on moving out, moving in and the love lost in between

I'm moving. I think I am. I've put down the down payment, and am scheduled to move in to the new place this Saturday.

Before I continue, maybe I can elaborate the history of my living situation so far. I lived in my family's home in Jakarta since the day I was born until sometime in April 2012. No, I never went abroad or to another city for school or any long-term arrangement. I finally moved to Bali in 2012 because I got a job, and it was not easy. It was a big change, it was huge. It was the first time I lived alone. I lived in this dodgy place for a month, before moving in to my current place.

Five years and five months later, I'm still a resident in Tamarind. My room is definitely not big, but it's enough. I don't have a kitchen, but I manage. The noise from the airport practically damaged my hearing, parking situation is always tricky, my bathroom is deteriorating and I have the dodgiest next-door neighbour who's been living there forever. BUT, I found myself finding it hard to just move out without any unnecessary sentimental frills.

If my life was a TV series, then my room would be one of the characters. It's like Central Perk in F.R.I.E.N.D.S., or New York City in Sex and the City. It's a friend in which I take comfort, it's a sanctuary where my introvert side hides, it's a snuggly nest, darn it, it's a home. It's not much -- not even a house -- but it's my home.

It's where I played house with my ex-boyfriend (who, seriously, was the dodgiest part of my life) for a month to see what it was like to be together 24/7. It's where I found out that that didn't work out. It's where I cried, cried and cried -- from the break up, deadline stress, being broke, or simply the monthly PMS catastrophe. It's where I came home after a long, bad day to crumble and balled up on the floor, bawling and wanting to die.

It's where I had my first midnight birthday surprise, when a bunch of my bestest friends in Bali knocked on my door 12am on the dot to bring me cake and basically be the sole reason of one of my happiest moments. I don't really have people over that much, but it's where I had quite a few sleepovers -- innocent ones!

That said, it's where I learned about the ease (or complication?) of modern dating/hoe lyfe world. "Welcome [to the world of casual sex]," I remember my first study partner saying, as he sat on the edge of the bed and lit his cigarette. Such a cliche, but it's still an endearing memory. It's where I opened my doors to another charming guy, who first screwed me when I was drunk (it's consensual though) and never texted unless he wanted to get into my pants -- several times.

It's where I let my guard down and thought I could experiment with feelings and rom-com cliches without any real consequences (obviously I was wrong). It's where I had the most crippling, the most dragging heartbreak I've ever experienced. It's where I learned to speak out my feelings, no more Miss Bottling Things Up. It's also where I learned that speaking out doesn't necessarily mean getting what you want. It's where I learned that loving sometimes means putting someone else's happiness first, even though it's killing you.

It's where I had plethora of zsazsazsu butterflies -- the obvious douche, the most exciting sex of my life, the doomed crush and the one Tinder situation that actually works out (we had the cutest meet-cute ever). It's where I fell in love over and over again, and got my heart broken over and over again (not necessarily in that order).

So, B8, you've been a big part of my life, you've been around longer than any of the visitors I hated to love. And while I thought that by the time I got to the end of this post, I would figure out how to feel and come up with a wisdom-laden punchline, I don't. It's a goodbye, and here's to a new chapter to have new ups and downs in.





Wish me luck.

on oleh-oleh

It's just one of those things. Things that have been going on for so long, they have become common social courtesy.

Asking travelling friends/family to bring oleh-oleh or souvenirs.

Don't get me wrong, I might have been guilty of this cringe-worthy behavior too in the past to some extent. Like I said, it's common, it's normal (really?). However, after racking my brain for a clearer look on the matter, yes, it's cool when someone who has been travelling to cool places comes back and brings us stuff, but maybe, we should not ask for it?

Me? I love bringing loved ones or just people around me stuff. That's my sickness actually. I don't do the merlion key chains or refrigerator magnets (well, not anymore, at least), because it's so much more exciting to get someone something that has a personal meaning for them. Yes, I drive myself crazy with this habit, but can't kill this one just yet.

When someone asks me to bring them stuff, -- sometimes specific stuff (this brand, this colour, this flavour) -- I will take some factors into consideration: Do I have the money to get it? Am I close enough with -- or do I care enough about -- this person to go out of my way and get them stuff? If it's "yes" on both, I will definitely try my best to get it.

People I care about have been nice enough to not hassle me with the "Oleh-olehnya mana?" (Where's my souvenir?) question -- which by the way, is a normal, acceptable question here. My VIPs are more If you can get it, great, if not, that's totally okay. But then once in a while, I got that question from people I'm not even close with. To ask that question once is okay -- acceptable, but more often than not, they questioned it quite persistently to the point of it was slightly awkward.

This is an actual conversation, some parts are translated to English

Jane Doe: Oh that's right, you just got back from Japan. How was it? Oleh-olehnya mana?
Me: It was so fun! I really needed that vacation! I didn't feel like going home just yet!
Jane Doe: (nodding and smiling) So, mana oleh-olehnya?
Me: ...
Jane Doe: Nothing? (a weird mix of anticipation and baffled expression on her face)

To which, I answered: "I think my coming home safely is enough souvenir for everyone."

Excuse me, first of all, it's not like I crap money. Second of all, were you there when I gathered the latest cents from under the sofa to get the plane tickets? Did you help when I applied for the passport, the visa waiver, or when I had some misunderstanding with the Airbnb? Did you come up with any tip or advice on what kind of Internet/cellular package or transportation pass card that I should use during my trip? Because I have friends who helped me with all of those, and they didn't ask for a single thing.

It's one thing to ask "Oleh-olehnya mana?", but don't hold your breath for it, don't make it awkward.

Au revoir, Awkward!

on what meets the eye

At 32 I have a lot of grey hair (my natural colour is black). It's been around for quite a while, and it used to bug me a lot. I used to dye my hair back to black regularly. These days I don't anymore, though; probably because I'm currently enjoying it.

Yes, people asked about it a lot. "Don't you want to get your hair dyed?" is the most popular question. When I did answer with "Probably in a few days, I miss my black hair", sometimes they would subtly retaliate with, "Why black though? Isn't it kinda shabby? Why not highlight it?". Sigh. You can't please everyone.

Since I'm loving my hair now, that kind of questions doesn't really bother me anymore. After all, I do understand that the grey hair's branding team isn't as popular as, say, the blonde one. It must take a while for most people to get there.

One day, at a hospitality event filled with fellow media professionals, a lady I know made a big fuss about how she liked my hair and how she wished she had the salt-and-pepper streaks like mine. Thing is, she does have grey streaks, and when I mentioned it to her, she continued to say things like "But it doesn't look as cool as yours" while touching my hair. Needless to say I was uncomfortable. But no big deal.

Two night ago, however, my best friend who attended the same event, told me that just before I stopped by to talk to this lady, when I was still out of earshot, the lady was talking about my hair to a second lady I also know, saying, "Ih, Runi kok rambutnya gitu sih?" -- of course, with a condescending tone. The second lady agreed with her.

I stand by my words. I don't mind people asking about and disagreeing with the way I look, but just be upfront about it. I didn't ask to be awkwardly complimented in public only to find out that the culprit felt the opposite and actually pointed that out in front of people but me.

Yes, I work in the industry where words can be as genuine as the eyebrows on most people's faces these days. So I should've seen it coming. It just still amuses me how some people would go out of their way to be spiteful.

Grey hair don't care, out.