Pretty Girl Rocks

I am pretty. Goddammit I really am. I'm not just pretty nice, pretty strong, or pretty awesome; or, as some would say, pretty stubborn, pretty annoying, pretty aggravating. I really am pretty. I got complimented a lot wherever I go. I mean, being an Indonesian in LA is already a pretty niche position, there aren't that many of us around. We're not Philippines or Hispanic, we're just…different. However, these days the compliments were going extra strong. People actually like looking at me. And let me tell you: It feels sooo good.

This is not the first time I felt this way. I think every time I fall in love or started a new relationship I got this feeling too. You feel pretty and significant when you are in love and being loved, so naturally you will enjoy looking at yourself in the mirror more. Endorphins work wonder on our complexion and poise and our whole self in general. Our skin aglow, our smiles brighten, our eyes lit with hope and wonder; in short: we're love-struck. Every inch of our body screamed 'love' and 'affection', and since we are in (almost) constant happy mood, the world seems to be so much nicer and absolutely wonderful.

But you know what else triggered that endorphin, perhaps even bigger than love itself? Success. Self-confidence. Freedom. Knowledge that you got your sh*t together.

I want to say I got it all together, but I didn't. Or, to be exact, I haven't got it together. The euphoria of the battlefield (a.k.a my divorce) has waned and now I am able to see clearly the desolated path lies before me. I am still struggling with my new job and I am worried that I might not cut for it. I don't know how I can save enough money to go home and visit my family next summer. I am swamped with homework and online course, and I haven't had full 8 hours of sleep since July (note: people who knows me well understand how big of an issue it is for me). I miss my family, my step kids, my cats. Things honestly do not look rosy for me.

Yet I rocked wine-colored body-hugging shirt dress and black combat boots to my work meeting. I downed (free!) samples of liquors and wines at the LA Women's Expo with some girlfriends, then conclude it with the all-famous LA's Danger Dogs. I went to carved pumpkins festival and had a blast (Cthulhu for prez!!), wandering around for almost 2 hours. I met a dear friend for the first time ever, despite the fact we both living near (or in) LA for 3 years. I went to Seattle and experienced 36 hours of awesomeness of Rail Tripping (yes Amtrak, that's what I will call it from now on). I danced Balinese dance for the first time (and totally failed at it). My days are long but people has never been nicer to me, which makes the 6+ hours commute each day totally worth it. Life is awesome.

In a way, that's what makes me glow: the notion that life is awesome. What's more important is the understanding and knowledge that not only I have the right to experience life to the max, I also can do it. I am no longer the timid puppy waiting for the master to come home, I am a wolf running free in the wild. I felt like I have been pushed to run in Iron Man race (which, by the way, will never happen in real life) and so I grudgingly did and feeling like I was gonna die; but I survived and I look back in surprise thinking: "Holy sh*t! I actually did it!".  I know my strength. I know what I am capable of. I am also very, very proud of myself. It's beautiful, myself is; beautiful even though kinda chipped here and there, but I won't change it for anything because the broken bits only enhanced its beauty. Yes, I bloomed; and goddammit how I glowed!

Knowing my strength also allows me to be me. There were days, nights when the old me came back with worries and fear, questioning everything and instill doubts in me. It is uncomfortable, but it is not permanent anymore. For instance, when I get worried whether or not I am 'good' enough for my beau, I would toss my head up and said bravely, "I can always walk away". [Though with a little quiver still. I really dig him]. Not that I intend to, but the notion of what I can do gives me strength and confidence that I need. I am no longer tethered to 'What if…", which is very good, because not all What-ifs are preventable or manageable and I'll be wasting my time and energy fretting over them. As a presidential candidate said: "The shackles have been taken off me!"

No, my previous relationship was not the shackle, as tempting as it is to claimed it as one. My shackle is my doubts, my lack of self-confidence. My shackle is my own mind tethering me to 'safety' in order to get a happily ever after where I will be safe and sound. My shackle is my fear of not being accepted, of having to live by myself and unloved. There is still a good part of me shackled, especially in the manner of self-confidence, but I am looking forward to be free from it and strut my way in the world. Even now when I am only halfway (ok, maybe 2/3 of the way) freed, I can feel myself rising to the challenge, blooming and more receptive to the amazingness of the world. I am free, with my five senses spoiled and my heart filled with love. Is it really a wonder I look so different these days?

There will be times, challenging times ahead; because God likes to challenge us and Universe likes to tease us. There will be times when the mood of my writings will be more somber or even downright devastating (again). But that could wait. For now, I am enjoying my grinning face and my easy going struts. For now, I enjoy the compliments and the dreamy look from people who seen me. For now, I enjoy planning and filling my days with fun and laughter, as well as pursuing my ambitions. For now, I enjoy this feeling of self-confidence and freedom, and the pride in myself as well as the pride of knowing I got my sh*t together. And no, you can't take that away from me. Nobody can. Enjoy this smile fellas, you'll be seeing this smile for quite a while.

When You Go Low I Go High

"It's too bad I blocked him in Facebook because he kept spamming me with messages, otherwise I would write how classy he is to bash his ex when his profile picture is with his new fiancee." - my beau.

Last weekend my phone was flooded with messages from my friends back home. Apparently my Ex wrote a nasty piece about me on his Facebook and needless to say, my friends are pissed. I was pissed too and even after all our rantings combined I was still so angry that I penned an article disputing everything he said. It was truly a mark on his craftmanship in twisting facts since I manage to dispute literally every sentences in his post. The blog article and accompanying Facebook post lasted a mere 2 hours before I took them down.

Gossips are like many-headed hydra, you cut one head off and there will be another two in its place. That's why people like The Kardashians and magazines with scandalous headlines, it appease their appetite for unhealthy curiosity and fulfil their insecurity where they can feel better when other people fall. Fact checking is not high on their list, so even if I did a thorough clarification instead of going "Ohhh, so that's what happened...", they'll just going to enjoy the drama and the scandal. It doesn't matter who's right or who's wrong. Why bother then?

These essays, these articles, they are about me. It's my therapy, it's my way to cope with the pain. They are conversations with myself: trying to understand what's happening, striving to accept things as it is, learning how to move on. At the same time, the essays are not meant for my eyes only; it is also meant for others, for people who struggle in silence, in hope that they realized they are not alone. I can't, I wont let him take that away from me. I will not tainted these essays and reducing it into "he said she said", nor do I want for it to be about him instead of about my feeling. His deeds have happened and there is no point of beating a dead horse. It is a really good point to help the injured rider, though.

In separation there will always be "he said she said", there will always be abundance of bitching and/or badmouthing. Regardless on whether you are the one who bitch or the one who got bitched, it is a good idea to step back and set your priority. Are all those bitchings worth it? What do you hope to achieve with it? It's not going to bring your partner back or help you forget; on the contrary, your partner will linger in your mind more than ever. And if you want to retaliate/clarify the bitching done to you, how will it work anyway? Your partner obviously think you are in the wrong and whatever you say won't change that. A lot of time bitching is done as a form of attention-seeking. Do you really want to give this person your time and soul?

