Homogenic Independence Day

The sky was unwelcomingly cloudy. I felt such an immense desire just to be idle and simply do nothing that morning. And as if the dark clouds had moved into my bedroom, suddenly my phone rang. It was from Tornado, a colleague of mine. Drowned in his own panic attack, he blurted: “Dude, from now on you better take care of your movements. They’re now getting suspicious about your homosexuality!” With that news the lightning struck clamoring any loose objects and my windowpanes. The rain then poured harder and all we could do were just to sit tight and welcome the torrential storm on that unglamorous Tuesday.

Genesis
The story began on that fateful Friday, our independence-day holiday. I was about to meet a friend who would introduce me to an artist for an exhibition in our premises. Blah (my friend) came with Sashimi, a female friend of ours, along with Imogen and her husband Peso.

Apparently as the painter couldn’t come with them, Imogen, the painter’s cousin showed me a catalog of the paintings. The colors were intense -if not rather angry- in their moods. The intensities were amazingly brilliant, I really wanted the public to grab these astonishing feelings as well as I did. Therefore, it was decided that it was okay for us to have his solo-show there.

Not too long after that, blame my over-friendly state of being, I got to know the fact -in a small world that we are living in- that this Imogen person actually are somewhat related to Hibiscus, the girlfriend of my abovementioned colleague, Tornado.

So, just wait. You knew it was coming didn’t you? The storm was definitely brewing straight to my direction.

Out of the Blue
Came Monday, it was rather sweet and the sun was shining nicely, if not a bit scorching for a 10 AM. I guessed not long after that, Imogen called Hibiscus on the phone and imperturbably mentioned something in the line of: “Hey I didn’t know that you are a friend of Prof. Utonium (-me, the writer-)? I got to meet him on Friday, and he was with a friend of mine whom I know so well. And guess what? He is gay!! So so… (in gossip-mode: ON) do you think… err… the Professor could also be… gay?”

So as any regular muggleborn would, the news shocked Hibiscus to the core. She then relayed the news to her boyfriend, Tornado.

Hence the frantic call on the next thunder-pounding morning.

Curiosity Kills the Cat
Why was this news became a great shock to them? For Hibiscus and her entire family. I was actually cool about it. The only regret was just, that I was infinitely annoyed that Imogen had against my will sent my panicky colleague, Tornado to even a higher level of terrifying delirium.

My family, close friends, and close-related colleagues at work already understood about my so-called little “secret”. So what was this chaotic insanity all about then? I was so demure about it until later in the evening, when someone else actually gave me a harassing call: “So, ehm Professor, who then was with you when you met Imogen last Friday, I wonder?” (Lavishly spoken along the style that I could reply with– “I don’t like your tone there Missy!!”)

My reply was court and simple,
“Oh I asked Blah, a good friend of mine to arrange a meeting at my place so we could exhibit the paintings of Imogen’s cousin. Why?”

She didn’t reply much.

Agitated
Annoyed to the hilt, sms-ed Hibiscus then I did:
“Darling how are you? Wheww the gossip on me today was insane no? Oh wow, so I guess you guys had never met or known any gay/ lesbian person personally no? Well, maybe you guys should go out more and know more people out there hehe… Let me kill Imogen for you for spreading ill-news without the consent of the owner, hehe…”

And to make it worse, in the same evening, Tornado seemed to be stricken by an intense migraine (presumably because of this?). I sent him home early.

For a while, Hibiscus seemed to fail in replying the message. The only thing I did was just to calm my nerves and pray (ever-so-again) to God: “Dear Lord, I have no idea how the simple meeting would turn into this ugly mess. I have no idea what tomorrow will look like as the outcome. I have faith in You and I know that You know what’s best for me lah… I thank You again for always being there for me. Amen.”

And three hours later an sms reply came from Hibiscus:

“Oh so sorry Kuya… I didn’t mean to spread rumors or to hurt you in anyway (in which were done already, btw)… Please don’t think about it (you think?) and please do not tell this to anyone, cuz I felt bad already, and I don’t want Imogen to know about this. Sorry again and thank you for understanding”

I replied:
“It’s ok lah, but I just chopped Imogen with the infamous red-axe into seven meaty pieces ready to be boiled in a gravy of chicken broth. Haha…”

Ignoramus
Deliberately I wouldn’t contact Imogen, I didn’t feel the urge to further defend myself against her peculiar inquiry. But however, a question still lingered in my mind: Imogen, how could you be so unaware of things?

You might have lived in Utopia-land for so long, you might have been the lead-vocal of an underground goth-band, you might even be open-minded about things, but there was one thing that you forgot to calculate: The reaction of simple muggleborns like Hibiscus alike.

Next time, thinketh lah, before ye speaketh ya?

There’s nothing to forgive even if I wanted to. You didn’t do anything wrong Imogen, you just slipped and did not realize that you were just being simply-ignorant on an extremely delicate issue that mattered to some people.

