You Humanize Me

“You humanize me.”

I said that to a boy last month. For the past several months, I’ve been getting into this more focused mentality. I’ve been trying to pump out as many camps, seminars, and workshops as I possibly could in the remaining months I have left in Indonesia. As a result, I’ve become very work-oriented. Every interaction is an opportunity to network. The bad part of that is if I find no potential to further the progress of one of my events from an interaction, I sort of detach and ignore. This is not a good way to live, but I’ve got serious drive right now.

Anyway, I met someone that makes me feel more human and less of an event-pumping machine. From our interactions, I’ve discovered things about and sides of myself that I never knew were there. I can be sweet. I can be friendly again. Most important, I can let sweetness in. Who knew that could happen? I’m so happy it has, and so happy I’m finally in a relationship that I really enjoy. I feel supported and loved. I’m more humanized because of this, and funnily, that makes me more productive. 

From this experience, I’ve discovered that productivity could be fueled by hard ambition as well as by sweet emotion. Before I would often confuse sweetness with being soft and weak. But I don’t feel weak. After letting the sweetness in, I felt like I could acknowledge the feelings I set aside to be the hardcore Peace Corps volunteer I always (perhaps arrogantly) envisioned myself being. Instead, letting the sweetness in let me become better at expressing my feelings and my needs. This process overall aids in my emotional development, which aids my overall development.

In other good news, I was recently accepted into my choice PhD program. I feel amazed, intimidated, and ready all at the same time. I want to continue practicing all the skills I’ve developed in Indonesia the past two years. I want to stay organized. I want to keep networking like a boss. I want to stay fiercely independent. And I want to continue not giving a shit about what people think about me. These are the goals for the next phase in my life, and I want to accomplish them not as a machine, but as a human.

My Own Force Awakens

I just watched the new Star Wars film. Having stopped being a hardcore fan several years ago, I thought seeing the film would be just kinda fun. I had no expectations of it getting me out of this funk I've been having for a while. Seeing the film totally did that. That film was everything I needed in life. I’m so recharged. I’m not one for making resolutions, but considering my heightened mood from the film, I’d like to list down some things I’d like to work on:

1. I want to be a better daughter, sister, and aunt. After living in family-oriented Indonesia for nearly two years, I’ve been exposed to the great benefits of a strong family. I was raised in an Asian household, but my parents adopted many American habits. My parents encouraged me to be independent and to take care of myself before helping others. While I still believe that is a noble path, I want to be completely there for my mom, my sisters, and my little niece. They’re everything. After my father passed away last month, I feel a sense of responsibility that I cannot wholly fulfill being thousands of miles away, but I will. 
2. I want to be a better Peace Corps volunteer. I have less than six months left of service. I’m so excited to get back to America and to apply everything I’ve learned. But I’m still here, so I want to stay in the present. I’ve halfheartedly picked up mediation to stay in the present, but it is hard. There are so many things I want to do back home, and I often feel like I’m done with this job and am ready to move on. But I know that’s not possible. I’ve made a commitment, and I’m going to finish this on a good note.
3. I want to cut down on smoking. Most of my adventures in Indonesia have been on my bike. I’ve sadly realized that I can’t climb on my bike. My smoker lungs simply won’t allow me. I can do over 100km on a straight road in one day, but a few steep hills? No cigar. I know it’ll be easier to cut down in America because it’s less socially acceptable there, but I will slowly start here. It took my father five whole years to fully quit smoking. I am not ready to quit, but I’m ready to cut down for those beautiful Indonesian rice fields I’ve yet to climb up on my bike. 
4. I want to continue my writing. I know I’m not a great or super compelling writer, but I’d like to become an essayist, not unlike David Sedaris. Big dreams. The only way to get even close to that is to write every day. So here’s my Tuesday effort for you. 
5. I want to be more social. For those that know me well, I’m a shy person because I’m afraid of saying stupid or nonsensical things. I mean, sometimes I’m just socially selective, but most of the time, I’m afraid you’re going to think I’m stupid. This is unhealthy I realize. I can be really brave when it comes to work, and I’d like that to translate smoothly to my personal life. 

