The Gamer Cat

This. This is the face that made me realize why I am spending holidays by myself, utterly and totally single, and why it is absolutely worth it. 

This is the face of a person who, by combination of sheer luck and a good play of hand, manage to make 4 highly competitive and extremely skilled players scramble to attack and prevent me from winning. In another game I pushed boundaries just to see how far I could go. That's just who I am. 

I am not playing to win. I am playing to test myself, to see how far I can proceed and how quickly I can adapt to and master my pieces. I am also playing to see how much I can affect the people around me with my moves, and consequently predict theirs. No wonder I am single. 

To be with me means to be constantly challenged, to be always on the race, to take beating on your pride but learn from it and come back stronger. All while being spoiled and pampered by me, showered with love and affection because I am a naturally loving person. 

I do not envy my exes, and I am glad they got away. Let's put it this way: with how I show my true color during board games, the group probably gives the "Our deepest condolences" look to anyone I introduce as my significant other. 

Should I change myself just a bit? Just enough so I can get someone and stop whining about being lonely? I shouldn't. I couldn't. I am most alive with challenges and adventures. 

I want to spend my time with someone who challenge my soul, my mind, and my body, someone who gives me the same exhilaration as a 6+ hours space opera board game. 

It gets lonely when you have standard, but I can't lie to myself anymore. I am a smug, spoiled kitty cat and I know it. It's ok, though. I like myself better now than I've ever been. I'm going to be fine.

Tips Aman Wanita

Akhir tahun ini akan disambut dengan gegap gempita keriaan, dan tangan-tangan yang sibuk menjamah di bawah meja atau didalam gelap. Jangan mau, ya.

Kalau katanya setan ada di dalam gelap, mungkin benar ya. Saat malam semakin larut, pikiran semakin sulit berkonsentrasi. Keriaan yang liar pun menurunkan keraguan dan kejernihan kita dalam mengambil keputusan. Belum lagi segala rayuan dan bisikan, "Kamu nggak sayang aku, ya..?"

"Makanya jangan pergi malam. Jangan merayakan Tahun Baru. Jangan pergi sama lelaki. Kalau kamu kenapa-kenapa salahmu sendiri." Humm… nggak juga sih. Nggak ada salahnya ingin merayakan keriaan. Perempuan jaga diri pun kalau lelaki nggak mau jaga konak ya susah.

Sebagai perempuan kita wajib jaga diri. Sebagai lelaki juga sih. Kita jelas nggak akan santai-santai lewat kawasan rawan garong di larut malam, atau pergi pas hujan tanpa payung/jas hujan. Jadi pas kita keluar main pun penting memastikan sekitar kita aman. Common sense alias masuk akal, kan?

Kalau saya biasanya:

- Mau pakai baju apapun, pastikan bisa gampang bergerak dalam baju tersebut. 

- Pastikan hape dalam kondisi tercharge penuh dan ada batre cadangan. 

- Cek daerah sekitar, lihat-lihat 'tempat aman' seperti minimarket atau bahkan pos polisi

- Uber/nomor kontak darurat sudah ada di posisi gampang terpanggil 

- Informasikan teman terdekat daerah tujuan dan pergi sama siapa. Kalau perlu kirim screenshot nomor telepon/ percakapan dengan orang tersebut dan suruh teman hubungi polisi bila hingga jam sekian saya belum kontak teman saya balik 

Tapi bagaimana saat kita merasa aman, dan justru si serigala datang memangsa? Ya kita mangsa balik hahahahaha.

Selaku perempuan yang punya pilihan (nyaris) tak terbatas untuk teman kencan disini (yang mana semuanya lumayan cakep), saya bisa berkata dengan yakin: orang baik-baik nggak bakalan 'minta'. Percaya deh.

Jangan ditanya ya baju saya disini (maaph ya Mak). Pergi keluar main sampai jauh larut malam pun sudah biasa. Berdansa dekat nan panas menggoda yuk mari. Saling merayu seolah siap lanjut ke tempat tidur juga normal. Tapi pada akhirnya, jangankan ke tempat tidur, saling bersentuhan tangan pun kalau bukan saya yang memulai mereka nggak akan berani.

Ibarat anjing kampung dan anjing ras yang terlatih sih. Disini walau saya tahu mereka sudah siap 'menerkam', mereka nggak akan maju. Terdidik dengan baik, euy. Bukan berarti mereka nggak akan mencoba ya, baik lewat kata-kata ("Mungkin kita bisa istirahat sebentar di tempatmu?") atau mendadak duduk nempel-nempel saya.

Nggak semua orang seperti ini, tentunya. Ada orang-orang yang nggak perduli dan nggak punya rasa hormat pada wanita. Ya seperti anjing kampung tadi, melihat mangsa langsung digasak. Tapi orang-orang yang berkelas ya nggak bakal begitu. 

Saya pernah punya teman kencan yang harus setengah mati saya kasi kode agar dia berani pegang tangan saya. Ada yang sama sekali nggak menyentuh saya saat kencan walau saya tahu dia terus melirik saya. Bahkan yang jelas-jelas playboy pun dengan tulus memperlakukan saya seperti putri.

Itu sih kuncinya, bagaimana kita diperlakukan. Apakah kita diperlakukan karena mereka sayang, atau sekedar nafsu? Lihat dari ekspresi muka mereka saat mengucap segala rayuan, dan saat kita menolak. Orang yang menganggap kita berharga bahkan nggak akan mau meminta keintiman. Kalaupun mereka memberanikan diri mengajak, mereka akan mengerti saat kita menolak.

Kalau saat ini ada pembaca yang bilang: "Wajar mereka minta atau marah saat kita tolak. Namanya juga lelaki, birahi mereka tingggi". Mari saya infokan kalau itu mitos ya bapak-bapak dan ibu-ibu. Saya membuktikan kok. Nafsu besar tenaga kurang itu sangat umum sebenarnya, dan saya nggak akan heran kalau banyak wanita Indonesia di malam pertama berujar: "Hah? Udah, segini doang?"

Kita wanita juga berhak menikmati keriaan dan bukan hanya terkurung di rumah. Tapi kita tetap harus waspada dan menjaga keselamatan kita. Bukan hanya secara jasmaniah, namun juga secara mental dan emosi. Kita harus cerdas menilai apakah pasangan kita 'aman' (dalam artian tidak akan melakukan kekerasan/pemaksaan baik secara fisik ataupun mental), dan apakah ia benar-benar menganggap kita berharga.

Karena yang menganggap kita berharga nggak akan merusak kita. Karena yang menganggap kita sempurna nggak akan menghempaskan kita. Karena yang menganggap kita penting nggak akan membuat kita menangis. Jadi saat dia berkata "Kamu nggak sayang ya sama aku…" anda sudah tahu jawabannya.

