THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST
The Importance of Being Earnest. Sounds familiar? It sure is. But it had nothing to do with neither Oscar Wilde nor Colin Firth when I had the phrase banging on the back of my head yesterday. It was Life teaching me a lesson: “Elok, you wicked girl, don’t deceive people!”I learned another thing as well. That when you are tired of someone, actually it is YOU whom you’re tired of.Let me put some light to this seemingly obscure argument. I met a friend yesterday. Someone I knew months before in a brief encounter, but who seemed to grow quite fond of me and had been seeking opportunities to see me again. His eagerness was alarming. Yet romance was utterly out of question. So far as I was concerned, he just wanted to talk. And he was a good talker, too, with a witty touch here and there.All the same, I was tired of him. Or, to put my hypothesis in use, I was tired of myself when I was with him. His presence, in a way, compelled me to be someone I wasn’t. Because he expected me to be sharp.I don’t blame him, really. It served me just right. When we parted before, I left him under the impression that I was this smart, bright girl with attitude. Which of course I’m not –and wasn’t either. But I’m telling you, I’m pretty good at deceiving people in this sort of things. Unluckily for me, the art of deceiving requires that you live up to your bogus image ‘till the end. Hence this tribulation of “Bunburying”.I’ll do you good by warning you that such an exercise is extremely dangerous in the way that it’s stressful and tiresome. The efforts of pretending to be smart! It put my brain to a non-stop work for hours. I must be constantly on guard while actually displaying pretty laid-back air. Few that I could call as a more industrious labour.What obliges people to stick themselves to such calamity is, I reckon, more than the fear of unmasking. In most cases, unmasking is indeed impossible. Everyone has a stock of personae, as psychologists would gladly expound. When you deal with someone, you pick one or two personae on display; the ones that you feel most appropriate to manage his acquaintance with. It’s a self-defense mechanism you perform subconsciously.More personae –probably all- will surface once you develop a more intimate relationship; when you think you are emotionally safe with him. I have this belief that the person you love most is always yourself. But then you come to love those who make you feel comfortable being yourself; those who make you love yourself more. Those to whom you reveal all your personae genuinely and like you anyway.Of course you would die for them, because if you don’t you’ll hate yourself and that makes Life unbearable. When you hate yourself, it’s the end. And when you’re tired of yourself, you’re heading towards the end.I wonder why I –and perhaps many of you, occasionally- drag myself towards the end yesterday. Why did I have to pretend that I was sharp when I was just a half-silly, half-sassy girl? Jack Worthing “Bunburyed” to escape the boredom of his country life. Algernon to run away from social obligations he detested.
Me?
The urge of being agreeable. It’s the whole truth pure and simple.But no worries, people! Lessons learned. I decide that rather than being liked, it is more important for me to LIKE myself. Or, to the way Jack put it, “I’ve now realized for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest.”FYI:
“The Importance of Being Earnest” is a play by Oscar Wilde (1854-1900). It tells the stories of Jack and Algernon, both inventing fictitious people for their own advantages. The term “Bunburying” refers to the activity of making use of the bogus, whose name is Bunbury in Algernon’s case.
The classic play came to the big screen in 2002 with Colin Firth playing the cast of Jack Worthing.
CHICKENOCIDE
Jakarta bans backyard farming!Just like Hitler’s SS on the Jewish, Jakarta govt officials will go door-to-door in a mission to seize and destroy chickens –probably before the very eyes of the owners’. I assume there will be “trials” to decide whether the chickens in question are deemed potentially responsible for future bird-flu disaster or not, but this bylaw is a chickenocide all the same. And what with the Avian Rights –that chickens, like other animal and people alike, have the equal right to live in the city? (haw haw)I see Mr. Sutiyoso has made it a second habit to take things to the extreme. How many troops will be needed to enforce the ban? How much money to get them moving? Not to mention the not-in-the-least-cushy jobs of chicken slaughtering: what to compensate the owners? Those chickens might be their lives. And how to execute the whole bloody affair, anyway? I have this vivid imagination of Ciliwung River transformed to the cesspit of dead poultry; flowing red and emanating rot odour all the way, while the city streets are covered in white feathers. Cute.With so many slaughtered, the price of chicken will surely soar. And -knowing Indonesia- with it perhaps every other price. But don’t let’s worry about it. Something even worse is threatening. If you believe chickens have souls, just be prepared to take back the fruits of your injustice. Yes, I’m talking about The Curse of the Chickens. Mankind, thou wilst suffer!Bird-Flu is a serious issue. Every sensible step to prevent its outbreak and spread should be done without delay. I’m all for the fight against bird-flu –and bird-flu related folly.
