Glowing Cilacap.

Oh hello there! It feels like it’s been ages since I post something (exaggerating much?). Apparently I have been a 28 year old woman for about a week or so. I’m still reeling from all the craziness that I am an actual living, breathing, walking human being for 28 years! Take that in for a moment. Take that thought with you when you have your next birthday, then you’ll understand the significance of your birthday, how it is more than just all celebration and blowing candles or what have you.

Well enough about birthday. Now, let me tell you a story of where I’ve been the past week. I had another business trip which I’m still debating whether or not I should be excited about it. This business trip requires me to go to a regency in Central Java, Indonesia, by the name of Cilacap. I can go there by bus, train, or plane (!!). Obviously, a plane seems like a reasonable mode of transportation. I’ve been told that I will have to ride on a small aircraft; in this case it’s a Cessna 208 Caravan (which to me is all just gibberish). I really couldn’t care less what type of airplane it would be, so long as it’s something I’ve never tried before. Lo and behold, I rode along on a Cessna 208 Caravan, which I’m so stoke about. I took tons of pictures and videos (not to mention many of failed attempts on selfies). On hindsight, the plane ride was what made the whole business trip worth a bit while, as oppose to the work itself (it always is, isn’t it?)

Now, what can I say about Cilacap? I can tell you that their slogan happens to be Cilacap Bercahaya whih I loosely translate as Glowing Cilacap, for lack of better translation. I can’t tell you much about Cilacap for I was only there for two nights and I didn’t have that much time to go around (blame that on my excessive need to get a nap). But, here’s one highlight. One night, as I was going to bed, I decide to brush my teeth first. I open the bathroom door….BAM BAM! Two freaking cockroaches were dancing on the freaking basin!!! TWO. FREAKING. COCKROACHES. DANCING. ON. THE. FREAKING. BASIN!!! The exact same basin where I was going to brush my teeth! Aggh! Simply put, I murder those cockroaches. <insert generic evil laughter here>.

Also, my nook just reboot itself, causing me to lose all my books in it. Normally I would have been super chill about this, I mean I could just plug my nook to my laptop and just put everything back to its place, but I DIDN’T BRING MY LAPTOP TO CILACAP!! So, I was left to my ow devices, which ironically contains nothing!

ps. I might upload some of those picture and videos taken on board the Cessna to my instagram sometime in the future. Do not worry, for my failed attempt selfie will not be uploaded as it will not live to see the sun anyway.

 

 

Let it goooo~~~

A conversation with oneself in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, Conceal.

“conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know. well now they knoooowwww!!! Let it goooo…”

“Stop it! What is wrong with you? It’s ten PM. Some people are trying to sleep, you know? Also, what’s with the song choice? Let it go? Really? It’s 2016! Let. It. Go! Let the freaking song go, please.”

“wow, you sure feisty for someone who’s about to go to sleep. don’t blame me, blame it on the prompt. the thing says conceal, what am i suppose to do but sing the song?”

“Err I don’t know, maybe conceal your need to sing the song?”

“okay am I missing something right now? this is the second time you’re being very sensitive. wait! don’t tell me! I’m guessing this is work related?”

“Ha..ha funny.”

“it is about work.”

“It always is, isn’t it. But, weird this is, at this point I no longer know what I’m complaining about. I feel like I couldn’t even properly think how to complain. It’s work, what more to say about it? What more can I complain about it?”

“here’s something you can complain about, the people you work with. oh my God, it’s still fresh in my mind how pissed you were this afternoon and how hard, while also noting how good you are, at concealing those emotions. see what I did there? conceal? match the prompt, right?”

“Oh my God, is this your sad attempt at trying to make me feel better from today’s long and hard day? And don’t you dare try to make some sexual innuendo!”

“okay, didn’t really work in making you feel better but at least i took your mind off of it for just a wee bit while, right?”

“Okay, considering this is our bed time and most likely we’ll woke up late again tomorrow, I’m just going to say that I’m tired of complaining. I just want next week to be over. I want to get everything over and done with.”

“don’t we all?”

“In the mean time, it’s best that we try our best concealing how we loathe coming to work. See? I can also incorporate today’s prompt in my speech?”

put one foot in front of the other.

A conversation with oneself in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, Footsteps.

“Good God! What were you thinking when you ate the whole seven, SEVEN, because I think it bears repeating, KFC’s chicken wings?”