Have a safe festivities, girls. Semoga keriaan anda para wanita berjalan dengan aman. Salam sayang dari Los Angeles.

The Second Death

"Sleep, young queen," the priest said. "But what if I sleep forever, and they don't remember me anymore?" He looked at her with an expressionless face, but there was kindness in his deep brown, almost pitch dark eyes.

"Your name will be sung throughout the millenniums," He told her, "Spoken so often that you will never have to face the second death." She was impassive. "Your temples and statues will be the testament of your life, of the beloved queen."

"There is no certainty in that," she answered. "The desert will claim what human has built. Nothing last forever, not even my name." The light from the candles illuminated her beautiful face, basted her in gold and made her looked ethereal.

The priest allowed himself a tiny smile, a smile drenched in pain and sadness because he knew she was right. "But it will buy you time before the second death approaches. Who knows what miracle you can do for your people?"

"Will they still be my people, though? If they forget about me?" She asked. Their eyes met. The old priest was lost for words. "Of course they are," she replied herself with a genuine smile. "Their loyalty is their own. My loyalty to them is my own."

The priest trembled and held back his tears. "It will be fine," she said softly, soothingly, "We will see each other again." He looked down to avoid her eyes, too scared to see what's hidden beyond those eyes, or the deep understanding that surpassed his. 

He lifted the gold cup with trembling hands. She would drink from it, and she will journey on the first death as the priests prepare her body and locked her tomb as per ritual. Yet she didn't know her tomb will not only be locked but also sealed and destroyed to prevent her from ever waking up, to complete both first and second death.

"It will be fine," she said again. She took the cup and held it gaily, as if she was still in the comfort of her own palace, "I will survive both deaths." He looked up at her in terror, watching as she sipped the cup delicately like drinking her favorite nectar.

It should be enough to send anyone to the afterworld immediately, but she passed him the cup as if nothing happened and curled on the silk bed on which she sat on as if she was ready for a good night sleep. 

"Be loyal to me, and I will see you again," she said with a loving smile. He bowed. "I too will see them again," she added, this time with a cold fire that sent the shiver down his spine. He knew now she knew.  She closed her eyes and he started to weep. His queen. His beloved queen.

A few thousand years later, a girl woken up from her nap with a start. She didn't remember when she had fallen asleep, but she did remember playing with her phone and feeling so miserable, feeling so scared that people will forget her.

"It will be fine," she said subconsciously. "It will be fine." She sat straight and looked at the window for a bit, soaking in the view of beautiful Los Angeles afternoon. She looked at her phone, which was still silent as if the world has abandoned her. "It will be fine," she said with a smile.

Beauty of Sex

Sex is a dangerous act. It brings human to their lowest level, succumbing to their animal instinct. Society rules and norms are forgotten in that moment of fury, where lust and pleasure override the logical mindset.

Is it a surprise that we shunned sex so much? It's pretty much the Devil's handiwork. Desire is bad because you will get lost in it. With sex, which gives both physical and emotional satisfaction, it's downright a black hole. Pun intended.

So we curb woman's bodies. We restrict parts that might arose desire. Women are also pushed to be the last form of defense against such tempestuous act. Lock the gate, so to speak. Don't let intruder in.

Anatomically men don't have control on their erection. Yet that's where this logic stop. Human has no control on our desire and/or bodily function, but we have control on our chosen action. No gate can keep the intruders if they choose to intrude.

Then we put fear of God and/or higher power to it. We limit sex to be done in an unbreakable union (i.e. marriage) not only to ensure we wont lose ourselves over it, but also to ensure the safety and well being of the outcome of the act: our offsprings.

It all makes sense. Yet in our flurry of trying to avoid the pitfalls we forget how beautiful sex is. We talk about its devilish virtue, or use it to empower ourselves in an attempt to feel we are in control of ourselves. We reduce sex to either something bad or nothing at all.

Sex is beautiful. It's an act of love, a mutual surrender between you and your partner where you both give your all and bare all. It takes a good amount of trust in each other, and a desire to please your partner. It takes love.

It's not "You shouldn't have sex before marriage", it's "You should marry the person you want to have sex with for the rest of yor life". You want to be with somebody you can give your love to and love you back equally.

Don't fear sex or judge others because of it. It is an enjoyable act. It's ok to feel good about it. One can wait for the right person to come along, or one can actively look for that person. Or just simply enjoying it without any expectations. 

As dastardly and as voracious as I am, for me the best part about sex is to fall asleep in my partner's arm after. To have him gently stroke my skin and caress my hair. To feel like I am safe and wanted. To feel like I belong. Here's to me (and you) finally finding this mythical partner one of these days.

Happy holidays.

Dear BFF

Dear Bff,

Thank you for not complaining about my drunk texts. Let's think of this way, it means you are always on my mind. Yes, I know you rather not. My mind is a treacherous place.

Thank you for rolling your eyes every time I come to you with my dating sagas. Which is A LOT. You made me laugh when I come with tears, making the heartache seems lighter.

Yet you knew. You always do. You knew that each time I open myself for someone it's like bracing myself to walk on shards of glass. It is never easy for me and your joke is your way to protect me.

Thank you for your sarcasm and intolerable bluntness whenever I feel insecure or doubting myself. It's your way to push me forward while still shield me from bad things in life.

I've been handed a shit sandwich in life, yet despite my brokenness I am glad it brings me to you. To say I am indebted to you is a gross understatement.

Thank you for being my big brother. Thank you for being my knight in shining armor. Thank you for truly love and accept me for who I am. Thank you for never leaving me.

Dear BFF, I love you across the galaxy. I love you through countless reincarnation. I love you in the worst time in my life, and in the best. I love you for who you are and more.

Dear BFF, you are amazing inside out. Thank you, love. Thank you.

This Christmas

Dear kiddos. This Christmas I didn't think about buying you gifts. I didn't ponder on Amazon toy section or kids section in the clothing store. I just got what I need and left. I am proud of myself.

Don't think that I forget you both. A glimpse of you running in the apartment building, a sight of you in the Facebook post, and I turned to water. I miss you so much it hurts.

I am proud of myself because I learn to take time to be me. This year I got so much gifts that it was mindblowing. Birthday, Christmas, random gifts. I am loved for who I am, and it feels... amazing.

I hope you felt amazing too when I showered you with love and gifts, because you are. I am sorry for the times I got frustrated or losing my patience. I am sorry for the times I could've been better. I am sorry I have to go.

I hold a piece of you with me, like a baby clothes that's long outgrown. You two right now are no longer the kids I hold 2.5 years ago. You've grown. We don't fit in each other's life anymore, but I still love you nonetheless.

This Christmas, I hope you get what you desire. I hope life treats you kindly. I hope you are surrounded by love. And above all, I hope you are happy. Dark time may come but light and hope will never be far behind.

