Mister Firefighter

Mister firefighter died yesterday when he was on his duty. His daughter cried.
And i feel so sorry because he looked like a realy nice and humble man. I bet the filthy crooked government never paid him well and forced him to work like a slave.
I feel so sad. I wonder who will be the one to take that little girl to school everyday now.
Rest in peace Mister firefighter, rest in peace...

feeling is an absurd content

i'm feeling myself and this is how i feel

image was taken from: www.vampirefreaks.com

Beep.. Beep... Melodrama Soap Alert

So my boyfriend said that it's okay for him if i turn out to be a lesbian one day but it'll mean that i have to break up with him, because i could not be a lesbian and a hetero at the same time, unless if i turn out to be a bisexual of course, but of course i will still have to choose between him and my girlfriend one day and could not be with both at the same time. And he said that i could sleep with Ashton Kutcher as long as i let him sleep with Angelina Jolie. And he said that he will still love me eventhough my cheesy naked pictures are all over every single cell phone in the universe and uploaded in the internet, because he believes that i took those cheesy naked pictures because i am secure with my own body, and there's totally absolutely nothing wrong with that. And he said that i should think of other people who could not see that as nothing but a dust on my shoes. And although he doesn't wanna watch Bewitched with me (he thinks it's just another stupid girl movie), and we had a fight five minutes before the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory started because of some another irrelevant reasons, he held my hand and did not let it go until the movie's over.
And i love him so much eventhough we fight a lot.

>hug< -sie-

Face it, baby... Don't be a phoney.

If you remember the beautifully enchanting Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind, there’s this line spoken by Clementine Kruszcinski (do I spell her name correctly?) to Joel, “Too many guys think I’m a concept, or… I complete them, or… I’m gonna make them alive. But I’m just a fucked-up girl who’s looking for my own peace of mind. Don’t assign me yours.”
She asked Joel not to assign her his own peace of mind. Don’t assign anything regarding his own state of mind upon her.
The thing is, when two people agreed to be attached themselves in the state of being connected, that is, in the name of a relationship, which in this case is… a romantic-kind of relationship, they will always, always, assign their own peace of mind upon one another. That’s why they are agreed to be connected one another, that’s how they are deliberately decided to be joined. Because, deep down inside, they know, that particular person with whom they plan to be in relationship is assign-able for their own needs, whatever that might be.
A boy with an inferiority complex would prefer to let himself be in a relationship with a girl that would make him feel less inferior, which means that he assigns his need to be not in the state of inferiority, there’s this state of secureness in his mind that he wants to achieve, and he needs that girl to assure that he would reach that state of secureness. His own peace of mind where he no longer needs to be worried, his own peace of mind where that girl, helps him to complete the task. And the other way around, of course. That particular girl might needs him to assure herself that her presence in this world is needed badly by someone, that there’s someone out there who feels comfortable being in her hand, that her touches and love do matter for someone. A search for acknowledgement, I guess, to reassure yourself that you are significant, in a way. So the girl assigns her needs upon him, there’s also this state of mind that she needs to achieve, a reassurement that she has to be sure of, and therefore the boy also carries the task for her. He helps her to complete the task of her own piece of mind.
A need to be heard, a need to be accepted, a need to feel loved, a need to be free, a need to find an equal partner, a need of security, the list of needs could go forever, the peace of mind of one man is of course different from another. But there’s one thing in common, though. In order to have the relationship, those kind of assignment of needs have to be reciprocal, that is, a guy whose need is to have a complete freedom for instance, should meet someone whose need is compatible with his. If its not compatible, then there wont be any reciprocity in the assignment, then what would happen is there’ll be one side that would feel burdened and all. Just like a system of barter, in a way.
Maybe that’s why sometimes it feel so hard for one to get in a ‘real’ relationship, the romantic kind, because probably he (or she) has not find someone whose need, whose peace of mind, could be assigned upon him or her. In other word, he (or she) has not find, someone who is compatible with him.
A friend of mine once said that my relationship with my boyfriend is sort of erratic in a way, that is, we’re more like two people who are involved in some trade business or something. But the thing is, no matter how dull and colorless those analogy are used to explain love in a relationship, like it or not, it’s true.
It might sound anything but a fairy tale-ish love where the prince holds the hand of the princess and said that he loves her with those glaring beautiful eyes and then takes the princess to his castle deep down in the forest, and they live happily ever after with their genuine, unspoiled love. But think about it, even the prince must have his own reason why he had chosen to choose the girl to be his princess. Even the prince has his own peace of mind. As well as the princess of course.

