Sanctuary is where your actual self is

Did you ever wonder why, whenever you are at home, where supposedly it is where your heart is, and that it's no longer a place, but a group of people, you still feel like you are not in touch with yourself? Somehow, even at home, the best place on earth to rest your bones, you still think that there is someone else inside of you that's screaming, because it is yet to be fulfilled?

I'd like to believe that I love my home---I do. If there is anything I learned from being with myself in the past 22 years, it's that I know how to be content with myself, wherever I am. And yet sometimes, even when I'm at home, at the place where I'm supposed to be most comfortable in, I'm still not myself. I'm still someone else who has this pressure to defend the me who's sitting on the back, not wanting to be visible to anyone.

People told me that maybe I just like to be alone. I like to be with myself so much because solitude (not loneliness) gives me a time to listen to me and only me. I did not have to think, did not have to listen to anyone else except for me. I have this huge ego to be listened to and I'm going to annoy the hell out of people if I demand them to listen to everything I said. This is why sometimes I feel like misunderstood. This is why sometimes, even in a sea of people, I still feel so alone. Because I have so much to say, and yet I know nobody would hear it so I just swallow them and let it live in me.

There is a place that I love the most in my city--it's so close to the hustlin' and bustlin' of the city and yet it just feels so comfortable... Like I don't have to worry about anything here. Like I will be fine in this place. Like this is an entirely different universe, and it's the only place where the people are nice and the people won't hurt me. It's the place where I can be okay. It's a sanctuary for the restless, and even if, perhaps, every single person in this place are lonely wanderer like I am, it is fine. Because that's what sanctuary is. It's the place where the restless find themselves---and be okay with it.

So if you ever happen to be around Starbucks Kinokuniya Plaza Senayan after hours, do take a look at the small table behind the straw bar. I should probably be there, writing the same random posts here like I don't give two cents about the rest of the world.

I hope you find whatever you've been looking for

 

I'm not a very good talker, and just slightly better at writing, but, even though I know you have no idea that you'd pop up in this page, for like, ever, let me do it here. Because you deserve the words. The words I'm not good enough to speak directly to you. The words that would be lost into oblivion unless I pour them out here.

I believe that congratulations is in order, so, Congratulations. Everyone told me how happy you looked that day, and they were right. I wanted to deny it, but I couldn't, and you have every rights to be happy. It was your big day. That day, I didn't even look the way I used to, but, that particular day, it wasn't about me.

Growing up wasn't always a good time, and you out of all people sure know that. Having more than one sisters wasn't usually a blessing--well, it's a slippery slope, because sometimes it's the best thing I'd ever imagined and sometimes it's a curse that I was born with. But what nobody ever told me before yesterday was, no matter how tumultuous our relationship is, I still wish you to be happy. I still wish you good. I still wish you joy, and luck, and happiness that might have been robbed out of you. And more than anything else, I still wish you to be a better person for everybody else, even though you probably weren't nice enough to me. I know you can do that. I know you are. I don't need proof, because I have this blind faith that you are genuinely good, and I want to believe that.

So, yeah. Congratulations. I hope you're happy. I know you are. And I hope that this kind of happiness isn't fleeting, but rather, everlasting. I hope that it'll only be magnified with time. I will never wish you any less than that.

Midnight Memories

No, I'm not sad. I just really miss you and I hope that one day you'll find all of these writings and know that they are about you. And I hope that when that day comes, it wouldn't be too late for any one of us.

Race Equality

Over the weekend, everyone in the world is celebrating the 5-4 ruling for marriage equality by the Supreme Court of the United States of America. It was a big win, because even though several countries around the world has recognised gay rights way ahead of SCOTUS, no other countries have claimed to be a free country more than the Uncle Sam himself. This weekend, basically, #lovewins.

Even though marriage equality is still pretty much a long shot in my home country, I have to say that I do support gay rights. I think that people shouldn't have to be forbidden from marrying people that they love, and that the law doesn't have to go hand-in-hand with anyone's religious values. The truth is, even though I am quiet religious, I believe that people need to shove their religious values up their own butts and keep it to themselves.

However, there are many other equality issues that were overlooked in this very weekend. Gender equality. Equalities that have something to do with disabilities. With race. The truth is, perhaps, like almost half of America as mirrored by the number of judges voting "No" to marriage equality, the world is still not ready for equality. It might even be possible that we are not created equal. Some are better than the other. After all, we did come from a majority of patriarchal cultures.

But let's talk about race, for instance

Seeing all of these equality issues buzzing before me, I can't help but reflect on who I really am and the boxes that I will be put into should all of these issues remain a utopia. I am a pure blood Malay race who still live in the land that belonged to my ancestors. In fact, my race inhabits most of the areas in the country and are the majority every where you go in the archipelago. Like many other Malayans, I have tawny skin and black hair and average height. I'm Muslim, and I consider myself to be moderately religious with libertarian preferences. Does that speak anything about me? Well, in this wild, wild world, of course it does.

