I do realise that I’ve abandoned my blog up to the point that I only get to check it a few times a month (that is provided if I still remembered!). Work’s been hectic as always, the students either bug me kill me or love me and I am always in a state of exhaustion and beyond caring by the time I get home from work.

But a few important things have happened and I can’t wait to share them with you.

First, I have acquired a new addiction slash hobby, and it’s all thanks to Toni Wahid. His crib is practically my second home now and I can safely say that Micah would feel the same way. And because he always makes sure that he poisons me with a cup of his delicious latte everytime I come to visit, thanks to him, now instant coffee tastes like some horrible shit that I refuse to call coffee. And again, thanks to him, now I know the reason why coffee shops sell coffee beans (in the past, I seriously thought people who bought coffee beans must have nothing better to do with their lives), and I also own a French press which I use religiously. Every two or three days, I would grind coffee beans and bring it to work, just so I can have my daily coffee fix, in which if I don’t, I’d get horribly cranky and fidgety.

Now you might think this is not such a big deal but coming from a girl who used to have trouble sleeping because she consumed a cup of Nescafe coffee (a cup, just the one cup!), this is a pretty big deal. I found out that specialty coffee would not prevent me from having having a good sleep. I could consume a couple of cups during the day and I’d be right as rain to sleep during the night.

The second addiction, and this is by far the most recent, it’s so fresh it’s still dewy and all; we finally have an EOS. And what I mean by ‘we’ is that Himself and I have been fascinated by our new toy, the Canon EOS 550D. Himself and I can’t seem to stop playing around with it, taking photos of things and just generally feeling smug about holding such a cool, serious-looking camera in our hands. It’s still a kit because it comes with the standard 18-55 lens (not one of those red-ringed lens!) but it’s pretty cool. Of course we’d be thinking of purchasing a much more advanced lens – soon enough!

Last but not least – I am getting married in a week.

Now; before you go, “Wh-wh-whaaaaat?!” do realise that this is simply something that Himself and I have been intending to do since three years ago. We’ve planned it a year ago, and we decided to have it done the way we’d want it to be; a nice simple outdoor ceremony that faces the beach in which our closest friends and families will attend. So after endless researches and inquiries made to different venues and hotels, we’ve chosen Ayana Spa and Resort as the most ideal place for us to get wed. We’ve emailed different hotels and Ayana by far seem to be the one who has given the best responses and tried as best as they can to cater our needs. Plus, they’ve upgraded our hotel rooms which is a pretty sweet deal!

The color theme that we’ve chosen are ivory white and yellow, which I think will look great. We’ve chosen yellow and white for the flower bouquet as well. Himself and I have got our dresses and suits ready. Mine is quirky and fun and unlike any other wedding dresses you’ve seen before, and himself looks pretty dashing in his suit I really can’t keep my hands off him!

Now that’s all for now from me – more details about the wedding will follow – I hope. Who knows, by this time next week I’d already be in paradise and having the best time of my life.

For some people, a dog is just a dog. A furry, four-legged animal that scratches around and licks its genital absentmindedly, and bark and whine for unknown reason.

But for others, a dog is a ray of sunshine. A source of happiness. A reason why we all want to rush home quickly. And a reason why we ever want to get up so early on weekends, if it weren’t for the constant whining we get for delaying their morning rituals.

Ever since I’ve had Micah, I have to admit that my life has changed completely. For better or worse, in sickness and in health. Quite literally, I’m afraid.

Dog lovers know that having a dog is not easy – it’s a lifetime commitment, as a dog can live up to twelve years or more, and during those years we must be prepared to face whatever challenges that come our ways – right from day one.

For Micah, it has been a bumpy road ever since I adopted him. He was crying all night the first time he was brought home, obviously missing his family and being scared of all the sudden, new environment he was forced to be in.

The loneliness that he had to face whenever I left him for work was not easy either. I had to put him in the back balcony upstairs and locked the door because the maid we had back then was scared of dogs. So every morning, Micah would cry and refused to be put there. He’d jump and jump in vain to see me vanished before his very eyes, until he would see me again in the afternoon.

What we humans often forget to realise is that dogs think and feel quite differently than us. When we leave them at home, they don’t know when we’re going to come back. All they know is that we’re gone, and they’re left alone. So all that whining and crying is not them being overdramatised, it’s their fear of loneliness.

Thankfully, Micah has reached and understanding that I will always come back, so every weekdays when I have to leave for work, I bid him farewell and scratch his neck and kiss the top of his forehead while telling him not to be naughty, and he just sits there and looks at me with those beautiful eyes. As I close the door, he just sits and stares at me. But the fact that he’s so understanding about it actually breaks my heart even more. I really wish I could bring him wherever I go.

There are funny moments too – moments that I really can’t explain except that perhaps, if it’s even possible, that Micah actually understands human language.

