"Shopping Bag" Theory

It was just after a cozy afternoon latte when I walked to my car carrying my laptop bag, when my very good friend (who walked me to the car and would soon be my dinner companion) apologized, "Sorry for not offering to carry your bag for you... it's just that your laptop bag looks so girly... it just wouldn't feel right if I carry that... you know!" 

This is interesting.

First, let me clarify one thing: my laptop bag is NOT girly. It's dark brown with olive green inner lining, yes, but you can't even see the green lining if it's zipped closed. And it's not even "girly green". There's absolutely no sign of girliness in the sense of pink, colorful pattern, ribbon, flower, lace or bling.

Second, and this is the most intriguing part: 1) would a guy refuse to carry something for a woman if the object is considered too "girly"?; 2) why? Is it because such a thing would diminish his masculinity, or is there another reason?

I asked the guy, of course. In the spirit of satisfying my curiosity. Lots of questions, actually. 

Q: "So... how about carrying shopping bags for your wife at the shopping mall?"

A: "Well, I am NOT going to carry a light shopping bag."

Q: "Does it matter if the shopping bag is emblazoned with Metro, Sogo, or other store's logo?"

A: "Not really... as long as the shopping bag is heavy."

Q: "Do you only carry shopping bag with "masculine" logo on it? Like... say, Ace Hardware? So people would think, 'Hey, he is a do-it-yourself guy, man of the house'...?"

A: "Doesn't matter. It's not important for me to be considered such a guy. I only carry the bag if it's heavy."

Q: "So if the bag(s) are not heavy, you would let the woman (your wife) carry them herself?"

A: "Absolutely."

Q: "Why?"

A: "As a man, I'm only obliged to interfere when and only when the bag(s) are heavy."

Q: "How about other acts of chivalry, like opening the (car) door for women?"

A: "I only open the (car) door for very old women, or for heavily pregnant women. My mom, for example, is still very healthy and swift, so I don't open the door for her. I simply let her do it herself. On the other hand, I did it when my wife was pregnant."

Q: "How about other division of tasks between man and woman (husband and wife)... what would you do, what would you never do?"

A: "I don't mind carrying the baby with a kangaroo-carrier strapped up front, I don't mind pushing my other kid's stroller around a shopping mall... but I let my wife do all the grocery shopping, including handling all the shopping bags. Again, I would only interfere when she can't handle it herself. The kids? I would happily care for them in the mean time!"

So, it can be concluded that "girly" is not the real issue here. He doesn't offer to carry my laptop bag because it's not too heavy for me, and I could still handle it myself. Correct me if I'm wrong, N.

SHOPPING BAG THEORY on male categorization

Based on their attitude toward "carrying shopping bags", men can be divided into 2 groups:

1) Knights in Shining Armor

These guys would open doors and  carry shopping bags for women (including laptop bags, for sure), walk on incoming-traffic side when crossing the road with women. They might do it for 2 different reasons, though: 

... because they believe in chivalry and they want to be gentlemen (A-type), OR 

... because they think women are the weaker of the species and thus need all those help and protection (B-type)

The difference can be seen when these guys are faced with the issue of childcare: the A-type guys would be happy to play nanny, even if it's only for the sake of image ("Oooh what a great father that guy is...") while the B-type guys would leave all childcare and babysitting to the women (because that's what women are supposed to do, that's not a guy's business, and they would look less masculine when carrying a baby or chasing a toddler around).

2) Sensible-Practical Guys

These guys are basing their action on sensibility and practicality. would open doors for women when necessary, carry shopping bags for women only when the women cannot handle it by themselves, be protective when the situation calls for it. Because they believe women are their peers. Women are equal to men, and thus can handle things by themselves, and protect themselves as well. 

Childcare? No problem. If it's more sensible for the women to do grocery shopping, these guys would happily be the nanny in the mean time. If the situation calls for the opposite (dad doing shopping, mom babysitting) then let's do it. Whatever makes sense. Masculinity is not an issue. A man can care for his children and still be masculine, whatever "masculine" means.

My friend falls into the "Sensible-Practical Guys" category, I think. 

As for me, you know I have double standard in this kind of thing. Just like that "special parking space for women" issue. I can carry my own (laptop) bag, no problem at all. But if a guy offers to carry it for me, I don't mind either. As for shopping bags: I would appreciate if a guy helps me carry heavy ones. However, if it was a carrier bag from Tiffany or Louis Vuitton, I don't mind carrying it myself regardless of the size or weight *wink wink* 

I'm still curious about one thing, though. And I wouldn't be able to sleep well until I get a satisfactory answer to this: WHY on earth do you think my laptop bag looks girly? Yes, I'm asking YOU. Just call or text me the answer. Thanks ;)

The (Secret) Life of Plant

Visiting Starbucks @ Oakwood. Having my usual hazelnut latte. Chatting with my friend. Going to the toilet. Doing my stuff. Gazing absentmindedly at the lone orchid plant at the corner, right in front of the toilet bowl. Leaving the toilet. Going back to my table.

Did just that on several visits there. Never gave that plant a second thought. But one time, as I gazed at the plant, I thought, "Imagine life as THIS plant over here..." Is it a real plant to begin with? I touched its leaf, and its flower. Its smooth velvety purple petals. It's real. A real, living plant. Growing silently there in a pot, at the corner of a Starbucks toilet, right in front of the toilet bowl. Watching toilet-visitors' face day in day out. Observing their various behaviors. Smelling the various toilet smells. Hearing the various toilet sounds. What kind of a life would that be? 

I just can't take my mind off that solitary orchid.

I try to imagine what the orchid might possibly be thinking.