“i wasn’t thinking. that’s the whole purpose, right?”

“Uh, NO!! Good God! I can’t believe you ate the whole entire bucket. What kind of a monster are you?”

“a hungry one?”

“Please don’t joke around with me right now.”

“calm. down. whatever happened to our deal? you’re the calm and collected one, and i am the voice of reason.”

“The voice of reason? You’re kidding me, right? What kind of a voice of reason would eat the whole entire bucket of chicken wings? And don’t tell me it’s the hungry kind, because I call bull on that.”

“alright, you’re going to have to start telling me why you’re freaking out over a bucket of chicken wings. it’s not like you’re not enjoying it.”

“This. Is. Stress. Eating! STRESS EATING!! You’re binge eating because you’re stressed out, and frankly speaking, that’s not healthy! You have got to stop this binge eating thing.”

“pfft, what are you talking about? stressed? who’s stressed? if anyone is stressed out right now, that’s going to be you”

“Duh, and whose fault is that?”

“yours.”

“How is it my fault?”

“i don’t know. i can’t be at fault here. i’m just the voice of reason. i am the sum of everything that you’re going through. the fact that my first instinct is to eat the whole entire bucket of chicken wings is probably derived from the fact that you are stressing out about something, therefore i have to do some crazy and wild stuff to take my mind or your mind or whatever, i’m confused now, from that stressing out thing.”

“I don’t know, man. It’s just work. Wait, wait, don’t give the eye roll. Work’s not that bad. I’m getting the hang of it. It’s just the constant responsibility, and the constant ringing of my phone, even on weekends, it’s driving me to the edge, you know? I know that work is suppose to be demanding, but I never thought I’d be that person that would be taking phone calls about work on weekends. It feels strange and not me. And it’s freaking me out. What if I change into this horrible adult that have its phone attached or sewed onto their hand because work is just so demanding? It’s my nightmare.”

“man, that sucks. but it’s not like there’s much we can do about, is there? you know, except for going through it all, hoping along the way you’ll get used to it or able to figure out what to do with the sudden changes. what’s that thing you used to say when people asked you about your plan for the future?”

“I don’t have a specific plan, I’m just putting one foot in front of the other.”

“maybe it’s time to walk the walk? look, do the job if you have to, and i’m guessing you kinda have to. eat if you feel like it’ll make you feel better, and when we gain too much weight, we’ll figure something else on how to address that. i can’t vouch that i won’t be eating the whole bucket of chicken wings, but i can promise you that we’ll figure out these changes together. besides, you’re pretty much stuck with me.”

Bali: In retrospect.

Just came back from a trip in Bali yesterday, and I have to be honest, Bali is not my favourite spot for a trip, business or pleasure. Wait! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that Bali is not a great place to spend your free time in. Sure, if you’re into beaches, surfing, yoga, zen places, and stuff. Wait, I guess I’m just not into adventuring and exploring places. Whatever. Point is, I just came back from Bali.

The last time I was there probably somewhere in late 2013 or early 2014, and to be completely honest, my trip to Bali has yet to be good memorable than bad memorable. Most of the times I’m in Bali is for business rather than pleasure, not that it made any difference, because I would rather be at the hotel rather than out there venturing what Bali has to offer. So, if by some weird chance, you stumble upon this post and think that this would be a travel post about Bali, I suggest that you should not hold your hopes up, because this ain’t that kind of post.

Bali for me has been a place where I would dress up like I’m in a wrong place at the wrong time (not like this is a rare thing to do). Picture this, sunny skies, blue sea, people sunbathing, and there I am with full-on business suit. Well, it’s not like I’m the only one, but that is Bali for me. It has only been for work, and it has never been a nice experience, until the latest trip.

Okay, let’s not jump the gun here. I’m not saying the latest trip to Bali was a nice trip or anything, it still wasn’t ideal and I’d rather be at home than in Bali (I know, I know, it made me sound like an ungrateful prick, but it is what it is). But, I learn something in 2015; when you detach yourself from your unfavourable surrounding (whatever it is), you tend to get your job done faster than when you put your mind into it (be it because you hate the job and you dread doing it or because you’re just such a perfectionist). And so, the whole Bali trip this time, I close off my mind and detach myself from everything, just taking myself one step at a time and be robot-like in terms of performing my job.

