Ex-student At Work

What follows is not a well-balanced argument, nor a good example of how a man’s life should be lived. It contains no perseverance about how I could produce such mindless piece of writing or whatsoever, and so there shall no misleading opinions be deduced after reading this week’s note. I am working now, having a job which turns out to be rather enjoyable than not and essentially serve the purpose of a life cycle, much like anyone of you actually, only that we speak in a quite unparallel universe. Some say that life is much of like a wheel; there are times when you at the bottom point, but soon you will find yourselves at the top too. Wise one I thought. Even Albert Einstein made a quote of his own that life is much like a bicycle and you have to keep moving to maintain the balance. Wise one too I thought, except that he was a bit wrong. The thing is though, Einstein was born in Germany, a country which I believe now and then had no road nails, which are inevitable here. In basic language for people who live in this country, that means a slight chance of having a tire puncture while you pedaling your bike along the dusty streets. Eventually, you will lose your balance and suffer from something Shakespeare had described as “never run smooth”. But I don’t give it a damn because things revolving around are still in very good control, as it turns out.

And it’s the same story too with the course of good life, it did never run smooth. Despite so, it is extremely important to move on and hold onto what we believe in, that things may just work out. After a deliberate consideration, I would say that school life was pretty much pleasurable, though I never develop a sense of missing it like those bunch of hyperbolic melancholies do. However, as a university student, I did find that things going around was more sort of.. let’s say out of control, because there were times where things went a bit wrong: caught speeding on a motorway, had a birthday muffin which unconsciously contained a tiny dose of drag in it, violated public convenience by vomiting on roadside, had security guards’ eyes locked on me while being slightly drunk on a train station. Obviously none of the stories are very inspirational or I am proud of, but it is just a giggle to recall it today and become a sheer joy to remember. Though today, it was a revelation that I passed the medical examination while applying for the job, thanks to the tame dose of marijuana-ish bakery back then. 

"I will never invite my superiors to come over for a dinner at my house."

Now before you leap into conclusion, I shall explain my own theory which separates between study and work life. Now I couldn’t care less of be it a high school or university student, but the essence is you sit in the boxy classroom and find that people around you are actually the same. Well yes, some are blessed with the brain size of a cow’s spleen, but truth be told, we sit in the same height as anybody else and that makes all students firmly grounded to the earth, plenty of oxygen to breath. But obviously, ostensibly, in the olden days the course of going to school or university every morning was more often than not highlighted by a dreary feel, that more quizzes or assignments were up ahead and just maybe, everyone wished to end it soon. However, work life turns out to be nothing but living in Mars where you should stay wide awake while inhaling almost nothing and as a result, you cough or choke rather uncomfortably. In the university, I was once teamed with a bright guy whose study room is nothing but the lab of a geeky pharmacologist who is researching for the anti-serum of Anthrax; it has scrap papers covering the entire flooring instead of ceramic tiles and window frame as bookshelf.  It was by far the most outrageous personality I have ever come across, until last week in the office. Some ginger young lady yelled frivolously after complaining about being unable to dial a phone number via the Bluetooth system in her recently delivered car and therefore, asked for a complete refund of the car she had bought. That particular day certainly didn’t run smooth and after what it seemed like the hubbub of unfashionable haunt, I am afraid that it was not very wise of her to do so, partly because it was just a small electrical infidelity. I might consider for a refund under the case if she dialed home and the system engaged her to a post office in India.

Eventually and since the bright guy could not manage to find an answer to his Anthrax research, he is employed now and welcomes work life as I did. The tire puncture, I mean the ginger young lady also had found a cure to her car’s Blueteeth syndrome, thanks to the boffins at workshop who work brilliantly. I am not in any minute going to suggest that some foul-mouthed customers has killed the motivation of stepping into the office every morning, but the act of returning back into the dull classroom for a post degree study is actually not bad concept either, it was the sense that one could learn something new every single day that dominates, not least of which is the sheer experience of befriending with almost everyone, something which work life misses. It just is because I will never invite my superiors to come over for a dinner at my house, and hopefully people from recruitment department are unaware with this note, because I am.  Until the next posting, enjoy!

