The strange tradition

Recently my cousin balked at me. She couldn't believe that I'm not watching the Heroes episodes she gave me. She really wanted me to catch up to her so that we can discuss it together. I told her, wait, until Easter. She rolled her eyes to say, you're nuts. Why? I'm giving up watching DVDs, I said, you know, for Lent. Her eyes rolled again. You're weird, she said this time. I smiled. Couldn't disagree there.

I didn't try to convey to her that in some bizarre way, this is good for me. This is essential. For centuries now Christians have observed Lent, the 40 days of fasting to anticipate (the celebration of) Jesus' resurrection. We choose something from which to abstain during these 40 days in order to proclaim: I am under the law of freedom. This thing, whatever it is I am giving up for 40 days, does not own me, does not lord over me; Jesus does. I don't need it. Going without it will say to me (and to whoever is listening/watching): Jesus triumphs over the world.

And so, I gave up watching DVDs - alone (so it's okay to be in a viewing party). And reading - alone. By giving up something that takes up your time, it means some other times are freed - what do you do with it? When I find myself reaching for a book, I go toward my Bible instead, or my computer, to journal or to write e-mails to friends. When I'm bored (unemployed as I am) the easiest thing would be to pop in a DVD and veg. Instead, I reach for my phone to call a friend, or go run errands with my aunt.

See, I just closed a huge chapter of my life and I'm in mourning. When I'm stressed out, depressed, sad, etc. I drown out these emotions by numbing them, fill my head with something, anything else. Also, I want to shut people out because all they do is bug (not true but this is my depression talking). Finally, I tell myself and everyone, I'm okay. But you know, I'm not.

I will be, though, I know I will be. Because Jesus is alive. He comes to rescue me.

And so, this tradition is strange, crucial, and powerful. People will roll their eyes at you but that's not what you should be worried about. This might change you. At least I pray so.

That said, I really do want to watch Heroes - and how sweet will that be. So come, Resurrection Sunday!

A lesson in perspective - again

Coming to the end of a chapter always makes one look back and wonder, What kind of year has it been?

At dinner one night my friend P said he was looking through his journal and thought, what a bad year. My friend S wisely rebutted: “Well, maybe it’s because you only write on your journal when something bad happens.” You could tell P took a step back in his head. Other friends at the table started to rattle off:

S: You got a cool new car!
F: and you learned to drive stick on it! J taught you.
A: You got into two really bad car accidents and nothing to show for it except for one scar on your arm and a sore rib.
F: You got promoted at work
P: oh yeah… I didn’t write about that one…
P: … and Costa Rica was good.
E: yeah! See?
P: And I didn’t die.

And that’s what friends are for.

Happy Birthday, P. Thanks for lettin' me drive your car. And for Sokol. And for noodles. And for hiking trips. And for sangria. And for calling me. And for much more to come.

Aspirations

When we were schoolchildren, my friends and I had an autograph book we passed around to one another. We'd spend a good few days writing in our pertinent information (zodiac sign, date/place of birth, favorite color, favorite TV show, etc.), pasting in our best photo, decorating and personalizing it for the owner of the book (SARAH. S = Super. A = A little crazy. R = Rrrrandom!... and so on. Sorry Sar you're the first name I thought of).

I ran across mine the other day. One thing caught my eye: "Aspirations." Lawyers, teachers, doctors, architects - mostly a slew of solid, canned answers. What do you expect of grade-schoolers, anyway?

But really. Seriously. In our heart of hearts, as kids, who did we all really want to be?!

I think it's revealed in who you choose to be during role-playing at recess. We all wanted to be somebody. And it wasn't a lawyer. Or a doctor.

But, yes. A super-hero.

Or just a hero, no super-powers (we don't need 'em) who basically can kick butt and save the world from evil alien invasions with my mad martial arts skills and intricate weaponry. And a band of compadres to fight evil with me, of course, because that's just a lot more fun. My crime-fighting friends (or in many cases, cousins) and I would live together in our sophisticated safe haven ready to answer the call of duty anytime. Life would not be easy of course, but heck, it is a calling, not a choice! And we'd have the theme song for everytime we beat the bad guys.

Then, before you know it, "let's pretend" days are over. So one abandons childish fantasies, inventories one's strengths and assets to pursue something that will put food on the table. In my case I went to high school abroad, then to university to major in Communications, then to Los Angeles to pursue the entertainment thing and end up in advertising instead.

Somehow, I grew up.

Or have I?

I still think there are people to be rescued. I still want to live with my friends and partner with them. I still want to fight evil, alien or otherwise. And you may laugh, but I still get giddy at the thought.

So maybe I haven't grown up. And I kinda don't want to. And even better: I no longer have to pretend.

The Institution of Divorce

My friend RK and I had a 2.5 hr lunch yesterday at a fine establishment in Kemang, Jakarta. We've been friends for 11 years, though for the entire time never really lived in the same city. So we catch up and hang out whenever we cross paths, like in yesterday's case. We met through our parents. Quite common in the small bigness of Jakarta. You'd meet a person your age and chances are your uncle dated his uncle's second wife. Seriously. (My other friend E, when I introduced him to RK, remarked: oooh, you, yes, your dad dated my mom when they were younger! Funny stuff)

He had a lot of things to share and so did I; the funny thing is our views and news were drastically different. He had just broken off a 3-yr relationship in which he spent the last 8-9 months debating how to tell her he's done. His father and stepmom (wife #4 or something like that) had recently separated and things sounded bad. He needed to unload a lot of other stuff as well but we understandably spent a lot of time in the relationships department.

Waiting around for my cousin to pick me up we stood by the entrance, I said:
"I think marriage is highly unattractive. Don't you?"
"Why?"
"Because. It's so hard. Supposed to be for the rest of your life?"
"No, no, no. Don't put that much pressure on it. I believe in divorce. Don't be crazy."

RK typically says remarkable (or at least funny) stuff like that. Still, this one made me stop. I had no real comeback, instead just watched him go on about prenuptial agreements, child support, timing to have kids, etc. My ride came, we hugged our byes, promised to chat again soon. Off he went to hail a cab.

So much swirled about my head afterward I'm not sure what to put down. And yet, these thoughts on the institution of marriage seem trivial. No. Naive at best.

I just know that I was sad that day.