"Ooh, here comes another guy who can't aim his device properly... splashing all over the floor and stinking the whole place. I wonder what they teach these male humans about point-and-shoot skills? And I'm not talking Sony CyberShot here!"

"Oops. This one's had bad milk, seems like. He seems to be in pain. There he goes again. Yuck. This one stinks big time. Oh my."

"Why is this girl talking on her phone, here? Is she escaping someone? What is she talking about? Ooh... that's her boyfriend on the line. I bet she hangs out here with her other boyfriend... jeez, I wish I could speak! Hey, big guy! Listen here! Your girlfriend's cheating! She's not here with Nina and Trisha! She's here with another guy! Helloooo. You lovestruck fool, you..."

"Boy poops and fails to wash hands afterwards. Must notify Mom. Dirty little brat. Oooh, don't you dare touch my leaves! Shoo. Shoo. No no nooo, DON'T TOUCH ME! Aaargh!"

"Ooh... hot chick. Look at those delicious legs. No. Wait... why is she standing there facing the toilet bowl? What's she doing... whoooaa... is that a cock?!! Damn... she's a GUY!!!"

If only the plant gets interviewed, I'm sure its insights would prove to be as intriguing as Sigmund Freud's.

An In-Flight Observation

Just got back from Surabaya. Flying Garuda Indonesia, as usual... but was so annoyed on the Jakarta-Surabaya flight because I couldn't find a space on the overhead compartment for my small luggage: every inch was packed with other people's stuff! How is that possible? Aren't the compartments supposed to provide enough space for everyone? This has never happened to me before... not in domestic flight, not in international flight. What happened? I decided to settle down and observe my surroundings (after a flight attendant found a space for my luggage in business class). 

I've been on so many flights and have taken lots of things for granted. Once I start to observe people's behavior, I realized some things. And I'm sure you would find (at least some of) them rather familiar. Here goes:

1) Overhead compartments are jam-packed and people who board the plane last would have absolutely no space to put their stuff (as happened to me). The reason? Just look at one lady who brings on board: one medium-sized luggage (definitely not cabin-sized), one sportsbag, one box of local snacks and crackers, and another plastic bag of God-knows-what. She packs everything into a compartment, and of course her stuff fills in the whole damn space. How about the passengers next to her? They put their stuff in the next compartment, thus using up yet another passenger's space. Repeat the process 22x2 times (in a Boeing 737), and voila! not enough space for everyone. 

2) Stinky stuff in the cabin. Try this on a flight from Palembang. You know pempek, the sinfully yummy and not-so-healthy fish cakes from the city? The fish cakes on their own are fine, but there's this black spicy sauce that goes with them, and it's made of spices and garlic and vinegar, and it STINKS. No matter how good you wrap it in plastic, the stink would persist. People would bring boxes of pempek into the cabin, and by the time the airplane is taxiing on the tarmac, the stink would gloriously fill the air. Try breathing that air for the whole 1,5 hours flight. I did. I survived. But I can't imagine how people could be so ignorant of their fellow passengers' sense of smell, sanity and well-being. I did bring a box of pempek myself, but I checked it in. Since I'm sure there's no living being in the cargo area, I can be sure that I'm not torturing anyone with that dangerous biohazard that is pempek.

3) In-flight mobile phone galore! Numerous newspaper articles, online forums, and chain emails have covered this issue extensively. And given Indonesia's less-than-excellent airline reputation, people should've known better. But I see it all the time: 

• people chattering into their mobile phones well until the plane is taxiing before take-off, saying (loudly so the whole cabin could hear), "YES! YES! I'M BOARDING THE PLANE NOW! HUH? YES, I'M IN THE AIRPLANE!!! PICK ME UP AT [city/airport name] IN ONE HOUR, YES?!!! OK!!! I HAVE TO SWITCH OFF MY PHONE NOW!!! [duh] BYE!!!"
  
• people keeping their mobile on while in flight (a friend of mine experienced this recently, she heard a familiar ring from a passenger behind her, 45 minutes into a Jakarta-Surabaya flight, at night, in stormy weather... she freaked out, of course, and screamed at the mobile phone owner)
  
• people switching their mobile back on right after touchdown at destination... isn't it like music to your ear, when you hear that familiar Nokia startup tune at landing, when the airplane hasn't even slowed down? This time you would hear them scream, "HELLO?!! HELLO?!! I JUST LANDED IN [city/airport name]!!! YES!!! PICK ME UP AT THE FRONT, WILL YOU?!!! YES YES... SEE YOU SOON!! HUH? HELLO?!! HELLO?!!" ... at times like this, I wish there was some kind of alien presence (like Klaatu/Gort) that could send hypnotic/telekinetic electricity/electromagnetic pulse to these ignorant passengers through their mobile phones, that would stun and incapacitate them on the spot... *sigh* me and my overimaginative mind. 

Black Cat

You believe in myths and superstitions? You don't walk under ladders? You're freaked out when a black cat walks in front of you? You carry a rabbit's tail with you? (poor, poor rabbit) You knock on wood? 

Well, I was walking out of that new bookstore in Kemang Village, when a sleek, shiny black cat saw me and cowered and took a step back. As I walked past it, we just stared at each other. It's got beautiful eyes. Flashing greenish-yellow eyes. And the fur! It's so sleek and black and shiny it's like liquid ink. I was still thinking of how beautiful the creature was, when I started the car. I even drove the car further back, just to check whether the cat was real (you never know!). It was. The cat was walking stealthily under a row of standing poster displays... its black coat reflecting the building's light. 

If "a black cat walking in front of you" means bad luck, what does "a black cat cowering and taking a step back upon seeing you" mean? I do hope it means good luck. 

Meow.

Girls Rule!

