a killer turning point

I’ve always had a very relaxed attitude towards money. I live quite comfortably according to my own standard and I can afford the lifestyle that I want to have. Never in my life had I had the desire to earn loads and loads of money because luxury means nothing to me.

But, there is one occasion where I wish I was one of those rich people. It doesn’t have to be Paris Hilton rich. Local celebrity or even president director rich is enough.

It happened in the beginning of this year. I was presented with a big dilemma. Now, don’t get too excited. This is my life we’re talking about and my life is frivolous. So of course my dilemma is somewhat frivolous as well.

Two of my favorite bands, The Killers and Muse were going to have concerts in Singapore and their concerts were only ten days apart. With my kind of income, I could only afford to go to one concert. Well technically I could afford both, but it would put a dent in my savings. Three years ago I wouldn’t have cared about dents in my savings but now I do. I’m older. I’m getting more and more boring and safe.

So anyway, after much tossing and turning at night, I chose The Killers. My consideration was that Muse does Asian concerts more than The Killers, so I might be able to catch Muse the next two years or so, whereas that might not be the case for The Killers. I was pretty sure I did the wisest thing and made the right choice. I bought the most expensive tickets for the concert, I booked the flight and the hotel in Singapore. I was ready to meet Brandon Flowers up close and personal.

But as luck would have it, The Killers freaking cancelled their Asia-Australia tour one day before I was supposed to fly to Singapore. I was beyond pissed. Had I known they were not serious about having this concert I would’ve chosen to see Muse instead! What a bunch of flaky bastards! Now, Sistic Singapore was going to refund the ticket money of course but I had to wait for about 2 weeks. Also, because I bought budget airlines tickets of course they can’t be cancelled. So I lost quite a bit of money, the money that could very well be used to buy Muse tickets. But of course by that time Muse tickets were already sold out.

That was the time when I wish I was rich. Rich enough to buy tickets to see both concerts. Rich enough to fly to Singapore back and forth in the interval of 10 days, or rich enough to afford staying in a Singapore hotel for ten days if I want to avoid flying back and forth. Rich enough to spend money on truly unimportant things like going to see my favorite bands whenever I feel like it.

People have turning points in their lives. I guess that was some kind of turning point in my life. The moment when I truly understand the power of cash. So that when life gives me lemon, I could go buy a bottle of tequila to drink it with instead of just making some lame tasting lemonade.

Oh and P.S to Brandon Flowers, if one day you are unfortunate enough to read this post, if the reason The Killers cancelled the Asian tour is because you guys are splitting up because you just had a baby and what not, I can only tell you that you need to learn a lot from Keith Richards. Women, marriages, affairs, babies, drug problems, depressions, nothing could slow him down. That’s why he’s still up there, partying and being the rock star that he truly is and you… well where are you now? Your solo album has better be something otherwise I would have to cancel my infatuation of you.

In my opinion, rock stars gone soft are worse than boy bands gone rough.

So there.

the great french wine debacle

Like Elizabeth Gilbert, I once came and stayed in Bali for a whole month to lick my wound. It was the end of 2005 and I just got out of a messy situation. Needless to say I was a bit of a wreck and hated everyone in my hometown Jakarta. One night at a friend’s house I was introduced to a guy who was high on weeds and he slurred that he spent a month or so in Bali doing practically nothing but lying on the beach or his cheap rented room getting high. He was my inspiration.

I booked my flight and kind of quit my job (yes, in that order). I was working freelance at that time so it was no big deal. I just told my boss that I needed to get away for a while and would give her a ring when I came back to town and see if my post was still available. Being in the state I was then, money was the least of my worries, let alone a career path. Next I asked around if people knew people who could find me a cheap rented room to stay for a month or so. One of my girl friends did. So I got the accommodation sorted out. Next I packed my bag and flew.

I didn’t know what to expect really, I never stayed in Bali for more than 5 days before that and it was always at nice hotels or villas.

Anyhow, for the kind of price I was paying, the place was not bad at all. It’s got air con, TV, a small kitchenette and a big comfy bed. But, the place being some kind of a guest house where people stay long term for a low price, you could expect to find some dodgy characters there.