Consumerism

This note is especially dedicated to a stranger who just had birthday and invited me to come over for a nice lunch, whilst annoyingly asked about my usual piece of reading material. Truthfully, nothing interesting to write about, so I shall just make up some story to amuse him. So this week I came across with an idea of introducing myself to the principal of consumerism. As a start off, I am a logical customer who tends to put the aspect of reliability on the upper checklist before deciding to take on any goods. It has become a nonnegotiable demand that anything I buy should last and as reliable as a wood burning stove. Some of these things do perform superbly over the years and without any shadow of doubt, I developed a sense of brand loyalty to these products. Not much to your surprise, I rarely replace what I have bought unless if it had broken down or decided to kill itself, which I completely realize is a bit unfathomable. An appropriate example to this outlandish theory would be the cycle of cell phone usage over the years. The first replacement occurred as the old one was stolen by some poor bastard. The other two were replaced as both refused to start and sold with each price cheaper than a pair of weekend movie ticket. The third one did better, but still was shipped away with some majorly noticeable mechanical breakdowns. The last one still runs very well until today and stayed longest than all others. I had it replaced because.. I decided too, naturally as the dawn of consumerism arrives. Another example of insane mechanical ingenuity would be my Playstation game console which I have owned since ages and not once it has broken down, it is unbelievably reliable that I bet I will still be able to play Mario Bros while waiting for the delivery of my grandson at the hospital. Of course, its reliability is something I am very pleased with, but at the same time fed up with too. How could an electrical device last that long and not even once having a single failure within its lifetime?! It is simply jaw-droppingly good.

Obviously, ostensibly, not every product will boast this particular quality; some of it might perform even better. My bike, which I liked very much and unfortunately crashed by a yobbo onto the curb, also has done very well over the years. It visited the workshop regularly for periodical services, had some of its components replaced, though it was plain to see that as the year corked away another season of its youth, the little road-runner started to catch a flu. Its speedometer starts to lie by developing an electrical infidelity, showing 60kph when it feels like the tree passed by is nearly standstill. The rear shock absorber is shyly leaking, even as I am writing now. By tomorrow morning, the rear suspension will be as rock hard as like having granite bolted on it. The list went on with its stolen underbody protector and damaged front fender. Bottom line is, this bloody thing will dig the pocket deeper and yet I haven't had the thought of selling it. Comparably, the mobile phone stayed nearly as long as the bike, however unlike the bike, the mobile phone lacked one small ingredient which preventing me from giving it up: memory. The mobile may have a total of 4Gb storage space, but the bike carries a much much bigger memory in it. Technically speaking, it would be overshadowed by its successors and rivals. The body has the weight of a cathedral coupled with a small engine and as a result, it is a far cry from being an acceleration thrill. The firing unit drifts away from being frugal, not to mention its vibration which is capable of shoving anyone's spine into the head. Despite all these, I am still looking forward to be on the road with it. Naturally, non-automotive people won't get this odd sense of belonging, though I also find it hard to find joy only from collecting mobile phones and staying up late because of having a war in a game console. But it just is a little good old charmer, and that is the end of it.

"This note is especially dedicated to a stranger who just had birthday and invited me to come over for a nice lunch."