Dear kiddos, I love you then, I love you now. Merry Christmas, angels.

The Ignorance of PC

I know for sure that I was an edgy, angry girl before and I have write and say things that not only stupid, but also insensitive. Not unlike Kevin Hart.

Do I regret it? No. I am sad about it, but I can't regret it. There is virtually no way the younger me have the empathy and knowledge that I have now, harshly earned from my experiences.

Am I a bad person for how I think back then? Yes, if you are so inclined to think so. I know I am not. You can choose to see what I did for others now and how I deal with life, or you can hang on to that moment where I have no knowledge and doesn't understand empathy. Your choice.

I just wish your choice is not cherry picking other people's (old) opinion for the one that suits your agenda the most. 

There are bigger assholes in Hollywood that are still assholes to this day but got the pass because they are anti-Trump, for instance. Abusers, predators, liars. Go hold them accountable.

By cherry picking who to put on the stake you also ensure that people will not change. Why change for the better if what you said in your younger, unknowledgeable days will be held against you? Might as well stay ignorant.

You have the power to make the world a better place and that can be achieved through empathy and encouragement, not through whiplash and stone throwing. Celebrate the growth, not dwell on the mistake.

PS: Before you call me homophobic for defending Kevin Hart, do know that as a published author in Indonesia I pretty much keep my DM open in all social media account for people who wants to come out. Abused women, lesbians, mistresses, sexual harassment victims, they can tell me everything and it will stay safe with me. 

I also have a very visible pro-LGBTQ stance, embracing my sexual side, and an avid advocate for women's empowerment and equal rights. All which will land me in trouble if I ever have to go back to Indonesia for good, and pretty much a stain on my family's name right now.

You can use my credentials as consideration and think "She might have a point." Or you can stubbornly call me homophobic simply because I do not share your sentiment about Kevin Hart. Ignorance is something that we can grow out of, but only if we choose so.

Foto Impian

Mungkin pelajaran paling berharga dalam hidup itu saya dapatkan saat 5 tahun bekerja jadi sales untuk wedding/event photography di Bali. Saya diajar untuk melihat cerita dibalik sebuah foto sempurna.

Saat teman saya mengirimkan video pernikahan Priyanka Chopra, yang saya bayangkan ribetnya kru kamera dan foto plus kru WO/EO yang harus memastikan semuanya serba sempurna. Lalu setelahnya para editor yang harus membuat foto dan film terlihat ciamik dan dramatis.

Dari pihak mempelai pun, nggak kebayang pressure untuk memastikan semua seperti di jadwal/script. Asal tahu saja, satu wedding foto 'natural/alami' itu bisa entah berapa kali diambil dan diulang gayanya agar bisa dapat yang pas.

Dan setelahnya, masih ada mempelai yang tidak bahagia dengan hasil fotonya walau bagus banget. Atau yang fotonya sebenarnya biasa saja tapi si editor mampu memilih dan menempatkan foto-foto yang tepat di wedding albumnya sehingga terlihat wah.

Saya belajar nggak semua yang terlihat sempurna itu benar-benar sempurna. Saya belajar kalau foto impian nan menawan itu hasil kerja keras dan modal yang nggak sedikit.   Saya jadi nggak bisa merasa sirik pada orang yang terlihat lebih sempurna dari saya. Ya udah sih, belum tentu saya mau bekerja sekeras dia.

Foto IG misalnya. Foto bagus perlu kamera/hape bagus. Perlu makeup/prop yang bagus. Perlu diambil berkali-kali sampai dapat yang pas. Perlu nenteng orang lain sebagai fotografer terpercaya. Perlu diedit dan diberi tagar yang tepat.

Saya melihat foto IG yang sempurna malah pegal karena tahu saya nggak bisa investasi waktu, tenaga, dan uang sampai sebegitunya. Realistis sih. Saya suka lihatnya tapi saya tahu saya nggak akan sanggup, jadi saya nggak bisa sirik. Kagum iya, sirik nggak.

Di era dimana semua diedit untuk terlihat wah dan sempurna, bagi saya ini pelajaran tak ternilai. Saya seolah mampu melihat dibalik topeng yang dikenakan orang-orang. Dan disaat orang lain terjual impian diatas awan, saya bisa tetap menginjak bumi.

Karena dibalik indahnya suara seruling bambu ada tangisan bambu yang disayat, dan sekian tahun latihan si pemain seruling. Karena dibalik halusnya batik sutra ada sekian ulat sutra yang mati, dan sekian lama waktu menenun dan membatik.

Hidup ini nggak seindah dan sesempurna foto impian, jadi nggak perlu kita merasa kurang atau sirik melihat sekilas kesempurnaan orang lain. Kita nggak tahu cerita mereka. Bukan berarti lalu kita sibuk sensi ya. Nggak ada salahnya ber-Wow ria dan menghargai gegap gempita hidup.

Karena manusia begitu indah. Bahkan dikala mereka terpuruk pun ada keindahan yang bisa kita lihat, dalam kedukaan nan tragis sekalipun.  Lihat segalanya lebih dekat dan penuh rasa cinta, tanpa rasa cemburu dan keserakahan. Kita manusia itu hebat lho.

Tuhan, Ary Pulang

"Gue tuh bukan wanita baik-baik," kata saya. Saya bahkan nggak berani melihat matanya. Duduk di mobil bersama teman kencan saya, saya memutuskan bercerita tentang emotional abuse/siksaan emosional yang saya alami saat masih menikah.

Saya bercerita tentang bagaimana saya dikata-katain, bagaimana saya dibuat merasa rendah dan nggak berharga. "Walaupun gue tahu itu nggak benar, tapi ada bagian dari gue yang percaya. Mau gimana lagi. Itu ya gue. Gue udah terima kalau gue bukan wanita baik-baik."

"Ary," kata teman kencan saya sambil mengelus rambut saya perlahan, "You are created in the image of God. Kamu diciptakan dalam imaji Tuhan." Saya terdiam. Terhenyak. Walau saya tahu dia Kristen taat, saya nggak menduga itu responnya. 

Ternyata begini rasanya bertemu dengan orang yang taat beragama karena memang mencintai agama dan Tuhannya. Adem. Hangat. Lega. Rasanya saat itu seperti Tuhan sendiri yang mengelus rambut saya dan mengingatkan saya: "Kamu nggak kenapa, Nduk. Saya tetap menyayangimu."

Padahal dia bisa memperlakukan saya dengan buruk. Saya yang berangasan dan sangat seksual sangat berhak diperlakukan tanpa hormat oleh orang beriman sepertinya. Apa sih saya? Hanya seorang pendosa, seorang wanita murahan kalau menurut mantan suami saya.

