Deja Vu

(I believe almost everyone’s favorite topic is… none other than her/his own story. So it is just natural to reflect anyone’s story to her/his own… So lo and behold, folks.)

I could’ve been her:

Sitting in the crowd, newly found best friends, having good time, talking chattering sipping the bliss of freedom, enjoying the fast and exciting pace of the world of words. Setting aside the man she’d marry, the one she thought would be the one for good, for someone new. Someone who came out of the blue, suddenly with all his wit grabbed her attention, made her fell head over heels.

He could’ve been my ex:

Calling texting like crazy wondering where she was, what she’s doing, what she’s thinking, who’s beside her. Strangling her with all the demanding words, while he’s away, hundreds of kilometres from where she was. Worrying like hell that he’s gonna lose her. Holding so tight but slightly lagging behind.

Now me, a mere spectator, cheering from outside the ring. Wondering, will it end like mine? Will she go for a fresh start or will she go back to her man? Hoping the new guy won’t hurt himself. Hoping all’s well that ends well.

Hoping when it’s time, we can freely laugh together once again, side by side, with no false pretenses.

Recently all I think is about my past time. Particularly the moments I spent with my previous significant others hahaha.

I saw the cathedral and I remembered one sweet afternoon I spent there with a man I had loved so much. I opened my laptop and while looking for a certain file, I was tempted to open a folder filled with memories with my, ahem, another past lover.

Then suddenly I plunged myself into a pool of memories.

I remember A, his mocha skin, his cloudy eyes looking straight at me, his jokes, his clique’s gossips, his hypnotyzing writings, his sweet words that always melt me over and over again, his sweet-turns-steamy kiss, his fingers gently touching me…

I remember B, his creativity, his full attention, his tender voice singing songs for me, his bouquets of flowers, his way of making me laugh all day long, his warm hugs, his strong stamina *oops* hahaha…

I remember C, his sharp eyes, his photography, his cooking, his neverending stories, his wit, his perseverance, his poems, his plans for future….

I remember D, his wonderful guitar compositions, his funny tales, his obsession with rosicrucian stuffs (of which I always secretly laughed him), his way of arousing me…. *awww*

One day I met A over facebook and had a nice chat.

I said, ‘I keep remembering you and my previous boyfriends…”

Automatically he asked, ‘Any problem with your current boy?”
(I knew he would ask this question heheheh.)

“Well, no, actually. We’re doing fine. I love him…”
(And I do mean it, folks.)

“Then why do you meddle in memories?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m having too much spare time. But I like it….”

It’s been a long, long time since the last time I posted my last entry here. Well please do blame it to the facebook frenzy, plus my laziness of writing in English (I still write in my multiply regularly, in Indonesian, though).

Today I checked this blog, read some entries, and realized that I do miss writing in English. I haven’t really use it these days. I mean, yeah, like every other Homo Jakartaensis (am borrowing Seno Gumira’s phrase here), I tend to slip English in some conversation, but that doesn’t count, right? Right.

So, hm, maybe this year I will be more dilligent in updating this blog. Maybe. We’ll see.

See you when I see you!

PS. No, the title up there has nothing to do with the rest of the entry hehehe.

First lesson: never underestimate anything.

Found out that being a business-slash-economy reporter-in-training is not as easy as I thought. My first days might be a piece of cake since no one assigned me specific, difficult tasks.

But once I was posted at the Department of Trade…

I tried to keep myself up, but at times I got carried away… Well to be honest, I’m still a follower of other journalists. I haven’t really understood what issues to cover. I haven’t known the officials and businessmen well.

Plus, the logics of my writing isn’t quite straight (yet, I hope), my editor said. (And somehow I keep feeling kinda intimidated everytime I consult him, boo-hoo…)

And it’s not easy to juggle myself between places to cover several events, while I’m also demanded to send breaking news in between the tight schedule.

Too bad I can’t freeze time. It flies goddamn fast, leaving me behind, in desperation.

I’m trying to enjoy this job… But maybe I have to try harder. Damn.

So my days at the magazine has come to an end. This far, being a new kid on the block (again) seems just okay.

As per last Monday, I have been transferred to the newspaper. There were four of us, reporters-in-training, who’ve been put in the mag first since last March. Our other ten friends had been stationed in the newspaper.