Unlike my game console which I reckon still functioning tens of years later, the bike just won't. At some point it has to be sacked away and I chalk this up to an inevitable reason. You see, I never sense that the game console is a representation of social status like any other game maniac does. The mobile phone and car on the other hand prove to be the item which denotes one's social class. Well yes, I would admit that I have spotted a McDonald's delivery boy with his ear stuck on a high-end mobile computer at the time, which presumably was a rather outrageous sight to spot. Still, it was not a Vertu. It would be fair to say that I am an automotive enthusiast, yet the act of going around on a bike will not be much help as to form a self image. This is precisely when consumerism kicks in and it really depends on personal view about stuffs that lift your image. It is despicable, though I only find it applied to things which have wheels. I once saw a single Versace jacket which costs more than the entire clothes I have in my closet, but someone must have bought that otherwise the brand would have gone bust since donkey’s year. Yet up to now, I am quite certain that I will never buy that jacket whilst I could find a jacket with similar form, color, shape, fabric or texture with much cheaper price tag. Though when I could afford the luxury, I would drive a top-range European four-wheeler amidst a traffic jam instead of gets stuck in a dull people-carrier autobox. It is certain that cars are reminiscent shape of social status, yet for some reason, I could not form a response which seals the argument that clothes aren't. At the end of the day, let's face the fact that the doorman at The Ritz won't let me to park a Hyundai i10 on his shiny lobby, but I could still walk into a Louis Vuitton store in Paris while wearing a pair of J-brand cargo pants. It is ashamed that the necessity of having to have a reliable product is slowly corrupted by the greed to show off, but it is the only way the dazzling world of socialites evolves and top end luxurious brand are kept alive by these sort of people. Until the next posting, enjoy!

Dawn of Future Advertising

After two months of staring at blank page, bunch of exciting news eventually stuff the virtually hollow idea bin, and it is my great pleasure to announce that some of them are actually quite an amusement to be written. I may as well write about the intensifying crisis in Libya, but there is a small problem. I know that the president of Libya is called Mouammar Khadafi, yet I stumbled across upon several variations of spelling his sure name as I tried to google this chap. There are in fact Ghadafi, Ghaddafi, Qaddafi, Khadafy and of course, Khadafi. Now, I don’t quite like the idea of having a group of intelligent Libyan military squad knocking on my door step on three o’clock in the morning, charging me with explosive gunfire since I was unable to spell the name of their leader properly in my note. Following this dreadful vision is a refusal to write anything about Libya, although I do wish Libyan people all the very best and hope the country will resort to a stable condition anytime soon.

Moving on. Couple of days ago I saw a poster which advertised about Kitaro holding concert in Jakarta on 7^th April. Later on in the afternoon that day, I received a text message promoting internet-based concert ticket of the hyper media frenzy: Justin Bieber. As for now, I will actually post some comments about this colliding topics altogether. I don’t have all Kitaro’s records, but I like him as a visionary artist who inspires message of world piece to the modern culture through music and I am quite sure that he will mount a successful concert. Now, you might assume that I will comment about Justin Bieber. And you are right. I mean how could possibly someone send a text message about anything to anyone? It really starts to get annoying and on the verge of irritating; I have received hundreds of message sent by numerous incompetent bank officers, offering zero interest loan or credit installment. Then some incompetent bloke does business of selling concert ticket using text message. I mean the world must have gone insane, I could have received a text message just about everything tomorrow, probably whether I am interested in undergoing a cosmetic surgery or joining a ballet-dance course. 

"The simple fact of this useless breakthrough in promotional media is: they lost some dime and I lost some time."

This phenomenon is of course a recent trend in urban society and yet I believe there has been thousands of complains from cell phone users. Interestingly, the most vocal voice comes from users who travels abroad and brought the cell with them. It is generally known that cell providers charge users for roaming fee every time we pick up phone calls or receive text messages abroad, and this is where the problem arises. The travelers are billed with some conspicuous charges for receiving text messages, some of which happen to be sent by incompetent banking officers or other incompetent gadflies. Predictably, users claiming providers were not prompt into action upon this issue and I am sort of with them. Not much to your amusement, I expect text messages fed into my mobile to be either a pleasant surprise or straight away important. For instance, sending out greeting cards by means of short messaging service is fine by me. I did this on various occasions like Christmas, birthdays or New Year, although I still own the essence of being a pedant that sending an actual greeting card is a fashionably proper way of message personalizing to my addressee. Another example of important message is perfectly described by my working colleague who texted me about a performance review presentation on the following day. It was definitely not a nice information, but it was clearly important.

