Words and I

I go with public transportation often and so I learn about the art of going with public transportation.

Art no. 1, make sure to have enough money for the fare because if you need a change from the driver, most likely he will not give you the change if the change is only Rp 500 (it’s about 7 cent). Or he doesn’t give you enough change which you deserve, but before you ask him for more change, he’s already speeding up his vehicle… on purpose. Or if you don’t have enough money, then don’t take the public transportation or the driver will scream at you as if you’re a top one idiot and he’ll drop you in the middle of nowhere, a dead town where you can see a skeleton singing (OK, it’s just my favorite imagination)

Art no. 2, enjoy the ride! Jakarta’s traffic sucks… can you imagine how hard it must be for the driver who has to experience it every single day of his life? So be blessed it’s not you who have to do that to earn a simple living. Er… I think I get carried away now. I mean… just be blessed you have enough money to take a public transportation compared with children in remote places who have to walk kilometers away to go to school.

Art no. 3, sometimes in life, someone may treat you unfairly. It happens a lot in my public transportation’s getaway…hehe. I often don’t get enough change from the driver. Of course sometimes when I can, I tell the driver and the nice drivers usually give me enough change. But bad drivers pretend to be deaf and just run away in a light speed! So the art? Just smile nicely… or if you can’t put a smile on your face, at least smile in your heart. If everyone treats you fairly and well, then it must be that… you are in heaven already! See?

Sound like I’m such a weak girl? Maybe. I have such a weak heart. One day a friend asked me why I gave the driver Rp 2.000 when I could easily gave him Rp 1.500, or even Rp 1.000 because the distance was too short. Or other times, people say why I don’t fight for my rights when I’m treated unfairly. Well, because it doesn’t hurt me so much. That is another different art. I call it the art of Jesus.  

The church was still quite empty when I sat myself on a long bench in the middle row that evening. It was Wednesday, and eventhough it was a special mass, it wasn’t as crowded as Sunday masses.

It was so quiet. One by one people were coming. Then a soft voice woke me up from my reverie.

"Is this seat empty?" An old lady with a smiling face pointed to an empty seat beside me. I nodded. As the lady was kneeling down to pray, I sensed some familiar fragrance. I was beginning to notice that old lady.

She was so small and looked so fragile. She’s wearing a brown woolen sweater and a nice scarf on her neck. Finished praying, she took out her glasses, a box of rosary beads, and an old Bible from her bag.

"Did you go here straight from work?" she asked me again with a smile. Again, I nodded. Then she started to talk about her friends who were supposed to meet her here. I could sense her energy, her enthusiasm about life which seemed flowing from her glowing eyes.

The fragrance was still lingering, stronger now. My mind was drifting to another very old lady I care so much. She was so strong in spite of her tiny feature. Raising up seven children and she still cooked for her grandchildren when she passed away at the age of 85, years ago. Now I was missing that tough lady so much, someone who taught me so many things about life.

The fragrance was the same fragrance that my grandma used to wear.

You couldnt help but notice this elderly lady I ran into in a big supermarket. I was queuing behind her at the cashier desk. She was quite big for Indonesian women, wearing a long black dress and a veil, quite common. But… gosh, she’s really like a walking jewellery store!

It was the clinking sound which grabbed my attention. Her bracelets. Many bracelets on her two wrists, yellowish gold, sparkling! That’s where the noise came from when she was busy arranging her things. I was waiting patiently behind her when she turned around, FLASH! Her big green shimmering pendant from her long necklace dazzled me.  Whoa! Was it a Kryptonite stone? Thank God, I am not Superman!

Then I began to notice her earrings…brightly lit…er… fit her ears. Her glowing glasses… I glimpsed little diamonds scattered on its rim. The colorful-flowery-shaped-brooch on her chest. The gold watch stood out among her bracelets. Then the ring. Wow!

Then I looked at myself… I was wearing some old blue jeans and a T-shirt and nothing more and was trying to recover from the Kryptonite attack! Hahaha…!

It was around 6 pm and I was still at my office when suddenly I felt the floor moving for perhaps three seconds. I asked my friend if she felt it, too. For the next seconds the whole office was in a kind of an uproar. There had been big earthquakes which caused tsunami just two days before not far from Jakarta.

We noticed that the plant in the pot was swaying, things hanging were moving. We decided to go downstair as we were on the 4th floor. We met people from higher floors coming down the stairs hurriedly. Then it dawned on me that this was really serious. A big earthquake might come and we might be trapped in this building or worse, die.

I had never imagined how it would be like if I experienced the big earthquake, fought for my life, and had the most panicky situation ever. I might have passed out even before the ceiling falling down on me.

I have treated life for granted, that’s for sure. I have never realized so much that it is a gift which we have to treasure. I hope I don’t take life for granted anymore.

