Children's Books

I love reading. Getting new insights from the writings of great thinkers, learning new vocabularies and observing how the sentences are beautifully written are all to me great pleasures. Sometimes after what feels like a boring or disappointing day, simply reading a good article gives me a sense of accomplishment and the day doesn't feel so bad anymore.

Being a reading enthusiast, though, my interest in fiction has decreased with time. As I grow older, I find myself fascinated more and more with philosophy and memoirs, and hence for the past few years I've been reading more writings on such topics than I have novels, which were my favorite when I was a teenager. Now, my preference of enjoying fictional works is channeled through watching good movies and TV series, instead.

There is, however, an exception for children stories. When it comes to children's literature, I somehow seem to have the eagerness of a little kid. In fact, most of the books I bought this year were those of collections of children stories, with lovely illustrations on each of their pages.

Not everyday, but once in a while when I'm in the mood for some magic and wild imaginations, I like picking one of the many thick books on my shelf, sit cross-legged on the couch, and then flip my fingers through the colorful pages and feel the child in me jumping with joy. I will pick one or two stories that I haven't read, relishing in its every sentence of sometimes unreasonable words and funny names. When the story ends, I will go back to the beginning to pay close attention to its illustrations. When I decide that I've had enough fun, I close the book and put it back, saving the rest of the stories for another time.

Now, when I was very little, my family lived in a house with a big bookstore nearby. My parents would take us there often and bought my sisters quite a lot of children's books. I, unfortunately, not learning yet how to read, didn't get any share of those precious things. By the time I did learn how to read, or at least pretended to, we had moved out to another part of the city. There was no bookstore nearby. Hence, the old bookshelf in our house is full of children's books belonging to my sisters. None belongs to me.

I once joked with my mom that my enthusiast in children's literature came from an unfulfilled desire to have my own books as a kid. This, of course, is not true. I myself was happier playing with stuffed animals and kitchen sets than with books when I was little.

As a grown up, however, flipping through pages of lovely drawings and simple yet powerful stories somehow gives me pure joy. It reminds me that this old world, which can sometimes seem cruel and unfair and scary, still in fact has in it a big space for kindness, innocence and awe. The very existence of children's books has, at least to me, brought a semblance of a better world. I guess it is also my way of keeping the child in me alive.

Favorite Things

When I came back from a one-year study in China, I brought home a bowl and a pair of spoon and fork, which with a pair of cheap wooden chopsticks I left behind, were the only eating utensils I had while living there. It wasn't a beautiful bowl, nor was it an expensive one. It is made of melamine and had pictures of red berries, yellow pears and blue grapes with green leaves encircling the outer part of it. Nothing is special about that bowl, except for the fact that it is mine and that I like eating with that bowl. The spoon and fork, being a pair and made of steel, each has a rose-shaped carving on their handling, which makes them look elegant. What I like more about them is their perfect curves and thickness, which I find comfortable for eating. Again, nothing stands out about the pair. One can easily find such pair of spoon and fork, even more beautiful and expensive ones, very easily these days. They are, however, special to me.

Even now everytime I need to use a tablespoon, I will scrabble through the container, looking for my favorite spoon with the rose-shaped carving on its handling. Sometimes it takes me a while to find it amongst the other spoons, but I always persevere until I find it, and the voice in my head goes, "There you are!" triumphantly. The food, of course, doesn't actually taste any more delicious, but I have a more enjoyable eating experience, simply by holding that spoon in my hands.

We all have our favorite things. Those things that don't necessarily have practical function, and yet, simply adds pleasure, sometimes to an unreasonable extent, to our everyday experiences. We all have our favorite old tee-shirt, favorite dish, favorite piece of music, favorite book, favorite tea, favorite perfume...the list goes on and on.

And it seems the 'favorite' label is not exclusive only to us humans.

