to please my family and my boyfriend's and make sure everyone had a piece of my time.
But this time. It's just me and what I want to do together with my boyfriend.

After arriving back to my home sweet home, I did quite a lot of self-assessment. Involuntarily, if I may add because it made my head spins, but I thought I jot them down:

One and foremost: I love traveling. It's like finding a dormant hobby that I never knew existed. Ten years ago, when I still lived with my parents, they traveled quite a lot and I got dragged to places, from Hong Kong to Hawaii to Tokyo to Vegas. I didn't mind that, but I can't remember ecstatically embracing it. Now I know that I LOVE traveling. But... without the tour guide, without a schedule, without a chartered bus, without the polite chit-chat with the fellow tour members,... AND without my family. And that makes me feel guilty, because, I know how much my mom loves traveling with me.
Am I being mean and insensitive?
I still need to figure out why that is.
My mom has been asking me to join her and my dad to their Europe trip, possibly this year. And they were saying a couple of weeks ago that they, might be going back here to my place and wanted me to join them to Florida this summer, and also to see the Niagara falls from the Canada side. And for all of those offers, I tried to fake enthusiasm... but I actually cringed inside.
I'm so going to hell.

Second conclusion of my self-assessment: I find out that for once, in many years, I did not check my emails and I was fine. I checked my emails (the personal ones) only once for the entire trip and only replied to one person, and that person was you, Daniel, and it was a short one too.
I did not even log in to the work emails. And I was okay with it. Being away from work actually fix my perspective on life.
How my work is not my life, and it shouldn't be.
How I should work hard and play harder.
That I should live up to my favorite quote I put in my facebook page: "Just living is not enough" said the butterfly,"one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower."

Third, is that I'm old. It took my entire weekend to recuperate from the tiring trip and lots and lots of sleep. Granted, I did a lot of walking, miles and miles of walking, but still, I used to be fine after a day of rest.
I'm no seventeen year-old anymore. I just have to accept that in two years, I will be a seventeen year old times two.

Fourth, my dog, Bandit is a big-time spoiled-rotten rascal. I was lucky enough to find a lady who was willing to take care of him. Bless her heart. She's an angel and Bandit really tested her. He chased both of her cats back to the bedroom, for 5 days the cats never got out from there. She took him for a drive and he barked at people. One time he got away from the leash while she took him out to do his 'business'. He ran around the park jovially while the lady almost got a heart-attack thinking that he would run away.
The lady gave me a book to read, and I didn't took it in a wrong way, because I know Bandit has issues and I think I'm a big part of the root-cause. And according to the book, a dog needs to have exercise, discipline and affection. In that order. And I have been doing it backwards, if not only giving him the last part.
And now I'm terrified that I will subconsciously do the same thing to my future kids and they will grow up to be the pompous jackasses that I bumped into all my life and that I hate.
Sigh,.. one more thing to put in my worry-wart list.

I told my boyfriend once, I hate it that I am so complicated. Sometimes I think maybe, being a blond empty-headed ditsy gal for a day won't hurt at all. I think they sleep peacefully at night without worries. Me? I never have a dreamless sleep since I was in the 6th grade.
But anyway, if I have the chance to be that gal, let's do it over the weekend when I am not on-call.
You know, I still want to keep my job.

I'm leaving

2009-04-25T07:14:00.003-05:00

I'm going on vacation... I packed my sundress, my hat and my bathing suit.
And I got like 5 different shoes for a four day vacation.
I know it's crazy, but I'm vacationing in style.
Sue me...

And I'm not sorry

2009-04-21T22:12:00.004-05:00

It was very liberating.
It was scary but it was, indeed, liberating.

When I click the send button to send an email to my dad.... That email was an explanation of my point of view, which was very much opposing his. Well, basically that email underlined my disagreement with him. And as I clicked the button, that was my point of no return.
And I was in 'in omnia paratus' mode.

I thought to myself, I can be this obedient daughter suppressing my opinions and be agreeable... or I can take a major leap and let my opinion be heard.

I did not send the email to argue back with my dad. I just want him to understand that I have a different opinion. And we can agree to disagree. But oh, man, did he take it the wrong way.
I made a rule for myself not to send an email when I am angry. I can compose it while I was fuming... but I will not send it. And I do play by that rule. But apparently not my dad. And I can tell that his reply would be my very first draft of an angry email.

But strangely... despite all of that, I felt liberated.
I'm not vengeful. I don't feel the need to retaliate.
But most importantly, I don't regret sending the first email.

And I'm not sorry.

And, yes, I love my dad. This is just me outlining my own pathway. And I really mean, my own.

2009-03-24T22:31:00.002-05:00

I just told my gossipy boss that I don't want to know any details about my coworkers unless it is related to my work as a team leader.

The office environment has become he-said she-said cross stories left wing, right wing. It's disgusting.
I didn't care about office politics then when I was an oppressed bottom feeder and I don't care about it now, when I'm somewhat not too oppressed anymore.

Okay, enough about the office.
Did I mention that my mom wants to have polonaise dance on my wedding?
Yeah, the corny dance from the last century. Where the couples line up and hold up their hands together, locking fingers with their partners and the couple at the end of the line have to go through under the tunnel of hands to the other side.
And as much as I love classic big band music, gosh, I hate Rod Stewart's Greatest America's Songbooks. He sold his soul (and dignity) for easy money, and of course... my dad has all of his corny songs. And I'm so afraid that he will insist that we have our father daughter dance with one of those horrific songs.

I know I'm bitching and there are hungry people out there without food nor a job who would love to trade place with me and I have to be thankful.
Well, I am.
Just not tonight.

2009-02-28T16:37:00.002-06:00

When I told my mom years ago that I am dating this Seventh Day Adventist Christian, my mom said, "But... you guys have different beliefs. You will have a hard time later in life with this."

I said, "Nah, it's going to be okay. We'll work it out."

Today, I sit here with heavy and burdened heart realizing how right she is. No matter how hard we work it out, fundamentally we are screwed. It's like we stand on the different side of the line of fire, while holding hands, it's crazy.

It's frustrating.

And there's nothing I can do. It's a choice I have made, and I am standing by it. Even though my hands are burning.

BlueCactus Lost Temper... In The Office

2009-02-09T20:23:00.005-06:00

As I try to be a non-nazi team leader, I find it really difficult at times to not yell at some of my team members.
I know... that I am not the most patient person. Patience is certainly a virtue, but not mine.

But, believe it or not, I am very patient in the office.
Very patient....
Darn patient, actually.
And that's because I do believe in positive reinforcement.
Besides, I don't yell. That is just unprofessional.
I believe that any issue can be dealt and addressed in a calm supportive discussion.
Criticism can be thrown out. Constructively.
People do make mistake and it is not the end of the world, as long as it is not swiped under the carpet and a week later I smell something funny.
I have to believe in any of my team member equally. Although, in reality some members excel much more than the others, I have to give the same trust and opportunity to all. I have to believe that each one of them is fully capable to be given any tasks.
I have to give opportunities equally.
Push them equally with the thought of 'I-know-you-have-it-somewhere-in-there' kind of attitude.
Knowledge is to be shared. There's no holding back.
I want to know what each member wants, what they are passionate about, give them a chance to grow. Learn. Sometimes fail, in order to learn some more.

That's my Bluecactus-ism in the office.

But today, I really lost my temper.
Not proud of it.

Because, even though I rant a lot outside the office. In this blog. To CDC, or to my mom.
At work, it's off limit.

I slammed the desk, and I said: Darn it, [a team member name here]!!! when I caught that we have this problem.

There was a silence, my best friend jumped to my desk and held my hands trying to calm me down, and my peer, another team leader was just sit there with raised eyebrows looking at me like I grew fangs.

The person I was so ready to eat alive has gone for the day, but still, I do regret what I did.

I have been thinking about it for the whole evening of how I could have handled things better and not burst into a Hulkette in mere seconds.
And no... I was not PMS-ing.
I have tolerance for mistakes. I do not, however, have tolerance for repeated mistakes,... the same kind of mistake on a very plain, simple and straightforward assignment one has been assigned,.... not for the first time, but maybe for the 100th time.
Now, this I consider as negligence.

I might have 1000 different ways to push someone, to motivate someone. But someone who's not willing to be motivated or grow will be a lost cause of my effort. Because it is not up to me to make someone better if the willingness does not come from within.

I grow to love my team. And I want to be proud of them. But frankly it's easier to be proud to some than to others.

CDC is the total opposite of me. When faced with a problem, he would sleep on it.
I would hesitate and finish it off. Hot headed.
Today, I'm going to adapt his approach and sleep on it.

Tomorrow is a different ball game. I hope,... or I demand to be sedated.

Serial Killer, am I?

2009-02-03T21:01:00.002-06:00

For the longest time I have always known that I am a loner. I like to be by myself, I have no problem, for example, having lunch down at the cafeteria and sit by myself while other people from the office were at the next tables. I never have the urge to ask if I can sit with them, or even feel uncomfortable sitting alone. Once the boss of my boss even stopped by and asked me to have lunch at his table with some other people. That's was so nice of him, but I politely declined.

At times, I went out for lunch by myself too. I enjoyed the quietness. Not having to make conversation with anyone is at times a bliss.

I don't like talking on the phone. My philosophy is, state your purpose, then say your good byes.

Also, I would love to have a day at work where I'm not interrupted every 10 minutes and just focus on what I need to do. I have a long list of tasks that I want to accomplish before the end of the day and it would be sweet if at least I can nail, like 90% of it. If only I'm not interrupted all the time.

I don't like small talk, especially with strangers, I pray to God every time I board a plane that my neighbors are either sedated, or too wasted talk, or just plain rude or stuck up, so he/she doesn't feel the need to socialize. Most of the time God answers my prayers, but well, let's face it, he's busy too.

So, one day, my boyfriend forwarded me this link. A link about the introverts, and though I know very well that I am somewhat introvert, I did not know how much I fit into the profile of the right column ( the introvert column).

