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...

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....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

The Reasons Why

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

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?

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.