Nggak lho. Diantara semua lelaki yang saya kencani, mungkin dia yang memperlakukan saya benar-benar dengan penuh hormat dan bukan hanya karena ingin meniduri saya. Yang lain sih baik dan hormat juga, tapi orang ini bisa banget bertingkah karena dia orang baik-baik dan saya bukan. Tapi nggak.

Dicurhatin sekian banyak wanita, banyak sekali yang bilang: "Walau selingkuh, suami saya itu orang baik-baik, taat beribadah, doanya lancar dan nggak putus." Saya sering juga mendengar teman 'disergap' dan dihakimi gengnya karena dianggap kurang agamanya. Jangan ditanya di medsos, yang ganas banget jadi pejuang keyboard konon demi membela agamanya.

Saya nggak mengerti. Agama apapun harusnya membuat diri kita dan sekeliling kita merasa aman dan damai. Ini yang kita bela dan kita pamerkan ke dunia itu ego kita atau agama kita? Nggak heran banyak orang yang kelihatan beragama sekadarnya. Males juga kali kalau jadinya malah deg-degan dan dipersekusi oleh orang yang konon lebih beragama.

Padahal harusnya enggak. Nggak perlu pamer dekatnya kita sama Tuhan kalau kelakuan kita nggak mendukung. Nggak perlu sombong merendahkan orang lain karena Tuhan juga nggak sombong. Nggak perlu mencari surga kalau nggak mau menciptakan surga di bumi ini.

Kami bertiga di mobil itu: saya, dia, dan Tuhan. Tuhan mengingatkan saya berharga lewat dirinya. Saya pun melihat jumawanya, kuatnya manusia lewat dia. Inilah kenapa agama dan kepercayaan itu ada, karena kita manusia mampu menjadi lebih baik, karena Tuhan ingin kita kembali kepadaNya.

Sesampainya di depan apartemen saya kami berpelukan. "Terimakasih," kata saya, "Terima kasih sudah menyelamatkanku." Saya tahu ia bahagia mendengarnya. Saya tahu Tuhan bahagia mendengarnya. Tuhan, Ary pulang.

Love

I slept the whole day on Sunday. I woke up at 8, ate an ungodly amount of breakfast, then back to sleep. I was up again at 1, ate a bunch of chocolate and downed it with some beer, then I was asleep until past 4. I forgot how painful broken heart is.

My date left my apartment around 1 the night before. We had 'the talk', and we realized we were looking for different things. I made the cut because I know he'll get hurt in the long run, and I don't want him to get hurt.

The next day, between my sleep, all I can think of was being in his arms again. Of his jokes. Of being in the car with him. Of him stroking my hair and my skin so softly as if I am the most precious girl in the world.  

I wanted to text him and tell him I will change for him, that I will be what he is looking for. But a leopard can't change its spots. Then I wished I am never a leopard. I wished I am not what I am right now. 

It was insanity. Yet as I called out his name loudly in my empty room, I realized it was something else. It was love. Looking back, even though I only met him for 5 dates, I can feel the words "I love you" on the tip of my tongue.

It's sad but it's also good. After my epic failures in 2016, I thought I couldn't love again. I didn't want to love again. I eyed men with distrust and guard my heart carefully, distanced myself so I wont get hurt anymore.

And here I am, seriously considering to change myself for a man I barely know. I can't even tell you why I am willing to do that, what's so great about him that he is worth that change. I don't know. I just want to be close to him.

This is love. Unpredictable. Irrational. Blinding. Maddening. Strong. Beautiful. Pure. Honest. It didn't work out for me this time, but I am glad I experienced it. I am glad I met him. I am glad I can love again.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Can you please fix Stupid? I know you can't, but I am hoping you can. If you can give kids around the world gifts within a very limited time period, you most likely can fix Stupid.

I know, I know. Time travel is one thing, fixing stuff is another thing. Especially when it is born or made like that. Especially if it is not broken in the first place.

I would like to say that it is broken. It just doesn't know that it is broken. How could it be right if anything it does hurt others? Can't you just reprogram it or something?

I think flushing out Ignorance from its system will probably work best. Deactivating Ego is an extreme choice but might be necessary to properly flush out Ignorance. It's also the only way to upgrade Ego to Humbleness.

And maybe, maybe we can install Empathy and Sympathy? I know it costs a fortune, but you can do it, Santa. Let's do one of those newly developed Justice and Fairness too, with Objectivity boost. 

Please Santa, this is doable. We must fix Stupid before it's too late. Before Stupid destroys the world we know, before Stupid nurture and unleash Hate. Please tell me you'll help me, Santa.

You won't help me, Santa? Come on. I think we both agree it is high time you interfere. Hoping Stupid will be fixed by human themselves is like betting on a dead horse. You know this. Santa, please.

----

Dear Satan,

As you predicted, he won't budge. Are you happy now? If I can't fix it, I might as well destroy it. Hit me up if you are interested. I know you are.

The Elder Wand

She looked at the other woman with murder in her eyes.

"How dare you, you witch…" she whispered, her words were hiss of anger.

The witch gave her a contemptuous smile.

"What are you going to do about it?" she smirked, "It has been done. You know the rules."

"This doesn't mean you can do it in a dirty way."

The witch laughed. It was such a confident laugh that she felt a shiver in her back.

"The Elder Wand takes on a new master whenever it has been 'won' from its previous owner. That's what the rule is, and you know it. It doesn't state how and what method."

"It is still mine." She hissed again. She gathered up her energy and look more voracious than ever. The magic was still in her, filling her up and made her look even more beautiful.

"Oh please," the witch said with a chuckle. The witch gave her a wink and right then she knew it was a lost cause. The glowing aura, the relaxed hair that fell heavenly on the witch's shoulder, all the way down to her breasts. She knew it. The elder wand was not hers anymore.

"Yes please," she smiled sinisterly. She won't give up. Not without a fight.

"Have it your way," the witch grinned. 

"Hey babe," the witch called, "You got Facetime from Lisa!" A muffled voice of a man from the other room can be heard, "Oh God just reject it. Come here and go down on me."

The witch said to the phone, "Bye bitch." but Lisa already hung up.

Be Humble

This Thanksgiving, if there's any relative or yourself said "Yeah, I got it at W*lmart," own that sh*t.

You got things from the dollar store and you're "crafty". You got things from WM and suddenly you are the lowest of the low. Heck, even a random Indonesian texted a friend saying she'll be embarrassed to work at WM because all of her family back home has the cushy office job.

We've heard all about people of WM. I met them on the first day I landed in the US. They were… interesting. I hate shopping at WM because of the desolation I feel, the persistent indifference and the general air of "We're all f*cked up here anyway." 

Their online store is better, but they're still pretty depressing. It was a clutter of god-knows-what, not as neatly designed as Tarjay or Immazon. It won't be my first choice unless I can get a good price albeit with almost-expectedly low quality.