Why did the new Star Wars film inspire me to write this? That Rey character is pretty fucking awesome. She’s also super fit, which attracts me so much. Regardless of where she’s from or what insiders say about her parentage, she’s a good person. She saves that little droid from capture, she refuses to sell it despite its worth, and she promises to bring it back to where it belongs. Further, she uses the Force like a pro. Was she even trained? Does part of me want to be just like her? Uh yeah! But sometimes I engage in the Indonesian habit of saying I’ll do something and never do it. It’s going to take me a long time to get to that Rey status, but I’m willing to work on it. In the meantime, I’m going to work on the few things I’ve listed above and hope it’ll get me someplace good.

Positive Experiences

One of my friends back home asked why so many of my blog posts are negative and mostly about crying while I’m smiling in all my Facebook photos. My response: You’re supposed to smile in photos, right? My grimace pose is not as attractive as my hand on hip smiling one. Ami right?!

But honestly, I think it’s healthy that I express my weaknesses through any form. At least I’m not keeping all the negative feelings inside me. But I do have a few positive experiences up my sleeve that I’d like to share:

1. My ibu woke me up early one morning to present a traditional Javanese rice dish eaten on special occasions, after which she sang me a wrongly worded “Happy Birthday.” It was September 24th. My birthday is in the middle of October.
2. One of my Indonesian friends was offered a teaching job after being observed by a senior teacher from that school at my IGLOW IBRO.
3. After feeling a bit insecure for having to wear a pretty ugly teaching uniform, I’m given the cute eyes from the handsome teacher at my school. Swoon. 
4. I dreamt that Freddy Kreuger was transgender and was trying to win the love of the person she loved but just ended up scaring that person. After fearing that this was a different but similar version of my life story, I scored a Tinder match that ended up becoming a relationship for six months.
5. Not all the teachers at my school can speak English, so our communication is limited. But the language we all can communicate with is the language of smoking Indonesian cigarettes. On school trips, the male teachers basically read my mind and find me places to smoke hidden from the students. Now this is integration.
6. I’ve collected an arsenal of bad words in Javanese (all taught by the same male teachers that hide my smoking) in case I ever come across a rude Indonesian that won’t stop harassing me.
7. After my father passed away last month, one of my best Indonesian friends told me: Be strong because you are strong. He understands me so well.
8. During pre-service training, my ibu would put a box of chocolate cookies in front of me as soon as I would sit down to finish Indonesian language homework.
9. I would spend the most awkward mornings with my bapak (host father) before I left for school. He would often mumble to me in Javanese I don’t understand or just smile as I sat down to eat breakfast. One morning, I thought the neighborhood cat had died because bapak kept hitting its back with a stick with no response. It turns out he was giving the cat a massage. 
10. I’m about to complete my Peace Corps service in less than six months.

It took me less than half an hour to compile this list, and I laughed through the entire making of it. That is #11.

Jungle Mode

I have less than six months of service left, and the greatest thing I’ve learned is how to survive on my own. Before serving as a Peace Corps volunteer, I’ve lived away from home but never this far and this long. The mental preparation for this kind of experience forces me to really step out of my comfort areas that are not only good opportunities for me to grow, but also are just plain uncomfortable.

For example, I’ve been living out of my bag for the past year. Volunteers are encouraged to explore the community in which they live, and that requires that I bike everywhere. There are days when I visit a university, another volunteer, or some other organization and there are requests that I make a professional not-sweaty-from-biking appearance. When that happens, I first wipe the sweat from my eyes and open up my backpack of supplies: soap, deodorant, hairpins, underwear, first aid kid, etc. It is honestly exhausting to have to put on my Peace Corps persona after having just biked 10km. But I do it; all the volunteers do.

As a result from the past year’s habitual change, I take all my things with me everywhere. I even did this when I visited California last month. It’s like my safety net. After leaving the house in torn cargo pants and a fully packed bike oil-stained bag, my fashionably clad friend looked at me like:

“Where are you headed, Indiana Jones?”