It can be frustrating and there will be times when you can't take it anymore, like I did. Yet, as my beau said: "Does it really matter what his friends and family think about you? Do you really can't sleep or can't live knowing they see you in a bad light?" No, it doesn't. People who knew me immediately rallied up behind me, and people who are neutral asked for clarification and more info or simply uninterested on such petty drama; and frankly, these are the people you should care about. You'd be surprise on how high the return margin of "not being an a-hole to people" is, especially when combined with "genuine care".

If this doesn't help you, just remember that the truth is out there. Whatever he said about me, the fact of the matter is: he is now in Indonesia for a month or more with a 22 year old fiancee (they've exchange rings) a little over a month after we filed our divorce. Or as my beau pointed out: bashing his ex-wife while at the same time flaunting his new girlfriend. It might be too much to read my lengthy essays or online resume, trying to figure out who I really am. It might be too difficult to see how vague and unsubstantiated his claims are, or how it is passive aggresiveness and humble-brag at its best. Yet his 'classiness' is so visible that anyone who still think what he said still worth his salt is undoubtedly questionable. I mean, really? Relationship issue aside, this guy has a toddler and a kid under 10 year old but he went holidaying in Indonesia for two months, and you actually believe he is the honorable, heroic martyr he claimed he is?

When you go low, I go high; and I can't be more proud of myself when I soar high above him by taking my clarification post/article down. I don't need to clarify anything to anyone. I am not allowing him to take more of my time and feeling. He is no longer a part of my life. Having said that, I am also not allowing him to go through his bullish behaviour. I have seen him twisting facts not only about me but also the women he was with. I spent some time thinking what horrible brutes the mothers of his kids are, before finally realizing that he might be the real brute.

His post is a good example of his abuse towards me: no loud voice, no cussing, only words carefully chosen to sound calm yet at the same time demean you and taking you down, and lies craftfully made from real facts but edited to make you feel guilty and worthless and questioned yourself. As with the post which was set so it can be read for his friends only, the abuse happened behind closed door. The incident with his son happened when he berates me because I mentioned his abusiveness in a post (The Day The Glass Slippers Break). He kicked me out from our apartment, literally putting all my clothes in a suitcase and cut off my mobile phone line (while I was still at work) in March 2016 because I posted a screenshot of him calling me an insignificant cunt and a whore to his Facebook page. He said don't air dirty laundry, what he meant to say is don't let other people see the real him.

It may look like I go low as well by posting his rant in the comment below, but I think it is important to stand against abuse. Bitching and badmouthing is one thing, standing up against your oppressor is another thing. I am not ashamed for who he said I am in his post, because it is untrue. I am not ashamed for how he treated me, because it is not my fault. It's high time he learn that his action is not acceptable, and that he will be held for judgement for things he said and do. This article will not completely stop or change the person he is, but at least he will be more reluctant (hopefully) now that he knows his victim can strike back. Here's to him causing no more (or at least less) pain.

The Art of Loving and Losing

"It hurts when I lost him. It hurts to be separated from him."

Me and my friend were talking about something else, checking up on our goals and ambitions and current events in our lives when the confession suddenly came out. I have never told anyone about this. Some might have read it all too clearly in my face and in my writing, but I never realized it until now. What he did to me was painful, but losing him was also painful.

 

To this day, I have valiantly brushed off sympathetic words with "I'm fine" and "I've never been better". Other exchanges usually went like: "I'm sorry to hear that," and me answering, "Don't worry, I'm not lol". Which is true. I am fine. I love myself. I am not sorry that I am where I am right now because there is nothing to be sorry about, I have done my best. I still struggle with the mess that he gave me, both financially and mentally, but I will make it through. But now after things are pretty much sorted out, I start to see the truth hidden underneath the pain and I have to be honest with myself. It wasn't just because what happened between us, the pain also stemmed from not having him in my life anymore.

 

A part of the pain perhaps is similar to Phantom Limb syndrome, where amputees still feel pain and feeling on their amputated limb, as if it was still attached to their body. It hurts to sleep alone at night. It hurts to came home to an empty apartment. It hurts to eat by myself. It hurts to not be able to talk about our mutual friends. It hurts to not be in the car, picking up his son or going somewhere with the tyke. It hurts to not be able to say hi to his daughter when they Skype together. It hurts to not be able playing with the cats and see how the cats being a-holes towards him. It hurts to spend holidays alone. It hurts to not have kisses and hugs as often as I want to, even on those days when I can feel his heart was not there anymore.

 

The other part of the pain is losing him as a person. I like his smile. I like his childish excitement. I like his jokes. Well, sometimes. I like how his eyes lit up when he talked about his ideas and project. I like how he'll do the silliest and craziest thing out of whim. I like how he interact with his children. I like how his children look up to him full of love and adoration. I like laughing with him. I like his shy smile. I like his grin when he did something silly. I like our late-night scooter drive through downtown LA. I like our lengthy road trips to Arizona and back. I like being lost under the stars in the plains of San Agustine with him. There were a lot of painful moments, but there were a lot of happy times as well; and if I feel hurt for losing those happy moments, it is perfectly normal.

 

Too often in the event of separation, we vilify each other. It is, after all, our coping mechanism. We want our feelings, our decision to be justified. Some of us need to talk about it over and over again in hope that we will eventually become numb, in order for us to eventually accept what had happened as a fact, removed from all of our emotion. For some of us, that wasn't enough. The love that we have turned into hatred, and we painted an evil picture of this person in our mind. Sometimes the person him/herself deserve it, having broken us so thoroughly that we no longer can see the positive in him/her. Sometimes it is us that can't deal with the loss and force ourselves to see this person as evil in order to keep our sanity, to justify our action and/or as a reasoning as to why he/she is not a part of our lives anymore.

 

Bad things happen. Good things also happen, though. There are some parts of him which I like and respect as a person. We also had good times together, and yes, I miss his presence as he was a part of my life for 4 years. I will not bury those precious memories and feelings just because of what happened between us. We are not defined by the last 3-4 months of us together, we are defined by the whole 3-4 years of us together. We have laughed together, cried together, loved each other, achieving goals (i.e. getting me here, for one) together. I will not erase all of that because it happened. All the good, all the bad, all the things that had happened is a part of my life and shaped me into who I am right now. The pain is great, but the thought of pretending none of it happened is unbearable.

 

Do I love him? No, I don't. I did love him, truly and wholeheartedly; but not anymore. It hurts to lose him, but I do not wish to be together with him anymore. It saddens me and I can feel the pain in my heart and my fingers like the pricking of a thousand needles as I wrote this. At the same time, I feel like I am betraying my current beau to still feel sad about my loss, to still respect him as a person, to not obliterate the good memories I have with him. Yet as I squealed in delight and rejoiced on the possibility of playing the newly released Pandemic Cthulhu with my beau, I realized that this is what makes me happy now. This is the special thing that I have together with my beau, just like I have the special thing I have together with him. It is not about baricading and nailing all the doors shut or destroying all traces; it's about closing the book gently and put it back on the shelf, then continue with your life.