I think of some people to be boisterous. Nice, but very exhausting to deal with. Now I know that it's just how an introvert perceives an extrovert, according to that article.

But look at what the extroverts think of the introverts:
"One of those who like to read. Moody loners. Be careful not to tick them off; some of them are serial killers."

What?!!
Gosh darn it.

I think of them as boisterous, they think of me as a serial killer.

But well, the good thing about it is that maybe, just maybe, they'll stay away.

One can only hope.

Becaust It's Red

2009-02-01T23:14:00.006-06:00

My boyfriend asked, sooo... who are you rooting for the Superbowl tonight.
So I said, what colors are their uniforms?
Well, the Cardinals, red, the Steelers, yellow.
What kind of red? The kind like the sweater I am wearing?
Hee hee... I don't know... he took a glimpse (he was driving).... yeah, I guess.
And what about the yellow, is it like that yellow, that road sign over there?
Yup, I guess so.
Hm,... okay, I'll take the red team. It's a nice color.

And that's, ladies and gentlemen, how I lost. Because I like the color red, and now I owe him a half hour head massage.

Flossing Etiquette

2009-01-23T20:03:00.006-06:00

There's a guy in my office who sits about 8-9 feet away from me who flosses his teeth every day in the office.
No. Not in front of the restroom sink in the office.
But at his desk.

Yes. Sitting, or at times actually standing, flossing his teeth.

Even sometimes, walking around. Flossing, while stopping once in a while to chat with people, with his floss rolled around his index finger, touching things, other people's report, blackberry, and stuff. Then without washing his hands, go straight back to his desk, put the floss aside on his desk (for later use), and start typing.

Can you imagine the amount of germs invested on his keyboard? Sometimes he makes this tight high-pitch string-picked noises when pulling his gunk out. It's like playing guitar with his teeth. Totally gross. Think of all of the particles being flicked out from this floss of his.

We joked about his habit behind his back, but over the time it has become more gross than funny. Up to a point that I think it is just a matter of us pulling the straws and the one who gets the shortest straw will have to sit with him and tell him how gross it is to floss in public.
It's unsanitary, it's mannerless, it's rude, it's inhumane, it's disgusting and it's... did I say gross already?

So my friends and I got into this discussion about how weird it is that if someone is being rude, the society tends to let that person be. Because, most of the time, if we, for example, stand up and say something to the person that he's being mannerless or rude, that person will get offended.
I mean, how can that person be offended when we are the one who are trying to say in the first place that we are offended by him? The world has gone mad.

Oh, you know what, he also chews his gum and when he needs to talk to someone, he would take out his gum, stick it on top of his notebook for the longest period of time, and for later consumption.

Yup... you can only find this kind of bizarre behavior in my office.

The Angel of Dogs

2009-01-01T21:32:00.010-06:00

On the day of my birthday, nine to ten days ago, on which I turned 32, my dad gave me a figurine of an angel.

It was an angel holding some flowers.

Then he said: I actually wanted to give you the angel holding a dog. You were with mom in that quaint little store in Long Grove picking up bracelets and I had to sneak past you to tell the lady owner which one I wanted. Then they scurried here and there discreetly and shoved me this box, and I did not check the inside.
So I ended up with the angel with the flower instead.
I wanted to give you the dog one because the pose is exactly just how you always hold Bandit. And the dog's tail hanging down just like Bandit's too. It's such a good representation of you and Bandit. You are so good with animals you are like their guardian angel. That figurine is perfect for you.

So, when you have the chance later on, go there and exchange this with the angel holding the dog.
Except,... you really like this one holding some flowers.

So I said, sure, Dad. I'll go there and exchange them.
Thanks, Dad.

To do that, then, last week, I went to Long Grove with CDC (ChicagoDimCorner, that is...) and went to that quaint store again. And I explained to the Lady owner who was very nice, by the way.
I looked for the figurine which he explained to me, the angel carries a dog with a pose just how I carry Bandit, on my right arm with him facing my right or sometimes back. And I found it.
"There it is!" I said to CDC.
I picked it right up, we stared at it in silence.
"But..." I said.

"It's a CAT."

Then CDC started to laugh.

"Are you sure?" He said.

"Yeah, I know what a cat looks like... don't you?"
"And," I said, "Also, she carried the cat on her left side... unlike how I carry Bandit. On the right. Maybe my dad didn't wear his glasses at that time and thought that it's a dog."

CDC said, "Now what? Are you still going to take it?"

"I guess so,... we can pretend that it's a dog. I can draw a black spot on its back to make it looks more like Bandit, " I said.

"Okay...."
"Okay."

So, I exchanged it.

Then we left.

Only to find, this morning, that on the official website of those angel figurines, they do have an angel carrying a dog.
With the exact pose as mine and Bandit.

I looked at it in disbelief.
Cursing inside.
It's ME who needs glasses. I missed that one over there in the store.

I guess I'm going back to Long Grove again, which is a forty freaking miles drive, one way, so that I can have an angel figurine, that my dad wants me to have, and I want to have because my dad wants me to have.

Me,...
The angel of dogs, who, because of some mix-up, currently is the angel of cats.

2008-12-26T21:28:00.004-06:00

As I sent my parents back home in the airport a few days ago at the airport, I thought to myself, why couldn't they bring their nail clipper on-board? Were the officials afraid that someone will be clipped to death?

And what was the reason that people can't bring their toiletries? Instead, I think they should let the passengers bring their hygienic items. Trust me who has been there and done that.
Yes. I have sat next to a stinky breather, who slept with his mouth open. Wide open. Snoring, blowing air from where no man has gone before. It was a thirteen hours flight.
Yup.

As always, I hated airports. Especially when I have to say good bye. And in this case, it was to my parents, who, after 5 weeks of lots of shopping sprees and dining out and inches of snow, were ready to embrace the warmth of Jakarta once more.
So, there.
That's why I had thoughts about the nail clippers and toothpaste, to keep my mind busy from thinking about how old my parents look, and that it would be, at the minimum, another year till I see them again, and so on.

So we said our goodbyes, they went in, and I smiled, hugged and kissed, trying not to get emotional. Then, after a few minutes still waiting at the gate, I saw that it's my mom & dad's turn to take off their shoes, belts and jackets to be scanned. I thought to myself, Okay, this is it, they'll be out of sight right after this. Savor this moment, and sight as I exhale heavily.

Then, my dad turned to me with his shoes in his hands and all of a sudden,...

He pretended like he was about to throw the shoes at me like that Iraqi reporter did Bush.

I laughed.
He grinned.
We waved at each other.

Then they were out of sight.

I stood there and I could feel the coldness of the airport creeping in like the shadow of a dark cloud.

I hate airports.

But maybe, it's not the airport. It's just me and my hollowness.

Conversing with Bandit

2008-12-04T23:10:00.007-06:00

I remember a long time ago my boyfriend asked me, how come I talked to my dogs.
They don't understand any language.
Didn't you feel silly doing that?
Did you ask questions?
Why would you? Did you expect an answer?

And now that we have a dog, he talks, scolds, commands, and... guess what,... asks questions too.
Hah.

Bandit! Did you pee here?
Oh... no you did not. Good boy. Come here. Good boy.

Well, another surprising big Bandit lover is ChicagoDimCorner's mom.
The person who at first did not like her hands to be licked by dogs, or basically, just don't really care about pets.
She who asked: Where does he sleep? In the koi? With you? (Koi = bed in Menado).
Yes, auntie.
Oh, no, don't let him sleep there, put him downstairs.
Nope, that's fine, I have shared my bed with dogs practically all my life.

But then she warmed up bit by bit. She started asking where Bandit is if ChicagoDimCorner comes to their condo. They even rode together in one car and Bandit stepped all over her lap.

And the other day, I knew Bandit has won when I heard this: Come here you Bandit, come to Oma (and I thought: Huh? Oma?), let me give you some baked Salmon. Oh, you don't like it cold, do you, let me heat it up a bit. BlueCactus, can I give him some chicken?
Sure.
And of the Oma went to the kitchen.

Apparently No Biggie

2008-12-01T23:22:00.005-06:00

The anticipated / awaited mom and dad finally arrived a couple of weeks ago and I was joyfully embraced them to my house.

Every time I see them, they always look like they age too fast. But I guess that is because I don't see them for a long time, so the next time I see them, it's like... whoa! Wait a second.

No really, wait a second and stop aging.

I'm not saying they look bad, it's just that they age.

So, after I got them to the house, and calmed the mortified Bandit, my first news was,... okay mom and dad, (inhale), I've been living with ChicagoDimcorner.
No,... not like that.
We do share expenses, but I know you concerns and everything that would make this conversation be very uncomfortable, but... I have my own room and so does he.
We have 3 bedrooms here. I'm thirty-one. He's a good handyman. Everything works out for the best.
It's just like Will And Grace. Except Will is not gay, and once he gets his green card, we'll get married.
But, I assure you, you won't have to worry about anything. I will not be the daughter who disgraces you.
Ever.

Then my dad looked at me and said: Oh... I know that. He paid for the house too, I think it's only natural if he lives here.

Whoa, I was the one who apparently ended up in silence at the end of the conversation.
That's it? Really? No struggle? No discussion? No threats?

Hm,... this might be the very few advantages of being a thirty- something. Your parents start to let you be what ever the heck it is you want to be, where you want to be, whatever.

Sweet.

I think I choose my being thirty-one with sagging skin problem than a confused seventeen year old who can't even drive and had not-so-wise boyfriend choices.

Finally Lead

2008-10-26T21:39:00.002-05:00

In the end...
I am still the team lead.
Even though I tried to dug it out as best as I could.
I did. I tried hard because I guess a big part of me wants me to still just kick back and relax.
Enjoy the ride. Especially when you have a boss that 'wonderful'.

But finally ChicagoDimCorner (by the way, can we just call him CDC from now on?) talked me into it.
He told me to take the responsibility so that I can learn more, and even build a stronger resume... blah blah blah.

