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It’s kind of late in the evening to be hanging out at Alberto’s on weekdays, but it’s such a starry night to miss. The wind is blowing just right and the moon is shining brightly. I guess the Sea Goddess is having a ball. Such a romantic tune from an acoustic guitar is serenading between the backdrops of the waves. That serene moment is lurking which is so rarely come to existence.

There’re people all around me tonight, not a bad night for business. Tables are full with happy faces in small groups, dining with friends or love ones, on holiday. Temporarily forgetting the life routines with no cares in the world, spending rupiahs, and feeling like Kings and Queens on the upper hand of the dollar value. Life’s a heaven my friend, as long as you are traveling in the less fortuned countries instead of your mighty developed one.

Feeling like in a holiday myself. Hanging out at café anytime the urge arises. Going through the daylight hours in an office where works are not the burden, with colleagues whom are the blessed from heaven. Salary’s enough for spending in a reasonable luxury. Living in my closed up world, in my own made believe routine. No hassle, if not provokes by those efforts of self-induced tantrum. What more can a girl ask for?

In fact, a lot more I should admit. All is combined into a one whole package, of love. For whatever it means and whatever forms it may manifests. A special someone to call my own, to share moments with, be there with through all the life’s ups and downs. Is it too much to ask? I wonder. Thus, question never meets the answer’s eye and this hollowness inside despite the cheerful and tomboyish outlook on life still sustains deeply. Peeking out once in a while, once provoked by memory, reverie, love song or some romantic movie or book. This silly old heart keeps reminding that wiser brain about something, which is not, yet in place. Yet, every time the logic mechanism will waltz in, acting on in a referee’s shoe, setting back the equation into balance, soothing the emotions ripples, sending provable and solid facts, till’ finally there’ll be one missing heartbeat, a slowed-down rhythm and once again day begins and ends normally.

Indifference, with the provoking long lasting taste of bitterness, is lingering in the background. The backdoor man is standing guard, making sure there is not a slightest ray of souls float by. When it broke through once or twice, lust was in domain instead of love.

Still a remedy is found in this state of indifference. It’s proclaiming that life can be so much fun by simply pushing back the thoughts. It works all the time with only one down fall of recurrence, a flashback. Every now and then, this medicine needs to be reinforced to reach that state again, sweet indifference with a bit of bitterness for an aftertaste.

Laughing and being gay, are the essential ingredients. Go out fishing for fish, fishing for squids, feeling the sea breezes at sunset, no need for waking up for sunrise – it’s inducing an opposite effect – undesirable, absorbing splashes of sea water on my lips and blink again and again when they catch the eyes – enjoy – it’s a preferable substitute for those forbidden tears, climbing the mountain in reach – it works the body and spirit in shape for the road of courage and bravery. Endurance is that sweet elixir for a limbo state of mind. Laughing and being gay pour up those most inner feelings to those with willing ears and or use all the charms to will those unwilling. Days will pass feathery; weeks will change into months and years, resulting in a wider circle of so-called close friends. The most valuable lifesavers, unsubstitutable, whom can be easily reached by emails, wherever I might crash and make that a so-called home, temporarily before those spur of moment relocations stormed in.

Best advice of all, is to follow that happiness craving in small portion at a time. As big portion will never come and if it does, be careful, delirious might most likely be the effect. Just settles for the act of living tomorrow worry for tomorrow journey as today possess its own load and there’s always that damn slight possibility that tomorrow will never take its existence. A wise lady once said and believe it still, if you are following this stream of consciousness you will recognize her words, “Rise up like a phoenix, unharmed and be even more graceful yet tough. It will never matter what was your previous state of wreckage, once you have found that courage to reincarnate, you will be whole again, better than ever.”

Simple sweet things in life are precious and rarer than the dinosaur’s skulls. They require less digging to unearthed, less science mapping to discover, less geological knowledge to classify. Yes, they are truly harder to notice in this buzzing indifference and yet once the brainwaves radar took in those blinking red dots, the heart will classify them easily and store them dearly in a special slot. Once in awhile, those are the fuel used to grease up ones life’s wheel. Turning the cycle back into a jazzy rhythm, sliding back to ease, breathe in and relax. The world goes round and rainbow rays are still decorating the sky just like the first in Noah’s ancient one. The sight of that spurs of colors across the grandiose sky, is the only thing and the closest thing to a permissive dream and hope.

Remembering oneself, most of all. Once you have gained that control, nothing is able to pull you down too far. Beware. Indifference is not equal to being death of all senses. It is a selective indifference in practice that I am aiming for. Keeps me sane, keeps me writing this. And in the light that people might take us lightly, pardon me, but let’s give them the finger, the one in the middle, I am referring to, mind you. Things that I have worked for, this castle that I have built stone by stone, all the principles that I hold higher than religion, made a version of a being I am today. Yes, this selective indifference is legally prescribing a finger for those unlucky ones whom this heart labeled as lower than dandruff. It is authorized to be used perfectly with whom I do not hate but despise as a being with unprogrammed personality worth created. Remembering oneself, most of all. Reconsidering the whole effort for being the one, I am today. So, be prepared finger, and sincerely hoping overtime is not required. Just to be on the safe side when heaven and hell actually is a proven verity.

Once in awhile let that combination of heart and soul guides the actions instead of those brain cells and logic. As long as the conscience is capable of taking in all the consequences, float away, why not. Especially, in the case of one of those special kind of lust, where a common ground and interest is in view, when emotion is stronger than pride or ego – which is rarely happening in reality – with all the five or even six senses cry out in “Aye”, dive in the deep water. Trust and have faith on those tiny cells, motherboard will kick in and throw that lifesaver which or whom will keep you afloat again eventually. Hold on to those feelings, those simple things in life. Open all pores, breathe in those sweet sensations of another soul, so near, so close at hand. Linger with a big smile, be willy-nilly, and count the daisy. Having a warm body next to yours is a damn handy for a 3 a.m. bedtime story session to lull you to your dreamless sleep. Believe in the human instincts. Forget commitment, don’t mind planning, there’s nothing to it. Don’t make any blueprint. Don’t release those air balloons filled with hopes and attached with promises. A borrowed time and moment is enough to save the day. Return them to the owner promptly, don’t evoke problem with those mobs. The good ones are always taken if they are not they are classified under the “Missing Links.” The bad nuts are not worth discussing.