I was feeling so sick this morning when I woke up. My temperature was higher and I felt so weak.

Usually my mind would recall on the things I did previously, pretending to be my own doctor. The weather has been hot and like every night, I let the fan on all night. Surely not because of it? I ate what I usually eat. I don’t cook myself. There might be some bacteria hidden in my food? Who knows? But that would upset my stomach instead of my temperature? I have no ideas, either.

What could be the cause then?

I was riding on a motorcycle last nite from church. Could it be the bad night wind? Or the bad pollution? Could be….

Thinking of pollution, I remember what happened the day before. I got a headache out of a sudden when I accidentally (can it be on purpose??) inhaled the smoke from cigarettes at work. Some of my co-workers were smoking inside the emergency exit and the smoke was just creeping out innocently to my desk. It is forbidden to smoke there but they were just a bunch of idiots, I assume.

Then at night, I smelled the cigarette smoke out of nowhere in my room. I was ready to sleep and it’s almost midnight. I was starting to get dizzy again so I opened my door and window to let the smell disappear. That had to be from another boarder who smokes in her room at night. Another idiot.

I was feeling so helpless this morning. I didn’t know what made me sick. Maybe the combination of all those things. But anyway…

Being helpless makes me realize how I feel like a dust in His eyes.

I have been wondering if there is really a curse in life. If it exists, who creates it? Surely not Him?

Ever experienced an embarassing or annoying situation not just once but twice, thrice, many times? Ever felt like you’re just walking in place, not gaining any progress no matter how hard you try? Then you might start to think that you are cursed.

I can’t get up early if I can get up late. That’s a curse. I’m often stuck in the middle of writing a story. That’s, of course, a curse. I have so many plans but often end up doing nothing. That’s surely a curse, right?

Mm… when I think about it further, I think it’s LAZINESS, not a curse. But maybe they (or he or she or whoever) curse me to become LAZY? But then again… is there really a curse???

I really have to admit (with so much embarrassment) that it’s not a curse at all but my laziness. I am so lazy!

Can you curse me not to be?

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P.S. The title is ‘copied’ from Faith Hill’s song, This Kiss This Kiss, without her permission, of course   

Words cut like a knife… unless that we don’t bleed. Yes, I’ve learned that. The more we interact with people, the more likely we’ll be in a situation where words knock us down or we stab people with our words, deliberately or not ;) But the older we get, of course we hope we’ll say less hurting words to others, if we can help it.

Unfortunately, life is not always what we want it to happen. Today was my turn when I was stabbed by some silly words commented by a friend. I am sure he said those words jokingly but still I couldn’t help but felt a bit hurt. Not long, though, coz I’ve learned so much about these things. I’ve learned not to shape up my life based on what people comment on it. What do they know about my life, anyway? ("It’s my life…." try to sing like Bon Jovi) Now I am feeling like laughing out loud about what my ‘heartless’ friend just said…haha!  

I am not perfect, either. In my jokes, I am sure I have hurt others unintentionally. I just hope I don’t make it as a habit. Somehow I must learn to just shut up!

Can words hurt you?

Life is full of choices, that’s what I’ve learned so far. But when it comes into winning a lottery, that’s a fate…haha! It’s a choice, too, believe me. To buy or not to buy, that is the question. Isn’t it?

Anyway… 

The first time I ever really pondered over each word in Robert Frost’s poem, The Road Less Traveled, I shed a tear.

It was one of the most crucial time in my life. I decided to change my study in the university and almost everyone were against my decision… because I took the road less traveled by. I didn’t know if that was my right choice but I knew it was what I really wanted my whole life.

Then I read the poem.  

This is its last verses that brought down my tears:

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

But I know now that I wont be telling this with a sigh because I took the one less traveled by and that really has made all the difference. I hope I wont be telling people years years later things like, "I could have….", "I should have been a….", "If only things were different, I’d….", and many more excuses.

Life is full of choices, my friend… along with its risk.

I first heard the word ‘favor bank’ from a novel I read, The Zahir by Paulo Coelho a few months ago.  I think the idea of it has been known for a long time if not forever. Give someone a favor and oneday when you need one, you’ll likely get it from an unexpected source. Sound like a karma, eh? Maybe it has similar idea but why do I always think of negative thoughts with the word ‘karma’?

Anyway, this favor bank idea turns to disturb me the way karma does. Not always but sometimes I just can’t hide this ‘what will I get in return if I do this?’ thought when I want to do things which involve helping others. But of course sometimes I just help without even having time to think about the reward or even knowing there is even such a reward!

I think it’s like having a bargain with God. "God, if I do this, would You give me that?" Or, "Dearest God, I don’t want to do this unless You present me that!" Sounds so… childish? Well, I think we all have done this at least once in our life?

In my opinion, the favor bank we have all through our life is supposed to be for Him.