 

Losing someone is never easy, as a part of you got taken away. Yet in times it will heal. New memories and new routines will be made, and the phantom limb syndrome will slowly disappear. New people and fresh look on life will give you new things to love, and the roses will bloom in your heart again. Cherish the memories, but don't hold on to them. Treat it like an old cassette tape: you look at it fondly and laughed when you remember how you painstakingly rewind it just to listen to that specific song over and over again, as you listened to the same song in repeat through your latest no-jack iPods. Don't hate. Love. Don't lose yourself to negativity. Memories, after all, is what we truly have in this short lives of ours. Keep the best and grow with it. My best love to you all, dear reader. My best love to you all…

Sent from my T-Mobile 4G LTE device

When Money Killed My Marriage

Looking back, I think what killed my marriage was money. I want to say that it just didn't work out. I want to say that we are just too different, that we have nothing in common. I want to say that he is a horrible human being, but then again I probably am too, and that's why we called it a day. But no. Money killed the marriage. Plain and simple.

It was there lurking in the background, creating the feeling of inadequacy. As we fight and bicker, as we vent our frustration with each other, it was there silently inflamed the frustration. As we cuddle and smile and being loving to one another, it was there silently spread a sense of underlying uneasiness. The sad part is, we have enough. It's not like we can't buy groceries or pay rent. It's just that we can't go on impulsive vacations or eating out often or take a day or a week off from work because we feel like it.

"Why are we still living in this tiny apartment?"
"Why are we still living in this sh*thole area?"
"We are not meant to live poor like this."
"Why are we not successful?"
"Why are you not a famous writer yet?"
"Why don't we have our own house, here or in Bali?"
"Why don't we have a plan?"
On good days, I will bite my tongue and stay mum on the above 'criticism'; on bad days I will counter the negative talk and we'll end up in full-blown argument.

The problem with marrying someone from abroad, especially when you meet her/him there, is that you fell in love with a girl/boy on vacation. You are not working, you got money to spend, and even if you are in his/her country to work it'll still have that distinct 'not-home' feel. When you are on vacay or making money is some faraway country you are not bothered with the bills or groceries or other day-to-day dread. You are relaxed, you are enjoying yourself. You then associate the relax and laid back feeling with that person and you think you'll achieve the same happiness with him/her every single time. It's like falling in love with a mirage.

Granted, not everyone is like this. Throughout the courtship, and eventually the marriage, time will tell if you really love this person for who he/she is, or do you love him/her for who you think (or hope) he/she is. It is a challenging enough chore, especially since you suddenly live together after a lengthy period of absence. You think it's cute when he said he love bacon, you didn't realize he ate bacon with pretty much everything, even his buggers. You think it's adorable when she said she love to cuddle, you didn't realize it means she wants to cuddle with you 24/7 like an octopus. Add financial stress to the equation and it's no longer challenging. It is downright painful.

What people don't realize is marrying someone from abroad is an expensive business. Unless the said person owns an immeasurable wealth, the sponsor (the US spouse) will be responsible for most, if not all of the bill. It is even formally required for getting fiancée/spouse visa and the conditional green card: the sponsor has to support the fiancée/spouse for two years until he/she got the non-conditional green card (or if he/she failed to obtained it and has to leave US). The initial K1 visa application itself could reach a whopping $1675. Then there's the interview and medical checkup (complete with vaccines and such). Then there's the plane ticket. Then there's the wedding fee of $135 (in CA), and this is only for courthouse wedding. Then there's another medical checkup in US for green card application, and pay up for green card application + work permit. All and all the official fee could go well into $4-5k mark.

Even if the spouse is able to pay half of the cost, there's added issue with him/her not be able to work right away. It took almost 6 months from my arrival to me receiving my work permit. It took a while for me to adjust myself in the US and I only got my first job about 4-6 months after I live in LA. My friend spent a year in community college before getting her first job. The reason is: our work experience and education means jacksh*t in US. Yes, I am a 30 something woman, but in US work force I am pretty much the equivalent of a fresh-graduate. When you sign that immigration form stating you are willing to support your fiancé/spouse, you have to really mean it because that's what will happen. Not because your fiancé/spouse is an unashamed golddigger, but because most likely he/she will need adjustment process for herself, and have to go through all the bureaucratic process of establishing him/herself as a legal resident of US in order to work legally.

This is where we failed. When we had money during the first year of our marriage, everything was smooth and fun. Entering second year, the fact that I was not working yet, and afterwards working but only earning half of what he earned, was a big annoyance for him and it lingers like a thorn in our relationship. The fact that relationship was more than money game, the fact that I poured all my heart and love to him, to the kids, to the family, these mean nothing for him. He was adamant on me 'leeching' off of him, even though I can clearly show him how much he actually 'spent' on me per month, and even though I actually chipped in right as soon as I got a job. He was not ready for the financial implication of the marriage.

Sadly, this is preventable. Yes, he is a jerk and there's nothing to prevent that. But had he actually sit down and planned out everything, we might have a chance. Sitting down and talking about your finance is scary and embarrassing. Everybody get a little defensive because nobody wants to be told that he/she can't afford things they like. Thus the evasion, the "I don't want to talk about it right now", the "I am in good condition"; it's like putting off going to the dentist for the hole in your tooth, but day in and day out you live with the painful uncomfortable feeling plus the dread knowing you will eventually have to go there anyway. One visit, one very scary moment as the doctor examined your mouth and pulled the bad tooth out, and you're done. You might even find yourself in a better place than you are before. Yeah, the strip club visits need to stop, but you'll be able to eat more than just cereal each day so to speak.

Successful couple shares the same goals, and more importantly, willing to work together to achieve that goal. Financial stability is something that every couple should strive for, especially to achieve other goals. It's easier to deal with issues and emergencies when you don't have to worry whether or not you can pay for next month's rent or buy gas to get to the office. It's easier to forgive and forget in/after the fight if you do it with full stomach and a warm bed to rest at night. I tried everything: finance on excel spreadsheet, various budgeting app from the manual to the automatic ones; he just won't budge. In the meantime, the frustration kept mounting, the fights became more and more bitter, and in the end, here we are right now, completely separated from one another.

Money destroyed my relationship but in a way it saved my life. Coming from Indonesia, I quickly realize how easy it is to navigate US' pretty-straightforward system. I managed to arrange all of my bank accounts to get the monthly fee waived. I dabbled in the world of budgeting app before finally settling into an automated one, even tried robo-investing app. I live strictly by my budget and count every penny (technically my app did that for me). By the time I decided I have enough of him I could easily walk out the door for good, because I know I can afford living by myself. My rainy day fund was enough to furnish the apartment, mini vacay to Seattle, and even self-medication through binge online shopping. I got hit by apartment fee, increase in tax withholding, and other bills that would be so much cheaper if we could share the costs. Yet it doesn't bother me that much. As a matter of fact, I now have an investment account, a ROTH/IRA, and life insurance. This all happened with my (a little bit above) minimum wage job. What he and I could achieve together, considering he makes 2.5x what I make, could be phenomenal. But it didn't happen.