Whenever he has his toys lying around outside the bedroom, I always make sure he carries them back in. So when I head to the bedroom, I tell him to go get his toy. At first he seemed a bit confused, but not when I tell him to do so, he simply picks his toy up with his teeth, carries them all the way in to the bedroom. and drops them off once he’s inside.

When he is in my bedroom and he wants to go to the toilet, he simply goes and sits next to the door. If this still doesn’t catch my attention, he wails and cratches the door until I open it for him. Sometimes, when I’m too lazy, he can go to the toilet by himself, but most of the times he demands a company.

Then there are the strange habits. Remember how he climbs the bedside table and sleeps on it? Well, now he climbs the unused dining table downstairs by using the massaging chair that sits next to it. I noticed this when I was downstairs making something in the kitchen, when I realised that he was nowhere to be seen. I called him over and over when I noticed a brown, furry figure that had the same color as the dining table, lying comfortably on top of it. I was awed. Nobody taught him that, and I never would’ve thought of him as a dog who loved heights.

As a dachshund, I have to admit that Micah doesn’t particularly warm up to people that easily, unlike a Golden Retriever, or a Labrador. In fact, he is quite picky about them. But when he really likes someone, he will follow them around everywhere like their biggest fan. He even rolls around and taunt his belly, demanding a tummy rub from his newbest friend.

That’s what happened today, when I went over to Toni’s house. At first I was worried that he wouldn’t like it there because he is quite suspicious to new places, even more because there are no dogs there, unlike at Juinita’s house. But he fell in love with Toni and his house immediately (mostly because of the coffee smell). He was even served a special coffee made by Toni and he followed Toni around like a lovesick puppy ever since. I’ve never seen him so infatuated with a stranger that quickly before.

I was also worried that he wouldn’t be able to control his bladder, but to my surprise, Micah seemed to understand where he was supposed to go. I was worried he would go inside the house, but he actually did it at the front porch where the ground was cement-coated. I was awed once again by his cleverness.

He was also so excited to be able to explore Toni’s house and had the smell of coffee emanating from the kitchen, and because the fence was quite high and safe, he was able to sit in front of it and scare the people who walk or drive past by barking at them – something I wouldn’t let him do at home since our fence is wide enough for him to get out.

People at work think it’s funny that I care so much – perhaps even too much – about my dog. But for me, he is more than a dog. He is my son, and whenever I’m away I always think of him and wonder what he is doing at that very moment.

Humans think a dog must be so privileged to be loved and cared for by humans, but really, it is our privilege as human beings, to be able to experience the unconditional love of a dog – the love we feel everyday since morning till evening.

I talk to him when I’m lonesome like;
And I’m sure he understands.
When he looks at me so attentively,
And gently licks my hands;
Then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes,
But I never say naught thereat.
For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes,
But never a friend like that.

W. Dayton Wedgefarth

This post is dedicated to Elyani Gunadi and Parvita Siregar. Special thanks to Toni Wahid for the beautiful photographs of Micah.

Thanks to Rama – the brother of the infamous Rima Fauzi – for posting “Blame It On the Boogie” lyrics to one of my Facebook statuses, now I’ve got that Jackson Five song stuck in my head. It is an undeniably catchy song and no matter how old it is, you can still groove to it. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see what the video clip looked like so I looked it up on Youtube.

Even back then, little Mike already knew how to dance so well. It just came so naturally, and he was a good looking boy too. Which makes me wonder why he did all those surgeries to himself, because I personally think there’s nothing wrong with his looks at all. He’d got it all – the talent to dance, to sing and to entertain people. He even touched millions of hearts with his meaningful lyrics when talking about peace for the world and caring for the earth.

Some say it was something to do with his self-confidence and his dark childhood, as his father was very abusive to him and his brothers. For Joe Jackson, the Jackson Five seemed to be no more than his personal money-making machines that could be physically and mentally abused, just because he could. And yet, out of all the five brothers, Michael seemed to be the one that was proven to be the most successful. Whether it was his strength or perseverance, it was obvious that he could make something positive out of his abusive childhood.

And yet …

I still don’t understand why he would continue to abuse himself for the rest of his life, even when his father could no longer do that to him anymore. He made himself became known to the rest of the world, creating songs that touched people’s heart, spreading the message of peace and love. With all the things that he had achieved, he should be the happiest man in the world. People loved him no matter what. His fans shed tears even by the sight of him. Simply said, a lot people loved Michael for who he was. And yet, Michael never seemed to love himself.

Some people say he was sick. Mentally disturbed. Or just plain addicted to plastic surgery. But we all knew what really happened. Or perhaps we guessed?

