tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89669216397240852042024-02-21T00:23:41.070-08:00Breathe Think WriteAnisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-47394966816669398562024-01-22T19:48:00.000-08:002024-01-22T22:27:23.508-08:005 - my precious pearl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the early chapters of my life, my first two girl best friends were Teteh and Mama. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And the third spot was reserved for someone with no blood ties. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Her name was <u>Mutiara</u>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It means Pearl in English. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We first met during our kindergarten days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our shared love for Sailormoon was what brought us closer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our school days were inseparable. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We had our favorite, secret spot in the backyard, away from the hustle and bustle of other kids.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We would play swings there and talked and laughed and talked again and laughed again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once, at recess, there were twins who kicked me in the stomach just because they didn’t want to wait for their turn.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mutiara came to my rescue, checking on me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then she ran to Bu Yani to report it while I still remained frozen in shock.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She then declared that she no longer wanted to play with the troublesome twins ever again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">How could I not love her?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our friendship extended beyond the school gates. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Living just 500 meters apart, we’d visit each other’s house at least twice a week.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our playdates were filled with showing off our collections of hologram Sailormoon cards.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Whenever I visited Mutiara’s house, we’d always turn her <i>bak mandi</i> into our make-believe bathtub.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We’d soak there and wouldn’t get out, not until our fingers got all wrinkly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then with those temporary wrinkled skin, we’d talk as if we were toothless grandmas.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our bathroom creativity also included the soap sledding on the bathroom floor.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We would spread the liquid soap all over the floor and add some splash of water. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If the floor had been slippery, falling was a must.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We'd both laugh when one of us took a tumble.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Post-bath, it was Sailormoon time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the late '90s, Sailormoon aired on TV.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And our afternoons were always dedicated to watching it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We couldn't miss an episode. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Following the show, we’d engage in activities like coloring or reading magazines.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mutiara subscribed to Ina, while I was a loyal reader of Bobo. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Beyond playtime, Mutiara and I shared similar interests, including participating in traditional dance classes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We practiced together in the school auditorium, gearing up for our first performance at Taman Mini Indonesia Indah.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the big day, Mutiara looked so stunning with makeup.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I, too, had makeup on. But I had shed some tears earlier because I felt like a walking <i>ondel-ondel</i> with my red lipstick.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I remember Teteh laughing at my makeup as well.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Although Mama & Ayah insisted otherwise, I couldn't shake the feeling that they were just being kind.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ayah had been reminding me since morning to look in his direction & to smile while dancing because he had his camera ready.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A directive I completely forgot in the middle of the crowd.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When the dance finally started,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mama gestured for me to smile and pointed to her own lips, showing me how.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn't realize that I had a frown on my face throughout the dance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, I was sweating bullets!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The heat and the uncomfortable traditional attire had caused rashes on my skin. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My eczema had flared up on my neck, arms, hands, legs, and feet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And to make matters worse, the eczema ointment was in Mama's bag.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She couldn't come backstage before the show. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Another reason for my frown was the overwhelming number of audience. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Maybe there were thousands of them. I’m not kidding. It was so crowded. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">During rehearsals at school, only a few boys in the class watched us, never more than ten.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After the dance, I took a photo with my group of dancers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I stood next to Mutiara, and we held each other’s hands, but it wasn't visible in the picture. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Time flew. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After graduating from kindergarten, Mutiara and I entered the same elementary school but found ourselves in different classes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Unfortunately, her time at the school was brief, not lasting more than one <i>Caturwulan</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mutiara’s family moved far away to Jogja, or some other places they called Jawa. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We promised to keep in touch, and for a while, we did.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But, life took over.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our calls slowly faded away. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No more long phone calls. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not even quick stroll-by hellos.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Several years later, when I was 10 and armed with a new handphone, I attempted to reconnect.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I dialed her home phone number, only to find out Mutiara had moved again… leaving me with no way to reach her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, the idea of reconnecting with Mutiara via social media crossed my mind. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Should I tweet, “Twitter, please do your magic”?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Is there really a chance for magic to bring us back together?</div><p></p>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-44478180024880994552023-12-21T01:09:00.000-08:002023-12-23T06:39:21.702-08:004 - the sour school<p>It turns out school was not as lovely as Teteh's stories made it sound.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When it was my turn to be a kindergarten student, I wasn't that thrilled.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The excitement was nowhere to be found. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Too many strangers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Too many unfamiliar faces.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The school building itself was different.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn't end up to the school my sister attended a year before.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We moved to a new house. Consequently, we enrolled in a school close to our new home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My excitement about going to school quickly faded.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sure, my sister was around as my senior, but everything was still new.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And being in a completely foreign place made me feel all jittery inside. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The only thing I liked about this new school was my compassionate teacher, Bu Yani.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She was exceptionally pretty, with long black hair and always wearing dark red lipstick.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What I loved most was that she wore boots, just like me!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And this reminded me of the first time I experienced bullying.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I recall playing alone on the swings during recess when a classmate dropped a bomb in front of me:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Ena, your shoes are weird.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Spicing things up, my 2 other friends were laughing at her comment while pointing at my boots. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was stunned and hurt.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn't know it was a form of bullying.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Teteh had never shared stories about friends saying hurtful things.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No one had ever told me how painful it could be when something I loved was ridiculed in front of me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I nearly burst into tears.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The boots actually belonged to Teteh. I borrowed them that morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Teteh and I shared a pair of dark purple suede boots since our feet were the same size, allowing us to exchange shoes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Lost in thought about Teteh, I wondered how she would react if she knew this. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And why having friends at school wasn't as fun as Teteh said it would be?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Had someone ever been this mean to her?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Had she ever kept some secret from me?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Had she ever been bullied?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Was this normal?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wanted to scream my lungs out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But silence won the battle inside me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When the bell rang, Mama picked us up at the front gate.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In front of the kindergarten, a vendor was selling Indonesian traditional snacks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We made it a daily stop. No kidding. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Every day after school, Mama would get me my all-time fave sponge cake, Bolu Pelangi!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was the highlight of my day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That sweet treat made the bullying nonsense vanish into thin air. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At least for a little while.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">--</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I never spoke to anyone about the incident with the boots.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not until some weeks later when Mama asked why I never wore them again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, I didn't say what happened to Mama because Teteh was there and I didn’t want to upset Teteh.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She wore the boots more frequently than I did. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That morning, Mama convinced me that my outfit, if styled with the boots, would be fantastic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I agreed with her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So... After a long time, I wore them again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But seriously, going to school with something my friends hated??? It felt like torture. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So the unspoken social rule was:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Your love for your favorite things doesn't matter one bit. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No one cares about your preferences. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If your friends (or even just a friend, --singular) find your stuff irritating, you need to pretend that you don't like it either... to please them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To be liked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To be accepted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To fit in. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was downright pathetic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Those bullies were not even my close friends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But my tiny 4-year-old heart was still desperate for their nod of approval.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was scared all the way to school.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was on the verge of tears. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">School sucked. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After arriving in front of the class, Mama left us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Did I mention that Teteh was in the same school as me, but we didn't play together at school?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She preferred spending time with her classmates.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And that was one of the major reasons why school wasn’t fun for me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On that day, my teacher, the very kind Bu Yani, leaned toward me and said,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Ena, I like your boots. I wear boots, too! Look at mine! The only difference is that mine is black, and yours is dark purple. But yours is cooler. Is that suede???"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wow...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I loved her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So much.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She had always been my absolute favorite.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And the fact that Bu Yani complimented my boots, the ones my friends had mocked, made me smile from ear to ear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cherry on top: she didn't just whisper it to me!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She said it loud and clear enough for the whole class to hear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My friends couldn't miss it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Neither could those 3 bullies.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I couldn’t stop smiling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And just like that... I fell in love with school and with my boots... all over again. </div></div>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-42118459510784880582023-12-19T23:58:00.000-08:002023-12-20T18:51:32.716-08:003 - wishing we were twinsI hated it when Teteh started going to school in 1996.<div>No Teteh at home meant No Fun.</div><div>Seriously, who knew my house could be so dull without her around?</div><div>I was totally not ready.
