andopedia

A Truly Discounted Black Friday

2008-11-30T01:26:00.008+07:00

Wal-Mart’s advertising slogan of “Save Money, Live Better” took an ironic twist amid the frantic Black Friday shopping in Long Island, New York, when one of its temporary employees was trampled to death by a rushing mob of frenzied shoppers. This lynching mob of early vultures seemed to take the adage of “shop ‘til you drop” too seriously and, as a result, did not just leave meatless turkey carcass as Thanksgiving leftover.

I learned that this horrific incident happened last Friday morning when a long line of eager shoppers, some of them had been waiting in line from the night before, stormed into the store as soon as the door was opened. Ostensibly, they knew what lay in store for them: shelves of highly discounted MP3 players, electronic gadgets and toys up for grabs. Sadly, this did not hold true for the unfortunate employee who was obviously oblivious of what stood outside the store for him. God bless his soul.

This is truly a sad story. What is even heart-wrenching was the story that the poor guy was trampled underfoot for minutes(!) before he could get any help from his colleagues. And did the shoppers stop to help? Of course not, they came for a bargain, and sometimes even a bargain required a collateral. They were there for the loss leaders and doorbusters! Well, it looked more like loss of life and bonebusters to me. A truly discounted Black Friday.

Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas

2008-11-25T22:46:00.004+07:00

Coming to a city with alluring labels like “the Entertainment Capital of the World”, “the Ultimate Sin City”, or “the Brightest City on Earth”, would inevitably evoke a feeling of great anticipation, and this was exactly how I felt as I stepped out of the plane and treaded the terra firma of Las Vegas.

The short flight from Monterey was surprisingly smooth and the guide of Vegas provided on the plane only added to the anticipation. Well, the first thing to do would be securing a place to stay. I had already made a booking in Circus Circus, a circus-themed (surprise surprise) hotel located on the famous Las Vegas Strip which boasted 3,774 rooms and 9,833 m2 of casino area. It was not fancy, but it is one of the largest hotels in the world with more slot machines than you could ever need or want.

Okay, I have to say one thing about the slot machines: I think they’re all a scam, and exclusively built to rip you off! From what I read somewhere, slot machines are typically programmed to yield a “theoretical payout percentage”, which basically represents the amount of money you win back from your overall wager. The minimum number of percentage varies as typically established by law or regulation, and is 75% for the state of Nevada.

So let’s do the math then: I wagered my money that gave me 120 credits. That number would give me 120 one-credit chances of pulling the lever and trying to be richer. Well, I pulled and I pulled until my arm ached, but only ended up with 120 consecutive occasions of mismatched symbols. Statistically, is it even possible that a man like me (decent, hard-working, and good-looking) could be so down on his luck? Oh, well, at least I realized it on time and successfully refrain myself from chipping in another 120 credits.

Having squandered my government salary on gambling machines, I then proceeded to watch a topless, vampire-themed revue in the Stratosphere. The show was not spectacular, but I enjoyed it (4 out of 5), and it fittingly offered me a first bite of nocturnal Vegas. Afterwards, I thought, what’s the point of visiting THE Sin City if you don’t, well, sin? I always strive to keep up with the Joneses like a good Roman should. Hence, I checked out some of the vice-indulging activities Vegas had to offer, and settled on paying a visit to Sapphire, the so-called world’s largest nightclub. Well, I couldn’t care less about its size or practically much of anything else as soon as I stepped into the joint, though. The place was swarmed with beautiful people and the ambience was all girls, girls, girls. Details will be spared to protect the guilty. After all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Oxymoron of the Day

2008-10-01T07:57:00.003+07:00

"It was all about the consent of the majority."

-A Russian professor, recounting on how Russia assumed the role of sole successor to the Soviet Union. Realizing the oxymoron, he laughed so hard and woke the whole class-

Home is where the rice is

2008-09-22T18:30:00.002+07:00

Ah, Monterey at last. A taxi ride, two long-haul flights, and a shuttle journey were what it took to get to this city on the northern side of the Monterey Peninsula. As soon as I set my feet upon terra firma, I was without ado whisked away to my new dwelling: a two-bedroom apartment near Downtown Monterey.

I crash-landed on my bed as soon as I saw it, and passed out for Heaven knows how long. I lost my sense of time, and had a headache of a mother when I woke up. My flight from Jakarta was not the longest flight I had ever taken, but somehow it was the most tiring.

My new apartment mate advised me to fight the grogginess by going out to enjoy the sun. I obliged and strolled around the neighborhood, taking in the local scene and getting my bearing. The native were sure to welcome the newest member of the community, as an overeager pigeon unloaded its dump on my shaven head. Talking about Californian charm!

At first glance, Monterey was a small city with warm weather and pleasant ambiance. Due to the number of educational institutions in the city, there were many young students hovering around. Despite the size, it boasted itself as "The Language Capital of the World”, a statement that I’d be sure to verify during my sojourn here.

As my headache receded, my stomach growled and I realized that I had not eaten properly for hours. I went to do my grocery shopping and – being a compulsive shopper as always – ended up buying ingredients I didn’t really know how to concoct. Cooking was never really my talent, and I always managed to stay out of the kitchen.

Fortunately, people back at home had already foreseen this and had thus packed a box of truly Indonesian delight in my suitcase:

Now, it strongly occurred to me that there were one or two vital ingredients lacking on the box. I rummaged through the kitchen set of my apartment and voila! It’s Christmas on September:

A majestic, heaven-sent rice cooker! Hook it up with a sack of good old rice from the local grocery, and there you have it: the true and staple meaning of self-sustainment – Indonesian style! It felt like home already.

A Quarter of Non-Proliferation

2008-09-15T17:30:00.001+07:00

Well…how is THIS for a getaway?

Monterey, a city with a population of 30,000 people or so in California, will be my stomping ground for the next three months.

Hmm, it does seem like a perfect place for someone who plans to spend his one-week holiday watching whales and dolphins. But me, I am sent here to rack my brain and hone my skills in non-proliferation issues. That's right Rambo, move aside. I'm taking over your place as an expert in weapons of mass

Actually, come to think of it, the term ‘a quarter of non-proliferation’ does not exactly exude excitement or a spirit of adventure. Quite the opposite, it somehow insinuates a bleak period of confinement and abstinence. Doesn't it? Or is it just my dirty mind?

At any rate, I always strive for the silver lining. So I’ll be sure to pack my suitcase with a healthy dose of curiosity, a tube of sun-block, and an extra key for my chastity belt. Hey, you never know.

Me and This Confounded Space

2008-09-05T20:47:00.002+07:00

Could somebody - anybody - be caring enough as to tell me why I’m still here, all alone in this confounded cubicle, on a fine Friday evening…?

Oh dear, I don't think I even give a damn anymore. I really need to get away…

A Bootylicious Affair with A Paper Wrapper

2008-09-04T18:26:00.001+07:00

It’s been exactly three weeks since I had my last cigarette.

No one ever promised anyone that quitting smoking would be easy, but somehow it was easier than I thought. Much to my wonder, all I need hitherto is my willpower. Well, that and a sore throat, reeking shirt, yellow teeth and tiny holes on my pants. Yeah, those should be good enough reasons for me to start chewing blueberry-mint-flavored chewing gum instead.

‘Course, so far I have managed to survive only three consecutive nicotine-free weekends. Negligible, to consider that I have been taking drags for 15 years. Wait, that’s...more than 700 weekends of smoking, and with my one-pack-a-day dose, amounts to...err...cough! cough!...lots of cigarette butts.

Well, it’s been nice knowing your butt, Miss Nicotine. But I hope we won’t cross each other’s path all over again.

A Bundle of Joy

2008-07-02T18:57:00.006+07:00

A baby is an angel whose wings decrease as her legs increase. Meet my pink-faced niece as she tries tongue-bitingly to take off. Off you go, little one.

Turning Thirty

2008-06-02T19:21:00.006+07:00

The club of thirty-something is so overrated.

I didn't get a decent candle for my cake, let alone a posh membership card. Only another year to ponder, another bone grows weary.

And another blessing to count.

Z’s-Inciting Flicks with Fat Budgets

2008-05-26T17:52:00.001+07:00

Well, that was refreshing.