What do you know? Thursday can’t come sooner than I thought. Sure, there was some bump along the roads (i.e, sassy and unnecessary comments from your upper echelon, sore feet from high heels, sweaty shirt from my inappropriate attire in Bali, not getting enough time to hang out with friends because it’s always either you or them that’s too busy), but this was something that I had not think of during my other business trip before. Okay, for fear that I’m getting a stink eye, I actually was freaking out and got into a bit of an anxiety attack (okay, maybe not a bit, but quite a huge one) prior to leaving for Bali, but as I shut down all mechanism and went autopilot, it went faster than I had expected (emphasise on faster, it didn’t went easier, but I’m good with faster in the mean time).

Okay, where am I going with this? I guess I’m not going anywhere with it. I just want to see my four days in Bali in retrospect and see if I had learn anything in the process. And as weird as this might sound for other people, I did learn that when you shut down everything (mostly your emotion), you (and by you, I mean myself) can get your job done faster without any painful memories that last a lifetime (I am, after all, a man with vengeance).

And so, I hope I will not have another Bali trip in the mean time. I just want to get my mechanism back, but I’m not holding my hopes up because I’ll be on another business trip comes April, to Makassar, South Sulawesi. Let’s see what I can learn from that trip. Ciao!

talk dirty to the trash can.

A personal rant in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, Dirty.

I am now seriously thinking to have a specific categories on which I just basically complain about work. Okay, maybe not complain, more like where I dedicate a whole entire post for work (or my lack of commitment to my work). Should I be doing that? Yeah, I guess I should. ‘Tis Sunday will a be a productive Sunday, I suppose.

Okay, now that’s out there, let’s get to the juice we’re squeezing. Dirty? When do I feel dirty the most? Literally speaking, I would feel dirty the most when I haven’t even taken a shower for half a day, or I’m already out and about and I haven’t even brush my teeth (which, I never done, by the way) or probably when I’m feeling a wee bit smelly on me armpit (hence why I don’t do support). But, if we’re talking about figuratively feeling dirty the most, that would probably when I work.

Now, don’t get this wrong. I’m on a legit line of work, but the working environment is not my ideal kind of working environment (but then again, when has a working environment ever been ideal to anyone?). In my line of work, I am required to be a polite and be a just “Yes, Sir” kind of person. It’s extremely hard to voice your opinion freely. Or maybe it’s just me? I can’t speak for other people on my line of work, I can only speak on my own behalf, and this is what I get to say.

Last Thursday, we had a meeting. As per usual, I am in charge of taking notes of the meeting. By the time the meeting ends, I feel like both my bosses had understand the result differently with how I had understand it, and so I took the leap of faith to tell my boss about how I had understand the meeting and subtlety inform him that he might have understood it incorrectly. What do I get from that? A reprimand, and a piece of information that I am a junior and that there is no way I would have been the correct one here. Which is totally fine (except that I’m just still bitter). Maybe he is right, maybe I know no better. Maybe he’s the one on the right.

Come Saturday, I got an email from the person we had the meeting with last Thursday. In the said email, she was reiterating some of the points made during the meeting; of which she made the exactly same points as to my understanding. MY. UNDERSTANDING. WAS. THE. SAME. AS. SHE. WAS!!!

Okay, obviously I was figuratively performing jumping jacks because I was correct the whole time ( and I like being right), but then it dawned on me after a couple of hours had passed. Wait, is this what it feels like to just accept your bosses point of view and act all smiling as if you’re always on the wrong, just because you’re at the bottom of the food chain, and in order to keep your job intact, you accept the injustice that was bestowed upon you?

And, folks, that was when I feel (figuratively) dirty the most. I can’t believe I have succumbed to the  part of being a lowlife and accept the injustice treatment because I am at the starting point of my career, simply because I am scared of displeasing my boss, because I’m afraid it would affect my career. I am angry at the fact I didn’t stand up for myself. This might have been just much too simple of an example for one to feel dirty of oneself, but this is one of the many occurrences where I let myself be stepped on and act like it don’t bother me, just so I can keep my job.

Ugh! Just thinking about it made me feel dirty. Maybe I should take a shower now.

Fight another day

A conversation with oneself in response to The Daily post writing prompt, Fight.

“great! who are we fighting today?”

“We’re not fighting anybody, it’s just the prompt.”