Yeah… of course… what the hell am I blabbering here, anyway… never mind, it must be because of that book ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ of J. D. Salinger, you have to read that book, really, at least once, the more the better. It gave you insights and stuff in some oddly peculiar way, at least that’s what the guy who killed John Lennon felt before he decided to kill him, I guess, he read that book first.

-sie-

Talking about compulsive shopping...

I bet for those of you who don’t believe that any act of some spasmodically compulsive shopping could by all means create some euphoric stress relieving therapy are definitely never be in a situation where you found a vintage second-handed fifty-ish little black dress that only cost you 20.000 , rupiah of course, not dollars. Or a cute girly knee-length flower patterned dress with averagely the same prize.
Of course the fact that you obviously would not know to what hell of an occasion would you wear those dresses since you’re just a plain ordinary college girl with very less money in your pocket and obviously totally not a happening socialite in town, would not even be matter anymore. As well as the fact that you need more casual shirts or sweaters instead to wear everyday to campus since you’re running out of decent clothes in your closet.
And just ignore the most likely possibility that those dresses would find their fate as the loyal and eternal residences of your old closet instead, since of course you would most likely never ever going to wear them anyway because you would not find any right occasion to wear them or probably by the time you’d find one, you’d be too fat and those cute dresses just would not fit you anymore. Never mind, you know it’s just too unimportant to be thought about.

The thing is you own the dresses now. You’re happy, and you’re satisfied.

Now, think about the accessories. Is there anyone who happens to read my blog and care to compound this euphoric pointlessness know any vintage store in town where I can get this really classic gloves, like the pair that is used to wear by Audrey Hepburn in the picture above, with a reasonably cheap price? Or is it possible to have them custom made by any tailor?
This is really serious. I’m dying to have them as the accessories for my not-going-to-wear-it-anywhere cute dresses. Just call it another act of euphoric stress relieving therapy, god knows I need those therapy. So please, any recommendation would be highly appreciated.

Sincerely,
-sisie-

Pikebubbles *

I just realized a funny thing. For the past 48 days alone, I hade unconsciously used the phrase ‘ah… he really looks like my dad’ or ‘he reminds me of my dad’ for at least three times, addressed to at least three different men. First, it was Popo, when he kindly drove me home and refused to let me pay for his gas after I got ripped off by that dumb and irresponsible bandit - quoting the term used by the Russian government to refer the Chechen terrorists - on that bloody Friday afternoon. Second, it was the ‘dad’ from an oldskool Japanese quiz show in television who was struggling to pile up three hundred coins of 10 yen in less than seven minutes in order to win prizes for his family, he had five children, all of them are under 10, and an unadorned beautiful wife, the ‘dad’ was given five days to practice making the coins tower in his own house before had had to do it live in the studio. He practiced and practiced and practiced, and the coins tower was always fell, fell, and fell. In that five days of practice, out of… maybe more than 100 attempts of piling up the coins, he succeeded only three times, because his house was so small and he had so many children, small children who could not stop running and bouncing around while keep on screaming and yelling all the time. Every time the coins tower was beginning to stand high, the smallest child came and sat curiously next to the ‘dad’, unfortunately, he was always making too much moves which of course made the table in which the ‘dad’ pile up those coins shook and the tower fell once again. However, although knowing that he really should make it right if he really wanted to win the prizes for his family, not a single time the ‘dad’ was caught making even an annoyed face when his children disturbing his concentration over and over again, he always gave the same patient smile, never once got snap even though his coins tower always fell and fell. When the day of the show really came, they invited the whole family to watch him making the coins tower, but this time… no more practice, it’s the final, once he failed and the tower fell, there would not be any second chance, and those prizes for his family would be gone forever. And everything went so tense at that time, minute after minute, coins after coins, the camera rolled and the viewer could even see how his children closed their eyes and prayed for him, one of them even got too anxious and worried, he got burst in tears. But finally, in the minute six and fifty seconds, their dad succeeded in making the coins tower. He was a hero for them at that moment.
Then the third man reminded me of my dad was the character of Victor Navorsky in The Terminal, played by Tom Hanks. Navorsky was the stranded immigrant from Krakhozia, who was compelled by the power-syndrome-evil immigration officer to stay at the airport while waiting for permission from the USA government to grant his visa and passport and allow him to enter the USA in order to complete his mission. This however, would remain nearly impossible, because at the very same time of his landing, it precisely coincided the point of time where the war had struck in his country, which had caused his nation of origin to no longer exist, making him a man without a country, who did not have any valid identity that might be acknowledged by the states. So he was stuck at the airport and had no other choice but to make his life went on. But Navorsky did not complain, he was not even angered. He did not face his oppressor with fist and fury but he chose to try to make the best out of his bounded life instead. He found every simple joy of life that would somehow make him smile and make other people smile, and that’s how he swept the board.