It was the feeling of never being good enough. Never being appreciated by the people that you look up to. Never truly loved by those who supposed to love you the most. Now, you could be the richest person in the world, but if you didn’t have love, you simply had nothing. And being an artist he was, not being appreciated by those who mattered to you, could be a slow and painful death. It didn’t matter that thousands or millions of people loved him to death, if his own parents were unappreciative towards what he had achieved.

Michael wasn’t the only one who suffered from this mental disease. Many people do.  The difference was that, Michael could channel out most of that energy into something productive. Most people, unfortunately, channel it out by making others as miserable as they are. If Michael chose to abuse himself, most people choose to abuse others.

These are the same type of people you would see in your neighborhood, gossiping and badmouthing other people just so that they could feel better about themselves. Or the people you would see at work, trying to kiss ass and do manipulative things because they had issues with their self-confidence and their self-worth. The people who were incapable of saying anything nice about others because they were just too unhappy to begin with.

Unhappiness could be caused by many things. Perhaps these people never really had love in their homes. They were unappreciated, left alone and abandoned. Or perhaps because these people thought they never deserved to be happy. But most of all, unhappiness came from within each of us. We either try to be happy or we won’t.

When a person is unhappy, the logic is that he himself is not able to make other people happy. If he can make peace with himself, then he can learn to be happy, thus learn how to make others happy. And it all goes back to whether or not this person wants to change, and whether or not this person could accept himself.

Accepting who you are, and making peace with yourself is one of the most important step to be happy. As long as you keep all the negative feelings bottled up inside, it’s impossible for you to even be aware that you’re missing out on a lot of fun things out there.

The question is; how many of us are willing to change?

Happiness is what we’re all searching for. And each of us has our own definition. Despite all the things Michael had done to himself, he will always be remembered as the King of Pop whose songs had inspired people to love.

So what would you like to be remembered as? Because the choice is always yours.

As a person who loves to dream about exotic places, I often browse the net just to look for beautiful pictures from all over the world. But there are no other images that I love the most than those of Santorini in Greece.

The first time I saw one of the photographs at TrekEarth capturing the white little houses that scattered all over the island which had the expansive view  of the Aegean sea in contrasting bright white and navy blue, I couldn’t help but thinking how it’d feel like to really be there.

Surprisingly enough, not many people of whom I’ve conversed with have actually ever heard about this place. They know of Greece but they know nothing about the island. Even in Discovery Travel & Adventure Channel program called ‘Seductive Seaside Resorts’ – which I bought because I was thrilled to see any motion pictures of Santorini when it was mentioned at the back of the DVD cover – Santorini was placed at the lowest rank, which was no. 10, and that was ironic considering that Amankila Resort in Bali was placed further up the higher scale at no. 2!

But I fall in love with the simplicity of it so much that not even the glitzy night lights and the designer shops in New York or Paris can tempt me with. Some people might favour Paris for its romantic atmosphere, or Rome for its ancient sculptures and paintings, but it is Santorini that really captures my heart all the time.

It’s not so much the exoticity of it that really enchants me, but the idea that this volcanic island is filled with houses  that are so uniformly monochromatic when looked from afar, as if all the dwellers have had some sort of agreement not to use any other paints to paint their residencies in any other colors except white, blue, and various hues of yellows and oranges. And the uneven path that goes up and down along the houses makes it seem like there are so many things to be explored there, and that anywhere you turn, the view of the Aegean Sea welcomes you always.

When I used to work in the corporate  company and there was one of those occasional days when I got so stressed out, I’d secretly browse images of Santorini (which I’d saved obsessively like there was no tomorrow) and all of a sudden, life didn’t feel so difficult anymore. If I could just imagine myself opening that door and see that deep blue sea stretching out to nowhere …

And then there was that one night during the weekend when I was home alone, flicking at the TV channels randomly until I settled on HBO where it was showing a movie about four girls who apparently could fit into the same pair of jeans despite the differences on their body shapes. That’s right, I’m talking about The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, the movie adaptation of the novel written by Ann Brashares. And in that movie, Lena the Greek girl went to Santorini for her summer holiday and fell in love with a Greek boy called Kostas who was absolutely gorgeous but who cares about the boy? I was drooling at the fact that I got to see Santorini in all its glory being featured in an enjoyable movie that had become my all-time favorite movie ever.

I’d been obsessing about this island ever since. It was my secret,  my ultimate dream destination that got me thinking, “Even if I do end up going there someday… it would be fun to be going there with the person who loves it as much as I do.” As silly as it sounds to some people, and despite the fact that I’d probably won’t get there until I’m 50, I do believe that everyone must have a dream, no matter how silly it may seems, it’s so much better, as the saying goes, to have a dream than not having any at all.

