the world is my SECRET-KEEPER

Okay. This post is long, long, long overdue. So when I started writing this post I promised myself I wouldn't redo it anymore, and that I'd stick with it, and write it out. So that's what I'm doing. (We will ignore the fact that I already erased and rewrote it twice).

"There are two kinds of secrets: those we keep from others, and the ones we hide from ourselves." --Frank

PostSecret is (by now) a well-known blog on which 'Frank' posts up secrets that people mail to him on postcards. Crudely decorated or intricately designed; with messages scrawled on in natural handwriting or sneakily typed up and pasted, the secrets and confessions flip over to show a different side to the people we know. The postcards up there could have come from someone two houses away and we wouldn't know it.

What I find incredible about PostSecrets is the honesty with which these people speak. There are, of course, the heated postcards that have devil-horns drawn on the heads of anonymous people who 'broke my heart' and 'never came back'. And then there are secrets you'd really rather never know about. But the most powerful messages are the ones on which people have penned in their feelings; slowly forming the 'l's and dotting the 'i's on their heartfelt confessions and bolt-locked secrets that the world will understand but never know.

Why though?

Even as I write this I am contemplating the possibility of any one of my friends sending a secret to Frank, it amuses/surprises/interests/confuses/..... me to think any of them would. It gives me the same mixed emotions to think one of these secrets could reflect their feelings. In addition to that--it makes me want to laugh or shut up completely when I think about how some of them (secretly) are confessions I would make. And I wonder to myself how many of these secrets you could claim for yourselves.

I wonder what you would think; what you would say to yourselves at the sight of your own secret and confession available for the world to see, and I wonder if it would make you feel better to know someone else could think and feel the same way. I wonder if it really does make you feel relieved to shout out your secret for the entire world to see and realize that no one will ever really know.

One of the cards I once saw (which I tried but couldn't find anywhere on the net anymore) said that "I don't trust my friends. The world is my secret-keeper," and for me it summed up everything there was about PostSecret--it explained why people became dependent on it; continued to send secrets to it and confided in the thousands of nicknames and identities that they will never connect to individual faces. It explained why it was so much easier to confide in the world than in your friends.

Because the world will judge but it cannot see; it will condemn but it cannot sentence; it will tell but it cannot betray; it will understand but it can never, never know.

Don't Blink

Disclaimer: This piece of literature was written, inspired by the book Annie John by Jamaica Kincaid. I mean to offend no one, and I really do hope no one will get offended. Honestly, I am desperate. I owe my blog mates and my English teacher about 4 blog entries, not including this one.
Hey Miss Jess, I've never written a fictional story as a blog entry before, so don't kill me for this one.           

The picture in the catalogue had lied. This could not be Ivanka.
          So we’ve been away from each other for three pathetic years and now here she is, looking at me with her sultry smile.
          On paper.
          On paper and all over the pavement; stepped on, spat on, rained on. It’s Ivanka, alright, and suddenly my stomach churned at a thought. I will marry her.

***

          ”Why do you need my black Amex, Sam?”
          ”Because I can’t afford her,” I confessed.
          ”Isn’t she supposed to be in Antarctica or something?” he lit a cigarette. “She must be freezing in clothes like that.”
          He laughed. I couldn’t, and I didn’t even bother correcting. The smoke from his menthol stick irritated me. I looked at Darrel in the eye, begging him with a stare. He knew.
          ”Just give it back to me before Christmas. Ya’ know I gotta do some shopping.”
          ”I’ll marry her by then, Bro’.”
          I left his duplex and whistled for a yellow cab. It’s the only cab I trust around here. In a neighborhood like this, not much can be trusted. Sometimes I wonder why a rich man like him even picked this area in the first place.
          I closed the door and texted my employer for my night shift.
          ”The Waldorf-Astoria,” I instructed.
          And the engine continued roaring.

***

          I started planning on the purchase the moment my shift was over. Should I go pay for it on-line or should I just march in there right now? The process would take forever and it’s way too cold to walk this late.
          I stretched my tired legs.
          I thought of Darrell and of how lucky I am to have a brother like him.
          And of how after three messy years, I am finally going to have my dream come true.
Mom would be extremely disappointed and dad would turn fast and furious, but she is my dream and I will do just anything to have her with me. I cried myself to sleep that night and hated myself for being so sensitive.

          I skimmed through the catalogue, hoping for a miracle. A discount. A coupon. Anything. Because when this card hits the machine, I would begin my life-long loyal service to D. But Ivanka’s worth it. She’s worth every penny.