I miss my dad, and maybe that’s why those three persons remind me of my dad so much. They definitely do not share any similarity in terms of physical, but they do share things in common; they are all the kind of person who doesn’t use rage and anger as their weapon.
It’s very rare to see my dad pull an angry face, he’s the kind of person who instead of chosing to use his energy to lower the car window to shout angrily and give a finger to those sickly annoying motorcycles or metrominis that always overtake his road, his energy is used to lower the car window to give a smile and a thumb up for all those people who kindly let him pass his way. He’s the kind of person who faces his client’s exasperating complaints with a patient smile while listening to all their needs. He ceases anger with smile and, most of the time, it does work.

I remember one day when we’re driving, there’s a car that pass his way so sudden it almost hit our car. My dad had to brake hard to avoid the car. He was a bit pissed, I know, but he did not crack up, he let the car passed through his way while taking a deep breath. I was the one who got a bit angry that time and could not stop protesting his weak respond. My dad only smiled and said, ‘Sisie, it’s not a weak respond, think of it as an act of kindness, as a good deed, probably the driver of that car really had to do that because his wife is about to give birth and therefore he needed to be in a very rush, or maybe his daughter is dying and he really needed to be there on the side of his daughter or… whatever. I mean… we never really know, don’t we? Had we chosen to unleash the rage, it would only make things worse for him. Besides, it did not do us too much of a harm if we chose to yield a bit, instead, it might help other people. And believe me, any act of kindness always come round again, it’ll always be returned. Every time I do my act of kindness I always remember my family and I always remember you, If I do kindness to other people, I know that other people will also be kind to my daughter.’

I was touched knowing that he really do care about me so much, but I had to admit that I never really believed on such thing. I mean, what kind of logical explanation could explain the possibility of my dad’s act of kindness, no matter how kind and touching it might be, would be straightly returned to his daughter? None, I believe.

However, at the very same day, I had to go back to Jakarta. Everyone who knew me really well of course how bad my spatial sense is, so at that time, after my third visit to Gambir, I still got lost. But fortunately, everyone there had been so nice and helpful I managed to find the right gate and took the right train to Depok. Of course I still thought that it had nothing to do with ‘the act of kindness’ philosophy my dad told me, not until I finally got to the train. The train was a bit crowded, so I had to stand. It was a bit difficult because my backpack was a bit heavy and I carried two small paper bags on both of my hands, so practically I could not be able to take a grip on anything to keep me steady. And it was a bit annoying too, because there, right in front of me, there was a young man who was pretending to sleep, so that he would not have any obligation to give his seat for me. I mean, not that I was expecting for him to give his seat or anything, but his faking was so obvious it really nauseated me. But suddenly there was a pat on my hand, I looked and there was an old woman with worn-out clothes and a shabby look, sat right next to that young man, she was smiling and said ‘Mbak, turun dimana? Kasihan… sepertinya bawaannya berat sekali… mari saya pegangin bawaannya, mbak. Saya masih jauh turunnya, di stasiun Bogor.’

I was touched. Well… maybe it was because I looked so pitiful at that time, or could be… because my dad’s right.

And I think I envy my mum, she’s a darn lucky woman.


-sie-

*A title of a song about dad sung by the Cardigans in the Emmerdale album.

Meaningless Mumble

This is sickening... i just had a chat with some guy who tagged me at YM who said that Punk is the root of all evil, came from antichrist movement who was eventually became the root of all moral degradation or whatsoever including free sex, the anarchy movement, even nudism!
-sigh- hopeless... and he implicitly said that i knew nothing about that so just shut up and listen...

kalo orang2 kaya gini semua, enlightment apaan juga yang bisa ngebantu ya.. :(

anyway, better go home now i guess, males juga ngebahas yang kaya gini, i have a final test tomorrow so i guess i'll better burn and torture myself with that shocking pink semantics book, plus... there are two topics that i'm in the process of writing now for my blog, i guess i have to finish those two so that i can post it here.

*masih pusing kepala*
-sie-

oh iya... a flash info... me and hany had a big upcoming project, tapi masih raw banget
check this out and tell me what u think (jadi ceritanya gw mo menjual seseorang...engg... sesuatu... atau apapun itu lah..)

Rino the Rhino
Adult entertainment all in one package
He can dance, he can sing.. and he's a one way ticket to pleasure island.