I work in an environment where, strangely enough, I was the minority. Things are different outside of this office though, sure, but right here, I'm the minority. I have found myself in numerous meetings where I was the only one without light, yellow skin and small eyes and an Eastern Asian-style last names. I have dined in a table where everyone was happy to order pork while I have to convince myself that it's okay to eat as long as I only have the salad. My bosses are all of the same race. They were all male, and that's only acceptable because it's man's man's world (still). I don't think that it really necessarily means that they are smarter or work harder than the rest who did not fulfill that criteria, but, who am I to say? I'm not the boss. Yet.

My country did not have a beautiful history about racial equality. There had always been some kind of discrimination. It's probably something that was rooted from the fact that we were not exposed to much diversity from early on, that even when the laws that work in different ways for certain groups of people have been cleared, we are still living in fear of other races, and perhaps even worse, ethnicity. The fact that racial equality is an even more sensitive issue than marriage equality is a jarring truth, and it seems that the law wants people to do it not in writing. It's like saying, Well, the truth is, people were born racists. I guess there's a truth in there, yes. But there's a difference in being a racist and not giving people the opportunity in spite of their color. I guess I don't mind the former, but I actually mind the latter. The former is being conservative, while the latter is being a plain jerk.

The truth of the matter is, people are all the same in the world. With only very small number of deviation, we're all made from the same flesh and bones. Our blood is red, and we were built from the same tissues. Our biological systems work in the same manners. We are all 72% water. We bleed. We were all born from someone. Discrimination over someone's race is something that I believe is a form of injustice. It is not a First World Problem. It is a World Problem. And I am ashamed that, two years ago, when I had the chance to speak in front of hundreds of students about indigenous rights, I thought it was a problem that only countries with racial issues would understand, but it's not. I don't think I have ever been more unwise than I was in that very forum.

Am I writing this post to be furious about the world that we live in? Or am I writing this just to understand my situation better? I'm not sure which one is my true intention, but earlier, I thought that all of racial discrimination is a historical injustice that we still suffer because God knows why. I know that there's not a lot that we can do, because, if being a racist is a God-given basic instinct that everyone was born with, what can we do? However, I believe that by knowing that everyone was created equally, and how colors are skin deep and physical features are only as deep as the eyes can see, we can help to make the world a more comfortable place. A place that we can be proud to call home and introduce to our offspring. A place where we're not constantly dreaming of another place that can accommodate our wishes and aspirations.

Jim & Pam

Jim Halpert ruined me for every other guy out there.

You'll be on my mind, my dear destiny

You are the one who constantly come and go in my days.
There are days when you are just a memory, and I like you better those days.
There are days when the memory is just so vivid and clear
and that's when I have to hold back my tears.

You never let me enter your life.
Never once, not even for a split second.
Someone was living inside you
she breathes in you, she thinks in you
and you love her.

I don't know how it happened, but there you are now.
Out and free, vacancy in your mind, your body, your soul.
Breathing the foreign air that wasn't used to be yours
filling your lungs
keeping the emptiness bearable.

You look okay.
You look like you.
Not the way I remember you, but I don't look the way you'd remember me either.
You look bigger. Stronger. Mightier.
You look like you could be the king of inventions, and you don't even know it.

I know I said I've let you go.
I know I've said I would never have another word written about you.
I know.
I just couldn't do it.
Not when it's about you.

One day, you will be my destiny.
But until that day comes, you'll be on my mind
my heart
my soul
And I wouldn't ever let you go.
Not again.

Riptide

I am not a girl destined to be at ease with water

When I was five, I almost drowned

and maybe it scarred me for what seems to be my whole life

I like the bright sun

The sticky, salty air on the beach

The fishy aroma inhaled during the day

I like the colours on the giggly girls' cheeks

The blushing of the apples

The bronzed, sun kissed skin 

I like the sound of the waves

The fishermen's whistling

The small coffee shops overlooking the sea

The laid-back, casual conversations

But I was sitting there on the boat

Just slightly below the surface

The blue so blue it bled my eyes

The grey so grey it blinded my hearts

If all of these things are to be found only at the sea

Will happiness ever find its way towards me?