So I slept on it for a few days, and though I hate it when he is right.
He is right.

So,... there.

I'm a team lead.

On that note, the other day I talked to my co-worker about being enforcing difficult decision or demand to the team. I told him, if a male forces his opinion on something, people say he has a strong character.
If a female forces her opinion on something, people say that she's a bitch.

Well, I'll try my best not to be a bitch, but chances are, soon enough, I'll be a Hitler sans mustache, because, well, now that my head will be the first head the client will be behead if something is wrong, I will have to make sure that my head is safe and intact.

Sigh,... I just want to have a little bit of fund to buy food for Bandit and buy some suede leather shoes. That's all actually...

2008-10-22T21:25:00.002-05:00

I have a few weaknesses... suede shoes apparently is one of them...

Friday

2008-10-17T00:04:00.002-05:00

I'm tired, I'm sick, I hate my job and my boss, but I'm happy...
because, I have entered Friday....

Matchbox

2008-09-20T20:34:00.003-05:00

Last week my shoe box of an office (which I shared with like a hundred other people) got flooded because the soda pop machine in the kitchen, right next door, practically exploded.
So, the carpet and even the wall dividing my desk and the kitchen were all wet, and they had to move me out of the area to an even smaller room, which, still, I have to share with 3 other people.
So now, I sit in a room which is less big than the restroom on my floor, with 3 other people and they are all Indians who just freely talk and chat in Hindi. Loudly. Regardless if I have a phone call with the users, or if I was just plainly thinking, trying to debug some codes.

I just hope one day that soda machine finally dies. Forever. And people will have to start drinking water.
How's that?

Anyway, not only that I had to move, from a shoe box to a matchbox and share it with screaming foreigners shouting foreign language, it is ironically much closer to my boss cubicle. And we all know how much I 'love' my boss.
Words can't express.
And it took him only a few hours to finally find me, then he stuck his head into the matchbox and said, "Oh, there you are, I've been looking for you" with his signature idiotic smile.
And since he's closer, I can hear him, all day, when he does his stupid, ass kissing laugh. I want to throw a stapler to his head and let him slip to a coma.

And talking about slipping to a coma, I do wonder if I am going to slip into a coma due to the lack of oxygen in the room. Too much nostrils and not enough O2. And I also wonder what would a fire marshal say if he is to inspect the room. I bet this violates about 100 fire safety regulation. Although, believe me, once I hear a fire alarm, I'll knock everyone out of my way to the exit.

So, then lunch time arrived, and people started heating up their food and start eating, and mind you that I came from a country which was being invaded for 3 and a half centuries because of our spices. But, oh boooy there was a lot of smell during lunch time.
If I don't slip to a coma due to lack of oxygen, I might slip to a coma because of spice overdose.

Then the next day, when I arrived, a girl was using my phone, which I was cool about, but when I started to sit at my desk, she did not move. She was inches away from me and I could feel her body heat. She might be fine with the barely none distance between us, but I wasn't. So, the first chance I got, I grabbed the phone and put it far away to the next desk, while she said, oh oh, that's okay, I can still just use the phone over here. So, ever so nicely, I smiled to her and said: I move it so I have more room.

Was I being rude? But I did it with a smile.

Well, anyway, they are changing the carpet, and inspecting the mold in the wall. So I'll be there for another precious week.

Ah, office life is just peachy.

Naked Cat

2008-09-14T22:06:00.005-05:00

I got this from bitchphd.blogspot.com.
That porno cat made my day.
It's hilarious.
Disgusting,...
But hilarious.

key people

2008-09-12T22:52:00.007-05:00

As my coworker said today, maybe only in this company that none of us want to be the 'key people'.
As they all paid their condolences to me because, I, as one of the key people, will have to join the upper management and clients for a very fancy dinner sometime next week. Started with cocktail and dinner following.
Mind you, I am a very ambitious person, and I have this OCD which makes me painfully try to always do things perfectly. Some kind of ailment, like chasing the end of the rainbow. Think of me at work like Monica in Friends trying to out-do herself making the Thanksgiving dinner.

But, I for once, don't wanna be one of the key people in the company. I just hate the fact that my boss is an idiot who needs me to go to difficult meetings in fear that he cannot answer the clients' questions by himself. Who said that I am great but then asked me to figure out the menu for the next team lunch (bluecactus the secretary).
And that idiot got the praises from the big bosses while he plays hooky almost daily and when got caught sneaking out with his lunch box at 2 in the afternoon, made stupid excuses like, uh,... I just need to put this in the car. But then we did not see him for the rest of the day.
Where did he park anyway? Ohio?

And so, I also hate the upper management for their blatant ignorance of the mental welfare of the bottom feeders, like me and the team, and for keeping a jack ass like my boss around because he's so good in ass kissing.

But, anyway, when the boss of your boss sent the invitation, it is an order that you come, even though it was masked in words like, let me know if you can make it.

So I will.
Cursing at heart, but I will.

A Buddhist in Disguise

2008-09-04T23:14:00.011-05:00

An interesting comment someone made about me made me ponder about a lot of things.
She said: You could be a very good Christian, the way you carry your attitude shows like you are a very good Christian.
It blew me off rather unexpectedly.
Because I am not one.

Religion.

Something somewhat like a taboo topic I barely ever want to convey in a conversation. I would slyly change the subject, talk about something else lighter, like, the weather, my dog, gas price, food. Anything.
I would, with the best of my ability, twist the topic around.

The thing is, my boyfriend and I, even though we share a lot of similar interests, we are totally different fundamentally, on religion. He is, of all Christians, he's a Seventh Day Adventist. He doesn't eat pork, shrimp, calamari, eel. He worships on Saturdays. He doesn't even watch TV on Saturdays.

And me...
I am a Buddhist.
Well, actually and officially, I am a Catholic, because I was baptized when I was a baby and spent 16 years of my education life in a private Catholic school. But, really, after I was done with high school, I didn't feel even the most remorse calling to, with my own most sincere conscience, pursue being a good Catholic. Go to church and do all that penitence thing.

Anyway, an Adventist and a Buddhist couple might not exist in this segmented world, except us. I even think that it is virtually impossible and I won't even go to the details.

Yet, we are surviving. And we work hard to make it work.
I totally support him and his calling and I go to church with him. Not to worship, but to support him.
I join the church's potluck, every week, to support him.
I bare with his pastor who always tries to coax me to have bible study.
I joined his church activities, like going a softball game, and got hit by the ball, knocked my ankle with the bat, chased balls, ran to bases, burnt by the sun and became unwillingly tan, to support him. And let's not even start with wally ball (yes, wally, not volley) and ping pong.
Went to the retirement homes to entertain. Mind you, I sang, clapped hands, hugged the elderly, handed out flowers, smiled, be cheerful for hours. For him.
Well... for this particular one, actually because I have a soft spot for old grandmas and grandpas too.

I struggle right now on how to articulate what was bothering me when that person from my boyfriend's church said that I could be a good Christian.

I guess because that happened right after I said: I'm not a Seventh Day Adventist. I'm a Buddhist.
Then she was perplexed, not because she did not expect a Buddhist to be in a Christian church potluck. But apparently, because I would have made a good Christian, and she was surprise that I was,... well, something else.

She asked too if I am going to be an Adventist. It was really awkward. Because I just said one word. No. Then looked her straight in the eyes and smile.

Has it occurred to anyone, that everything I did, I did because I am a GOOD Buddhist? Is it true that only Christians are able to do good things?
I tolerate and I don't impose. I love all kinds of people and I really wish for world peace (no pun intended to Miss Congeniality). That the hugs I gave to the elderly were the sincere compassion of a Buddhist.

It sadden me that people cannot see through their own bubble. Because in this case, I will always be on outside the bubble.
An outcast.
An outsider.

But if that is what it takes, then I guess that will have to be.
I am accepting the fact that I'll always be on the outside.
And I feel fine and at peace where I am now.

Missing umbrella

2008-08-23T21:34:00.003-05:00

So, my mom and dad went on a 15-days vacation to Russia and the Scandinavian countries. A few days ago, they were in Stockholm when my sister got a text message from my mom saying that my dad drove him crazy.
I know it's not new news, they drive each other crazy once in a while.
But still, we, the kids were kinda concerned, since they should be having fun, eating caviar and go on cruises.
In the light to console my mom and also to give some peace of mind to bro and sis, I called my mom at her hotel, and chit chatted a bit, only to find out that the quarrel was about some missing umbrella which my dad lost, and which was found again later on.

Oh, mom...

So, here is how the passing of information went:
My mom texted my sister from Stockholm to Jakarta. My sister text my brother then my brother told me (in Bolingbrook, Illinois) when we chatted on Yahoo.
And then, I called my mom to Stockholm using Skype.
Then, after finding out that it was over a missing umbrella, I texted my sister in Jakarta, to let her know, then I emailed my brother in Jakarta about it too.

So, to recap:
Stockholm - Jakarta - Jakarta - Bolingbrook - Stockholm - Jakarta - Jakarta.

Isn't the internet era swell?

All for a missing umbrella.

Somewhere, the CEO of Skype, the CEO of my phone provider, the CEO of my sister's and my brother's cell phone providers are having a big grin about this.

Yeti

2008-07-28T23:31:00.003-05:00

I can't believe how long ago I have been abandoning my blog. It's dusty and spider-webby (if that's even a word).
Anyway, a conversation came up when I drove in the car with my boyfriend yesterday about how many times Bandit has managed to wiggle his head out of the lease, or actually wiggle his body out of the slightly opened door.

One wintery day, full of snow, I was was walking out from the front door when I saw a big bare foot prints on the snow. So, I yelled at my boyfriend:
"Hunny, look! Foot prints. Huge ones. Who on earth would walk barefoot on the snow in a temperature like this???"
Then I gasped and said, "Yeti! It has gotta be yeti. What else would it be???"

Then my boyfriend said, "Uhm,... they're mine."

Silent....
(held back giggles).