I almost felt asleep in a theater watching The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. The title “The Lullaby of Narnia: Sleeping Caspian” would have been more fitting.

I confessed my mistake of not watching the first Narnia movie and ended up wondering who or what the hell Aslan was. I first made an uneducated guess that Aslan was a majestic-looking, authority-exuding monarch or wizard with a heavy staff, striking fear into enemies’ hearts and inspiring faith on allies’.

Boy, I was only half correct.

He was majestic alright, but he didn’t sport any staff. Not any that was visible to the eye, at least. Aslan was a lion?? Forgive my ignorance, but hey, great sequel movies didn’t call for a mandatory watching of the first. Take Godfather 2, Terminator 2, The Two Towers, or Basic Instinct 2 as examples. Well, the last-mentioned movie was an exception, but surely you get the picture.

It was the second time in a row that my eyelids drooped in front of a silver screen. The first was Speed Racer, a supposedly high-speed racing flick featuring slick, high-tech cars with outrageous driving. Not so, in my humble opinion. The actors talked too much when they should have concentrated more on driving, and got me asleep at the wheel. Don’t talk and drive!

Preposterous to think that I spend my hard-earned money to see such below-expectation shows.

SCANDALOUS!

A robbery!

Money-thieving scheme!

Yeah!

Well…

Hmm…

Zzzz Zzzz Zzz…

Off-the-cuff Quote of the day

2008-05-19T22:26:00.001+07:00

"I was afraid of failing, now I’m afraid of succeeding."

-White stupid man, when asked about his chances of finally getting rid of his notorious, longstanding celibacy.-

Your Sins Will Catch Up With You

2008-05-16T23:48:00.001+07:00

Now I’m terribly sure that I have heard this foreboding expression on a recent occasion. Was it a Bible verse, a movie, a book, or a soothsaying buddy?

I think it’s from that British movie “Dead Man’s Shoes” that I watched some time ago. A solid movie, but I am to write of the sins, not the flick.

Some of my old vices are surely catching up with me. And it comes on the form of a seasoned and persistent hag in a white robe. With a literal sleight of hand, she made me committed an all too familiar sin at a time when I didn’t want to.

It’s odd and it comes with a heavy price. I feel satiated, sad, enraged, and manipulated at the same time. I left the hag with a sunken feeling and cursed her over and over, while deep in my heart, I know that I am to curse myself.

Gotta run faster...

Second Encounter: Amusing Ignorance and Brazenness in the Big Apple

2008-05-11T21:55:00.001+07:00

My visit in April found New York City at her best mood. The sun was shining graciously, the temperature was perfect, and the wind was blowing softly on my hair. A fine day, as aptly summoned up by an old man standing on the roadside when he audibly mumbled, “You just gotta love Manhattan in summer.” An opinion that I fully shared, and I chuckled wholeheartedly.

Alas, as with my previous, I was in NY for a business trip. The UNSC was holding yet another debate and my times in the Big Apple were mostly confined to chambers; both referred to my bedchamber and THE Chamber. I managed to have my fair share of sunlight though, not to say perspiration, of running back and forth between the Mission and the UN.

The Pope was in New York, too. His visit to NY was heavily covered in every newspapers and TV channels to make sure everybody was aware of it. With the exception of, as it turned out, the good people of the UK. They were unaware of the Papal visit, and unwittingly scheduled the visit of Gordon Brown at the same time as the Pope’s. Some papers made fun of it, and one printed a particularly catching headline:

"The Pope is in the Big Apple."
"And so is the British Prime Minister."

As the PM made the most of his visit by meeting Obama, Clinton, and McCain, I made the most of mine by watching late night TV programs. It wasn’t long though, before I got really annoyed by incessant commercials of black-suited lawyers playing Good Samaritan with their unnatural white teeth and offering legal counsel to unfortunate people recently involved in accidents. Be they work-related accidents; accidents due to poor public facilities; due to negligence by others; or simple you-should-have-known-better accidents, a horde of lawyers stood ready to sue anyone of your choice. Types of accidents covered knew no boundaries that a wild idea occurred to me to sue the lawyers themselves as I almost cracked my jaw laughing out loud at their shamelessness.

Well, I knew better. I didn’t cherish the idea of a neighbor suing me for his disturbed sleep over my boisterous laughter, so I turned off the telly and pulled my blanket. And so it was, a day in life that sometimes could be so full of amusing things, and I chuckled wholeheartedly.

The Songs of Wings

2008-05-10T18:30:00.002+07:00

I’m a man of songs, as my karaoke-singing buddies would reluctantly attest. And these days, two songs in particular keep playing in my head. I would sing them over and over at heart, and feel mystified by the power of the lyrics.

The first is Jimi Hendrix’s iconic Little Wing:

Well she's walking, through the clouds
With a circus mind that's running wild
Butterflies and zebras
And moonbeams, and fairy tales
That's all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind
When I'm sad she comes to me
With a thousand smiles she gives to me free
It's all right she said, it's all right
Take anything you want from me
Anything

Fly on Little Wing
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Little Wing

The second is Westlife’s pop Flying Without Wings:

So impossible as they may seem
You've got to fight for every dream
'Cause who's to know
Which one you let go
Would have made you complete

Well, for me it's waking up beside you
To watch the sunrise on your face
To know that I can say I love you
In any given time or place
It's little things that only I know
Those are the things that make you mine

And it's like flying without wings
'Cause you're my special thing
I'm flying without wings

I tell you, it is not a coincidence that both songs have the elements of “wings” on them. Angelic things in life can really make you ‘fly’ without wings, but ‘wings’ do not always get you flying, as Icarus (not my karaoke buddy) would reluctantly attest.

Dear Grandma

2008-05-02T23:26:00.001+07:00

Dear Grandma,

I dreamt of you today.

In my dream, you exclaimed with joy and had that childish but toothless grin when you saw me. How I miss your smile…

You were hugging me, and your first words were “You are alive!” What an odd thing to hear from you, Grandma.

I staggered on my knees and stammered as I returned your embrace. I glanced above your bony shoulder and realized that we were in a room littered with boys’ toys. Were they mine?

I picked up an old photo album from the floor and started to show you the pictures inside. I wanted to explain why I felt odd to see you. I wanted to show you your last picture, where you had an eternal smile etched on your face but everyone else was crying.

Instead, I found pictures of me from the past. Old pictures of myself when I was still young and naïve, and pictures of me when I grew older and still naïve. You flipped through them, smiled affectionately at most and knowingly at few.

I was happy and I could tell that you were, too. But the pictures came to an end, and so did you. You were gone, and I was left standing in a dark room, clutching an old photo album.

I woke up, and tears rolled down on my cheeks. These were ones of sadness, happiness, and apology. How real surreal things could be. And how odd it was when the dead had to come to comfort the living.

A Killing Field in Burma

2008-01-30T17:03:00.001+07:00

Picking up where I left off, Burma has become the center of attention again. Only this time, it’s on the silver screen with the launching of Rambo IV: Rambo.

I went to the movie harboring no great expectations, only a mood for nostalgia. I am part of the generation that grew up fixated in front of the TV screen (and VCR), watching the half-naked, M60-wielding killing machine that was Rambo. His name had become an eponym for heroism by means of extreme violence against overwhelming number of adversaries, or downright foolish murderous rampage. Along with the persona, his killing tools also gained immortality, like the notorious expression “Rambo Knifes” which people had used back then to dub any wickedly sharp or big knife.

This time around, the only man on earth capable to turn anything into “weapons of mass destruction” packs his faithful longbow and a large heavy blade with a thick spine. I could not tell for sure, but I believe the latter was the weapon he used in the movie to relieve Major Tint - the main antagonist - from his chronic constipation. J. Rambo also used his bare hands to rip off the throat of an unlucky rapist-to-be, and borrowed the Burmese 50 cal machine gun to give them a taste of their own medicine. Overall, his choice of weapons tends to be cruder in this supposedly last Rambo installment.