MY BEST FRIEND'S WEDDING
No, it's not happening (yet). Wedding's on the way for sure, but at this very moment my best friend still manages being unmarried -thank goodness! But the end of this month will see her long-time boyfriend propose to her; family ties, ceremony and all. They've been together for ages that I knew -for ages, too- this would eventually take place. But having her telling me that she's literally stepping into the realm of matrimony opens my eyes of what it really means, both to her and to our "partnership".Yes, partnership. That's how we label our friendship: Partners in Crimes. With her I spent my frivolous youth doing fun, crazy things good girls didn't even think of.So my best friend, my loyal partner-in-crimes, is getting married. She sounds quite thrilled and sufficiently happy. After all the groom is an eligible guy (kind-hearted, funny, well-bred, financially secured, all the good things you can possibly name) who adores her madly. They share the same interests. What else to ask? She must be happy.Now the crucial question: Must I be happy? I guess I must. That's the least someone can do when a friend gets married. The "I'm happy for you" stuff. That's the moral standard; good girls' answer.But I'm not a good girl and she's not my friend. She's my partner-in-crimes. If truth be told; No- I'm not exactly in rapturous anticipation for the event. I'm going to lose my partner-in-crimes; why should I be happy? We cannot re-live the days when we were so careless and free; why should I be happy? From now on I will stand second to her in all matters -including girl things, because girl things are creeping out of her world. The supremacy of Domestic Life will claim her.
"Let's hit the mall; big sale at The Executive!""I can't. My child is ill.""Quite a while since we bowled, eh? Feel like going?""Umm- love to, but I've got the laundry to deal with.."The future doesn't sound very appealing both for the married lady and her humble friend.Si, amigos, *I* sound like a venomous witch speaking out of spite. I can't help it. I asked my self if I was jealous- coz she's with a fiancé and I Mr. Not Exist. But no, I'm too content in my independency of men to bother being jealous with someone else's love affairs. Wedding -my own, that is- could be the last thing on my mind at present. And to the best of my belief, love her as I do, I'm STILL more interested in men than in women. Really, this pang I'm feeling was born merely out of the knowledge that what HAS BEEN no longer WILL BE.It will never be the same. Say whatever you like, but the truth remains unchanged: things will never be the same once one ties the knot.I can't say I'm looking forward to her wedding. But I'm not holding her back -can't even if I try. I'll cope with whatever becomes of the two of us, and wish her joy whole-heartedly. I guess it sums up to what she texted me one evening, "Well, life goes on". Damn right, girl. I mean- damn right, Ma'am.
HOW TO SPEND 2 HOURS IN A BAD FASHION
(scroll down to read in Indonesian)
This is how: make an appointment with a gang of five blokes you barely know, and see where it leads you to. I did it last week, and I’d call it “hospitality gone mad”.They were my seniors at uni; way above my year. I happened to be in emailing terms (every once in a while; the “how are you doing” stuff) with some of them, and when they announced their visit to my town, I was prompted to say, “Do come and let’s meet”. It was hospitality; a value Indonesians most treasured and were known of.Well, people make stupid decisions from time to time. Last week was my time, and as I sat waiting for them for half an hour, I could easily depict what was coming.They were of course nice, kind-hearted, good sort of fellas. It was not for them to blame that they lived in worlds I knew little of. They had their own language and topics. I ended up being the social outcast –not by design, I’m sure. Mind you, in most cases I LOVED learning about people and their lives, but they were too busy with themselves to let me start my civil attempts. And so there I was, curled myself in a ball right there in the corner, while the big blokes were laughing at their own jokes. Words reduced me to some occasional “Really?”, when I had the chance of speaking at all. Most of the time I was just smiling sheepishly and wondering what morass it was that I let myself be bogged down into. If hospitality had permitted, I would have got up and leave. But I was an Indonesian after all, and Indonesians were not supposed to do that.The worst blow was when he (one of them) started preaching at me. I swear to God I stared at him in a startled, obvious dismay. He would have understood what he trespassed - had he been more sensitive-, yet he went on with his “moral lecture”. I thought of some possibilities: 1) snapping him off, 2) laughing at his verbose attempts, 3) walking out right away. But I checked myself. Again, politeness ruled.And I knew he intended well.To tell the truth, in the beginning, all of us intended well. They didn’t wish to be perceived as neglecting me while in town. I shared the opinion and wanted them to feel welcomed. But the fruit of all these kind intentions was 2 hours wasted in a bad fashion. Because in fact, I didn’t need to see them and they didn’t need to see me. My time was precious, and so were theirs (probably more!). In scenes like this, we should have let “hospitality” halt at the point where nobody got hurt. Moral of the story:The next time someone you hardly know, someone you don’t care enough about, someone you do not need/want to see, says he’s in town, the best policy is to text him, “Really? That’s good. Enjoy your visit.” and nothing more. It saves trouble.I don’t think the gang cares enough about me to read my blog, but if by chance they do, I know I’m in trouble.