My dog Kayla has found her new favorite things. It started around a year ago after we fixed our old couches in the living room. Looking new and being comfortable to sit on now, the couch was like a magnet pulling me and my comfort-loving buttock. I started doing my reading sitting on that couch. Then, I started spending a few hours every night having fun with my phone, sitting on that couch. Soon enough, I took my laptop to the living room, so that I could watch my favorite TV series sitting on that couch. Kayla, who had never jumped up onto a couch before, was facing a dilemma now. She wanted to sit next to me, and yet seemed to be afraid to jump up. For the first few weeks I had to carry her up the couch, which could be a little annoying sometimes since she would always jump down everytime she heard any suspicious sound and went outside to investigate it, and then come back asking for my help, in her cute way, to carry her back up on the couch. This could happen more than a few times a night, until I decided to teach her to jump up onto the couch by herself.

Now, mastering the skill, she can jump up onto and down from the couch as she likes it. Sitting, sometimes even curling up sleeping, there for hours a day is one of her favorite things to do. Even the long couch has been claimed as her favorite spot. Whenever a guest comes over and takes a sit on that couch, she will quickly jump up and sit right next to this invader, as if saying, "This is the farthest you are allowed to go on my couch."

When it comes to our favorite things, I think they also give us a sense of belonging and personal identity. After all, the best description of those closest to us are often on their favorite things. Those particular things they do or like that inevitably remind us of them.

My sister's favorite color is purple. So ever since I learned that about her, the color purple has always reminded me of my sister.

One of my best friend loves reading so much, the other loves crocheting. When I have to describe them, their favorite things to do simply come to mind.

When I was little, I would have fun making my own biography, listing all my favorite things, starting from my favorite color to my favorite car. They, of course, change with time. But then again, so do I. Still, it's nice learning our favorite things, just as it is learning others'. Even nicer is surrounding ourselves everyday with our favorite things.

Falling... Well, Plunging, More Accurately.

Everyone else wouldn't take so much time to decide whether to jump or not. They would think about it for a little while, and then jump with their parachute ready.

But not me.

It takes me forever to find the perfect cliff to stand on, and then it would take me what-feels-to-be-a-decade to observe the valley down there. I would consider every possibility, every part of the valley I like and don't like. I would contemplate, contemplate, and contemplate. Then I would stand on the edge, peeking down, observing again while trying hard to keep both my feet steady.

Everyone else is already jumping - some with their parachute open, steadily and calmly going down.

But I would still be standing on the edge of the cliff, thinking once again if I would really jump down there.
And when I finally do, I don't jump. I plunge. Fast. Head first. With no parachute on my back. It's either being caught or falling hard. It's always like that. And it's always the latter for me -  so far, at least. And it's not that I can't find my way up to the top of the mountain again. I would, eventually. I always have. But climbing up is just exhausting and time-consuming and... have I said exhausting?

That's why I hope that at least this time I'd jump - plunge - to finally be caught with open arms. It doesn't really matter if we both would later have to roll down for some miles because of the weight and the speed and the gravity. Hell, I would love to roll together with arms around each other... or better, with his arms around me. But please, catch me this time. Because falling hard hurts. And climbing back up alone is exhausting.

A Thought During Reading Paulo Coelho's The Zahir

Maybe true love is like a good book that gives us the most joy from reading it little by little, giving us the most pleasure from savoring just enough pages everyday, leaving us with both curiosity and satisfaction, instead of draining all our energy by compelling us to devour it all at once.

Though, my favorite books are those I gobbled overnight.

But true love, I believe, should be contentment instead of an obsession. It should make us feel that we don't have to grab it with us all the time in order to experience it, that the pages, the journey, and not the ending, is what is most important. It should, with every new chapter, give us more understanding of things, from which when we take a break, challenges us to analyze and reflect on our­selves.

This good book that I'm currently reading gives me exactly that, and though after I finish it later I might forget the details of its every chapter - as always happens with every book I've read - I won't forget this lovely feeling from savoring its hundreds of precious pages for many nights.