Having the line drawn, I shall clarify my point of view. Firstly, I am sure that those bank officers are well educated and properly bright people, so bright that I was told they traded customer data among banks, which in the language of Uzbekistan means a violation against privacy policy. This explains perfectly about how my friend be text-messaged by a bank officer, who offer him to apply for a credit card, when in fact he doesn't have any fund in that particular bank.  Yes, they constantly say “ignore this message” if I don’t need the offer, however I still find it inconvenient that I have spent even a fractional amount of my time and battery charge of my phone, just to view the message which I was not initially targeted at all. Why won’t they spend a bit more of their energy to ensure that their potential customer could spend less? And then there is the Justin Bieber’s concert, which is presumably not a pleasant surprise and will never make it to be important. Some girls will strongly beg to differ, but I can argue and I will. Here, in Indonesia, and much like everywhere else in the planet, mobile users are obliged to submit their basic information to the providers for database purpose. I distinctly remember that I typed my name correctly, which is a very boyish name. On the contrary, never before in my life had I seen any video footage of Bieber’s concert which includes male audience. Besides, the only reason I become a potential customer of Bieber’s concert is either I decided to be gay or I have no friends at all. The simple fact of this useless breakthrough in promotional media is: they lost some dime and I lost some time. If the people from advertising media claim that they don’t have access to customer database as regards to privacy policy, which I completely refuse to buy, then here’s the top tip: squeeze your brain harder, otherwise you will ruin the artist’s image. Although as a result of this inconvenience, I won’t have bankers fellow to dine on my table and have assumed that Bieber’s popularity has went west. Until the next posting, enjoy!

2011 Resolution

This note was written while I was listening to a German radio station on the evening of Christmas day. Every Saturday I always tune in to catch the top 40 hits program, the radio DJ is cool and so are the music, but since it was Christmas, the playlist was enqueued  with Christmas songs sung by pop artists, which was nice actually. The program runs until 5 pm local time and on this particular day, it started to get me thinking about the radio DJ as he is supposed to be at home surrounded with family members while having roast turkey as dinner menu. When in fact, he was out there sitting in front of computer screens while talking to an emotionless microphone and playing songs for people, who were possibly at home surrounded with their family members while having roast turkey as dinner menu. I hope he left the studio earlier and spent the rest of the day with his family, not in some posh night club in frozen Berlin. I actually had some topics in mind to be written as next year resolution, but thanks to the radio DJ, family time is just included as one of them.

Like previous years, 2010 could really be a good year as university degree is obtained and I managed to secure a job. Looking ahead to 2011, there are couple things which do not promise a good start of the year. Firstly, I will soon be introduced with something called tax, which comes in two disguises: vehicle taxation with potholes on the road and lousy public transport service still be seen; income taxation which so far as I am aware shows not many benefits as it almost certainly be corrupted. Another rather worrying news is, international oil price is currently increasing approaching 100US$ for every barrel. Some economic expert stated that it is merely because increasing demand for fuel in snowy Europe and as soon as spring arrives, the price will return to its psychological level. Don’t exactly get what this “psychological level” means; I just hope it won’t do any damage to my wallet. Nevertheless, only gits welcome a new year with negativities botching into their heads and so I shall turn the table around, in which to this point I will describe something as not good instead of dreadful. So, coming up next year is undoubtedly the long-anticipated job, plenty wishful thoughts on that one honestly. I wouldn’t really care if my boss is murderous, as long as the man is draped in a tremendous amount of patience and welcomes a riddling newbie. In case if you are wondering, I am almost certain that the boss will be a “he”, chiefly because I work as a trainee in a vehicle workshop and it is inevitably dominated by men, although being supervised by a woman will be much more interesting, as long as I don’t get hurled with ratchets or wheel spanners when she goes berserk. Though by contrast, having cooperative and pleasant colleagues with a small hint of competitiveness would be very nice. Another resolution will be a great hope that I don’t have to bring the work home. Having carefully traced back into the olden days, I used to not liking homework very much when I was in high school, and then I loathed it when I went to the university, although the idiom “practice makes perfect” deemed to be right. Homework kills both me time and family time, not once had I been very amused with homework and it will most likely apply next year. In search of solution to this issue, I would make sure to compensate it by working over hour in the workplace. On top of that, the New Year resolution includes me never blabbing about odd interest in posting crappy articles on the internet to my superior, otherwise this note would be accessible to him and I should be dead by then.