"Yours? Why?"

"Uhm,... Bandit ran out of the door when Tony came by and so, since I thought you're going to kill me if something happened to him, I ran outside, barefoot to chase him."

...

"Oh,... okay,... "

Silent...

(Giggle giggle...)

"I should take a picture of it, so I can put it in the blog".

But then, I forgot, and it melt. Too bad, it would have been a very interesting picture.

Happy Father's Day

2008-06-16T20:39:00.007-05:00

Looking back on my past, I have accepted the fact that before I came here to the States, my life back home was pretty much a very protected, pristine, immaculate one.

I blame the fact that I am the youngest one. And physically a bit tiny. And I got sick quite a lot as a baby, compared to my sister who is taller and has a stronger built than me, who virtually never got sick, who was the high school volleyball captain. And, get this: who would have the power to physically smack anyone trying to offend her. She's the total opposite of me. There's an infamous rumor of her smacking my brother's head with my mom's high heels when they're kids because my brother pulled a trick on her. Ouch.

My dad... oh, where do I start...

My dad spoiled me rotten and protected me from everything that is even remotely potentially harmful. He thought and still thinks that I am all that. That I am the precious one. No one was good enough for me. He disliked all of my previous boyfriends. Until they became an ex-boyfriend. He hated them all. Only ChicagoDimcorner passed the hatred phase. Finally.

I remember the first year that I was in Chicago and my dad got sick and was admitted to a hospital in Jakarta. No one told me.
No one told me until a few days later when he got better and was released from the hospital. He told everyone to keep it quiet from me, fearing that I would worry and feel sad.
What?

I mean, WHAT?

He also taught me how to drive, but then hired a driver to drive me around, because I am a bad driver.

He gives unsolicited advise. Starting from career choices, boyfriend choices, my dilemmas in life. Everything.
All the time.

He protected me too much that he took care everything for me without thinking that he might want to let me do things my own way so I can learn from my mistakes.
Or so that I can form my own opinion.
Or so that I can be independent and not being spoon fed all the time.
I didn't even know how to pay my bills when I first got here.

So today, a few days after father's day, I need to get this off my chest:
Look dad, I'm a good driver now. Well, at least I am an okay driver, except when I'm mad because someone just ruthlessly cut my lane. Or when I'm in downtown Chicago, because they are all crazy there. It's not my fault. I am the only sane driver.
I know how to pay my bills since then. How to write a check. Manage my accounts. All that financial, grown up crap.
I'm strong enough to hear alarming news, like if someone got sick and admitted to the hospital. Or that someone's blood test wasn't all that great. That's would explain all the sugar-free food I sent you last week. Got it?
I'm happy that now you embrace ChicagoDimCorner like your own son. Although I hope that since he's like a son now, you won't start giving unsolicited advice too So, keep your cool, Dad. He likes you.
And if I need an advise, I'll ask you, but if not, that means that I know what to do.

And since I was away from home, I went to the bars, clubs, drank, got drunk, got a bad hang-over the day after, got home at 3 AM, all the things you really never want me to do. But I kept an eye on my drinks so no one slipped anything in it. I know my liquor limit, I didn't engage conversation with strangers. I kept an eye on my back when walking home at night. I have tear gas on my key chain, just in case I need to use it.
I made my mistakes, so I can learn from it.
I'm surviving.
I'm doing fine.

I know you are damn proud of me though.
And I know you keep a picture of me and ChicagoDimCorner in your wallet and you show it off to whoever wants to see it. As embarrassing as it is (not the picture, but the showing-off part), I'm letting you to do it.

And I know you love me.
And that's why you did all the annoying things you did... or still do.
And of all people in the world, I guess you're one of the very few people who has the prerogative right to do all that anyway.
Because you're my dad, who drove my to school for 14 years. And some more. You stayed up all night when I got measles. Did everything you could to make sure I have food on the table, went to a good school, read all the books I want. You carried me to my room when I fell asleep on the couch.
Who will walk me down the aisle someday and of course, give unsolicited advice on my kids' names later in the future. And I bet, names will not the only advise you will solicit.
I know it all, and I'm bracing myself for all that. For a hundred more years to come.
So, happy father's day, Dad.

I love you too.

Never leave home without it

2008-06-05T21:58:00.002-05:00

I learned the hard way, never ever leave home without bag to pick up after you dog.
Poop happens.
And you just don't know when.
Even if you think, since it already happened twice today, it won't happen again.

Enough said....

:)

Tiny big hole

2008-05-25T01:50:00.009-05:00

So,... when I made the previous blog, I was happy to declare that my only problem was the allergy, right?
Right?
Yea, ok... not really anymore. Because on my next visit, when they zoomed into my retina, my doctor found a hole. On the edge of my right retina.
Yes. Retina.
The part where the eyes received the light from outside and translates it to a vision.

Well, not that I was going blind or something.
But I might.
If I let it be.
So, in short, a small chance, I might. But if I'm lucky, I won't.
When I first heard the news from my doctor, it took me a few seconds to digest the news, then I said to her: Well, Doc, now I feel that it is a good thing that I have this allergy, because then you checked my eyes out and found out about this hole.

So I chose to fix this tiny hole, just to prevent, you know, the possibility of my retina being detached and I lose my eyesight.
Yea, I know,... sounds kinda scary. Though, bear in mind, it's a very tiny hole. And so, it might not even happen. Ever.
But, c'mon, by show of hands, if this happen to you, who would just do nothing and see what 's going to happen in the future?
Anyone?
Nope?

It is alright now, though. No worry, the doctor lasered it. And the hole is closed.

But throughout the whole experience, I looked back and realized some things:

1. I'm not as healthy as can be. See, I woke up every morning, thinking I was. I barely ever got really sick. I barely have to go to a doctor, knock on wood. And of all things I have, vision is one of the things I thought I had near perfection.
When I went to this eye doctor and they tested my vision with the letter reading game (you know, you read the letters while it gets smaller and smaller) I aced the test. Hands down. I almost high-fived the nurse. But I guess, even though I have good eye lenses, they are of no use if I got screwed up retina, eh?
Tragic.
So, after this news sank in. I saw the fact. The fact that I'm not invincible. I'm prone to health issues too, just like other people, and accepting that fact wasn't easy at all. I was out of my element, I became cranky in the inside, and I wonder, what else could've gone wrong by now without anyone checking them.
Having said that, my defense mechanism made me put up a damn good wall on the outside. Because I told this news to people with straight-nonchalant face, like I was telling them that I had a zit and the doctor will squeeze its life the heck out of my face.
Pride, maybe, made me do that. I guess I don't want people to pity me, or feel sorry for me. I guess... I don't know why I acted that way. I remember, at work, I would go to the restroom and just locked myself in. Put off my smiley-calm-professional face, and just sat there with my cranky face. No, not crying, but still, I think I was under a lot of stress and I just needed some time-out from people.
So, now, I know how I would react when I have serious fears in life. Yup, I hide my real emotion and fake it real good. Pretend that all is peachy and fine.

2. I need to be careful on how I deliver news to my parents. I almost never regret anything that I did in the past. Because I think, whatever I did in the past, at that very moment when I made a decision, I already thought that it was the best way. The result might prove otherwise, but I don't linger on a second of regret over something. It was done and over with.
But, this time, I have to say, I could've done better when breaking the news. Because I just laid the news out there, flat-out brutal truth on the phone to my mom. And I guess, I could've told her first that it wasn't a big deal, blah blah blah, the laser wouldn't even hurt, and it would be only like 2-3 seconds. And the chance of me having a retinal detachment is small because the hole is tiny,... blah blah blah.
Apparently, I made her cry. I realized that after a long paused on her side and her voice was all nasally. Need to keep in mind that since I am an adult now (wow, did I just say that?) I need to put more thoughts and sensitivity into these kind of things. It should never happen that way again.

My eyes are okay now.
Still the fear is there. Not necessarily about my eyes, but just in general, I feel vulnerable.
And when I have fear, guess what I do?
Yes, I mask it well. Just like I'm doing in this post. Telling the story like my problem is just a tiny zit.

I'm seeing double

2008-05-11T19:33:00.006-05:00

I went to an eye doctor on Friday to check on my compulsively itchy eyes. It had been going on for almost a week and I begin to worry. So off I went and get them checked. I knew that the doctor would say that it's allergy. But, I did not know that she'd inspect every single nano-inch of my eyes, including the back of my eyes. In the spirit of checking everything, they gave me some drops to dilate my pupils to check my corneas. But little did I know, for the rest of the day, I couldn't freaking see. Everything was so freaking bright. And blurry. Well, I can see, but I can't.

If you know what I mean.

Having said that, I drove home by myself. And I high-fived myself when I got home in one piece.
I can't read, I can't cook, well I still did, but really, the whole thing was just a 'guesstimate'.

Anyway, then I asked my boyfriend to drive me to the pharmacy for my eye drops. Guess what, the pharmacy lady told me that one tiny bottle, 5 ml bottle, cost me 50 bucks. And even, if I didn't have insurance, I would have had to pay 98 bucks.

I don't understand, how come drugs are so freaking expensive here, in the US. The country that's supposed to be well-developed and rich. Someone, tell me, where the heck does all that money go?!! To some CEO of the drug company to purchase his/her third beach house? Is it possible that medicine is cheaper in Indonesia? It's outrageous.

Well, anyway, the whole reason why I made this blog is to tell you this. I was nowhere near blind. I was just being a sissy. I still could see things in overall. But after a few hours, I got frustrated and went to bed. I was really frustrated, I couldn't surf the net, didn't know how much salt I've put in my cooking, can't even sign for my credit card charges in the pharmacy. Can't dial the numbers to call my mom. Can't even text her to tell her that I went to an eye doctor.
I mean, man, I can't imagine being blind. Can't, can't, can't imagine how HARD it must be.
I'm just thankful for my health.
That's all I want to say.
I'm thankful that my biggest eye issue right now is just allergy. And that's it.