Remember this heart and soul act is only allowed to perform just for the sake of sanity. Small dose is more than enough for going back to the logic track. Eventually, the turn of time will knock some senses in mother earth’s plan for yours truly. With the big bang repeating, the force of universe will be collating heart, soul, brain cells, and logic in one major momentum. And, love will finally manifest its meaning before ones very own eyes, revealing before its many masks, in its first baby suit from heaven, matching all the questions to answers and the odyssey ends once and for all.

Behold. That is a version of a fairytale like ending. From a complicated and curious mind set such as this, there’s also another popped up question about the existence of a soul mate. The wonder of it all, if the other person’s soul is the genuine half of the other half then they should be born at the same date, exact same hour down to the exact same millisecond. And with a rapid leap of technology, there will be a time when locating one another is surely not a quest.

But then again, there might be a chance, and most likely, there definitely is, that heaven has a huge storage room for all those halved souls, with no clear instruction and timing, decent maps nor blueprints for sending them out to the universe. Thus, the “Where’s Waldo?” case syndrome is the most common occurrence. This is the version of a non-fairytale like ending.

Free will, free choice, my friend. Select the appropriate button on your life screen and live with it. Making whoopees is not always the result. That’s all.

So, I am in between jobs, unemployed and have too much time on my hands. I have been hanging in this coffee shop at SMS, the Mall for far too many hours. Almost like a daily ritual, a retreat place for contemplating whether I should go the gym and have my workout; the gym is conveniently locating itself a few door down from the café, such a nuisance, or for continuing my cooling down period from the torturous workout from the gym over tall white – no sugar, in a large mug, one after another, contemplating something else which happen to cross my mind other than exercises, thanks goodness. I always have a book with me to read, sometimes with my laptop, accessing the free Wi-Fi, checking my emails, chatting and of course, my Facebook. When I’m with my laptop, I pretend that I am a famous writer tolling along with my latest novel, typing away while the world passes me by, hush now, I’m creating another master piece. When I get bored, I text, Noval the PT, tell him that I’m at the café (again) and whether he would like to come and join me for a cuppa. He understands me quite well now, just of course, he does pray to dear Gods, that I would be the only client that he has who is so damn lazy to exercise, what a black hole for the continuity of his monthly income. He even says that out loud to me once, “Hopefully, you are the only one with this habit,” while patting my shoulder repetitively, follows by, “Amen, Amen, Amen.”

I become a regular customer, just missing a membership card to this place. Lately, I even try to address the waiters with their names, which conveniently written in big letters on their nametags, pin strategically on their uniforms. I introduce myself once, to one of them. However, I guess, they can’t be bothered to remember my name. To them, I might just be one of those crazy women who are very fond of coffee with no sugar. Nevertheless, they always greet me with a big smile, “Hello again, the usual?” with an equally big smile, I would always reply, “Yes, thanks.”

Today, I probably make myself the newest entry into the wall of fame and gossip amongst the staff. Have I mention that I am between jobs, unemployed and have too much time on my hands? See, a few days ago, as usual, I was hanging at the mall. During one of my “normal” strides heading to the cafe, normal in my term – Ma always thinks that I walk too fast and in a panic mode -  I almost stop walking but didn’t, staring at this lone guy sitting at one of the tables of the café, he returned my stare and throw me a smile. I just looked at him and his smile but I know that my expression was a grim one. I didn’t feel any facial muscle pull forming something resembling a smile or a grin; I just kept on walking and by passed him on a way to nestle myself yet to the big red sofa, happy in finding it unoccupied.

Then the odd thing happened, I was restless, which I never experienced before while enjoying myself in this café. Over that lone stranger sitting at the table in front, why? Just because he was cute, bule (Caucasian) and he smiled at me? I didn’t do anything though, just tried to concentrate reading my book and glance at his back once in a while. Nevertheless, hold on, the saga continues. I went home and somehow couldn’t get the guy image out of my head, not intensively hanging in my head, he was, of course, just a passing thought which come and go ever so often. Guess what I did the following day, that’s right, I hang out at the café again and this time, yes, correct, waiting for that guy to show up.

I don’t know what is it, me and waiting, somehow, lately, all that I do is wait. Wait for a queue at the checkout counter at the supermarket, at the cinema ticket counter, wait for a turn for haircut, wait for a queue to ease at the ATM, wait for someone to finally dump me, wait for people to reply to my emails ‘begging’ them for work, wait for anything else which seem mundane and now wait for a perfect stranger, just because, he gave me a smile. I went home when the clock struck 9.50pm. Don’t want to be stranded here at the mall like the last time; I was in one of my writing frenzies, yes, you guess it, at the same café, listening to the live acoustic band as the inspirational background music. When I look up from my laptop, the waiters have started stacking the chairs around me, the band has sung its finale and the members were then sitting at the table near the stage talking amongst themselves and having their midnight snacks.

Time to go home, but when I reached the taxi stand, it was stranded. The security guard told me that all taxi normally leave the stand around 10pm or so. So, I was stranded at the almost empty mall. Camping at the mall? Didn’t sound like a very inviting idea. I called the taxi company twice and twice they told me to wait and they will try to dispatch one for me. I called for the third time, the battery left one tiny bar mark on my mobile, to panic or not to panic. “I would drive you home on my motorbike, if only I am not on duty,” the security guard told me. I thought, eh… I don’t think I would want you to drive me home, but then again, camping here or not camping here was the question. We started making small talks and he became more annoying with each minute of the conversation, then he started flirting, I could never stand people flirting with me much, something about it just make me cringe. In the middle of that critical moment, trying to decide whether I should just take the risk to walk home, which would be somewhat dangerous in this time of night, I saw, hallelujah, one adorable light blue taxi came to my rescue. Adorable, just because it saved the night for me. So now I know, my curfew would be 10pm. Unless, a friend or my sister with a car is my hanging out companion.