Well you see, blokes, I appreciated that you spared your precious time for me, but let’s be honest to admit that the rendezvous wasn’t fun.
Sitkom Dua Jam
(How to Spend Two Hours in a Bad Fashion -Indonesian version)
Masing-masing pihak tidak bermaksud melucu, tapi mereka terjebak dalam satu situasi yang lucu, itulah sitkom.Minggu lalu aku jadi bintangnya. Sitkom versi dunia nyata.Syahdan aku punya beberapa teman –mantan senior di universitas- yang kadang kirim-kiriman imel. Lokasi mereka tersebar di seantero Indonesia dan bola dunia. Suatu ketika mereka mengabari rencana mereka untuk bereuni di Jogja. Pada posisi ini, aku hanya bisa berkata, ”Oh bagus! Ayo kita ketemuan!”.Dan memang bagus kalau bisa ketemuan kan? Aku selalu senang pergi makan malam dengan teman, saling bercerita tentang banyak hal, dan berbagi pandangan tentang hidup dan dunia.Dalam kasus ini, kondisi ideal diganggu beberapa fakta:1. Aku sebenarnya tidak terlalu kenal mereka2. Mereka bawa teman yang belum pernah aku lihat seumur hidup3. Dunia kami jauh berbedaHasil dari ”percobaan” atas nama keramah-tamahan ini,Mereka: sibuk bicara dengan topik mereka sendiri, dengan bahasa mereka sendiri, komunikasi yang dikatagorikan para ahli sebagai ”full of contexts”.(Wajar, karena ini reuni mereka, tentunya mereka ingin bicara tentang dunia mereka, tanpa bermaksud membuat-)Aku: tersudut di pojok, berusaha menyimak, berusaha mengerti, kehilangan kata-kata dan memutuskan membiarkan mereka dengan topik mereka.Sambil bertanya-tanya apa sebenarnya yang sedang aku kerjakan di sana, aku menyadari kebodohan situasi ini dan tidak bisa berhenti nyengir gila.Semua pihak bermaksud baik. Mereka tidak ingin dianggap mengabaikan aku sementara mereka mampir ke Jogja. Aku tidak ingin dianggap mengabaikan mereka sementara mereka mampir ke Jogja. Jadi dibuatlah janji bertemu. Yang sedikit kami lupakan adalah: mereka tidak benar-benar perlu dan ingin bertemu denganku, aku idem ditto, dan bahwa keramah-tamahan tidak seharusnya justru menghancurkan keakraban.Aku akan bilang ini dengan terus terang: keberadaanku di sana sedikit-banyak mengganggu acara mereka. Dan waktu dengan sok tuanya ada yang menceramahiku soal hidup, aku hampir-hampir berdiri dan pergi, jika bukan karena mengingat norma kesopanan yang harus dipatuhi.Jadi dua pihak yang sama-sama ”tertekan” terpaksa duduk dan tertawa bersama sampai waktu yang sepantasnya. Lucu kan? Terlalu banyak yang ditahan-tahan dan dikorbankan atas nama kesopanan dan keramah-tamahan.Izinkan aku belajar dari pengalaman ini. Lain kali ada yang mengabarkan kunjungan mereka, tanggapanku akan berhenti pada ”Oh bagus!” saja.