</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Every morning,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd get all emotional,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd shed a tear or two (……two rivers),</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd get told for a thousand time that I gotta wait until I was 4,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd be hopelessly wishing that Teteh and I were twins, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd beg Mama to let me wear clothes that matched Teteh's snazzy school uniform.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once Teteh and I were all dressed in the “same” uniform, we would stroll to school with Mama.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Teteh's school was super close to our house. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I had a soft spot for Teteh’s school.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was big with so many vibrant paintings on the walls.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At that time I wondered why people didn't paint their houses like that. It would be so cool.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And there were friendly teachers in Teteh's class. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sometimes, her teachers even let me sit in the classroom for a bit. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mama said that they allowed me in because they felt sorry seeing me show up at the school with a face still red from crying.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I enjoyed sitting in her class, even though my seat was far from Teteh.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had to sit way at the back, close to the door. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Teteh’s friends usually gave me those skeptical look. But, come on!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In my defense, my clothes looked pretty similar to their uniforms!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The days when I got to sit in Teteh's class were my lucky days.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the not-so-lucky days, my role was limited to walk Teteh to her classroom before heading home with Mama.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the way back, I always brushed away my tears because I wanted to go to school just like Teteh.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I really did. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While waiting for Teteh to finish school, I would play with Mama.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Playing with Mama was fun, but it was even more exciting when the three of us played together as we usually did. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Time felt like it was taking forever while I waited for Teteh to finish school. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But you know what made it all worth it???</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You know what was the best part of waiting???</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Picking Teteh up after school!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That part was a blast because Teteh would spill the beans with loads of cool stories about her day. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I got a sneak peak of the school world through Teteh's stories.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Teteh would tell me about her friends. I even knew the name of the prettiest friend in her class. And also the names of the troublemakers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Teteh was making a bunch of cool new friends who were just as young as she was. It was a whole new world because our neighbors didn't have any kids my age or Teteh's age.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Listening to Teteh’s stories was my favorite thing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It made me look forward to my own school days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I couldn't wait for my turn to start school.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I couldn’t wait to be in the same school as Teteh!<br /><br />---</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />P.S.:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Put in mind that I was just a 3-year-old kid when this all happened. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But this bitter memory still hangs around like an unwelcome guest. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's why I think I needed to write this all down too. Maybe it'll be a little guide. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And hopefully, no more kids would feel as clueless as I was. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fast forward to the time when I got all into Psychology...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I discovered that what I went through had a legit term:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u><a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=sibling+separation+anxiety&oq=sibli&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqBggAEEUYOzIGCAAQRRg7MgoIARAAGLEDGIAEMgoIAhAAGLEDGIAEMgYIAxBFGDkyBwgEEAAYgAQyBwgFEAAYgAQyBggGEEUYPDIGCAcQRRg80gEIMTE2OGowajeoAgCwAgA&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#ip=1" target="_blank">Sibling Separation Anxiety</a></u>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you are a parent and have more than one kid, my advice is to explore some articles on the topic.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just click that keyword.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Learn the tricks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Apply what works best for your little ones. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My mama did her best back then in the pre-Internet era.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But now that we've got the internet right at our fingertips, why don't we make the most of it?</div></div></div></div></div>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-25465369793307475822023-10-10T08:53:00.024-07:002023-12-19T05:51:37.731-08:003 - fluffy, feline friend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Her name was Si Putih.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Si Putih wasn’t my average feline friend. </div><div style="text-align: left;">She was my first fluffy, feline friend. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I was 3 years old when we crossed paths. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Si Putih made her home in the attic of my old house. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, don't picture a fancy attic;</div><div style="text-align: left;">it was more like a storage space tucked right above the laundry room.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One day, Ayah called out excitedly from the laundry room.</div><div style="text-align: left;">“Teteh! Ena! Come here!”</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We rushed over to find him perched on a bamboo ladder.</div><div style="text-align: left;">“In this attic is a litter of kittens! And there is the cat mom, too!”</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah invited me to go upstairs.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Teteh immediately reclined his offer, leaving me alone under that intimidating ladder.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I stood still there.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">“Ena! You will like them! <i>Ayah yakin Ena pasti suka</i>!”</div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes I know I like cats. But that rickety bamboo ladder?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just by looking at it, I knew it was so unsafe it could kill people.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was like a stairway to heaven a.k.a <i>alam barzah</i>. No kidding. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But the super adorable meows from those newborn kittens made me so curious!</div><div style="text-align: left;">I couldn’t resist. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">With cautious steps & Ayah's help, I climbed that ladder. </div><div style="text-align: left;">And there, at the top, I was greeted by a cluster of pure white kittens and their white mom.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It really was a stairway to heaven. No kidding!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now the word heaven here referred to earthly paradise!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">From that moment on, my family decided that Si Putih and her precious babies would call the attic their home (while I called them all MINE!!!)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Si Putih was a domestic cat.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Her fur was entirely snowy-white, except for her tail.</div><div style="text-align: left;">She had a black dot on her tail.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I can't quite recall the color of her eyes, but in my distant memory, they were blue.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I remember I used to invite Si Putih to come into my house.</div><div style="text-align: left;">She would often get stuck in the backyard, near the buckets in the laundry room.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Whenever Si Putih was already inside the house, I always begged Mama to feed her.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Back then, my knowledge about cats’ nutrition was limited...</div><div style="text-align: left;">I thought chicken bones were her food. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Poor Si Putih.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">---</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One day, disaster struck.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Si Putih disappeared.</div><div style="text-align: left;">She didn’t return home for days.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I remember crying my eyes out like a river. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Fast forward to my teenage years, my parents still remember this moment and they said,</div><div style="text-align: left;">“When Si Putih was missing, you refused to eat.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You said you would eat only if Si Putih came home and ate with you.”</div><div style="text-align: left;">My parents said that I rarely cried as a kid, so that moment remains etched in their memory. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But alhamdulillah, a few days later, Si Putih came back home!!!</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was overjoyed!</div><div style="text-align: left;">I immediately told Ayah that we had to bring Si Putih to our new house. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah & Mama, mindful of my recent heartache, agreed right away.