Jangan Ganggu Bencong
Somehow I just knew that good things are the only things that the next dawn is bringing. I don’t wanna think about it too much. I got work to do and many many chores to perform. And most of all, right here, right now, I am missing mi Don Guapo so much.

Mahal, dimana kamu?

Got Nailed

I didn’t catch the warnings it was showing me within the last couple of weeks: The heavy drag, the suspiciously higher gas consumptions, and the less than standard agility in which this hatchback shouldn’t have performed. On the surface it seemed to be all nice and dandy. Even flooring the pedal in the Kebun Jeruk – Karawaci tol strip, in which I have to patronize more than I wished for- Captain Righteous (my car) however, was still stable in every way. The grip was doing fine, even slicing through puddles of water were done at ease with no hazardous slip. But reaching 0-100 kmph was extremely slow compared to what Captain Righteous and I had achieved in the past.

So there I was feeling a little queasy after the long haul from Pondok Indah, I decided to make a left turn at an available Shell gas station. It shocked me to find out that the air-pressure in the back-right tire was only 18 psi. Sumthin’ was wrong. But I didn’t know how definitely scary circumstances were.

The next day, before going to work I managed to fit Captain Righteous in a tire workshop to see if anything had gone awry. Apparently, the mechanic said, the maker of the car had put some very nice brand of rubber as Captain Righteous’ footings. “It should’ve been flat like my worn out sneakers seeing what happened here!”

He extracted 6 (yes, six) nails from one tire alone!! The others were ostensibly fine.

Now I remembered.

The Permata Hijau overpass going to Pondok Indah are frequently hit by coward cons posing as nail-spreaders to milk extra cash from unwilling clients for patching their tires- when the going gets though. And this was the exact overpass that I had to go through every single day from home to work.

My stomach churned. I wanted to take my wand out and simply perform an ill-fating excruciation curse to whoeva did spread those rusty nails on public roads for their own gains.

But since I was tortured and forced to read a book by the name of Secrets (by Rhonda Byrne), I now need to have a positive outlook: I pray that these people (can I say dimwit here?), would soon realize that only bad things will come along by harming others. Ouch, for fuck sake, can I just do a stampede charm on them instead?

Back to the workshop then. He asked me whether or not I wanted a new tire replacement. I was like, “Can you just simply fix them instead with some chemical rubber hole-filler and hardener?”

Shall I worry? I mean, with the newly found six tears in the tire, it meant that the same tire had suffered 9 strokes in total (for it had 3 nail attacks prior to this).

Of course, according to the workshop mechanic, everything will be just fine.

Another one of those “This is so Indonesia!” moments.

Hidup tukang tambal ban!
Long live ye rubber patcher!

Touched

Ages ago the last time it seemed that I was being serious with anyone. Being single for so long made me forgot how would it feel to have someone special take-care of you (of course along with dotting friends and family members). All the while I was constantly praying to be given someone who’d appreciate me for who I really am. And then suddenly, the universe above gave me someone that I could call my own and Stevie Wonder seemed to rent his opening act to me. For once in my life I have someone who needs me, someone I've needed so long.

While no one is perfect, he was indeed perfect enough for me. His warm smiles and his cuddly hugs, his attentiveness that was shown towards me, his eagerness to assist me in many occasions, they were all taken into good accounts. We even work in the vicinity of each other; thus dinner dates were frequent, amicable and most of all enjoyable. It was like that all the stars were placed strategically on a perfect alignment to support our means.

But I wonder why, when you prayed so hard and you were given what you’ve prayed for, sometimes, just sometimes, something still appear to be missing. This is what I called the butterfly effect, in which I haven’t felt for him. The spark that ignites the engine. The mill that churns milk into cheese or butter. For others they simply call it the lack of chemistry.

God knows how I wanted to be with this person so bad. Trying all the regular concoctions of togetherness, full undivided focus, attention, and what have you-s. However, why is it that the best result was simply a development of a huge amount of tenderness towards him? Would it be sufficient to support the base of any relationship? For some it might be enough, and for others it wouldn’t? And for me I still do need that spark.

For all I care, I thought that his feelings towards me started as a “just because”. Something like, just because we were single, and then just because I was always there for him in dire times, continued by just because I know, that when he was truly in love with some he would draw a wonderful picture or a great caricature by hand of the person in mind (in which he hadn’t done), and also just because me too, would write something exhilarating about the person I have in mind (in which I haven’t done as well). Were we just a couple of “just because” people trying to make some connection?

Of course, I really hoped that we could go deeper with this. But finally I drew the line: I told him the truth that the spark just wasn’t there from my part. And it hurt me the most to have to convey this message when I knew he needed me more than ever.

Then suddenly an email appeared on my desk. It was a drawing. My face was on it.

And here I am. Touched. Not knowing what else to do.

Therefore I blogged.

Well Bunny, sorry for everything. Thanks for everything.