Home life
It hasn’t been a week since New Year but I already have two difficult questions that trouble my mind. Where the hell is that goddamn plane? Last year we spent at least 2 billion IDR on our national defense budget, but we still can’t have a radar that works? WTF?
Yes, the "WTF" above is my second question. See, it has a question mark, which indicates that the three-letter abbreviation is indeed, a question.
Here’s a news from the home front. My morally correct uncle spent Christmas with us in Adelaide. Although we were only together for a short span of time (as he later went to Brisbane to celebrate new year), we did have some long conversation.
As I had predicted earlier, he tried to convince me that it’s wrong for me to share quarters with my gal while we’re not married. The conversation got nowhere as the same points were being repeated, only with different words. He made his point but I don’t think I should listen to it. We’re in love. We’re both of consenting age. We both have a job and we pay for the rent ourselves.
Seeing that we couldn’t reach an agreement, my uncle then asked me, "So this girl, what is she like?"
Now isn’t this strange that the last thing you want to know about a person is THE person itself? Back home, we have the concept of bibit-bebet-bobot. My uncle wasn’t born into a feudal society, but I have every reason to belief that he (and most people of his generation) has got himself so dragged into this outlandish mindset.
What’s her ethnicity? (For him ethnicity comes before nationality). What kind of church does she attend? Is she one of those Pentecostals? Where does her parents work? How much do they earn? How much does she earn? What’s her political alignment?
I have no interest for these external things. Let’s just say I have reached the limits of where trivial facts can lead me. After all, it’s neither her conviction nor her size that got me into her in the first place. Except for eyes, maybe. Now those are killers.
What a girl is like stems from her character. And here’s where I find something interesting about her.
I have come to realize that in spite of all the differences in terms of outward appearance, there are only two kinds of girls in this world. The first kind is girls that will make guys do destructive things, such as waging war at impossible odds, inciting a rebellion when the economy is perfectly balanced and building 1000 candi overnight.
Throughout history we have met so many women from this particular group. Queen Jezebel, Helen of Troy, Dayang Sumbi, Ken Dedes, Elizabeth Taylor, my old high school crush (who successfully turned me into a suicidal right-back) and that redhead slut whose identity I prefer not to disclose.
But on the other hand, we have girls that make guys feel…umm…domesticated. My girl falls into this category.
What is she like? She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to stay indoors although the Mancunian Derby is on, and everyone knows I should be chanting gibberish and winning 15 dollars at Rydell’s Tavern.
She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to spend all Sunday making cornbread. She’s the kind of girl that enables me to endure a 3 hours Veronica Mars marathon on DVD. She’s the kind of girl that helps me re-appreciate the value of spending two consecutive hours at Snakes and Ladders. She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to just sit in the couch with her, looking at old albums from the 90s, even though everyone agrees that those times could be better spent somewhere else.
I should’ve been at work. I should’ve taken extra classes to improve my grades. I should’ve gone to Rydell’s and win some easy money. I should’ve written boring letters to my folks. But instead of doing those, I spend most of my time watching rented movies with my baby. I didn’t get all my chores done but there’s never been a single second of regret in my life. My time with her is pretty much well wasted.
That’s what she is like.
Yes, the "WTF" above is my second question. See, it has a question mark, which indicates that the three-letter abbreviation is indeed, a question.
Here’s a news from the home front. My morally correct uncle spent Christmas with us in Adelaide. Although we were only together for a short span of time (as he later went to Brisbane to celebrate new year), we did have some long conversation.
As I had predicted earlier, he tried to convince me that it’s wrong for me to share quarters with my gal while we’re not married. The conversation got nowhere as the same points were being repeated, only with different words. He made his point but I don’t think I should listen to it. We’re in love. We’re both of consenting age. We both have a job and we pay for the rent ourselves.
Seeing that we couldn’t reach an agreement, my uncle then asked me, "So this girl, what is she like?"
Now isn’t this strange that the last thing you want to know about a person is THE person itself? Back home, we have the concept of bibit-bebet-bobot. My uncle wasn’t born into a feudal society, but I have every reason to belief that he (and most people of his generation) has got himself so dragged into this outlandish mindset.
What’s her ethnicity? (For him ethnicity comes before nationality). What kind of church does she attend? Is she one of those Pentecostals? Where does her parents work? How much do they earn? How much does she earn? What’s her political alignment?
I have no interest for these external things. Let’s just say I have reached the limits of where trivial facts can lead me. After all, it’s neither her conviction nor her size that got me into her in the first place. Except for eyes, maybe. Now those are killers.
What a girl is like stems from her character. And here’s where I find something interesting about her.
I have come to realize that in spite of all the differences in terms of outward appearance, there are only two kinds of girls in this world. The first kind is girls that will make guys do destructive things, such as waging war at impossible odds, inciting a rebellion when the economy is perfectly balanced and building 1000 candi overnight.
Throughout history we have met so many women from this particular group. Queen Jezebel, Helen of Troy, Dayang Sumbi, Ken Dedes, Elizabeth Taylor, my old high school crush (who successfully turned me into a suicidal right-back) and that redhead slut whose identity I prefer not to disclose.
But on the other hand, we have girls that make guys feel…umm…domesticated. My girl falls into this category.
What is she like? She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to stay indoors although the Mancunian Derby is on, and everyone knows I should be chanting gibberish and winning 15 dollars at Rydell’s Tavern.
She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to spend all Sunday making cornbread. She’s the kind of girl that enables me to endure a 3 hours Veronica Mars marathon on DVD. She’s the kind of girl that helps me re-appreciate the value of spending two consecutive hours at Snakes and Ladders. She’s the kind of girl that makes me want to just sit in the couch with her, looking at old albums from the 90s, even though everyone agrees that those times could be better spent somewhere else.
I should’ve been at work. I should’ve taken extra classes to improve my grades. I should’ve gone to Rydell’s and win some easy money. I should’ve written boring letters to my folks. But instead of doing those, I spend most of my time watching rented movies with my baby. I didn’t get all my chores done but there’s never been a single second of regret in my life. My time with her is pretty much well wasted.
That’s what she is like.
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