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">On the moving day,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah had to make several trips to transport our belongings.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah's car was so small. It was an old Volkswagen Beetle, black in color. </div><div style="text-align: left;">The distance between my old and new house was about 4 kilometers.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I remember the moment when our old house began to feel emptier as we packed our things.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It started to give me some uncomfortable feelings.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah told me, "Na, I'll take Si Putih with me now. But let the kittens stay in the attic.</div><div style="text-align: left;">We'll bring one cat only."</div><div style="text-align: left;">I agreed. I had no special connection with those kittens anyway. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That afternoon, Ayah packed some stuff and drove the car with Si Putih. </div><div style="text-align: left;">But, he soon returned with everything still in the car, including Si Putih.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He sighed, "Na, Si Putih can't sit still in the car. What should we do? I guess we can't bring her.</div><div style="text-align: left;">How about if we let her stay here with her kittens?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was speechless...</div><div style="text-align: left;">Too sad to say anything. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But then, Ayah changed his mind once more,</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Or how about if you come with me first? So that you’d know she can't sit still in the car..."</div><div style="text-align: left;">I smiled again and shouted, “<i>IYA! ENA MAU!</i>”</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I got into the car, settling in the back seat.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah placed Si Putih on my lap.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Off we went to the new house. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And to my surprise, Si Putih remained calm throughout the ride.</div><div style="text-align: left;">As we made our way to the new house, Ayah couldn't help but keep looking at the rear-view mirror.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He kept laughing, "How is this possible??? Earlier when Si Putih was just with me, she couldn't sit still, she was jumping all around.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But now, with you???? She's very calm! <i>Emang bener Si Putih cuma nurutnya sama Ena aja ya. Berarti dia tau siapa yang sering kasih dia makan.</i>"</div><div style="text-align: left;">I felt so happy knowing that Si Putih was truly meant to be my cat.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><u>One core memory was unlocked. It was yellow.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our new house was way smaller than the old rented house, but it sat right next to my grandma's house, making it more special.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">On our first night in the new house, my big sister and I still slept with our parents.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But I couldn't fall asleep & was overwhelmed with stress.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It wasn't until 2 am that I was finally in tears…</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I sobbed, "<i>Ayah... Ena mau pulang. Ayo kita pulang, Yah.</i>"</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah woke up instantly & replied, "Na, this is our new home."</div><div style="text-align: left;">I persisted, "No, it's not. I wanna go home..."</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah gently explained, "This is our home, Na. The old house belonged to someone else.</div><div style="text-align: left;">We were just renting it. Now we're gonna live here forever."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ayah's words didn't calm me down. They added to my worry instead. </div><div style="text-align: left;">It turned out that my sadness arrived a little later than everyone else's.</div><div style="text-align: left;">While others wept earlier this morning during the farewell with the neighbors and the house itself,</div><div style="text-align: left;">my tears didn't flow until the quiet of the night. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I kept thinking about my old house. </div><div style="text-align: left;">But eventually, exhaustion took over. I fell asleep.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The next day, I introduced Si Putih to my cousins who lived in my grandma's house.</div><div style="text-align: left;">They fell in love with her instantly!</div><div style="text-align: left;">They introduced me to their cat, too. I forgot the cat’s name. </div><div style="text-align: left;">But we always had a playdate together with our cats. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Unfortunately, my uncle (my mom’s little brother) who lived in my grandma’s house didn’t like cats.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He scolded us every time we played with our cats in <i>Rumah Nenek</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He said, "One day I will throw those cats away!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I was so angry with him. I told Mama that he shouldn't have said that. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That 'one day' came in one afternoon.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I just returned home from kindergarten, only to find Si Putih missing.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I cried and yelled and screamed, and convinced that she couldn't have vanished on her own. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Someone must have thrown her away. </div><div style="text-align: left;">And Mama said I was right:</div><div style="text-align: left;">my uncle threw Si Putih away. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>I threw a tantrum.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>I wished I could throw something else upon him.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Something bigger.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Something more terrifying.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Something that could scare him and keep his hands off my cat.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>But I could only throw a tantrum.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><u>One core memory was unlocked. It was blue.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I knew for real that my anger was just a surface emotion.</div><div style="text-align: left;">My anger concealed a collection of deeper feelings: disappointment, sadness, betrayal, vulnerability, fear. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes, fear.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now that I’m already an adult, I know that some adults want some kids to fear them.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I was indeed so afraid of my uncle because he was taller, older, and way more powerful than my 3-year-old self.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Since he threw away Si Putih (& my cousin's cat, too), I kept my distance from him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><u>His presence always reminded me of Si Putih’s absence.</u></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But one day (July 7),</div><div style="text-align: left;">literally one day after my birthday (July 6),</div><div style="text-align: left;">I decided to forgive him................... on the day he passed away (July 7, 2021)</div><div style="text-align: left;">roughly 25 years after he threw my cat away.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Maybe it's safe now to call it closure. </div>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-86797869000330629372023-10-02T05:53:00.138-07:002023-12-19T05:36:12.160-08:002 - first fragment of memory<div>Being an aunt,</div><div>I've had the privilege to witness the gentle love my parents shower upon my nephew, Aufaa.</div><div>Their devotion as grandparents knows no bounds.</div><div>They’ve been all in with Aufaa since he popped into this world. </div><div><br /></div><div>Every other day, my mom washes and dries his teeny tiny clothes under the sun, ensuring all his clothes are clean and crisp.</div><div>Meanwhile, my dad is always available to create homemade toys & mend the broken ones.</div><div>When Aufaa refuses to eat, they would act like silly circuses... doing whatever it takes to soothe Aufaa's cries.</div><div>Most importantly, they are willing to listen to my sister and me, as we share our fresh perspectives on raising children.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Last August, Aufaa just turned 2 years old. </div></div><div>And my parents’ dedication to being grandparents continues up until today.</div><div><br /></div><div>Whenever I see my parents taking care of Aufaa, I can't help but wonder,</div><div>"Was this how they used to care for me when I was little?"</div><div><br /></div><div>If I were to dig deep into my memories and recall my very first moment in this world, I have one distinct memory.</div><div>My first memory of being alive dates back to when I was 2 years old, likely around 1995.</div><div>I can say this with confidence because:</div><div>-<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I remember at that moment my sister hadn't started kindergarten yet, making her just 3 years old.</div><div>-<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We were all still living in our old house. We moved to the new house when my sis was 4 & I was 3.</div><div>-<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So yeah, no shit Sherlock, it all leads to the fact that I was indeed 2 years old during that memory.</div><div><br /></div><div>At that time, I was the same age as Aufaa today.</div><div><br /></div><div>I can vividly recall this one scene.</div><div>It was, as mentioned earlier, likely around 1995. </div><div>The setting took place in our old house. </div><div>The TV was on. </div><div>Mama, Teteh (my big sis), and I were seated around the TV but none of us was actually watching it. </div><div>We were busy talking to each other. </div><div>I was sipping Milo milk from my red glass, while Teteh was in tears because she wanted to drink the milk from her baby bottle. </div><div>Mama didn't let her do so... Instead, she suggested that Teteh needed to learn from me,</div><div>“Look at Ena. She could drink it from a glass. You could, too.”</div><div>......which only resulted in her cries growing louder. </div><div><br /></div><div>And that was when my dad returned home from work. </div><div>When my dad opened the door, I remember I stopped drinking, placed my glass on the floor, smiled, and rushed over to my dad,</div><div>while screaming, “AYAHHHHHH!!!!!!!”</div><div>My sister did the same, behind me (of course), as she needed extra time to wipe her tears away.