If you are looking to get serious with someone, if you wanted to escape of your daily frustration with life, sit down and do your finance. Money is not everything but having it (wisely) will give you option, which will be very useful when sh*t happens. And since this is life we're talking about, sh*t always happen. There's no embarrassment on knowing what you can or cannot afford, and everybody struggle with this regardless of how much they make. Save your relationship, save your sanity. Sit down and do your homework. It will do you good, and you might not need to lose the one you love. Take it from me: it sucks.

Let Me Rest My Head on You

Datanglah sayang dan biarkan ku berbaring
[Come my dear and let me lay]
Di pelukanmu walaupun tuk sejenak
[In your arms even if it’s only for a while]
Usaplah dahiku dan kan kukatakan semua
[Caress my forehead and I will tell you all]

Bila kulelah tetaplah disini
[When I am tired please stay here]
Jangan tinggalkan aku sendiri
[Don’t let me be by myself]

Bila kumarah biarkanku bersandar
[When I’m angry let me rest my head on you]

Jangan kau pergi untuk menghindar
[Don’t you go and evade me]

When I first hear this song again, the first time after almost a decade, what was on my mind was my boyfriend resting his head on my shoulder as we sat on the couch; which was our description for a perfect date. This post was supposed to be on how our partner, our boyfriend and/or girlfriend needed such attention. How fancy dates and cool nights out are exciting, but sometimes they just need somebody to lean on. Then it strikes me, I need somebody to lean on too.

One of the challenges in my personal growth right now is defining what I want. I have always been content with what I have, and since I am used on being independent, I don’t ask people for help. I don’t feel like I should ask people for help because “I got it”, so there is no point of bothering other people. The insecure part of me keeps on thinking that being helpful is good and attractive, being helpless is not. And I don’t think I am special for thinking like this. There must be other people, many people, who simply cannot say what they want because they are afraid to hear the “no” or because they are afraid to be a burden.

This is a wrong way of thinking. Relationship is not a one-way street. Life is not a one-way street. What you give, you take. It might not be exactly eye-for-an-eye type of transaction, but if you give something you deserve some kind of retribution in return. I like caring and spoiling my partner, it makes me happy; but it doesn’t mean that he can’t or shouldn’t care for me in return because I don’t exactly ask for it. Just because I don’t need a million dollar doesn’t mean I will say no to it, especially if I earned it fair and square.

The meek and submissive mouse in me rebel as I wrote this article. Don’t attract attention and be happy for what you have, it said. But I can’t. Looking back, I think my marriage was salvageable had only I receive the attention like in the song lyric. I am strong, I am smart, I am independent; but sometimes I need to lay my head on the shoulder of my loved one as I rant and talk and let the burden off my chest and my shoulder for a little while. Sometimes it is not enough to be a meek, accepting little mouse. Sometimes you just want to be a cat and bothered your host so thoroughly until you get his/her attention, with claws might or might not included in the method.

It is not even an outrageous request. We’ve all been there. We’ve all been in a place where we just had enough with life, the point where we don’t want to adult anymore. I’ve been there, and I want my partner to stay. I want my partner to hold me close and listen to my rant, and then hug me closer afterwards. Yes, my rant about my $15/hr job probably sounded less important than your $30/hr job. But you know what’s even more important than that? My sanity. My existence. If I am not important enough for you to help me deal with my emotion, why should yours be important for me? And this applied to so many people. Too often in a relationship we ended up thinking one is more important than the other, that our partner is more important than us or vice versa; when we should instead realize that a good relationship is a balanced one, that’s where all the respect coming from.

My dissolution of marriage taught me a lot of things. It pretty much forced me to stand up for myself. Yes, I still love taking care and spoiling my partner; but this time I felt more comfortable to ask to be treated the same in return, albeit still with the “If you don’t mind, can you please…” attitude. Hey, managing to solidify what I want in the relationship instead of accepting it as it is, and actually demanding it too, is a pretty big leap for me. So far it worked pretty well. It made the relationship went smoother and eliminate the guessing game a.k.a “If he/she like me enough he/she should’ve known that I prefer…”; and it also give me the confidence that I need. Knowing that I have the same share on the table enables me to be more assertive, and it helps to know I am strong enough to walk out of the table if by some horrible stroke of luck the table got messed up again.

Trust me, this is not easy for me. The words are grand and it conjured such a dashing image of me being a power-woman, but the reluctance to put somebody in trouble (a.k.a asking for attention) sometimes still get the best of me. For example, I hesitate for quite a while on whether or not letting my boyfriend know I was a bit sick this morning. I know a balance must be made. Flooded a person with unimportant information and he/she might think everything that come out of your mouth is unimportant. Let’s tell him when it’s REALLY important, the meek mouse said triumphantly. He ended up knowing anyway, most possibly from my non-characteristic silence. And no, little mouse, he didn’t break up with me just because of that. Take that, you little twat.   

Scorned Lover's Vengeance

"You are keeping him down like Hillary keeping Bill Clinton down!" To this accusation I angrily retort: "Go suck a d*ck, Monica."

The afternoon before I had to delete old pics from my phone due to storage issue, and it threw me down to memory lane. That, combined with dizzying cold-like symptom and (apparently) my personal distaste towards the election, made up a really unpleasant dream where I had to share a house with my ex and his mistress complete with the exchange above. It was horrible. In the dream, I had to restrain my impulse to pulled her hair and bitch slap her as she went about goading me about how wonderful love and life with my ex is. I had to bit my tongue as to not say snarky comments towards her. Of course, my ex only shyly introduced us and immediately went away. Typical of him to get out of the harm's way. There was a scene where she reprimanded me for being on the bed with shoes on while she was trying to make it up, to which I replied: "I am still his wife, and this is still my bed."

The dream meaning was obvious. I hate her. I really, really hate her. I hate that she made my stupid husband choose her. I hate that she managed to destroy my life. I hate that people seemed to cheer her along, even in my dream. I hate the words "takes two to make or break the marriage" as if there are only two of us to be blamed. In my case, it takes three to break the marriage to the point of no return. And I hate that I tried so hard not to hate her. I hate the guilt I feel every time I talk nasty about her with my friends. I hate the constant reminder: "Oh, but this all happened because of your husband". Yes, it is true. If it's not her there will be other girls. But it was her. It was her decision. And I hate her for that.

A part of me wants to write a really nasty piece about her, humiliate her and take her down in a way that she can never get back on her feet again. I have the same sentiment for my ex-husband too. For the lonely nights I have to go through, for the grief in my heart I have to live with, for having to re-live my life from point zero, they deserve nothing less. I don't want to wait for Karma. I want to see them burned right now. I want them to feel my anger, my sorrow, my grief right now. They have absolutely no business on being happy when I am in such pain. I want to destroy them so thoroughly and see them writhing in agony in the grips of my hands.