***

          I braced myself for what I was about to do. I knocked on the door and waited. And waited. And waited.
          The door’s creaking sound made me cringe. And there she was, beautiful as ever.
          “Will you marry me?” I rushed.
          “You know I can’t.”
          ”But I love you.”
          ”But my husband’s job is very demanding. I’m moving to LA soon, Sam,” she explained.           “You know we can’t be together.”
          ”How much? I’ll pay however much you want me to.”
          ”I’m no longer for sale.”
          And then I just went right up and kissed her. Strangely, Mom came into my mind. She would die if she finds out. It’s not that Ivanka’s married, it’s not that she is Russian; it’s not even the fact that she was once a prostitute. It’s that my mom’s a Christian.
          And Ivanka’s a woman.
          And I’m a woman.

m a k e UP

My Appalingly Retarded (exactly) 100 Word Drabble.
Note: I felt like being dramatic, in actuality I kind of like playing with make up. This post however, is more than just about make up, its how we trick ourselves into believing things that would make our lives, easier.

.

Make up, and all forms of beauty enhancers and concealment never cease to go out of style. Decades and centuries left this mechanism unchanged.

Forms and advancement to manipulate ones beauty get even more deceiving, but it’s not because of purely capitalistic attempts to increase revenue, but it’s because of us, our desire to fool others only augments.

Cream, pink, green and black are meticulously crafted onto our faces.

We continue our tireless tirade to trick. Painting layer after layer onto our faces.

Whitewashing any unpleasant blemishes.

Deluded enough to think that with enough make up, we can be, perfect.

.

Politics, Why I Care.

Note: You'd probably notice lots of grammar errors and structural flaws, for that I apologize in advance, but other than Ms. Jess, DO Ignore it.

Twas a sad day for me, the holidays were to end in several day and I just popped in the last DVD of the last season of my favorite TV show. The saga to which I have repeatedly counted on in order to find some amusement and inspiration, was about to end.

It was a long journey. I watched its first episode with skepticism, only to find myself soon engrossed and thoroughly became a fanatic of the series.

Hundreds of episodes and months later, I finally watched every single episode of The West Wing.

I remembered the tears that rolled down my cheek, the heart beat levels raised due to a particularly great speech, the grins and laughter ensued after a particularly witty line.

The West Wing.

Wasn't that type of show that leaves people unchanged, it was a show you either loved, or was thoroughly bored by.

(All West Wing fans would note however that only Seasons 1-4 were the ones good enough to be watched over and over again, the rest is as frustratingly annoying as Sorkin's cocaine addiction)

The West Wing, was the show that propelled me to political awareness, a show that taught me things, things I will not bother to list.
But most of all, The West Wing showed me one fundamental thing that I taught I never had within me.

Optimism.

The sheer glowing hope that not all governments and politicians will succumb to bribes and self interest.

A profound realization hit me when President Josiah Bartlett from The West Wing declared, “Decisions are made by those who show up.”
Decisions and improvements in our government can only be done and implemented if we implement it ourselves. We (by this I mean me and 90% of Indo Chinese Youngsters) hide behind this mask of ‘We’re of Chinese decent, politics is not something we can be involved in.’

Perhaps there is an undeniable truth to that, the time will never be ripe for a Chinese Indonesian President. But as less prominent yet powerful posts as Ministers and influential advisers has been achieved.

Yes we may be skeptical about the present, but why be so morose about the future, a future that you can change. A future where those corrupt imbeciles are already dead and haven’t produced equally corrupt underlings.

Indonesia’s New Generation often forgets they have something going on for them, time & youth. The same youth that is often enjoyed but not utilized. I could cry out defiantly for my peers and countrymen to cling to hope and stick to idealism but as I have a less than enchanting oratory skills and still a high schooler, that would probably just result in me being thrown to a mental institution.
Nevertheless I’m still optimistic that not all of Indonesia’s Youngsters are duds.

Perhaps this haphazard and pathetic rally for hope can less insane if you note the fact that I and most of my peers are growing up in a country and a community where we cheer and are thoroughly pleased at suddenly being on the Top 50 Most Corrupt Country List rather than the Top 10, I have been unconsciously presuppose the worst in government, and to think that the best it could do is get less-worse.

Us, always picking a political candidate of a Known-Evil and a Lesser-Evil.
(*cough Fauzi Bowo vs. Adang Dani*)

Perhaps this topic is over exemplified and dramatized, but I’m exhausted by this apathetic, ignorantt and this oh-so-cynical who-cares-about-politics-it's-never-going-to-change point of view, that is often said in a pseudo-intellectual manner. Don’t we realize that through this we audaciously declare our defeat.

