Post Script 9 October 2008: I would like to thank you to everybody who reads this post and has set some time to send me private responses and messages. I understand why you choose to not posting your comments here and contact me directly. I appreciate the time and energy you have spent to share your own experience, and I apologise for taking a wee bit too long to respond to each comment, as they are A LOT. Thank you.

I have been wondering for a long time. About religion(s), that is. About what I thought I believe(d), about what I know, about what I want to believe. I have so many questions and yet so few answers. I know people will most likely tell me just to ’swallow’ it, and ‘it’ is what it is, that my brain capacity is not powerful enough, not big enough to absorb the hints and information provided by God Almighty around the world. But I can’t just ignore thousands of questions in my head. And I can’t certainly practice something that I am not convinced is beneficial for me.

My unrest journey began several years a go. I met a guy through work who had been doing hell a lot of a soul searching, and now is into sufi (maybe, I don’t know what it is called and I don’t think he classifies himself into anything). Through short discussions I found comfort, that all things happened in the world has sort of explanation behind them, or underneath them. That God must have a master plan which is so big we are tiny dots we can’t fathom the perimeter lines, let alone the essence. The short discussions have opened my eyes that there are a lot of others who have the same questions and are looking for answers, and believe that everything, every phenomenon, in the world can be explained. And we should read Qur’an with open mind, that it has lots of metaphor we can’t just digest it raw.

But work took up my time and my life and promises left as promises, I never went to his group discussions. Yet our short meetings, which only happened in between coffee breaks and meetings, linger until now (I wrote about our meeting once, in this post).

I have been Muslim my entire life. As usual, I don’t choose to be one, the religion was stamped on me when I was born, and have become part of my identity as I grow up. I remember I patted a neighbour’s dog when I was 7, when my Qur’an reading teacher was about to leave our house and he went ballistic, telling me that touching a dog is haraam. I was so afraid I thought the earth will split and swallow me alive. I remember I asked why, since dog is such a cute creature and considered a man’s best friend, and his answer was disappointing: because Qur’an says so. I remember being in one Qur’an study during high school, an event organised and funded by my (Catholic) school, and the preacher slagging other religions, particularly emphasised on several friends whose parents had two different religions and told them that they were illegitimate children under the God’s eyes. I remember how disappointed I was when we were told it was wrong to say merry Christmas to our Christian friends. I didn’t feel the whole things made sense. And I started to feel compartmentalised.

I think Muslim community is paranoid, we feel that everybody is after us, everybody is about to destroy us. I think Muslim community is insecure, always feel like being treated unfairly, and demand a payback, or constantly, violently, must defend ourselves to the smallest degree, whether the the threat is real or not. I think Muslim community is aggressive, that we can’t live in peace next to others who have different believes, that we must destroy everybody who is slightly different from us. We don’t have a sense of humour we have to hang people immediately if they attempt to make some jokes out of Islam. How insecure is our God then, if we can’t even smile in front of at Him/Her/It?

With so many questions unanswered, over the years I start to ask what it means to me, to have Islam as my religion. Whether I cling on to it because it’s been part of me for over 30 years, or because I love it. Whether keep practicing it because I want the society looks at me in certain way, or because I believe in it. More importantly, what I would do next. Whether I should stick to it, or let it go.

Crossroads.

I am waiting the light turns green.

It is not like me. I am usually able to publish two-three articles in a week. In good days, even almost everyday. My blog, which has started since March 2005, and is over 3 years old, is a standing proof about how consistent I have been.

But not now. I have been occupied with lots of things lately which practically drain my ideas of writing. I have been working hard for the upcoming launch of Indonesian Expatriates Dot Com. I have also been busy with other personal matters, that just to find 2 hours to sit down and think then write is almost impossible. That, and not enough time. See, unlike some people (like Rob, for example who could post 3-5 articles in 1 day and doesn’t need some beauty sleep!), it takes me up to two hours just to write down one post. Most of the times it is because I need some more research to back me up, and before I knew it, I got distracted, looking at other people’s blogs (which makes me stay for more than 10 minutes to read related post and other interesting posts in each blog).

I have one article ready to publish but I have to wait another blogger since we promise to publish it at the same time. You know, kind of like duet. I have other 4 articles, almost ready, some of them have been in my draft box since months a go, but I don’t feel like publishing them.

I have been tossing around some ideas, but haven’t go the ‘itch’ to write them down. And I just read my last post, which is exactly 7 (!) days a go. Oh no!

I wonder what other bloggers do when they suffer from a dry spell?

What do you do?

Every year in Indonesia, we see something unique during the Islamic holy month, Ramadan, for about 30 days. It is the month of fasting, in which participating Muslims do not eat or drink anything from dawn until sunset, and must avoid obscene and irreligious sights, sounds, and evil thoughts.

