Found: Long Lost Friend

Never underestimate the power of the Internet.

Remember my post about my long lost best friend, Mila? It was posted 04/14/09 -although I did write in 2007 about reminiscing her and Jakarta, thanks to Gwen Stefani’s 4 in the Morning- then about three months later, she dropped a comment in my  ’Saya’ page of this blog! I was with my family one cold Saturday, enjoying brunch in a small local cafe after the kids were done competing at the Iowa Games track and field event. My iPhone dinged to informed that I just got an email. We were still waiting for our food to come, so I checked my Gmail and read that WordPress, my blog host, was asking my approval in relates to someone’s comment to my post. My jaw dropped… it was my long lost best friendher! I was so freaked out! Of course I approved it and replied right away:

emka on July 18, 2009 Edit This

Hi sist, gw lg di puncak, biasa, msh dg kesibukan shtng..
Ada temen ksh tau suruh buka ur blog.. Baca crita kita..
Didinginnya tengah mlm puncak, can u imagine how I feel ?
Tears falling down instantly.. Gosshhh.. Miss u so much !
Miss our friendship, miss everything about us..
Thanks for trying to find me..

Reply

dinysays on July 21, 2009 Edit This

Milaaaaaaa… OMG! Akhirnya nyampe juga suara hatiku -ceile- menyebrangi lautan. Selanjutnya gue email elo aja yah. Miss you, sis!

Reply

After all this time… for about 8 years I did [almost] everything a stalker would do to find her. She must have changed her cell phone number and email. I wasn’t able to reach her there. So I Googled, Youtubed, even Facebooked her name; the result was not satisfying. All results mostly lead me to old news and foto archives from various Indonesian online media.

Then after watching the movie “I Love You, Man” with Paul Rudd which made me think about our friendship,  I decided to write it on my blog. I thought, “What the heck… give it a try.” Months went by without positive news, although some commentators were nice enough to encouraged me not to give up hope and said they’ll try to ask around. Evidently, somewhere in Indonesia, a guy (Mila’s friend whom I also knew) was either bored or doing some PR-ing, did a search on the Net on her name. He, according to Mila, then informed her about my pathetic post; then the rest is history.

***Thanks, Anto… I still feel bad about puking on your lap in the car after a night of clubbing. Very sorry, man.

After a series of hit and miss, we finally were able to chat (I really thank the Internet for bringing Indonesia closer to me virtually). She was having trouble installing the chat programme into her Blackberry for a while.

These messages were sent while you were offline.

5:35 AM mkarmelia: Sorry BB lg ngehang mulu sist.. Baru di upgrade niy..

Sorry lg trouble logging ke google talk niy
Powered by Telkomsel BlackBerry®

So I waited patiently to see that little green bullet ‘available’ icon appear next to her name whenever I open my Gmail. Patience is a virtue, they said. How true. I was at work last Wednesday morning, and was checking my Gmail. all of the sudden, a pop up window showed up on the lower right screen of my computer.

8:58 AM mkarmelia: Hi sis, pa kbr ?
 me: WAAAA!!! ADA MILAAA!!
8:59 AM mkarmelia: Heheheeeee… Maaaaaap !!!
9:00 AM me: ga papa lageee… lagi di mana sis?
 mkarmelia: Drmh lg skt, beteeee.. Dirimu ?
9:01 AM me: kantor. sakit ape? kangen gue sampe sakit begitu, kaciaan :p
9:02 AM mkarmelia: Kejar setoran biasaaaa.. Mplu..
  Kntr apa sis ?

… and so on and so forth

Thank you Leonard Kleinrock for pioneering this, I had found my long lost friend now. 

I’m so glad I found you again, sis. Hope you wouldn’t mind me posting your cute pic with the twins 

Demanding People are Insecure?

Didn’t your parents teach you how to say ‘Please’ and ‘Thank You’ when you ask for something to anybody?
Did you know that if you ask somebody a favor nicely, you’re more than likely to get it?
Weren’t you educated to be polite to everybody, no matter who they are?
Is this about self-absorbed and a need for instant gratification,  ’acting up’ and demand your way around?
Is being demanding and nasty your way to leash your anger on to others?
Do you know that by showing your rage, anger, tears, attack, whine, self-pity, etc to demand your needs would mean you’re a manipulative person?
Do you know that your ridiculously demanding behavior shows that you’re an insecure person?