“great, and i thought that for once something exciting is going to happen today.”

“Look, I know you’re cranky about going on a business trip on Monday, but you can’t resolve those anger through violence.”

“who says anything about violence? i was thinking somewhere along a nice banter.”

“Still, why do you have to go and fight people all the time? I thought we’ve passed this stage.”

“what stage? the stage where i’m always constantly angry? oh, sweet heart, we’re never getting past that stage. i just, somehow, am getting better at controlling it on the surface.”

“Whatever. Why are you angry, anyway? Is this about the Monday trip?”

“it’s about everything. the monday trip, the trip on april, and the other trip after that. not to mention work.”

“Ah, it’s always about work, isn’t it? Did you notice that in the past one month that you’re back at work, you’ve been constantly so hung up on work that it’s all you can think about. You’re sucking your own happiness because you’re so hung up on it.”

“oh shut up, don’t you think i don’t know that? i know that, and i am also well aware of it. i try not to get too hung up on it, but it’s just hard you know. you woke up for work. you battle traffic for work. you fake a smile and made small talk here and there for work. everything you do has been for work.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that.”

“you know what it feels like everyday? it feels like going to a battlefield and you can’t fight anything, because the battle is within you and you’re fighting yourself. it’s a fight that i cannot win.”

“I know, and I wished it would have been different. Maybe it’ll get better in the future? Say, in 5 years from now?”

“it’ll be better than today, but there will always be another fight that i can’t fight. see the irony and the oxymoron there?”

“Stop being sad and depressing, will you? Monday is still two days from now.”

“i’m not being sad and or depressing, if you must know. i’m angry. i’m angry and i can’t let it all out, because i can’t fight this stupid fight i’m having with you.”

“Okay, let’s take a time out. Do you want to watch a movie? Interstellar is playing on HBO.”

“sure, whatever.”

Beggars can’t be choosers.

A personal rant in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, Incomplete.

Do Backstreet Boys have a song called Incomplete? Oh well, I’m just going to assume they do, because the first time I saw this prompt, I had a song that somehow reminded me of Backstreet Boys. But, hey, I’m not stealing some time off from work to talk about a Backstreet Boys’ song. As interesting as that might be, this post is not about that. So, what to talk about when it comes to incomplete? Life? Companion? My wallet’s content? Yeah, I think that would be it.

Good God, I’m turning 28 in a matter of weeks and I feel like I am not where I thought I would be, financial wise. Some wise-soul out there (did you catch me rolling my eyes? I was being sarcastic when I type this) would say that I should have work harder or probably be in another line of work if financial gain is what I’m after. But, the thing is, in my very narrowed mind, I could work as hard as I ever could and I would be exactly where I already am. Well, maybe not for some people, and maybe I could be like some other people. Now, this is where things get a bit tricky.

I have nothing. Well, not literally. But, I literally have no position of leverage. I have not enough money to bargain with anything. What I do have, is my dignity and my ego. To work twice as hard without the ability to cater to your boss would probably results in going back to square one. Nothing is improving. But, some people aren’t just meant to be caterer. Take me, for example, I can make small talks, but I can never cater to other people. Heck, I don’t even cater to my younger brother when he was sick (but this was aeons ago, when we were kids, now I try to be a bit more caring with my family members). Oh, heck where am I going with this rant?

Point is, when all I have is my dignity and ego, I should and would not shed the last remaining two for the sake of other things, say for instance monetary gain. As much as money is one tempting thing in my life, if in order to gain it, I must shed my dignity and/or my ego by kissing somebody’s ass or be a total caterer (while knowing that’s not what I’m suppose to do), I’d rather not gain any money from the process. Oh well, I think I’m missing a lot of the point here. To be completely honest (and in spite of making myself look pathetic), work incompletes me.

Not only I am less happy than before I had this job, the surrounding and the people I work with (or for, depending on how one sees it) is taking a toll of my happiness state. To made matter even worse, it’s hard to feel good about yourself when people look at you and sees you as no more than your gender. People don’t come to you for answer because you’re a woman. People don’t listen to you when you’re a woman without a position. You get overlooked a lot, and most of the time, you only get administrative work and petty things because you’re a woman and women are known to be meticulous person (and although I can be very detailed, I am not one for meticulous job). But, hey, when you’re at the bottom of the food chain, you can’t really complain much, can you?

