Lonely.

Loneliness always sneaks up on me. It's very stealthy. I would be fine and happy bbqing with my friends and Ryan, and three hours later, I would be feeling melancholic and lonely and awful. Okay, maybe I am not being very honest. Loneliness is not as stealthy as I give it credit for. My mind has usually ventured to some unchartered territories which I can't really tell anybody, not even Ryan... Is that bad?

There are moments where I feel empty, so empty that it engulfs me. Am I doing enough? Enough of what? Has is been meaningful? What has been meaningful? And why am I feeling all these? What's going on? Argh.

Is my mood swing clinical? Is it normal? Do I need to see somebody? I don't like the idea of seeing a shrink. I miss my family. I miss them so much.

Professionalism.

A few weeks back, my office phone rang. It's one of my client's assistant.
Her name is Stupid Bitch.

This is Caroline. I picked up the phone. Hi Caroline, this is Stupid Bitch. Caroline… How long have you been working? She asked.
Huh? Uhm. Awhile. I answered.

Well, I don't think you are very professional. I was re-reading your email and I feel very offended by your sentence, 'All ads must be approved by end of today or they will run as is.' You should give your client breathing room. She continued.

I am sorry, I didn't mean to be offensive. I am just trying to meet my deadline. I replied. And I have given you three weeks of breathing room, bitch, and you have not been responsive. I wished to finish.

And I think you're lazy. Stupid Bitch said again.

WT*%^@F?

You don't seem to want to do your job. We wanted you to photoshop the jacket, but you don't seem to want to do it.

I did photoshop the jacket as much as I can. But I still want to ensure the photo looking natural. And I can't really photoshop the jacket closed and buttoned up. He wore it unbuttoned during the photo shoot.

Well, I think you're not very professional.

CLICK.

OMFG. What just happened?

Two hours passed and my art director came to my table. Guess who called? Lisa said. I pondered if I really wanted to know. Who. I asked nevertheless. Crazy Dentist. She replied. Guess what we talked about. She asked again, with a smirk this time. Ugh. I really didn't want to know. What. I asked in spite of everything

He didn't know it's going to be a full body shot. She explained. Or else… She hung her sentence. Or else he would have brought socks to stuff his package. You know… his package.

WHAT?!?!??! WHAT?!?!?!??! WHAT?!?!??!?!?

He's really concerned about how his crotch looks. He asked me if his crotch looks fine. He wanted us to photoshop his crotch.

WHAT?!?!??!?!

And this is coming from somebody whose assistant had called me and gone on and on a diatribe about my unprofessionalism. OMFG.


Epilogue The dentist didn't even have a nice set of teeth. They were a little too crooked for a dentist. And now, they're also kinda yellow in our magazine (wink). I still had to photoshop his crotch. But I also distorted him 15 percent horizontally.

Time…

A few days ago, my sister told me she found our childhood friends/neighbors online. He is in a band. She is a fashion designer. Vero said. Wow. I haven't met them for more than 12 years. Vero and the older son are the same age, and the daughter and I are the same age. We lived two houses apart. The four of us can be found together almost at all time at either one of our houses (frankly, I preferred theirs—the grass is always greener on the other side). Vero added them as friends on Friendster. I sent them a message. Vero said. Do you think they will still remember? I asked. I dunno. She replied.

The next day, Vero informed me they have accepted her friend requests. They did not recognize her name—they only know her childhood one—but they do recognize her face.

Will they remember me? I asked Vero. Yes. She asked about you. Vero told me. I was happy to hear that. Nothing would hurt me more than being forgotten. Then I logged in to my account, and sent friend requests and messages for both of them.

This sequence of events has made me think about the past a lot, about Jakarta, and how much I miss Jakarta. It has been five years since I last went back. It has also made time very tangible to me. Twelve years have gone by—we used to play galaxin and now we are all professionals. I am getting old. Sigh.

Last night, at wee hours in the morning attacked by insomnia, I was in front of my computer, logged in to my Facebook account, looking at many of my friends', and their friends' and their friends' friends' pages (hey… six degree of separation, somebody I know and want to keep in touch with might be on one of these pages). Sure enough.

I saw his name. It was strange. The mere sight of his name brought a lot of memories. Good ones. Bad ones. I don't really know actually. I had a ginormous crush on him. My heart beat really hard every time he was around. Stupid things came out from my mouth every time he was around. My klutziness intensified every time he was around. It was that big of a crush. He's really funny, sweet, smart and had this on and off thing with his girlfriend. Ugh. What was I thinking?

It's been seven years. Part of me want to say hello to him, ask him what he's up to, and tell him what I am up to… So that he knows I am not a little girl anymore. No longer the young and foolish and naive little kid he used to know. I have grown up as an adult. But for what? Part of me just want to keep on online-stalking him. LOL. Without him knowing, of course. That's what stalking supposed to be right? Sigh.

Again, last night, I felt how tangible time is—looking at how I have progressed (or regressed) over the span of time—really remembering every waking moment between then and now.