Which pretty much summed it up. It wasn't about love lost. I have lost all interest in him. It wasn't about comfort. I am lonely but I live a more colorful life these days and my life is pretty much in order. It wasn't about what-ifs and the life I could have had with him. We clashed in so many ways that it will take a herculean effort to get us on the same track, let alone to actually make the damn love train work. It was about pride. It was about dignity. It was about paying back. This is not a heart-wrenching scorned-lover moment, this is a you-slap-me-I'll-slap-you-back moment. I am well aware that this will achieve nothing, and I don't care. I was wronged; and since two wrongs don't make a right, it's time to wronged them. Let them see who I am and maybe next time they both will think twice before wronging me.

But there won't be a next time. I have no ties with any of them, and by the time the divorce is completed it will be as if none of this has happened. This feeling too will fade away. It'll probably scarred me for life, but it'll stay only as scar tissue. Will I actually destroy 2 lives just because of my pride? What they did was wrong for me. They wronged me, plain and simple. He shouldn't have had a girlfriend and he should have dropped her off when I asked him to. She shouldn't have messing around with a knowingly married man and keep on doing that even after she knows the hell I've gone through. But they did it for a reason. They did it for their happiness.

Granted, it is a horribly selfish reason. You shouldn't be happy by sacrificing somebody else's feeling. But then again, I wasn't happy in that relationship. If she didn't come into the picture, I probably still unhappily married to him, holding on to the thinnest thread of hope that one day he will love me like he did before. Looking at his pictures with his newly-announced girlfriend, both of them smiling made me feel torn. It sucks to see their happy faces when here I struggle to get my life together, where even the ease of getting a flu shot is taken away from me. But why can't they be happy? Why should I become the black cloud looming on their life, ready to pour my wrath and throw my tantrum at them? It's all said and done. What they did was wrong, but in actuality, there isn't anything that was taken away from me. My pride is still intact. My life skills increased. My emotional strength fortified. I am still the woman walking gaily on the street of LA, with a smile on my face and my characteristic "I love life" attitude.

People told me that they wouldn't last, that both of them will regret what they did once they realize the true face of one another. I wish they would last, and last happily too. I have paid dearly for their happiness and for that alone, I wish them the abundance of happiness to offset the pain I went through. The scale must be balanced, else I paid too much for too little. I wish them both strength to hold on to each other for the troublesome times to come. It's a relationship, troublesome times will always happen no matter what. I wish them clarity to remember the good of each other, and forgetfulness to conveniently blocked out the petty things they secretly hate from each other. I pray for the maturity of both of them. Happiness doesn't come easy. If happiness is feeling the rain on your skin, true happiness is feeling the rain on your skin again after holding out for so long through the drought. Good times will come, but better days is there in the future.

Go announced your girlfriend proudly, dear ex-husband. She deserves that recognition and the credit for making you happy again. Go announced your boyfriend proudly, dear mistress. If you like him that much then tell the whole world how awesome he is. And be happy. Be loyal. Be together. Every one of us has paid dearly for where you both are right now. We have paid in tears and fears and countless days of agonies. We all deserve a little happiness, don't you think? May the odds be ever in your favour, but even if it's not, make it work in your favour. Make sure what we all paid for is worth the price. Best wishes to you both.

Stepmother's Wrath

The worst, the absolute worst part of being divorced is losing my 'family'. Holiday season is coming up and I am facing the prospect, nay, fact, that I will pretty much spending it all by myself. Losing him was something I can deal with, losing my stepchildren was far, far worse. Let's face it, a dick is not that hard to find (pun intended); two precious kids that you have invest all your love and affection to since the beginning of the relationship, not so much.

To say I am angry will be a gross understatement. Here I am, hating every inch of the pumpkin-y witchy fall/Halloween décor that I can't escape from on pretty much every store that I went to. Even effing online stores. It reminds me too much of discussing with my stepkids what they'll be for Halloween, what's their plan and, afterwards, did they have a good loot this year. For the last two year I have been trying to get my stepson to experience DTLA Halloween party, and now we'll never will.

Soon Thanksgiving and Christmas will come. Of course, we all know holidays are such chores. All the money spent for gifts and travels, keeping an eye on them so they won't get caught up in unnecessary fights and dramas with their cousins (I have moral obligation to returned them to their moms in one piece, preferably with good memories), coaxing them to please just effing eat and stop playing, soothing them when they got sensory overload or just too tired to know better, and this is all only for a 4-hours family gathering. It sucks. It's tiring. And I will do that all over again just for the sake of hugging them tight and laugh with them.

Despite the fact that none of his family actually check up on me after all that had happened, I am also intimidated and hurt that I will spend the holidays by myself. I might be able to kidnap my boyfriend, but spending the holiday with just the two of us is different than the usual big ol' family gathering that I am used to, that I am made to use to ever since I came here to the US. I mean, what a grand idea: take a woman out from her family and homeland, made her get accustomed with your tradition, then toss her out when you get the itch for a college girl that you probably can't get into the US anyway. What could possibly go wrong? 

I doubt that he actually thought about all this when he decided to pursue his 'happiness' with someone who 'doesn't treat him like an a-hole'. Well honey, the fact that my happiness and the kids' happiness got thrown under the bus just for your sake pretty much describe your a-holiness. What would you expect will happen with your wife and kids?

Of all the messages I found between him and his toy, the one that hurt me the most was the message: "I love your son". Really b*tch? 2-3 months of texting my husband without interacting with this kid even once and you 'love' him? Did you spend 1 ½ year of long distance relationship bracing the possibility that he will get back to one of the moms, and if he did it's ok because it will be better for the kid(s)? Did you sit in the car or wait outside, not even once setting foot on the moms' doorsteps out of respect for their privacy for the whole 3 years of marriage? Knowing you can, but you want to honor both the moms and the kids. Did you stay with this son when he was sick, or when he was being a pain in the butt but you still hug him close because he was your everything? Did you patiently explain to him how you will save him and his daddy in the event of fire, and ensure his tender heart that everything will be ok, that you will save the day for him; even though his dad just kicked you out of the house a few weeks back and turns out was cheating with a li'l b*tch? Did you stay awake for HOURS because he just. wont. sleep; but you suppress your urge to yell at him because you understand that it was only because he was uncomfortable about something? Because that's what 'Love' is. It's not just lipservice and adoring how cute the kids are. It's giving your best to someone else for the sake of their happiness. What happened to you is not important because their feeling, these kids' feeling, is more important. That's what 'Parent's love' is all about.

And the sad part is, all this rant won't get me anywhere. I have lost my stepchildren. I could ask the moms nicely for a Skype or a playdate if I missed them so terribly, but it won't be the same. With the divorce my right for them is pretty much non-existent. A friend pointed out that it means I can live my life without the hindrance of somebody else's kids; but that also means that they can live their life without me. And they will. I can no longer be a part of their life. A friend, perhaps; but not a stepmom anymore. Of all the things he took away from me, this was the cruelest. 