 "Wish you have a blissful New Year celebration, enjoy!"

Aside from being a good trainee at work, I don’t really have any wishes else as resolutions. Others might have wishes like quit smoking or stop drinking, whom I wish best of luck, although the irritating truth by the end of the year is they are to be seen with a glass of beer on the left hand, cigarette on the other, while the mouth churning out smoke like a 18^th century coal-fired locomotive.  I neither smoke nor drink, so I am good and moving on. The other day I went out with my acquaintances and one of them insisted that that I looked unmaintained, which I think was a form of euphemism as his face expression explained dishonesty; probably I looked more sort of like a mess in his mind. Yes, again. It was a “he”. Wouldn’t it be any more tragic than accepting attention on how I look from a bloke? Still, despite the bothersome and yet rather unexpected comment, I will consider grooming a bit. And that is as far as it might go.

Concerning writing, next year promises more topics to be written as the job offers a great deal amount of excitement on the paper and a lot of new social experiences. This note therefore marks the last article this year and expects to see a different writing style next year. As a working guy, next year’s articles could be written in a wiser and grown-up manner. Or the other way around, they could get more annoying and contain only complaints, partly because the author is no longer a student and therefore doesn’t exhibit any portions of intelligence à la academicians. Until the next posting, wish you have a blissful New Year celebration, enjoy!

Living Cost

Bad news everyone: Living cost in the world is getting expensive, especially to citizens of Jakarta who could only spare a very little amount of dime to survive, me likewise. The fact is, within one week time I was choked up by news which does not support any whim of living happily ever after, thus this note only contains a bunch of complains and so if you are expecting a piece of writing that is intelligent and entertaining to be read, then I am afraid this would be a disappointment. Soon after getting a job, most people would make plans on how their life would look like in the future and so I do. I plan to be promoted after two or three years of employment period, then get a raise and start considering of personal relationship. But now, the plan is utterly ruined since costs are getting steeper and there will only be literally one cent left to spare. Now, allow me to explain why.   

You see, the government recently introduced two incredible ideas to make an end-of-year celebration. Obviously I don’t understand what has possessed people in the government that they could come up with such ideas. In fact I don’t exactly know what “the government” is, probably like a circus show or something rather, so please excuse myself for not going to law school. Anyway, the first idea is that cars with black license plate are no longer allowed to be refueled with subsidized unleaded fuel starting January 2011, which in the language of Homo sapiens means that private cars must be refueled only with more expensive petrol. It really is a love and hate decision as you could spot several good and negative points. The government says that it would do better on the environment; allowing mosquitoes around my house to live longer. They say it would save 500,000 kilolitres of fuel if the rule is applied within Jakarta and satellite cities area, but again they say a lot of things. Even so, it sounds great although at a cost of damaging my wallet, which could have been severe. Solution? Two-wheeler is untouched by this rule, but I won’t recommend that, because I have one and if you or anyone else get one too, then the road would be clogged up and I can’t go anywhere. Instead, I would suggest you to use public transport, but if you don’t want to, you could register your car as a taxi, because public transport is the only form of automobile other than motorcycle that is unaffected by this rule. Good eh? Save more money, though with a tad unbearable and foul odor by strangers who sit in your car.
  