An Exciting Week

The weather in Bandung hasn't been very friendly this past week. For the last few days thunder storms have resulted in flood and street damages everywhere in the city. Some of our students couldn't even come to the lesson because a huge tree had fallen across one of the main streets on Wednesday. Luckily, it hasn't rained cats and dogs in two days. But even as I'm writing now, the temperature has gone down to the point where I need to wear socks and a thick sweater even after all the windows have been shut.

It doesn't really matter how the weather is, though, because despite the downpour, it has been a good and exciting week. First, my big sister got married yesterday! It was also the first time I became a bridesmaid, and my, being in charge of the wedding dress was much more tiresome than I had thought! The party went well, the food served tasted better than it had been at the food testing two weeks earlier, and I was excited to meet my big family, my mom's old friends and, unexpectedly, an ex-student I haven't seen in years, who turned out to be one of the dancers. It was so good to see them again. I only wish that I had had more time to catch up with them. I did manage to find time to take some shots with my dad and my other sister before the party, though.

I also hung out with one of my best friends, Nat, last Sunday. We had a great lunch at my favorite cafe, and afterwards, a nice afternoon walk and chat in the nearby mall. And we bought books! I bought two, out of a few I was tempted to buy. The first one is the first book of Supernova by a great Indonesian author, Dee. I read the novel for the first time when I was still a teenager and borrowed it from a local book rental, but never finished it. Now that I have bought the book, I will enjoy the whole story, and maybe buy the sequels. The second book I bought was the latest work by my favorite author Paulo Coelho, Manuscript Found in Accra, which I have wanted to buy since last year. I couldn't resist but to read it as soon as I got home and finish it overnight. The book, as it is with any of Coelho's work, is an inspiration and wisdom wrapped in delight. A highly-recommended book for anyone. Here I insert an excerpt of the book as was introduced in the author's blog:

Does a leaf, when it falls from the tree in winter, feel defeated by the cold?

The tree says to the leaf: ‘That’s the cycle of life. You may think you’re going to die, but you live on in me. It’s thanks to you that I’m alive, because I can breathe. It’s also thanks to you that I have felt loved, because I was able to give shade to the weary traveller. Your sap is in my sap, we are one thing.’

Does a man who spent years preparing to climb the highest mountain in the world feel defeated on reaching that mountain and discovering that nature has cloaked the summit in storm clouds? The man says to the mountain: ‘You don’t want me this time, but the weather will change and, one day, I will make it to the top. Meanwhile, you’ll still be here waiting for me.’

Does a young man, rejected by his first love, declare that love does not exist? The young man says to himself: ‘I’ll find someone better able to understand what I feel. And then I will be happy for the rest of my days.’

Losing a battle or losing everything we thought we possessed will bring us moments of sadness, but when those moments pass, we will discover the hidden strength that exists in each of us, a strength that will surprise us and increase our self-respect.

Wait patiently for the right moment to act. Do not let the next opportunity slip.

Take pride in your scars. Scars are medals branded on the flesh, and your enemies will be frightened by them because they are proof of your long experience of battle. Often this will lead them to seek dialogue and avoid conflict.

Scars speak more loudly than the sword that caused them.

Another of my best friends, Silvia, is coming back home for holiday during her master study in China. I haven't seen her in over two years, and this time, we have promised to hang out, also with Nat, just like the old college days! It's been such a long time since the three of us got together, and I'm so excited!

I also got a chance for another movie with a friend on Thursday. It was Jackie Chan's latest action movie, Police Story 2013, which is entertaining despite a few scenes of long conversations and its absence of comedy.

I am now going to enjoy the rest of the night reading over a cup of hot chocolate, and maybe also staying up late, as tomorrow is Maulud, which is a national holiday. Just before I end this post, let me share with you another interesting thing - or two. This time, it deals with photography. Thanks to Instagram, I got amazing pics to kill the time with while waiting for a make-over before the wedding party yesterday. These two are my favorite:

Wishing you an exciting week as well,

Here's To Dreaming and Striving

Friday, January 03, 2014

Hello, everyone. How’s your new year so far? I hope we all welcome this new chapter with more spirit and enthusiasm in our hearts.