I often feel and look this way after a long day

Do you ever get into that survivor jungle mode but then forget you’re not in the jungle?

Even my ibu and the teachers at my Islamic middle school started to call me, “Nekat,” which roughly translates to too adventurous or reckless in Javanese. I am just trying to survive in the most efficient way I know how. I am not allowed the convenience of staying clean and pretty because my bike is my main form of transportation, so I adapt. 

I started to realize the negative effects of my ways when I visited my first Indonesian host family last week. After lying on my old bed in my old bedroom and staring at my old Winnie the Pooh clock on the wall, I became very emotional. Nostalgia took over and memories from the past two years flooded my mind. There were memories of the times before I learned how to survive well in this country, which were confusing times. And then there were the times when I felt really integrated and never wanted to go home, and those were confusing, too. Basically, I had a mini cry fest while holding my old Hello Kitty pillow and hearing my host family watch an Indonesian-dubbed SpongeBob Square Pants episode. I tried to time my cries to the laughter of Patrick.

I think my ibu knew that I was crying. She knocked on my door, immediately handed me my favorite cassava chips, and said I could eat rice soon. She took care of me. The night I visited, she cooked my favorite Indonesian foods, bought my favorite snacks, stayed patient while trying to understand my terrible Indonesian, and allowed me so much privacy. She said I didn’t have to worry about anything. It felt really nice to let go of that survivor mode. She’s right. I didn’t have to try so hard to survive in her house, so I just lay down and rested. It was the best sleep I've had in a long time.

Having to turn on my survivor mode for biking home through a flood and thunderstorm and for trying to ignore Indonesian men stare at my chest at bus terminals, it felt good to let go and have my ibu ask if she could put more water in my cup during dinner. Yes, ibu. That would be really nice.

Potential

One Saturday morning, I taught second year English speaking to my university students. One of my students came late and excused her lateness on the man that was harassing her on the bus. I was appalled. She then told the class two more stories about the harassment she experienced while riding the bus. I gave her some tips to deal with that. The whole class seemed curious as to why I would have tips. Apparently, harassment is very common here. It’s common in America, too, but I know many Americans who would stand up for themselves and attempt to stop the harassment. I asked my student what she did when this happened. She said she was afraid. He kept talking to her. She felt uncomfortable the whole time, but did nothing.

The students then said they’ve never been taught to stand up for themselves, excusing harassment as an everyday occurrence like traffic or bad weather conditions. I don’t think that’s right. Any kind of harassment is not okay, so I, of course, discussed with the head of the English Department about the possibility of holding some sort of workshop to teach these girls how to stand up for themselves and to teach these boys how to be allies. He seemed on board. I felt good.

That afternoon, I told one of my friends about my idea, and she doubted the potential of Indonesian students to learn how to stand up for themselves. She basically said sexual harassment is not a good topic for this passive culture. I should choose a softer topic. They will feel embarrassed and uncomfortable, and will be shy to attend. She said my students, who I’ve taught for over a year, would run away from me.

It that true? It’s hard to believe that the students with whom I’ve worked so hard to develop a relationship would run away from me just because I want to discuss a very sensitive topic. I know they will be embarrassed and uncomfortable, but this is an embarrassing and uncomfortable topic. They should feel that way. They need to be given the tools to deal with this problem.

I’ve been raised to embrace the idea that if a topic makes you uncomfortable, you should explore it. Broaden your perspective. Discuss ideas that can potentially make you smarter about the world. I know the Indonesian upbringing is not the same, but my students can, at least, learn how to think this way. As a Peace Corps volunteer, I’m planting seeds. A revolution will not happen overnight. I know this, but a lot more can happen in the next few years if I do this than if I don’t. I must try. I owe it to my Peace Corps service to try as much as I can in the next seven months.

But my friend was right. My students may run away from me. The challenge is not to make this seem like I’m blaming anyone or that I’m trying to completely change Indonesian culture, which can be passive sometimes. How can I integrate the confident, always curious perspective of the world into Indonesian culture? Sure this won’t work in every aspect of Indonesian culture, but I’d like my students to, at least, be able to stop a harasser. They have that potential.