“I pity the fool!” – Mr. T 

**To fellow receptionists/customer services: “Hang in there!”

Age Denial?

This hottie tagged me on Facebook to share stories about ‘age’. She hilariously wrote (in Bahasa Indonesia) how she always feels like a 21 year old, and always tell people that she is twenty-one. If a close friend was nearby and gave her the dirty look about claiming twenty-one, she would correct it to 24. Still not her real age, I don’t think. Nobody knows how old she really is, but it doesn’t matter. I know her only from her blog, but I truly think she’s awesome. Not only she has the good look, but also very talented. That’s why I think she can get away with this.

While jokingly she admitted that she’s living in denial, she did ask if there’s any ‘mature’ person who’d feel the same. If by that, she meant to ask: is there any 30++ year old people who feel young at heart and act like one, my answer would be ‘a lot’. But I don’t know how many of those ‘a lot’ who would ‘lie’ (jokingly or not) about their age. 

Mine is totally the opposite. I’ve always told people my real age, never once hesitated. I enjoyed seeing their eyes gotten bigger exclaimed, “BUT YOU DON’T LOOK 35!” Liking the next comment even more, “Are you sure you’re not 25?” I am not exactly sure what makes people say that. But since appearance is the first thing you’d see, I’m guessing it’s my look? I don’t wear heavy make ups or ’pimp’ my hair. No lipsticks, just lip balm during the winter season. No eye shadows, only eyeliner. My hair is long sand straight, I don’t make it ‘poofy’; only occasionally when I feel like doing something ‘different’, I’d curl the tip of my hair a little bit.

One of my coworkers said one day that the reason why I look young(er) was because I’m Asian. I asked her if she was serious, and cluelessly she said that she was, but not anymore after that question. “I just think if you start wearing [heavy] make ups since middle school, whether you’re white, black or Asian, you’d look older than your actual age.”

My other guess why people would not believe me when I tell them that I’m in my mid 30s, probably because I’m a goofball. ‘Dork’ is my nickname -lovingly given by hubby and now the nurses and doctors at work are also calling me that, great- and I don’t hesitate being silly around my kids’ and their friends.

I do feel young at heart. I really think that people who are able to laugh a lot, who takes life not too seriously and not afraid to look silly; are the coolest people on Earth. Not necessarily going around telling people that your age is ten years younger than the actual one. But since nobody gets hurt, I don’t think it’s a crime. 

“It’s not denial. I’m just very selective about the reality I accept.” -Calvin (6), from Calvin and Hobbes.

Pic’s from here.

Halloween and All That

Forgive me friends, for I have sinned.
It’s been a while since my last post for this blog.
Life’s been hectic.

Anyhoooo… I need to tell you something about last Halloween. After living here for 8 years, this is the first time I was involved in it. Started with ‘Boo Buddies’; which I was not familiar with at first. But again, I wasn’t born in this country. And the country I was born in and lived in, Indonesia, is not a big Halloween fan (at least not in my era). Then a coworker said, “It’s just like the Secret Santa. Only it’s for Halloween.” Again, not familiar with that either. Being brought up in a Moslem family and all.

So, the concept for ‘Boo Buddies’ is to secretly give Halloween-related gifts (not to be expensive) to another person on the week of Halloween. Everybody who’s interested in playing wrote their names on a piece of paper and put them in a bowl. Then we all picked one name out, and that is your assigned Boo Buddy. Mine was my favorite nurse (the person that I gave my presents to), so it was cool. The keyword is ’secret’ and this was rather hard. Everybody (receptionists, medical record clers, nurses, and lab technician) were pretty much sitting in front of their computers all day. You just have to be sneaky when you see somebody left their station (rooming a patient, looking for a chart, etc), you dashed to their station and leave your gift at their desk. Or you could use a ‘messenger’ or a delivery person. I had received a lot of cute stuff from my Boo Buddy. Day one was a Halloween-y picture frame, then a cute orange candle holder with ghost and pumpkins on it, then a bag of a pair of Halloween socks and a small ’Too Cute To Spook’ sign, a bag of Cheetos (yes, we did make a list of things we like), and a big sign for the lawn saying ‘Turn Back Now’. Just adorable.