And that's the gist of WM. Low price, low quality. I mean, who in the world will go so low for that? The answer is people who actually don't have another option. Accessibility is and will always be the reason.

It only occurs to me when I tried to arrange some flowers to be sent to a friend in Kentucky. Easy, right? Immazon Now? Doesn't Deliver. Instacrat? Doesn't deliver. There's literally no option for a day delivery except to pay an arm and a leg through 1800flowzah. Here in DTLA I have a selection of grocery stores to do it.

Checking the map, there's only one WM in her area and some smaller grocery store chains. All within driving range. In DTLA there's at least 4 major grocery stores in walking distance, plus a Tarjay. And a Burlee. And a Rass. I can get decked out and have my daily things at a fraction of effort (and probably price point) my friend has to go through.  

We don't see it that way, though. We see the 'funny' memes. We see the end of our nose when we snicker about "that person who shop at WM". We see us non-WM-shopper as superior. We're not. We just have options. Options, either in terms of accessibility and financial means, are hard to come by.

This Thanksgiving, be thankful if you can shop at places that suits your taste and preference. Be thankful for people who can still obtain things they need with the limited option they may have. As the famous philosopher once said: "Be Humble. Sit down and enjoy your turkey."

"Mama Bangs*t!"

"Mama bangs*t!" Keluar lagi deh postingan itu, yang mengingatkan wanita agar selalu ada buat anak agar anak nggak durhaka.

Nggak banyak yang mengingatkan si lelaki jangan kurang ajar pada wanita, karena anak kan menggugu dan meniru. Dilihat bapak/paman/kakek/sosok lelaki di keluarga mengkasari wanita, ya dianggap normal.

Nggak banyak yang mengingatkan si lelaki kalo kawin bukan cuma modal kont*l saja. Bahwa kont*l nggak cukup buat bayar kontrakan atau beli beras kecuali itu kont*l diberdayakan via jual diri.

Nggak banyak yang mengingatkan si lelaki kalo punya anak itu tanggung jawab dia juga. Bukan cuma sekedar materi, tapi juga iman dan takwa dan pembawaan secara sosial. Jadi kalo anak bertingkah ya cerminan bapaknya juga.

Nggak banyak yang mengingatkan si lelaki kalau melanggar janji suci yang dibuat di hadapan Tuhan itu berat. Setia sehidup semati sampai ada cewek cantik yang jadi pengganti. Loe pikir Tuhan produser serial tv The Bachelor?

Tetap lho, apapun yang terjadi si Emak yang salah. Padahal bikin anak kan kudu pake lelaki, bukan kayak stek mangga yang tinggal tanam potongan batang. Terus faedah lelaki apa dong? Cuma nyumbang sesendok teh sperma aja kok lebay banget.

Jujur aja sih kalo nggak sanggup menafkahi lahir (baca: materi) dan batin (baca: perasaan). Bilang aja "Eh gue pengen ngewe tanpa ada ikatan dan gue ga akan mau ngebiayain anak tapi gue mau ngewe tanpa kondom dan keluar di dalam."

Gue akan tersenyum penuh gairah dan menyodorkan kartu nama dokter vasektomi.

Lah iya dong. Kalo elu ga mau tanggung jawab ya elu vasektomi lah, sama gue mau lihat hasil tes penyakit seksual loe. Kalo elu nikahin gue mesti sanggup support finansial dan perasaan,  kalo nggak rate perek berlaku tiap kita main. Enak aja mau gratisan.

Kita perempuan juga mesti mikir. Pilih suami karena yakin bisa jadi pasangan yang setara dengan kita dan jadi ayah yang mampu memgayomi dan membesarkan anak kita. Dan yang bisa dipegang sampe akhir nanti.

Tapi kita pilih suami karena takut dicap nggak laku. Kita pilih suami yang bisa dipamerin di sosmed. Kita pilih suami yang konon bisa mendekatkan kita ke surga. Kita nggak mikirin nasib anak dan keluarga kita.

Padahal kalau kita miskin, anak kita pun akan tambah miskin karena nggak mendapat kesempatan untuk memperbaiki hidupnya lewat pendidikan atau kecerdasan/kearifan sosial pergaulan.

Padahal kalau anak besar melihat kekerasan (yang seringkali dampak stres karena kekurangan finansial) maka dia besarnya juga kasar atau merasa kekerasan itu wajar, baik sebagai yang melakukan atau sebagai korban.

Tapi gpp lah anak kehilangan masa depan karena terjebak lingkaran kekerasan dan kemiskinan. Yang penting kan mama+papa sekarang eksis dan bakal masuk surga. Nanti tinggal drama dan sharing artikel "Mama bangs*t" sambil ngetag pasangan untuk saling mengingatkan.

Enak ya hidup tanpa tanggung jawab.

Broken

Do you know what broken is? Broken is when a word, a phrase, an action that might seem mundane suddenly triggers you and you have the instinct to either jump and gutted the person, or to roll up into the fetal position in fear. I don't know the right clinical name for it.

What I do know it sucks to see myself descending to the darkness once again. When I start to black out and my mood swings rocking harder than a pendulum in the storm. When I know I slowly lost control of my emotion and awash in my grim Neverland.

You won't see it because a part of me told me to "Stand still. Smile. Don't let them know." Because people run away when they see negativity. It's natural. Not many have the resilience to deal with that shit. Because I am strong enough to withstand the storm.

At least that's what I said. Off to a date. Then another. House has his painkillers and I have mine. Ride the storm quietly in an extravagant manner so no one will suspect you are drowning inside. The world only needs to see Selina Kyle, not her sorry story.

But you are tortured inside. The moment love seemed to come through you'd lap it up like a man stranded in the desert, wishing fervently that it is real. The moment when there's even the slightest chance that the love is not real, is not equal, up goes the wall like the castle bridge being pulled up.

You give a breath of relief when it didn't work. It shouldn't work, anyway. You are too broken. You shed tears and feel sad when it's over, but you know it's also over because you killed them as Atalanta did to the suitors that lost a race with her. 

You just got off the phone with your building manager. You told him a neighbor cat was on the roof and couldn't get out, and can he please help the cat. He laughed and said they already did. You know you are a good girl. You know people love you. But not enough to keep you.

You know you'll eventually cool down and be happy again, but it won't be the end. The panic attack, the blinding fear, the hands that will go up to protect your broken little soul while sobbing: "No! Please don't hurt me!" Those will come and go as they please.

"Get help." I am trying to. "Forget him." I already did. "Let him go." I thought I have moved on already. Stick and stones may hurt my bones, but apparently words decapacitate me emotionally. Isn't love grand?

I Got Flowers

I got flowers. 

I literally sat here dumbfounded for 10 solid minutes reiterating it over and over again. I got flowers. 