2008-04-29T21:45:00.002-05:00

I tried to not (again) post something about my work, although that might be one of the things I love to rant about.
So, right now, again, I failed not to complain.
How can I not, when my boss last week said that he wanted to make me a team lead? Shoving me more responsibilities.
Me?
A team lead?
So, I asked him, does this mean that y'all are gonna hike up my paycheck because I will have to do more crap?
So the boss said: wait, let me get back to you, I needed to ask for the big boss's permission.

So he came back to me yesterday.
Nope.
Because I just got a raise a couple of months ago. So, we'll provide you with just more bonus in a few months, then, we'll see how you perform then we'll rise up your paycheck.

Ok... first of all, I did not ask to be a team lead.
Don't shove me more responsibilities without any incentive. Don't shove me responsibilities, new title without me asking for it, then want to 'evaluate' me on this.
I'm not a social worker who voluntarily work my ass off unpaid to make the world a better place to live. I work so that I can go sky diving this summer, buy food for Bandit, and buy some friggin' bling bling whenever I feel like it.

Also, then I asked if they are going to expedite my green card process.
Nope, they are going with the slow process, which is a much sure bet, but take, like, forever to get done.

So, today, I said to my boss: Dude, thanks, but no thanks.

Then he somewhat beg me to take the position with all the praises of how the clients just love me and the coworkers think that I am great.

Talk is cheap.
And it won't help buying me those expensive non-meat turkey and baby back ribs.

Gosh, I better stop this post and update my resume.

2008-04-26T08:46:00.003-05:00

A buddy of mine from work and I finally formed a blog.
About our boss.
So that we can gripe, whine, complain, bitch out.
http://thestupidboss.blogspot.com/
Because, c'mon, seriously, We were asked last week to go to the main office and pretend to work there because a bigwig client is coming to town and going to visit the office and it's a big but empty office.
So, instead of telling the client: Yeah, the office is empty because 90% of us works at the client site, they have chosen to send us there, so we can fill in the cubicles and pretend for two hours that we actually sit there on daily basis.

By the way, I said no and I didn't go.

2008-04-22T08:19:00.004-05:00

I'm late to work, but ...
Whatever.
A friend inspired me to sky-dive.
I'm thinking about it, pondering whether I will actually do it. And if they need push me out of the plane because I won't muster enough strength to jump on my own.
Whether I'll pee in my pants. Literally.
Will I pass out?
Or, will I remember to pray to God, since, I'll be 5 thousand feet closer to Him at that time.

Interesting... just considering it makes me feel like I need to write a will.

Yes, I have it

2008-03-21T20:38:00.003-05:00

Week after week I have been thinking about so many 'why's lately.
So many 'why's that I feel so tired.
I do think that quarter life crisis exists.
I have it.
It's either I have it or I am hypochondriac.
Won't I be a hypochondriac if I genuinely think that I am hypochondriac?
OK. I won't confuse you more.

So, this is what it is like to be an adult. Fully independent. Working your ass off, totally responsible of your own health, what you eat, what you buy, who should do your tax, service your car, make sure you don't miss a nephew's birthday, call your mom, and actually listen to your mom's issue (and not the other way around). Go to church, go to work, go to the grocery store, do your laundry, iron your work shirts, email to your dad, cook for yourself (who else would?), vacuum the whole house from all the dog hair, look at dust and think 'Hm,... dust is the by product of dust mites, so if I see dust, it's as good as an indication that the mites exist, should I Clorox everything to kill it? Dilemma between cleaning some more or just drop the whole thing and have some rest. I've seen pictures of dust mites. So I know what those suckers look like, except in my head they're as big as a cat. Water the plant, pray for my fish, Munchy, who is sick and at the moment is swimming sideways so that God will give it another chance. Pay bills on time, pay mortgage on time. Remember when to change the oil, check my mails, add my windshield water, change my raggedy window wiper.
What else do I miss?

Now, my whys.
Why the heck does someone stays in the fastest lane but only driving 60 miles an hour.
Why do my hair so puffy on some days? I look like Tina.
Turner that is.
Why can't everybody just be quiet? I can't hear myself think.
Why do I life here? Here in the US like there's no other country where I can settle down and move on with my life.
Why aren't I interested to go clubbing again? Have I gone old and moldy.
Talking about old, I think I have more wrinkles then ever. And eye bags as big as Santa's belly.
Why can't I have a night of sleep without dreams.
Why are my dreams are all fill with stressful and weary emotions?
Why do I feel like happiness is just a virtual concept?

I feel so restless.

There...
I thought I won't bitch about life, but I guess today I do. And it doesn't even make me feel better.
I don't know what to do.

2008-02-23T09:35:00.002-06:00

The other day was so cold that I thought to myself, why don't I just move to Alaska if I want this kind of weather. It is so freaking cold, it hurt to breathe.
So, out of curiosity, I googled "weather in Alaska", only to find out that, it was warmer over there than here. By 16 degrees.
The world is coming to an end.
Nuff said...

2008-02-20T23:51:00.002-06:00

Having been slaving my ass off, my boss and my boss' boss informed me today that I got a raise, and a bonus too.
Goody.
So I called my mom about my raise, right.
And I thought that I would get a oh-congratulation-sweetie kinda respond but instead, the respond was a minuscule "oh" and followed by unenthusiastic "how much bump is it per paycheck" and "oh, they could've done better than that".
Yep, she burst my bubble with a saber, totally wreck the sense of achievement that I had going before calling her.
Party-pooped my evening.
My boyfriend asked, whether I lost the happiness I had when I went home today bringing the news.
I said, I felt like I accomplished something. It feels good to know that the director of the Demand Planning Group said to the President of the client's company that he would want only me as his single point of contact on issues or questions and not even need to talk to my boss. So it wasn't like I was just happy for the raise, but I feel accomplished.
And after the phone call, I felt disappointed.

I think, I might have been Americanized. Not really in a good way. Because Americans have this tendency to be big in sugar coated praises like, oh honey, good for you! or I'm so proud of you. Oh, wonderful. Excellent. Perfect. Way to go!
And my mom is the mother of all practicality, let me get the calculator first and break down the number.

Well, anyway, I got a raise!
So, there.
Whatever....

2008-02-16T21:36:00.000-06:00

Quote of the day: "Bandit! Don't eat yellow snow!"

2008-02-09T18:49:00.000-06:00

The comments on my previous posting made me smile. Now I know I have girlfriends who'll be there when I get married, have kids, (if ever) get a divorce (knock on wood), menopause, sag, get a face lift, sag again, get all over lift, form a Golden Girls Club and die.

The Wedding Gown

2008-01-20T18:29:00.000-06:00

Moment of truth: Having being engaged for almost three years and never have the chance to actually wear my dress is kind of wearing me out. I don't want to sound like whiny ditsy girl whose goal of life is to have a 'magical' fantastic extravagant wedding day with my prince charming riding in a chariots pulled by white sparkling horses with a party that is the talk of the century, but being engaged for so long is really is not normal.
But, oh well, since we have some issues moving on to the 'W' day, we are still engaged.
Not yet married.
And not yet have a date (just in case anyone asks. Seems like it is the most asked question there is about our relationship. And I'm not being bitchy, just informational).

We are postponing because we are waiting for my boyfriend's greencard, which apparently costs us three years of our non-wed lives already.
I bought my dress ages ago, before knowing that we'll have to wait. There was a sale going on, so I just bought it. Only to find, two days later, in the lawyer's office, that my boyfriend has to stay single until he gets his greencard.

Then the wedding gown store had another sale. Then another sale then another sale. Then another sale.

And once in a while I took a peek at my dress. Making sure that the color is still white and that there's no brown spots whatsoever. And I'm thanking my taste for picking a classic kind of dress, not the trendy looking ones which style might only last a few months, or maybe a year. Top. I made sure that everything is still intact, keeping the mental image of how I looked in it and how I really liked it. Man, I really don't know when the big day is and if the wedding gown can make it. And in what state will it be by then. Darn it.

Sometimes sadness came rushing in, but I never the kind who sulks at corner of my room wondering why life is hard. Because hardship makes one's soul more sustainable. It is just part of life. Just like Virginia Woolfs, hardship brings mental strength, if not inspirations. Although I don't want to have bipolar disorder and then drown myself.

My sweet boyfriend said sorry once in a while when he sees me looking a bit down. On which I smile at him and said, that it's okay and that it's not no one's fault.

Then the other day, I saw, yet another commercial on TV. The store is having... guess what... yet another sale. So I told my boyfriend, "Do you know what I'm gonna do with my wedding gown after the wedding day?"
"What?"
"I'm going to sell it back home. And give you back the money, after all you bought my that dress" (Note: it is old custom. Long story. We were keeping the parents happy. Well, mine, actually).
"What? Oh... yeah... that's right, we have a wedding gown already for you. You know, you don't have to wear that one. Once we are moving on and actually getting married, we'll get another one. Don't worry about the old one, Hunny".
Then he gave me a peck on the cheek and a hug.

I stood there. In the middle of the kitchen. Tears welled up and throat was closing in. Simply because, I have been hanging on that dress with my dear life, with my prayers. Because he bought that dress. Not his parents. He bought me the dress. Damn it! And, maybe without knowing, he released my burden.
And I thought, hardship also proves one's true character. And I'm winning a lottery with this one.

Sunday Afternoon Nap

2008-01-15T23:44:00.000-06:00

Look what surprise my boyfriend sent me about 10 minutes ago.

It's a Sunday afternoon. What else can one do?

2008-01-09T22:51:00.000-06:00

People are giving us free dog food. Pedigree did, Petco gave us coupons of free food.
My boyfriend's church member gave us a humongous bag of dog food.
I guess now I'm in the circle of the fellowship of adopting pet parents.

By the way, I was driving out of my house complex to work this morning and I put on Michael Franks' Down in Brazil. Though the trees are bald and I'm wearing a wool coat and a sweater underneath. For three and a half minute, I felt like it's summer and I was walking by a beach.
Sigh,... that song is a masterpiece.
I'm going to Brazil one day, and I'm going to see if it actually takes a day to walk a mile.