I missed them so much. TVs and online ads will be swamped with picture of happy kids and family for the holiday season, and here I am all by myself. How I longed to hold them in my arms again, to laugh with them and to tell silly jokes. How I longed for those little hands to touch my face or to feel their warmth as they sleep next to me. How I longed to hear them shyly told me, "I like you, Ibu" and that moment all your hardship, all the pain you went through, felt so worth it and you will do it all over again just to have a sliver of that blissful moment. But it was gone now, and these kids are irreplaceable. Even if I have another stepchildren it won't be the same. The love you have for a man can easily be replicate or substituted, but the love you have for your kids, even if it's not your birth-kids, is irreplaceable.

He told me to leave, so I left. He wanted this woman, so I left. I could stay for the sake of the kids, but I choose to leave. It was a cruel choice that I was forced to make: to stay with someone who doesn't love or respect me, or to leave for my own sake but lost my stepchildren forever. I made the choice, and the joy of holiday season and missed birthdays will forever haunt me. Stay well, little ones. Ibu will never forget you both.

The Day Good Won Against Evil

It's calling me again. The summon is strong. The time has come. For days tensions and excitement has build up. The noisy chittering little spirits, the subtle restlessness of those with ties to the world, it has grown and grown. Why not? This is the time where the Bhutakalas will be appeased with blood and offerings, and for us the ancestral spirits to return home and see our descendants. This is Galungan, the day where the Dharma or goodness wins against Adharma or evil. Shouldn't we all be joyous on this blissful day?

But what is good and what is evil? I can't help asking myself this question as the spirit of animals and plants soaring through our world, invisible to naked eyes but not to us. The day before Galungan is aptly named Penampahan or butchering day, because this is the day where the animals are killed for the offerings, and the day when the offerings are made. To some human these people are evil, as they have cruelly slaughtered the innocent animals. (But what about plants' spirit?). To some people, the fact that blood and offering are needed to appease the Bhutakala made these spirits evil. And then there's the calling of the space objects and how it is arranged, combined with the already growing tension between the spirits' excitement and personal pressure to ensure the holiday went smoothly, which invariably set people off. Then those people will be called evil, or at the very least, unpleasant.

So what is evil? Good is somewhat easier to describe. Anything that made other people happy is usually describe as good, and anything that does the opposite is described as evil. However, not all unpleasant things are evil. A dog that bites an intruder us considered evil by the intruder, but good by its master. It's almost like good is definite, but evil is relative; althought it might look the other way around. The spirits or Bhutakalas often times considered as evil, and some indeed are dangerous; but don't humans have criminals as well? If tempting and teasing humans are considered evil, what can human say about other human that feeds on its own people?

The many times I have come back to earth for the holy day, and it still stays the same. Yes, the day itself gives out an undescribable feeling of happiness; but what have they, my descendants, have truly achieved? For Evil is not the monster that lurks in the dark, waiting to pounced and hurt them. Nor does Good the shiny hero that got adored and worshipped by people. Good is Dharma, a set of selfless acts for the good of all. It is honoring the world, both seen and unseen. It's choosing compassion over fear or personal grudge. It is combating one's own weaknesses or Sad Ripu in order to be a better person. It is putting oneself as a true believer of God. As for Adharma, it's the opposite of it all.

There is no Evil that we need to combat other than the Sad Ripu, the six temptation within us. For that is where the true evil lies, the one that prevent them and us to become one with God. There is no Good that we need to praised except those who walked in the path of Dharma, fulfilling their obligation to this world because they love this world, because they know that is what they have to do. And it is easy to understand all of this when you have an eternity (or what it feels like it) drifting in serenity, free of emotions. But when I get reborn, these knowledge might not be accesible to me. What's next then? How can I be free from this reincarnation cycle if I can't remember what I have to do to break free?

But maybe somebody will remember, even if it's only bits and pieces of it. Maybe the person I am reincarnated to will remember, and that person will write it down. Others will mock and sneer at the idea. Others will think that person is not right in the head. Others who pursued glory will deemed this person an impostor. But there will be others who will read and will remember what's it like in the other place, to be free from emotions and other worldly chains, to be (almost) one with God. There will be others who will understand and walked in the path of Dharma; and little by little the number will grow until maybe, just maybe, no one will need to walk the path because all of us already one with God. Maybe.

But now the prayers has called for me. The festivities has started. This is Galungan day. Let us celebrate. Let this day filled with Joy and good things. Let Dharma reign, let every being be content. Let there be peace on earth.  Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om...

Suicidal Sunday

Last Sunday I woke up feeling I want to kill myself. It wasn't just a "bad morning" or "depressed", it wasn't "I need coffee and whiskey in the same mug" or "Chips and Ice cream and pajamas" kind of day. It was a full-blown if-I-had-some-sleeping-pills-I-will-overdose-myself. It was "I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel". It was "Why am I still here? Why am I still alive?".  It was "I don't want to be here anymore". 

It sucks and it took me by surprise. It took everyone by surprise. Just the other morning I happily chatted with my mom over video call. I had a really long and delicious nap. I got laid and it was totally awesome. We played board game all afternoon and well into the evening. Everyone was so much fun to hang out with. I had sushi, which I had been craving for since two-three weeks ago. And ice cream too, Ben and Jerry's Americone. It was a simple yet blissful day. The food was great, the companion was impeccable, and everything went right. Yet the next morning I want to kill myself.

Crisis was averted by my friend, who amazingly managed to keep her calm when I called her midnight Indonesia time and told her sobbingly I want to kill myself. She didn't offer consolation or kind yet empty words, just this acknowledgement: "You are tired. You are overwhelmed. That doesn't make you weak or a bad person." She was right. I was a mess. That doesn't make me a bad person. But I still hate myself. I still want all of this to end. I hate myself for allowing myself to be such a mess. I hate that I miss my stepkids and my cats so very badly. I hate myself for being lonely at night. I hate myself for not achieving more. I hate myself for spending 4 hours commute time each day only staring at the road or on my phone instead of focus on my writing. I hate that I disappoint myself at work. I hate being scared that I financially can't afford to live here. I hate this person whom I have become and I want her gone with all her sadness and fear and uselessness, I want her gone. 

Hidden beneath the fancy word "divorce" was a huge tangle of thorny mess. All aspects of your life was thrown in it, and you'll find yourself bruised and bleeding trying to overcome all those mess: paying up taxes and apartments and other bills now that you are in separate way, adjusting with the sudden loss of friends and family members which whom inevitably took side, figuring out a way to live by yourself since you've been together with the other person since God knows when. Divorce is not only he/she got what. It is the destruction of a relationship, of a good portion (if not all) of your life. The actual reason for the divorce might be the Kraken who was awaken and completely annihilate your island till there was no return, but divorce would be the surviving people who caught you off guard and not only robbed you and stripped you off all your things – valuable or not, but also rape you and beat you and left you there to die. In another word, you are fucked.

