Thank you*

Guru Nanak said, ‘Without a Guru none can cross over to the other shore.’ I would like to express my gratitude to my supervisors, Philip Kitley and Mark McLelland and Heather Jamisson from Learning Development Centre – for helping me crossing over to the other shore by supporting me with their academic excellence. Special thanks for Philip. If he did not keep challenging me from the beginning and pushing my boundaries I could not have learned as much as I did. My gratitude to Mark, you opened up new academic horizons for me. I wish also to thank Heather Jamisson for her generous offer to help me with technical and editorial insights and especially for her ongoing friendliness and academic as well as personal encouragement.

I would especially like to thank a number of Indonesian blogger communities and their members: Loenpia Semarang, Anging Mammiri, Aceh Blogger Community, Bali Blogger Community, Kayuh Baimbay, and Bertuah, for their support and friendships. We have witnessed that William Gibson is wrong, that Cyberspace is NOT a consensual hallucination.

I am indebted to my father, mother, and sisters for their encouragement. I have been fortunate to have their support and unconditional love in all its forms. From them, I understand what Jim Butcher meant when he said ‘When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching – they are your family.’

I share the credit of my work with good friends I have met throughout this journey. I would like to thank them for their good company and support: Inaya Rakhmani, Scott, Trish, Amelita, Nan and Pop, Old Man, Siew Lie, Robyn, Pieter,Rob, Michael, Frank, Paula, Asma, Didut, and Wedhouz. Emily Montague correctly said it: ‘Certainly, my dear, friendship is a mighty pretty invention.’

Finally, I dedicate this thesis to Benedicta Gitanjali (Gita).

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life. This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new. At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable. Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
(Gitanjali – Rabindranath Tagore, 1910)

Thank you for your unconditional love, patience, understanding, acceptance, forgiveness and wonderful company. We did it, Apple!

*Acknowledgement, p. ii

Love your sadness. It won’t last.

I visited the wonderful Danielle LaPorte’s page sometimes ago. I really love it, so let me share it with you.

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I was feeling it. Pure sadness — the inescapability of it plowing through the softest part of me. When you’re in that kind of painful place you’ll try to climb the walls to get away from it. You want it over with.
“Love your sadness. It won’t last long.” A friend texted me late at night. I caught it just as I was turning off my bedroom light.
Love my sadness?
Love my sadness.
Sadness, I love you.
Let me give you a kiss, instead of my fist.
You’re heavy, but you’re so honest.
I should give you more credit. More space.
I’ll be grateful when you leave —
but I know I’ll be grateful that you came.
A metaphor: You know when you catch a cold, and part of you is just a bit grateful for it? The cold itself sucks. But it gives you a reprieve, an excuse to stop, curl up, wind down — it demands a compassionate response.
And if you’re smart, you milk it. Take the day off, order in, watch the entire “Breaking Bad” series on Netflix, sleep… a lot. And while you’re sleeping off your fever, you get the sense that you’re burning off months of built up stuff — and sorting out some internal things. You get better, you put fresh sheets on the bed, and you’ve got a new attitude.
Same thing with sadness.
Sadness gives you the chance to be still with the most tender place of your being.
Sadness is an opportunity to deeply appreciate your losses and your longings.
Sadness brings you eye to eye with your desires.
Appreciation is fuel for change.
Love gives your sadness the energy it needs to move through you… so it can move on.
By loving your sadness, you’re respecting your truth.

And freedom always follows truth.

What I want in this mother day

This morning, I read this. Yes, I want almost every point with additional requests (in Italic)

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I want you to be a decent human being.

I want you to be who you are, but don’t be an asshole (Although sometimes being an asshole is necessary and we have to learn to be one of them – only be an asshole when you really have to).

I want you to work hard at everything you do, because life is too short not to give it everything you’ve got.

I want you to ask for help when you need it.

I want you to help others when they need it.

I want you to learn how to cook (and clean after you cook), do your own laundry, pay your bills and know how to clean a bathroom (if you have time, please learn how to do gardening).

When you screw up, and you will, more than once, I want you to own it, because it’s the screw-ups that make the victories sweeter.

I want you to travel, because the world is huge and you are one part of it.

I want you to know that even when we hate each other we disagree and fight, I will never stop loving you.

I want you to play nicely with others.