Gimana? kira2 kalo gw pake tag begitu dah cukup menjual belum ya?
atau ada ide lain?
hmm.. desperately needs money... -_-'

Je Cherche Un Homme

Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme
Un Pierre, ou Paul, un Jacques, ou Tom
Mais n'importe comment il se nomme
S'il est un homme, homme, homme

Je n'exige pas un ???
Qui s' ??? dans les salons
Ni un type fort comme un Samson
Pourvu que j'ai un «mate » un ???

Il n'a pas besoin d'être un milliardaire
Qu'il soit beau, non ça m'est égale
Il n'a pas besoin d'être un grand lumièrestar du cinéma, ni prince royal

Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme
Qu'il s'appelle Pierre, ou Paul, ou Tom
Pourvu qu'il donne son maximum

Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme
Doesn't have to be prince or movie-star
A Texas oilman, or a French marquis
Doesn't have to be handsome as a picture
An ordinary guy is allright with me

Je cherche un hommme, un homme, un homme
Qu'il s'appelle Pierre, ou Paul, ou Tom
Pourvu qu'il donne son maximum

Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme
Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme

*Eartha Kitt*

tidak tidak... saya tidak mengerti bahasa Perancis... tapi lagu ini menyenangkan sekali :)
setelah kemarin menonton To Wong Foo, thanks for everything, yang sangat hillarious itu, saya jadi ingat lagu ini lagi... :) ahahaha... padahal waktu dulu jaman2nya kerja di ak'sa ra denger lagu ini bisa sampai empat-lima kali dalam satu shift... hahahaha... ah senangnya.. ada yang punya MP3 atau CD nya lagu ini nggak? mau dong...

Gelangputih buat mutihin kulit...

Sekarang bergaya 'bling-bling' tu lagi keren ya? Yah well... nggak tau dan terserah juga sih. Gw nggak gitu peduli... kalo gw ngerasa berhak make baju apa aja yang gw suka ya berarti orang lain juga lah. Saya sih senang2 saja lah, kadang2 menyenangkan juga jalan2 ke mal dan ngeliat bermacam2 AGJ yang berlomba2 dandan paling 'bling-bling' dengan celana hipster gede banget n anting2 kinclong nan gede... dengan kulit yang makin lama makin tan aja... mungkin disekolahnya mereka sengaja ngisengin guru supaya dapet alesan dijemur di lapangan upacara biar kulitnya jadi makin coklat ala artis2 hip hop n r 'n b luar negeri...
Tapi ada yang sedikit ngeganggu... salah satu temen gw kebetulan bergaya kaya gitu juga. No offense ya man, beneran gw ga keberatan kok sama fashion statement lo... cuma mau ngebenerin dikit aja. Inget gak waktu gw tanya kenapa lo pake gelang putih di tangan kanan lo? Trus lo ngeliat gw dengan tatapan aneh seolah pengen bilang 'ini sisie knapaaa lagi nanya pertanyaan ga penting kaya gitu... ya suka2 gw lah mau pake apaan...' trus sambil ketawa kecil lo jawab asal2an... 'Ga pa pa... putih... biar bisa mutihin kulit. Lagian emang kenapa sih?'
Trus gw cuma senyum kecil aja.
Sebenernya lo pake gelang putih bukan buat mutihin kulit kok, apalagi buat gaya2an... tapi karena ini .

Umm... tapi nggak juga kali ya... mungkin gelang putih yang lo pake emang bukan buat yang ada di link diatas.. tapi murni buat mutihin kulit... bener nggak?

-sisie-

A spell of ranting...