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>My sister and I would always eagerly greet Ayah at the doorstep every time he returned home.</div><div>It was our thing. </div><div>It was our ritual.</div></div><div>It was our special routine.</div><div>Perhaps, the reason why this remains my earliest memory is because it had been my daily tradition.</div><div><br /></div><div>We would envelop Ayah in hugs and our high-pitched voices would echo his name nonstop. </div><div>Every single night.</div><div>We never missed it.</div><div>(Later, we stopped doing that only because Ayah had retired in 2013.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Ayah's homecomings were always filled with surprises,</div><div>he always brought something home, like a token of affection.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes it was a handful of new toys purchased from some <i>pedagang asongan</i> on the trains.</div><div>Sometimes he just brought a pen with multiple colors that he stole from his office (which I loved so much!!!).</div><div>Other times, he bought some men’s tools for himself,</div><div>or a bag of pears/avocados for Mama,</div><div>or a box of martabak keju,</div><div>or a hand of bananas, </div><div>or just his bare hands. </div><div>His hands alone were, to me, precious.</div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't until my 20s that I realized Ayah's thoughtful gestures had shaped my Love Language. </div><div>Yes. My love language is Gift. </div><div><br /></div><div>Whenever I recall this very first memory of mine, tears of joy are hanging in my eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>I cannot believe that my oldest core memory was so ordinary. </div><div>It was so simple. </div><div>It was never about the fancy toys I dreamed of having as a child. No.</div><div>It was never about us having a staycation in a 5-star hotel near the beach. No.</div><div><br /></div><div>My core memory lies when my family was just living in a small rented house in a suburban city. </div><div>We were just at home that one evening in 1995;</div><div>Ayah was 37 years old.</div><div>Mama was 33 years old.</div><div>Teteh was 3 years old.</div><div>I was 2 years old.</div><div>Ayah, Mama, Teteh, and Ena.</div><div>Just the four of us. Just the right amount of love.</div><div>Perfectly ordinary. </div><div>But we were over the moon with happiness.</div><div>It was right there.</div><div>Happiness was clearly right there… in our shared togetherness.</div><div>Nothing more, nothing less. </div><div><br /></div><div>“So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?” </div>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-31697447425430162832023-03-06T05:10:00.011-08:002023-10-02T21:30:31.510-07:001 - pocket-sized poem<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One deafening cry as dawn broke the night sky,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">she began to sail through life in early July</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One couple of dark brown eyes,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">like a pool of liquid chocolate: iced</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">streaming clear water without disguise</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One delicate heart loaded with wonder,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">like rose petals in midsummer,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">blooming with thunder</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><div style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One beam of ivory skin in sight,</span></div><div style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">flashing fearlessly with all her might,</span></div><div style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">what a pure delight</span></div><div style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One pair of lips soaring laughter beyond compare,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">like a stormy symphony in the air</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One little solo warrior in the making,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">brutally breathtaking.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>--</div><div>To my sweet one-year-old self:</div><div>Today I made a little present for you and about you: one pocket-sized poem.</div><div>Your first birthday might not have been celebrated the way it should've been. </div><div>but that shouldn't stop you from believing that you are loved.</div><div>Loving you is like placing one chubby cherry on top of a black forest cake;</div><div>Loving you is easy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy birthday, onederful me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8dSX_nE1I3bmFcEQ8xEerjYDTwltT8_MYDnolHBYXV5-3WkknvRmh_l_Fh4fiR55_IP6cCWeOyTt6bpGyYZD00FPr_NGjj28_zvjpFkLKj2yb5JxucAqy_1qGbmHuuk_mX1v2gVNnVGNiJtxOs1cmypU-GxMaEUmK9z247fynTj_ccPDQd76-OWp3/s3024/1%20pocket-sized%20poem.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8dSX_nE1I3bmFcEQ8xEerjYDTwltT8_MYDnolHBYXV5-3WkknvRmh_l_Fh4fiR55_IP6cCWeOyTt6bpGyYZD00FPr_NGjj28_zvjpFkLKj2yb5JxucAqy_1qGbmHuuk_mX1v2gVNnVGNiJtxOs1cmypU-GxMaEUmK9z247fynTj_ccPDQd76-OWp3/w600-h600/1%20pocket-sized%20poem.JPG" width="600" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-76810856186006015622023-03-01T03:30:00.015-08:002023-12-18T20:02:56.936-08:000 - soundless tsunami<p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">My parents’ firstborn just turned 6 months old when my mom found out that she was pregnant again.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Well, I bet any woman would be stunned to learn that she'd be carrying one baby inside and another baby outside at the same time. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I bet my mom must be so frightened while calculating the risk of having two closely spaced kids.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I bet my mom was not mentally nor physically nor financially ready to commit herself to an unintended pregnancy.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I bet my mom was in a flood of tears because of that.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Because of me.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Because of my presence in her belly.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">My mom said she had done so many things just to perform a quote-unquote legal abortion.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">“There was this old tale saying that if I eat a large number of pineapples, it can end up to a miscarriage.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">And so, I did.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I couldn’t remember how many pineapples I chewed on a daily basis. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I also tried a dangerous exercise that involved rapid movement, like climbing the stairs as fast as I could.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">But still, nothing happened.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Once I went back to the hospital, the doctor said the baby was so strong.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">You were just as tiny as a pea but you were too strong to be defeated, Ena.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The first time I heard that story from my mom...</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">it feels like there is a sudden soundless tsunami shattering every atom of my being. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I wish it was all a lie.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I wish she was just teasing me.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I wish she could just keep it to herself for the rest of her life because gosh I <b>DID NOT</b> want to hear any of that.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I wish I was deaf.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I wish I was dead.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">My mom and dad said they decided to keep me after all as they thought,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">“Our firstborn is a girl. Fingers crossed we will have a boy this second time.”</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">My mom gave birth to me at dawn on Tuesday, July 6, 1993.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">And while my parents were favoring a son, I was born a girl.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">While writing this down,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I can't help but feel a deep, deep, deep crater of emptiness inside me.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Why on earth have I been so unwanted?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">How could my existence have been nothing but a burden to my own parents?</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I’ve been carrying this emotional baggage since I was six years old.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Right after my parents told me that story, my world began to shrink.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Without rest, I always tried to keep the pain locked away, buried deep inside where no one could see.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">But the truth was always there.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">A hurtful history I could never erase. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">A soundless tsunami that leaves imprints on my journey.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Growing up, I’ve been struggling with feelings of worthlessness.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I wondered if my parents could ever truly love me who was so unwanted from the start.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I wondered if my parents could treat me and my big sis equally.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I wondered if I was worth the try.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Through the pain that still lingers, I am determined to heal it, one of which is by writing this up. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">For I know that if I merely let this story rot in my head, it might dim my inner light.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I refused to let the darkness consume me.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Because I know that I am more than the sum of my past.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I am more than the pain that I carry on my shoulders.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Tell you what.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">That doctor was right.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I am strong.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The seed of strength has been sprouting in me...</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">since I was zero…</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">since I was just an embryo.