I’m not a party-goer, not even on New Years, so probably like some of you, I welcomed the New Year at home with family, embracing the coziness inside while out there fireworks spluttered cheerfully and trumpets were blown. Unfortunately for Kayla, who doesn’t seem to understand the idea of New Years and why fireworks and trumpets are fun, it was a pretty much terrifying night with irritating noise. For the rest of us, however, It was a simple celebration with Ronde Jahe, a kind of Chinese as well as Javanese hot dessert containing glutinous rice balls floating in sweet ginger, which I helped Mom make. And after greeting my dear friends online, I spent the first two hours of 2014 watching a rerun of X-Men The Last Stand on a national TV channel. The movie is pretty cool.

I’ve made it a habit on new year’s day to look back on the previous year and to see what changes it has brought into my life. It’s a good way to reflect and be grateful. So, before going to sleep on the first day of the year, I looked back on 2013, and despite some bumps, big and small, it was a good year to me. It is the year when I finally got my own bedroom and had a little Christmas tree in the house. It is also the year when I met new friends and was reunited with some old ones, and is surprisingly the year when one of my best friends and both of my sisters decided to get married! 2013 also continuously reminded me that we need to let some things go in order to get better ones, and when we’re too stubborn to do so, life does it for us, sometimes in a way which we are upset about at first, but which we will end up being grateful for. I had to lose all my data in Need for Speed: Hot Pursuit, which was my favorite game and which I had spent months completing, when a student of mine accidentally uninstalled it, in order to finally free up some space in my phone to be able to install Instagram, which I had always wanted to try. And later in December, I had to lose most of my data, including some valuable notes I had written, when something was wrong with my phone and I needed to hard reset it, in order for it to perform much better now.

For the first twelve days of my Christmas holiday, I had to spend each day going out and being busy preparing for my sister’s wedding. After the New Year, however, I finally got the chance to enjoy my time just staying at home and relaxing. In fact, I’ve been spending most of the first two days in 2014 happily catching up with movies I have always planned to watch, like Turbo, which I watched with my sister. There is a quote I love from the movie: “No dream is too big, and no dreamer too small.” It is a quote needs remembering, especially for us grown-ups who, with our richer knowledge and experience of life, have learned to put logic above all and have often forgotten that the impossible happens to those who strive. No dream is too big, my friends, and no dreamer is too small.

I also finally got the time to read the online articles I have Pocket-ed, and was reminded again that the most important thing in nourishing our creativity is to just show up. This is one of my New Year’s resolutions, as it always is every year. We all have that creative spark in us flaming since we were kids – either it’s finger painting or simply coloring the walls with crayons, either it’s paper folding or lego building, or gardening, or writing poems or simply making some puns, either it’s cooking ending up with horrible omelets or even just some tunes for a great-song-to-be. And somehow, some of us ignore the spark or put it out with self-doubt and fear, which is often disguised in excuses about family or work, or worse, we let others extinguish our spark with criticism. Beauty, as is any work of art, lies in the eyes of the beholder. Only because your art teacher gives your drawing an E, or your friends say that your music sucks, or that you are a horrible cook, doesn’t mean that you should stop trying. If it gives us joy, why not do it for ourselves and ignore what other people say? Writer Isabel Allende said, “Show up. Show up. Show up. In the end, the muse might show up, too.”

I also learned that my favorite football club, Chelsea, finished their first match in 2014 with a 3-0 away victory against Southampton, which is a sweet way to mark the beginning of the New Year, and is hopefully one of the many more victories to come.

The New Year has been really hopeful, and hopefully we can continue to help make this old world an even more hopeful one. Happy 2014, everyone! Here’s to dreaming and striving.