THE CROSSROADS
Bad habit it might start to become, yet the beginning of 2007 sees me post words that are not my own. A new year is always the time for resolutions and turning points; I hope to be permitted to nourish the wish that the following excerpt from Somerset Maugham’s “The Razor’s Edge” would find its way into the heads and the hearts of as many blogwalkers as possible. Nice stuff to contemplate, and what not. ‘When are you coming back to Chicago?’ ‘Chicago? I don’t know. I haven’t thought of it.’ ‘You said that if you hadn’t got what you wanted after two years you’d give it up as a bad job.’ ‘I couldn’t go back now. I’m on the threshold. I see vast lands of the spirit stretching out before me, beckoning, and I’m eager to travel them.’ ‘What do you expect to find in them?’ ‘The answers to my questions.’ He gave her a glance that was almost playful, so that except that she knew him so well, she might have thought he was speaking in jest. ‘I want to make up my mind whether God is or God is not. I want to find out why evil exists. I want to know whether I have an immortal soul or whether when I die it’s the end.’ Isabel gave a little gasp. It made her uncomfortable to hear Larry say such things, and she was thankful that he spoke so lightly, in the tone of ordinary conversation, that it was possible for her to overcome her embarrassment. ‘But Larry,’ she smiled. ‘People have been asking those questions for thousands of years. If they could be answered, surely they’d been answered by now.’ Larry chuckled. ‘Don’t laugh as if I’d said something idiotic,’ she said sharply. ‘On the contrary I think you’ve said something shrewd. But on the other hand you might say that if men have been asking them for thousands of years it proves that they can’t help asking them and have to go on asking them. Besides, it’s not true that no one has found the answers. There are more answers than questions, and lots of people have found answers that were perfectly satisfactory for them. Old Ruysbroek for instance.’ ‘Who was he?’ ‘Oh, just a guy I didn’t know at college,’ Larry answered flippantly. Isabel didn’t know what he meant, but passed on. ‘It all sounds so adolescent to me. Those are the sort of things sophomores get excited about and then when they leave college they forget about them. They have to earn a living.’ ‘I don’t blame them. You see, I’m in a happy disposition that I have enough to live on. If I hadn’t I’d have had to do like everybody else and make money.’ ‘But doesn’t money mean anything to you?’ ‘Not a thing,’ he grinned. ‘How long d’you think all this is going to take you?’ ‘I wouldn’t know. Five years. Ten years.’ ‘And after that? What are you going to do with all this wisdom?’ ‘If I ever acquire wisdom I suppose I shall be wise enough to know what to do with it.’ Isabel clasped her hands passionately and leant forwards in her chair. ‘You’re so wrong, Larry. You’re an American. Your place isn’t here. Your place is in America.’ ‘I shall come back when I’m ready.’ ‘But you’re missing so much. How can you bear to sit here in a backwater just when we’re living through the most wonderful adventure the world has ever known? Europe’s finished. We’re the greatest, the most powerful people in the world. We’re going forward by leaps and bounds. We’ve got everything. It’s your duty to take part in the development of your country. You’ve forgotten, you don’t know how thrilling life is in America today. Are you sure you’re not doing this because you haven’t the courage to stand up to the work that’s before every American now? Oh, I know you’re working in a way, but isn’t it just an escape from your responsibilities? Is it more than just a sort of laborious idleness? What would happen to America if everyone shirk as you’re shirking?’ ‘You’re very severe, honey,’ he smiled. ‘The answer to that is that everyone doesn’t feel like me. Fortunately for themselves, perhaps, most people are prepared to follow the normal course; what you forget is that I want to learn as passionately as – Gray, for instance, wants to make pots of money. Am I really a traitor to my country because I want to spend a few years educating myself? It may be that when I’m through I shall have something to give that people will be glad to take. It’s only a chance, of course, but if I fail I shall be no worse off than a man who’s gone into business and hasn’t made a go of it.’ ‘And what about me? Am I of no importance to you at all?’ ‘You’re of very great importance. I want you to marry me.’ ‘When? In ten years?’ ‘No. Now. As soon as possible.’ ‘On what? Mamma can’t afford to give me anything. Besides, she wouldn’t if she could. She’d think it wrong to help you to live without doing anything.’ ‘I wouldn’t want to take anything from your mother,’ said Larry. ‘I’ve got three thousand a year. That’s plenty in Paris. We could have a little apartment and a bonne a tout faire. We’d have such a lark, darling.’ ‘But, Larry, one can’t live on three thousand a year.’ ‘Of course one can. Lots of people live on much less.’ ‘But I don’t want to live on three thousand a year. There’s no reason why I should.’ ‘I’ve been living on half that.’ ‘But how!’ She looked at the dingy little room with a shudder of distaste. ‘It means I’ve got a bit saved up. We could go down on Capri for our honeymoon and then in the fall we’d go to Greece. I’m crazy to go there. Don’t you remember how we used to talk about traveling all over the world together?’ ‘Of course I want to travel. But not like that. I don’t to travel second-class on steamships and put up at third-rate hotels, without a bathroom, and eat at cheap restaurants.’ ‘I went all through Italy last October like that. I had a wonderful time. We could travel all over the world on three thousand a year.’ ‘But I want to have babies, Larry.’ ‘That’s all right. We’ll take them along with us.’ ‘You’re so silly,’ she laughed. ‘D’you know what it costs to have a baby? Violet Tomlinson had one last year and she did it as cheaply as she could and it cost her twelve hundred and fifty. And what d’you think a nurse costs?’ She grew more vehement as one idea after another occurred to her. ‘You’re so impractical. You don’t know what you’re asking me to do. I’m young, I want to have fun. I want to do all the things that people do. I want to go to parties, I want to go to dances. I want to play golf and ride horseback. I want to wear nice clothes. Can’t you imagine what it means to a girl not to be as well dressed as the rest of her crowd? D’you know what it means, Larry, to buy your friends’ old dresses when they’re sick of them and be thankful when someone out of pity makes you a present of a new one? I couldn’t even afford to do to a decent hairdresser to have my hair properly done. I don’t want to go about in street-cars and omnibuses; I want to have my own car. And what d’you suppose I’d find to do with myself all day long while you were reading at the Library? Walk about the streets window-shopping or sit in the Luxembourg Garden seeing that my children didn’t get into mischief? We couldn’t have any friends.’ ‘Oh, Isabel,’ he interrupted. ‘Not the sort of friends I’m used to. Oh yes, Uncle Elliott’s friends would asks us now and then for his sake, but we couldn’t go because I wouldn’t have the clothes to go in, and we wouldn’t go because we couldn’t afford to return their hospitality. I don’t want to know a lot of scrubby, unwashed people; I’ve got nothing to say to them and they’ve got nothing to say to me. I want to live, Larry.’ She grew suddenly conscious of the look in his eyes, tender as it always was when fixed on her, but gently amused. ‘You think I’m silly, don’t you? You think I’m being trivial and horrid.’ ‘No, I don’t. I think what you say is very natural.’ He was standing with his back to the fireplace, and she got up and went up to him so that they were face to face. ‘Larry, if you hadn’t a cent to your name and got a job that brought you in three thousand a year I’d marry you without a minute’s hesitation. I’d cook for you, I’d make the beds, I wouldn’t care what I wore, I’d go without anything, I’d look upon it as wonderful fun, because I’d know that it was only a question of time and you’d make good. But this means living in a sordid beastly way all our lives with nothing to look forward to. It means that I should be a drudge to the day of my death. And for what? So that you can spend years trying to find answers to questions that you say yourself are insoluble. It’s so wrong.’To put it briefly, the couple then broke up their engagement.Now don’t get me wrong. Lovey-dovey stuffs (interesting as they are) should not be spotted as the highlight here. Frankly I don’t know why I was so much drawn to this piece of two lovers’ conversation. It just got me thinking. Of passions and decisions, of dreams and the pursue, of sacrifice and selfishness. Of social construction and upbringing. Of idealisms; of practicality. Of honesty, of being normal, of responsibilities. Of money. Of going off the beaten track. Of choices. Of crossroads. Of compromise. Or the lack of it.Perhaps I’ll pour ‘em down into words in my next post. Perhaps not.At any rate, happy new year.While writing this somehow I remember Tiessa and Pristi. The ‘marrying for money’ thing we talked about, Tiesz, and all your globetrotting plans, Sup. I wonder if you princesses will be Isabels.
About W.Somerset Maugham: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W_Somerset_Maugham
The Importance of Being Earnest. Sounds familiar? It sure is. But it had nothing to do with neither Oscar Wilde nor Colin Firth when I had the phrase banging on the back of my head yesterday. It was Life teaching me a lesson: “Elok, you wicked girl, don’t deceive people!”