That our abject pessimism and this, I don't care about my government, I'll just make myself RICH way of thinking that is hindering this country's future.

Any interests in renewing and rejuvenating the country is irrevocably seen as naively disillusioned. (by that i meant me and Rach’s interest).

Anyone genuinely interested and aware of politics is seen as abnormal, weird, and an odd overachiever.

Has this attributed to this hell hole of infectious skepticism, apathy and political and social stupor?

In this day and age where being lazy but achieving good grades is seen as admirable and 'cool', I often wonder, who's at fault? Is our ignorance a fanciful way to protect our self from the gnawing reality that is our future, a way of adapting to this indefinite and often unchangeable ineptitude that is Indonesia's government?

Is our ignorance simply our immunity shot?


It may be. But I refuse to succumb to such deplorable simplicity.

Stephanie owes three blogs.

Stephanie owes three blogs.

Stephanie T********* owes three blogs.

Stephanie is appalled that this stupid Microsoft Word spell checker does not recognize her last name. She vows to herself that ONE DAY, all Microsoft spell checkers will recognize her last name, due to maybe her actions or her..one of her cousins actions.

Stephanie has a middle name, it is Andini. This makes Stephanie’s initials interesting, S.A.T.

Stephanie has no idea what she is writing; she is rather apologetic about this particular stroke of insanity.

Stephanie is poking Alice.

This is Stephanie’s next blog post.

Stephanie is sad Alice had just insulted her blog post.

She pokes her again, Alice is annoyed. Dot dot dot.

Stephanie is about to poke Jessica.

But she more like elbowed her rather than poking.

Dot dot dot 

Jessica poked Stephanie’s stomach instead while sighing and rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Stephanie is sitting rather sluggishly in her double Economic class.

Alice said it ‘Ran Out’ rather randomly and to no one it particular then continued writing her Econ notes.

Stephanie is succinctly said, VERY BORED. She hears some comments uttered by a classmate.

Stephanie thinks what that classmate said is very stupid, she thinks this classmate is an ignorant moron who makes her think that free speech is not a really good idea.

Stephanie has more mean thoughts that she cannot mention here. Regardless, she thinks that he is still an idiot.

Stephanie still has an urge to poke Alice but fears her reaction to Stephanie will be... violent....

Alice said Stephanie should publish this on her blog. Stephanie shakes her head, this entry is rather dumb.

She’s embarrassed by the lack of intelligence this thingie is currently showing.
Up to this point, there are only two hundred ninety eight words.

It really is, well, was anyway.

Stephanie is still bored.

Stephanie is rather afraid of her blogmates response to this particular blog, it probably just made Monochromatic Rainbow seem really retarded.

Stephanie has just insulted that person out loud. At least she’s not a two faced hypocrite.

Stephanie is very proud to insult this classmates lack of intelligence.

This classmate deserved it. That person beat Alice? Sure he/she will, his/her weight will…

Stephanie grinned.

Stephanie is not mean, she’s truthful, she really cannot stand idiots being obnoxious, pretentious and belittling to her.

Stephanie yawns, her moronic entry stops here.

Igkh, China

Many predict that in twenty to thirty years, China will overtake America’s economy and become the world’s greatest economy. To the Chinese – in and out of China, - this serves as a shining beacon of hope. These people hope that in the supposed future-bound victory of the oriental dragon, they will be finally viewed equal to the Caucasians and Japanese – the crème de la crème of international society.

The tragedy is that despite my obviously Chinese appearance – with the characteristic one-line eyes, pear-shaped nose, and pale yellow skin – I am not one of those people. Rather than basking in the joys of this hope, I drown in lamentations of the possibility that in its increasing momentum, Chinese culture, mainly its language of ugly complexities will overtake American culture and the language of which I am currently writing with.

These nightmarish speculations are, however, merely speculations – as nightmarish as they may be. English is already deeply rooted in world society – from England’s colonial dominance – to America’s twentieth century cultural dominance, that a gigantic shift between two languages of completely different characteristics is highly unlikely. The likelihood of the world being forced into dumbly memorizing three thousand characters is outlandish – simply because most of us aren’t willing or sharp enough to do so.

It is, of course, moronic to believe that an economy reliant on inferiorly copying and manufacturing American/Japanese/European products will overtake the economies responsible for the original innovation and artistic developments. After all, the land is known as a land of unoriginality and aesthetic distaste, that for the 2008 Beijing Olympics, they consulted with Caucasians for its architectural and systematic development. Sure, these people invented the compass, gunpowder, paper, whatever. But that was ancient – many centuries ago. It has since devolved and only recently did that devolution halt to a positive outlook for the nation.