On my first night, after I went out for dinner I walked towards my room after deciding to spend the first night staying in with a book rather than intoxicating myself. I walked past a room where two Caucasian guys and an Indonesian girl sat on the patio drinking and laughing. They must be my neighbors, so I waved a friendly hi. They waved back.

Now, on the risk of sounding snobbish and judgmental, to get a full picture of this story, you need to know that the Indonesian girl was what Singaporeans call “sarong party girl”, the type of local girls, usually from the small towns, who shag Caucasian tourists for money. Naturally, I never hung out with those girls because I didn’t even know where to find one in Jakarta. But it was Bali, the land of anything goes, and also I was game for adventure and I figured that I wasn’t the one to judge. She asked me to join her and the two Caucasian guys, whom I learned to be French guys, on their wine session.

Now, with a couple of French guys in the picture, I automatically assumed it would be French wine, so of course I said yes, somewhat gratefully, and sat down with them. On my first night and already got an offer to get drunk on exquisite French wine? Not bad at all.

So, the girl gave me a plastic cup and reached for the bottle of… not wine. What the hell? From the shape of the bottle I knew it wasn’t wine. I tried to read the label as she poured the foul-smelling liquid. And my heart sank. The drink was what we the locals call Anggur Obat or AO, roughly translated as Medicine Wine. It was an alcoholic beverage so cheap, beggars and street kids and homeless people of Jakarta got drunk on it.

Now, I couldn’t not drink the drink after I so gratefully said yes earlier, could I? So I took a deep breath and took a sip. The bloody drink burned my throat. It was so hard to swallow and I was sure my face went red at once. I suspiciously looked at the two French guys and wondered how the hell they could stomach the deadly drink when they’re used to French wine? But I figured that being travelers in Bali of course they were keen to try anything remotely local and “exotic”, the weirder the taste the more heroic they would feel.

So, being the friendly woman that she was, she kept pouring the wine and I didn’t have the heart to say no. Also, it was really entertaining to see how she tried to seduce the two French guys. It was quite an experience so I stayed on drinking with them for quite some times.

The next morning I woke up with the feeling that an elephant was sitting on my head. It was beyond horrible. Thank God I managed not to throw up because it would be even worse if I had to taste that deadly liquid on my throat again.

So, lesson learnt. Except for beers, never again did I accept an invitation for free drinks from questionable characters in the guest house. Ha!

family matters

Last Sunday I hung out with hubby's family. And his mom told us that the school where she teaches is organizing a trip to Bali. We thought she was going to be excited about it because she likes Bali a lot, but she told us that she won't be joining the trip. We asked her why and she told us that she feels weird about going on holiday on her own, with her own friends. Holidays are supposed to be with her family. By family she meant her children and grandchildren.

Hubby's mom is over 50 years old, so naturally she and I have different sets of values. Also, hubby's mom is very much a family-minded person, who puts herself only in context of her family.

Although I don't like to generalize, I guess it is safe to assume that most Indonesian older women, by older I mean one generation older than me, are like her. Their concept of happiness is not personal happiness but rather a collective one. Once they have children, everything has to be about the children. No more I, it's us.

For hubby’s mom, she can’t see herself as an individual being. She had blended into a family. Therefore the notion of having fun on her own, enjoying herself in the company of her own friends while leaving her family at home is not acceptable.

A concept that is entirely alien to me.

Now, I wasn’t brought up with traditional Indonesian family’s values. I am a product of mixed ethnics and interfaith relationship. My parents are truly individuals who never act like parents. They regarded my sister and I as individuals too, albeit individuals whose lives they financed until university.

When I was still living with my parents and sister, we were more like housemates rather than a family. There were no scheduled meal times, no family gatherings to attend, no obligatory visits to relatives, no religious celebration, nothing. Therefore I have no strong sense of family. For me, they are just people I happen to love. And it’s cool to have parents like them. They never questioned my decision in everything: the man I chose to marry, the career I chose, the life I chose to live.

From early on, I learned that they are just human like me, with their own portfolios of stupid decisions too. And it is comforting to know that, because it means that I’ve got friends in them instead of parents whom I have to perform duties to.

Like everything else in life, it has its own good and bad. The good thing is that I grew up to be a person who is very open to differences. I don’t really judge people. My judgment is usually based on whether they piss me off or not. Other than that, I have no opinion about anyone. Also, I am very quick in making decisions. I never over analyze and I never regret anything. I can easily shrug off a bad decision as one of my mistakes and don’t wallow over losses or setbacks.