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Having said that, I knew that there was one thing</span><span style="font-family: times;"> <u><b>my mom failed</b></u> to see.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">All this time, my mom kept telling me that I could survive in her womb only because I was so strong.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Little did she realize that I got all that power from her.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It was <i>she</i> who nourished me with many chunks of fondness and courage through the umbilical cord.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">There was a ghost of a chance I could be one strong baby in a mother’s weak body.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">There was no way it could happen just like that. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It had always been my mom who made me strong.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It had always been her who was so strong.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Looking back,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I could understand to some extent the sacrifices my mom made,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">the fear she faced, </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">the tears she both shed and held back all because of me.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I realized that I was not just an accidental pregnancy.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I realized that my existence in this world mattered.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I decided to see myself as a miracle.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">A miracle that my mom fought for, even though she was not fully aware. </span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">----</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">To my dearest Mama... </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I want you to know that despite everything that happened in our past, I love you.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I love you for your willingness to do whatever it took to bring me into this world,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">for giving me a chance to live inside you,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">for trying your best to feed me while recovering between pregnancies,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">and for telling me constantly that I am different because I am strong. </span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">If one day Allah blesses me with the opportunity to become a mother, </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I can only hope that I, at least, can be half as amazing as you are, Mama.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Mama...</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I've always been able to sense your favoritism for my big sis. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">No matter how hard I tried to impress you, I would always be your least favorite child.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">But I want you to know that I already forgave you </span><span style="font-family: times;">for that pain you didn’t mean to cause throughout my childhood...</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's okay, Mama... </span><span style="font-family: times;">I know you never did that on purpose. </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">As a grown-up woman, I'm now grateful that you told me that story from an early age.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Your willingness to open up with me about your vulnerability while carrying me inside has allowed me to see how challenging motherhood can be. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><u>Your feelings are forever valid, Ma.</u></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I shouldn't have thought that I had the right to reject how you feel about me. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">And so now I choose to embrace our story.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Thank you for being honest with me, Mama.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">"In a world of lies, you are the truth."</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihz_nZfchuxjYw4EM70tjj_4_2Ft2qscdvI-FaJ4N5Sy9yJ4l3nOSVgCgDCTcZdUFl6oX3mxGQ9u4d106hhIp9wXTw7NcvrjMhF8lEbek9VGOIKPdr_OCiy-W8LWuvQgES2qFC54FnMNgt7yATDH5Kg4P-_0atoxJc1yvQ2R-fSTEZtQrWSN8nekd/s2273/soundless%20tsunami.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2273" data-original-width="2268" height="561" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihz_nZfchuxjYw4EM70tjj_4_2Ft2qscdvI-FaJ4N5Sy9yJ4l3nOSVgCgDCTcZdUFl6oX3mxGQ9u4d106hhIp9wXTw7NcvrjMhF8lEbek9VGOIKPdr_OCiy-W8LWuvQgES2qFC54FnMNgt7yATDH5Kg4P-_0atoxJc1yvQ2R-fSTEZtQrWSN8nekd/w560-h561/soundless%20tsunami.JPG" width="560" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-81040687267333141582017-01-08T08:09:00.004-08:002023-03-06T01:05:16.105-08:00Stronger Than EverALOHA PEOPLE!!!<br />
I'M BACK!!!<br />
AND THIS TIME, I'M REALLY BACK!!!<br />
I know I had said that last year that I was gonna write again.<br />
But ughhh I got lotsa things to do because I <strike>procrastinated and missed my own to-do-list</strike> was a hard worker.<br />
But now I'm really back!<br />
I know, I know no one cares about this blog and about my writing.<br />
But I really need to keep writing or else... I'll be dumber than I'm now.<br />
And I know basically I just post to please my ego, as for me, the point of posting is to make myself happy.<br />
You got it?<br />
Ok, I know I just wrote mountains of crap in this paragraph (with no train of thought, too) so lemme just cut the opening off.<br />
<br />
Last week (July 6, 2016) ON EID AL-FITR DAY, I TURNED TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD!<br />
What a holy coincidence!<br />
<br />
Nothing<br />
---------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
Ok, so that was the draft I stored in the draft 6 months ago. (I know I wrote the word draft 2 times and I. Do. Not. Care.)<br />
I couldn't remember why I didn't finish writing that post. I can't even remember what I was going to write after the word "Nothing".<br />
Maybe it really is nothing. Just maybe.<br />
<br />
In the year of 2016, I feel like I was stronger than ever, both mentally and physically.<br />
But since this is the first post in 2017, lemme start with something else.<br />
<br />
For this past one week, I've been redecorating this blog.<br />
I didn't change the header. It's been like that for almost 3 years, and I still love it.<br />
But I started to make categories and I'll explain about that in a whole different post because that's the biggest change I've made so far.<br />
Hahkwhkwhkahak gajelas anyink. Yauda segitu ajadaaaa gw gatauk mau nulis apaan lagi sumpeh susu tumpehAnisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-46820217562856872962016-10-03T03:28:00.002-07:002020-03-24T00:45:17.228-07:00Hari Ini<div style="color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXe6kdfUHkRXE3skmA4faEz10IVHoZb385jkusG8wFhLtAW6IU1qStiJtjdog-oQgpc7gRaEsRV2Nw_LS91JdfuDohXQ_z4JRvKf4JPwhnH5ls-kb_45qCrG0NSgH9bZhlGNYQk5GPpgs/s1600/IMG_9524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXe6kdfUHkRXE3skmA4faEz10IVHoZb385jkusG8wFhLtAW6IU1qStiJtjdog-oQgpc7gRaEsRV2Nw_LS91JdfuDohXQ_z4JRvKf4JPwhnH5ls-kb_45qCrG0NSgH9bZhlGNYQk5GPpgs/s640/IMG_9524.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(My very first poem in Bahasa. I made this only in 10 minutes)</span></div>
Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-70815399101091611792016-09-02T10:21:00.000-07:002020-03-24T00:50:49.361-07:00Infidelity<div class="MsoNormal">
The issue that I’m about to bring up in this post is... infidelity. To be really honest, it always makes me wince every time I hear, see, talk about, or watch anything related to that (and I might be the only one person who cried really hard while watching The Intern).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know how many people have done that. What I know for sure is that it happens everywhere and to everyone. Some happen to ‘take part’ as the doers while the rest are just the doers’ preys.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
According to the internet (sorry, these lazy pants of mine are just so comfy that I don’t feel like putting the APA citation in these brackets or in the other brackets you might find in this writing), here goes the history about infidelity:<o:p></o:p></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"The word infidelity actually comes from the word infidel,
which means someone who has betrayed or been unfaithful to their religion. It can also simply mean someone who generally
lacks faith. Over time, infidelity began
to take on a new meaning, and rather than meaning one who has lost his or her
faith, it has become symbolic of one who is not faithful to their spouse or
lost faith in their marriage.<br />
Today, infidelity is one of the number one leading causes
of divorce worldwide. Since the time of
the Holy Bible, infidelity has been mentioned. Abraham and Jacob were both written in the Bible as being
unfaithful husbands.<br />
Infidelity has been written about in literature for many
centuries. From the classic plays of
William Shakespeare, to the modern works of Arthur Miller, cheating husbands
and wives give creative artists much more ideas to develop drama and fodder for
exciting plots. Movies have always used
infidelity as a way to create an exciting film, and often murder or other
devious deeds ensue.”</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
See. It’s everywhere. And I can bet that you have more than five relatives/friends who once were or still are cheaters.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Or probably you yourself are/were also a cheater?)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
K. Now let’s just go to the core problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><b><br /></b></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">WHY DID THAT HAPPEN? WHY DOES THAT HAPPEN? WHY IS IT HAPPENING?</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reasons always vary. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Some of the cheaters will say that they are just bored with the relationships that they want to get out of but they can’t.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Some say that their partners are too protective; they just want to feel free like <a href="https://www.google.co.id/search?q=syahrini+i+feel+free&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi_kd7NlfHOAhWFsI8KHQG8CFoQ_AUICCgB&biw=1366&bih=643">Syahrini</a>.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Some people still think cheating is just one of their prerogatives as an unmarried person before finding and finally choosing the one.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Some quotes say as if it's because the cheaters just don’t love the partners anymore: “If you really loved her, you wouldn’t have been able to cheat on her. Because she would’ve been in the back of your mind the whole time. It would kill you to hurt her like that. Because if you really loved her, you would know. You would know the nights she would curl up in a ball next to her pillow at night, wondering why the hell she wasn’t good enough.” (WEYYY INI QUOTES ATAU ANTRIAN CHATTIME, PANJANG AMAT).</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">ETC (et cetera)</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">EGP (emang gw pikirin, boam sama alesan orang-orang)</span></li>