So, the lone cute bule stranger was nowhere to be seen. But alas, hold and behold, he is here now. As usual, I park myself at the red comfy sofa, nursing my tall white, the usual, no sugar, reading my book happily, when I look up, there he is, pulling himself a chair at a few table away in front of me. My heart start pounding, my face turn red, I yell to myself, inside my head of course, he is here! What next? In the effort to calm myself, I read 2 pages of the book that I am holding in my hand, this time, without being carry away to another time dimension of the story, of a woman’s quest in seeking for everything, I think, I am on a quest of my own now. So, think. What next, he is here! 2 pages and a half, I call one of the waiters and ask him for a pen. Hold your breath this is what I write down on the napkin, ask Kiki, the waiter, to pass on to the stranger, pointing at him, tell Kiki, “Could you please give this to that friend of mine over there, yes that bule,” pointing at him handing the note to Kiki.

Hello Stranger,

Would you like to have coffee with me? I’m paying. No, I’m not nuts.

Signed: The girl at the sofa.

Ps. If you say yes, could you please act like you know me, when you walk over here? (and draw a funny face as a closing remark, me on the napkin, not the stranger of course).

I watch Kiki passing on the napkin to him; watch him reading what is written on the napkin while he walks over to the guy. Watch the guy reading the napkin, I can only see the back of his head, but I am sure, he is on total bewilderment. I am in my own bewilderment too. This is a very odd, the strangest thing, a borderline lunatic act that I have ever done, ever, in my entire life.

Then, he turns around to look at me, flashes his smile to me, this time resembling a big grin, I hold up my coffee mug in cheer to him, flashes my own grin back at him.

You want to know what happen next? Hold on; let me tell you something else instead. This is I, after losing 7kgs of my fat. This is I, who now looks good in hot-pant and my T-shirt size has downsized from L to S. This is I, who is now getting use to carry a lady handbag instead of a backpack. Me, who is now getting use to carry a lipstick tube and a compact powder complete with little mirror in my lady handbag. Me, who is recently discovered the magic of pedicure and manicure. Sarah Boone, who is nowadays, can look at her reflection and tell herself quietly, saying,” You don’t look bad at all, missy. Quite presentable, I must say.” Yippie! My hairdo with its wavy natural look perm looks great too.

The napkin! Yes, the napkin finds its way back to my hands, Kiki hands it over to me with a twinkle eyes and a kind of smile that I can’t decode in an instance. On the flip side of the note that I write on a few minutes ago, here is what the cute bule stranger engraved his reply in Indonesian: “Maaf, sedang tunggu istri. Terima kasih ya!” – Sorry, waiting for the wife. Thank you eh!

I feel like laughing my head off. Between my embarrassment and indifference, I just sit there continue to read my book, in “earnest” sipping my coffee like nothing ever happen. Few minutes later, I find myself easing back in my original slumber, supported by the cushions all around me, folding my legs up on the sofa, kick off my comfortable yet chic platform sandals, light up a cig and inhale. Then, in between the story that my book serenades, a thought passes through my head, “Oh MY GOD! The waiters might think that I’m a hooker!”

All right! Here goes nothing! In waiting, in the effort to numb senses and slow down the usual thinking pattern, in between jobs, the God’s forbidden land for those with a chipped pride on the shoulder. Well, all of the above or maybe just for the sake of sanity. Somehow, my brain told my desire, my desire told my fingers to write. Ok, so write I shall. A little voice in my head also says that this is good, this is a therapeutic activity much-needed to pass the day. Well, it is obviously better than fattening oneself with tons of foods.

But then, how am I supposed to begin this so-called therapeutic act. Should I start from the day I was born? No I cant, my brain of emotions haven’t really developed yet at that time. Still adjusting the intake of air to my lung instead of the familiar fish like life I was used to for 9 months. Should I start from the future, tomorrow or the day after tomorrow? Don’t think so too. I might not have anything to say about the days to come. Maybe I should start from this very moment. What have led to this very moment? Yeah….? A big blank, blank, blank. Yes, I have to admit, two hands down, I even don’t know how, why, what, could lead to this, to me, my complicated life as it surely feels now. But I surely have to start from somewhere.

How about starting from how I think my surrounding perceived me? Maybe this could be a good start. As however I try to resist and reject, I am still a social being. And unfortunately, what other people think of me or comment on my actions, do matter to how I see myself. Yes, it is surely fruitless to think that I have evolved higher than this. Useless to think that I am beyond what other people’s perception of me, I am and sure will always be effected and endlessly trying to seek approval from others just to feel good about myself and my doing.

Come square and analyze what has just crossed the mind. I surely want to believe that I could survive without others approving nods, without other accusing fingers on things that they do not approved. No matter how often I have told myself, others opinions will not matter and that their branded labels on me will not make me less human. I am still wondering, did it? Does it? Will not matter? Who am I actually? If I am saying that others yakkydy yak will not matter. Why? Every single time, I am bound to think and consider and re-introspecting myself again and again and have all these thoughts of pros and cons running wild in my head back and forward, back and forward and back again which finally leave me drained and very tired? And still feel empty and ready for another set of arguments with whoever crossed my path to defense myself, to stand a ground to prove they are wrong and I am right? What for? What is the use in it? The only thing that I could soundly state and agree with logic is, this is my entire ego seeking an approval. Quite useless and so what? Another day will go by and then I calm down, and act like I never have a battle with anyone over nothing or praise myself for taking a stand on something. On what? On working myself flat-out and dramatizing on all, the all too well life dramas and life episodes? Doesn’t the TV have enough soap operas? Don’t the books spill all that emotional tragedies? Don’t the songs sang high and low and heehaw on that forlorn subject? Should I add more to the session by documenting my own pathetic of whatever life I am having right now?