The Dog

2008-01-06T20:39:00.000-06:00

Having spent the last month barely blog or even give news to anyone, here I am.
Full of dog hair, sitting in front of my notebook.
My sweet boyfriend almost 'gave' me a dog for my birthday, and I said, no way, I'm gonna purchase it with our credit card, so that this dog will surely be 'ours' (instead of mine) and he will have to also take care of it.
So, I did. I adopted a dog. A sad looking dog from the Humane society. I picked the one that no one wanted, the one that has been in the pound for quite a while, the one that's older (since the puppies are hot sale). And I adopted instead of buying from a pet store because the price that we paid was actually a donation to the humane society, so that they can keep saving and taking care of neglected animals. So,... shame on you who bought pets from a pet store. For your information, more than 4 millions animals were euthanized each year in the US. (In this case, also, shame on Paris Hilton. She bought hers from a store).
Anyway, on a lighter note, the dog is a riot. He likes car ride and walking a lot.
I seriously think he's mental. He barks on school buses and the garbage trucks. He has breath issue that we need to take care. Seriously.
We need to take him to the vet to get his teeth cleaned, because, boy, the breath is a killer.
I don't think he had a good past, since he is very timid at times. But I think sooner than later he would understand, that I don't hit.
So he doesn't have to close his eyes in terrors when I raise my hands. Or be jumpy all the time and not let anyone touch his tail.
It's a hassle really. Having a dog. And it's a mess. And it's costly.
But I guess, having no family here makes one feels kinda lonely at times.
Although my boyfriend is almost always around, but he's busy sometimes.
I just realize that Bandit, the dog, does fill the hole I feel of having no company.
Because he would come to me when I'm alone. And the he would stand on his two feet. Then I'd pick him up.
And he'd lick my face. And I would say how stinky his mouth is, and threaten to take him to the doctor.
Then he would lick me again.
Then this time, I'd just hold my breath and bear with it.
Then he would put his cheek on my cheek.
And I would start slowly moving, doing a little tip toe dance.
And start singing silly songs about dogs (Like "Bandit, gug guk guk, kemari, guk guk guk...")
And he would cling still, enjoying being held.
And I would do a slow dance and hum in the middle of my big empty bedroom enjoying holding him while we are sealing each other's loneliness.

2007-12-13T23:04:00.000-06:00

Oh Holy cow,
I think I'm going to adopt a dog.

The Reasons Why

2007-11-25T13:53:00.000-06:00

It is a known fact to people who had stumbled upon my blog before, that I have an air-head boss. Oh, who, by the way, will go on vacation almost for the whole month of December.
Joy, joy.

Why do I hate him so? Well,... when he talks and tries to finish a sentence, most of the time he would get distracted and talk about something else, hence forgot to finish the first sentence.
Meaning, then, forgot why he wanted to talk to you in the first place.
So, a five minute discussion would most likely end up in 20 minutes without valid points, then along the way, other thoughts usually spring and he would remember tasks that he had forgotten to do and assigned you to 'help him with this or that because you're the best person to do it'. Because you're awesome and great.

So, I hate him, basically because of this:
I'm a bottom-line kind of girl. Finish your sentences and be done with the discussion in 5 minutes. I don't want to waste the other 15 minutes of my time listening to him blabbers. The kind of people that talks without a point really gets to me.
Secondly, I'm not his freaking maid. I'm an IT consultant for Nicole Kidman's sake.
Let's talk about what I can do. Technology wise, Oracle wise, PL/SQL wise, Unix wise, how to prevent the issue that we had yesterday, or whatever. But not about how he's swamped with his work, and doesn't have the time to create an organization chart for his administrative /
management meeting and since I'm good at PowerPoint assigns me secretary jobs.
Thirdly, I hate it when he does point number two, there will be lines like: Because you're really good at excel spreadsheet, or, you did wonderfully on that power point for the organization chart. I can't stand manipulative people.

So basically,... that's why. In a nutshell.

Based on the above, the other day, when it was 3 minutes before 5 pm, when we were suppose to go home, he called my next cubicle coworker (who had gone for the day).
I checked the caller id while putting on my coat and my other coworker asked:
"Who's that?"
(Grinning) "The boss"
(Coworker grinned too) "Oh,... aren't you gonna answer that?"
"Of course not. Do you wanna?"
"Oh,.. nooo"
"Let's just go" (Giggle giggle).
She was also leaving, but then she stopped.
"Oh,... wait a minute, what if he can't get a hold of anyone and then call the on-call blackberry? I have the on-call blackberry this week."
"Oh, crap,... quick, forward all your call."
"But to who???"
(Silent...)
"To himself! So when he calls he'll get another call on his call from himself."
(Laugh giggle giggle).
"Is that possible?"
"No silly, let's go, he won't call you. He might already have forgotten why he calls in the first place by now anyway..."
So with that, we went home.

And that is why I need a new job, even though to drag yourself to really look for one is really, really tough.

Thanksgiving Ponder

2007-11-20T21:54:00.000-06:00

To eat turkey or not, that's the question.
Having never been really took fancy in turkey anyway, I think I'm going to skip it this year.
My boyfriend with his vegetarian spirits has also sent me a link: 10 reasons not to eat chicken, with links in the web page itself to other articles such as: 10 reasons not to eat pigs, 10 reasons not to eat cows, 10 reasons not to eat tuna, 10 reasons not to eat turkeys and so on.

You got the message.

To tell you the truth, I've been reducing almost like 90% of my meat consumption anyway, after a coworker just violated my ignorance bubble and shoved me a PETA magazine full of horror stories and pictures of how badly they treat the animals. Since then, I'm somewhat vegetarian,... most of the time.
Except for dimsum and when I go to Olive Garden & have some Zuppa Toscana (everyone has their weaknesses, you know).

So, I'm not eating turkey this year. Although, come to think of it, I'm not pardoning a turkey. My boyfriend's family still bought a turkey anyway, and will roast it. There will only be more leftovers this year. A turkey still died (get murdered) for the occasion.
And even if his family did not bought a turkey, a turkey carcass would have still been there. Frozen, in the grocery's freezer. Dead.
But, mentally I will feel better, that I don't partake in that, thanks to the article which has successfully emotionally blackmailed me. See what it said about Turkeys:
"Turkeys are “smart animals with personality and character, and keen awareness of their surroundings, ... are social, playful birds who enjoy the company of others... relish having their feathers stroked and like to chirp, cluck, and gobble along to their favorite tunes."
Shit.
They make a turkey sounds like a human.
Now I can't see turkey the same way again.
Ever.
And I'll have to eat Tofurkey forever.

Everybody knows ~~a turkey~~ some tofu and some mistletoe
Help to make the season bright
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow
Will find it hard to sleep tonight - The Christmas Song

Nice weather, friend or foe?

2007-11-13T20:23:00.001-06:00

The tree at the back of the house has finally gone completely bald. And so does the maple tree by the driveway.
Fall is here.
And it is true what my boyfriend said, which was that the sunlight is different when it's fall or spring. the angle is never really straight down, like when it's summer.
I noticed that today, when I escaped from work during lunch and had a quiet lunch in a Chinese restaurant. The host set me a table by the window (Table for one, I said, holding my breath, because the last time I went there by myself, it seems like it was they were in total confusion how one would want to dine by herself. But today, he just nodded quietly and took me to a nice quiet corner by the window).
It was about noon, but the shadows of the yellow-leafed trees were long, and it was surreal because it's noon, but still nice. I felt like pulling out my laptop and start writing a book, while sipping my Chinese tea. But of course, I don't have my laptop with me and I only have like an hour lunch break and my air-headed boss would soon enough wonder where I am because he needs to assign me more things, his things that he doesn't know how to do. Plus I don't drink tea.
So, I just sat there, waiting for my order to arrive and I saw a squirrel crossing the street and I remember thinking, oh, stupid squirrel, this is why I see many of you, flatten out in the middle of the road. Hurry. Hurry. Blast, you stressed me out in the middle of my zen-like lunch. I held my breath. But then he got to the other side safely (exhale).
Come to think of my nice getaway, I don't know if I should thank God for a nice day, or be concerned that for a mid November we still have a high of 60 Fahrenheit. My boyfriend's sister told us that her shedding tree has a few tiny flowers. Even the trees are confused.
The earth is dying,... or to come for better words, it is having a fever.
I just hope there's a way out of this. I read an article in a newspaper about how to go green. And it is to choose the right leaders. Because, although you use efficient energy, drive a hybrid and recycle, it would make more impact if you have a leader that cares about the environment, since that person can enforce, in a much bigger scale, bills and decisions that would have changed a country.
You know what this means, right?
That until Santa joins the presidential race, you better start building your boat, just in case the Arctic ice melts some more that it has already been.

2007-11-01T00:36:00.000-05:00

It has become so apparent that I have no respect left for the knuckle head boss that it is so hard for me to even focus on what he's saying.
My eyes wonder and I'm in autopilot with my noddings and "uh huh".

And what's even more ridiculous, is that either he's so self-centered that he only cares about his own voice anyway or that he's so air headed that he doesn't realize that people don't like him or pay attention to him at all.

Ah,... the things I'm gonna say on the day that I resign....