Heard it on the radio this morning: "Women are always demanding equality, they talk about their dignity... but when it comes to parking space in Jakarta, there's a special section dedicated for 'women drivers'... and there will be women-only cars on trains, and women-only TransJakarta buses. Do they really want to be treated as equals, or do they want to be treated differently because they're women?!!" 

Talking about gender-based discrimination? Of course! "Positive discrimination", I call it. Because we women are benefited from it :))

How about me? Well. I think a dedicated, women-only train cars or buses are a bit much, but I can say a thing or two about the parking space issue.

See, I drive a manual-transmission car in Jakarta's excruciating traffic. What I want to do as soon as I enter the parking basement of a mall/office building is to park my car, as close as possible to the entrance/elevator/escalator bay. If I could get THAT coveted parking spot because I'm a WOMAN, so be it. If I don't, I just look elsewhere for a vacant spot. No big deal.

Besides, only several major malls (and a few office buildings, as far as I know) have dedicated parking area for women. At most places, we women have to fight and curse our way to find a spot, just like everyone else. So what are these guys complaining about? Take it like a man, man!

After all, we women drivers deserve it. We are brave enough to roam the deadly streets of Jakarta; we are tough enough to survive the drive from home to our destination without losing our minds; we stand up for ourselves; we give stupid, reckless drivers/riders THE finger when the situation calls for it; we don't whine and ask men to drive us, we just take matters into our own hands and DRIVE. How "emancipated" is that?

But don't men do the same things as drivers? Well, of course they do. But I'm a WOMAN. So I have this double-standard. So sue me.

 

Ugly is the New Pretty...

My daughter's been nagging about Uglydolls. I checked them out. And oh, they're really ugly... they're made of felt. Some wedge-shaped. Some one-eyed. Some bucktoothed, some has fangs. All ugly. Forget Forever Friends, forget Strawberry Shortcake, forget Hello Kitty, forget Snoopy, forget Garfield. Forever Friends et al. are cute in a conservative way. Old-fashioned cute, where "cute" is associated with a white kitten wearing red ribbon on the ear, or a pretty girl wearing strawberry costume, or a fluffy cuddly teddy bear with pink cheeks, or even a fat lazy cat who loves lasagna. How about Uglydolls, then? They're just ugly. Plain ugly.

And I start to love them. I couldn't understand it at first, but they kind of grow on me, and I end up wanting them. Seriously. And my daughter couldn't be happier when I bought her her first Uglydoll. It's Wage. A black creature with sharp fangs, wearing a denim apron. Now Wage is officially a family member. I will find him on my pillow, or next to my iBook, or near my handbag. Or in the car. He's everywhere. 

Now. A good friend of mine is buying my daughter another Uglydoll. It's Babo this time. I can see it coming. More Uglydolls invading my home. In various colors and sizes. The next one would be Bop N'Beep (the two-sided ugly), I suspect. Because I love the color, and the schizophrenic idea of having a two-sided Uglydoll. Imagine THAT. I will be arguing with my daughter over WHICH Uglydoll to buy this time. One of us should grow up a.s.a.p, and I suspect that should've been ME.

I still think Uglydolls are ugly. In a cute, irresistible way. And I love them for it.

  

On Positioning: the Case of fX

The case today is fX (Lifestyle X'nter), the newest, hippest place in Jakarta. In an article in The Jakarta Post, the Marketing Director claims that, "fX is not a shopping center. We target young executive professionals from 25 to 45 for both business and leisure." Okayyyyyy... 

First thing first: what would a "shopping center" in Jakarta be like? Depending on time of the week, it could be teeming with: a) teenagers in noisy groups, dressed similarly you could barely distinguish one kid from another; b) housewives (just as noisy, and dressed to kill, toting the mandatory Birkin or Neverfull bag); c) the whole family, from grandparents to (great)grandchildren. Note the profusion of strollers and the compulsory uniformed nannies on weekends. Sometimes the father would play the overly-involved and all-smothering paterfamilia (because he's unavailable Monday-Saturday, so he crams 6-days-worth of fathering and husbanding into a 6-hours-stroll at the shopping mall). 

Now: what would "not a shopping center", like fX, be like? According to the Marketing Manager, at least? Flocks of corporate executives having lunch... people entertaining their clients... entrepreneurs holding meetings and presentation sessions in one of the various fPods (that's how they call the 11 meeting rooms)... dinners and drinks celebrating the closing of a deal... a long night at the club (and more than a few shots of tequila) to console oneself after a failed deal... stressed-out workers having the 12-second adrenaline rush on the giant slide (aptly called "Almostfear"... because now matter how scary the ride is, it's nothing compared to the "Realfear" you face when you have to report that failed deal to your angry boss, or a potential partner bailing out because you screwed up the negotiation, or a million-dollar investment going down the drain due to mismanagement, or a lawsuit due to financial fraud, or the risk of being fired because a coworker backstabbed you during that last project). I'm ranting here. Sorry... and office workers meeting their highschool or college friends for drinks after work, while waiting for the traffic jam to subside.

And finally (drumroll, please): an actual visit fo fX. Please note that this is on a weekend on the third week of August 2008, and fX has just been opened for less than a month. What do I see there?

• thirtysomething to fortysomething men (probably fX's target market, thus) bringing their spouses and offsprings on a weekend (probably because they have visited the place with co-workers before, liked the place and would love their family to experience it as well);
  
• teenagers attracted by the newness and hipness of the place (and the giant slide factor!);
• the usual mall crowd (marked by the abundance of strollers and nannies), not caring about fX positioning. To them, a mall is a mall is a mall is a mall.
• a long, snaking line of people queueing to try the giant slide... ranging from elderly ladies (what?!!) to young kids (who aren't supposed to be allowed to do it in the first place, I wonder what the age and height limits are). This says a lot about the socio-economic level of fX visitors, because one ride costs IDR 100,000 (roughly USD 10) and that ain't cheap.