In order to complete this task, since Indonesia is the world’s most populous Muslim majority nation - although it is not an Islamic state - it is easy to ban anything that is considered disturbing the act of fasting, rather than having the people facing and testing themselves against those obstacles. Therefore places like bars, clubs and massage places, must be closed from one day before until one day after Ramadan (Kompas.com, 25 August 2008). That’s more than 30 days. Imagine how much money they lose and how they pay their employees?

They won’t be able to close for a whole month. How would workers make a living? Ninety percent of workers in such establishments are Muslim. They, too, need money so they can celebrate Idul Fitri and perform their religious duties during Ramadhan. This is a very sensitive issue because it involves the interests of different parties,” said Soeryo.

Those who run restaurant business, change their business hour accordingly, open before sunset until pre-dawn and close during the day. Some are open with their curtains closed or half-open. Some only take orders for takeaways. Alcohol is served in tea cups. Those who still insist to open during the day usually get a hard time from Islamic community as well as the government.

This is something I personally can’t understand, and maybe it is because I grew up in a small town (well, 1.2-million-people city is considered small in Indonesia), where Islam is the dominant faith in the region, but I went to a Catholic school, where I learned about tolerance and sympathy. When Ramadan came and I was fasting, my schoolmates respected it and tried not to eat or drink in front of me. But who wanted to be left alone during a break? So rather than sitting alone in the classroom looking vaguely at the black board, I usually went along to the canteen, and when they were drinking, eating, and smoking, I just spent time to chat with them. At first they felt awkward doing so in front of me, but I felt the world should not stop revolving just because I did something different that day. From a simple motive of not wanting to be left out by friends, I grew up understanding that fasting is not about telling people to not to do things in front of us, but how we handle all temptations before us.

But outside the school, it was different. People were afraid to eat and drink in the street in case others will yell at them and accuse them for being intolerance. I remember I was wondering why did we ask them to tolerate us? Why not the other way around? I felt that we forced others to understand our situation, and we didn’t give others a chance to have a different way of living. In short: if I can’t eat, nor can you. If I can’t have fun, you shouldn’t either.

There are people who are not fasting and they have every right to eat or drink or do whatever they like, and as we can ask them to show some tolerance for those who are fasting, we certainly could understand that they still need to eat and drink whenever they want, that they don’t have to suppress whatever urge they feel. Why should we stop them having a happy ending or drinking alcohol if they are not even practicing Islam? It is unfair to expect them to suffer just because we are.

The act of fasting is to let Muslims to practice self-discipline, sacrifice, and sympathy to those who are less fortunate. We should refrain ourselves from all the world’s temptations - not removing them from our sight. If we just practice it as it is, and let all the disturbance and obstacles right in front of us; if we can preserve the purity of our thoughts and actions, regardless what’s in front of us; it must feel great when we sip our tea when maghrib comes.

Sometimes I am so gullible and oblivious. I thought every blogger is just like me, who writes about IT, or making money online, or writes about their daft, boring daily activities, or about cooking, or kids, or fashion. Or politics. I didn’t realise there are bloggers who write about sex.

That until last night I watched a program called Sex in The Noughties: The Sex Blog Girls. The program was aired in 2007 but was re-aired again. I watched it when it was about to finish, but I picked up one blogger who blogs about - what else - sex, anonymously. The blog, Girl With A One-Track Mind, is written by a girl under a pseudonym, Abby Lee, who worked in the film industry, lived in London and got laid a hell of a lot. It  started at the beginning of 2004, where there were only 20 million bloggers around the world (compares to now, which is 112 millions). After 6 months, people were googling for it at a rate that was measurable by the minute. The blog get 250,000 readers a month, won Best British or Irish Blog at the 2006 Bloggies, was published as a book with the same title, Girl With A One-Track Mind.

Several weeks a go I found out that the show Secret Diary of A Call Girl series, a British TV drama starring Billie Piper, aired by ITV2, is actually based on the blog called Belle De Jour: Diary of London Call Girl. I hardly watch British TV shows, so even though the show has been aired for quite sometime now, I wasn’t paying attention too much. The blog itself started in 2003, and is meant to be a diary of a high-class prostitute living and working in London. Soon it was being mentioned by others on the web and it came to the attention of the print media. In December 2003 a newspaper [The Guardian] awarded Belle the first prize in its annual competition for the best-written blog.

Abby Lee enjoyed her anonymity before The Sunday Times revealed her true identity 2 years a go, just 3 days after the publication of her book. Now everbody knows her real name, and as she said:

It might have been more than two years since I lost my anonymity but I still get a little thrown when someone I’ve never met before greets me by saying, “Oh I know who you are, I’ve been reading your blog from the early days,” and then mentions a memorable post from way back that they particularly enjoyed reading. Knowing the exact post they reference, I then blush and mumble and revert to a default position of shyness whilst attempting to change the subject onto something that doesn’t involve me, someone else’s fingers, or my very wet knickers.