It wasn't a birthday flower or sorry-I-fuck-up flower. I've had those before. I don't know why I got this one. My date just casually handed me those when he dropped me off after our dinner date.

And now I got flowers.

My best friend always told me that the men I met set the standard so low the bar is practically on the ground. My girls will exasperatedly say (again and again): "It's normal!!" when I told them a man was being nice to me.

So, umm, yeah. I might be overreacting right now. It's still amazing, though. I would buy flowers for my friends, just because. Or give away the ones I got to people on the bus. Their smile and astonishment were beautiful to behold.

And here I am, on their end. I got flowers.

Do I expect it? No. My life has been plentiful. My best friend spoils me like a princess. My girls are true "Ride or Die" squad. I have warm bed and full stomach. My family and friends are awesome. I can't ask for more.

Yet life will throw a curveball at you now and then. We know this. We dread this because it usually means bad. In my case, though, the curveball was an unexpected acknowledgement. "Here. You're ok."

I stopped writing to look at the flowers. I guess?

I have to fight off the voices in my head, each with their own version why I don't deserve it, or that it means nothing. I want to cave in because it is easier to crush your hope before someone else crushes it. It's easier to think I don't deserve to be happy before happiness is taken away from me.

I am not going to. Not this time. I deserve to be happy and I shouldn't be scare of it. Happiness is like the flowers, it will eventually died out yet the memories and the feelings linger. I am keeping those.

So, yay! I got flowers!

Sebut Nama Dong

Saya ingin lihat nama pelaku terduga pemerkosaan UGM disebut. Saya ingin namanya ditulis lengkap di semua media, berikut cerita hidupnya.

Adil dong. Korban pemerkosaan biasanya dikulik lengkap, mungkin sampai baju apa yang dia pakai dan kelakuannya. Kenapa pelaku nggak? Toh bukan anak dibawah umur.

Kalau korban berani melapor dan diganjar malu seumur hidup (plus trauma diperkosa), pelaku juga harus diumumkan dan diganjar malu seumur hidup. Kalau perlu bikin data base sex offender biar orang hati-hati sama bangsat ini.

Sama halnya dengan perselingkuhan, nama si pelakor dan identitas pribadinya yang disebar luas. Sis, gue mau tahu nama dan identitas laki loe. Biar gue tahu jangan jadi korban buaya ini. Biar dia tahu ada konsekuensinya mainin wanita.

Hidup kita wanita sengsara ya karena ini. Kita getol menyerang sesama wanita. Mungkin kita segitu nggak pedenya sama diri kita sendiri, atau segitu takutnya nggak disukai pria dan jadi nggak laku. 

Sis, loe pikir Tuhan tidur? Loe pikir Tuhan segitu rendahnya melihat wanita sehingga kita ga mampu ngapa-ngapain tanpa pria? Loe pikir Tuhan nggak ngasi kita kemampuan setara, bahwa kita bisa mandiri dan hebat?

Kesetaraan dimulai dari kita wanita yang harus peduli dan berani membela sesama wanita. Bukan cuma buat kita, tapi juga buat anak-anak kita dan generasi seterusnya.

Biar kita nggak disakiti, diperkosa, diperlakukan seperti barang tanpa ada konsekuensi dari pelaku. Biar kita punya hak yang sama untuk edukasi, peningkatan status sosial, hidup mandiri dan tenteram. 

Kalau ini bukan yang loe mau ya derita loe. Gue sih udahan ya dipaksa hidup di jaman kegelapan padahal sudah tahun  2018. Kita bukan barang, sis. Nilai kita lebih dari sekedar beranak sebagai sarana penghasil tenaga tani gratis.

Gue ga benci lelaki. Gue malah respek banget sama lelaki yang bertanggung jawab. Jadi kalau elu lelaki dan berpikir nama pelaku jangan disebut: Kenapa, Mas? Pernah juga 'khilaf' begitu? Karena berarti loe ga ngerasa penting mencegah ini terjadi lagi.

Apakah bisa salah sebut pelaku? Oh iya. Tapi jumlahnya nggak akan sebanyak pelaku yang beneran kesebut dan sebanyak sekian mangsa terselamatkan. Orang nggak akan berulah kalau tahu konsekuensinya berat. 

Kita memberi sanksi sosial pada pasangan kumpul kebo, hamil di luar nikah, pelakor, dan segala yang dianggap melanggar norma sosial agar tidak terus terjadi. Bisa dong kita menerapkan yang sama untuk pemerkosa, KDRT, tukang selingkuh, nggak menafkahi etc.

Eh, sebut nama dong.

Kisah Jaka Sembung

Ceritanya saya komen di sebuah komik IG. Saya minta format satu page agar gampang disharing karena menurut saya komik itu bagus, tentang kisah si pengarang yang kena misuh-misuh bapak tua yang menganggap jilbab itu lebih penting dari pelajaran sains.  

Lalu ada yang menjawab komen saya, bahwa saya harus bangga dan berjuang menjadi perempuan yang baik tanpa jilbab atau dengan jilbab, bahwa hanya Tuhan yang tahu amal ibadah kita dan seterusnya. Bengong lah saya membacanya.

Pertama, komen saya tentang minta dibikinkan format satu page kalau memungkinkan, bukan tentang pemakaian jilbabnya. Kedua, ternyata dia seorang pria, yang agak dodol menurut saya kalau mencoba menasihati seorang wanita tentang jilbab. Dia aja nggak pake jilbab. Ketiga, saya Hindu.

Paling males kalau ada orang yang tetiba nimbrung jaka sembung. Kadang niatnya baik, tapi kadang (baca: seringkali) niatnya hanya ingin terlihat baik. Menerima 'masukan' seperti ini rasanya seperti ngemilin kembang tabur: wangi saja tapi nggak ada nutrisi dan jelas nggak enak.

Apalagi kalau orang tersebut jelas-jelas nggak ada kepentingannya, atau bahkan nggak perduli sama kita. Asal terlihat baik dan bijak pokoknya. Yay seleb Fesbuk dan IG! Seperti mas ini yang sama sekali nggak ngeh kalau dia melakukan persis seperti di komik yang kita komenin: memaksakan pendapatnya pada wanita.

Sekali lagi, para pembaca: wanita itu nggak hidup hanya untuk pria. Wanita itu ada di dunia atas kehendak Tuhan, bukan? Jadi yang perlu wanita pikirkan ya Sang Pencipta, bukan jenis kelamin tertentu. Hiduplah sesuai apa yang dikehendakiNya. Jadi orang baik, misalnya.

Banyak agama dan kebudayaan yang menempatkan pria sebagai pilar keluarga, sebagai pemuka dan pembimbing. Wajar. Secara fisik wanita biasanya lebih lemah, plus tugas kita yang terfokus pada mengurus keluarga. Tapi bukan berarti wanita lebih rendah.