So, what does it say about the fate of fX in the (near) future? Jakarta is the ADD Capital of Southeast Asia, remember... so I really AM curious about this. Let's see... fX might be:

a) completely deserted. Because it's only a passing fad, made "hip and happening" by initial curiosity and the giant slide factor.

b) deserted by the early curious visitors and frequented by the intended target market. The Marketing Director screams, "Yay!" and pumps his/her fist in the air.

c) inhabited by the usual mall crowd (thus rendering the segmenting-targeting-positioning completely useless). The Marketing Director says, "F**k!" and checks his Kotler textbook again, wondering where it all went wrong.

Alright. Time will tell. Another (weekday) visit required. And another weekend visit, maybe 2-3 months from now (the usual time needed for Jakartans to forget all about one passing fad and move on to another).

 

"Grand Theft Mobile (Phone)"

How risky is it to roam the shopping malls of Jakarta? Here are some of the known risks:

Losing sense of direction

This might start on the road already (trying to locate the mall in the first place). Or at the entrance (there are so many entrance gates). Or in the parking lot/building/basement (whichever is more confusing). And the climax (drumroll, please): not being able to find one's car when finished shopping (even if one manages to find the parking area, all floors look similar... and lots of cars look similar, too... just look at all those silver Toyota Avanza)

Losing control: over one's budget, or one's diet plan

"I'm just going to buy that black cardigan. I promise."... "Okay. Got it... wait... ooh, it comes in grey, too! And that one will go great with my new white top."... "Okay. I'm gonna buy the grey... and the red, too. And the black shorts to go with it... and the necklace. Ooh, perfect outfit for the next arisan with the girls!"... "And to celebrate this fabulous shopping, I'll go grab two scoops at Gelato Bar... I'll just go to the gym tomorrow and workout longer than usual... if I can wake up in the morning, that is... ooh, look at those gorgeous strappy sandals!!!" (got the picture?)

Losing one's personal belongings (e.g. wallet, mobile phone)

Sometimes due to carelessness (putting mobile phone in outer compartment of rucksack, or in an unzipped handbag), sometimes due to semi-hypnotized state of mind (caused by "buy one get one free" or "50% discount"-delirium), sometimes due to mere stupidity (displaying one's Nokia E90 or N95 on a table at a crowded foodcourt, beckoning, "Hey, hey, come and grab my phone! I promise I won't look!"), sometimes it's just one's luck. Combined with some kind of "death defying act" by a Harry Houdini or David Blaine wannabe, who manages to fish someone's wallet/phone out of his/her handbag/pocket.  

Losing patience

This applies mostly to men... who have to wait or roam around aimlessly while their spouse/girlfriend/ friend/sister shop excitedly. Browsing stores, trying on clothes/shoes, bargaining prices, mixing and matching outfits, and shopping some more (and forgetting about spouse/boyfriend/friend/brother completely)

In MY case: Plaza Semanggi, 4 August 2008, in broad daylight, losing my mobile phone, obviously just my luck. I remember still having the cute little Nokia thing in the mobile phone compartment INSIDE my handbag the whole time (or so I thought). The next thing I knew, it was gone. Was in the car when I realized it. Retraced every place I visited, to no avail. It vanished into thin air. I guess someone took "Street Magic" too seriously, and practiced it on people at shopping malls, turning it into "Shopping Mall Theft Magic". I was so tempted to cast an evil spell or a terrible curse on whoever stole my phone (like one of the sisters in "Charmed") but I remembered that I don't have any magic powers whatsoever... so, nevermind. 

I'll just have to buy a new phone, then. 

And yes, this is a RANT. Thanks for bearing with me.

Grand Sensory Overload Indonesia

I made the wrong decision today by visiting Grand Indonesia on a public holiday. The usually rather empty corridors and walkways are buzzing with people. Really. People everywhere. I got dizzy just looking at them. And strollers! There were strollers everywhere... with or without infant in it. Sometimes containing shopping bags in lieu of infant. And babysitters! The ratio is 2.5 babysitters per kid. So do your math. And Crocs! Maybe at least 50 per cent of people there were wearing a pair of Crocs in various colors and sizes. They must be doing very well in this country. This quarter's sales target = surpassed by at least 20 per cent. 

There were so many sounds and noises and decorations and colors and lights and images shoved in your face, it's sensory overload. It's so overwhelming. Agoraphobics will run screaming to their psychiatrists. 

And it's truly Attention Deficit Disorder galore... one moment you're walking in Soho, NYC... complete with NYC manhole cover and graffiti. 100 meters further, suddenly you find yourself in a Chinatown somewhere, with gazillions of red lanterns hanging above your head. Then, you cross a sky bridge and find yourself in a dimly lit Zen garden, complete with (fake) bamboo trees and (fake) stepping stones. Of course, it's an extremely noisy Zen garden, because there's a band playing (very loud and somehow out of tune), plus the in-house music blaring from the speakers placed in strategic corners. Go down one floor, and you see a replica of an Italian fountain... right next to a Dutch windmill... and if you walk further, you find yourself in Moulin Rouge. Not only is it ADD heaven, it's a crash course in geography and cultural history, too. Instant NYC, Rome, Amsterdam, Paris and Tokyo. Just add hot water. 

Oh, and wherever you go, you will see people talking (or screaming, more like) into their mobile phones, "What?!! WHERE are you? No, no... I said I'm at WEST mall, not East. You're WHERE?!! 9th floor?!! But there are only 8 floors in this building!!!" and, "Turn left near that sports store, then walk further until you see some escalators... but don't go up or down... just walk straight until you see Seibu... and, huh? No, I'm not in Seibu. You see, you have to go over the sky bridge first... or maybe... wait, I'm confused..." and, "She WHAT?!! I thought she was with YOU!!!"... 