Rambo IV is also the most intense Rambo movie, as far as I can remember. It holds the record with the most kills out of the entire Rambo series, with 236 kills and an average of 2.59 kills per minute. Check out this Rambo kill chart if you feel like having a good laugh. The violence in the movie was very graphic, but what I found more disturbing was a guy sitting behind me who laughed hysterically every time J. Rambo embarked on yet another brutal frenzy. I don't know why, maybe he got his kicks seeing blood and was having an orgasm, or he just found the movie outrageously hilarious.

I have no idea whether the Burmese will appreciate watching this movie with so many Burmese body counts - if they ever get the chance to see it at all, that is. In any case, Sly had the decency to keep his shirt on throughout the movie. Maybe he didn’t want his aging muscles to be seen, or maybe it’s just the mosquitoes. Bites me.

Crimson Courage

2007-09-28T00:37:00.001+07:00

In support of our incredibly brave friends in Burma, may all people around the world wear a red shirt on Friday, 28 September 2007...

NYC: Close Encounter of the Second Kind

2007-09-25T19:25:00.001+07:00

Like thousands other people from around the world at this time of the year, I was in New York for the United Nations General Assembly. As usual, world leaders flocked to the city to share their views on everything and nothing at the same time. The security was omnipresent, roadblocks were set up around the UN complex, and helicopters were hovering above the East River.

Although my interactions in the UN complex were for the most part confined to the basement, I was thrilled by being in an indeed multi-cultural environment; mingled in a crowd buzzing with numerous languages I did not decipher but found fascinating nonetheless. In the middle of that Babel-basement cacophony, I recalled that the seventeenth century New York was inhabited by a population below one thousand speaking eighteen separate languages.

As the city where the UN Headquarter sits, New York had its abundant share of quagmires when it came down to welcoming leaders who were not particularly liked by the US Government (or People). This year’s firebrand was not a fresh contender, as the Iranian President continued his 3-year ritual on visiting New York for the UNGA. This time, however, he had a new agenda: delivering a speech at the prestigious Columbia University.

New Yorkers soon found themselves in a new dilemma: whether or not they should let Ahmadinejad say what he had to say in the name of free speech. As it turned out, the President was personally invited by the university president, and eventually delivered his speech in front of a full-packed crowd. From what I read about the event, there were two quotes which were of great interest to me:

“Mr. President, you exhibit all the signs of a petty and cruel dictator.”
(President of Columbia University, on introducing the controversial guest speaker to the audience)

“In Iran, we don't have homosexuals like in your country.”
(President of Iran, on responding to allegations that homosexuals are being persecuted in Iran)

The President (the latter, mind you) surely knew how to pull strings, even in a hostile environment. He stirred the water further when he reportedly asked NYC administration for a permission to visit Ground Zero. The request was flatly denied by NY Administration, and solidly backed up by the Secretary of State who claimed, “It would have been a travesty for Ahmadinejad to visit Ground Zero."

Travesty or not, it was a great shame that he missed the 50% sale on Century 21 nearby.

NYC: Close Encounter of the First Kind

2007-09-22T18:50:00.001+07:00

Yeah! I’m in New York, baby!!

I once read that life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the places and moments that take our breath away. Such was the feeling when I had my first glimpse of the Big Apple.

As my plane descended steadily from one of the world's longest non-stop flight routes, I peered through my window and indulged my 19-hour-flight-weary eyes on the vast expanse of lights that is New York at night. The glittering sea was glorious, albeit devoid of its arresting close-ups which heretofore was unbeknownst to me.

This was my first time in NYC, and the city looked pretty much as it has been depicted, thus immortalized, by countless Hollywood blockbusters. I could feel the vibrant energy hanging in the air the moment I stepped out of the airport, and at once reminisced of something my colleague had said about being a single in New York [grinned].

I was arriving on a weekend, but the streets in Manhattan were literally bustling with life and horns were blaring everywhere, the numerous “Don’t Honk” signs on the curb notwithstanding. Sirens howling, and judging by the frequency of encountering NY famous firefighters zooming with their beacons on, you would think that fire accidents were common to New York as ignorance to Jakarta.

All in all, I’m absolutely positively sans doute sure that I’m gonna have one helluva time here…

Tragic Comic

2007-08-22T17:11:00.001+07:00

I thought time heals. I thought time makes you forget...

Then why everything else went fuzzy the moment I saw her glossy smile?

I guess even after all this time, I'm still the same ol' hapless romantic, st-t-tuttering p-poet, and a tragic comic.

A Diplomatic Paradox

2007-08-19T15:02:00.001+07:00

What is a diplomat?

According to my Widyaiswara*, a diplomat is someone sent abroad to lie for his/her country.

Needless to say, that was not the politically-correct version. But I’m not going to mull or argue on the definitive term.

In my not-so-humble opinion, here in Indonesia a profession of diplomat has its own, unique definition. In a nutshell, a diplomat is someone who leads a double life in terms of lifestyle and bank saving.

When you’re currently posted at home (that is to say when your status being a PNS/government employee), you struggle to make ends meet with your below-par and ridiculous salary (and 70% budget cut). Even people who drive public transportation for a living (read: busway drivers) earn more salary than you [no offense]. Pathetic that may sounds, that’s the way it is and you need to adapt. To adapt here does not signify or justify any act of fraud. I despise people who commit such thing in the name of their hardship. Every option you take has its own consequences, and you should lie on your own bed. To adapt here does mean that you have to adjust your lifestyle to your paycheck. Of course, it goes without saying with your bank account, too.

Now for the sunny side: when an Indonesian diplomat is posted abroad, he/she leads almost entirely a different life. Fat pa¥ch€¢k$ are guaranteed every month, with many much-welcomed benefits. He/she gets to drive fancy cars (could get away with traffic misdemeanor, sometimes), doesn’t pay taxes, and lives in white-picket fences houses. What’s best, especially for men, being posted abroad provides an excellent reason to skip the monthly compulsory visit to your parents-in-laws.

Obviously, I’m taking things to the extreme. But polarization is sometimes necessary to drive your point home. Talking about home, there’s a local joke in my office about which place is the hardest post. Hardship post is a term used for posting places with not-so-convenient conditions, be them high crime rates, exorbitant price index, or simply dearth of water next to your toilet. Well, it is an accord that “home” is definitely the hardest post. Maybe that explains why I never find any mat emblazoned with the traditional saying “Home Sweet Home”, here in my office.

Having said all the above, it all eventually comes down to making your choices and accepting the consequences. I guess I can finally understand what that Englishman with funny hair really meant when he said “To be or not to be”.

[Disclaimer: This post is drafted, written, and posted by my evil twin a.k.a. BFSR* without my knowledge and consent. He owns his own oil company, earns thousand times more than I do, never pays his taxes, cheats on every woman he encounters, and is incredibly good-looking. If you feel like meeting him, leave your comment here, and I surely will pass it on to him next time we meet in our annual family reunion. ]

Glossary:

* Widyaiswara: a formal term for government employees who teach/lecture in governmental educational and training center

* BFSR: Big Filthy Stinking Rich

An Indonesian, Two Thais, and A Papua New Guinean

2007-08-16T19:17:00.002+07:00

I didn’t ask to be born an Indonesian. But I didn’t ask to be born any other national, either. It just happened that I was born from a womb of an Indonesian woman, sired by an Indonesian man, and shed my first teardrop onto Indonesian soil.

Being an Indonesian, I’m acutely aware that I don’t have many things to be proud of. I’m not going to further depress you all by going through an exhaustive list of "Why I am not proud to be an Indonesian", but let me share you a story that happened almost two years ago.

I was doing some sightseeing in Pattaya Park Tower Observation Deck, the tallest building in Pattaya back then, I believed. The sun was shining and the wind was gentle. I was indulging myself by gazing at the beauty of the Jomtien Beach, when the corner of my eyes spotted another homemade beauty: two cute girls with Thai complexion, all smiles and giggles while arguing whether or not they have the courage to board the Tower Jump and slide down 170 meters to the ground.