Terlalu sering kita wanita mendengar omongan "Nanti nggak ada lelaki yang mau sama kamu". Yang hidup kita seolah berpusat pada bagaimana mendapatkan dan memuaskan pasangan. Nggak penting lah kita pintar, kita baik, kita hebat. Yang akan dinilai hanya kemampuan kita mendapatkan dan mempertahankan pasangan.

Makanya saya ekstra sensi saat jaka sembung di komen komik ini ternyata lelaki. Mas bagus, bukan wanita yang mesti diingatkan untuk tetap hebat dengan atau tanpa jilbab. Yang harus diingatkan rekan-rekan pria anda. 

Anda nggak ngerasain disinisin saat lepas jilbab. Anda nggak ngerasain dihakimi oleh teman dekat yang baru mulai pakai jilbab. Anda nggak ngerasain diteriakin teroris karena jilbab yang anda putuskan untuk dipakai. Anda nggak tahu rasanya jadi wanita.

Tapi anda bisa bersimpati dan berempati, bisa mencoba mengerti perjuangan para wanita. Sana, ceramahi para rekan pria anda. Beranikan diri membela wanita dengan lantang, dan bukan hanya yang secantik artis sinetron. Jangan takut pasang badan saat orang lain menganiaya wanita, baik secara fisik ataupun perkataan.

Sudah saatnya pria menjadi rekan setara bagi wanita, bukannya malah menjajah. Pria bisa lho tetap jadi pembimbing dan pengayom, tapi boleh dong kita wanita mencari yang memang sanggup dan bukan hanya karena dia kebetulan punya penis. Wanita dari tulang rusuk pria, bukan? Setara, seimbang.

Sekedar info saja, saya masih lho sangat menghormati pria. Makanya lelaki disini kadang klepek-klepek menghadapi saya. Kita yang didikan Indonesia masih sangat ngemong dan menghargai, barang langka kalau disini. Tapi ya saya pilih-pilih. Kalau nggak bisa menghargai saya balik ya ngapain juga diladenin.

Para wanita, jangan takut untuk berani memiliki preferensi dan untuk menghargai nilai diri kita sendiri. Wanita yang hebat itu berkah bagi dunia lho. Para lelaki, jangan nggak pede sama wanita hebat. Kalian harusnya merasa tertantang untuk mampu menjadi pasangan ideal mereka. Kita semua ingin menjadi manusia yang lebih baik, bukan?

Dan itu artinya nggak usah lagi sepik-sepik sok bijak di urusan yang mungkin anda nggak mengerti. Itu artinya berusaha berempati dan bersimpati, bukannya malah "Harusnya yah…" Jadilah teman, bukan penjajah. Bisa kan?

The Pitchforks

I have to tune myself out from the election news because of the constant vitriol and name calling on my Facebook feed. Some who played it nicely would only vague-booking about how "Democracy matters" and how "Americans have spoken".

The exact same thing happened in Indonesia, where the supporters of the current president valiantly defend the president, and the people who oppose him vehemently denounced his presidency. Both have the same solid argument, both hate each other with vengeance.

We say we shouldn't judge. We say we should see people as people, more than just the stigma and past the propaganda. Yet we call each other in a way that if it's referred to other issues such as religion, we'll be considered insensitive or politically incorrect.

Republicans/Conservatives are people who hate immigrant, redneck idiot who worship the crassness of Trump and his goon, who have no respect of whatsoever to women's body, the egoistic selfish maniac who'll do anything for the good of themselves.

Democrats/Liberals are people who won't accept responsibilities, who thinks the world revolves around them and they deserve so much more than they actually worth, who leech off of other people's hard work, who denounce anything than inconvenience them.

In the same breath, this is exactly the same as saying Muslims are terrorist, Jewish are opportunist, immigrants are criminals, black people are violent, white people are supremacist, Southeast Asian is gold digger, people with HIV have a questionable lifestyle, gays are bad, straights are homophobic, and the list goes on.

We can waste our breath debating on whether or not the accusation is true, a debate that will change nobody's mind. Or we can do better: ask yourself what are you fighting for? Are you fighting for what you think it is right, or are you blindly defending your group by reducing the worth of your opponent?

For some, what I write won't matter because of my stance on immigration. I have been labeled as Trump supporter, so to speak. For others, what I write won't matter because I am an immigrant. I have been labeled as a leech and I don't have any right to speak about the US.

Yet this is what I see. I see people vehemently defending their group and their belief without trying to understand what and how other people think. Not just US, but all around the world. One side will win, but at what cost? The cost will be buried ember ready to burst into fiery anger when the time comes.

Democracy is not about winning or losing, it is not about being right or wrong. Democracy is a system of government by the whole population, which means even your opponent has the right to say on the matter, which means you can't just shut them down by saying "You are stupid!" without trying to understand their concerns.

We can hate-vote. We can fear-vote. We can self-righteous-vote. Or we can vote by clearly and objectively considering which will bring the best of the people, and the consequences that will happen. We can vote for what we believe, not to attack others.

Sure, the other group did it first. But you do not live with 'the other group'. You live with yourself. In times, what you believe can and will change. Being civil and understanding is not done for other, it's done for you. You can do that or be trapped in the shallow muddy pool of stigma, sinking deeper into unpleasantness and anger towards others. Your call.

Dear Self

Dear Self,

You don't owe him any explanation

If he thinks you are a bad person

Then yes, to him you will always be

You don't owe him your story

If he thinks you are making things up

Then yes, to him you will always be

You don't owe him your assurance

If he can't see how much you love him

Then yes, to him it'll never be enough

You don't have to beg him to stay

If he doesn't think you will worth it

Then yes, to him you will never be

You can cry but please know it's ok

Respect his free will and respect yours

It will be ok, I promise you that

Dear Self, I love you.

It Wasn't Me

It wasn't me.

Him on the beach, furious over me stopping to pet a dog. He said I didn't respect him. He said I was trying to flirt with the dog owner. Me with tears streaming on my face. I thought we were there because he felt bad for yelling at me the day before. Yet now this.

It wasn't me.

Standing in front of the ATM. Only have $20 in my bank account and home is 8,000 miles away. Strengthening myself to ask for cash to strangers. I need another $10 for a ticket back to my apartment in Orange County. I could be there by midnight, and I will just stay at the station until the break of dawn before going on a 3-5 hours walk home. It is better than going back with him in the car.

It wasn't me.

Saying the vow in front of the civil servant. Looking at him with a mixture of pain and fear from the lashing I received the night before, and with intense love that can move a mountain. It will be fine, I told myself. He looked at me and smiled lovingly, trembling as he said his vow. It will be better, I assured myself.     

It wasn't me.