Now the time has come for a rotation. Me and three friends to the daily, while four of my fellow newshounds were dispatched to the weekly.

Rotation is a norm in the institution I’m working: it’s a never-ending process. You can see that reporters, writers and editors are bound to be ready for a change of posts, desks, compartments, and divisions (newsmagazine/newspaper/website/lifestyle magazine).

“We try our best to eliminate petite emperors,” our seniors repeats this in the training weeks. Most journalists in other mass media are assigned the same posts for years. Some of them became mini rulers — they literally rule the post, befriend the bureaucrat, steer issues, and control other reporters.

Anyway, the magazine and the paper are two very different entities. The daily’s rhythm is of course faster than the weekly’s. But you can’t expect depth — it belongs to the mag. We tended to be passive, waiting for assignments from writers and editors. Now I have to be more active, searching for events and issues to cover.

We had more days to chase sources, now we have hours. But we couldn’t sleep well thinking how to get informants. Now, after around 8 pm, we’re practically free (unless you’ve got the night shift). The office buildings are also separated, so I have to memorize different bus routes.

My first Monday was fine. I found myself in the economics and business compartment. When one or two quotes, plus a few background, is enough to craft a piece of news, I can’t help not to think that God, is it really that easy to be a daily reporter? Hahaha…

On my third day, my editor told me that I’d be stationed at the Department of Trade. So on Friday (I had a day off on Thursday), I headed to the very place, getting to know the people, and learning the issues. Folks, I’m dealing with exports-imports, commodity price, crude palm oil, trade policies, etc. now. Oh yes I’m still kinda bewildered with all of that, but I believe that eventually I’ll sort things out.

I’m ready to get in the new beat.

Yes. I’m weak towards compliments. Just say a few nice words and I’ll melt. Especially when it comes from people I admire, heheheh.

Just like last weekend, when I was on a night shift. Usually all I have to do is checking the drafts for typos. And monitor online news sites for breaking news.

But an editor came across and said, “Please write a straight news on John McCain’s newly appointed running mate. We’re gonna put it in the International Moments section.”

Uh-oh. Uhm, sir, I’m just a reporter-in-training, y’know?
(Of course I didn’t say it out loud.)

So after looking for the news in the internet, I made the requested piece in a rush.

A few minutes after that, he called, asking several questions, confirming some information. Damn, I thought, I must’ve written a rubbish piece of news.

The next hour, we had a talk and he said, “Hey, your writing is good. When I asked you to write it, actually I thought it would be tough to edit. But you’ve got it right, I only had to iron a few kinks and then polished it a bit.”

Aw aw aw! Well he did have some doubts, it’s ok, but at the end of the day, he complimented me, right? And fellas, apart from whether he’s sincere or not, being objective or not, he did hit my soft spot. In a good way (or not? hehe).

Ah, it’ll be hard not to be kinda pompous once people compliment you….

Shadows are fallin' all over town Another night and these blues got me down Oh, misery! I sure could use some company Since you been gone I ain't been the same I carry the weight like an old ball and chain Guess it's all meant to be For love to 'cause such misery 

Oh misery! Oh misery! Tell me why does my heart make a fool of me Seems it's my destiny For love to 'cause me misery 

And, oh! I've been down this road before With a passion that turns into pain And each time I saw love walk out the door I swore never get caught up again 

But ain't it true? It takes what it takes And sometimes we get too smart too late One more heartache for me Another night of misery 

(Pink - ft. Richie Sambora & Steven Tyler)

jealousy,
misery,
pain,

swirled with

compassion,
ecstasy,
joy,
and
addiction,

produce
a
sweet,
poisonous,
lollipop

i can’t stop myself to lick.

Grrr I hate when I’m in such a moodswing. A second of happiness followed by a second of sorrow. And the world seems to be a rotten, gloomy, deserted place.

Maybe it’s hormonal, maybe it’s not, maybe it’s just me.
Oh my, c’est la vie…

To know that you’re happy and enjoying life, while someone else is in misery.
Ok, I have to be honest: it’s not really painful actually.
It’s more about guilt.

Life with its twists and turns,
surprises, happiness and sadness…

Ironic, at times.
Bittersweet, most of the times.