The bad thing is, as my closest friends and hubby pointed out time and time again, I grew up to be a very self-centered person. When deciding something about my life, I tend to forget to take into account the opinions of those who care about me. Everything is about me, how I feel and how I would go about it. It sure is quicker that way, but only works if I am a hermit living in cave somewhere in the deep Borneo forest.

Now, marrying hubby who came from a close-knitted family who still live by their traditional values is a new experience to me. I learn a thing or two about being a family - about how to treat a mother, a father, a sister, a brother, a nephew – in the traditional sense.

At my age I get to experience what my childhood friends experienced, although I have it better because I can now experience it as a spectator and only participate in things that suit me.

I have my parents to thank for my individuality and I have my hubby’s parents to thank for this whole new experience of being a family member.

I always have everything in the end.

That’s what I love about my life.

f**k yeah I do

I had several conversations with a couple of my girl friends from different stages of my life over the weekend. Hubby was away on a photo assignment so I used the time to catch up with my girl friends. Being girls, of course we were not interested in talking about the iPad, or the Icelandic volcano. We talked about boys (or men, considering our age) and relationships.

Some of my friends are in what a friend of mine calls relationshits. The degree of shits vary, from the indecisive boyfriend, grumpy husband to a downright abusive partner. I won’t talk about their relationshits though, if you’re that curious about what kind of shit they are in you should look it up in their respective blogs.

No, I want to share my thoughts on commitment. Because I found that although nearly all my friends are in relationships, a lot of them are clueless about what it takes to have a commitment.

Those who know me well would do a double take here. Commitment? Moi?

I know, I know. I bail from things. I leave projects unfinished. I take off when things get hard because I don’t have the patience to see things through.
In fact I treated my past partners so bad, a friend of mine used to say that other girls may break men’s heart, but not me, I leave them traumatized.

Yeah I was a difficult child, impossible even. I never listened, I never cared, everything had to be done on my terms. In short, I did not know how to behave in a relationship. So naturally they bailed, one by one. Some nicely, some just disappeared, some I needed to hunt down to give me explanation. But all explanations were useless because I never thought I was in the wrong. I was so sure that I did everything I could for them, and they in return did not do their parts and I demanded them to change their ways otherwise I would make their lives a living hell.

No wonder all my past relationships were beyond doomed. Nobody could stand me. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of my exes ended up in a mental institution, considering the kind of scary stuff I used to subject them to. Consider this piece my apology, but don’t charge me the medical bills.

Now what changed me?

Nothing dramatic. I just got bored. I got bored of having to fight every single time to get my way. I got bored having to drill my principles into the brain of some eggheads. So I retreated from the dating game and relooked at my strategy. Maybe I should stop trying to shape a person to meet my needs. Maybe I should for once accept the person for what he is. If I don’t like what he is I should just leave rather than trying to change him. If the right person never comes, then maybe I will have to learn to have fun living on my own.

But, like a fairy tale, I met hubby. I had no expectations whatsoever when I met him. I hung out with him and found that we could have hours of conversations or even debates without me wanting to crush him. And I found, surprisingly, that I could actually put up with his antiques, just like he could put up with mine. We laughed at our misfortunes and believe me there were a lot of them. We are not exactly the brightest people on earth so we made loads of stupid mistakes but we always, always managed to laugh them all off.

Together, we acquired a new skill: a skill to let go.

That is, I guess, the key to a committed relationship. What to keep and what to let go differs for every couple, depending on their objectives in life. But I think we have to know how to let go of the things that don’t truly matter to us and don’t lose sight of what is important, which is us.

Of course, it can only be done with the right man. How did I know that hubby was the right man? Because he shares my sense of humor. That’s it.

So when he asked me whether I wanted to be his wife, I automatically answered fuck yeah I do, with a big grin on my face.

Oh, and for those who don’t know me, I got married to hubby when I was 34 so I had had my share of relationshits before I could identify him as the right man so I know what I’m talking about.

We’re on our 2nd year of marriage now, still pretty much a newbie, but I have to tell you this: we still laugh and talk as much as when we first met 4 years ago, effortlessly.