"Wouldn’t it be an insult to common-sense if I ever consider registering myself as the owner of Mars?"

Instead of registering your car as a cab, another solution to save more money is to cut down on food. Some people might find this idea stupid, me for instance. But as a freshman in early career steps, there are priorities and sacrifices need to be made, and so this is how the idea comes handy and acceptable. The best solution is obviously cook by yourself, but if you don’t have time to do it, you surely then will eat out and it immediately leads to a problem. In hard times like this, I am afraid some places are an irrelevant luxury which should be wisely avoided. Café? Forget it. Restaurant? Drop it. Delicatessen? Only in your dream. Solution? Small-time vendors like Padang canteen or Warung Tegal (warteg) would be best. Tragically, the government is also imposing new tax to these types of establishment, 10% for vendors which make an annual income beyond 60 million IDR. I work out that sum of money is equally about 167.000 IDR per day, which is not a lot and I reckon that is just about selling 30 plates of regular meal in average. Not much to my surprise, pretty much all Padang canteen or Warteg will be exposed to taxation, because selling 30 plates in a day doesn’t sound like beyond-belief. So, if your new year resolution happens to be eating in a Padang canteen that is non-tax collected, you should find one that tastes awful, because that is the only reason they can’t sell more than 30 plates a day.

Truth be told, none of those stories really makes the cut for today’s worry. I was actually very concerned with news coming from Europe, which has been all over the internet and it really is a rather disturbing squabble. It was about a middle-aged Spanish woman who recently registered the sun at a local notary public to make a legal claim of her ownership. Exactly. The Sun, that giant fire ball thing floating about the space. The worst bit is, she wants to charge everyone who uses it and it is very likely that I am included. Of course, anyone might get fishy about where the money would go and so she explained. She said that that she would give half of the proceeds to the Spanish government and 20% to the nation’s pension fund. She would dedicate another 10% to research, another 10% to ending world hunger — and would keep the remaining 10% herself. Also, much to your surprise, the Spanish lady was not suddenly on a whim to claim ownership to the Sun, she took the step after reading about an American man who had registered himself as the owner of the Moon. Immediately after reading the article, I couldn’t help but feeling stupid and hollow, knowing that I didn’t have to go to the university, work my ass off to get a degree, then get a job to pay for fuel or meal tax in a Padang canteen. I could just imitate what the Spanish woman had done, I just need to hire several financial consultants and accountants to handle people paying their monthly “Sun bill”. It did sound utterly stupid but it doesn’t against the law. Seriously, while I was looking for support article to this news, I learned that there is an international agreement that no country may claim ownership to stars or planets, but there has been no rule which regulate about individual ownership. But then, wouldn’t it be an insult to common-sense if I ever consider registering myself as the owner of Mars? Until the next posting, enjoy!

The Elderly

Not quite a distant past, I tested a car with a sales executive from some car dealership. While I was on the wheel and much like other sales, she attempted to break the ice by making some short and meaningless conversations, which are of course unnecessarily related to selling. The chit-chat was fine and we got along famously, until she asked me about what I do. I replied that I had recently graduated, she then congratulated me and I, with a great attempt of trying to be a humble man, thanked her politely. As even bigger surge of curiosity packed up her head, she inquired, “Postgraduate study, I presume?” I swear in the name of my neighbor’s dog, the moment I heard that I nearly slammed on the brake, stepped out of the car and just walk off. On my wildest dream, I don’t care if I stopped the car in the middle of a busy street, I don’t even care how long the queue behind would have been. I demanded her excuse and if she ever said that I looked way too old for my age, I would suggest her not to bother promoting the car since I am not buying it. No, I am not buying her words, but I would still be interested in buying the car; it is factually a good car to drive and to own. She just had to give me an even bigger cut to the listed price of the car and that would be a very apologetic of her to do so.