Yes…. the little red devil in me sigh satisfactorily and smile happily. Now that I am fighting with myself on the due course that I have no one to talk to. The fight is still burned the same for him. Down, down, down to hell I am. Conscience is the worst thing to have in this time while juggling one subject of an argument to the next.

When talking about what others consider of me. I surely can’t help but thinking, is it only me? Or all of those people have the same problems? Surely, I could not read anyone’s mind and maybe too numb to realize and to connect with anyone. This little me just notice that the verbal words and the unspoken certain degrading gestures hurt like hell. Do they? Do they have the same thoughts? There is no way I could find that out. There is no way I could try to figure out others, while so caught up in my own self and my own thinking. But somehow, maybe by trying to figure out about my own self, it could somehow help me figure out others. After all, we do make out of the same substance, same chemicals, and same particles. The things that make me tick, why shouldn’t it make others tick too? Let’s not go all scientific about this or philosophical over this. I am simply trying; desperately trying to figure out what is happening to me and why my existence depends heavily on others. Take it or leave it, is not the question. The effects on my sanity are too much to bear.

Therapeutic. Ah! My ass! I can feel myself turning upside down again, with feeling kind of familiar, kind of like a type of anger, similar sounds like: ding-dong you going nowhere and work myself out for nothing. Nothing. Let’s just forget the whole things, sweep everything under the carpet. Seriously numb my senses again and doze to the subconscious. It worked well before, why shouldn’t it work now. Come on, you need to relax, take a deep breath and forget. Forget. Lure yourself. There is nothing to this; there is no significant value whatsoever. Why bother? Forget, forget. That is exactly why we human can only use less than 10% of our brain. To forget, that’s why. To prevent us from going berserk every time a call on a decision-making time beyond your control and power occurs. There is nothing to decide, be cool, stay cool, peace man! Life goes on, whether you are aware of it or not. You are just a speck of dust in this wide universe. How could you possibly think that your thinking and your battle actually mean something to the continuity of this world? How very vain. How very ha ha ha.

Shut your hole! For once, while I am still breathing. I don’t care; I simply do not give a damn. I will speak, I will pour out my heart and mind content, whether the world is listening or sick and tired of my whining. Do you think I care? It is the all-so goody goody Mother Nature that you should blame not me. I don’t ask to be born. I don’t ask to be born as a human. I don’t ask to be bestowed with brain and emotions. Gosh! Emotions. High time wire and tangle up emotions. Yeah, I challenge you to a duel, if it is your sound opinion that this type of thinking could only be happening to a woman. With all those highly charged hormones, I then should be bound to feel and think this way, yeah right, say it again and I swear to whoever listening and care to witness that you would not see the light of another day. Making utter generalization on this will be your last generalization on anything, at all.

All right, all rise and say “Don’t worry be happy” and hum that dee dada dum little notes. Let’s pretend I have never lost my grip there for a while. Maybe that will help. Even thought I am sure whoever wrote that little notes, was, does and always will have his own share of worry. Doesn’t matter, does it? Whatever!

All right. As this is supposed to be therapeutic. I am not supposed to condemn anyone. Including myself. Just simply stating the facts, be calm and reasonable. It surely will not help in any way to get in the murky water of emotions. Best to avoid it all together. Stick to the fact and analyze it calmly and rationally. You bet, Newton was not swearing his head off when that rotten apple landed smack right on his skulk.

Let’s start again. Right, at this moment in time, I am stuck in stagnation. How about that? I wonder, do all people consider themselves, to have a lot to offer in life? Have so much energy and brainpower and do goods ability in them? Can’t help but turning every stones to better-fying oneself and be useful, feel needed and be proud? Well, I do. I am surely do. But, is there anyone in that similar quest feel so misunderstood? Experiencing every close door with nothing seems to turn out right? Can’t even hold a rewarding and satisfying job cause somehow “that” company culture is not for “you”? You do not belong there but you desperately need the money, if you should to admit but too proud and rather walk out of the whole thing? Just to start again searching the newspapers for another maybe not too similar job? And when trying to address the matter to others, bitterly realized that people just regard you as too hang up on yourself, too proud or even talking bullshit and a lot of craps and rolling in self-pity cause things didn’t work out like you want them to? Well, I do. So? What is wrong with that? I am not asking what is wrong with me. I just desperately want to know what is wrong with that life picture of mine.

Not to say that you do not have the education background. Jesus! You can read and write ok, you even have a degree or two up your sleeves. Not to say that you are green or wet behind the ear on job front. You have worked before, somehow even consider that you know exactly what you want as a career but can’t seem to get things to fall to place. One thing or another leads you back to scanning the newspapers, bury your nose under the job section and feeling anxious that there is nothing good enough for you, nothing up your alley. And trying to convince yourself that what you want as a career path is not an ordinary path other people would take, thus the opportunity is rarely showing its nose printed bold on the front page.

But you keep on dreaming. Hoping that when you can land a whatever job it is, you have saved the days, have a little money balancing your bank account again and scream a bloody freedom by spending it on little luxury of your heart desire. Complaining daily to whomever you happen to talk to or corresponding with about why this and that didn’t work. Why he or she didn’t have brain and logic. Like hell, like you have all the right to judge. Even though you feel all-righteous and hate people who judge. But you carry on anyway. Driving all your so-called friends nuts and one by one they just learn to ignore you and you rarely heard from them anymore. You graciously think that they are busy; they have a life of their own. In fact darling, they have better things to do then listen to your complaints in and out, fly over the window and back staggering drunk frenzy of self-justification. You even told them that you are tired listening to your own self-complaining about the same old things, which is absolutely true. And yet, sure you just can’t help it but to go on complaining cause the people that you meet daily are a bunch of morons. Hah! You believe that till the end of the day.