I hovered in the vicinity, made my move, and casually said hello. To make a long story short (not to I imply that I needed lots of time to woo the girls, mind you), here how the conversation went:

Girl 1: So what’s your name again?
Casanova in-the-making: It’s [censored]
Girl 2: You come here alone?
Casanova in-the-making: Yeah, but now I’m not alone anymore. [Grin]
Girl 1 + Girl 2: [Giggling]
Casanova in-the-making: [Smile nonchalantly]
Girl 2: Where are you from, [censored]?
Casanova: Whoa, and I was supposed to be the aggressive party here! Guess where I come from? [with air of self-assurance]
Girl 2: I know I know, you must be a Malaysian!
Casanova: Wrong…[Laugh], but you’re almost right about the region. Give it another try.
Girl 1: Phillippines?
Disappointed Casanova: [Dismayed] Not even close. Come on, there are not so many possibilities.
Girl 2: Singapore?
Disappointed Casanova: Noo!
Girl 2: Brunei? Cambodia? Laos?
Vexed Casanova: [Annoyed] No, no. Come on, you girls surely could do better than that. I’m not from Mars, you know. [And you surely are not from Venus, mes petites]
Girl 1: [Frowning] I could not think of any other country.
Girl 2: I give up. Why don’t you just tell us?
Confessing Cassanova: [Dumbfounded] Mmm..yeah..I’m from Indonesia
Girl 1: Indonesia? [With why-I-didn't-think-of-that look]
Girl 2: Oh I know that. It’s near Malaysia, right!
Former Casanova: [Rapidly losing interest] Yeah, that’s where I come from. [Awkward silence] So, you two going to jump or what?
Girl 2: I almost forgot about that. Well, I guess we will. And you?
Mortal human: Not me, I’m too old for that. You two go ahead. Have fun, okay?
Girl 2: Okay…bye!
A sullen Indonesian: Byee…

[Disclaimer: Some lines in the conversation above have been exaggerated, as usual. Try copycating my Casanova technique, and you’ll find out that the Tower Jump is not the fastest way to hit the ground.]

Having found out that my great country was not as great as I thought, I board the elevator and took my leave with a disturbed feeling. I kept telling myself that those girls needed to plug themselves into this so-called wired world, or maybe they were in dire need of a mental defibrillation to cure their ignorance. Still, I could not help but feeling sorry for my country for its lack of image and share of mind.

Ah well, ‘tis the inescapable reality and I guess we Indonesians have only ourselves to blame. Actually, I’d almost forgotten about the incident ‘till I read the news about a Papua New Guinean who wrote a song for the aforementioned Forgotten Land. Bewilderment and reminiscence got the best of me as I ponder about two foreigners who hardly knew my country, another foreigner who managed to write a song for it, and yours truly who didn't even have time to sing his own national anthem.

I’ll rest my case there, and for now just let me wish my fellow countrymen/women a Happy Independence Day. May the future be brighter for all of us and may I never write such a patriotism-induced post like this again.

A Fateful Day

2007-07-28T19:29:00.001+07:00

24^th of July was one of the worst days in my heretofore sunny life. My misfortune had it roots in the preceding day, the 23^rd. As usual, I was the last creature to leave the office and I decided to work up a little on my lung capacity at the office gym. 2 hours later, drained and starving, I hurriedly left the office and headed straight to the nearest eating place to treat myself a hefty dinner. Afterwards, I went home, sated and drowsy.

The next morning, I woke up to relentless ringing of my phone. I glanced at my watch with my still half-sewn eyes, and discovered it was 8 in the morning. Who in the world would call me persistently at 8 A.M.? Mind you, my bio clock has smoothly adapted to my job as a government slave, err…employee, and daily business did not usually kick-start before 9 A.M. To my dismay, I uncovered more than 30 missed calls on my log and 10 messages. They were sent by the people in my office, demanding my whereabouts. Then I read the enlightening sentence: The night before, I had forgotten to return the office keys to security, and now no one could enter the office, including my boss who apparently had been waiting impatiently for my homecoming from Oh La La Land.

I jumped to my feet, scrambled for my glasses, frantically grabbed any clothes within reach and ran to my car. No bathroom karaoke session this morning, vraiment désolé. The traffic was somewhat light, and I managed to reach the office by 8.45, only to find my boss sitting sulkily at the office stairs like some rejected door salesmen. My my, I didn’t even have the courage to put on an apologetic smile.

My boss did not utter any reproach, he just stared at me and mumbled some unintelligible words. Maybe sitting on the stairs for almost an hour was too much for him. In any case, I was grateful for getting away with my negligence. If I had been working for a private company instead of a government agency, surely my ass would have been fired faster than I can say “Ouch”.

Overnight Critic

2007-07-22T15:05:00.001+07:00

Having abused the DVD-ROM in my ancient laptop to watch DVDs all night long, I felt like pretending to be a movie critic. Here it goes, the list of of the films. Pirated? Guilty as charged.

A Scanner Darkly

Casts: K. Reeves, R. Downey Jr., W. Harrelson, W. Ryder

What it says:

The movie is set in suburban Orange County, California in the future. It imagines a paranoid world in which it seems 2 of every 10 Americans have been hired by the government to spy on the other 8, in the name of national security and drug enforcement. (Hmm..are they sure the movie is set on the future?) When one reluctant government recruit (Reeves) is ordered to start spying on his friends, he is launched on a journey into the absurd, where outsourced government contractors largely define the social construct, where identities and loyalties are impossible to decode, and where not even his girlfriend can be trusted (this is not new, I guess). The film highlights the inconsistencies and ironic consequences of the war on drugs.

What I think:

The visual of the film is an eye candy, and the plot is a lullaby. The concoction of the two was potent enough to put any viewer into slumber. Zzz zzz zzz...

Irréversible

Casts: M. Belucci, V. Cassel, A. Dupontel

What it says:

Alex (Belucci) and Marcus (Cassel) are a couple whose story is told over the course of a fateful day. The tumultuous odyssey begins with brutal killing, and unspools in reverse to reveal the horrifying events that lead to the gut-wrenching, violent climax of the opening scene.

What I think:

Rarely did I see a movie with such a provocative display, evocative plot, and lingering aftertaste (of course, I'm just pretending to be a movie critic). The two infamous scenes had contrasting effects on me. The one with the fire extinguisher forced me to focus my eyes on the corner of the screen. The violence was such that I couldn’t bear watching, but didn’t want to look away. The one with the knife got me riveted and numb. The intensity was such that I didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t bear looking away. If you are planning to enrich your French (expletive) vocabulary, this one will make a great manual.

Moral: Girls, never walk home alone at night. Find the most suitable (and eligible) guy in the proximity to accompany you. [Grin...]

Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

Casts: S. Baron Cohen

Kazakh journalist Borat Sagdiyev (Cohen) embarks on a journey across America to make a documentary. As he zigzags across the nation, Borat meets real people in real situations with hysterical consequences. His backward behavior generates strong reactions around him, exposing prejudices and hypocrisies in American culture.

What I think:

Light and entertaining, I laughed politely here and there to several politically-incorrect mockeries. I didn’t expect much despite its nomination at the 79th Academy Awards for Best Adapted Screenplay, and the movie befitted. It was a welcomed change of mood, though, especially after watching Irréversible.

Babel

Casts: B. Pitt, C.Blanchatt, M. Akhzam, G. Garcia Bernal, K. Yakusho

What it says:

A rifle shot echoes through the rugged, mountainous terrain of Morocco, and the lives of four separate groups of strangers on three different continents collide: a vacationing American couple; a rebellious deaf Japanese teenager and her father; a Mexican nanny who, without permission, takes two American children across the border; and two Moroccan shepherd boys. But none of these strangers will ever meet one another.

What I think:

I wonder how Pitt manages to look good in any role/hairdo/clothes/no-clothes in any movies. Second thought, I don’t think I want to know.

I’d been looking forward to seeing Babel from the time it was played in the Jakarta Film Festival few months ago, but I failed to secure a seat. So I settled for a low quality, bootlegged DVD. Not exactly politically-correct, but one needs to adapt.

The movie offered something novel, and I particularly enjoyed the use of four different languages: English, Spanish, Arabic, and Japanese. One note about the Japanese, Yakusho’s acting performance as a deaf girl earned her an Academy Award nomination for Best Female Supporting Act, the first for any Japanese actor/actress. Some movie critics claimed that Babel should have won the Best Picture instead of The Departed, but I’m not going to argue on that. I recommend the movie.