I have been f*cked big time. This was not how I imagined myself to be when I arrived from Indonesia, a bright-eyed woman full of hope, with my pretty newly-made wedding dress in my small suitcase. I know life was hard, but I hardly expect myself to be in this position. I am tired and overwhelmed, and rightly so. I have been betrayed. I lost everything that is dear to me. I had to start everything from zero, without close friends or family to help me. I can't get help because I don't know if I can afford it or not, and I can't deal with the long waiting time. Often times all I need is a hug, but since I only know a handful of people here that was a luxury that I can't afford as well. I already spent almost all of my sick days + paid leave for those days when I just can't. I was taken here under the pretext of love and such, and now I have to live by myself, maneuvering life with my meager 1 year of professional work experience. I closed my eyes and I will recall the horrid moments when he decided to choose the other woman over me (and still kept her despite his request for reconciliation and marriage counselling), I opened my eyes and I will see all the mess that he put me in.

Of course, I could go home. It is always an option. But even there I will still be tired and overwhelmed. Restarting my life after 4 years of absence is not a small feat. The questions, the curious gossip, the work search, I still have to deal with that and more. Which makes me feel so angry and so tired. Either way, I am f*cked. And yes, I still have to live with the emotional scars he has given me. The insecurity has been etched so deep into me that often times my boyfriend would notice the panic look in my eyes, no matter how subtle it was. I would be happy and full of laughter, witty and flirty; but the next day I will be reduce to this grotesque being full of fear and sadness. I can't live like this. I don't want to spend every day reliving the horror in my heart, the insecurity and the fear and the loathsome for myself that he has planted in me. I don't want to burden people with my psychotic episodes and useless lamentation. I can't live like this. 

When an extraordinary event of sadness happens, everyone will be hand in hand going to the rescue. Natural disasters, tragic accident, the loss of your loved ones, there will be people that will help you in a jiffy. But after that you are on your own. Even as the house has been rebuilt after the disaster, the person who stays in the house still has to adjust with the new house and deal with the feeling that it is not his/her old house. "You can do it," we say. "You need to move on with your life," we claimed. Other times we just don't have time for them anymore. The crisis has been averted, has it not? The huge crisis, yes; but throughout the healing process there would be tons of mini crisis that just adds up until you just can't take it anymore. Until you want it to end as quickly as possible, come what may the consequences is. Just because a person looks happy and content, that doesn't mean they are free from their demon. I learn this the hard way.

That Sunday morning made me realize how vulnerable I am still. That despite me acting out all independent and cool, I am still battered and broken inside. And it is fine. It is ok to be sad. It is ok to be hurt. It is ok to be tired. Most importantly, it is ok to seek help or at the very least to be honest with myself. I am not well, but instead of forcing myself to feel well and "You're stronger than this!", I should have giving myself a hug and telling myself "Gotcha. It's ok." It is not being weak, it is appreciating myself and what I've been through. I have trudged along thinking it would be the best, because I really don't want to be seen as weak or, heaven forbid, a burden for my friends and family. I was so wrong. I need their help. Yes, I will be repetitive and boring as hell, I will tell you every little thing that would make you rolled your eyes and think, "This again?", but guess what? You will understand. Because you know me and you know I won't ask your help if I don't need it so very badly. And I should believe in you, and in myself. 

The first step to healing in mental illness is acknowledging you have a problem. I need to acknowledge that. I also need to believe it is fixable. That I am not defined by the horror and the pain that broods in me. That I am not defined by demeaning words he said to me. That I am something, that I am good enough that people actually care and wanted to help me. Believing all of these are not easy. Not at all. But I have to do it. I want to be free from fear and anguish, I want to live a life of gaiety. I want to, as Spock would say it, "Live long and prosper." Despite my demons, I have thoroughly enjoyed the life I have right now. The world is my oyster and I'll take it as a shot with damn good Bloody Mary. And no, I don't want to kill myself. Not anymore. Not anymore.

The Mongrel in Me

My friend has a dog that cowers every time someone place a hand over her head. Apparently the owner/breeder was not kind to her when she was a puppy, and even after so much love and in her ripe old age she still cowers. She is still bracing herself for the hit, even though it may never come again.

I am that dog.

I know things will be better. I know things have become better. I know my worth. I know my achievements and is very proud of them. I like who I am. I like how I smile more, how much happier and free I have become. I know I have come a long way. I know I have braced the storm. And I couldn't be prouder for myself for doing such a good job, for maintaining my sanity and dignity when all others are lost.

But I am still bracing for the hit.

A simple text message about his ex sent me into frenzy. I was ready to fight or flight: i.e. ditch the relationship or making him explain everything even if I have to hurt him, better him than me. Which is both crazy and stupid, because I like him a lot, and I'd rather hurt myself than to shred the person I like, or any person in that matter, to pieces over an insignificant reason. And since we've been together for only about a month, it's highly irrelevant. There are other things we still need to argue about and at a much later time. 

It is stupid. It is selfish. Yet at the same time, it is oh so valid.

Just because I feel better, just because I look better, it doesn't mean that I am wholly better. H. P. Lovecraft wrote: "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear." I have a lot of fear in my heart. I am scared my ex will bother and hurt me again. I am scared I will got hurt by my newfound love. I am scared I will get neglected and discarded again. I am scared that I will be considered insignificant again. I am scared that what my ex said is right, that I am not good enough for anything. And I am scared to say all of this to my newfound love for being seen broken and unattractive. 

Which means I am f***ed. How can I fix myself without any help?

Self-help book and such just love to say the magic phrase: "Only you can fix yourself". It is true that your willingness to get help and, subsequently, to change plays a great role in fixing yourself. The first step to treat mental illness is when he/she admits there is something wrong with him/herself. Otherwise it'll only be a waste of everyone's time. However, you simply can't magic yourself into self-acceptance and peacefulness, just like you can't magic yourself into 3 inches taller or 20 lbs lighter. 

There are many other things that you can do/fix by yourself. Your mental issue is unfortunately not one of those.

So here I am, bare and naked. I have been hurt so bad it made me scared to love. I have been broken so bad it made me crumpled and invalid. My confidence has been shot down. My trust has been destroyed. I have lost all my hopes, all my dreams, all the reasons I have lived for for the past 4 years. I may look well-groomed and happy now, but inside I am that dirty ugly mongrel that you found in the gutter, the one that whimpered so pitifully but growled so menacingly when you tried to help and picked me up. 

Is that all of me? Of course not.

I am fiercely loyal. I am kind. I am smart and funny in my own quirky way. I am fair. I will not hurt you unless you give me a really, really good reason for it. I am independent. I am resourceful. I am fun to be with. I am just a good person all round. But this happy-go-lucky person wont survive long if the darkness inside still prevailed, if the dark chasm is not lit and monsters still loomed inside. Regardless what people think, I don't even have to kill the monsters or groomed the ugly mongrel. I just need to somehow make sure they are loved and accepted.

That's why I need people.

I need people to help me loving and accepting this hideous part of me. I need people to lit up the darkness within me with their kind smile and genuine affection. I need to feel that I am not alone, because I really shouldn't be alone with the fear and monsters in my heart. Some might walk away, and it's okay. This is an optional war, so to speak. It is also an ongoing one with no clear description of victory. It might take me several months to healed, it might take decades. All I can do is trudge along, gathering (new) enforcement as I go.

And I am very, very lucky. 