When people told you that you are talking bullshit. You simply hate what they are saying and shut them out from your life. Branding them, people that you could not relate to and not bother to try to value as anything, and slot them in a special black box, labeled do not open, ever.

In the case that people agree with you that you are down on your luck at the moment and yes true, true, the morons people who you describe with your heart contain are truly genuine morons and your feelings are very much valid. You can’t help but wonder, can you? Are they? Is it all exaggeration over a void? You start to regret little things, like you should hold your horses, keep the job, take the monthly paycheck and shut your gob and be done with all the nagging and complaining. Enjoy yourself with the little money that you have. And then you start wondering, whether the person that hold the same agreement and acknowledge your feelings as reasonable, is right in his/her head? Your skeptical mind racing and trying to find reasons from all angles. You started to poke around his or her empathy, trying to figure out what this person got to hide by agreeing with you. Cause you know, or you should think you know that you tend to blow everything over proportion and lull in self-pity but hide in the name of logic and what is right (in your head not necessary to others) and the so-called your much treasured common sense. Exhaust yourself by questions after questions and finally you draw back. Thanks goodness you come to your senses and stop bullying others with emotional of however logical arguments. Shut yourself days and nights, trying to numb all senses.

Until the next time around, you will pull yourself up. As you have learned to pick up the pieces, which of course shattered by your own self-tantrum. You tell yourself that you could be whole again, until next time, yes next time. You won’t let yourself fall too far down. You try to convince yourself that there is no one in this world care about yourself except of course, you. And the story goes on, while you drown in self-love and finally, yeah you got another job. But guess what, it’s the beginning of a circle. But of course, you won’t admit it. You surely still have the high hope that yes, this is it and you promise yourself this time would be better. This time, days eventually start waking up on the right side of the bed. Who knows? Maybe. You surely hate to see everything you want or “maybe” you want, all up in the air, they might fall to your lap or they might just fly to the other direction and leaving you with nothing. However, to put the end to it, you must feel a bit relieve knowing that something there in the air, better than nothing at all. Upon nothing, you could not bear to live anymore under that circumstance and think of those suicidal thoughts again and cry yourself to sleep. Ha! Another useless act from yourself, which you are too proud to banish. What for, you think, cause you even consider that as an act of balancing your emotion and logic. What a complicated and twisted mind, which you can’t help but treasure, as you do not have anything else to do and to be proud of.

So, from the very start. I know this is not going to be therapeutic at all. What therapy? This is just simply putting words on blank screen. Punching the keyboards for a string of words cause I do not have anything better to do. I am just pretending that I could write all this up and somehow I could feel a lot better. Hah! Therapeutic indeed. I should be considering being a shrink ah … a psychiatrist, among other things that I want to be. Still like a child, when asked, what do you want to be when you grow up? Eyes twinkling, heart pounding, I want to be a painter (no you can’t, you can’t even draw a straight line!), I want to be a singer (don’t you start, you can’t even win that goddamn karaoke contest!), I want to be a writer (ha ha yeah right, you don’t even know the different between plot and main idea, yeah sure just write whatever come to mind, you are doing just swell!), I want to be a consultant (oh god help the people who have to consult you for anything!). Bla bla bla all ends with a baba black sheep, in other words, nothing, I couldn’t be clearer than that.

Oh no, no, this is not a suicide note. Give me a credit; this is surely way too long for that kind of “Sorry, I need to end this, but first listen to my last grouchiness about what’s wrong with this world!” note. I am not going to give the people the satisfaction, exhale that deep relieve breath “thanks god you are dead!”, after reading this note. Ha ha, to think that I wrote all this to keep on torturing the world or myself in particular, maybe, why should I stop, after this “simple” note, drop dead, forgotten and let everyone else leave in peace. Oh no, ah ah, I am going to haunt all of you. If I could not make myself understood in this lifetime. I would try again the next time around. Surely, I haven’t done major harm to anyone, which entitled me to be reborn as a field mouse after judgment day.

But hold on a minute, yeah I think it is. Eh is it? Yes, yes, I do think so. This is actually really turned out to be a remedy. Amazing! Hallelujah! This is absolutely therapeutic. My gosh! I feel so much better, much, much lighter compared to this afternoon before I started writing all this down. Oh, wow!

(Ehm…. I think I have sprained my wrist trying to type so fast, these last 2 hours 44 minutes 43 seconds. My butt is going numb and my eyes are watering from staring at the computer screen too intensely. How about your soul? Arrgh humbug! There’s nothing like a soul, what are you talking about? Like I say, your particles are the same basic substance as the next table, you feel this turmoil because you have a chemical imbalance in your body, take your vitamins and whatever amino acids they gave you. You’ll be fine in the morning! Go on, hush! Go on!)

Online Blunders

Ting!

A/s/l plz?

38/female/Indonesia. Urs?

You have a web cam?

Nope.

OK, ciao.

Ting!

Asl?

38/f/Indo

Do you have pics?

Check my profile.

……

Ting!

I saw your profile, you are very pretty. I like you feet.

Say what? Feet?

Yeah…. very sexy.

Oh, OK thanks, bye.

Ting!

Do you want to see mine? I got a web cam?

No thanks.

I am horny, how about you?

Sorry, not interested.

Hi!

Buzz…

(Me, clicking ignore button)

Ting!

Hi! I haven’t seen you on line for ages. How are you, baby? I miss you.

Oh hi, really? You actually miss me?

Yeah sure.

Bla bla bla ….

Another satisfying night on line? Not quite.