Moral: Kids, don't play with guns.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

Casts: R. Downey Jr., V. Kilmer

What it says: Harry Lockhart (Downey Jr.) is basically a decent guy. Sure, he’s a petty thief who skates through life on a shaky cocktail of dog-eared charm and cockeyed optimism, but he wants to do the right thing. He just doesn’t know how, exactly. Harry’s perpetual bad luck takes a turn for the better when he and his partner are doing some after-hours Christmas “shopping” at a NYC toy store and the security alarm breaks up the party.

What I think:

The security alarm starts up another party, involving Kilmer (Gay Perry, a private-eye who is..well..gay) and Michelle Monaghan (Harmony Lane, Harry’s high-school heartthrob. The One Who Got Away? ^_^). Despite the title's resemblance to my own bitter experience, I don't have any strong opinion about the movie.

The Good Shepherd

Casts: M. Damon, A. Jolie, R. De Niro

Edward Wilson, the only witness to his father’s suicide and member of the Skull and Bones Society while a student at Yale, is a morally upright young man who values honor and discretion, qualities that help him to be recruited for a career in the newly founded Central Intelligence Agency. While working there, his ideals gradually turn to suspicion influenced by the Cold War paranoia present within the office. Eventually, he becomes an influential veteran operative, while his distrust of everyone around him increases to no end. His dedication to his work does not come without a price though, leading him to sacrifice his ideals and eventually his family.

What I think:

I would enjoy any movie featuring Angelina Jolie. Or Damon. Or De Niro (He is the director, by the way. The Good Shepherd is De Niro's second directorial undertaking after A Bronx Tale, which I also enjoyed very much).

Moral: Family first, career second. Mmm, or is it the other way around?

Underworld: Evolution

Casts: K. Beckinsale, S. Speedman

What it says:

The saga of war continues between the Death Dealers (vampires) and the Lycans (werewolves). The film traces the beginnings of the ancient feud between the two tribes as Selene (Beckinsale) and Michael (Speedman), the lycan hybrid, try to discover the secrets of their bloodlines. All of this takes them into the battle to end all wars as the immortals must finally face their retribution.

What I think:

Cool, dark and entertaining. It’s a blend of brutal limb-shredding, fast-paced action; immaculate lovemaking; and straightforward plot. Kate Beckinsale is indeed the most beautiful vampire, conveniently beating Ryder in Bram Stoker's Dracula.

Moral: Sunlight doesn't only cause cancer. It burns, too.

Homecoming

2007-07-09T16:15:00.001+07:00

As the plane touched down on Polonia's tarmac, I let out a sigh of relief. The trip was not at all convenient with all the unnerving jolts and bumps. I was concerned to think that in spite of my personal accumulating mileage, in the not-so-distant future I might have to be drugged before even contemplating putting my ass down on that supposedly safest-means-of-travel-known-to-man.

The aforementioned apparatus taxied, and telltale tones of Nokia phones being prematurely switched on were audible everywhere. It is my strong opinion that there should be more stringent laws stipulating penalties for the mentally-challenged with mobile phones. This statement might not sound very politically-correct, but I am easily annoyed to see people talking exuberantly INSIDE an airplane, as though they could not live without their phones for mere hours.

If what Roy M. Goodman said were true, that happiness is a way of travel – not a destination; then I stepped out of the former into the latter being an unhappy man. I proceeded into the main airport building with a lingering aerotitus and was immediately charged by a throng of porters fighting for my insignificant shoulder bag. I repelled the nuisance by switching into my old hometown persona: I glowered, snarled, and shoved. Homecoming was supposed to be a pleasant experience, but 1-hour take-off delay in Jakarta managed to ruin my mood. And to think that I spent a bulk of my ridiculous government salary on this particular airline for its comparative punctuality! As much as I hate to admit it, the recent ban by EU on Indonesia’s airlines seemed justified at that very moment. To add to my list of grudges, the airport was as dismal as I’d remembered it, regardless of the recent news that it had been chosen as one of the best airports in the country.

Anyway, I left my grievances at the landing strip, and reminded myself that I was coming home for a good reason. My youngest sister was getting married, and it turned out that almost 1500 guests (rough headcount) swarmed the wedding party. As I shook hands here and there, vague recollection of faces and forgotten names were rushing through my head. Also, as the wedding render me the only one in the family not brandishing a ring; the handshakes were inevitably supplemented by polite/impolite/downright annoying questions of kapan nyusul?

No matter, though. A family gathering was always something to cherish about, and a broad smile was etched on my face as I buckled up en route back to the capital three days later. At the end of trip, I think I’d settle for George Burns’ version of happiness: it is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.

Félicitations, ma p'tite…

Familiarity is Security? Not!

2007-06-26T22:24:00.001+07:00

Never thought that I'd miss my messy desk at the office.
Funny how you yearn for all the dull routines when you're on new grounds.

-Crb, 26 June 2007-

Fantastic 25

2007-06-15T20:40:00.001+07:00

Jessica Alba is back!

Unfortunately, she’s decided to tie the knot and the lucky groom is Mr. Fantastic. Not bad for a geek.
I went to see the Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer with a bunch of friends. Actually, ‘a bunch’ was thoroughly an understatement; ‘a mob’ was more appropriate. There were 25 of us, all were eager to see Alba in tight. Well, maybe that last statement applied to me only.

Anyway, armed with popcorns, peanuts, fries, and all sorts of sugar-spiked liquid, we conquered a quarter of the available breathing space in the studio. Pandemonium almost ensued when some of the guys started hurling popcorns at each other, but hard, disapproving stares from people around gave us a harsh reminder that we were grown-ups albeit in a crowded room gaping at some comic superheroes.

The movie was okay, and I am not going to dwell on the plot. The bottom line, I was thrilled as we were breaking my personal record for nonton bareng. These days, it’s not easy to assemble a group of friends to have some fun, let alone a throng of self-proclaimed busy narcissists. Afterwards, we made a vow to break the freshly-achieved Fantastic 4 record with Shrek 3, coming soon to theaters unwise enough to admit us.

An Inevitable Course Into Senility

2007-06-02T16:56:00.001+07:00

Happy birthday to me, myself and I.

Until death do us part.

Smitten and Crestfallen (The One that Got Away)

2007-05-29T19:58:00.001+07:00

Did you ever feel like holding something precious within the grasp of your hand…?

It was so precious, yet it was something you'd already taken for granted.

You were filled with hopes and expectations, were eager to fulfill, were ready to be happy. You were trembling with anticipation, trembling, shaking; your hands were shaking…

Stupid fool, didn’t you know that you were holding a handful of sand?

Didn’t you realize that you were gripping too tightly? That you were shaking too fervently, too eager, and thus the sand started slipping down your fingers…slipping away…slipping steadily like in an hourglass without a bottom bulb. Irreversible.

You were frantic. You clutched even tighter, prayed, pleaded, clasped that precious something close to the beat of your heart. Grim realization dawned that they kept slipping away, scattering, and started embracing the passing wind.

Resignedly, you opened up your palm…lingered the sand grain, remnants of memory short-lived. And you wondered, how did you fuck up?

Summary of the Long Weekend

2007-05-21T15:20:00.001+07:00

On the sunny side:

Completed Final Fantasy XII (never managed to obtain the Zodiac Spear, though) and switched to God of War II;

Watched 88 Minutes, Déjà Vu, and rewatched three Big Arnie's old flicks;

Started reading Koontz's Dragon Tears.

On the sticky side, I numbly watched as Drogba ruined our dream of Double. After a rather sluggish, disappointing 50-50 contest for more than 100 minutes or so, I was resigned to a penalty shoot-out to conclude the game. Out of nowhere, a beautifully executed one-two with Lampard allowed Drogba to clip the ball over van der Sar and hence sealed only the fourth FA Cup in Chelsea's history. Couldn't be helped, I guess. I have been procrastinating to post MU's ninth Premiership title to Double the savory victory, but one would have to do.

On to the next season, alors!

Ouch!

2007-05-04T10:43:00.001+07:00

Sh*t happens.

Especially when it rains.