</ul>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, here’s one thing that I want to shout to the world: <i>THOSE ARE JUST ARBITRARY REASONS</i>. They are non-sense. They’ll just tell you the fibs because they don’t want to look/sound unreasonable. It’s also one of their self-defenses for justifying things they knew were wrong but they did it anyway. So please, just keep in mind that:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cheating does not have anything to do with the love itself. It is not the kind of an unrequited love. No. If your partner cheats on you, it’s not because they don’t love you anymore or they don’t love you as much as you love them.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It’s not because of you. “Don’t let someone who did you wrong makes you think there’s something wrong with you. Don’t devalue yourself because they didn’t value you. Know your worth even if they don’t”.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">It is not because of the drabber relationship. It is not about the sparks that are no longer there.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B._J._Habibie">B.J. Habibie</a> once wrote in his book to his wife who just passed away, “Mana mungkin aku setia padahal memang kecenderunganku adalah mendua, tapi kau ajarkan aku kesetiaan, sehingga aku setia”. This supports all of my arguments above in some ways. And I guess Pak Habibie and I are on the same page about cheating. </span>I also believe that the temptations are always in and around us. Both the possibility and the opportunity for humans to cheat are so clear and present. To cut everything short, I see that the most reasonable root why someone cheats is:</li>
<ul>
<li><u><i>They just cannot fight back the temptations to cheat.</i></u></li>
</ul>
</ul>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">HOW DO I KNOW THAT I’VE BEEN CHEATED ON?</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">If you suspect your partner is cheating on you, you are probably right. I personally believe we all have a natural power that allows us to see the truth even when we have neither evidence nor a slight indication.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">So, at the time you see that your partner is slipping away from you and doesn’t act naturally, check. If it’s hard to check them in the offline world, it’ll be easier if you start checking their social media. If you’re lucky, you’ll get the proofs there. If you’re not lucky, still, DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON THE RED SIGNALS GOD’S TRYING TO GIVE YOU. Keep your eyes on your partner but don't let them sense that you're watching them attentively. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">But please highlight that you can <i>suudzon</i> to your partner only if you smell the smokes.</span></li>
</ul>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">HOW IF I ALREADY KNEW I AM THE VICTIM?</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So once you know you’ve been cheated on and you’ve got the proofs on your sides, think about these:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"> </span>If they did that unintentionally and you know CLEARLY that it happened ONE TIME ONLY, then just forgive them. Everyone has mistakes. But please, track your partner’s past. Make sure it is just a mistake, not a pattern.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"> </span>If that happened two times, ask yourself: is it actually what's in their baggage but you don’t know or you ignore that? If yes, understand that you're no God that could utter the mantra “kun fayakun” then you could get rid of that particular habit in your partner's life. You know, cheating is mostly, typically, normally not an impulse. It is a sheer habit. And that particular habit, tell you the bitter truth, is enduring. It occurs periodically. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto;">
Anything could trigger your partner to repeat what they ever did, even when they’ve been sorry about their own behavior at the moment they are sane. So, if they did it two times, then I’m pretty sure that the cheating habit already lives in a dormant state of their very soul and you will get hurt again in the future as the habit is still alive and is just sleeping for a period of time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"> </span>If they did it more than 3,4, or 5 times or 10 times, and you already knew that it’s been in their baggage, leave them as soon as possible, not as soon as you’re ready, because you’ll most probably never be ready to bow out, especially when you already get used to their behavior and you are moved with their promises saying that they want to change. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">“BUT I LOVE HIM/HER. I STILL WANT TO GIVE IT ANOTHER SHOT!”</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To reconcile will always be your choice. But you’ve got to know the actualities about that problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l2 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">If after all those times, you still wanna stick with your partner, thinking that you can forgive him/her because that shows how much you love him/her, sorry but I guess it’s not love. It's just you being delusional. You probably still have hopes that their apologies and their promises could fix you, while they actually can’t. You’re just living in denial. You know they can never withdraw what they did. You know the pain will stay with you till the end of time. You know unloading cheating habit from its owner is impossible. You know “you cannot be fixed by the same person who broke you”. You know no matter how sweet they treat you when they apologize for what they’ve done to you, how serious they could be when they promise they will change, or even how often they go in purgatory... they will never change and that also means: you will fall to the same pool of pain of being cheated on in no time. Because NOTHING will quench cheaters' thirst of the pleasures they’ve got from cheating.</span></li>
</ul>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">STOP TRYING TO FIX THE RELATIONSHIP AND YOUR PARTNER.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">JUST LEAVE AND FIX YOURSELF. </span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Settle down. It's okay to break down in tears. You've got plenty of time to accept the wound. Don't try to heal the wound for it cannot be healed with anything. The scars will stay in your life. Just accept, forgive, and let go of it. And you also need to forgive yourself for letting your own self feel the same pain over and over again.</li>
<li>Sometimes, you’ll be depressed and will start to compare yourself to the ones that your partners cheated with, but trust me, you’re way better than those people. The fact that they were willing to be the “selingkuhan” somehow reveals that they are just as disgusting as the cheaters. “Honesty is a very expensive gift. Don’t expect it from cheap people.”</li>
</ul>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">HOW TO AVOID THIS KIND OF S#IT IN THE FUTURE?</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l2 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Check the baggage BEFORE you make your commitment with a person. In the beginning of your relationship, you might think that cheating habit in the baggage doesn’t weigh you down; that you’re okay with that kind of baggage because it is just a baggage and everyone has it. But, believe me, it doesn't make you worry because you just haven't hit the ground yet, but you will. So, as you see that cheating is a revolving habit, I suggest you to just cut the special bond with the person who used to cheat.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I wish you good luck and happiness in your love life! *lovestruck*</span></li>
</ul>
Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-14117502783602948042016-09-01T04:21:00.001-07:002023-02-28T21:03:09.161-08:00(Another) Hello!It’s been more than a year since I left this blog.<br />
Now I’m
coming back bringing a new form of myself, the brand-new life in it, and the
way I'm letting you in.<br />
<i>Enjoy.</i>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-78927223449969639362015-08-11T07:28:00.002-07:002023-02-28T20:51:34.750-08:00Di Kelas 2<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Gw: "What's wrong with your eyes?"</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Asita: "Ini karena orientasi"</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Gw: "Hah? Kamu dipukulin orang? Orientasi di mana? Taekwondo?"</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Asita "Mmm... Maksud aku iritasi"</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Gw: "......" (nahan ketawa)</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Asita: "Aku susah bedainnya soalnya mirip"</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div>
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Gw: "Please sit nicely and smile"</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Oliver: "Miss Ena! Aku tau lanjutannya apa!"</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Gw: "Iya apa, Oli?"</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Oliver: "Stay hungry, be sexy, and get lady" (dengan suara sok merayu)</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Gw: "........." <img alt="😩" class="CToWUd" goomoji="1f629" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/e/1f629" style="margin: 0px 0.2ex; max-height: 24px; vertical-align: middle;" /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-4937557788145202672015-08-10T21:16:00.000-07:002019-07-21T02:45:10.066-07:00f e a rFlagging the current in the sea<br />
Embracement is what we need deeply<br />
Although now you put that paddle down<br />
Row the boat alone, I still look for our sunAnisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-53528001936984062742015-08-09T21:47:00.000-07:002019-07-21T02:45:10.114-07:00Hello!(isn't that greeting lame & awkward?)<br />
Okay. I've honestly been staring at my laptop screen for more than 3 minutes, thinking about how I should start with this post for this obsolete blog all over again. I actually had made this blog in 2008 when I was still <strike>in senior high school</strike> stupid, mushy, and impulsive. I'm not saying that this time I'm one of those knights errant. No. Big no. But I strongly believe that I am now better than who I was years ago. So please just forgive me for delivering you all this pointless post and that mind-numbing greeting.<br />