My solo train trip to San Diego ripped me open again. The view of the beach in Oceanside. The place where I stop to get the ATM. The cliffside overlooking the beach that was similar to where we got married. "It will get better, right?" I ask my best friend over the phone as the train passed Encinitas. "It will," he assured me, pretending he didn't hear me trying to withhold my sobs.

The day before was a series of "You don't understand how hard it is for me," "I tried my utmost best for you," and "We're just not compatible," from another ex. I told him maybe I do understand and I care so much for him. I told him I only ask for what's important for me. I told him non-compatibility is a lazy excuse. 

That night I couldn't stop crying, even well into my sleep. The debate had been a repetition of my married life, minus the abuse and the lashing. I had brushed him off and end the debate by saying "I'm difficult." I keep telling myself that as he sat awkwardly beside me on the train home. I am just difficult.

Between the debate with my ex and the San Diego trip the next day, I feel like I am cut open and nasty, gooey pus is flowing out. It's good, I told myself, it is how the healing process work. Only then I realize how much I truly care for them, and how much I love them. Only then I realize how much pain I was in. Yet it doesn't feel like it's getting better soon.

"You just have to stop dating guys who are not as strong as you are," my best friend said. "Or I should stop being difficult," I replied. "That's because you have standard. There's nothing wrong with having a standard." He looked at me in my eyes, "You deserve to be happy. It wasn't you." I fixed my gaze on the floor to hide my tears. It wasn't me.

I am Home

I love my bed.

It's a crinkly old fold-up futon frame with second-hand mattress that gives me back pain on worst days, but I love it very much.

I love my apartment.

It's so small that it hardly fits for one and includes neverending battle against bugs and dust, but I love it very much.

I love my teddy bear.

It's a cheap mini bear with picture hoodie that I ordered on discount on Rite-aid. It's not soft at all and pretty ugly, but I love it very much.

I love my home.

By home, I mean my tiny buggy apartment with the crinkly futon bed and that ugly teddy bear. Can I do better? I can. It's just scary to leave 'home'. And yes, I love it very much.

I am not the same person that live with my family on my idyllic island. I am not the same person that live with my ex-husband and his kids. Those were 'home' too, but now they seemed so vague.

People change and people grow. Experiences and interactions mold and shaped us like the beating and heating on iron shaft to create a sword. Sometimes, it means new home.

My family will always be my home, as well as the people I love the most. That includes myself, too. Please excuse me as I need to give myself a hug and say: "I am home."

Good Morning, America

Good morning, America.

Good morning to the restaurant manager that sat next to me on the 6 am bus to Covina. Your eyes were still blurry, face puffy from the sleep. "What time the restaurant open?" I asked. "9 am," you said, "But I have to be there early to check if the restaurant is clean and ready, and balancing the book."

Good morning to sleepy passengers with all your possessions in the train and on the bus. The cold foggy morning offered the blissful protection against the impending heat of the day, and the subsequent beating on your pride from the judgemental eyes of passing strangers.

Good morning to the lady who sells tamales. You sat there under the tree, knitting something with a pink yarn, and casually advertise your fare: "Tamales, tamales! Champurrado!" It's a cheap, affordable breakfast to many, a warm reprise from the chilly Pomona morning.

Good morning to the senior who sat next to me on the bus. You had to leave at 4.30 to get to your job by 8.30 or earlier and won't be back home until after 8 pm. All for a job who won't even provide coffee for the office, let alone other amenities.

Good morning to the 70-year-old man who kindly greeted everyone at the stop with "Bless you, brother!" You asked me is it hard to operate that whatchamacallit smartphone, as you spent the last 10 years in prison and was way behind in technology.

Good morning, America. Good morning, I say, to these people with toils and hardship ahead of them. Neck deep in life's challenges, there's simply no time of dreaming. So much for the American Dream. So much for the feeling you got it good. So much for feeling, period. You just have to keep on swimming.

Yet you smiled. You chatted happily with me. You are alive. Your eyes full of gratitude that you make it to another day, or full of determination that you will make it another day. Some of you are the walking dead, though. For that, I wept for you. 

Good morning, America. I love you.

Online Dating Labyrinth

Online dating sucks, and I think being a man in the online dating world is not pleasant. There, I said it.

Being on online dating websites on and off, I see the insecurity in full display. The carefully curated photos, for instance, emphasized their strength (good abs, cool car, fancy vacay, even the house they owned). It's akin to the girls' thirst pics and filters.

Then there's the keyword. Nice words to describe they want an Instagram model. Words to describe how financially stable they are, or how satisfying they are in bed. Words that speaks volume of how shitty they've been treated in the past.

I would read the profiles and just feel sad for them. The ones that I met told stories about unending bot messages, sex-for-hire offers, the fine dine demands. You also need a nerve of steel to keep messaging all the people, knowing you might not get any reply.

And then the actual date. A lot of times I see the doubts and the awkwardness. The more experienced ones will carry themselves at ease or hide their feeling better. Some were surprised at the basic hospitality I showed them, and this breaks my heart the most.

For those who are just in it for the good times, it shouldn't be much of a problem. For those who want a relationship, it could be painful. Add girls like me in the mix, who looks nice and normal but has major commitment issue, and it's a perfect recipe for distrust and heartache.

In retrospect, the exact same thing happens with girls. I can't tell for sure because I never date a girl before, so I can't really read them. However, I think the premise is the same: Here's my offer, what's your offer? We do the mating dance and ritual like our animal cousins, ours was just done online.

A big chunk of it is expectancy. We expect a certain someone with a certain characteristic, and too often we weed out vigorously and missing out the hidden gems. Sometimes it is necessary because we are not comfortable or just not interested. Yet we hope and expect. And sometimes we get angry over it.

Another chunk is how ourself reflected to others. In online dating, with such a minimum time together we can easily come out as the worst of ourselves because we don't feel any obligation to accommodate our date more than what we are willing to give. Guys come out as *ssholes and girls come out as b*tches.

Online dating sucks but we still do it. It's an answer to modern fast-paced lifestyle and can be a blessing if you manage to find the hay in the stack of needles. At the time being, though, you will get pricked and beaten down and feel like you are the most unattractive person in this universe or that people are sh*tty AF.

Don't let the bitterness get to you, though. Be nice and genuine and it will shine through. Whether it is enough to the people you want to impress, that I cannot say. I just don't think it will hurt to be the best you can be. And if you really are just not nice and full of yourself, well… umm.. yeah…

You are all Prince Charming looking for that one perfect girl with only a glass shoe as a clue, and we girls are all Cinderella trying out all shoes to find the perfect one to wear. Here's well wishes to our endeavor and hope we'll find what we're looking for. Cheers.

[Yea some of us can also be Hannibal Lecter and/or human version of financial/emotional Praying Mantis. Not really wishing you well on that. Do no harm, fellas.]