Smitten and Crestfallen (Fly Away)

2007-04-12T10:29:00.002+07:00

I wish that I could fly
Into the sky
So very high
Just like a dragonfly

Id fly above the trees
Over the seas in all degrees
To anywhere I please

Oh I want to get away
I want to fly away
Yeah yeah yeah

Oh I want to get away
I want to fly away
Yeah yeah yeah

Lets go and see the stars
The milky way or even mars
Where it could just be mine

Lets fade into the sun
Let my spirit fly
Where I am just one
Just for a little fun
Oh oh oh yeah !

I want to get away
I want to fly away
Yeah yeah yeah

I got to get away
Feel I got to get away
Oh oh oh yeah

I want to get away
I want to fly away
Oh yeah !

-L. Kravitz-

______________________________________________________
Afterthought:
It ain't fair
That a man walks
When a bird can fly
We have to kick the ground
The stars kiss the sky
They say that spirits live
A man has to die
-JBJ-

The Magnificent Seven

2007-04-11T10:53:00.001+07:00

11' Carrick
17' Smith
19' Rooney
44' Ronaldo
49' Ronaldo
60' Carrick
81' Evra

I won’t spoil the glorious moment by writing unnecessary comments. Savour the sweetness of annihilation, and bring on the Germans, or the Italians, or anyone on this form!

Hái yuăn ma? Bù yuăn!

2007-03-28T02:28:00.001+07:00

Being in Beijing for only a short business trip, I nevertheless stick faithfully to the ancient adage of working hard, playing harder (long live nocturnal attaché!).

The first night, the hotel concierge told me that the hotel was ‘very close’ and within ‘a walking distance’ to the famous Tiananmen Square (and Forbidden City, naturally). Well, I didn’t know whether a) I was so physically unfit that a mere ‘walking distance’ wore me out to a state of panting breath; b) I was duped by the concierge into walking there, so that by the time I got back to the hotel, I would have been in severe need of the exorbitant hotel massage service; or c) the locals had different concept of ‘close’ and ‘walking distance’ (when in China, act like Chinese).

And what’s worse, the Square was closed due to (I think) an official visit by a foreign dignitary. Pfff… I ended up lurking at the gate, trying to find any anglophone who was willing to take a picture of me grinning under the photograph of Mao. No luck.

Second night, I prowled the Wangfujing, looking for mementoes fabriqué en Chine. And there were plenty here and there. I made my first purchase like a good tourist should: no bargain. I learned my lessons quickly, though, and eventually managed to cut down on my price tag to almost 50%. Shopping had rarely been better. =)

Not surprisingly, Beijing streets did not only offer shopping, but detailed program of excursion would not be disclosed here to protect the guilty. My visit did not allow me enough time to get acquainted, but I was pretty sure I’d be seeing the city again. Till then, zàijiàn!

Lessons in Joyful Living

2007-03-21T18:03:00.001+07:00

Enfin! Mon propre guide de la vie écrit par Trixie! Cela va sans dire que je n’ai pas vraiment besoin de critiques cinq-étoiles pour aimer ce livre, c’est simplement magnifique!

Si vous aimez les chiens ou êtes un adorateur de M. Koontz comme moi, vous voulez sans aucun doute trouver une copie. Trixie sait comment vivre jovialement mieux que presque tous les humains.

'Nuff said! Grab your copy now!

Headline of the Day

2007-02-06T19:41:00.002+07:00

Headline of the day: I can’t be held responsible for the flood, as it is a natural phenomenon that re-occurs every five year.

Well, that’s something fresh. I didn’t know that appalling city-planning, disgraceful waste management and meager infrastructure are made in heaven. If that’s the case, I guess the only solution for the flood in Jakarta is up there in the sky.

January 28th, 2007

2007-01-28T23:17:00.001+07:00

I am mystified. Usually, it's the other way around.

Maybe I'm more desperate than I care to admit all this time. Or maybe I'm just being too thrilled for my own damn good.

But it has been a long time since I feel so alive, since I have this ancient feeling of yearning.

Lo and behold, the higher you get, the harder you could fall. Then again, life is about wanting something, and going the extra mile for it. For the thing that electrifies you. To seek and to find. To hope and to fight.

I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way.

Echo of Small Things

2007-01-23T20:04:00.001+07:00

My life for the past two weeks has been battered by days of 12-hour-toil. Well, maybe toil is not the right word, but I am after all the Drama King. The new unit is exactly as I suspected it would be, with longer hours, and more workloads. Some people say bigger paychecks, too, but hitherto the bucks are yet to be seen. LOL…

But hey, sometimes money is not the main issue. And as my nose grows longer, I try to find the small things in life that never fail to lift my mood. The list could be short or exhaustive, depending on the vibes, but in general, I can always take some things for granted:

1. KIS FM Rock Weekend and Wednesday Slow Machine
I couldn’t believe that someone actually never heard of KIS FM. But I console myself by the fact that the culprit is 18 years old, definitely does not match the audience profile of my favorite station. The songs from the station have been faithfully keeping me company, especially on morning traffic jams.

2. Hanging out with my friends
I refuse the notion that it is related in any way to the age issue, but I reckon it’s getting difficult these days to find the ‘quality time’ to hang out with my friends, as I’m sure many of you will agree. Nonetheless, I always try to end my day with some good laughs with like-minded friends.

3. A drag or two of my A Mild
Not a healthy habit, I concur, but a drag of my cig usually soothes the mind. Maybe because of the ‘light head’ and ‘butterflies’ that always ensue after the first cigarette. I dunno. Will the world ever see nicotine-free cigarettes?

4. Few sessions of Freecell/Playstation
From a simple, rudimentary FreeCell game in my PDA to Rockstar's magnum opus, GTA: San Andreas on PS2, I love 'em all! Old habits die hard.

5. A moment of contemplation...in the john.
Thinking is the best way to travel.

The list goes on…

-Some of it’s magic, some of it’s tragic, but I had a good life all the way - JB (He Went to Paris)

Tour of Duty

2007-01-08T09:37:00.001+07:00

I’ve been abruptly assigned to a new unit, effective immediately. New desk, new faces, new responsibilities. I wonder what lies in store…I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

Reflections and Resolutions

2006-12-31T21:17:00.001+07:00

As the midnight draws nearer, I couldn’t help but reminiscing all the things in 2006. Few are best forgotten, but most are fondly etched in my heart. There are no such things as bad experiences, only hard lessons.

If I measured the passing year with a weighing scale that had ‘failure’ plate on the left, and ‘achievement’ plate on the right, I could say that, overall, this has been a good year. I’ve had chances to go to new places and meet new faces. My work has been filled with new experience and adorned with a satisfying year-end work assessment from my boss. Surprise, surprise…

As a mere mortal, I inevitably stumbled upon failures and obstacles throughout the year. It’s a good thing that I remember more of the good things than bad ones, as this indicates a positive-thinking attitude, I guess. Thinking back, I only manage to recall one scholarship application that went up in smoke and one romantic request turned down. Nothing catastrophic, I got to keep my single status. LOL… Hey, at least I still have the second best thing in life.

My little sister got married, and it was one of the best things in 2006. My only regret was that I did not specifically express my wish when she asked what I’d wanted for her wedding, and ended up with a traditional knife and a piece of ulos.

On the grimmer note, there was some reality shock that gave me harsh reminders of mortality. A friend of mine died, and my father went through a cardiac surgery. Not pleasant memories, but everything happened for a reason.

Resolutions for 2007? There are many, as I am an ambitious person with the Grand Plan. Practically and realistically speaking, here are some things:

1. Getting my car to the garage and having it "remodeled". This is top priority, as my beloved car is making new, mysterious noise every week. 2006 has been - almost- a mechanical breakdown-free period, but I don't want to push my luck.

2. Finding a new place to live, where I can go home at any ungodly hour as I damn please.

3. Avoiding in every way possible to be reappointed as "Seksi Keamanan" or given the role of a drug-induced bouncer in Christmas play/celebration. Not good, might expel me from Santa's list. Moreover, I don't endorse violence, especially not on le plus beau des jours de l’année.

4. Retrieving the willpower to get up early every Saturday morning for my French lesson. My French did not progress significantly last year, and it might eventually ruin my next lesson: learning Spanish. On with the Grand Plan!

The ultimate resolution for 2007 would be getting myself en route towards adding three-letter label behind my name, with a major that is relevant to my current line of work. And, bien sûr, to tip my scale a little bit further to the right.