And I love being a couple, because for me it’s so much fun than being with myself.

nice is the new nice

As I mentioned in my earlier post, there are not many things that I dislike. From the list, one thing that I truly cannot stand is loud-voiced men who think too highly of themselves. Unfortunately, I deal with these kinds almost on daily basis. I can’t help it because I do corporate work and the corporation is full of self-important babies.

You know who they are. Insecure grown men in meetings, always have to make a point in a very loud voice, even if they have no point. Their craving for respect and credit is insatiable. I could go on and on about them because I despise them so much, but I will stop here. This blog is about positive things in my life. I have another blog for venting purposes.

So, anyway, I had this meeting. It was with several very important people. I was already being judgmental even before the meeting started. So I braced myself for an unpleasant experience of ego warfare. I was usually a wallflower in those kinds of meetings, nobody ever bothered to even look at me. But I was in for a surprise. Those gentlemen were very, very nice. They asked, they listened, they gave suggestions rather than orders, and I respect them so much for that.

You know the saying: it’s nice to be important, but more important to be nice? It’s cliché but true. Unless you train an army, you can’t get a lot from people if you yell at them. You would only scare them and make them hate you and bitch about you behind their backs and plot their ways out. Nobody likes working for a tyrant.

I, for sure, don’t like it.

I need to be inspired rather than pushed. And I am not scared of anything. Tyranny won’t work for people who are not afraid. So it’s useless being hard on me because it won’t increase my productivity or whatever. I will only be more productive in finding ways to kill you and that would take up probably 50% of my productive hours, leaving me unproductive.

To be fair, people in this country is still lacking professionalism. It’s a national disease I guess and I don’t see a cure is going to be invented anytime soon. But leading a team with a tyrannical attitude is just not the way to go, especially if what one leads is actually a group of individuals who are paid to think for themselves. And I can think for myself.

Back to that particular meeting. It was very refreshing. They were not overly humble and being too friendly or anything. They were still being important, but they treated us as equally important and that was nice and they inspired me to do great stuff for them. And I will give myself an extra push to do great things, because I like working with nice people.

Hitler, after all, is so 1940s.
Keep up with the trend.

1GB backpack

It was quiet Sunday night, the end of the Easter long weekend.
I was watching a rerun of my favorite TV show, CSI New York. Hubby was sitting in the dining table, browsing the internet when suddenly he said "f u u u u u u c k"

I turned to him and found that he was in this state of panic. I asked him what's wrong and he couldn't say a word. He was really pale, holding his iPod Touch and I saw that the screen was blank, only the Apple logo floating about on the screen and nothing else. The iPod crashed.

I asked what he did with it and he said nothing. It just crashed. It was a 64GB iPod and he had thousands of songs in there, not to mention video clips and photos and what not. So naturally, he was really bummed.

He took the iPod to the shop in the morning. He was told that the system crashed. It happens sometimes. Technology just fails. That's it. Now the thing with iPods are, they can't be opened and repaired. The shop will send the broken iPod to Singapore and my husband will get a substitute. So he would have to say good bye to this iPod and all his data. All 64 GB of it.

My husband looked like someone just died. All the songs and video clips that he religiously uploaded one by one over a period of time, will be there no more. He has to redo the whole thing all over again. My poor hubby was heartbroken.

And suddenly I got an enlightenment. I don't know why I'm easily enlightened these days. Maybe I'm that close of becoming Yoda. But the enlightenment is this:

Remember George Clooney's character's "backpack philosophy" in the movie Up in The Air? He said that without us realizing it, we accumulate so much in our lives. It could be things, or relationships, or responsibilities and one day our backpack will be so heavy and it will feel like a burden and we are so afraid of losing it because our everything is in there.

If we really think about it, why do people need a 64GB iPod? Who could possibly listen to that many songs? But the GB is getting bigger and bigger and I'm sure my husband will trade his 64GB for a bigger one should they launch it one day, even though he's not a musician and I really don't see a direct correlation between his life and a giant GB iPod. Maybe it's just basic human needs, the need to accumulate things, even if they are not that necessary.

