boys will be boys

The last time I went to visit my boyfriend, somehow I managed to get engaged.

I said “I managed” (instead of “we managed”) because of a theory I recently thought out. I hypothesized that:

1. The culture we belong to influences our dating style (for the sake of simplicity, I made a Great Cultural Divide between West and East)
2. Western guys (the bules) tend to resist falling in love; Eastern guys tend to find ‘the one’ fairly easily
3. Eastern guys, however, after being in a relationship, tend to shy away from lifelong commitment; Western guys fall into that status fairly easily (provided they already found their lifemate)

I know a bule who dated an endless line of girls during high school and college, and resisted staying in a relationship for longer than 6 months. Then suddenly he met a wonderful girl, decided she’s his love of a lifetime, fought for her, overcame differences (and his allergy for ‘exclusive’ relationship), and off he married her. The chain of events seemed to go in an uninterrupted flow.

I also know a Chinese guy who dated his high-school sweetheart for 11 years, never experiencing on-and-off periods (like other puppy love couples), but still felt he’s not ready to commit himself to marriage. In the end the girl got tired of waiting for him and married another guy.

So, the next stage of my hypothesis goes as follows:

1. Western guys stay in their boyish mindset UNTIL they meet their lifemate; only then would they start maturing up
2. Eastern guys stay in their boyish mindset UNTIL they decide to get married; only then would they start maturing up
3. (Although, to be honest, I never believe that boys can be anything other than boys

Going back to my opening statement: because I haven’t figured out the real reason both categories of guys decide to ‘take the next step’, I concluded that it must be due to some external force. In my case, the ‘external force’ would probably be me. Although what exactly did I do, I don’t know…

Ah… but all is well.

fool’s love

Tell me then, does love make one a fool or do only fools fall in love?

Love is the ability to make the invisible visible and the desire always to fell the invisible in one’s midst.

From “My Name Is Red”, Orhan Pamuk

parallel worlds

It’s not some far-fetched scientific romance or Huxleyan novel. We live in parallel worlds, with its own governments, its own social order, its own miseries and victories.

Say I’m a young career woman working in shopping center management, I like reading and writing novels, and I participate in a choir. So my parallel worlds consist of: workplace (further divided into: retail industry, Indonesia region, management), art community (with subcategories: writers, singers, photographers),  and status (under: career women, second generation Chinese Indonesians, the affluents). Not to mention oddball categories like: people who are good in analyzing data, people who lived abroad, etc.

Within those worlds I have a separate identity, I occupy differing social order, I attain certain status. Am I making you confused? Maybe the simplest way to break it down is this way: each world has its own CELEBRITIES. In my singers world I worship world-class divas and I don’t count much as a photographer, but in the clique of career women, people look up to me.

So a person who is nothing in world A can be a celebrity in world B. The worlds can be as narrow as you make it (appendicitis surgeons, hurricane hunters, non-profit workers in Mali), and it will still have its own social order.

I think it’s born out of our need (that is, us self-centered humans’ need) for recognition. It may not be conscious, and in itself it will create nothing (just a craving to be famous maybe), but a collective unconscious create these parallel worlds, so we can excel in at least one of our parallel worlds.

wOrKlIfE

yep.worklife is affecting my mind.cut my brain and it’ll look like some rorschach monster.it’s taking too much memory space,i’m running out of built-in RAM.i lost my writing mood,i lost my chatting mood,i even lost my calling-boyfriend-mood.

butterflies

I saw a school of butterflies, flitting up and down around a tree crowded by red blossoms. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, blinding me sometimes, shielding the delicate yellow wings from my sight. They flipped, flirted, three-some-ing and enjoying the gentle breeze that almost seemed to blow them away from their flight.
I don’t know what they meant. More than anything, they’re a good omen for me. It’s not weather change. It’s not good weather. It’s not pretty blossoms. It’s not fragrant flowers. Maybe it’s a foresight of a good day ahead that attracted them.
Their wings sprayed pollens of tenderness, every flap a tranquil whisper of peace. They know only to fly and feed on sweet nectar. They know not despair, or sadness, or envy. And at least at that instant, they know not pain. If only we could live like the flight of the butterflies. Weightless, carefree, a mirror of happiness, total surrender to God, at peace with everything.

Recently I’ve been thinking about all vanities in this world. Fashion, status, knowledge, even health. Accumulation of which doesn’t mean a thing. At the end it will be a straight line, a nothing. Zip. And what matters is not who we are for others, not who we are for ourselves, but who we are in front of Him who judges everything with justice.

You gotta know / this much is true / I love you / to my best knowledge / of what love means
And I’m learning / to love you more / but this love of mine / is for who you are at heart / not outwardly / not emotionally
I love you