 

Much busy. Such work.

Oh wow! When I said that work was going to interfere with my reading time, I didn’t expect it to interfere with my whole life in general. Not only that I need more time, than I usually need, to finish a single book, I can’t even find the time to write my review about the said book. Ugh! Being an adult is such serious work.

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I went from just reading from one book to the other with playing The Sims somewhere in between to actually not having enough time to sleep and racking my brain hard to come up with time when and how am I going to enjoy my current read book.

Why do people have to go adult? Not to mention, work is still as boring as ever and as time consuming as ever. Ugh!

Anyways, let me tell you a story of how I went to Manado, North Sulawesi and went back looking like extremely unattractive (even more so than I usually was). Here’s how it goes. I went to Manado, North Sulawesi and went on a boat ride. I’m not much a sun person, simply because I hate getting all sweaty, but that day the weather was nice and the wind was pretty much enjoyable. And so I decided to just lounge around (and I use this term lightly) on top the boat’s deck. It was just such a nice day to enjoy the view of Bitung (which is about an hour car ride from Manado).

After awhile, I began to sweat (actually it was hours later) and I start wiping scratching my arm when I notice a stinging pain on both my arms. I looked at at it, lo and behold, ’tis what becomes of my arm after I came back from Bitung.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BCHqPX6QzNo/?taken-by=dilchh

Oh well, there must have been a proper reason as to why I never go out in the sun. Why must I go against my better judgement? Now, look what have become of me?

Alright then, I must end this post here, for I still have many things to do and one can only steal one hour of one’s own working time to post an utterly unimportant post.

I don’t want my job to define who I am.

A conversation with oneself in response to The Daily Post writing prompt, Money for Nothing.

“If you’re like most of us, you need to earn money by working for a living. Describe your ultimate job. If you’re in your dream job, tell us all about it — what is it that you love? What fulfills you? If you’re not in your dream job, describe for us what your ultimate job would be.”

“Ugh, I hate questions like these.”

“But you hate most of the questions I gave you, anyway. What makes this one any different?”

“The word job gives me the heebie-jeebies. I mean, it’s still 8 in the morning, why are we talking about job? Isn’t it bad enough that I am already back to work that we had to talk about it too?”

“Hey, it’s not like I want to. I was just reading the writing prompt. So, are we going to do this or not?”

“I don’t think I have an ultimate job. I could have said something that has to do with writing, but the thought of making something that I like to do in my free time as a job just take all the fun out of it. I mean, what constitutes as a job anyway?”

“Here’s one definition from the Oxford dictionary, it says that job is a paid position of regular employment.”

“Ugh, please tell me you feel the goosebumps when you read that definition.”

“Why should I?”

“A paid position of regular employment? That’s what adults do at their job. They go to work in the morning, or at night depending on what you do for a living, and go home after a decent amount of time spent doing your job. At the end of the month, or beginning of the month depending on your job, you’ll get paid. That is what I am currently doing. And I hate it. Imagine if I made the one single thing I like, let’s say writing in this case, and make it my job; in just a matter of time it’ll become something that haunts me because it became something that I must do in order to get paid to sustain my daily life, instead of something that I could do for fun when I feel tired from my day job. In conclusion, I don’t have an ultimate job, because job sucks and boring, and there’s nothing to be loved from there. It’s just a means to my end. It pays the bill. It allows me to buy books and read them that eventually and hopefully help me with my writing.”

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“O..kay?”

“Look, it’s just a job. It doesn’t have to define who I am. I don’t have to be so preoccupied at what my ultimate job and what I like about it or anything. It’s something that gives me money to sort of enjoy my life, however small it is. It’s not who I am. And I really don’t want to be defined, or associated with what I do for a living.”

“Wow, you are very passionate about this job thing, aren’t you?”

“It’s not about passionate. I just hate these comments about how I’m not acting like a proper person should act in my line of work. I don’t have to change who I am just so I can fulfill someone else’s stereotype about people who had the same job as I am. Phew, I’m glad we had this talk. I’m just very agitated this morning because I’ll have a meeting after lunch today, and, ugh, I shudder just thinking about it.”

“Oh, man, I feel your pain. I mean, I’m the one who’s actually had to physically be in the meeting and you’re just going to get all anxious and figuratively sweaty in my head.”