On the fifth day, right on Friday October 31st, we revealed who our Boo Buddy was and I guessed it right. It was our lab tech, Melissa. That day we dressed up, my first ever Halloween involvement. I came in to work as a cow girl; pair of old jeans, boots, a Western-style shirt, and a borrowed cowboy hat. A fellow receptionist came in as a surgeon, dressed in blue scrubs. One of our doctors groaned, “Oh from all costumes, you just have to pick that. I hate surgeons!”
Four nurses and one doctor were kittens, and the most impressive one was Melissa. She dressed up in a Lady Vampira outfit, with the fake black long hair and full make up. Her choice of costume was really appropriate because her job is to get the blood out of you.

I worked half day that day. Then off to school to be the party helper for my kids’ Halloween celebration. Only they called it ‘Harvest/Fall Party’. Whatever. Dante’s Kindergarten teacher was kind enough to let the kids wear any costume they like as long as they leave the scary masks and weapons at home. Dante chose Darth Vader this year. Davi’s second grade teacher, on the other hand, sent home a notice a week before Halloween that they’re doing a Fall/Harvest theme instead. So after we purchased her chosen costume (Vampire Princess), I had to come up with a different idea so she won’t be in trouble coming in as a vampire. Just one day before Halloween, I walked to a nearby Goodwill store and bought a pair of old baggy jeans (couldn’t find an overall, unfortunately), a plaid shirt, and a pair of old boots. I found a farmer’s hat at Kmart that night, and I also bought fake Fall leaves that I stapled on the shirt and jeans to give that ‘farmer look’. Further enhancement was a trip to our backyard and rubbing the jeans on the dirt for that ‘dirty look’.

The night of Halloween, it was my turn to stay at home to answer for the trick or treaters. Again, bigger kids had no courtesy at all. No more eagerness of the shriek “Trick or treat!!!”. When the door bell rang, I automatically grab the candi bowl, then open the door. The bigger kids would just grabbed the candies and go away with a quick mumble of ‘Thanks’. How polite.

Hubby took the kids walking around the neighborhood for the trick-or-treat. Davi finally got the chance to wear her vampire costume, while Dante’s still on his Darth Vader outfit. Hubby did report that the kids were very polite and say ‘Trick or Treat!’ properly along with ‘Thank You’. Dante even said ‘Gracias!’ at one point. They left the house about 5:45pm and returned at 7:00pm. After supper, they asked us how many candies they could have. Hubby and I looked at each other, we really don’t want them to eat all the candies, but we also hate to be the meany. Hesitantly, hubby said, “Five” and the kids instantly replied, “Thank you Mom and Dad! You’re the best!”

Wow… we must’ve done something right raising the kids. They didn’t try to bargain for more at all…

more pictures click here…

Failed. Again.

Stupid fights.
Stupid PMS.
Stupid hotheadedness of mine.
Stupid traffic jam.
Stupid rude, impatient people.

I gave in. After trying to ‘deal with it’ for a week, I broke down. Went to get my fix. Smoking again. Argh!

Wish there’s a Nicotine Anonymous or something like that. The Quitline thing isn’t really working for me. I prefer to talk to somebody in person instead of calling a 1-800 number. You know, get a ‘nicotine buddy’ or a ’smoking counselor’ whom I’d be able to call when I’m in a pickle and need somebody to talk me out of buying a cig. This sucks…

Addicted to It

Today is the 40th day of my smoking cessation. Can’t really say it was tough, although it wasn’t a walk in the park either. For the last 7 or 8 years, smoking was not a ‘craving’ thing for me anymore. Meaning that I don’t have to have a cigarette right after I woke up in the morning, right before breakfast. Sure, I was like that in my younger single year, back home. But since I moved here, with the kids and everything, smoking was an on/off habit to me. Definitely off during both pregnancies and when the kids were smaller. Then on again afterwards.

I started smoking when I worked as a journalist, back in 1996. I was twenty three, although the very first time I tasted cigarette was in high school. Working as a journalist with 90% male coworkers who most of them were (and still are) smokers, I became one too. Especially because back then, there was no such thing as ’non smoking work place’. Everybody knows that Indonesia’s like the smoker’s heaven, one could smoke almost wherever and whenever. Even in an air-con room. Watching my seniors typing up an article, kretek on their mouth, and a mug of hot black coffee nearby; I thought that was the coolest thing ever. One said, “It helps my writings.” I thought he was bull shitting me. But after a while, I experienced it myself. It did help me focus, especially when deadline’s approaching.