On the interview Abby said that she thought she could have her blog published and maintain her anonymity at the same time.

I guess I was lulled into a false sense of security regarding my anonymity because I knew that Belle de Jour was hounded by the press, and still managed to keep her identity private. Whilst I may have a high-traffic blog, and a book detailing my sexual adventures in the shops, I’m not a prostitute like her, so why, I figured, would anyone really be interested in whom I am?

But life is not that bad for Abby Lee. After her book deal (rumoured to be six-figures), she is now busy attending conferences and being interviewed by media.

Belle, on the other hand, has sparked speculation in the media as to her real identity. Whether Belle really was a call girl, and whether her diary entries are based on fact or are entirely fictitious. Times Online has published at least 5 articles about Belle and her somewhat ‘true’ identity. Belle, however maintains that she is who she is. Now she is a regular columnist in The Sunday Telegraph, maintaining her anonymity (I wonder how it works, though, even though she could keep a distance with the newspaper by communicating everything online, she still has to get her cheque under her real name, right?). With that TV show under her belt now, she must be the queen of sex blogger.

Another blogger mentioned by the Sex in The Noughties: The Sex Blog Girls show was Bitchy Jones, who maintains a blog called Bitchy Jones’s Diary. She is, as she said in her blog, is a sexually dominant, and want to be a boss in bed. She, however, doesn’t do dominatrix for money. She talked about the interview and her choice to be anonymous in one of her posts:

I’m anonymous because it’s easier for me to be real that way. It easier to tell the truth in the dark. But I’d hate to think I was fooling anyone or making them think I was ashamed of what I am. And some days I think it’s political. That anonymous female sex blogging challenges ideas about women and sex and media on a quite basic level. That a woman – normally – is not allowed to have opinions about sex without revealing her body. Without making her body commercially available. (Like Abby Lee - quite clearly - was forced by the media to be a body.) It’s challenging all on it’s own to be a bodiless sexual mind rather than a mindless sexual body.

Just like what I posted here and here, I said that I don’t really care whether the blogger is anonymous or not. Being a responsible one is more important. I don’t respect vicious attacks without justification that seem aimed at shredding a person’s reputation. It doesn’t matter whether we write about IT, or making money online, or write about daft, boring daily activities, or about cooking, or kids, or fashion. Or politics. Or sex…

PS: do you notice that the image in ITV2’s Secret Diary of A Call Girl website is similar to my blog header?

Warning: the post contains large amount of vanity which could lead to migraine, nausea, or even diarrhea. You have been warned.

===================================================================

Too much love will kill you, according to Queen. In my case, it didn’t kill me, but it’s enough to hurt me. Literally, mentally, and physically.

Yesterday I had an appointment with other ladies. I was in between-hair wash day, and sporting a new, much shorter hairdo, which sadly will look like a lump if it is not styled, I had no other choice but to pull it into a ponytail, but I thought it would be brilliant to tease the roots to have some volume at the crown, similar like picture on the left.

I was proud of the result of my own creation, but I didn’t have much time to admire my own reflection in the mirror because I was running late. Since the weather has become unpredictable again, I couldn’t wear my sandals so I grabbed the closest pair of shoes, which look similar to the picture on the right - except mine are plain black - and headed into the town. Pay attention to the shoes because they were going to play a big part soon in this story.

On my way there, I kept checking on myself in the row of parked car windows. Yes, here comes the vanity part. I was shamelessly admiring my work of art on my own head.

The shoes, I must say, felt quite high. But I was super confident because 1) I am very used to high heels, I could walk on 14 cm high stilettos better than on ballerina flat shoes, 2) I have worn the shoes in London, where I had to walk a lot, chasing buses and tubes, which for me a testament that the shoes are good for walking, and 3) they are wedges, which, theoretically, give more support than spikey heels.

Feeling like I was in my element, I crossed the road hurriedly and turned to Union Street, which bans off-street parking. Since I couldn’t check myself on the car windows, I glanced on each shop, pretending I was looking into their displays, but actually I was looking at my reflection in the window. I just passed Starbucks, and suddenly, in split second, I tripped over!

I successfully was on my hands and knees, and OH! they hurt like hell because they just met the cold pavement. Just like any other part of the town, the sidewalk in Union Street area is not completely flat, and I didn’t realise the particular block I stepped on was not the same height as the other ones. And because I didn’t pay attention to what’s in front of me and was too busy looking at my reflection in the mirror, I twisted my ankle, lost my balance altogether, and found myself plunging forward and kissed the ground.