How could you actually miss someone that you never even meet and do not really had a truly meaningful conversation with? After all the small talks about nothing within a specific soul connecting topic, nothing in the level of sharing life stories, just mindless chatting about superficial mundane subjects, could you actually really miss the person? Or, is it just the matter of seeing a person that you had conversation with, any type of conversation with, on line? Knowing that if you are bored from surfing the net and hoping to find other more interesting on-liners, at least you have someone to type words to? Moreover, what is it about “baby” or “sweetie” or “honey” as a substitute greeting, as name is forgettable and difficult to keep track of? Unimportant, insignificant, like the person on the other side of the screen? Honey, you sure look beautiful! Maybe, miss, is actually a word been abused here. Do you miss snow, for example? You have seen the pictures, know about the funs associated with it, a bit history of the formation, very interested to see it with your own eyes one of these days, but you have been living in a tropical country most of your life? Possible? Maybe. Funny, I miss fondue, but seen it and taste it before. The same? Maybe.

What a small world indeed! True. Find your perfect match. Chat with anyone from all over the world. Your soul mate is out there. Be a premium member, post your picture(s);  increase your chance to be noticed.

Do I really want to chat with people all over the world to find a soul mate? Increase my chance to be noticed? Therefore, what then? Happily ever after? Do I need the emotional rush every time that virtual kiss from a good looking opposite sex waiting inbox? You got mail! Do I need that slight disappointment which only has a few days life span when emails or that yellow smiley face next to the name always seem to be in white? Why do I even bother? Why do I seek someone “real” on internet? Hello!?! Anyone? Brain left and grey substance stay at home? Anything more virtual than this? Star Trek – the next voyage.

Someone “real”, that’s actually a strange definition. Real in personality or real in flesh and blood? Those are the two things that could not be sent down the telephone line, could they? Someone to share thoughts with. The other person does not even have the chance to see how you really perform in daily basis. They could not find out if you are a loser in life. Or that time when you lost your cool and scream bloody murder. Or that you bloated like a blow fish in the name of stress and loneliness. Or that you burp or fart like everyone else, considering when it does happened in the privacy of your solitary confine it is human but when in public is a no no?

How could someone be “real” without entering your daily life? How can someone could be considered as your lifeline when you talk about the experience of sinking a week after you drown? How could someone ever actually give an objective opinion when things happen around you in a very complex tenure, which puzzled even yourself as the actor? The other person could always be there for you if you need someone to talk to, yes true, if the other person has a life worth living, glued to the screen always, it is not actually a good indication of one’s life quality, isn’t it?

The leap of technology. It’s a small world after all. The ultimate connection of all the lonely people all over the world. In the name of hope, fun, passing the time, widen ones social horizon, all boil down to one single thing, companion. The craving need to fill that empty space that “real” daily life could not provide.

Ting!

Hi this is Matt from Alaska, single, 40, glad I find you on line. I saw your profile and would really like to get to know you more. Do you have time to talk?

Hi Matt, sure.

So how are you? I see that you into old jazz songs, me too. Which one is your old time favorite?

Moonlight in Vermont. Yours?

Really? What a coincidence, mine too. Have you ever listen to the BB King’s version of it?

YES!!!! Nicely done with blues rhythm. Can’t believe you like that song too.

Bla bla bla

(3 hours later)

It’s been really nice talking to you. I hope we could do this sometime soon.

Ditto, Matt. Can’t believe we have been chatting for more than 3 hours.

Yes, time fly when you are having fun, right. You should get some sleep. It must be about 3 am there.

You’ve been updating the international time zone for my part of the world I see  : )

That’s why I want you to get some zzzzz….. It’s very late there. I’m glad that I caught you on line.

Me too. What time is it there?

Around 10 AM, Saturday morning.

Oh, you wake up very early on a Saturday. Daily habit?

The truth? I was awake too early on weekend and couldn’t get back to bed. So I thought that I log on to see if you are on line. And, what do you know. You are!

(Thinking … this guy is too good to be true, spooky ……… no wild Friday night with a hangover type too) Well, I’m glad that you didn’t decide to try harder to doze off again.

Yes, “what a difference a day makes” surely has a new meaning to me today

Natalie Cole’s version hhahhah (smiling from ear to ear)

(30 minutes phase of goodbye later)

So I see you next Saturday same time same place then.

I like that.

Sweet dreams, I’ll email you during the week.

Bye Matt, have a relaxing day and take care.

Nite nite Sarah, you take care too and I’ll see you in a while.

Still smiling from ear to ear. Logging off and shutting down windows. See you in a while? Eh, hold on. It’s just a matter of speech. There’s surely nothing to it. On line friendship, ok that’s not something that is too much to ask. “Real” companionship? Relationship? Marking a family tree together? Adding another surname behind my own? That’s absolutely ha ha. Different time zone, different sphere of the planet, different culture, different language – just imagine mom, she will be an all smiley face in-law with exotic foods on the table and never be a shopping partner to the in-law. Do I really want this mix? Why am I even thinking about this possibility? This is surely not a possibility anyhow. Give this Matt chap and me a few weeks. Then it’s only gonna be me and this “Mad” guy that I use to chat with. Hallelujah. God have mercy!

And sure enough, I have never seen that Matty guy online anymore…

“If I were you, I would let him go. You’re better off finding someone who will adore and cherish you.” I read what Mandy wrote in her email to me again, keep repeating the same line, trying to get the message across. “What is the worst anyway? You will be single, you have been there before, and that wasn’t that bad, was it? It is ridiculous really, why it is such a big need we human have, to have someone to love and to feel liked and admired by others. You, for goodness, try to manage yourself and see yourself as “single woman” and seek a life that express that identity. Start by figuring out what is it that you love – truly love about yourself, then, my dearest, I have known you for years now; you will start to shine again.” Jane’s shooting voice is still ringing in my ears.

“Look. I still belief in what I have told you so many times before,” May cuts me in my mid-sentence while trying to pour my heart out again. “You can’t close yourself up, make friends, make new friends, go out, have fun, you can’t be putting all your eggs in one basket, date others, keep them around like an assortment of goodies, so to speak. A is good for when you need someone to go for a movie with. B is good for hunting for yummy foods at any new culinary delight corner of Jakarta. C is good for when you need that serious profound deep conversational partner. D is good for fixing your laptop. E is good for a bodyguard to attend weddings with and so on. You don’t have to be involved with a devotion of a heart and soul, have fun, keep it light. Do your weeding as you go along. If they decide to stay, throw them some bones, you yourself, do not have to decide on anything that you don’t want. If they come and go, you don’t actually care much, do you? I know you think that you love the guy, I know your one track mind, but being miserable and yet still think that you are in love and loved, is kind of nonsense, am I right?”