I was still pondering (most of the time, obsessing of course) over this idea, until I met my soulmate. And guess what? It was his dream destination too. Still is. Sometimes when I’m all depressed and losing my perspective in life, I often ask him whether we would actually get there. But he, being the positive person he is, without fail will always say the same thing, over and over again, “Yes, we will.”

Someday, we’ll get there.

December 2nd, 2006. 18:10 pm

“Hey, I’m sorry for being so late.” I said to you as soon as I spotted you – you were standing in front of the book shop, looking so different than the usual person that I saw everyday at work.

I was sorry I forgot to give you my number. If only you knew how much I’d been waiting for you to call. But you did, unexpectedly so. And I’d been racing against the time so that I could finally be here, this evening, and for the first time ever, spend some time alone with you.

“It’s okay. I was at the bookshop for a while anyway because I had to get some things. Shall we eat first?” You offered, and I agreed. If only you knew how fast my heart was beating, afraid that I’d be late and you’d be gone. After all, I’d made you wait for three hours while I was waiting for my car to get fixed at the repair shop, and got stuck in a traffic jam after. It sort of felt like the world was preventing me to be with you.

But I made it after all, looking less than perfect because it was pouring outside hours ago and I was walking in the drizzle, my hair looking damp and frizzy, and I got drops of water all over my white shirt and jeans. Funny you didn’t seem to notice any of it whatsoever.

I was giddy, excited and nervous on my way to see you – I couldn’t figure out why. After all, we were friends and it wasn’t the first time I hung out with a guy friend. But it felt different for no obvious reasons.

And as soon as I saw you, and stood next to you, my heart slowed down; I felt relaxed and I was gradually starting to feel like myself again. I even managed to steal a piece of your tuna fusilli during dinner – something I’d never do in a million years with someone I didn’t know so well. I always had a thing about invading other people’s personal spaces, and mine.

Except that evening, at the precise moment when I met you, I felt like I’d known you well enough to see a reflection of myself in you. Even when we finally finished our meal, we both sat back and sighed with relief while holding our full stomachs – and at that very moment I knew that I would never do something as honest and totally unappealing as that, in front of any guy I’d just met.

But it was so easy to be with you, I could always be myself and I knew you wouldn’t think of me differently.
I didn’t have to explain or say anything to be understood, you knew immediately. Even before I could say something, sometimes you were able to read my minds.
Like the time when we just arrived at the restaurant and we just sat down at one of the tables and somehow, it just didn’t feel right sitting there. It was too open and there were too many children around (I had a thing about noisy, clumsy children at restaurants, they tend to be disastrous).

As if you knew what I was thinking, you called one of the waitress and asked to move tables. As the night wore out, you continued to surprise me, and I continued to surprise myself at how well I knew you.

It was strange in a way that I never got that feeling during the days when we stumbled upon each other at work, doing idle chit-chats out of boredom and lending each other books and CDs. The conversations that we had were always short and brief – perhaps because we were afraid of what people at work might thought of us.

During the movie, we were sitting so close together I almost felt like we were going on a date, except that we’d both knew it was an evening we couldn’t define. The cinema was getting awfully cold and I was hugging my legs, sort of hoping that you’d brought a jacket or something because I was badly in need of a substitute for a blanket.

As if you could read my mind, the second you saw me you said,”I have a jacket in my backpack, if you want to use it. Do you want me to get it out for you?”

I nodded eagerly, not believing my luck and soon afterward, I was enveloped in your scent – I was happy. I wished I could’ve brought that jacket home with me. You looked at me again and you chuckled, but I didn’t care how stupid I looked. I was warm and I couldn’t ask for more.

But half an hour later you sheepishly asked me to share your jacket because you were getting cold as well. So there we were, sitting next to each other and sharing the jacket together. I didn’t want the movie to end, and I was thinking whether you felt the same way.

When the movie ended, it was late already and I insisted on driving you home – after all it was the least I could do after I made you wait for hours. To be honest though, I just wanted to spend more time with you.

As we walked to the car, our hands touched and I wished I could’ve held yours.

“Message me as soon as you get home, okay? And drive safely, please, it’s really late.” You asked me as soon as I dropped you home.

“I will. Don’t worry.” Surprised and elated by your attention, I was glad to abide.

I drove home and I felt wonderful. It had been ages since I had a really good time with someone, and not just anyone – someone I didn’t know I could be myself with. “I had a really good time,” I thought to myself, and I wanted so much to let you know, except that I was worried that it might be too much for you.

That night, I lied on my bed and thought about you. I wanted to capture everything that I felt that evening, because I knew that it was probably the only evening that I had with you. You belonged to someone else, after all.

But that night, it was just you and me, and even if it was as insignificant as any other day when two friends hung out together having dinner and watching a movie, it was the night when I’d known that my prayers were answered.

And for that brief moment alone, I was happy. I found myself and my happiness, along with my faith, on that night in December.

Our December.