The A Key

My A key has been giving me so much trouble for the past few months. Hell, my whole computer has been trying to kill my cool. Obviously it’s not my computer’s fault if I lose my cool. It’s my own fault. Two months ago, I bought a new charger. I electrocuted myself charging it for the first time in my house. It was a minor electrocution. I buzzed for only a second. I’m okay. The guy who sold me the charger said the charger was legit. Indonesia is known for its replications, but I wanted to believe the guy. I really had no other option, so I just learned how to not electrocute myself again.

I’m currently working on my graduate school application essays, so I need a lot of concentration on the computer. Microsoft Word will be my best friend for the next few months. All of a sudden, the A keyaa starts to malfunction. That key hasn’t been working for the past few months, so I’ve just been copying and pasting that one letter hundreds of times a day. I told a fellow volunteer, “It’s good it’s not a more used key like E or something.” She responds, “But it’s still a major letter.” We both agreed it should’ve been the Q key. I wouldn’t mind at all if it were Q.

Anyway, the past few weeks As have been appearing on my Word documents. It was surprising. I thought the same ghost that’s possessed the students at my school got a hold of my computer. My computer is possessed now. It makes concentrating really difficult because I know at any time As will join me on my exploration of why I’d make a good candidate for San Jose State University’s Speech-Language Pathology graduate program. How in the world am I supposed to focus when I think I’daaaaaaaaaa baaaaaaaaaae aaaa good candidaaaaaaaaaate for this gradaaaaaaaaaaaauate program becauseaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaI’m very oaaaaaaaaarganized and effaaaaaaaaaaaaective in aaaaaaaaaaawhaaaaat I daaaaaaaaoaaaaaa?

It’s not working for meaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

aI never thought Peace Corps challenges would get at me from inside my safe space. My computer is where I’m most comfortable. I like expressing myself through my blogs. At my computer is where I reflect on my problems from the outside world.aaaaaaaaaa I usually feel safe when I reflect. I reflect only when I know I can’t be hurt. It’s genius to get me when I’m most vulnerable. Good one, Peace Corps.aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa But okay. Do your worst. It’s only going to make me stronger.aaaaaaaaaaa

I also could just get my keyboard fixed, but after that tiny electrocution, I reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally don’t want to take aaaaaaanymore chances with my physical health. Mental challenges, okay. But I have a lowaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa physical pain threshold.

I guess I just have to adda thaea backspace button to my list of best friends this year.aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Damn it!aaaa

I Choose Beyonce

After putting Ben Harper’s “Sexual Healing” on blast in the teachers’ room of my conservative Islamic middle school, I started to wonder how pessimistic I’ve become since joining Peace Corps. It’s definitely not Peace Corps’ fault. I’m here. I’m doing my job. It’s just I have seven months left, and all I can think about is getting out. Since I refuse to end my contract, I’ve turned to some self-destructive habits. A few months ago, I wrote a piece on my relationship with Wilson. Wilson is a reference to the film Cast Away in which Tom Hanks’ character develops a weird and dependent relationship with a Wilson volleyball he’s named Wilson.

I’ve removed my Wilson from my life for the past five months. It was easy. I was in a good relationship, and I was convinced I didn’t want Wilson’s attention anymore.

Last week, I spent some time with my Wilson. Things were so good. He was so sweet, so cute, and so kind. Most important, I was desperate for attention. The emotional situation after my break-up was so delicate. I could have chosen to blast some Beyoncé and run away from Wilson that day or I could have revisited an even worse situation with him.

I’m so glad I chose Beyoncé. She has saved my life more than one time in this country. That voice has the power to shake the self-destructive bullshit out of me.

I biked home. There was a baby living at my house for a few days. I love hanging out with babies. They have a similar Beyoncé-esque power to make me reprioritize and realize how stupid my past actions have been. So I just hanged out with the baby at home. He threw up on me. It was still a better time than one I’ve ever had with Wilson. I plan to choose Beyoncé each and every time. And baby vomit.

aaaaaa