“You are strong,” May continues her paternalistic best friend lecture; I know she mean well, but she can drive me to slap her sometimes, not that I ever would do such a thing though, “I know you are. But since that Uni days of ours, you have changed and I am worry about you. You used to be so sure about yourself, why are you questioning everything now, why are you questioning YOU?”

“What a bastard!” grimaced Linda, 4 years younger than me, she is nothing like me in personality, but in anger, we are indeed showing the same family trait, “I feel like punching him on the face! Such a coward!” Angel, my other sister, she is 16 years younger than me, put her arm around my shoulder protectively, “Don’t worry too much, sis. Cry if you want. I got this!” pulling a brightly coloured candy stick from her huge cluttered bag and wave it around like a magic wand. I burst out laughing with tears still trickling down my cheek. Linda, uploaded to Facebook, captured the moment on mobile cam timely enough.

These are my support system, my circle of friends, mentors, and lifesavers. These people know me. These are the people that willing to share my life and I am theirs. I am thankful, for each and every one of them. These are the people that come and stay. In my life, they have never said, “Bye now, it’s time for us to say farewell.” With them, the road is never end.  These are the people that never let go of my hand.

Can’t believe I have been in a relationship with another “false attempter” that life got to offer. They are just a few in any universal count, but significantly numerous in my lifetime a count of 15 or so years search. The seemingly good intenders, whether it was 3 days, 3 weeks, 3 months or 3 years of their lingering process, one by one they let go of my hand, the journey take a sudden halt, and once again I am here. Alone. Daze. Looking around me and ask unbelievably, “That’s it?” Nobody seems to be around anymore for me to even ask for any further questions, silence. It’s just me now. Someone has just letting go of my hand. Why? Someone has just freeze another chunk of my heart. I do wonder how big of a heart that I have to withstand all these frostbites; the past’s, the present’s and the future’s.

39 minutes 45 seconds and counting, uh ah uh ah uh ah. This is a rough day testing the endurance. My heart is sinking with every breath that I take. Flashes of memory pieces dive in and out on the big glass window. My body works on its own mechanical wonder and my brain seems to have even bigger boaster, fuel on emotional turmoil. In a race, somehow the later can’t ever seem to find its switch.

The traffic and buildings outside are glazing away; I’m standing alone on my familiar hill, high above looking over the raging ocean below. A single old wrinkled Banyan tree is standing against the wind, grasses green as any eye can see dotted with small yellow daisy ankle high soft on my bare foot. Blue sky slowly turning its skin to a darker shade, patches of clouds closing in on the bright sunlight, slowly turning into grey threatening rain on the horizon creeping ever so slow. I can see my hand, outreaching, trying to grab the passing wind, by some means it seems to have a life of its own. Separating from my body, which is numb in its existence, housing heartbeats that are out of rhythm. I am here, waiting, for something that never seem to materialize. A sense of loss, a sense of disappearing self, a sense of fatality, which rooted deep as deep as my understanding of being. I am here, piercing through the air over to the distance water. Hopes, dreams, those forbidden thoughts that are all suppressed in reality, grow wild with the daisies on this hill. I am here, free to scream and shout, free to let go, free to build, stone by stone, my castle, stone by stone, almost at the same rate as it was destructed, again and again. But, I am still here, standing, alone, the Banyan is still standing, the wind is still blowing, my hill is still here. I am ever lost, yet, I am here, holding on, taking root like the old Banyan.

Slowly, I’m melting further, a little girl sitting on the front door step, crying in silence, an old German shepherd close at her knees. She rest her weary soul on his head, her small arms enveloping him, drawing all the warm and comfort that her little heart can absorb. Brawling from the end of the back corridor, Ma and Pa, their voice rises in the heat of the afternoon sun. I am here, playing back the too familiar scenes, of both of them standing facing each other, armed with whatever domestic tools that they could find, funny, you would never imagine a bug pump-spray is designed handy for human defender or human offender tool. Ma is angry, tears are running down her face, her hair wild, her voice is wilder. Pa was caught ‘handling’ the maid. The maid is nowhere to be seen. Pa is furious, his strong arms flagging in threat, his face turn to Neanderthal expression, and his voice is even wilder than Ma’s. My stone step is the farthest spot that I can go, for now. It’s not safe, it doesn’t protect me, it doesn’t hide me, and it doesn’t take me away. I am waiting, waiting for the neighbor to open their window and see me here. I am waiting, waiting for the Mum next door to come and take me in her house. I am waiting, waiting for the Mum next door to hold me in her arms, and telling me that everything is going to be fine. I am waiting, waiting for the Mum next door to tell me how a brave pretty little girl I am, that a such as I am, doesn’t cry, God loves strong, brave pretty little girl, and I am one of these girls that God creates to be special, who find happiness and good fortune when she grows up, someday. I am this little girl, strong, brave, pretty, with kind heart and life will be kind.

I am a grown up now, and I am still waiting. I do not know whether I am still strong and brave; the Mum next door is long gone. No one is telling me I am a strong, brave, pretty, kind and that life is just going to be fine. My brain is telling me I am strong, the mill is telling me that I am able to burn 159 calories so far. Uh ah uh ah uh and still counting up.