It should not come as a surprise to me that at the age of twenty something, I have already been labeled with stereotypes that are necessarily related to aging problem by my colleagues, friends, and even my parents. Thanks to the vast vocabulary choice of English, the insult goes on ranging from witty to unsympathetic. Many versions come on the table, but they can essentially be summarized as CO₃, which is conventional, obsolete, and old fashioned and outdated. I am not entirely certain whether they just take a quick glance to my appearance and immediately categorize me as if I was stuck in the bygone era of Beethoven, mostly because I know these people for years and they are well aware that I live in the chic and modern generation of Lady Gaga. Nevertheless, regardless with what people said about my appearance, I personally don’t give a damn about how all these years had corked away another year of my youth. Besides, it is nice to have people around reminding how mature you have become, when in fact the sheer delight comes from the fact that we grow old altogether. Except for that sales executive though, offending a customer is not a wise action and she still has to offer me a bigger discount for the car. I mean it and don’t think that I am a retarded grandfather clock.

"I am afraid that these whole anti-aging products are merely a scheme introduced by the gits in marketing department."

Speaking of outer appearance, two things immediately pop out of my head to improve your looks: plastic surgery and cosmetic product. As for plastic surgery, I am very supportive to those who undergo this procedure, if only they suffer from at least a second degree skin burn or their nose is where the mouth should have been; otherwise I literally could not urge you more not to perform this procedure if you are a fan of Michael Jackson. Meanwhile, as for cosmetic product, I don’t see any reason not to like it either. I like to see girls coloring their lips using crayon. I like to see them styling their hair using foamy fire-extinguisher (Forgot the proper term, given that I am a historical product of my generation). I also like my shaving cream otherwise shaving would be a murderous and blood-spattering experience. If you could spot any resemblance between my points, it improves your looks and it is extremely acceptable. However, there are also some products which I am not so sure about, such as Botox and anything that is labeled as anti-aging substance. I am afraid that these whole anti-aging products are merely a scheme introduced by the gits in marketing department, when in fact I could eat vitamins and antioxidant in the guise of an apple. Still, as long as women exist, cosmetic will be a huge and growing industry. I am happy for the excelling companies, but I certainly hope no one would need to buy any of their products related to anti-aging. Botox? Definitely a no no. I mean crayon on lips and fire extinguisher onto hair are perfectly acceptable, but the idea of having silicon injected beneath your skin is really something beyond common sense. Besides, Simon Cowell admitted to using Botox. I am not quite a fan of him. You conclude the rest.

Obviously, not only appearance does give an important impression of how one can be judged as the elderly, some other elements like manner and maturity also play a big role. I like to go to a folk orchestra concert when others hit rock music festivals; I hate cars with outrageous wheel and ear-attacking engine noise when other boys adore it; I shall have tea when others order coke. In my defense, they are all a matter of taste and are completely detached from stereotypes of oldness. This argument is best proved using the paradox theory introduced by my friend who frivolously thinks that I have a split personality. At times I told my friend to live on the edge several days after I said not to take risk. Sadly, it might just be true as I occasionally listen to upbeat house music; I enjoy driving fast; I might as well knock back a bottle of champagne when others sip a glass of red wine. Most of all, as others call it paradox while I think it is purely dynamic, so I call it mature instead of oldie. And again, don’t think that I am a retarded grandfather clock. Until the next posting, enjoy!

Unconventional Parenting

As part of a generation who lives within the century transition with many adjustments and adaptation to make, the ability to embrace brand new and radical thoughts becomes essential. There are some examples which collaborate this. statement. For instance, a bunch of people who have no friends invented cloning and did it to some sheep named Dolly, Dolby, Dorry or anything similar; United States of America elected the first President who enjoyed eating bakso and fried rice; and even the legalization of homosexual marriage. On the contrary to most argument about me being dull and gray, I acknowledge the existence of gays and lesbians, way ahead even when our society has not been ready to accept them yet. Now, if you are devotedly homophobic, please get something else to read, chiefly because the following content might consist of explicit content which requires parental guardian, err.. if only your parent is neither gay nor lesbian.