Happy new year, everyone! I hope your 2006 has been as good as mine, and may your 2007 be even better.

Le Plus Beau des Jours de L’Année

2006-12-25T10:54:00.001+07:00

Noël est là! Ce joyeux Noël, des cadeaux plein les bras, qui réchauffe nos cœurs et apporte la joie, jour des plus beaux souvenirs, plus beau jour de l'année. -W.I.-

Joyeux Noël, tout le monde!

Happy Commuting in Jakarta

2006-12-15T17:47:00.001+07:00

As recent as 1 month ago, I was still one of very few people in Jakarta who were blessed with convenient commuting. It usually took me 15 minutes – 20 minutes tops – in the morning to get from my place to the office, encountering only one traffic light. At night, I even got to choose from 2 alternatives: step on the pedal and speed through the deserted roads, or roll my window down and cruising lazily, puffing a cigarette. Eventually, either way will kill me, I guess. LOL.

How the good ol’ days are missed.

These days, I have to hustle and bustle for more than 45 minutes throughout the heavily packed roads, cursing other drivers with disturbing animosity and pounding incessantly on the horn to gain way.

It’s a good thing that nowadays motorcyclists are obliged to switch on their lights during daytime, as they are easier to spot in the rearview and side mirrors. Nonetheless, there were times when I felt an urging desire to hit a reckless motorcyclist on the face just for the heck of it. People, you are not immortal. And I don't have an insurance.

What amazes me even more; there are neither road works nor problems that could serve as bottlenecks. It just seems that more and more cars are pouring into less and less roads, and there will come a day when walking gets you somewhere faster than driving.

Until then, I wish everybody a happy commuting!

Until I Suffer Some

2006-12-08T17:56:00.001+07:00

What is the most precious yet all-pervading?
What is the most selfish yet giving?
What is the most intoxicating yet humbling?
What is it that we all are searching?

To think that it is never impossible
To think that it endures
To constantly seek the love of someone
To be acquainted with, to be captivated
To venture, to enter
To persevere, to hope

The other half is a destiny
The reunion is a journey
My foresight is not the paramount
The courage is the jewel of the crown

I don't know know where I'm going
But I'm on my way..

American Pie

2006-12-06T18:40:00.001+07:00

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

But february made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.

I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

So bye-bye, miss american pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock ’n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you’re in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.

I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.

I started singin’,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
But that’s not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from james dean
And a voice that came from you and me,

Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
And while lennon read a book of marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.

We were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?

We started singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil’s only friend.

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that satan’s spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

He was singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before,
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play.

And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.

And they were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

They were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."

-Don McLean-

Backbreaking Slumber

2006-11-16T17:56:00.001+07:00

Much to my despair, I recently found out that there existed the term “backbreaking slumber”; pun intended. Every morning for the last few weeks or so, I have been waking up with an excruciating pain on my back.

Being a person with vivid imagination enriched by fairy tales from childhood, it crossed my mind to check under the mattress for the notorious pea. Unfortunately, I only managed to encounter some innocent-looking bed bugs, which unlikely were the culprit of my distress.

Of course, this would not serve as a plausible reason on my being late almost everyday to the office. I am not much of an early riser, and my visions are better at night. Having said that, I am really worried about this unexplainable pain.

Maybe I ought to have some exercise, like my folks always tell me to do. Maybe I should cut down on those delicious, mouth-watering red meat and seafood. Maybe I need to see a physiotherapist. Maybe I have a hidden, malicious, alien manifestation on my spinal tap. Or maybe I just need to buy new mattress and pillows.

Rainbow Bridge

2006-11-09T20:16:00.001+07:00

Just this side of Heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they each miss someone very special, someone who was left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. Her bright eyes are intent; her eager body begins to quiver. Suddenly, she breaks from the group, flying over the green grass, faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into into those trusting eyes, so long gone from your life, but never absent from your heart. Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together...

-Author Unknown-

Odd Koontz

2006-11-07T23:11:00.001+07:00

As I turned the last page of Koontz’s Forever Odd, an inevitable comparison came to mind. Somehow, as usually the case with a sequel, Forever Odd is a bit less satisfying than Odd Thomas. It is still a good read, though.

A memorable excerpt from the novel: "beauty that steals the heart is often imperfect, suggests grace and kindness, and inspires tenderness more than it incites lust". Hmm, kind of reminds me of someone. =)

I have been reading Koontz for almost 5 years now, with more than 20 titles in collection and still counting. Koontz has an inimitable knack to keep me riveted to his pages, with his rich and smart vocabulary. I also enjoy his witty, sometimes black, sense of humor. Despite the fact that his books are usually placed on “Science Fiction/Thriller/Horror” shelves in major bookstores, reading any of Koontz books never fails to incite an occasional smile or delighted laughter. After all, reading is supposed to be something soothing, not depressing.

In essence, Koontz never fails to deliver because he stays true to the following features:

Koontz is an avid dog lover, and if you are a dog lover yourself, you should see Trixie, his golden retriever. Guaranteed to make you smile. Koontz’s “fatherly love” for dogs is also clearly highlighted in virtually all of his books: the book credits e.g. Forever Odd is dedicated to Trixie, “an angel on four feet”; the feature of canines as the protagonists in many of his books e.g. in Fear Nothing, The Taking, One Door Away from Heaven, and of course, Watchers; and the author’s jacket photograph that often features the grinning Trixie.

Cats, on the other hand, have often fared worse in his novels (I read that Mr. Koontz is allergic to felines). Though cats do appear occasionally, these are usually cameo roles and seldom the protagonists. Perhaps two notable exceptions would be the smart feline Mungojerrie in the Christopher Snow novels and Terrible Chester of the Pico Mundo. Hey, this brings up to mind an old question: What’s the difference between dogs, cats, and pigs? Answer: Dogs look up to you, cats look down on you, and pigs look you in the eyes and treat you as equal.

In addition, no matter how seemingly fantastic the novel begins, Koontz usually, more often than not, attempts to give plausible, logical, and consistent explanations. These elucidations often come in unique genetic traits or natal conditions. I am grateful for his efforts, as I'd hate to find his books on "Fantasy" section.

Koontz also believes in the ideal of that love and compassion can save one life from the apparent absurdities of existence and the cruelties of life. Perhaps Koontz suffers from an enduring naïveté, in which he insists on seeing the world as black and white; good and evil; joys and sorrows; above and below (yet another line from Forever Odd springs up: "ascending to the darkness"). Almost an oxymoron.

His "naïveté" also materializes in a “happy ending” for most of the main characters, which is one of the main reasons for me to keep reading his books. I mean, what's the point of laughing out loud throughout the book and brooding at the end?

The bottom line, I recommend Koontz’s novels if you either are:

- An upholder of dreams and perseverance.
- A naïve who has a strong belief in the eventual triumph of good over evil.
- A novel enthusiast with a taste for a good tale with a happy ending.
- A dog lover who wants to take the daring adventures of Lassie, Rin Tin Tin, or Snowy, to the next level.
- Just idling on a Saturday night and in need of a literary yet entertaining companion.
______________________________________________________

Hope is the destination that we seek.
Love is the road that leads to hope.
Courage is the motor that drives us.
We travel out of darkness into faith.

The Book of Counted Sorrows, as quoted from Intensity.

The Weekend

2006-11-03T18:18:00.001+07:00

Weekend..always brings hopes and dreams. Undying ones. I hope they still linger on Monday morning, with a big smile on my face.

À lundi, tout le monde.

A Not-So Beautiful Mind

2006-11-02T21:06:00.001+07:00

Are you familiar with Game Theory? In rare cases that you are not, click here. Anyway, people have won Nobel Prize for this, people like John Nash. His name might ring a bell from the Academy Award-winning film, A Beautiful Mind.

Say, let’s imagine you’re hanging out at the local bar. Be it in a hip, upscale club or a shady, two-bit joint, the setup is always the same. The women are concentrated towards the center of any location while the men hover eagerly around the periphery, like vultures.