The Art of Going Back Home

2007-10-29T23:43:00.000-05:00

Surreal.
My trip to home has always been like that.
Surreal.
Like in the movies when someone stands still in a crowded place and everyone else is moving, walking so fast like they are all in fast-forward mode.
It's like that. Like I'm watching everything in lightning speed and all of a sudden, it's time for me to go back here.
I promised to visit a friend's grave but failed to do so. I didn't even got the chance to meet Scal.
Sorry, Bro, you'll be on my top list next time. Promise. Scout's honor.
I learned a few things when I got back this time.
One is to tell my mom not to cook. Not to be unappreciative, but there's only such room in my tummy. And I have to tell her BEFORE I even landed... because by then, it'll be too late.
Two, never try to pay attention to the traffic. And Never make sense out of it. Just close your eyes and hope we'll be there in one piece.
Three, the ladies don't wait in line. Not when waiting for a fitting room, not in the ladies room, not when paying in a department store... nowhere. It's a constant battle.
Four, roaches are everywhere. And I mean everywhere. They visit all kind of places, including your own room through the slit between your door and the floor. Bring weapon to kill everywhere you go. I had my dad's big sandal around the house. It worked. I got the job done 90% of the time. Not bad.
Five, The street food. They're really really good. But never watch how the seller prepare it. With bare hands.
Six, Spend time with the nephews, even though that means playing board games (Jumanji & Monopoly) for hours. Spend time with your brother and sister, even though it means visiting her house in a far far away land, and eating porridge in strange places with your brother, just to see how happy they are that you're around.
Seven, Hug them a lot. You don't get to do that after you're back here, sitting in front of your laptop, writing about all this, even though deep down your heart is wrenching and you question your every decision to be so far apart from them. My brother said, everyone has their own fate, and it's my fate to have a better life elsewhere.
I'm just thinking what is a better life anyway if I only get to see the people that matter most to me once every two years, in a three weeks period maximum?

The question remains... yet to be answered.

I'm going home

2007-10-06T07:14:00.001-05:00

I have been away from this blog for so long, my laptop didn't even store the web address anymore.
Well,... it is kind of weird for me to be up and about this early on Saturday, but, I have to because,...
I'm going back home to Jakarta.
I'm saying bye-bye to the suckers at work for three weeks and going to sunbathe under the sun on a beach somewhere there.
Not Ancol though, mind you...

I honestly did not feel much excitement, since, I hate flying and the 21 hours in the air is going to be too much for me.
But I'm out of Indonesian spices stock, and my family there has been bursting with joy with the thoughts of being able to spend time with me for three weeks, so I gave in.

I was told the whole family is going to pick me up. Yup,... 12 people will pick me up at the airport. I really really don't see the need for them to do so, but saying "don't bother" might sound kind of unappreciative.
So,... sigh... here I go, bracing myself for the first round of torture, 12 hours and 55 minutes from here to Tokyo.
Oy,...
I just remember, I need to find those sleeping pills.

I know,.. I know... I've got issues.

Later, y'all.

Old Habit Dies Hard

2007-09-03T01:58:00.000-05:00

Guess what I found in the ladies room in the Indonesian Consulate in Chicago.
I don't even know what the English word is for this red thing. But, as a person thinking that we are living & soaking in a western culture, this brought a big smile. Like when the first time I found tempe in whole foods market.

P.S. Ah, according to a website I found from Google, this is a...
(drum roll)....
...
...
A dipper.
There we go. A dipper in a dry bathroom full of toilet tissues.

2007-08-26T16:30:00.001-05:00

A topic came up about me being home alone without my boyfriend around and the what-ifs on burglars and friends breaking an entry to my house.

Later that day, he came back to the house with a big baseball bat for me to hide under the sofa. I find it funny, yet, serious. If you know what I mean.

So, I practiced beating up an imaginary person with it while he's laughing at me though I don't care.
It was pretty liberating actually.
And now we know, if, knock on wood, some stupid burglar decides to break in, I'll be ready to beat him up to pulp.

2007-08-19T23:55:00.000-05:00

Although never really explicitly expressed, I really really appreciate my boyfriend, who knows that I hate doing dishes and has been taking the tasks practically of the time.

And that I hate chopping onions and always offer to help.

And always takes care of the garbage.

Ah, the simple things in life that strangely can make me sure that despite all the money, I have a better life than Britney Spears.

Three Men & Jewelry Headache

2007-08-17T22:54:00.001-05:00

Three is the total number of men I've dated.
I remember when I was much much younger, my mom told me to not really be attached to the guy dated. It happened on a palmistry session with an old Chinese man with lots of wrinkle while he was pointing at my palm with a toothpick (mind you, it was a clean one, I made sure of that). He predicted a lot, which I can't recall anymore. However, one of the things I do recall he said is that I am the kind of person who would really devote her feelings to guy she's dating.
And my mom nodded with this expression, as if I shouldn't do that. Like, I shouldn't put all my eggs in one basket. And that I should date more.

But, I find it hard to do. I don't really get easily impressed with men, so I passed on many of them. Also, I don't want to purposely date multiple guys in the same time frame. And I also don't want to date one guy over another just like they are diapers. Wear and toss kind of attitude.
It is funny because she herself didn't date much when she was young. And she's the most faithful person on earth to my dad. Shouldn't she know that I inherited this from herself?

Anyway.

In the spirit of devotion, I just realized something the other day when I was in the office restroom, washing my hands and staring at myself.
I was wearing a pair of earrings that I got from an ex.
I remembered putting it on one morning when my mind was still dormant and I was just auto-piloting through my morning routine.
Now,...

Believe me when I say that I don't have sentimental memories by keeping the exes' gifts / jewelry. And I did ask myself, why on earth still I keep them?
I think I keep them just because they have real monetary value.
I did not even really think of it, until I asked myself, would I want my boyfriend to be wearing a gift from an ex. And immediately realized, I just had to get rid of them.

But, what should I do with them?
Toss them in the garbage?

I'm back

2007-08-04T23:03:00.000-05:00

It's really been a while since the last time I blogged.
Oh, how the world...
... stays the same.
I wish I'm bungee jumping somewhere exotic or sailing on some foreign place and enjoying the sun.
But, instead, I'm furniture hunting.
It does give me a bit of satisfaction, when I find a good deal on a dining table from Crate and Barrel, or find a bunch of lucky bamboos with the perfect height for that square vase I bought last week (yes, that would pretty much excites me), but, if in the future someone asks me, "what did you do last summer?" Then, I might have to make something up.

BTW, I haven't been blogging simply because I didn't have a workstation to really sit and waste my time thinking about the meaning of life (i.e. post an entry on my blog). And also, then Harry Potter & the Deathly Hollows got in the way.
But I finished it last night.
And also, I finally bought a desk to put in my bedroom, by the window, overlooking some tree.
So I should be able to blog again. Writing about nothing.
Like now...

Anyway, last week, my boyfriend and I went to this decorating class (courtesy of Pottery Barn). I tricked him, well, at first it was innocent, but later on, I started to wonder if he's gonna be the only male there.
Thank goodness, there were also two other male victims amongst us. And by us, I meant me and, like, 30 other females.
So, he's the third male.
And he survived the class.
And even almost at the end of the class, I thought I saw some movement next to me where he was and...
By gosh,... he raised his hand and asked a question.
I thought I was seeing things. I held my breath.
But, really, I should be applauding him, since, apparently, the question was SUPER important, which was:
"I have a lot of remote controls. Where should I keep my remotes so the table doesn't look cluttered?"
Ah,... the ultimate mind boggling question in every household. The relationship of men and his remotes.
And I said that because all the thirty ladies giggles in full understanding and the two other men grinned and the teacher said "That is a very good question!"

I wonder now, if he would be interested to join the next class next month.

2007-07-09T22:36:00.000-05:00

I have a tree on my backyard which apparently hosts lots of fireflies. Thus, at night when I sit on my balcony, I'd see lights twinkling, blinking, coming out from the tree.
It is a wonderful sight.
People say that the feeling of having your first house is indescribable. I don't feel that high.
Not that I don't love having a 'somewhat' permanent place to live, but, indescribable feeling is, for me, when I hug my mom after two years of half the world separation. Or when my boyfriend put his arms around my shoulder and sniff my hair, or a simple smile & 'hey' greeting from him after a rotten day at work.
Having a house... is an accomplishment. I don't feel that high, because I don't get it for free.

I waited for that high feeling when I moved in. It hasn't kicked in yet. What comes instead is the constant lengthy calculation in my head, and the disturbance of those boxes, screaming to be unpacked.

I don't feel the 'high'.

But I do feel at home. And I'm happy with this place. I feel like I made the right decision. That I'm going to the right direction.
I feel good about this. And the fireflies confirm it. At nights, it's just us. The fireflies and me, they keep me company.

The other day, I killed a spider. It's bigger than the ones I usually see. With longer legs (hence bigger steps, hence faster speed).
Oh well,... the life in the suburb.
I'm not keen to animals with lots of legs, to say the least, but I guess I didn't have the time to be a sissy. I needed to kill it before it ran and hide inside.
I remember thinking cynically, soon enough after this, I'll get over my cockroach phobia and conquer the world.

I have a deck and a balcony overlooking to some trees and a golf course, balanced with a loan with Citi mortgage.

Man,...
I have a house.

Oh, I better double check that I have scheduled the next mortgage payment online, due on August 1st.

2007-06-16T09:44:00.000-05:00

Watching a good friend going through a divorce is tough. I can't imagine being her. And being a non expert of the subject, I resorted to the most obvious thing a girlfriend can do to help lessen the pain.

I took her to the mall for a shopping spree.

And by gosh... it worked. Well,... of course not entirely, but it worked. And I guess, deeper than that, as we roamed in the mall, we talked, and the combination of those two yielded a very good result.
Sometimes the dry joke of life is dryer than Sahara. As I just bought a house with my boyfriend, she's selling her house and splitting it with her soon-to-be-ex-husband.
But she marches through, and I'll be holding her hand till the end.

2007-06-02T08:11:00.000-05:00

OH HOLY COW,... I'm so in the wrong city!
I don't belong in Bolingbrook, IL. According to this, I belong in London.

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern.
A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.
A unique soul like you needs a city that offers everything.
No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong In?

Happily Broke

2007-05-28T20:05:00.000-05:00

We're gonna do the home closing this Wednesday.
After we sign it. We'll be a homeowner.
Sigh...

To think that I came here and lived in a 350 sqr foot apartment where I sleep, study, watch TV, cook, eat in one room, it is overwhelming to think that I am gonna own a house. It's been a long way, you see.