Since I mostly hung out with them outside work, plus my best friend was also a smoker, that nasty habit had gotten into me even deeper. In a club, in a car, after a meal, while waiting, on the phone, when I talk, almost all the time. First thing I look for after I got up in the morning would be my Marlboro Menthol (or Sampoerna Menthol -clove cigarette with menthol, imagine that- when I broke). Before bed, right before I brush my teeth, was the ritual of smoking; just to complete the day, I suppose.

But here, after the morning sickness, breastfeeding and all (plus the limitation of places to smoke), that habit has been deteriorating. It’s now more like a habit, something I’d automaticcally do after a meal or when I drive. It had found a different ‘purpose’. I found it relieving to smoke when I got stressed out. I told my super nice doctor, that when I got frustrated or depressed, smoking really helped calming myself down. I felt that as I exhaled, my trouble would blown away with the smoke. “Yeah, very poetic. However, lame excuse,” he said. Ouch!

I have not had a cigarette since August 1. At that time, we took a fishing trip up north to help us through it. We thought, it’d be easier to be away and actually doing some activities, instead of trying to quit and stayed at home doing nothing. We went to Ashby, MN for the fishing part and to Minneapolis, MN for the ‘city’ part. I got a chance to have a lunch with an Indonesian friend and her hubby. The trip went quite OK. Not perfect, but OK. I also had a ‘breakdown’ about five days ago, due to a PMS-related reason, and I did two puffs. That’s it. I threw it away immediately because it tasted horrible.

Whoever say that quitting smoking is easy, must not been a heavy smoker. Nicotine addiction is so evil. I know this from a personal experience. The withdrawal is so painful for the person who’s quitting, and being near that person isn’t so fun either. But unlike alcohol addiction which could harm other people beside the user, no police officer would stop your vehicle in the middle of the night and as, “Sir, have you been smoking cigarette a lot tonight?” No judge would order you to go to a jail then rehab for smoking 2 packs of Marlboro a day. There’s no ‘punishment’ nor authority pressure to have someone successfully quitting smoking. A smoker is on him/herself to try to quit. A help from family/friend and probably smoking aids (patches, gums, medicine, etc) would help. But most of all, you’re on your own. When a cigarette maker blatantly lied that ‘it is not addicting’, I was so mad because it is too!

28 (Age That I Wish I Could Go Back To)

If I could go back to a certain age, I wish I could be twenty eight again.
That’s when I started living; to have a son, after a daughter.
She came first, boy was I glad the 9 months of waiting’s finally over, that’s for certain.
To finally meet and hold her that day, 03/02/01 at 02:03 am, so much tears and laughter.

Nineteen months later, a boy entered our life.
What was three then, soon becomes four.
This addition made our days feel like the dance of jive.
I couldn’t ask for more.

I want to go back there again, my sweet.
Just couldn’t believe you two have grown so fast.
I miss your firsts: giggle, step, tooth, word… what a treat!
Reminiscing the raspberry-blowing competion… what a blast!

Davi, remember when we first take you into the pool?
You were still a month young, for crying out loud.
Then two weeks later, we took you on a plane half way around the world, were we a fool?
Na’ah; since you are now a well-traveled girl and open minded, we’re so proud.

Dante, I will never forget those trips to the ER late at night.
You’re prone to earache, and the Otolaryngologist suggested ear tubes.
I was in Jakarta when Dad called that you’re going to have a mini surgery for that, I was in fright.
USA-Indonesia-USA within a week really made me like a dupe.

So now, you’ve grown up and all.
You even posted ‘Stay Out’ on your door (but Mom’s OK, said Dante) with ‘No Entry’ sign.
No more onesies… you’re growing tall.
How come a 7 year old girl and an almost 6 year old boy are so busy, we need to unwind.

I do think time has gone too fast.
You got too busy with work, next thing you know, your kids prefer to spend time with friends.
How I wish your childhood will last…
But life goes on; as I watch you grow, fliping through your old pictures is the only way to keep those memories in my brain.