As you may already be aware by now, women don’t go out to the bars alone (or toilets, for that matter). There are always going to be at least 2 or 3 friends along with them. As they settle comfortably around the center, the men will encircle them and slowly come in for the kill. The nature will stipulate that they will prey on the most attractive women in the bar. Like clockwork, there will always be a woman that is clearly more attractive than all of her friends. Each man will make his approach at the attractive female, and one by one, they will all be rejected.

This should come as no surprise, as the most attractive woman is used to any kind of advance you might think of. By chasing the most attractive female, that male has automatically lost out on winning over her friends.

It’s not rocket science. (Though, to understand women, you’ll need much, much, more than rocket science).

Now, Nash states that rational self-interest hurts everyone, and instead, everyone wins through cooperative games. So if you’re out with a couple friends at a bar and you see that one attractive woman hanging around, remember that she has probably been hit on the entire night and already eluded some of the best. Sure we want the most attractive catch, but remember that there is only one of them and many of you. If everyone goes after the one girl, nobody will win because each will attempt to undermine the other. On the contrary, if you decide to go for her friends instead, everyone can come out a winner in the end.

Is that right?

That brings up the questions of the day (and don't worry, they're not about women):

1. How do you define a winner?
2. Will you settle for the number two, (or 3, 4, 5, .. for that matter) when you are just yearning and craving for the number one?

The two questions boil down to your own opinions and perceptions about what are usually taken for granted. Are you winning, when your prize is not the one that you aspire for? Are you feeling victorious, when the spoil you have secured is not the one that was on your dream?

I'll go for the dream every time. Chances are, I will fail more often than I thrive. Failures are failures. Despite what the quotes tell you, they are not deferred triumphs. But then again, how do you define a winner?

I'll share with you when I find the answers.

Disclaimer 1: The movie has been criticized for its inaccurate portrayal of Nash's life and schizophrenia as well as for the over-simplified representation of the famous Nash equilibrium. This was not the point put forth.

Disclaimer 2: Illustration using women in a bar was not meant to stereotype women. No woman was seriously hurt in the writing of this post.

Perseverance is incapacitating

2006-10-31T18:19:00.001+07:00

The longer the wait, the bigger the prize.
The bigger the bait, the longer the lies.

I think I'll go home now.

Trivia of Life

2006-10-30T11:39:00.001+07:00

The holiday’s over, and I’m back on my desk again. It didn’t go quite as I planned, the holiday, as I missed sleep almost every night. Highlights on a sunny side: Rooney scored a hat-trick (what’s that? Rooney can’t score? Ah, you mean Roonaldo? Yes yes, poor fella); a movie about a stoned, bad-tempered hitman going berserk (Oy!); a book on people (talking about trivia of life!); a blind date with a late karaoke session; a reunion with a bunch of old friends; endless hours of WE, from dusk till dawn; and restless sleeps battered by mosquitoes and weird dreams.

One thing about a holiday, you think of nothing and everything at the same time. My little sister’s wedding's coming up, and I’m very happy for her. What’s with all the jokes and banters about me being left behind? I wasn’t aware that we were in a race. Everything’s beautiful on its own time.

On a grimmer tone, a friend of mine died the other day. No premonitions, no warnings, only goodbyes. It was no more than two weeks ago that I played pool with him. It was a small gathering of friends, a send-off to bid farewell and good luck as he was being assigned to another city. Little we knew the real meaning of the farewell. Actually, I didn’t feel like coming as I was worn out from work and was already on my way home. But some friends insisted that I should come and drop by to meet him.

So I came and met him. We played some pool, and I teasingly asked him about marriage, and he laughed. He said, “Whoever gets to score first will let the other know, ok?” I said ok, we shook hands, hugged, promised to stay in touch, and I took my leave.

Two weeks later, I got the news about his demise. I wanted to cry, couldn’t. I wanted to ask why, didn’t want to. Death is unforgiving and nonnegotiable. Life is frail and trivial. But it is the trivia of life that makes the ride worthwhile. So, I said a quiet prayer for him and wished him everything good that he overlooked in this life. I will miss him. He was a friend, a smoking buddy, and a good person. After all, only the good die young.

Time marches on.

Happy Eid El Fitr!

2006-10-20T16:28:00.001+07:00

Last office day before the long holiday of Lebaran! Have a joyous Eid El Fitr, guys..
I am planning to hibernate myself throughout the week..

Champions League Updates

2006-10-19T17:55:00.001+07:00

Highlights from the Champions League Matchday 3:

Chelsea 1 - 0 Barcelona (sh*t happens)
Sporting 0 - 1 Bayern (Ollie's still one of the best goalies around, despite what Lehmann thinks)
Bordeaux 0 - 1 Liverpool (the RoboCrouch did it again!)
Steaua 1 - 4 Real Madrid (the only silver lining was that Ruudje became the third player to score 50 goals in the European Champion Clubs' Cup)
Man United 3 - 0 København (Scholes, O'Shea, and Richardson. Go for the title!)
CSKA Moskva 1 - 0 Arsenal (M. Henry, vous avez vraiment besoin de trouver une nouvelle équipe)

The Departed

2006-10-17T16:40:00.001+07:00

Time : Tuesday, 17 October 2006 16.30
Venue : Corner of the office, behind piles of papers
Ambiance : A lazy, quiet, and dull afternoon

Pff, so it's 4.30 PM, and I'm the only soul here. Besides the janitor, of course. Office life has been sluggish these days.

So yesterday I went to see "The Departed" with a bunch of friends. As usual, I already had with me a scoop of what the critics had to say about the movie. Some quotes: "Scorsese won't be winning any Oscars for this movie, as it's too hard, too pulpy, and too good. A relentlessly violent, breathtakingly assured piece of mean-streets filmmaking, the film shows the legendary director dropping the bids for industry respectability that have preoccupied him over the past decade and doing what he does best: burrow to the agonized heart of criminality and let the blood and guilt splatter where they may."

Well, at least the critics gave you a fair warning. It was a movie with incessant scenes of heads got blown away here and there. Not a novelty from a Scorsese's, of course. But I was a little irritated with his head fetish, indeed when Wahlberg blew Damon's sorry brain off, I bellowed at the screen: Hey, give us something fresh and shoot the guy in the chest!

I heard that "The Departed" is actually a remake from the Hongkongese "Infernal Affairs". It's not a bad remake, but I hope that this does not signify that Hollywood is running out of original ideas, or worse, losing talents to make them better.

Don't Damn Me

2006-10-17T11:09:00.001+07:00

Don't damn me
When I speak a piece of my mind
'Cause silence isn't golden
When I'm holding it inside
'Cause I've been where I have been
An I've seen what I have seen
I put the pen to the paper
'Cause it's all a part of me

Be it a song or casual conversation
To hold my tongue speaks
Of quiet reservations
Your words once heard
They can place you in a faction
My words may disturb
But at least there's a reaction

Sometimes I wanna kill
Sometimes I wanna die
Sometimes I wanna destroy
Sometimes I wanna cry
Sometimes I could get even
Sometimes I could give up
Sometimes I could give
Sometimes I never give a f*ck

It's only for a while
I hope you understand
I never wanted this to happen
Didn't want to be a man
So I hid inside my world
I took what I could find
I cried when I was lonely
I fell down when I was blind

How can I ever satisfy you
An how can I ever make you see
That deep inside we're all somebody
An it don't matter who you wanna be
But now I gotta smile I hope you comprehend
For this man can say it happened
'Cause this child has been condemned
So I stepped into your world
I kicked you in the mind
An I'm the only witness
To the nature of my crime

But look at what we've done
To the innocent and young
Whoa listen to who's talking
'Cause we're not the only ones
The trash collected by the eyes
And dumped into the brain
Said it tears into our conscious thoughts
You tell me who's to blame

I know you don't wanna hear me cryin'
An I know you don't wanna hear me deny
That your satisfaction lies in your illusion
But your delusions are yours and not mine
We take for granted we know the whole story
We judge a book by its cover
And read what we want
Between selected lines

Don't hail me
An don't idolize the ink
Or I've failed in my attentions
Can you find the missing link
Your only validation is living your own life
Vicarious existence is a f*cking waste of time
So I send this song to the offended
I said what I meant and I've never pretended
As so many others do intending just to please
If I damned your point of view
Could you turn the other cheek

(Slash / Lank / Rose)