To long for..

after receiving an email and a series of offline messages from 2 friends (after here being more of a causal conjunction, rather than a chronological one), suddenly this song popped up in my mind, and most probably will be lingering there for the rest of the day

Homesick

I lose some sales
and my boss won't be happy
but I can't stop listening to the sound
of two soft voices blended in perfection
from the reels of this record that I found

every day there's a boy in the mirror
asking me
what are you doing here
finding all my previous motives
growing increasingly unclear

I traveled far and I burned all the bridges
I believed as soon as I hit land
all the other
options held before me
will wither in the light of my plan

so I lose some sales
and my boss won't be happy
but there's only one thing on my mind
searching boxes underneath the counter
on a chance that on a tape I'd find

a song for
someone who needs somewhere
to long for

homesick
cause I no longer know
where home is

:'(

Silver lining on the cloudy Jakarta sky

List of 5 annoying events during flood in Jakarta would be expected and unchallenging. In the spirit of seeing the glass half full (and seeing the water level in Pintu Air Manggarai as half emptyJ), I roamed about every corner of my soon-to-be-repressed memory (you know, the Freudian defense mechanism against unpleasant/traumatic memory) of the 5-days-flood and proudly wrote down these mementos. Yes people, I, the self-acclaimed cynic has managed to find five good things during the 5 days flood (from this point forward will be dubbed the Flood, note the capital F). This list stood as an evident that self-concept is a very liquid matter.

1. Swim Boxer, Swim!!
   Sorry, cannot resist using the outdated, overused and uncalled for Forrest Gump quote there. Anyway…it has been on my “things that I should know and make a conscious effort to find out about” list for years: Can Boxer Swim? This burning question was finally answered. On the 1st day of Flood, the electricity was cut out and the prospect of TV-less days led us- me sis and me self- to run to Boxer as our main (and sole!) source of entertainment. (Well, we didn’t literally run to him, as sudden movement towards Boxer may lead to a broad range of result, from mild scratch on skin to multiple lacerations; depending on how sudden the movement is and how cranky Boxer is at the moment. You get the idea.). As night creeps and darkness fall, boredom grows increasingly high. Accustomed to prime time sinetrons and nighttime infortainment, we crave for something to make fun of during the night, as television was out. Boxer, the unsuspecting victim, underwent some with-force-but-affectionate poking, ear-pulling and nudge on the behind, courtesy of yours truly. It’s interesting to see how much annoyingness can he put up with, before Boxer snaps and starts being vicious and tooth-y. But the poking has grown old by the 2nd day, so we need to find new ways of keeping ourselves entertained (and sane!). I took the bold decision of conducting the experiment (i.e. tossing Boxer to the water), bearing in mind that dogs naturally can swim (so no harm done here, animal-rights activists can rest assured!). The experiment was conducted twice (adhering to design of experiment principal of replications and repeatability) and both yielded a pleasant result. To say “Boxer can swim” would be an understatement, he is a natural! When we first brought him into the water in the front porch where he can still put his feet on the ground under the water, Boxer is a bit skittish and reluctant. But when we released him to open water, he bravely paddled (with his short, chunky and slightly-bent legs) his way through the almost-waist-deep water and swam towards the other side of road. Albeit his eyes ware “melotot”, the deer-in-head-light expression was constantly in his face (you know, that raised-eyebrow people have after getting Botox shot. Well since dogs have no eyebrow, Boxer has the dog equivalent of that expression), Boxer still made it through the flood! One brave mutt, he is J
2. OshKosh Re-Surfacing
   When I was still in SD, we kept this mysterious black turtle on this fishpond in our back yard. For those of you who couldn’t tell from the look, turtle is not the most playful pet. All OshKosh (as we later called him, for no logical reason) did was ate and stayed in the shade, so I never had any chance for some pet-master bonding/quality time. Which is why I didn’t exactly panic my head off when being told that OshKosh has ran away from the pond (bit of an adventurer/suicidal he is) years ago. Years went by and the memory of OshKosh fluttered away from my mind. Until the 2nd day of Flood, where OshKosh suddenly resurfaced on our backyard (which has turn into some sort of pond itself)!! He poked his little black, yellow-striped, snake-like head out of the water and I can imagine him whispers “Me is still alive!!” in a dragging, low-pitched voice that turtles normally have in cartoons (you know, such as the classic The Hare and The Turtle). All these years, we thought that he no longer exist, all the sorrow and the hole he left in my heart were undone by the sight of his head poking out of the water. No, actually he poked his head to find oxygen to inhale. And I couldn’t care less whether that reptilian creature is still alive. Geez, not even the greatest wordsmith can inject any drama to this mundane non-event.
3. The Picture of Dorian Gray
   Work and tiredness caused by work left no time for me to read. And I really love to read. The dreadfullll, boringggg, droninggg days of Flood gave me puh-lenty of time to be in touch with my literature side (if there is any). The first 100 pages of this Oscar Wilde’s take on Victorian politeness and people’s obsession of youth and superficiality has been read and pondered upon. The interesting (but sometime can be overly scrutinizing) discourses from Lord Henry occupied my mind on those sleepy afternoons, successfully putting a halt (a temporary one, at least) to the obsession about the Flood and the power outage. Normally I would prefer American contemporary literature with its brevity, forthrightness and colloquialism (latest piece read: The Burned Children of America, a collection of short stories by young American authors; compiled by Zadie Smith. Some of the stories are v.v.interesting FYI), but sometimes British somewhat-classic literature is good for the mind, apparently. At parts it can be dragging and overly elaborated and v.v.v.wordy but to put in perspective, Wilde is like a short and snappy conversationalist compared to Shakespeare. And Shakespeare is like the greatest poet/playwright of all time. So I guess wordy equals great. (hahaha what sort of weak syllogism is this??). Another entry on my “things that I should know and make a conscious effort to find out about” list is How to pronounce Wilde? (does one pronounce it with a weak ‘e’ or not? Like when one pronounces Ryan Phillipe as Ryan Phil-e-phee. Mind the cheesy, lame, teeny-bopper-ish choice of example) Resulting from this question is a sub-item on this list: Flood has given me time to look up Encyclopedia Americana and find out that it’s pronounced just like the adjective Wild. Heehehe boring dorkish stuff.
4. Un-appetizer
   The sight of brown water flowing about on your driveway (and let alone the things floating on the water!) isn’t the most appetizing sight of all. Which is why I didn’t eat much (and hopefully lose some weight) during the Flood. That, and because we didn’t have anything to eat anyway. No snacks, no proper breakfast, no fast food deliveries, strictly rice and veggies and whatever’s on the fridge and must be cooked immediately otherwise would rot. EWWW….
5. Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
   Those vacant days, nights, mornings, evenings during the Flood left my mind idle and free to wander. I think events like this, disasters, as the media has declared it, make one re-think about things in life. Family, worldly possession (*halah!*), neighborhood, social classes, environment, nature, and eventually about Life itself. How trivial and profound every matter can seem to be, when put opposite to Life. I find myself stuttered trying to put this thought into words.