Slowly, a potato KiwiStag01 flies by approaching the big glass window, I look down at the mill’s placard trying to avoid his gaze. The writing is still in small print, only “Warning” in big enough letters. The stop sign circularly red is so attempting for me to press down. “Warning” I read again, I am still walking as fast as I can, swinging my arms back and forward, still trying to avoid his gaze. But, he taps on the glass and I have to look up. He says, “I’m happier without you than with you.” Smile indifferently while chewing on a chocolate chips cookie. “So, NO,” he stresses on the no, “I don’t want you in my life. Between the continuum of Love You and Love You Not, I am placing myself nearest to the Love You Not scale. I can’t see a future with the two of us in it. This is the end of the road. I am sorry that I hurt you, but I am not sorry for letting go.” He flutters his wings, and hover from side to side, looking at me like nothing happen, like it’s a matter of fact, like telling me the weather condition outside under the tropical sun is sunny, bright, 30 degree Celsius, mild wind. Then, he is gone. Gone from the window and gone in every sense of existence. He lets go of my hand, both in my vivid imagination, and in the reality of my every waking moment.

My legs turn weary, exhaustion creeps in, and my finger runs itself to the stop red button, while the warning sign seems to get bigger with each second past. I crash, in a pile on the mill, my head spinning, my heart racing, my sweats running down blending with my cascading tears. The line between my imagination and my vivid surrounding smudged collapsing into one another. I lost grip of myself, I lost grip of my sense of being. In a pile, I stay, shaking, wrapping my arms around my knees. My brain yells in protest, “Sarah! Sarah! Snap out of it! Sarah! Get a hold of yourself! Sarah! Now! Move on! Move on!” I am still here, in a pile on the mill. “Sarah… Sarah…” a strong hand on my shoulder shocks me back to the living, Noval, the Personal Trainer, “Are you ok?” asks him in alarm. “Yes … yes, I’m ok, just fainted for awhile there, I missed breakfast this morning, I’m ok now,” toweling my face to wipe away sweat and tears, I answer in small voice, probably non-coherent to him but that is the only thing that I can master now and try to stand up leaning on his arms. The wiggly hamster still crumples in pile, on the treadmill that I just step out from, still with tears cascading silently from her eyes, hugging her body close to herself.

You are the only person that I thought I can count on; I can run to, whenever I feel miserable. You are the only person that I am counting on to bring joy in my daily life. The only interesting thing for me is to receive a loving message from you, those words the only thing that keep me going daily. I look for it every day and I wait for it every day and it brighten my day knowing that I am not alone and you are there caring for me. Only words, but it makes wonder in my world.

My life is crappy and I badly need comfort. I tried to run to you for comfort, sometimes you are busy, so I wait. I still need comfort, you are still busy, so I wait some more. I still longing to find comfort in you, caused you are the only one that I have and matter. Why I keep pestering you for extra attention, caused you are the only one that I have and I thought can be my source of comfort daily. Even only through online messages.

So I wait, but when the loving gestures didn’t come, and you don’t even know that I need you so badly, I am feeling hurt and very left out. I wait when you were busy, when you are free, you don’t come to me, you have others things to do and have fun. Of course, you are allowed to have fun. But, what about me? I am still waiting to be comforted. The more I wait and the more I feel you never come around, I feel so silly to keep wanting to find comfort in you. You said you care, but from this end all I feel that I am waiting, waiting and if I tried to make a scene, you slam the door, and I am left alone again, still lost and still looking for comfort.

Every time I try to confront you with this feeling, instead of your understanding and your comfort, I get a rebuke. No matter how over reacted my attack, the bottom line is all I need is comfort and loving care. I need justification of my feeling. When I run to you, you feel attacked (which I did attack) and you do not see anything else and do not hear anything else except my attack (seeking your attention by attacking you, I know, I don’t know how else).

You need justification that you don’t do anything wrong, justification of why I attacked you, so unreasonably attacking you. You need justification. You slam the door, until I can give you that justification. In the process, I am left alone again, still feeling as miserable as ever, no justification for me, not from my own conscience. I do need my justification, I need my comfort, and I need someone treating me lovingly. I don’t have anyone else but you. But you need justification of my attack, slam the door; leave me alone to lick my wound. My life is still crappy, I am still miserable. I thought I can find my comfort in you.

Connected with you daily, is the only thing that get me through my day. It is very important to me to know that someone do care and feel it strongly in my heart. You still don’t understand after all this time that I count on you for emotional stability? Am I so wrong to expect this? Is it truly a burden to give me this daily comfort that I have to beg for it? Do you need me to beg? How do I do that? I think by writing this down is already humiliating enough for me. You still do not understand where I am coming from? You still do not understand why I run to you for comfort? What other justification that you need more beside I know that I attacked you? For the reason above this for me is very clear.

You think that I am looking for problems in our relationship? There is only one problem; I need you as my source of daily comfort. You are the only one that I have. But, you do not think that understanding that I need that is important and such you don’t think it’s a big deal to give me that comfort. I know you have everything else in your life; I am just a fraction of it. But, you are a big chunk in mine. Can you understand that?

If after all this said and done, you still do not understand why I react the way I do. What do you want from me?

That’s my latest email to him, which he never replies to. I never know why he never replies to my emails whenever we had a fight and because I can’t have him for a face to face conversation, I wrote all what crosses my mind, all that I feel in writing and email it to him. Silence. Even when we finally made up and on a speaking term again, he never response to my writings.

Speaking of which, we are not in contact these days. He needs time to think.

“I can come there anytime. It’s just the matter of arranging for the visa and permit. Whether we submit the partnership application at the embassy here or in Wellington; that’s a matter that we can discuss later. I can be there with a holiday visa sponsored by you. Hon, the bottom line that I want to hear from you is; do you want me there? Do you want a life with me? Things will be difficult for us at the start; do you think you can afford me until I can find myself a job?”

“I don’t know. I need time to think.”

“What do you mean by you don’t know?”

“Exactly it, I don’t know.”

“… Hon, you don’t know whether you want me or not? What is your heart saying? If you don’t know whether you love me and want me by now, what other kind of answer that you’re searching for?”

“It’s not that simple, it’s not black and white. I don’t know. I need time to think.”

“….”

“….”

“How long do you want me to wait for you? A day, a week, a month, a year, what?”

“Give me two weeks.”

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