I'm just so glad that I wasn't going there with hyperactive toddlers and overloaded strollers and clueless babysitters in tow *sigh* what is up with these people and the shopping malls of Jakarta?

 

The Knight is Very, Very Dark

Just how dark is "The Dark Knight"? Very dark. "There's no ray of hope for the city." says one review. I went to see it with one question, "Just how brilliant is Heath Ledger as The Joker?" (what I had in mind was Jack Nicholson's Joker... against Michael Keaton's Batman, way back then). Well, Ledger's Joker is chilling to the bone. I mean really, really b-a-a-a-a-d... a mad genius with a sick, dark sense of humor. 

Christian Bale? He's darker than ever. He doesn't smile in the movie. Not even once. But he's just as ravishing as ever (don't take my word... I'm biased here, since I'm a huge fan of Bale's)

Aaron Eckhart? His descent into darkness is disturbing... (plus, the make-up and effects are WAY more real and convincing than the other Batman movie where Tommy Lee Jones is playing Two-Face...) Now my mental picture of him as a warm, charming chef in "No Reservations" is completely ruined. 

"The Dark Knight" walks that thin line between superhero and supervillain, good and evil, White Knight and Dark Knight... tiptoeing and tripping and at times having one foot on each side, deliciously savoring the adrenaline rush during dilemmatic decision making... "Will they push the button? Will he choose Harvey or Rachel? Will he reveal his true identity?"  and sometimes making the wrong choice... or simply giving in to the dark side... which is so painfully human. 

This movie lingers in my mind still, and this is already two days after I saw it.

Oh, wait. I just have to write this: I overheard some girls' conversation in the restroom after the movie. They were chattering loudly. Here are some of their comments:

- "It's crazy... I was so bored in there. It's such a boring movie." (she might be one of those moviegoers who's busy texting or talking on mobile phone in the middle of a show, or doesn't bother to follow the movie plot?)

- "Batman is so low-IQ in this movie. Stupid. Driving a piece of junk for a car." (she's referring to Batmobile, of course... maybe she thinks Batman should be smart enough to choose a sturdier, flashier car, like a Hummer or a Porsche Cayenne... and perhaps a sleek BMW R1200 instead of Batpod?)

I guess not everyone is as passionate or appreciative as I am when it comes to movies. Oh well. At least I still have a bunch a buddies who would be glad to spend time with me discussing movies over a cup of cappuccino. Consider myself lucky :)

I (Don't?) Like Monday.

It's Monday. Well, half an hour past midnight, but it IS Monday. And here's something to ponder this Monday:

"But here comes another Monday. Maybe feeling trapped is just the reality of the way things are. Doesn't everyone hate Monday? Doesn't every responsible person just bury their dreams and passions in exchange for getting a paycheck?" (Dan Miller)

Well? What do you think?

"Wanted": a Kickass Flick and a Huge Crush on McAvoy

Imagine just finishing and submitting my work this Saturday noon? Well, that's what happened, and I was rather pissed off, so I thought I deserve some real action, if only in movies. Time for "Wanted". I want to see James McAvoy kick some ass. And kick some ass he did. And it's bloody awesome. Literally bloody, and totally awesome. It's invigorating to watch him transform from an ultimate cubicle loser into a supercool assassin. What a rush. And there's an unpredictable twist on the storyline, which is great. And there's a steaming hot kissing scene, which I love. 

Deep down inside, there's a Wesley Gibson in each one of us corporate cubicle dwellers... fantasizing about finally lashing out at the boss or smashing a colleague's head with our computer keyboard. Hmm. Or maybe it's just me.

"What the f**k have you done lately?"

The Type-B Diaries, Part 2

Okayyy... I've just had a tall hazelnut latte (with extra shot of espresso) and now I'm completely alert, if not jumpy. At 9.30 PM. Which is fine, because I have to work on a document tonight, and I need all the energy and alertness that I can muster. At least until midnight *grin*

Let's see... it's Day 6 of my Type B Thingy... and I've been quite consistent so far. Mutton and beef instead of chicken. Small amounts of white rice. Carrot and broccoli. Mandarin oranges. French fries (yes yes yes reduce fried food). Coffee (of course). And... a lick of mint ice cream this afternoon. I swear it's just a lick. Just a dot. Maybe the size of an M&M's. And believe you me, being able to resist an ice cream temptation was an achievement of HUGE magnitude. Me, the Ice Cream Monster! Woohoo! 

Moving right along.

nineteen... twenty... twenty-one...

Went to see "21" last night... and what a supercool movie it was. I've always liked Kevin Spacey, and here, he's perfect as the brilliant, cocky and ruthless Prof. Micky Rosa of MIT. And seeing Jim Sturgess and Kate Bosworth as a couple is quite refreshing... because they're young and daring and brainy... unlike some on-screen couples I've seen, which are either too melancholic and whiny, or impossibly tough and "noble". You know what I mean. Sturgess and Bosworth have their flaws, and they give in to temptation at times... just like the rest of us normal human beings do. 

The soundtrack is cool ("You Can't Always Get What You Want"... how proper is THAT?!!)

Oh... and... I will have to read the book "Bringing Down the House". How can I resist? 

The Type-B Diaries, Part 1

I first heard it from my yoga instructor. Blood type diet. Her blood type is A, so she's avoiding meat, and is veering toward vegetarian life, which I find rather boring (if not impossible, at least for me). Then I heard it from someone else, who is Type B. He's promptly avoiding chicken, but is indulging in mutton and lamb meats, because those meats are beneficial for his type. "And, guess what: I should drink regular milk instead of soy milk. Isn't that beautiful?" Yup. 