It doesn’t stop there. Chinese music has never been viewed as one of high sophistication – contrary to the great music produced by Europeans. Their opera singers sound like drunken idiots shrieking, and while Western music have left boybands and their effeminate crud behind in the nineties, the people of the orient are still caught up in the inferior Eastern renditions of melodramatic vomit – F4, rain, Jay Chou, that lot.

The exponential growth China is currently experiencing is like the growth Europe and America experienced in their industrial revolutions. Today, while America, Europe, and Japan are already moving from the information era to the biotech era, China – still predominantly a land of primitive peasantry – is only moving from its agricultural era to its industrial era – leagues behind its Western and Nippon counterparts.

Economic dominance does not always result in the same occurring for cultural realms. Take a look at the USSR, whose political and economic dominance spanning for over half a century did not result in the global popularization of Soviet culture and language.

Why I rant about things that are decades ahead of our time is – in truth – due to this overwhelming fear of the things everyone predicts – and a secret fear that for once, my foolish father may actually be right.

On Communism. (Yes, again. Blame my History EE)

Disclaimer: I'm not a communist. I'm not even a socialist. To me, Communism is (for lack of a better word) retarded.
This blog post is written without any evidence, and yes it is filled with hasty and broad generalizations. But as a friend said to me, "but opinionated articles are much more fun, so who cares"





I am annoyed, I promised myself and several friends that I would be for once positive this week..

Write a happy piece: complementing the world, complementing people and their ideology.

But no, far from the happy-go-lucky smiling me during the daytime, I can't write that way. It seems that all the joy in me cannot possibly be transferred to blogs in general.

So, please just bear with me as I, once again, am the whiny idiot ranting about other people's idiocy. (Ironic, no?)

It all started this bright and sunny afternoon, I just returned from my dentist with a delightful progress report , instead of just idly watching Heroes on DVD, I for once was sparked with a need to be productive, and so.. turned on my Internet and proceeded to research the G30S or Gerakan 30 September (My Extended Essay topic).

Alright, yes, I wasn't being entirely diligent. I Facebooked and YouTubed whilst researching, but the YouTube-ing was rather rewarding, I found this great (yet terribly sad) video of the 1965 Coup and the ensuing Anti-Communist purge.


I watched all 20 minutes of the video and soon happily commented; but what started as a grateful and filled with august comment turned, not so .. positive ..

You see, my outrage and most of my blog entries start with something – or to be more specific (suggestion: add 'to help those with limited brain capacity to process data' in brackets), imbeciles. I must once again apologize, for always (and somewhat conveniently) bashing random Internet people, but seriously...

Westaquil wrote:

"If there are people killed who are not Communists, I feel sympathy. If there are people killed who are Communists, there's nothing to be sad about. The Communists in Indonesia terrorized the rural areas in the lead up to 1965. Of course, this part is always conveniently forgotten."

To be less petty, this sort of sordid mentality is shared by millions of Indonesians. Years of hopeless indoctrination by the state and society has left us Indonesians irrevocably brainwashed and susceptible moronic rants filled ignorance.

But seriously, what is it with this country and its unfathomable hatred of all things related to Communism? Oh yes, they were at fault, oh yes, they have attempted a coup, oh yes they were scheming people all too happy to seize everyone's money and lands. Yes, they were godless people. But they were, and still are, not the direct spawn of Satan nor were they planning to kill everyone within sight.

After all, Communism is merely an ideology, an ideology, that in the hands of dictators and overly-zealous individual advocates, have troubled the life of many. But in the end, that is the works of a Communist, not communism itself. It's always those people in power that corrupts and destroys everything, whether they be a communist or a fascist.

So I'm so terribly distraught over the callous and idiotic fear that resounds every time the word COMMUNIST is uttered.

I questioned my cousin earlier today with a grin of what they taught when I said the word, communist. With a wince she quickly but somewhat hesitantly replied, "Evil, cruel". I just nodded and passed her a plate of Xiao Long Pao to eat, but inside, I can't help but be horribly dismayed at how even the most modern of teenagers today are still stuck in the *oh-my-God-there's-EVIL-Communists* mindset. It's not her fault, I know it is not; there is no one I can't direct all my anger too. But I can't help but be be aggravated by the fact that a single word can invoke such frantic and incomprehensible disgust.

Why are we so boggled up in our misconstrued conceptions? It was not until I choose to do my Extended Essay on Indonesian History that I was finally awaken of the numerous indoctrinations taught to me in my elementary IPS lessons.

An indoctrination still in motion, still unawakened in the mind of my peers, my cousins, my fellow countrymen.