There were lots of people around me when it happened. All of them were staring at me, wondering if I was drunk and how the hell I could fell down on a rather flat pavement! I couldn’t savour the pain because the embarrassment took over quickly and I had to get away from the spot, pronto! So red-faced, I got up quickly with rather wobbly knees and walked away.

I, of course, blame it on the shoes.

This isn’t the first I fell down in public. In Fall From Grace I fell down a fire staircase and my bottom landed on a concrete steps on the process. Not only that I did it in front of my team - whom I was supposed to lead and had to be a role model for - but the reason why I miscalculated my steps was because the cute French guy who was climbing the staircase gave me a smile when we brushed shoulders in a narrow flight seconds before that!! I was grateful though, that I didn’t flash my G-string and kept my skirt intact and I didn’t break my poor black stilettos.

Moral of the story: if you were that vain like me, make sure you wear proper shoes!

Related article: Fall From Grace (1)

<!– ckey=”0BD66A42″ –>

Post Script 23 September 2008: I have activated slide wrapper function and now instead of 4 free spaces to advertise your blog, I have 6! And it’s not just that, each thumbnail will be enlarged automatically every 2 seconds or when you roll your mouse over to them.

Whenever you click on each post in my blog, you would see the four recommended boxes on top of the post. [update: image is updated according to post script].

Those four six boxes are in the perfect spot to advertise your blog. With 200 to 500 visitors a day coming from all over the world to this site, it’s a nice, comfy spots for your blog link and thumbnail, which will be displayed for a week.

And all for free!

All you have to do is to email me at
to tell me that you are interested to have your blog advertised here, as well as to attach the thumbnail of your blog (if you don’t attach the thumbnail I will just put your blog title in the ad box). You need to link me in your blogroll before having your blog advertised here.

The conditions are simple:

• Your blog must be at least 3 months old or have 10 posts
• Your blog must be active for the last 30 days
• Your blog must be G PG rating (no pornographic contents)
• I have to find your blog interesting and intriguing!
• Once your blog is advertised up there, kindly please post a new entry telling your readers to check how your blog is promoted here.
• If you want, you could send me your thumbnail (125×125 pixel) and the header (572×150 pixel) images, but if not, I could just snap it from your blog. Whatever works for ya!

That’s it. Very simple, right? For this week I put Therry’s, Santi’s and Ecky’s blogs. Next week could be your week!

Pay no attention.

Technorati Profile

See the picture on the left? That’s how I looked like in 1964. I stumbled upon this website and immediately uploaded my picture to see how I look like in the past.

The website provides classic hairdos, vintage outfits, even old songs from the 50’s to 2000. It also brilliantly allows us to adjust our picture once it was superimposed with the model we choose. Although it can’t be 100% perfect, it still create amazing image of ourselves decades a go.

Below are how I look like between 1950s and 2000 and it cracks me up!! So hilarious! I actually had the last picture’s hairstyle during high school and thought I was so cool….

Post Script Friday 5 Sept 08: According to my statistic, yesterday alone I have got almost 500 visitors after I posted this article. Maybe because Olav was so popular? Or maybe they thought there was something kinky about penguin? I don’t know. Nevertheless, I’m beyond thrilled! It was once in a life time experience, having 500 people reading my ramblings. Thanks, guys!
clipped from en.wikipedia.org

Sir Nils Olav is a King Penguin living in Edinburgh Zoo, Scotland. He is the mascot and Colonel-in-Chief of the Norwegian King’s Guard. Nils was visited by the Norwegian King’s Guard on the 15 August 2008 and awarded a knighthood. The honour was approved by the king of Norway, King Harald V. During the ceremony a crowd of several hundred people joined the 130 guardsmen at the zoo to hear a citation from King Harald the Fifth of Norway read out, which described Nils as a penguin “in every way qualified to receive the honour and dignity of knighthood”.^[1]

Nils Olav has been an honorary member and mascot of the Norwegian King’s Guard since 1972, when a member of the Norwegian King’s Guard adopted the lucky penguin after visiting Edinburgh Zoo. The proud penguin was on his best behaviour throughout most of the ceremony, but shortly before the ritual was concluded and possibly suffering a bout of nerves he was seen to deposit a discreet white puddle on the ground. Next time I visit Edinburgh Zoo, I’d make sure to visit Olav. I wonder if Olav will be invited to royal family event? You know, like wedding and stuff. What does he have to wear? A penguin suit? But he’s already a penguin!

You might have heard the phenomenally successful travel book, 100 Things To Do Before You Die. The book was an instant bestseller and inspired a publishing industry all of its own with others of “100 Things” spin-offs and and even the movie The Bucket List.

I have been meaning to read it, but there was always something else that distracts my attention in the bookshop (namely chick lit or InStyle magazine), and it has been in my ‘books to read’ list for a long time Read the rest of this entry »