Mutton and lamb instead of chicken? (what about "white meat is better than red meat"?) Regular cow's milk instead of soy milk? (what about "soy milk is healthier and non-fattening, compared to cow's milk"?) Curious, I went to the book store in search of some enlightenment... which I found in abundance. There are books for each blood type. Recipe books for each blood type (like "Healthy Recipes for Blood Type O"). Hmm. Interesting. I bought the "B" (my type), and an "O" (for comparison, and because some family members are Type O).

I leafed through the book (it's written by Dr. Peter D'Adamo), read the intro... and went on to the "beneficial", "neutral" and "avoid" sections. It's interesting to think that "one type's food can be another type's poison." Definitely not "one size fits all". Let's see... what should I avoid? (nothing delicious, I hope)

Meat and Poultry... beneficial: mutton, lamb, rabbit and deer. Neutral: beef, ostrich, turkey, and veal. Okay. What's missing? Where's the chicken and duck? Oh no, they're in the "avoid" list! Along with smoked beef and ham and pork... and... squirrel and tortoise? (who's eating them, anyway?) So... no more roasted duck at my favorite Duck King? This does not bode well. Anxious, I quickly scanned the rest of the food groups. 

So... it can be safely concluded that I have to say hasta la vista to crab, eel, lobster (oh, what a waste), oyster, prawn, and escargot. Au revoir duck and quail egg, and ice cream (what? This is unacceptable). Arrivederci mung beans, tempe and tofu (and we thought TOFU is the god of all health foods). No more avocado, corn, tomato, and olive (oh my lord...). Sayonara coconut, coconut milk, and starfruit. No more soya sauce, white and black pepper, miso, corn starch and corn syrup, and cinnamon (cinnamon, as in cinnamon bun? Come ON!) No more tomato ketchup. No alcoholic drinks (not even a glass of Cosmopolitan?), no soda of any kind.

Where does that leave me?

As I tried to calm myself down and look for the brighter side of it, I thought, "Okay... how about my other vices? Coffee? Chocolate? Wine? Ricotta and camembert cheese?". Apparently, coffee, chocolate and wine (red and white) are all "neutral" (a huge sigh of relief). Camembert is "neutral". Ricotta cheese is "highly beneficial" (why?) But ICE CREAM is to be avoided? Me? Avoiding ice cream? Get real. How come I'm allowed to gulp down cow's milk, butter, all kinds of cheese and yogurt... but I have to avoid ice cream? Isn't ice cream a derivative of milk? It should be legal for a Type B, right? Especially ME. 

Okay. I decided right there and then that this one "avoid" item cannot be completely avoided. Why? Simply because I'm concerned about my mental well-being. Ice cream to me is like Prozac to some other people. So, whether Dr. D'Adamo likes it or not, I'm going to eat a scoop of heavenly gelato maybe once a month. I mean, I've been eating it my whole life, and I'm not gonna stop just because I'm trying this Blood Type Thingy. If the lectin triggers a funny reaction in my metabolism once a month, then so be it.

So, 1 July 2008, I officially began my "Type B Diet" journey. I'm bringing that book everywhere with me: restaurant, supermarket, you name it. So far, I'm being quite consistent. We'll see in a month :)

My younger sister's comment so far (she's a Type O): "Just throw away the book. Just EAT." Hmm. I guess I didn't score too well in the persuasion department. At least not with my sister.

 

Quote from "The Hunting Party"

Duck: "How come every time I'm with you, I'm putting my life in danger?!!"

Simon: "Let me tell you, my old friend, putting your life in danger is actual living. The rest is just television."

Obviously enough, "The Hunting Party" is one of those movies I watch more than once. So far, I saw it twice. Both at the cinema. The next viewings will be on DVD. 

The Bookworm Diaries, Chapter 2

Tuesday, 1 July. Went to the book festival (again), this time with my daughter. She's developing a bookworm tendency as well... she's been reading a book on a student's journal living in Italy. And she asks sooo many questions ranging from "do you prefer eating at a pizzeria or a gelateria?" to "what is heresy?" which gets me thinking hard at times. Trying to do my best, of course, explaining whatever she wants to know in a language she can understand. But in cases of emergency, there's always Google and Wikipedia. 

She found a book for herself. Then she watched impatiently as I was rummaging in the used books booth (she was gone the moment I paid for my books, but she could understand my excitement when I told her I bought three... and one of them was for her). 

Here are the books I found today:

1. White Teeth (Zadie Smith)

"Something about friendship, love, war, three cultures and three families over three generations, and the tricky way the past has of coming back and biting you on the ankle."

2. Dave Barry's Complete Guide to Guys

As if I needed one. Come on. Are you kidding me?

3. Chicken Soup for the Kids' Soul

This is, obviously, for my daughter. But I will, obviously, be reading it myself too... and she knows it.

So, I took my daughter to a book festival, and I was happy about it. At least we were doing something educational... now I just have to make sure she actually reads them. 

 

The Most Humane and Generous "Diet"

I promptly started reading "French Women Don't Get Fat" because... I can't wait whenever there's a new book around. I like Mireille Guiliano's sensible and easy approach. Just the other day I saw a banner at a nutrition/supplement store, promoting "lose 2.5 kg in 24 hours!", and I wonder what is being lost. Common sense and plenty of fluids, I suppose. 