Today is actually one of those rotten days I've been dealing with myself. Lately, I just realized that my routine is remarkably lethal it's gonna kill me, mentally.<br />
I swear to God I need something fresh, something that can make me feel renewed, something that can put a big smile on my face, something that can infuse me with joy and spirit.<br />
But............. what???<br />
I've already got everything I need. I know I should feel blessed for that, but... still, I couldn't keep myself off from the fact that I'm really bored with my own life.<br />
Gak tau harus apa. Huam. Bosen. Bye!Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-19766495957017334382015-01-02T08:46:00.000-08:002019-07-21T02:45:09.883-07:002014I dedicated this post to these 3 types of people in my life.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Never forget 3 types of people in your life:<br />
1. Who helped you in your difficult times.<br />
2. Who left you in your difficult times.<br />
3. Who put you in difficult times."</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>1.</b></i></span><br />
Dear people who gave me big hands during the worst days of my life in 2009, 2011, and 2013...<br />
<div>
Thank you.</div>
<div>
Thank you. </div>
<div>
Thank you.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I should've said it earlier, but I don't know why...</div>
<div>
at that time I couldn't feel the affection people transferred to me.<br />
at that time I couldn't believe that those nice things you all did were a sincere generosity.</div>
<div>
at that time I couldn't believe in myself.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Leaving me to doubt</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Talk about God and His mercy</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>For if He really does exist</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Why did He desert me?</i><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Alone Again Naturally - Gilbert O'Sullivan)</span></div>
<div>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span> <span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span> <span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">In those years, everything looked ugly.</span><br />
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">I complained to God so often. I even blamed Him.</span><br />
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">I locked myself in my bedroom to avoid my family. </span><br />
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">I stayed away from my friends. </span><br />
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">I even unconsciously divorced my own soul from my body. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I can't love, shot full of holes</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Don't feel nothing, I just feel cold</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Don't feel nothing, just old scars</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Toughening up around my heart</i><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(I Want Love - Elton John)</span></div>
<br />
<br />
But since 2014, my life is getting better.<br />
So much better than I could ever imagine how life should be. </div>
<div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Nothing like the life I've led so far</i><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(For The First Time In Forever - OST Frozen)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Since 2014, I can't stop thanking the Maker of this whole universe for everything He gives me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Even for those difficulties I suffered from. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And amazingly, in 2014, I only cried two times!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (^o^)/</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, again, my dearest friends and family, thank you. I owe you all happiness!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b>2.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Dear people who left me when I needed you, hasta la vista.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But thank you for coming!!! (^o^)/</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b>3.</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Dear people who put me in those difficult times, thank you.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"You have shown me exactly who I don't wanna be". Be like you.</div>
</div>
Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-50105653419548854272014-12-02T21:29:00.002-08:002019-07-21T02:45:10.090-07:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6pddBPIhLQcr8NXc6fDHqiVEMKXw5vnsqyXyE0zeDXjpd9LMHEzzUf5Ns6JGOCfJyJ-6b0NGB_hjgutKvHciF-quQhxnrg_SIRDK7hn40bf35lLybEjGA1JarExJi2xGolZ3w9CsOZw/s1600/Poem+-+Fall.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="593" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6pddBPIhLQcr8NXc6fDHqiVEMKXw5vnsqyXyE0zeDXjpd9LMHEzzUf5Ns6JGOCfJyJ-6b0NGB_hjgutKvHciF-quQhxnrg_SIRDK7hn40bf35lLybEjGA1JarExJi2xGolZ3w9CsOZw/s640/Poem+-+Fall.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: right;">I don't mind getting a lot of bruises if the feelings of falling are this soothing.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<br />
P.S.: This poem is still fresh from the oven. I made it before going to bed last night.Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-65278813732993701492014-12-01T18:16:00.000-08:002019-07-21T02:45:10.164-07:00What? Wait. What?<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"If there are words</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">clawing at your insides,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">begging to be heard,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">put them down on paper,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and give them to the world."</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />
This is surely contradictory to my previous post.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'm thinking about it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">
I might post something again. Or not. We'll see.</span>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-22163841620430982222014-11-25T06:48:00.000-08:002019-07-21T02:45:09.922-07:00Apparently...<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I just came to realize that...</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">the world doesn't need to know the feelings living beneath my skin or the thoughts spinning round under my skull.</span></b>Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-64141093657271600332014-11-19T06:13:00.000-08:002019-07-21T02:45:10.140-07:00Today's HeadlineThis is today's top headline which made me really happy.<br />
<h2 style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 42px; margin: 0px 0px 2px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-spacing: -1px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://asiancorrespondent.com/128399/indonesia-jakarta-gets-first-christian-governor-in-50-years/">Jakarta gets first Christian governor in 50 years</a></span></h2>
<br />
Two days ago, I mentioned something related to that news in my Nation & Nationalism class.<br />
I told the class that the only thing, which is actually the most vital thing, I (/we) didn't learn back then in school was tolerance.<br />
Especially, religious tolerance.<br />
Didn't mean to sound arrogant, but I did learn it on my own while my surroundings (my school teachers & my parents) taught me the other way around.<br />
My religion teachers at school always told me that all Christians would go to hell that we (Muslim) should have been thankful for not being part of them, which then made me look at my Christian friends differently for a long period of time. Because of that as well, I even used to think their lives weren't as sacred as mine.<br />
My parents never allowed me to date a Christian. I never know their exact reasons, but they were really angry once they knew I dated Christians twice.<br />
Yes. I dated Christians twice, one of whom was totally intolerant with my religious preference.<br />
He, more than one time, convinced me that his god was much better than mine.<br />
I used to think he was such a pathetic boy before realizing that it wasn't all his fault for being such a bigot actually.<br />
It's the society's fault for making him, my school teachers, my parents (& us) become like that.<br />
I know that putting all the blame on the society will not bring any kind of peace in this world.<br />
But that's the truth I can tell you now from my perspective.<br />
The society always tells children that everybody is unique. That each of us is different.<br />
But none of them tells us about how to deal with those differences.<br />
How to deal with Christians; a guide for Muslims.<br />
How to deal with homosexuals; a guide for heterosexuals.<br />
How to deal with disabled people; a guide for normal people.<br />
How to deal with the poor; a guide for the rich.<br />
All in all, it's indeed about how the majority deals with the minority.<br />
According to some friends of mine's confession in the class, I can conclude that the minority doesn't urgently need to learn from the start about how to deal with those kind of things cause they know it already. In other words, it is the the majority who should start learning about tolerance. This might sound like an overgeneralization, but, again, that's just my thought.<br />
If you don't agree and can't find the similarity between our notion, can you deal with that?Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-27522129525451264822014-11-18T07:58:00.001-08:002019-07-21T02:45:10.016-07:00As far as I see...<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m now in the middle of doing nothing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And by nothing, I
mean my academic journal, which is more like an undergraduate thesis, but way shorter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I’m bored. And I’m stuck behind the desk. And I’ve read almost all posts
from buzzfeed, my current favorite website.<br />
And I don’t know what I have to do
now with my life. Don’t encourage me to see the better life I would have if I
could finish my academic journal cause it isn’t gonna workkkghghghkqkqkq on
mehhhwhwh.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seriously, life no longer looked interesting to me at all............................ until about 10 minutes ago I googled the name I made in 2009 for my future
daughter. (Oh yes, I do literally count my chickens before they are hatched). It brought a smile on my face cause its meaning is somewhat cool!<br />
You know I’ve always wanted to name my daughter Leffie. Most of my friends said that it sounds like a dog’s name, but whatever.<br />
I used to think it doesn't have any meaning since it's not that kind of name you can find in holy bibles. But this one somehow convinced me that I made a right decision to make Leffie as the name for my daughter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>"Someone who is really