Now, I may not possess many skills in life, but I certainly master the skill of detachment and that skill has saved me from a lot of heartbreaks. I never have the need to possess things, seriously. I own only things that are necessary to me. In fact my most prized possessions are my laptop and blackberry, which I need for work and for social life and networking. I don't collect anything. I have lots of books but it's because I like to read and I am not a book collector. I would gladly give them away for those who like to read as much as I do but can't afford to buy books. And I lose things from time to time, but it doesn't bug me because they were not that necessary in the first place.

I don't know why I am so wise and enlightened in this area, considering that I usually make bad choices with my life. Maybe it's got a lot to do with my parents excessive pampering when I was little. It got to a point where I had too much and started to denounce them one by one. In fact, there's this one occasion in my childhood that still amuses my mom until now. I can't remember any of it but my mom always tells people this story:

I was about 4 or 5, my sister wasn't born yet. We were on a holiday and my dad was known as a big spender on holidays. We went to all the nice places and ate at all the must-eat restaurants and it got to a point when I got sick of all the good things, literally. We were at this posh restaurant for dinner and I insisted that I only wanted to eat plain rice and shrimp crackers. I was sick of all the steaks and escargot and what not. It cracked the waiters up and I was an instant favorite at that restaurant.

Now if that wasn't little Yoda, I don't know what is.

Oh, by the way, I only own a 1GB (yes, ONE) iPod Nano that I bought 5 or 6 years ago and it NEVER give me so much as a glitch. From day 1 until now, my 1GB iPod Nano has been going strong. I have about 10 albums in it, maybe about 70 songs and that's about it. I never have the need to listen to more than 70 songs a day. I like to think of myself as this iPod, small, compact and does not contain anything that is not necessary.

Here's my prized 1GB iPod Nano, the one my husband now relies on while waiting for his substitude 64GB iPod Touch to come from Singapore.

how to be rich in an instant

How does eating a cup of super cheap, super instant noodle universally known as pop mie goreng make one feel like the richest person in the world?


Two possibilities: MSG-induced hallucination or random enlightenment that has got nothing to do with the said cup noodle. (Or when you think about it, the latter can be the direct effect of the first)

I'm not too sure which of the possibilities applied to my case, but it happened. I was craving for it and when I had the first forkful of the rubbery, chock-full of unknown chemicals noodle in my mouth, I did feel like the richest person in the world.

Why? Because I get what I want when I want it the most.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the secret of being rich. And I can proudly say that I am a rich person.

True, I do not own a house or a car, which are standard measurement for richness for most people. But I am rich because I always get what I want.

Do I want a house and a car?

I don't care about cars. I can't drive, I'm directionally challenged, I can't even instinctively tell right from left, I have to think about it, seriously. That's why I make a point of wearing my watch on my left wrist, so I know that it is left just by looking at my wrist. That's why I don't mind having to depend on other people to get me places. I won't be able to travel by myself anyway.

Now, as an adult, do I want a dream house? Every bank commercial says so.

Well, yeah, eventually. BUT I only want a house if it's in a location that I like. And I am very picky with locations. With the kind of earnings that I have now, I can't afford it yet. Thus, I don't want it. Why burden myself with a mortgage for a house I don't even like in the first place. Maybe I will own a house in the future, maybe I won't. It's not like I'm going going to be buried in the house anyway. Bad investment strategy? I don't do strategies. I believe in miracles. They happened in my life so I believe.

Do I want branded stuff? Nope, I'm terribly unfashionable. It's a disease I cannot cure, so I arm myself with a wardrobe full of black shirts, jeans, shorts and black dresses for weddings. They work just fine. I don't like to carry a bag, so I got myself a man's bag so my husband can carry it for me without him looking like an idiot. And I don't care about shoes either. As long as I have one or two comfortable pairs, I'm done.

My indulgences are books, booze and travels. Those are the things that I would save up for. I am a sucker for experience and I don't mind paying extra to experience alternative realities. Those indulgences enrich me, imaginatively.

So mostly, I get what I want. In fact, I have what I want and what I don't have, I don't want.

And I believe that is what makes me rich.

Conclusions: there are two possible ways to be rich:

1. Stop wanting anything, you'll feel like you own everything.
2. Start eating pop mie day in day out, they're really cheap so you could use the extra money to buy your dream whatever.

So there, get rich or die trying :)