And who hasn't seen rows and rows of diet guidebooks? Atkins. South Beach. Carb diet. Tiger diet. Vegan. 1000-calories-per-day. 200-calories (oh, sorry, that's the diet for the pet rabbit... wrong shelf). And I remember with a bitterish grin on my face, my crazy days of "6 apples a day and nothing more". Where did I hear that from?!! I was starved, and jittery, and lightheaded, and I think I started hallucinating (illusions of tenderloin, fusilli carbonara, and blueberry cheesecake... slurppp) before realizing that I haven't lost any weight at all. And afterwards, I couldn't stand the sight of apples for years on end. 

So... Mireille's "recipe" truly feels heaven sent. It's so humane and forgiving and generous I wanted to cry reading it... imagine being allowed to eat dark chocolate, mille feuille, pumpkin pie with hazelnuts! Moderately, yes, but still! It's such a welcome change from steamed vegs, low-fat this, artificial sweetener that, and whatnot. I finally found something that's really feasible for lifelong implementation. Because a good diet is not a crash program, it's a lifelong habit, it's the way you live your life. You choose things that are healthy for you, and please you, to boot. So basically, you will be healthy both physically and psychologically... by eating for pleasure. Sounds like a good deal to me. 

If more women could read this book, I believe there will be a significant decrease in the global prevalence of anorexia and bulimia. Yes, it's quite French- and American-oriented (Mireille is a French married to an American, and she writes based on her experience in the two countries) and the recipes might be a bit too Frenchy for Asian palates, but the basic principles are the same, and is applicable in any culture, any country. Just substitute the ingredients and use your common sense, et voila! Bon appetit...

The Bookworm Diaries, Chapter 1

Saturday, 28 June. Agreed to meet with a girlfriend (who's crazier about books than I am) at Pesta Buku, a book festival in South Jakarta. A rare occasion, I think (the "book festival in Jakarta", not "meeting my friend"). Apparently there were 4 exhibitions there in the same complex, opening at the same day... always a good idea to take a cab. It would be parking hell. In fact, my cab couldn't even get into the complex, because all entrance gates were closed (the Governor of Jakarta is visiting the exhibition, said one policeman... so what? Just because he's Governor he has the right to deny his own citizens entrance to a PUBLIC exhibition complex? He's lucky people even voted for him back then! %&@!?#$^@%...)

Okay. I'm cool. 

So, the three of us finally met. The two ladies have got at least a dozen books in their respective shopping bags already... and I had nada :) time to catch up. My favorite part: rummaging the piles and rows of used books at BOOKS. It's like a treasure hunt! My friend K. even offered to help unpack the books from the boxes (the exhibition just opened today)... surely to gain the advantage of grabbing literary gems before others even had a chance... hee hee. My other bookhunting partner C. got "Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing" upon my suggestion (that's one of my favorite girly book... I refuse to label it "chick lit").

So... the treasures I unearthed today? Here comes (drumroll, please): 

1. French Women Don't Get Fat (Mireille Guiliano)

The secret of eating for pleasure. Excerpt: "French women take pleasure in staying thin by eating well, while Americans typically see it as a conflict and obsess over it. French women don't skip meals or substitute slimming shakes for them. They have two or three courses at lunch and then another three (sometimes four) at dinner. And with wine, bien sur. How do they do it? Well, that's a story. That's the story. One hint: they eat with their heads, and they do not leave the table feeling stuffed or guilty."

MY kind of thing. I should've read this book a LONG time ago already. Oh well, now that I found it, I better learn something from it. N'est ce pas?

2. The Worst Noel (a collection of short stories)

Titles include, but are not limited to: "The Bite Before Christmas" (Stanley Bing), "Donner is Dead" (Cynthia Kaplan). My favorite is the "praise" part at the back cover... 

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer." - Santa Claus

"Finally, a Christmas book that I can really relate to." - Ebenezer Scrooge

"I finally get a little acceptance, and then this book comes out!" - Rudolph D. Reindeer

We, of course, celebrated the success of our treasure hunt with a cup of coffee at nearby Starbucks. Ahh... the little things that make life so beautiful... 

My Movie Marathon

Three movies in three days. Three different genres. Three different cinemas. 

1. The Happening

What can I say... it's another M. Night Shyamalan's creation. It's "I see dead people." from beginning to end (literally, "I" see dead people all over the place in the movie). Mark Wahlberg stayed fully clothed the whole time, which was a big waste, but then again, who's got time to strip when you have a bunch of angry plants blowing toxic gusts of wind on people? (btw, I like Wahlberg better, much better, in "Shooter"... not solely because he got to flaunt his gorgeous body there, but... okay, it was mainly because he got to flaunt his gorgeous body there)

In three words: eerie, thought-provoking and disturbing

2. The Incredible Hulk

As much as I love Edward Norton, it's exhausting to see him transmogrify into a green giant every so often, chased by a bunch of vicious military guys led by an even more vicious general, and duel with an even uglier huge creature in the middle of NYC. And he can't even make love to his girlfriend. Not even once. No wonder he's pissed off. 

In three words: green, dark, and noisy

3. Sex and The City

Girly girl. Bitchy bitch. Love the series, and love this movie. What can I say? I'm just a girl, at heart. And it's Mr. Big who's got me carried away. And Louis Vuitton. And Manolo Blahnik. And Prada. And Marc Jacobs. And Vera Wang. And Jimmy Choo. 

In three words: bittersweet, spicy and fabulous

Drinking Quotes :)

When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading - Henny Youngman

Verdict: true. 

Proof: with a bunch of good friends in a hip cozy bar sipping Cosmopolitan or Bellini or Apple Martini, after a hard day at work, or a lazy Saturday, or even any so-so day. Mood gradually lifted until reaching the point of cheerful contentment (you're contented but not silent, because everyone's chatting and laughing and you just have to do the same thing) or poised euphoria (you're euphoric but still have to carry yourself with dignity and poise).

Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy - Benjamin Franklin

Verdict: true.

