Him: How do you like your coffee?
Me: Cold and creamy.
Him: How do you like your December?
Me: With you in it.

What a December to you? To me a December means.. a way too much time of self-loathing. December always means a last step to a new beginning, for it means a new year is about to come. December also means a family month, for it’s a christmast month. And while I’m not celebrating it religously, I still like the perks that come with it. A bunch of family movies, a holiday, a very cheerful malls. Truth be told, Ramadan didn’t quite bring that upbeat effect to malls. So, either way, an upcoming new year or a family month, December is upsetting because I don’t really have either of it.

My family lives in New York right now. My step father got a job there as a manager of something something (busted, I didn’t really paid attention to it) months ago so they’ve been living a new life there for almost 3 months now. Since I too got a job here -2 effing years contract for god sake!- so that means I’d be the one who stayed behind. I practically have no family right now, not the one that lives nearby at least.

For the new year thing… Well, it sucks because new year always brings this some sort of burden to my thoughts. You know, those contemplation thing? Yeah, I take it very seriously in this time of year. I hate my job, I don’t thing it’s going anywhere nor it will for the next two years. I live on a rented room that us Indonesian called ‘kost’. In reality it looks more like a very small storeroom rather than an actual room. My so-called-room consist only of one single bed-with no frame,of course- one small cabinet, one small desk, and a 14″ tv. My parents live in New York and I live in this rat hole, quite an ironic don’t you think?

Okay, back to where I hate new year. I’m hitting 30 next year. I know, I know, you may say that age is just a number, well let me tell you something, B.S. period. My friends are now living their life with their lovely kids, lovely husband, a steady job, and whatnot while mine filled with crappy job, crappy place, and a very crappy ex-boyfriend -yes, ex. Sadly, I don’t even have a crappy boyfriend. Only an ex. I know my birthday is still almost a year away but the very thought of turning 30 in this kind of life freaks me out. A lot. So every day closer to 2012 is a pain in the neck for me. A reminder how sucks my life is. I ha…
‘Hey, I’m sorry, is this your book?’ said a man who just poked my shoulder. I was going to give him my scarriest face for interrupting the monologue in my head, when suddenly our eyes met.

Him: I still think you are the funniest woman I ever known.
Me: And I still think you’re a cassanova with the worst jokes. You sucks real bad, mate.
Him: But you still love me?
Me: Yes. But I still love you.

Cheesy. Cliche. Really you can say whatever you want, but when our eyes met I felt a connection and I knew he felt it too. After we introduced each other, I got to know that he worked in a food company in south Jakarta, the one who produces the famous noodle in Indonesia. He’s 9 months younger than me and he has a smile you can’t easily forget. We hit on pretty much seamlessly, it’s as if we trully were meant for each other.

The family part was kinda tricky since my parents were thousands of miles away and his on a different city to where we lived. With a lot of efforts and a little technology, somehow we can settle the problem really well. My mother loves him. They’re Skype-ing every now and then, even when I wasn’t there. A somewhat miracle since she used to hate all the things regarding technology.

He’s some sort of a family man. His father died years ago and the older brother had long lived in Australia with his wife, so for years it’d been just the two of them, he and his mother. And even now they live in a different city and she already lives with her sister, he keeps visiting her almost every week. I met her two months after that fallen book incident. His mother is a standard-happy-family type of mother. Nice, sincere, religious, and very motherly. It’s hard not to like her. Miraculously, his mother seems to like me too.

One year nine months and sixteen days after we first met, on the same month I turned 31, we declared our love rightfully, under the name marriage. It’s been two months now and November is about to end. This year, I welcome December with a big grin on my face. I love my life. I have a decent house -small but decent- just outside the city, I’ve been promoted to a much less crappy position in the advertising company I worked -project effing manager, yay!- and I love my husband. I’m in a place where I never think I would two years ago. Finally I’m living the life I always wanted. I’m happy and I can’t wait to experience what life will bring next year. I had my life laid ahead of me. I lov…
“Oh.. Yess. Come on baby, do that again. Harder! Aaaaahhh” an erotic sound vaguely heard from the main room when I entered my house.
“Honey, is that you? Really, you have to stop watching those x-rated movies while I’m away. And what’s with the volum..” I froze. The sound didn’t come out of the movie. Not at all. It was as real as it can be.

to be continued…


Pentas Teater, Rumah Boneka

Beberapa waktu lalu saya menonton pementasan teater Rumah Boneka. Jujur, sampai saya datang ke venue saya ga tau pementasan ini tuh tentang apa dan siapa yang main. Baru pas di GKJ (Gedung Kesenian Jakarta) saya tau kalau ini adalah pementasan adaptasi novel klasik ‘a doll’s house’ dan pemeran utamanya tak lain adalah Chantal Della Concetta, reporter tv yang cantik itu.