I want you to feed your curiosity, but keep yourself safe.

I want you to find a way to do what you love, and realize that might look different than you originally thought.

I want you to respect every human being’s right to be who they are.

I want you to sometimes be more interested in someone else than in yourself, but don’t forget to always yourself respect.

I want you to know that you are flawed and you are extraordinary. There is no one else like you.

I want you to know that I would lay down my life for you in Lily Potter fashion any day of the week (not sure with this one).

I want you to realize how lucky you are every once in awhile even if only for an instant.

I want you to know love, even if it means getting hurt.

I want you to relax and not feel guilty about it.

I want you to know life can be brutally hard sometimes.

I want you to know that you can choose happiness even when the dark side offers you cookies.

And I wouldn’t mind breakfast in bed.

See, simple.

Love,

Ibu

K-O-R-N-E-T

 

Di Indonesia, saya kenal kornet – daging sapi kalengan. Cara paling ‘biasa’ mengolah daging kalengan ini, dicampur telur lalu digoreng dan dimakan pakai nasi anget.

Entah, siapa orang pertama yang menyuarakan KOR-NET, karena nama aseli makanan ini sebenarnya CORNED BEEF (corn-ed), bukan KORNET. Corned beef adalah jenis daging yang diolah dengan menggunakan ‘garam’ (a treatment with ‘corns’ of salt) dan bumbu-bumbu lainnya. Daging yg sudah dibumbui ini lalu dimasak dengan cara direbus dengan menggunakan api kecil selama berjam-jam (slow cooking) sampai lunak, tapi tidak hancur.

Makanan ‘kornet’ ini dimiliki oleh beberapa budaya, termasuk Irlandia, Inggris, Yahudi, Caribia, dan India dan Pakistan. Setiap budaya memiliki ‘bumbu’ tersendiri untuk mengolah ‘kornet’. Yang pasti, garam selalu jadi bumbu utama. Garam yang dipakai untuk membuat ‘kornet’ juga bukan garam biasa, tapi disebut  prague powder (a curing salt). Fungsi garam ini bukan hanya sebagai bumbu, tapi juga sebagai pemberi warna ‘merah jambu’ (pink) pada ‘kornet’.

‘Kornet’ pertama yang saya makan di Australia, mengingatkan saya pada ‘Indonesia kornet’. Bedanya, kornet yang saya makan bukan keluar dari kaleng (jadi, lemak-lemak putih yang kadang membungkus kornet ketika dikeluarkan dari kaleng itu nggak ada). Kornet yang saya makan juga ‘luar biasa lunak’ walaupun bedanya, tidak ‘hancur berkeping-keping’ ketika di potong/iris. Sementara, yang saya ingat, ‘kornet’ kalengan di Indonesia bisa dihancurkan dengan garpu biasa.

Negara pertama yang membuat kornet ini sebagai satu industri ialah Irlandia tahun 1825, walaupun soal pengolahan ‘kornet’ ini sudah disebut-sebut sejak tahun 888 AD. Entah kapan tepatnya industri pengalengan ‘kornet’, dan kapan iklan kornet pertama di Indonesia, yang sekarang jadi menu sehari-hari kita (digoreng pake telur).

Gambarnya saya pinjam dari sini  dan sini. Terimakasih.

 

Beard

Years ago, when I was still lecturing – I asked my students to watch ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ in my Intercultural Communication class. My focus, in general, was on how these two cultures communicate. There were details I missed, because I didn’t know.

Living in a country of multiculturalism like Australia, I become more aware of a number of details in this movie.

Remember a scene before Toula Portokalos‘s wedding – when all her female family members gathered in the morning, preparing themselves? You might recall a lady who keep pulling hairs on her chin. Remember? That was her beard. Yes, beard.

From my friend, I know that the Greek women, especially when they get older, grow facial hair. Actually, my friend (she is 78 years old Australian lady) told me she shaves her facial hair every day.

I took it for granted, that in Indonesia women, most of them, do not have facial hair.

 

 

 

 

Licking

Do you know that after they poop, dogs lick their butts? Similar, after they urinate, they lick their tools (both males and females).

Then I wonder, when they lick my face, does my face (to dogs) equally deserve licking as butts and their other tools do? Or do dogs lick my face in a different way that I haven’t figured it out how?

 

Warrior