I am lucky enough to be able to speak eloquently about my feeling. I am lucky enough to grasp the concept that it is ok to be a victim, that I wasn't in the wrong because my fairy-tale relationship was burned to the ground. I am lucky enough to understand that my feelings are valid, that all the fear and monsters lurking inside me is not a sign of weakness or craziness, but a mark of hardship that I bore. And it is ok to be hurt. It is ok to be broken. It is ok to not be ok. Most importantly, I am lucky to realized I need help.

Those who had to keep silent and endure your monsters behind the closed door, those who think you deserve such horrible fate, those who repeatedly told and believe that you are worthless, you are not alone.

As I said, I am lucky enough to have the means to get help, others might not. Be it for their own situation, their personality, or the fact that help is not readily or easily available, these people might not be able to get the help they needed. If you know one of them, please be kind. All we need is love and acceptance. If you are one of them, please remember that you are not alone. No amount of words from a stranger like me could fix you, but the promise of acknowledgement, the notion that you do not suffer alone, hopefully could ease your soul. We are not alone.

And may we all find peace and acceptance within us. May the burden lighter, the darkness lessen. May we all be happy and safe.

Ode to Mother Earth

Grace be to Mother Earth
From her womb we are all born
From her body we are all live
To her we will all come home

The soil that nurture
The land that feeds
The dirt where we rest
For now and for eternity

Is it not the soil that feeds the plant
Which in turn feeds the animal and us?
Is it not the land that spread its beauty
And allow us to thrive and grow?

Every flower that blooms, high or low
Every blade of grass or lowest 'shroom
Every juicy fruit and delectable vegetables
Mother Earth's energy flows through them

Every graceful animal that moves
Every little one that we can barely see
Every human that stood on this earth
Mother Earth's energy flows through us

Yet we destroy and we hurt
We rendered her useless and inhabitable
We drained her energy with no thanks
Still She gives. And gives. And gives.

Is the world not beautiful enough?
With all the colors and shapes that entice us
Is the world not delightful enough?
With food and friend and place to live and sustain us

We feed on things that fed by her energy
We live our life upon her back
And when we're gone, we'll be reunited with her
And then, the circle continues

Close your eyes and feel her love
In every morsel of food we eat, grown from her
In every natural beauty we see, created from her
In every movement we made, sustained by her

Close your eyes and feel her strength
Cities built, destroyed, and built again
Civilization came one after another
Yet she stays the same, as the sun and moon and stars

Close your eyes and be close to her
Touch the land and thank her
Touch the leaves and thank her
Touch your beloved and thank her

Thank you Mother Earth for your energy
Thank you Mother Earth for your love
Thank you Mother Earth for your patience and kindness
Thank you Mother Earth…

Sing and Dance Your Life Away

I think people should live their lives like a bunch of drunkies on the dance floor. Not just any dance floor, though. It should be one with especially good DJ/Band and most of the people are not even drunk, just buzzed enough to have fun and not humiliate themselves (that much). Or live life like you are in a Karaoke, be it the actual karaoke parlors/bars or in the comfort of your own car. Or like you are in a perpetual mood of singing in the shower. Have fun, be free, belt out that out-of-tune rendition of Rihanna or Celine Dion, then do some more. Life should be that free and unrestrained.

I went to a Harry Potter Birthday Bash a few weeks ago, and it was one of the most amazing nights I've ever had. A lot of cute Harrys, quite a few Gryffindors and Slytherins (where are all the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs?), and a really, really good band. I danced and sang till my chest hurt, and then I danced and sang some more. The euphoria was maddening. Sure, some of us already had some booze by then, but the band just keep rocking song after song and we keep coming back to dance and sing along like crazy. A woman screamed in delight "We have the same purse!!" and hugged me, another one simply doing a dance off with me, everyone was happy and joyful. And I thought to myself, "What a wonderful world." [Pun fully intended]

You might remind me nicely: "Yeah, but booze is involved." Which is not true. I felt the same way singing crazily in the car, or in my shower, or (silently) at work with my headphones on. Music is magic. Combined that with words, which are also pure magic, and we got ourselves a life changer here. Have you ever listen to a song and said, "This is so me!!"; or got your emotion changed after hearing a certain song? One time when I was in high school I was singing "How Could an Angel Break My Heart" so heartbrokenly, which made my friend rolled her eyes and said, "See here, he's not even an angel. Quit this crap." Of course, she was right. But at that time that's how I felt and Toni Braxton captured it so eloquently. Haven't we all been there before?

Songs allow you to put your emotion on your sleeve. You can cry, laugh, express yourself anyway you want with them. Combine the power of song (music+word) with the power of dance (a.k.a releaser of happy-juice serotonin), and you'll find yourself in the center of blissful euphoria. You are there, and for that precious moment, you are you. Problems cease to exist, worries and fear are set aside, there's nothing else matter but you and yourself. And this is a good feeling to have. Too often we are straddled with our burdens, with our what-ifs. Too often we have to mask our own feeling in order to 'fully function' in the society. A good song to dance to allow that little hidden-guy/girl to come up and got acknowledged for a brief moment.

But this is more than just singing (and/or dancing) to a good song. It's also about realizing that happiness is within our reach. Life is hard, don't we all know that? Yet it shouldn't be unenjoyable. Human is awesome in a way they can alter their perspective of life any way they wanted to. A stranger's smile, for instance, could be a game changer for you on whether the day would be promising and fulfilling, or if it's going to be another sucky pitiful one. [There are people who get grumpy after getting a smile, FYI]. It's all in our head, in our mind. Animals digest facts and basic emotion, but we are equipped with so much more than that. We can imagine. Future is not an abstract concept for us, and we can use it likewise. The understanding that happiness is only a song/a dance away could potentially make your life more worthwhile. Don't like singing or dancing? Find your certain happiness, and cling on to it. In your deepest, darkest day remember what makes you happy and let it light your heart. Happiness is never that far away.

There are people who had been hurt too bad that they can't think of happiness that lightly; or people with emotional defects that can't feel happiness. Or so we think. Happiness is not limited to certain joyous action. If enjoying your time alone is your description of happiness, so be it. Pursue and hold on to things that would bring that sense of joy and peace in yourself, just as long as it is not self-harming or harm others. Some people are happy to be Eeyore, complaining endlessly but at the same time is still a fully-functioning BFF. If you are one of them, embrace your Eeyore-ish-ness. You are fine that way. And for others who simply can't be happy, a smile, your smile would help. Stand clear in case these unhappy porcupines release their quills and poke you, but smile nevertheless. The world is a much better place if we all smile more. And dance more. And sing more.

Live your life like that day at the party/karaoke/shower/whatever; where you think you already enjoy yourself so much and ready to move on, but then another song came up and you are running back like crazy to dance and sing along some more. Be so joyous and ecstatic that you'll send your special person a drunkance (drunk/dance) text of Oasis' Wonderwall's lyric. Wake up the next morning or from your nap thinking, "By Jove, that was AWESOME!!". We only have this life to live, at least the one that we know of right now. Don't ruin it by not realizing how close happiness is. Don't waste it by feeling or being anything other than awesome. Yes, even on Mondays like today. Rock on, fellas.