Proof: with a bunch of schoolmates during grad study, after a day of grueling exams or dreadful project. Dinner is seafood, scattered on the table and picked by hand, dipped in various yummy sauces. The beer is chilled to perfection, the atmosphere slightly rowdy, the chat slightly out-of-control, the laughter loud and hearty. 

I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day - Frank Sinatra

Verdict: true.

Proof: see previous post... might lead to some moments of comfortable silence, which is so totally fine.

Sometimes too much to drink is barely enough - Mark Twain

Verdict: not quite true.

Proof: with friends or hot date, you'll be better off staying in that twilight zone of 'comfortable' and 'friendly' and 'just slightly tipsy'. There's nothing less sexy than walking out of a bar completely wasted, supported by a bunch of equally inebriated buddies (or, worse yet, a sober date).

Thank God It's Friday :)

My idea of a great date? 

When we both have worked hard Monday to Friday. Agree to meet at a new, seemingly very cozy place for cocktails and dinner. Be there on time, still in our business wear, straight from the office. Say hi, give light kiss on the cheeks, genuinely happy to see each other. Realize that the place is fully reserved, laugh, and decide to perch on the bar. Who cares? As long as we're together, we're fine. Talk about what happened today. Order favorite drink immediately (draft beer for him, Cosmopolitan for me). Order escargots for starters. Talk about some mutual friends. Talk about current issues in the country (as if we care). Talk about Anthony Bourdain's book. Make a toast and take a first sip (damn, the Cosmopolitan's good!) Study the menu and cannot decide just yet. Start chatting again. Make a joke on a solitary egg lying among lemons and mint leaves. Scan the surrounding and enjoy the atmosphere. Joke some more, this time on ourselves. Make up our minds about dinner (tenderloin and lamb shank). Talk some more. Discuss what Helen Mirren's character said in National Treasure (adrenaline + tequila = dangerous). Feel sorry for people who have to stand and wait for a table. Decide on second drink. Take first bite when food arrive, then feed each other. Savor the delicious chunks of lamb, the buttery beauty of mushroom sauce, the smooth mashed potatoes, the delicate baby string beans. Steal each other's food. Eat slowly, finish the whole dish, and laugh at each other's empty plate. Drink some more. Talk some more. Get warmer and cozier by the minute. Talk and tease and flirt. Joke and laugh. Think, "Life is good." and say so. He agrees. Finish our drinks. Walk to the car. End the date with pecks on the cheek... still think of how fun it was and how great we felt, so make a phonecall just to say so. The feeling is mutual, and so is that happy, contented grin on our face by the time we got home. 

This is a perfect way to end a hectic, oh-my-God-the-deadline-is-4-pm working week.

To my favorite date: you know who you are *wink*

Falling In Love With Earth All Over Again...

... thanks to that gorgeous BBC documentary. Naturally, it's titled "Earth", and was released to commemorate Earth Day (22 April). In collaboration with Medco Foundation and WWF. Part of ticket sales is being contributed to WWF's conservation program. All's nice and well, but there's a nagging feeling of, "Is that enough?"... if we really want to save our planet, that is.

The movie itself is simply amazing. The sheer cuteness and fluffiness of polar bear cubs and duck chicks. The grace of humpback whales and seals underwater. 

My movie buddy commented that it was just like watching an extended and remixed version of a National Geographic episode. But he loved it nonetheless (although he did yawn several times during the show... maybe the voice of Patrick Stewart felt like lullaby to him). Well, National Geographic or no, I love that movie... it's great that there are some brilliant people out there who dedicate their lives to making this kind of movie, documentary, feature film or whatchamacallit... reminding the rest of us of the grandness of it all: our planet and everything in it; the solar system; the galaxy; the whole universe... and the Supreme Being who created them all. 

I am captivated, fascinated, and humbled by this movie. Kudos to the people who made it happen... and let's make everyday an Earth Day.

Working It Out - Part I

I was on a treadmill next to the RPM/spinning class, i.e. a class where 10 people sit on a stationary bike (one each, mind you) and spin like crazy for an hour, under the guidance of an instructor, to the beat of >180 BPM house-trance-jungle-hiphop combo. 

Couldn't help but ponder why people could be so addicted to this particular thing. Yup, they say it's burning like 1.000 calories per hour, but I don't see people really noticeably getting slim from a daily dose of RPM regime. Frankly, it looks more like torture halfway down the session. When they're spinning hard (I don't know what they call it, but it's when you're supposed to spin as if a team of Predators and Aliens are chasing you... after they work out their dispute, that is). Those spinners. They spin, they pant, they sweat, they huff and puff until they're red in the face... and guess what: they're loving it. There's something masochistic about it. These hardcore gym enthusiasts. There's pride in "hurting themselves at the gym". They will proudly wear their aching limbs and sore muscles to work the next day (especially after that 1st class of RPM, oh sweet God it hurt) claiming, "Yeah, I guess I overdid it at the gym yesterday." and some of their colleague(s) would have that "wow" look on their face. Other, more seasoned colleagues though, would simply give a knowing look and think, "You'd kill yourself trying to impress people, you stupid masochistic brag."

While soreness could be one sign that you've really exercised your muscles (hopefully the right ones), it's not wise to use it as your sole indicator of success. Because your body will eventually adapt itself, and you'd not be content with your workout unless you wake up the next morning aching and whimpering and limping... barely able to lift your arms to shampoo yourself in the shower :( 

That said, I still--and will always--appreciate those faithful gym freaks, masochistic or no. It's just interesting to observe the different species within the gym ecosystem, each with their characteristics and behavior... as for me, just give me an hour of cardio training every morning, and yoga 3-4 times a week, and I would die happy (and healthy)