obsessive but fabulous and just loves indie & alternative bands while being
really tall." </i>(Urban Dict, 2009)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The name Leffie is actually Eiffel spelled backwards. I made that for the sake of my love to Eiffel tower. In my thought, I always see/imagine it as the most beautiful
place in the whole world. Never been there but I know it really is beautiful. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, that’s all I can blabber on about my future daughter’s
name. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now what?</div>
Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-24797056705566566962014-11-02T07:10:00.000-08:002019-07-21T02:45:09.950-07:00Blah blah blahGak kerasa udah bulan November aja. Taun depan udah 2015. Taun depan gw lulus kuliah.<br />
Emejink.<br />
Lulus kuliah....<br />
Buset gak kebayang banget gw pake toga abis itu udah... Kerja...<br />
Gw gak pernah nyangka gw beneran udah mau lulus.<br />
Sedih sih karena gw tau gw masih bego dan belum punya banyak temen.<br />
Padahal pas masuk kuliah dulu janji sama diri sendiri kalo mau lulus harus pinter dulu.<br />
Tapi jadi pinter tuh susah banget kenapa ya??? (Nanya begini aja bikin gw makin keliatan bego pfttt)<br />
Btw gw akhirnya potong rambut lagiiii. Padahal pengen sekali-kali punya rambut panjang.<br />
Tapi gerah banget. Tapi seneng juga karena akhirnya kalo ketemu temen "Ena rambutnya udah panjang aja". Biasanya kan "Ena rambutnya gak panjang-panjang".<br />
Gw sebenernya bersyukur banget selama kuliah ini gw dapet tawaran ngajar dimana-mana.<br />
Tapi kadang suka mikir sendiri, sebenernya gw bisa gak sih jadi guru?<br />
Jadi ragu sendiri.<br />
Kadang kalo ngeliat murid LBI gw ngelamun di kelas, gw suka sedih.<br />
Gw yang gagal jadi guru atau mereka yang emang gak niat belajar ya?<br />
Kadang kepikiran buat nyari kerjaan selain jadi guru.<br />
Jadi apakek.Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-7407873757254281852014-07-12T13:48:00.006-07:002023-02-28T20:51:24.413-08:00SholatDua hari yang lalu, tetangga gw ada yang meninggal.<br />
<div>
Almarhum tetangga gw ini punya dua anak. Anaknya yang paling kecil masih TK.</div>
<div>
Pas anak itu ngeliat Papanya meninggal terus disholatin, dia bilang:</div>
<div>
"Mama, ngapain sih Papa udah meninggal kok disholatin? Orang Papa aja pas masih hidup gak pernah sholat".</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
...</div>
<div>
...</div>
<div>
...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Berkat anak itu, gw sekarang jadi semangat buat sholat 5 waktu.</div>
<div>
Told you what, (to me), children are THAT amazing.</div>
Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-48713786850414580142014-02-23T00:09:00.000-08:002019-07-21T02:45:47.659-07:00The Way I Love You<div class="Section1">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
A Year Ago</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="Section2">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love</span>d<span lang="IN"> you like the way a baby loves crying</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love</span>d<span lang="IN"> you like the way The Little Prince loves travelling</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved you like the way a student loves yawning<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love</span>d<span lang="IN"> you like the way Tyler Durden loves fighting</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved you like the way the stars love sparkling<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love</span>d<span lang="IN"> you like the way Adam and Eve love</span>d<span lang="IN"> apple</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love</span>d<span lang="IN"> you like the way a priest loves bible</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love</span>d<span lang="IN"> you like the way French loves Eiffel</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love</span>d <span lang="IN">you like the way a naughty kid loves pebble</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved you like the way Queen loves bicycle</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love you like the way a beach loves summer</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love you like the way Hogwarts loves Harry Potter</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love you like the way a lecturer loves paper</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love you like the way Hachiko loves his master</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I love you like the way a princess loves mirror</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tomorrow<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I </span>will <span lang="IN">love you like the way Tintin loves Snowy</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I </span>will <span lang="IN">love you like the way a worker loves coffee</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I </span>will <span lang="IN">love you like the way Don Jon loves pornography </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I </span>will <span lang="IN">love you like the way</span><span lang="IN"> </span><span lang="IN">a scientist loves theory</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="IN">I </span>will <span lang="IN">love you like the way Mickey loves Minnie</span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="Section3">
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A year ago, yesterday, today, tomorrow, and after all<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="IN">I love you like the way I love you when I love you</span></div>
</div>
Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-79801018542656866632013-11-11T05:41:00.004-08:002023-02-28T21:44:07.378-08:00Tadi siang, di Kansas...Gw: "Bang, good bye cappuccino-nya satu ya"<br />
Abangnya: "........"<br />
Gw: "..........."<br />
Abangnya: "........"<br />
Gw: "Maksudnya Good Day capuccino, bang."<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8966921639724085204.post-57845927723245530282013-11-09T09:54:00.001-08:002019-07-21T02:45:47.733-07:00New vs OldZelamat malam pemirsaaaaaaah yang budiman, berbudi dan beriman!<br />
Gak kerasa nih udah mau abis aja tahun 2013.<br />
Edan.<br />
Sekarang, kayaknya waktu udah gak berjalan lagi.<br />
Waktu berlari. #saelah #kentut<br />
<br />
Di awal tahun 2013, gw & Yogi (sahabat gw dari SD) sebenernya udah berniat mau jalan-jalan ke museum-museum di Jakarta.<br />
Tapi gak sempet karena ina inu, & Yogi pun keburu pulang ke Surabaya (doski kuliah di sana).<br />
Akhirnya, kami cuma sempet ke Monas.<br />
<br />
Rencananya, sebelum 2013 berakhir, gw pengen banget ngelunasin semua resolusi yang di awal tahun pernah gw bikin.<br />
Salah satunya ya jalan-jalan ke museum.<br />
<br />
Teruzhhh, karena gw juga emang lagi pengen nyari suasana baru, gw berniat ganti nama & header blog.<br />
Sebenernya kalo diinget-inget lagi, udah lama banget gw mainan blog.<br />
Dari pertengahan 2008 sampe udah mau 2014.<br />
Pas gw lagi bongkar-bongkar folder foto, gw baru inget dulu header pertama yang gw bikin tuh ini:<img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqZW08KU_gQ6raYnAmHouBjpBZFd8fHDqrwm1XZgcQyT3Jn-d7oJ_KfdR4oYMyu_HjLztfvV-2pFeKuF_5nRC17So_6Uc99XBAYUH96WebIARmHL4BSWE0g5HQpfJYjdpOSTwgQiOjJ4/s640/ENNA+SUI.JPG" width="640" /><br />
Enna Sui.<br />
Iya! Iya! Emang alay banget! Sok-sok-an melesetin Anna Sui.<br />
Huft.<br />
Mana slogannya "express my emotions". -___-<br />
Tapi header ini gak berlangsung lama, cuma sekitar sebulan kayaknya.<br />
<br />
Dulu (sampe sekarang sih), karena gw suka banget gambar-gambar yang bernuansa jadul, jadilah header ini di awal tahun 2009.<br />
Dan waktu itu emang udah kepengen dengan nama blog "Whatever". Biar saik jaeee~<br />
<img border="0" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEcgzJQ5S8IZ7ZttLsEQ0yZvDAbsJfp0fwPP19_-l4XGhQnHXaUZrzXMcpvpNXyXD3Aej_FLKaSGUduZXSmWOIgY8S0dZTOObl3fyPno9vUrec7W1IaQREKAG1fdven4Q5osfErbcBuNI/s640/1.JPG" width="640" /><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqZW08KU_gQ6raYnAmHouBjpBZFd8fHDqrwm1XZgcQyT3Jn-d7oJ_KfdR4oYMyu_HjLztfvV-2pFeKuF_5nRC17So_6Uc99XBAYUH96WebIARmHL4BSWE0g5HQpfJYjdpOSTwgQiOjJ4/s1600/ENNA+SUI.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>Tapi header ini juga cuma bertahan 1 hari karena kurang sreg & emang belom selesai juga; gw gak niat bikin.<br />
<br />
Sampe akhirnya, di pertengahan tahun 2009, gw kepengen banget punya header yang di dalem tulisannya ada foto gw.<br />
Wakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakak! #keselekbiji #bijiduren<br />
Iya. Senarsis itu ya. Biarin deh.<br />
Terus minta tolong Mutia buat mewujudkan ide gw tersebut.<br />
<br />
(Foto harus gw hapus karena saat itu gw belum pake kerudung)<br />
<br />
Dulu susah bray bikin beginian di sotosop bisa 3 jam.<br />
Sekarang mah aplikasi di smartphone bisa bikin hal serupa dalam waktu sekejap saja! #huft<br />
<br />
Terus, di bulan September 2009, gw ganti blog, ke blog yang sekarang ini.<br />
Dan gw bikin sendiri header baru lagi.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKeqlER1JiS6_ZOMO1og6L7acif-lM64oIPo9CQ41LZVVIxo3GaaXamTXwrnyYjEWqIYPg-kfaxfQgw_ZNxujOdnY30bQUYO1mwL8Ol_Pp1XgvTyduYsTj8O2RKJfqugs9QqwDSGrvR0/s1600/I'm+Free+to+Write+Whatever+I+Like.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKeqlER1JiS6_ZOMO1og6L7acif-lM64oIPo9CQ41LZVVIxo3GaaXamTXwrnyYjEWqIYPg-kfaxfQgw_ZNxujOdnY30bQUYO1mwL8Ol_Pp1XgvTyduYsTj8O2RKJfqugs9QqwDSGrvR0/s640/I'm+Free+to+Write+Whatever+I+Like.bmp" width="640" /></a><br />
Kalo yang ini emang masa dimana puncak-puncak kelabilan Ena Djuanda Cihuahua sedang berkobar di udara!<br />
Nulis seenak jidat. Ngamuk kalo ada yang copy-paste tulisan/foto.<br />
Sekarang mah kalo ada yang mau ambil tulisan/foto gw silahkan bae. Gak peduli, buaji~<br />
<br />
Akhirnya, setelah bosen dengan kelabilan gw sendiri, sekitar bulan November 2011, gw ganti header lagi.<br />
Dan ganti nama jadi Breathe Think Write.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz38tl2bZp6PEDulSITkg1S6-bBziAf1PouvrOvQQjl-_wg8Uy8-Dyq_J6xFbqHV7ZeYkuJkqkOCn94lLCsX592hHxhAtSxoUO3ylY4c2k60Y9MrQzBSne0poo9Ir156QH3lk5mVJYgmc/s1600/Breath+Think+Write.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz38tl2bZp6PEDulSITkg1S6-bBziAf1PouvrOvQQjl-_wg8Uy8-Dyq_J6xFbqHV7ZeYkuJkqkOCn94lLCsX592hHxhAtSxoUO3ylY4c2k60Y9MrQzBSne0poo9Ir156QH3lk5mVJYgmc/s640/Breath+Think+Write.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
Fyi aja, ini header dibikin di paint karena laptop gw waktu itu gak ada sotosop.<br />
Nah, rencananya, sebelum 2014, gw mau ganti header lagi karena yang ini kayaknya terlalu mellow.<br />
Tapi belum kepikiran mau ganti jadi apaan.<br />
Terus, sebelum 2014, gw juga mau ngeluarin beberapa draft yang udah lama gw tulis.<br />
<br />
Jadi, mari bantu gw berdoa semoga semua rencana-rencana kecil sebelum tahun baru ini bisa terpenuhi! :-)Anisa Fajrina Djuanda (Ena)http://www.blogger.com/profile/12560874471327961267noreply@blogger.com0