[Feel free to blame both Rima and Anita for this mushy entry. They tagged me to write a post about 'Age That I Wish I Could Go Back To'. Now, I'm going to tag Pelopor, Ukirsari,  Melly, Luigi, and Vita. Can't wait to read yours!]

Rules:
Title: Age That I Wish I Could Go Back To
Requirements: Write a post about a certain age you’d want to go back to and why
Tag mode: List 5 bloggers you want to tag and link their sites; let them know that they’ve been tagged by posting a comment on their blog

I Started Monday with a Bang!

Literally. I got a hair cut Sunday afternoon, I told them it’s just for a trim. But like I mentioned in my previous post, I’ve never had a good experience with hair stylist in this country town. I don’t know why. All I wanted was just a simple trim for my hair and more ’sweepies’. I’d like to keep my hair long. Instead, they cut about 2 inches of my hair and gave me bangs. It’s not that I dislike bangs -I do believe it’ll look cute for some people- but the last time I had bangs was like seventeen years ago! I’m not used to see my face in the mirror with bangs.

“Soooooo… what do you think?” asked the hair stylist.
“Umm, okay. Eh heh,” I replied with a weak laugh.
“Your hair is so fine. If you don’t like the bangs go this way, just use a hair product and put it sideways like so,” she said as she applied some kind of hair pomade to my bangs and thugged them to the side to create ’sweepies’.

I really didn’t want to spend extra money on hair products. Especially if it’s just for the bangs. I’ve had too many hair products already, from the Sunsilk Anti Flat’s collection. I know it’s not the hair products like Redken, American Crew, Aquage, or Biosilk. But I’m happy with my cheapo Sunsilk, and it helps.

So when I got home, hubby who’s never seen me with bangs since the first time we met, commented, “Hey… nice bangs!”
“Oh shut up.”
“Why? You look great.”
“For some reason, you don’t sound very convincing.”
“It’s just… different, hun. You’ll get used to it.”
“Really… shush.”

Then comes Monday. Getting ready to go to work. It took freakin’ 15 minutes for me to get the freakin’ bangs right. I usually put some Sunsilk Anti Flat Weightless Volumizing Creme on my damp hair after shower, and just leave my hair air-dried (or occasionally hair dry it when I have extra time). But for some reason, the bangs won’t cooperate with me this morning. No matter what I do, it’s just not right!

Grrr…

Flood Season?

Felt like we just got done with Winter. Snowstorm, snow and sleet, snow this, and snow that. We were bombarded with the snow, it made the transition from Winter to Spring rather unnoticeable. I honestly felt like Spring was not going to happen at all.

And now, while Spring is finally here [and almost gone], it was not behaving nicely either. Apparently Lady Spring thought, “Well, if Father Winter could do it, I can too!” And swoosh… came down the rain. Lots and lots of them. Four to even seven days straight full water/hail pouring down from the sky. Our county has gone from thunderstorm watch, thunderstorm warning, flood watch, flood warning, flash flood watch, flash flood warning, tornado watch, and tornado warning. Because of the thunderstorms at night, the kids have been sleeping with me (including Max, our pet) while Dad evacuated himself to the basement. The four of us on my bed curled up like shrimps, close to each other, with our heads under the pillows; attempted to reduce the boom! noise and the bright lightning. 

Midwest has been hit the worst by the rain. Iowa, mostly. Many places were either flooded or hit by a tornado. Late May, a tornado hit Parkersburg, IA; killed 7 people and injured at least 50 people. Parkersburg is about 83 miles from Ames -the town we live in- and only 30 miles away from where my in-laws live: Denver, IA. One of my husband’s cousins live there and her house was flattened by the tornado and is now homeless. Looking at the aerial picture of Parkersburg after being hit (or video)was like looking at a demolished war zone. No buildings remain, just piles of debris. One could not tell where downtown was anymore, or location of houses. Can’t quite tell where one used to live, because the street name was blown away and other landmarks were destroyed.

About a couple of weeks later, a twister hit Little Sioux Scout Ranch (advanced Boys Scout camp) in western Iowa, near Nebraska state line. The twister struck as Iowa, like other midwestern states, was dealing with severe flooding along the upper Mississippi River. Four children were killed, while 40 were injured. From what I read, there was a group of scouts who were out hiking at the time of disaster. Seriously, weren’t they aware that bad weather is approaching? Don’t they have some kind of weather alert system, radio, or TV? But I guess there’s no point in questioning all this. Don’t cry over spilt milk, they said. 