Alright, so it’s all started here… I hate it, really hate it when I see people’s eyes judging me and telling me how much I’m becoming just like you. It felt like I’m nothing but your shadow, cannot think, cannot do anything without you, and based everything that I do upon your standards. It really sucks.
At first I didn’t think much about it, I thought it was just in my head. Well, surely everyone who knew me for just two or three years ago or even less would realized how I had changed… well… a bit… recently, and it all started when I decided to be with you. Alright… so I became more fearless and spontaneous I guess, I’m not afraid to try, to do or to state anything that I believe or I want. I’m more outspoken about my thoughts and I don’t feel reluctant to defy anything that I despise. Well, my life became less organize here and there, of course, but surely we cannot expect all to be perfect, right? But not just all that, so they see me as sort of… degrading in terms of their values, their own superficial values imposed upon their mindless doctrinated head expecting everybody to adapt and conform upon it. So they use the term ‘degrading’ because they see me, whom they had always been addressed using the boring adjective of nice, smoked cigarettes, got drunk and stoned celebrating my birthday, using pot every now and then, not blushed when asked whether I am still a virgin or not while easily said no, and spared some public displays of affections. And really, I don’t pretty much give shites about the term they use to address me, I mean… who cares about their superficial standards and values, which they themselves do not particularly aware and care to know why they had chosen to adapt and conform to those values. Compare to those mindless doctrinated bunnies, I am bloody proud to be called ‘degrading’ upon their standards and values, well at least I know that I do not walk hand in hand, and placed in the running counter with them. But, so here’s the bloody but, but ladies and gentlemen, what bothers me is because they address all those sort of changes of mine, sort of degrading whatsoever their terms might use happened to me, are all in a manner conforming with you! Are all because of you.
Well, I cannot say that it’s totally wrong, though. I mean… it’s true that you had always encouraged me to be not afraid to say the hell everything I want to say, the hell everything in my thought and in my mind, to resist everything that I found despising, to be not worried in being whatever I want to be, in standing for what I believe, as well as learning to stop listening to those people who had always tried to make be something they want me to be. You always smiled at me and made me feel that I don’t have to be anyone else when I can be my own self and always be accepted. Now, I can say that those things that had changed me, from the ‘sisie’ with the boring adjective of nice to the ‘sisie’ they would pleasantly dislike and whom they’ve always talked behind her back. I am not afraid to come out of my shell and say that religion, for instance, is nothing but stupidity unless you’re not afraid to drag yourself out of the doctrines and dogmas and not feeling hesitant to seek for the true meaning out of it, if there’s any, of course, and how I believe that the term ‘free’ sex needs to be redefined, and so on and so forth. And yes, it does really bother me, that those people, those annoying empty-headed bunnies see all the thoughts that came out of my head, all the things that I did, weren’t my actual self, were nothing except another doctrines you gave me in order to cut my shape so that I could fit in with yours. It’s sort of annoying, because to me, the process to come out of the shell took a really long and painstaking process of thinking and re-thinking, questioned and re-questioning whether it’s the right thing or not. I even let myself be confused on determining the so-called ‘right’ in whatever terms it might be cited. As well as collected all my courage piece by piece and let go my… err… let’s just call it primordial love… in having my freedom to be myself. And now that I found my freedom and myself, they just ignorantly say that it’s not even myself? What do they know about myself?? But really, even though it is annoying, it’s even more bothering because they acted as if they’re trying to save myself and tried so much to make me realize that I do nothing but fooling myself…
So at one particular of time one of my friends told me that there’s this guy, this guy that I used to regard as ‘friend’ as well, told her to tell me that I really should stop playing little sisie miss philosophical with all those so called defiant philosophical thoughts about everything, and that I should just be ‘sisie’. Furthermore he even said that I should find my life back, otherwise I would get lost if then I break up with you, since I wont have anything to hold on to. WTF???? What does he know about myself? Who is he has the right to tell me that I am not myself this way? What kind of ‘my life’ does he think I should find back? It was so annoying, really. I’ve managed to ask him about these things, actually, but I found it was really pointless because he only came up with those circling and feeble reasons while giving me those annoying pity look saying that I really have to save myself before I fell too far.
And not so long after that, while I still felt discontented about it, I realized that even your friends considered me as your resemblance or whatsoever, or the ‘sisie’ who does not have any ‘free will’. Once I remember that I was in a conversation with one of them while you weren’t there. Quiet surprisingly with his so-called capacity of thinking, when I stated my opinion, although coated with those chatty quips, he replied by saying ‘what do you know anyway, dear? I bet all the things you know were from him.’ What the… I thought. So apparently, it seemed that I don’t have any knowledge at all and I am incapable of stating my opinion if you’re not there.
And it went all the way, really. When I talked with one of my friends about the possibility of the truth there in the religions, she implicitly said that I dared to speak that way because you are an atheist and of course I would stand on your side. Hell, really even if you weren’t an atheist, my opinion towards that would remain the same. Even all the simple and trivial things, like my activity now in ISAFIS, where I often go to embassies and stuff, they linked all with you, you, you. They said ‘where you’ve been, sisie?’ and when I said that I just got back from the Russian Center of Culture, they said ‘Really? But why? Ah … of course… with him?’ aarrgghh… it really sucks.
And you know what even more annoying? I’m sick and tired of explaining myself to them. What do I owe to them to explain that I bloody well also read books thus justify all my knowledge, and all their boring adjectives addressed to me were something that I used to laugh at behind their back because bloody hell I wasn’t like what they think of me… and so on and so forth… So let just all those people think whatever they want to think about me, I just don’t care. If they want to think of me as a dumb blonde who’s trying too hard to fit with her smart-ass boyfriend, I don’t give a shit.
Hell… why do I even bother about all these… ahh… probably because of this stupid PMS… hormones, hormones… blame it on the hormones…


-sisie-