I Say A Little Prayer For Me

I wish I could deny myself the fact that we are the choices that we made. I wish I could say that, no, we are not defined by them. Those decisions cannot define me, because they are only occasionally made, sometimes I can be right or wrong, and I shouldn't be defined by who I am at a one-time occasion. But the truth is, I can't. I can't deny the fact that sometimes I'm right and sometimes I'm not, and that sometimes I'm stupid, sometimes I'm smart. My life cannot be defined just by the smart decisions, because a smart life isn't about a life so full of good decisions. A smart life should be a life where I know how to live with myself, and have a good sleep at night, knowing that I've done myself enough good to the me who keeps on feeding and feeling my emotions.

The truth is, we are the result of the choices we made. You wouldn't be sitting on that desk on your hopelessly dull office if you decided not to come to the interview several months ago. You wouldn't have a purple hair if you didn't tell your colourist to do so. The truth is, bitter as it seems, you are responsible for your own (un)happiness. It's not always destiny playing dice on you, no. Sometimes it's you sabotaging your way into happiness, and nobody else is to blame for it. You can be manipulative to yourself, you know? Sometimes I lie to myself in more times than I am being honest, and if that wasn't a depressing enough fact, I don't know what is.

Being true to yourself will set you free. It will give you a good night sleep. It will send you to a nirvana of sweet dreams. It will give you the chance to make friends with yourself. Isn't that nice to hear? To know that you haven't ruined your life beyond repair?

Staying Sad and Moving to Happier Places

People can't stay sad forever, yes. They can, but they shouldn't.

But when they're not ready, should they be forced to move to a happier place?

Cold Weather

This holiday post has been long overdue--I know, not that I intended to--and it's even started to smell like spring somewhere (where?) But I owe you this in a way. I've been gone, and when I came back, I felt like writing a lot of sad and melancholic posts instead of sharing some bits of my holiday to you... Where were my manners?!

So, yes, I went to the US of A, as you've probably heard people whispered. It was more for the Christmas rather than New Year's Eve, as I didn't even get a proper new year celebration this year. It all started from the East Coast, which meant that I could play Taylor Swift's Welcome To New York a couple hundred times and felt her excitement about the city *cue T-Swift new album on the stereo*

What do I think about New York? Well, try what don't I think about New York! You know how I always have this life-long fascination towards London? Well, it hardly compared to how excited I am about New York City. Every street, every building, every monument, seem to mean something for me, the ever-crazy fangirl of rom-coms based in New York. Empire State Building will always be Sleepless in Seattle, and Bryant Park in winter will forever look like the witness of Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack's impossibly cute love story in Serendipity. It's so interesting. So wild. And I couldn't seem to catch my breath with every city's landmark passed before me.

I love East Coast for how it feels like the laid-back Europe that it is, but I strongly hate the climate. Like normal winters, it was constantly dark and bitter cold there--not to mention in danger of rain and possibly snow. I have terribly dry and flaky facial skin even at home in Indonesia, so could you imagine how wonderful it would be staying in the East Coast for me?! Well, luckily, I was smart enough to visit Sephora on my first day in New York, and the BA generously put me on a proper winter skincare regime that I learned to grasp quickly. She used (of course) very expensive stuffs, but I ran to CVS immediately and get my own version of the products that helped. As a result, when everyone in the tour complained about how flaky their lips and skin became, I didn't experience the same thing (even though I couldn't do anything about my frizzy hair, I'm just glad it's still kind of short) I did, however, complain about how I catch a cold and could not stop sneezing and coughing.

In that sense, I owe a huge gratitude to Josie Maran Argan Oil Light, Clinique Moisture Surge Extended Thirst Relief moisturizer (A gel formula that my skin drinks like serum. This is basically magic to my dry skin!) Aveeno 24 Hour Moisturising Lotion for my body (because I'm an idiot for taking super-long hot showers as it dried my skin even more) and at night time, I practically slathered myself in Egyptian Magic Cream. Oh, and Cherry Chapstick all throughout the day. I bought it originally because of that Katy Perry song (I know, I'm so cliche) but then surprised at how awesome it is at $2!!!!! Sometimes I long for the day my local beauty brands back home could be so cheap and work so well at the same time.

Compared to the first leg of the trip where I spent my days and nights trying to bundle myself up in so much layers and inhaling faux fur from my angora shawl, my West Coast trip was so much better. I can't believe how bitter it is to swallow up the pride that I had several years ago when I told everyone that I'd never been interested to go to LA because it's so shallow and pop and plastic... Well, the younger-than-21-years-old me knows nothing, my friend. Because the 21-year-old me definitely thought that LA is really nice. A really nice place to be--if not live. I took this picture in front of the Tiffany & Co. Beverly Hills Golden Triangle as an aspiration, because, why not? Maybe 40-year-old me would've been able to wear one of his designs on my finger, who knows? (Amen to that, please)