And I know I bitch a lot, because life is not always a joy ride.
But I am thankful. And I am overjoyed.
Broke.
But happy.

And I'm bringing my cactus there, which by the way, now I have the total of three.

Meet Hairy and William. Guess which one is which.

Why Blond?

2007-05-22T19:49:00.000-05:00

What is it about being blond?
No, no... I'm not being discontent when I asked that.
I'm just wondering.
There was an article that I read about 7 years ago in National Geographic. My dad subscribed National Geographic and made me realize that beauty magazines are really not 'all that'. Every month, the magazine came and I got the kind of thrill that no beauty magazine could ever provide me.
There was an article, 'Enigma of Beauty', which discussed the plethora of angles about beauty. It was a very interesting, strong article, to say the least. It made me realize why some girls can be the 'mean girls' in high-school. And some can just be some mean bully. Period. And why I had a friend in high school who had a nose job when she was 16.
I think my own beauty rituals too. My eyebrows have to be perfectly arched. My pedicure routine, my blush, my mascara, to name a view. I do limit myself though. believe it or not. I don't want the make up or fashion or trend to wear me. I have to be the one who wear them.

I was in Bali Ngurah Rai airport waiting for our chartered car to arrive, when my 4 year-old nephew staring far across the long hall and he said, amazed and in awe "Daddy, there's a girl over there with yellow hair. Isn't she pretty?" He said innocently.
I and my brother turned our heads and there she was, a little white girl about my nephew's age, with long hair flowing touched by the wind standing there with her family, holding hands with her mom. I could almost hear a Bossa song playing and people moves in slow motion. I guess that little girl gave the illusion of an goddess or something of the sort.
Made me think of a particular part of the article although I'm sure that the little girl's hair color is real:
" Hair-care product companies estimate that in the U.S. 40 percent of women who color their hair choose blond, a choice women also made in ancient Greece."

My nephew likes blond.

Like most men in modern world.

I was watching American Idol finale just now and Bette Middler was singing 'Wind Beneath my Wings'. Her hair has inspired me to finally write about this blond phenomenon. Her hair was so blond, she looked like she hasn't aged (well, I have to admit, maybe other enhancements took place too). Her hair shades reminded me of Marilyn Monroe's hair color. And talking about Marilyn, I can't can't can't imagine her as a brunette. Like that article said, maybe only the hairdresser knew the real hair color for sure.

I just asked my boyfriend when he called me if I should color my hair blond.
He said, uhm,... up to you.
But do you like me being blond?
Uhm,... it's up to you, I don't mind either way.
But, in general, do you prefer blonds?
Uhm, Actually, I like dark haired women. Short dark hair.

I smiled and thought: Well well well. What are the odds? I have a man in the minority pie. Men who prefer dark hair.
This works.
Because I like my hair black. Just the way it is. I'm thinking, if many people are coloring their hair blond, I will actually stand out in the crowd.

2007-05-15T22:22:00.000-05:00

We got an email today that some creep was in the women's restroom in the next building. Then he got arrested and charged with disorderly conduct. I wonder what he was doing there. Because, if he got into the wrong restroom, he should have just simply gone back out.

Of course, the world is full with creeps. But this raises an alarm for the girls, because the building management now suggests that the ladies go to the restroom in groups. I mean... not colossally, but with a friend.
Imagine, now you can't even pee and make it your own privacy.
Darn those creeps!

2007-05-12T08:00:00.000-05:00

It has been about more than a week ago that my best friend at work told me that she's separating with her husband. Do you know that you have to be separated for at least 6 month before you can actually file for a divorce?

She told me that she has gotten a full load of advise left and right. One girlfriend told her: You and your silly perception of how marriage works! Of course that you should not spend much time with your husband. You are supposed to get out there and have your own fun and not be with him all the time. You'll drive him crazy.
My girlfriend told me: I thought that's the reason why someone would get married. To be with each other. To bond. To be like a set of Siamese twin and finish each other's sentences.

This makes me think of my boyfriend and how he always welcome some time of solitude and I start to think that he might actually see too much of me. Which is funny because in the old days when we're not dating yet, he always tried to come by, and at that time I was 40 miles away in downtown. Now, it is only 9 miles away and I don't see any intensity of him coming to my place.

I don't know much about marriage because I'm not in one. Yet. But, since I'm heading that way, and all most of the people I know in marriages are in agony, I'm pretty discouraged. Well, shouldn't I be? And this theory about not being around your husband or you'll drive him away, I think is a load of crap.
I think I just don't see how that is considered a marriage. You might as well be single.

I think though, despite all that, marriage is about taking risk anyway.
I know someone who's been cheating on his wife even to the point that he was in bed with someone else when the wife gave labor.
I know someone who's into his secretary rather than his wife.
I know a girl who celebrated her bachelorette night with an ex-boyfriend.
I know a wife who gave birth to a son, who's not her husband's.
I know someone who ran away with some other woman, leaving the wife 3 months pregnant.
I know all sort of horror stories, real people. People that I know. Real lives.
And yet, I'm still hopeful that mine will work.

Stupid and naive?
I guess.
Because, if I don't give it a try, I'll wonder forever of the possibility that I pass on a happy life.
And that... that'll drive me crazy.

We're buying a house

2007-05-07T22:17:00.000-05:00

I think I'm coming down with something. And I think I'm coming down with something because I'm all stressed out.

I & my boyfriend are buying a FREAKING HOUSE. I think all the tension has finally affected my immune system. I have been on the phone the whole day with my boyfriend, my mortgage broker, my lawyer, my Realtor, my mom, my dad, my house inspector,.... all in the office, balancing with the usual manic Monday.

Never in my life I can really feel my immune system starts failing on me by the hour. I need some sleep.

But on the lighter note,...
I am buying a freaking house.
I have a house.
With a fireplace.
And big kitchen.
With a balcony facing a golf course.
Oh how I love balconies.

This stress is totally worth it.

Party of One. Yes, One.

2007-04-28T21:36:00.000-05:00

I went for Dim Sum by myself today. Shrimp dumpling, chicken feet, chives dumpling,... hm,...
So I took a shower, I drove & entered the restaurant.
The host asked: "How many?" Asking me, how many people will it be in my party.
I said: "One!"
Then she said: "Sorry?"
I said: "Just one."
Then she said: "I'm sorry, I don't understand that."

Uhm,..
So, I pointed my index finger up in front of her and tried again "One person only."
"Oh,..." (a very brief pause) " Please follow me" She said nicely.

Then I was escorted to a table and the waitress hurried up to my table and asked the hostess "How many?"
Then the hostess said "Just one."
"Just one?"
Man,... don't people go to eat just by themselves lately?
I do wonder if they really find it that odd? Because I couldn't care less. It is as simple as this: I had some craving for dim sum and my dim sum buddies are all gone, and my boyfriend doesn't eat pork or seafood. So,... party of one it is.
Just fabolous me.
But if it is easier for them to see, I will bring my ducky stuffed animal next time to sit next to me and claim party of two instead.

2007-04-22T20:29:00.000-05:00

All of you who are the youngest in the family, raise you hand!
I betcha that you have felt the syndrome of the-baby-in-the-family treatment from your parents.
Isn't it crazy that even when you are fully capable, fully independent, fully grown they still try to make the decisions for you?
My dear old dad still needs reminder that he should kick back and relax and let me do my own thing. Last week, he just did something that realllly realllly tested my nerves. Like, approaching my boyfriend's extended families and formed a plan (or I should say, threw some ideas up in the air) on behalf of me and my boyfriend.
Yup, without consulting me.
And yup, without consulting my boyfriend.
I don't think he ever approached my sister-in-law or brother-in-law's directly like that.

Dear dad has this tendency to take care of me, since, forever. In the past, before I went here, to the US, I was driven around by him or whoever that has the time, and at a certain period of times had a designated driver to drive me around. Meanwhile my sister was jumping in and out of busses like a pro. I never wrote a check, never knew how to write it, never pay a bill, didn't know how to pay it anyway. So, when I got here, it was kind of embarrassing to consult someone on how to actually write a check.

So, I was mad, obviously, when he took matters to his own hand. MY matter. Although I know, dear dad... he's at the age when most men would start having this post-power syndrome, or whatever it is called, and this might be part of that doggone thing.
So, I talked to him letting him know, in a very nice way, that he needs to get through me for any brilliant ideas that he has, and let me talk to my boyfriend, and let my boyfriend talked it out with his family. But, that didn't work.
Well, dad,... you asked for it. So,... I talked to my mom and let her tell him. Mom is great. She gets the work done.

How mad can you be to your dad, though? Though you most definitely have your downs and disappointments and disagreement. I hated his guts at times. I hated the fact that he hated most of my boyfriends and gave them such a hard time. Hated that he never really have enough faith in me and my driving the car. Hated his paranoia when I went out with friends and hadn't been back past 10 freaking pm. Hated the fact that he was very short temper, and that I inherit it from him. I hate it that he never really taught me what it is that he is doing in the office.

But, these past years, every time I saw him, his aging process was very visible. Every time I saw him, he looked much more older than the last time I saw him.
And it broke my heart.
The bad-quality pictures that he sent still showed his gray hair, gray mustache, wrinkles and wattle.
I remember he said when I was like, 13 or 14, "Cil, find a guy that loves you. The one who loves you so much that he would give up everything for you." I remember thinking, ah,... piece of cake. And apparently, it wasn't a piece of cake.
I also remember he said when using knife for self-defense, stab hard....
And, another good one, don't let a guy buy you off with jewelry. Especially if you don't even like the guy.
Be a lady. Don't swear.
Or some of his fantabulous ideas like: "Do you want to learn how to golf? It might be useful one day when you are an adult and need to lobby some big shot VP". Yeah,... but I was only 16 or 17.

Dearest dad. I think I'm not mad at him anymore.
I actually kinda miss him.

I want my money... now, B****!

2007-04-17T23:50:00.000-05:00