I recently read an article on the internet and it seriously had me startled. It was basically about an advice stated out by U.K. Government Adviser, whose advice I disagree with, incidentally. I am not sure whether he was drunk or under the influence of drug when he announced, “Lesbians make better parents than a man and a woman.” Well I am certainly not that conservative, but this idea is much too overwhelming and will sadly never be accepted as long as I live. No, that would be preposterous, let me rephrase that, even the spirit bouncing out from my dead body will find that comment silly and worthless. In attempt to find an opposing argument, which I failed, I found something else even more jaw-dropping. The director of research at the National Academy for Parenting Practitioners in Britain, who happens to be a professor, said that evidence indicates that children raised by gay women are more successful as adults and more likely to aspire to professions that were traditionally considered male. As I often point out that geniuses tend to be eccentric, I honestly had no idea about what this bloke was on about. I studied Biology during high school and correct me if I am wrong, but babies don’t come from a man getting on it with another man, and I guess it is the same story as woman to woman. Bear with me, the exact parameter of success in raising children is blury, since children upbringing is very personal and most of all I haven’t been a father yet. I would want to be involved in parenting one day and I do want to be a good father for my children. Speaking from the perspective of a parent-to-be and if I ever take the advice of that drunken bloke from Government Adviser, you will see one day on my Facebook page that I am engaged in a relationship with some chap named Ricardo, which will be the most horrifying nightmare to have. I could accept the controversial idea that Britney Spears and Madonna kissed during MTV Music Awards and even if they get it on under the sheets, but my mom with Susan from the fish market? Now, speaking on the perspective as a son, the idea of Susan would have been a better father than my actual dad is completely laughable. Nearly as laughable is, how such a parenting organization could be interested into this sort of thing.

"The upshot is, it is bloody expensive to rent a space shuttle, so think again before you decide to become a homosexual in this country."

I should point out that this is a tricky choice of topic to be written though. I remembered that early in September this year, some Muslim fundamentalists or widely known as members of the Islam Defenders Front (FPI) staged rallies at foreign culture center in Jakarta, demanding the termination of Gay and Lesbian Film Festival, because they claimed that it is against the principles of Islam. More worryingly to say, FPI also made a bold claim that their actions represented all Muslims in country. I do not have the statistic, but I believe that Jakarta is neither a city full of homophobes nor homosexual free. In fact if you are gay undercover, I am afraid the choice of becoming a legal homosexual in this country is the kind of luxury which you cannot afford. Firstly, you have to have enough money to buy a new house overseas, because when you blithely update your status on Facebook with something like “I am proudly gay”, some fanatic activists from any religion based organization will show up on your door step, punch you in the face, arrest your mom and dad for parenting failure accusation, then they will burn down your house. And of course, you cannot get married with your spouse here. The options are either, you fly to Canada or Netherland to legalize your marriage and settle there, considering that your house had turned into dust here; or you ship those fanatic activists with the whole organization using commercial space shuttle to Mars. The upshot is, it is bloody expensive to rent a space shuttle, so think again before you decide to become a homosexual in this country.

Truth be told, it might be a radical thought and way too early to discuss about whether lesbians will make better parent, when in fact, their existence is challenged in this country. With so many oppositions and counter-actions against gay and lesbians, no wonder that gay community might just not manage to survive in maintaining their characters, personalities and sexual preferences here. Having given it a lot of thought, I literally could not foresee any trouble of having homosexual colleagues, friends or even neighbor. Also, I see no reason why gay and lesbians are not allowed to adopt a child; it doesn’t necessarily means that the children they have raised will be gay too. On top of that, I am still unsure that lesbians make better parent than normal couple as children upbringing is a very personal matter, and no one wants to be a lousy role model for their children. Even so, this unconventional parenting concept does need take a while to adapt, especially when I admit it to my children “I am sorry that I can’t be a better father, because I am not gay.” Until next posting, enjoy!