Now, I may be 21 years old, and have been to all of the Disneyland theme parks in the world (well not really, never been to Orlando yet, but, in the American continent) and knows full well of the tricks to be able to enjoy the rides better (Single Rider lines, Fast Pass tickets before everything, early lunch, etc.) but I'm still so excited about it mainly because of the new characters added to their festivities. I spent the entire Christmas Day in Disneyland fighting the cold wind despite sunlight (thanks, Cali winter) yelling at Olaf balloons and whining about the long queues at photo sessions with Elsa and Anna. I got myself an Olaf plush doll (because I collect plush dolls, in case you didn't know) and a Maleficent headband. I think I scared off some kids while wearing it all day, because I saw some little girls look at me nervously as if I was an evil stepmother. Well guess what, little girls? The older you get, the more you'd understand how Maleficent is the closest thing to real-human experience Disney has ever made. And they call me an awful big sister because I tell the truth. *sigh*

The highlight of my LA trip, though, is the Universal City. THIS IS AS SHALLOW AS LA GETS, AMIRITE?

Well, sure. But as a Hollywood enthusiast, life cannot get any better than a visit to the Universal City and getting on that Studio Tour ride hosted by Jimmy Fallon. Yes, he is my ideal kind of husband, but that is not why I love Universal City. I love it because of the diversity of its characters--you can practically see Bart Simpsons walk around Megatron and Minions side-by-side and not feel weird about it. The day I came to Universal City was what the Brits call 'Boxing Day', which is the day after Christmas, and The Mindy Project was shooting that day. Of course I didn't get to see my long-lost Indian big sister Mindy Kaling, but I went passed Stage 27, where they were filming, and I was hysterical. Not really proud of the way I acted that day, but, that was my experience, and I thought I'd share it with you because I know you guys accept me just the way I am and I really love you for that *smooches*

Okay, so this post isn't complete without sharing my thoughts about Las Vegas. I admit that I'm not really a wild soul, and it wasn't like I get to do anything crazy because I was there with my family, but I think I wouldn't enjoy it too much anyway even though I wasn't. Maybe it's just me hating the sticky casino air thick with alcohol and cigarette smoke everywhere I go, but I'm just not into a place where it's constantly evolving in such materialistic way. I didn't really enjoy Dubai, didn't love Vegas, and I suspect I wouldn't enjoy Macau that much (but, what do I know? I was wrong about LA)

Another bucket list ticked off during my trip: GRAND CANYON! (The other one is Disneyland, because it's been an obsession of mine to visit every single Disneyland in all the continents in the world)

The Grand Canyon is a magnificent work of art that clearly wasn't man-made. It's not rocket science for me to believe in the Higher Power while I was here; in fact, it was rather very spiritual to be there. There's a lot of Native Americans working here, which I think is quiet nice of them to acknowledge their existence rather than shoving them off out of the picture. It's hot topic to be talking about racial discrimination these days, but I liked what I see here---and the fact that there was just so many Chinese tourists coming to the US was overwhelming. I mean, wasn't there extreme poverty in China just a few years ago?? Now they massively travel to the US wearing the latest Marc Jacobs coat?? What a great nation it is. 

Okay, so you probably wanna ask me, which city do I like the most? Well, I'm kind of sad to announce that it had to be the last city that I visited that was my favourite. Do you know how my heart beats for London? Well, it beats almost the same way while I was in San Francisco. Better weather, though. Even though it can be foggy and terribly windy, at least it's not constantly under the threat of wet rains everyday. It's really, really nice to be here. They charge you for every shopping bags you need, but at least they have lower tax than New York. I like how open to LGBT Frisco is, with rainbow flags proudly present in many houses and buildings around the city, and, oh, those steep roads... It can be quiet an exercise just strolling around the shops at Union Square. 

And that selfie above, taken right in the middle of the Union Square's infamous Christmas tree on my last day of the holiday, is how much I am willing to ridicule myself to take a bare-faced selfie. I never let myself go bare-faced in the winter because I will look homeless, so I swore by my Sephora Cream Lip Stain in Always Red or my trustworthy pinky coral MAC LE Archie lipstick in Betty Bright (on a bad day, it makes me look like Nicki Minaj, though, so I'm not always so fond of it). Also, I learned to put some colour on my cheeks to look more alive because winter skin could look so dull (and mind you, I'm MAC NC30). So you see, it was a worthwhile experience to be in this winter holiday, beauty-wise, even though it left me longing to stay in that kind of weather, because it never let my face shiny so much.

Now, it's no longer time for me to keep talking about such an ancient holiday story (I've even used up that Josie Maran organ oil because I love it so much and I'm so galau where I could repurchase it). In case you skipped this post all the way to this end, I would like to sum it for you: if you only got a limited time, spend it in SF. I'll leave you with the view from the Peak Point, and I dare you not to swear you'd go there someday the second you have the chance.