BOTTOM-UP APPROACH... LITERALLY
My pals jeered me for that shameless blabber i posted before- so i suppose i have to show them i learned my lesson. They wanted me to stop being so pompous. Fine- I'm all ears. I am exercising the bottom-up up approach: you listen to people's aspirations first before taking any action.And my immediate action is- to recognize what other people seem to do so well naturally, whilst i am cornered with my incapabilities. Bottom-up approach once more... literally.Here's the story. The ladies at my usual haunt have been committing such obvious a folly concerning this new bloke who happened to show his "cute" BOTTOM up last week. Bottom in capital letters: it brought great impacts, that's why. They talk about it incessantly. Or to be exact, they *giggle* about it incessantly.So everyone is enjoying their selves hugely in this yummy -if not scientific- discussion on his sexual appeal- and i'm unjustly excluded. Because i'm clueless. They made me look at that allegedly gorgeous bottom- and i saw nothing. I mean of course I saw his bottom -covered in jeans- yet i lacked (still do) the capability to exercise any judgment regarding its beauty. I am sexually stupid.But then perhaps it's something i could even flaunt. Moral values. You shall not judge a book by its cover, nor a man by his bottom. Bottoms are just skin deep.I remember the riot over recent Miss Universe pageant in Mexico. People yelled that beautiful or ugly, women should not be an object. If you really believe in the equality of gender, you will tell those drooling ladies that beautiful or ugly, his bottom should not be an object. Then the never-ending hilarious break-time discussions -in which i have no say- will be coerced to stop.But of course nobody really believes in the equality of gender. Nor anybody cares enough to dispose of their rich heritage of checking the opposite sex out just for the sake of this vague concept.So the male members of our society will continue assessing me by the size of my cups and the female members of our society will continue celebrating some bloke's famous bottom surreptitiously. (Surprisingly sounds almost like the equality of gender itself, don't you think?)The giggle and the whispers shall thrive. And these dignified ladies -me included, attempting to excel at this art- shall keep on stealing glances at his anatomy: bottom, chest, arms, shoulder, nose, eyes.Thighs? Of course not. It's a bottom-up approach :-)End note:
I sincerely hope this post will not be perceived as some "sexual harassment" towards one particular Mr. X. Sexual harassment? Pious girl like I am? Huh.
HUMBLE ME
Confession. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Most dreadful sin of all, too: Lack of Humility.This is what *I* think about me:I am witty.At times I *can* be pretty.I am well-educated. Analytical. Creative.I have smart conversations.The rest of the folks are usually less bright than I am. Although not necessarily less worthy.I can master *anything* if I care to learn it.I am not lovable, yet some people just love me MADLY.I am a Lady of the World. Or will be.Throw up, ladies and gentlemen- follow my example. But you should have been prepared to face such boastful remarks; I've warned you I am not humble. Never been, 'thru all these lovely 25 years.I don't gloat, though. No hubris either. Too well-behaved for that. (Yes, you just got it, should cut-paste to the list above: I'm proud of my manners as well. Dear me.) Thus so far, my hidden pretentiousness never does me any harm. The problem is, I begin to realise *things* about me. Like, it seems I'm no longer witty. Or I never was, and the self-deceit I had been engaging myself in has come to a screeching halt. And should it be true, all the rest of my good qualities would then be condemned questionable.This is a solemn, aching moment- to sit and reflect upon the truth in (or lack thereof) these alleged qualities of mine.But why bother? True or not true, I'D LIKE to keep the good opinions I give of myself. Lack of humility is better than lack of self-confidence. And way way way better than hypocrisy. Nietzsche even wrote of humility as a false virtue which concealed the frailties and hidden crookedness in its holder (what a mouthful!). You go, old man.However, as I'm *still* sitting solemnly to contemplate all my wonderful virtues, let me finish this rambling with a solemn prayer, "Lord, where I am wrong, make me willing to change; where I am right, make me easy to live with".There! :-)
I'M WRITING FOR FUN :-)
This is for Dewa. (Hear ye, Dewa, i specifically dedicate this to you! Now buy me lunch :p)He once -and twice and thrice- said that my writings were so gloomy. A bit creepy. Positively distressing. Like i had no sunshine in my life. And what was worse- i deliberately tried to wipe off my readers' bit of sunshine, too. Now it doesn't sound so appealing. I believe he even went further as to say that my writings were responsible for some of his fits of nausea. His other fits were probably the result of my killing glance on hearing that very comment.Oh well. He's always exaggerating; my friend Dewa. But being a sensible person, i had to take precautions of his senseless ramblings. Taking the pains to read over my own written blabber, i found out the aching truth: he was right. I hardly wrote anything fun. The bottom line of each and every writing i posted was always about my being slighted by the gender-biased society, my being annoyed by someone who expected me to be sharp, my being p*ssed off because people wouldn't listen, my pseudo-broken heart, my constant deficit in financial department, and so on and so on.I wonder why.Am i not content with life? Am i not a person with cheery, happy disposition? Am i not "Joy. Pure Joy." as what i took the liberty to label myself?And even *this* is going to end up as another distressing post, i see.Better bend it before it's too late, won't we? Think of something heart-gladdening. Like sunshine. Blue sky. Birds chirping. Breeze blowing in. Friends nearby. Liverpool winning all the matches (in MY dreams, ha ha). Jamie Aditya down on his knees proposing to me. Me lying down on the grass, staring at the sky of Hokkaido. All the books I drool on. Chocolate. Loads of chocolate.But i gotta stop- it has grown to be a very selfish list. Let's think of something heart-gladdening, yet more beneficial to fellow mankind. Like Barack Obama becoming US president. Indonesians dropping dead when they commit corruption. People commencing war against ecological violations. Every John minor and little Siti having the much-needed education they deserve. Poverty then will be history. So will capitalism. And greed. And all evil drives.Feeling better? I've pictured you an utopia. But to tell the truth, i am *not* feeling better. Because the very essence of an utopia is that it is unreal. And the very essence of being unreal is that it is not what you have. It might never be what you have (save for Barack Obama, coz very likely he'll be doing great with the presidency run).And where it leads us to?Simply that *this* is yet another disturbing writing of mine. Oh Dewa, i'm so sorry i can't be cheery. But it's just me.
lost in bali