The overflow Cedar River forced Cedar Rapids, IA, to evacuate the Mercy Medical Center hospital. Isn’t that crazy? How’d you able to evacuate hundreds of patients in a hurry? Post op patients, elderly patients, patients on wheelchairs, not to mention complicated ones; what a frantic situation I bet it was. The engorged river flowed through Cedar Rapids’ downtown. Hundreds of city blocks were under water, and in some neighborhoods the water was 8 feet high.

Des Moines, Iowa’s capital city, was also flooded. Many of its resident left after a voluntary evacuation request issued on Friday, June 13. So was Burlington, Coralville, Davenport, Iowa City, and more.

The town we live in, Ames, was not flooded as bad as those towns. ‘Just’ a golf course and a couple of streets/parks were flooded. I was actually driving on one of the main road one day, going from work to downtown. I was amazed when I drove back for the same route, the road was closed because it was flooded. I was just driving on it 35 minutes ago and it was fine! The raging South Skunk River was just overflowing so fast, the officials weren’t anticipating it at all, I guess. Judging from the last minute road closed and traffic detour. What usually takes 15 minutes ended up being a 45 minutes deal due to traffic.

   

Last Saturday we went on road trip ’to see the flood’. I know it sounded sad, but we were just intrigued. We heard that the U.S. Highway 30 between Boone and Ogden had to be closed because of the flood. We usually drove on that road to go to a state park, and the scenery around it is so pretty. Not boring flat or corn field-y like most of Central Iowa’s scenery, but hilly and curvy. We weren’t the only ones who were touristing the sites, others too. They were just watching… being a curious human being. Some were taking pictures/videos, and some went kanoeing! I couldn’t believe it… some people were actually took their canoe, loaded it up on top of their vehicles, took their kids along with them, drove there, and went kanoeing! That’s pretty risky, I thought.

Now that the rain had stopped pouring like crazy, the flood had decreased little by little. Everybody’s question is now, “What’s in the water?” Other than mud, there’s some scary shit stuff in it like naxious brew of sewage, farm chemicals and fuel. I read somewhere in the paper that the water just reeked of pig feces and diesel fuel in Oakville. Ugh, I couldn’t even imagine how horrible that is.

What about the stress level? Your belongings are destroyed or long gone, you have to live in a shelter (mostly a high school gym) with strangers, the worn out volunteer and Iowa National Guard who was working on the levees, you either still have to clean up your super messy house or find a way to rebuild your house, your medications were swept away by the flood, questionable of safe water to drink, tetanus from the nasty water if they got a cut/laceration, and not to mention mosquitos.

How stressful. It’s probably not as bad as The Great Midwest Flood 1993, but still…

PS: Thanks to the writer, for your concerned comment in my ‘Saya’ page. We’re safe and fine. Our part of Iowa is on a higher ground. 

Why Shouldn’t Women Raise the Toilet Seat Up When Done?

The sign says:

“AS A COURTESY TO OTHER GUESTS OF THIS BATHROOM, PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU PUT THE TOILET SEAT DOWN WHEN YOU ARE DONE.”

Obviously, this sign is adressed to the male guests. Apparently, there’s a female worker (I’m pretty sure it’s a she) in our building who is bothered by the lack of ‘tolerance’ showed by those testosterone guests. When she couldn’t tolerate it anymore, she took it out with a help of her trusted Microsoft Office Word. She created some signages and walked around the building, armed with double-sided tape, posting the signs in the staff’s bathrooms.

“That just makes me NOT want to do it ever,” scoffed a male coworker.

I know I’d be like, “Oh man!” if I walk into a bathroom and found the toilet seat is up.  Escpecially if the previous male user of the bathroom missed his aim and it’s all over the toilet rim. But that’s about it. I’d lower it down and continue to finish my business. I don’t go about and make protest signs. This happens in my house too from time to time, as dad and son are competing on who’d do that often.

Is it a dogma for men to lower the toilet seat down automatically when they’re done? When was this established, actually? Who declared it? Why not the other way around? Is it because the society is female-dominated? Or is it because of men are taught to always put ladies first? Have you heard of guys expect women to raise the toilet seat up when done?

I’m just curious…