Kesan pertama sehabis menonton teater itu adalah: dingin. Bukaaaan. Bukan pementasannya yang dingin. Tapi GKJ-nya yang dinginnya minta ampun. Itu selama pementasan 3 jam, kerjaan saya pindah-pindah posisi dan ngusap-ngusap kulit saking dinginnya. Kenyataan bahwa saya abis kehujanan sebelum sampai situ juga ga membantu. Untung saya ga mati beku 😐 (lebay)

Setelah urusan dingin itu bisa dikesampingkan, jujur saya kagum sama pementasan ini. Saya bukan ahli teater, cuma orang awam. Dan dari mata orang awam saya bisa bilang kalo pementasan ini sangat bagus. Untuk urusan setting, properti, dan tata panggung sih amat sangat jauh dengan pentas Laskar Pelangi yang sangat wah. Tapi saya suka akting-akting pemainnya dan suka alurnya yang walaupun lambat tapi klimaksnya dapet banget.

Mungkin ada beberapa dialog yang menurut saya agak aneh terjemahannya dan seharusnya bisa lebih disesuaikan dengan bahasa Indonesia, tapi itu ga terlalu mengganggu.

Terakhir, yang paling saya suka adalah akhir yang mengejutkan. Saya baru sadar dan mengerti inti dan tujuan dari cerita justru 15 menit di akhir pentas. Dan mungkin karena itu juga, pesannya -khususnya untuk saya yang sedikit feminis- kena banget.

Sayang sekali, mungkin karena hujan atau kurang publikasi, di hari terakhir pementasan -hari saya nonton- pengunjungnya tergolong sedikit. Padahal walaupun settingnya hanya satu, sederhana, dan ga heboh, ditambah pementasan 3 jam yang nyaris tanpa jeda, kalo kita bisa mengesampingkan itu semua, menurut saya pementasan ini layak banget untuk ditonton 🙂

“…saya mempunyai tugas yang tak kalah sakralnya dengan menjadi seorang ibu, tugas kepada diri sendiri!”

A Perfect Morning


I woke up to a heavy rain, with Misty playing in the background. Such a wonderful morning, I thought. I stared at the window in silence, letting my mind wondered somewhere. A pain realization started to creep as the thought of last night dream slowly came up. I was with him on that dream. I hope no John Mayer’s When You’re Dreaming With a Broken Heart suddenly played on the iPad. I need no help with this mellow mood, I already felt the sadness emerging. It egressed so naturally just as the rain outside did. I wasn’t going to give up my nice morning that easy, so I woke up from the bed, down to the little white cupboard on my room. No, I wasn’t going to take some drugs there, it’s hot chocolate that I looking for. A great doze of chocolate is always good in this kind of situation, you know, the heart thing, a broken one to be exact. I drank in silence.

While waiting the endorphin effects of the hot chocolate hitting, I turned to my precious gadget, searching for a ‘brighter’ song to lightened up the mood. Darned, I cursed. No wonder I was so fucked up, the whole playlist started to look as a guide-to-a-suicidal-act. In fact I should just put ‘the rope is in the storeroom, under the cupboard’ for the playlist title. I need to changed the playlist soon, I took a note on my mind. I then finished my cup and took my phone from the left drawer of the bed. Too many missedcall. I didn’t even need to look up the name to know who the caller was. I knew it’s him. It’s been like that for the past weeks. Never an incoming calls, though. I never picked up the calls. I prefer listening to those suicide playlist and cried then cursed rather than to listen him reasoning. The worse part of it was that the reason why I didn’t want to hear him speaking was not because I think he didn’t worth hearing, but because I knew I would forgive him if I got even just a slightest chance of talking to him. Silly, I know. All the right reason in the world, all of those logical thinking I always bragged of seems to have no effects on him. Always the softer side of me that won. Again and again. So did he.

Argh, I mumbled. This wasn’t the time for weakness, I shouldn’t second guess the decision I’d already made. I need to harden my heart, I wishpered, encouraging myself again. Really, there’s nothing to be considered. It was the right choice. Leaving him was the right thing to do.

Afraid of self-loathing lurking up, I pushed my ass out of the bedroom, looking for some leftovers to chew. I must have added some weight, I realized. I’ve been eating a lot lately. Eating was fun. Supposingly it was some friggin nice food, the process of eating would usually took my mind off things for awhile. It’s nice really. Do’oh. Who am I kidding? I almost finished the leftover pizza when suddenly I heard the sound of Norah Jones’s Come Away With Me. I followed the sound and recognized the source. It was from my neighbour. That crazy neighbour who likes to sing very loudly at 3 a.m. She never played any jazzy or even a little updated songs before, it was always religious, never ever something like this. Great, she decided to change her music preference 180′ this morning and out of nowhere she chose Norah Jones. What, suddenly the whole universe united to make this crazy conspiracy against me? Maybe God thought it would be funny. I imagined God said something like, ‘Hey, why don’t we tease that one over there? Come on, it will be funny.’ I felt really tired. I felt defeated. Maybe this morning really did belong to him. By that thought I dragged my body half-heartedly back to my bedroom. If God, universe, my heart, whatever it was, really that desperate for me to think of him this morning, than I would surrender. I came back to my bed and embraced all the feeling that was coming. Yes, I do love him and no pain in this world can erase those feelings I felt for him. Okay, I’ll come to see you, I thought. With that, I went back to sleep, to a world when he and I were still together. When the sight of his face emerged, I smiled. Maybe this was indeed a perfect morning.