Fervor really shakes and affects us but lack clear definitions, like cluster of nebula in the distant sky. Soekarno was fervor. He could produce elegant concepts but no formulas. He was a person who full of ideas yet he left us no programs to do. It’s not surprising thirty eight years after his death, there are hundreds of people who look up to him in admiration. In the same time, only small amount of people know and grasp political, social and economic ideas he left behind. Soekarno was not Marx or Lenin. He wasn’t the one to forge new ideology. Soekarnoism? It can impress us just as the nebula in the distant sky, the further away it is the more it impresses.
For there are times when people live a passion of glory, a passion of wealth.Soekarno came from the time when a passion of glory was seen to be more important than the ambition for wealth. The fervor Soekarno had in his heart seemed to come from the Wayang stories about a group of people named Ksatrya who were prepared to die to fulfill some vows, just like King Arthur’s knights. These Ksatrya were basically from a privileged class. They were accustomed to a life guaranteed financially through the blessing of taxes and hard work of merchants and farmers. They can impress and move anyone they want. Moreover who doesn’t admire a legendary figure who seems no need of money? Even now we impresses by someone like James Bond. It would be a shock if in one of the scenes Bond run out of money, wouldn’t it?
In Soekarno time, Indonesia still had the ideals of Ksatrya who owns no credit card, Jaguar and Hugo Boss aftershave. Indonesia still felt as an aim, a reason to fight, a cause. Now, since time changes we feel that we have lost something. But, what to do? This current time is no longer in its infancy. Instead of glory, people now are busy looking for wealth. Indonesia became a place with ambitions and anxiety. We no longer have the fervor from the past.
The fate of fervor, something that is beautiful, is unforgettable but no longer able to move us.
Leaders; they don’t always emerge through upheavals of history like we had in 1965 and 1998. A great number of the world’s leaders in late 21st century didn’t emerge through a situation of crisis. They rose to their positions of where chosen in atmosphere of normality, even blandness – without revolution, coup or drama.
Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with gorgeous redhead. (Lucille Ball, actress)
Few months back, life has made me hectic and felt about as bright and luminous as a broken light bulb. Other people, faced with times of crisis, enlist the help of a life coach, seek solace in religion or go backpacking across Bali or somewhere else. My coping mechanism is to visit the hairdresser.
Undergoing other life changes, I’d been brunette, bobbed, fringed and premed, but during my recent slough of despond I’d been yearning to turn myself red. The combination of being frustated and seeing fabulous elegant redhead Julianne Moore staring out from high profile ad campaigns spurred me into action. I was hoping that some of Julianne’s glamour might be magically transferred to me if we shared a hair color.
Well.. at first I felt completely different as a redhead –- more glamorous and individual. The following day brought further compliments. My hair was much vibrant in daylight and I was greatly cheered to be given the eye just going to the shop.
But, pulling off being a redhead isn’t just about getting used to a new hair color –- it’s about the whole look. As a black-hair, for example, I wore a lot of bright colors – which no-go areas for redheads. I was looking forward to mixing things up a bit. I’d been inspired by a glossy magazine cover featuring a model in red taffeta and tartan, and thought I could similarly break the rules. I tried on my bright red pea clothes and the result was.. terrifying! Note to self: the cover girl is a schoolgirl supermodel. I’m not! I even found myself buying earrings set in a goldish metal – something I would never have tried in darker-haired days.
Another silly thing about redhead I found few weeks later — that completely changed my perception – was my eyebrows were still quite dark! This ‘don’t match’ I should realized at the first place. Redhead brows are rarely as copper as their hair, and I have to deal with them using a grey ash pencil.. which make my face more horrible.
So, now I’m dyed back in black.
En route to Jakarta some weeks ago, the woman seated next to me on the plane struck up a conversation and our chat turned to the seven deadly sins. She asked me what mine was. Hers was vanity, she was quick to share. “Without a doubt” she declared “I will do anything to preserve my looks”
I looked over her. Blessed with fine features and willowy yet voluptuous figure, she was breathtakingly pretty – the sort of woman men want, and other women just love to hate. From our conversation, she was also fiercely intelligent, and I was to discover later that she’s a genuinely nice person to boot. Life just isn’t fair sometimes.
But, I completely understood where she was coming from. A bout of chickenpox some years before shocked me into realizing just how vain I truly am. Really, there’s nothing like a conflagration of angry red welts on your face and body to make you want to rush out and buy the world’s stock of miracle creams, just in case.
Of course I am vain. I daresay we all are. Vanity bonds women in our quest for the best shade of lipstick or the most powerful anti-ageing product, and sometimes messes up beyond belief along the way. The woman I met on the plane has since had a nip here, a tuck there on a regular basis. She’s still fabulously pretty, but in the preternaturally ageless way reminiscent of Hollywood celebrities who have tweaked their looks judiciously over the years –- you know who they are.
When do you cross the line from everyday vanity (in which you want to look your best in a certain amount of time) to a delusional quest for perfection (to stave off the inevitable march of time)?
I’m not sure I will willingly go under the knife to improve my looks. Even the thought of it makes my toes curl. Ultimately, beauty is in the eye of the beholder yet sometimes it doesn’t hurt to cut yourself some slack, let yourself go just a little bit.
My deadly sin? Sloth
During your lifetime, you’ll make, on average, nearly 400 friends. At any one time, you’ll have a circle of about 30 friends, with six of those considered close – that’s what I found in a survey by MSN Messenger.
Right! My friend, Karin, is a pain. She borrows my CDs and never return them – or, if I’m lucky, return them three years later. When we get a taxi or lunch, I always pay because she’s forgotten to visit the cashpoint –- that’s on the days when she hasn’t left her bag at home and begged me to travel back across town with her to collect it. She harangues passing strangers, she often falls down stairs and walks into glass doors, leaving me to make peace or call the ambulance. When I introduce her to a male friend, she’ll stand too close when talking to them, start fierce and pointless arguments and then later complain that I should be more help in finding her a boyfriend.
You may ask, why do I bother? Believe me. It’s a question I’ve asked myself a lot. If a boyfriend behaved like that, he’d have been dumped many years ago. If she’s a member of my family, I’d have had it out with her by now. But friendship is a funny old game. Unlike our families, we choose our mates – and they choose us. Relationship with partner, family, or neighbour is clearly defined. With friends, nothing is so straightforward.; everyone has different ideas of what friendship should mean. I tend to see that a tight friendship pack is seen as desirable and glamorous – look no further than those favorite TV shows Sex and the City, Desperate Housewives and – but of course!—Friends.
So, is it acceptable to dump a friend? I’ve been a friend who gets dumped and I still couldn’t rationalize that. It was strangely painful; Mendya and I had been close at university but our friendship entirely changed course once she moved down to Jakarta after our graduation. She nabbed herself a glamorous job in TV and began moving in entirely different circles –- circles that never seemed to include me. She gradually dumped me. She’d forgotten to return my calls or emails. She forgotten my birthday for the first time in many years. The intervals between contact grew larger and after several months of radio silence, I eventually realized the blindingly obvious; I had simply ceased to be of any use to her. I stopped pursuing Mendya – and never heard from her again.
Well..I guess, I have to manage my expectations. Accept that not every friend will define friendship in the same way I do. While I’d be hugely disappointed if Mendya wasn’t there for me in a time of crisis, I should never have expected too much of Karin – our friendship is based primarily on riotous days out, nothing more, nothing less. Friendship is an impossibly complex web – which can be hellish to untangle at time, but ultimately, I don’t want to be Astrid No-Mates..that’s pathetic!
