Miss-ing some hairs

The newly crowned Miss England is an athlete, her runner-up a soldier commended for bravery in Iraq (excerpts here and there). This year's Miss Indonesia's list of achievements (sourced from e-very-where) sounded like a shrinking violet next to what her MW competitors are up to.

Don't get me wrong; I like multilinguists, especially those who can communicate their ideas in their non-native languages. But when the comparison game is on (and it happens in full force in pageants), six homeschooled diplomas seem somewhat insubstantial to root up claims of the Olympics training and war soldier types. There isn't much information as to why Karenina wanted to do MI09, but... I've long felt as if beauty pageant contestants in Indonesia are more of the 'careerist' types: set off and do modelling, then do beauty pageants, then find film work or something in the entertainment industry.

My dad once joked that if I had not been callously fed to formula milk on the day of my birth, I would have been taller than my sister and would've won the contest. To which I replied, "but then I would become an artis" (note the italicised spelling and context-specific meaning.) And I wouldn't be doing something I believe in, the way I am now. So never mind the smaller frame, I quite like it.

Back to the beauty queen talks...
If these Misses give a good representation of the countries and societies they hail from, I'm pretty sure Indonesians score pretty high on the thy-image-is-of-primary-importance column. Which is what would probably come in handy in the long run, since I'll be funding my livelihood from some sort of sartorial vanity fulfillment.

Ah well, so there went commentaries on current affairs.

Also, a friend commented on the chain picture I posted here. She asked me whether I was "really as chubby as the picture showed." Well, to that query I respond with the latest picture taken yesterday (along with online image distribution of the new haircut, albeit three weeks old):


Voilà. I believe I've done my blogging duties.
Have a good day!

Love Song

A few weeks (?) ago a girl forwarded me this article. She then proceeded to ask me whether such 'engineered results' happened... well, naturally, because I went to one.

Here are my points.

- On who ended up winning -
I do not deny that favouritism exists
Finalists are not born overnight - they go through initial screenings, interviews, photo sessions and the likes. Without them realising, they came under scrutiny the minute they handed in their application. Whilst going through the selection process, they would definitely come across chaperones, photographers, videographers, trainers, members of the judging panel and all sorts of stakeholders. Inevitably, these people will form an opinion of different contestants and root for ones they favour. And, since these people (especially the chaperones) would have the rare opportunity of checking what else the contestants have that is not listed on paper, they will look out for people they feel have the necessary makings of an absolute winner.

So why do certain finalists get the most air time?
Chaperones would probably look out for finalists who are best-mannered, photographers and videographers for those faces that will look good on screen, trainers for those who put their efforts into remembering the choreographs, some part of the judging panel for the most P.C., some other part of the judging panel for the most unusual, and so the list goes.

Stakeholders will have to make a choice
They might go for the looks, poise and grace, ability to carry oneself publicly, brains... and they have the power to say who goes in and who's out. In short, a wide range of factors can influence how they decide who goes in. Looks and brains are just two of them. In hindsight, I realized that I could metaphorically sniff who will be in and who will be out.

Why did they pick A and not B/C/me/somebody else?
Talking about the Indonesian version, all the provinces must be represented. This means 33 girls (or in the case of Puteri Indonesia, 38 due to the extra 5 Jakartan contestants.) There are stringent requirements about who can participate for what province (pure lineage, residence, place of birth, knowledge of culture of said province.) In the case of more popular provinces like DKI Jakarta, sometimes the competition can be pure hell because the bulk of girls who goes for it normally could only go for it, and they have things like overseas degrees and the likes. There might be three girls who looked really viable but there is only one spot... so the decision can be based on really minor stuff like whether this girl is 1cm taller, or that girl is one shade lighter, or the other has a sexy silhouette. In the real world you wouldn't really choose one person over the other in this manner.

Were the contestants really *that* stupid? They couldn't even string sentences in English.
Well, there is a wide spectrum to observe from, from the attractive bimbo to the cum laude forensic science student. You can have your pick. I do have something to say about languages, though. Mastering foreign languages is not a skill to be taken lightly - it takes years to polish, and one could even still be disastrously accented (or mixed up one's grammars) by then.

So, did I know the Top 3 winners from the beginning?
No, I didn't. I only knew who would probably make it and who wouldn't.

Did they know the Top 3 winners from the beginning?
Maybe, maybe not. You'll need to ask them for it.
People like the choreographers (Ari Tullang and Abang in my case) would have been involved in this type of competitions hundreds of times, so naturally they would have an eye on who would possibly win (even though they probably didn't know who would either.) So, maybe they had a hunch and tried their best to prepare these girls for the crown. After all, they wouldn't want the winner gawking on the stage for not knowing where she needs to stand and wave.

- After the contest ends -
There were some cajoling behind closed doors. I don't think she deserves to win.
Deserving or not, the girl with the crown is the girl with the crown. Because the crown is on her head, responsibilities fall onto her shoulders. Getting the crown actually puts her on a year-long endurance feat to prove that yes, she really deserves that crown. It's like being on a twelve-month quarantine period.

Does that mean I'm not pretty?
I don't know. But the fact that you made it to national-level pageantry means that your face is worth something.

Am I beautiful?
Being a beauty queen is not the pinnacle of beauty. Being beautiful doesn't stop at being a beauty queen. I find one of my great-aunts to be captivating and beautiful, even though she's well into her 70s and her skin sags (you should meet her.) Although beauty is one essential facet of womanhood, it is only one part, and it can still be polished even after the pageant participation ends. Growing oneself is a lifelong process - so do not be harsh on yourself and keep on expanding your knowledge and skills, and applying them in life.

I hope I have made a few points clearer.
(Gosh, I should write self-help books for teenage girls.)

Some reading materials: here, there and a past post.

(this summer's sweatshop)

What do you call a working group of fashion students? A sweatshop.


(Featuring Helen, Anne, KY and an unseen Jeanne.)

I didn't help them much today; all of them have finished their garments and are doing the paperworks (illustrations, technical drawings, compiling, binding etc.) There wasn't much I could do other than cooking and cleaning - for me, I was being more of a domestic helper than lending a hand to help finish their work. Nevermind, I'm quite happy with the helper role, and I'm going to see them submit their work tomorrow. I might be able to sneak in and have a look at what other students do, too... ^.^

Mmmm. The hunt is on; ...I wonder, who stands in my position this year? The internet yields no news so far... and the night is less than a week away. I wonder whether these ladies are being grilled through the routines right now, who is the artistic director, and who would have enough guts to speak up against him/her... :s

Also, if Barbie was a real-life figure, her body would be attainable only through plastic surgeries and tightlacing. Yes, you can try to grow naturally to 5'9"... but there's no way a waist circumference of 45.72 cm is naturally attainable (this comes from a girl whose measurement 'grew' only 5 cm since she was six.) And no, you can't possibly support all the above-mentioned attributes on a pair of European size 33 feet. I wonder why Mattel has not adjusted Barbie's unrealistic proportion, since the doll is one of the earliest female body image role models available to children in today's postmodern consumerist society.

Oh well... here I rest my case.

[French] Women Don't Get Fat

Okay, I know... I usually title my blogs according to a song's lyrics that I deem suitable for the blog's topics and mood. Now I would like to extend this priviledge to a bevy of books I have previously read. Hopefully it'll get you interested in reading the particular book, or at least skimming it off.

(I wish there are more high-quality bookshops in Indonesia. Went through a hard time for having to order many things off the internet.)

Following in the manner of writing structure I was re-immersed in during ELUPP, there are a couple of things I would like to express in this post. Okay, okay, it gets a bit formal... I kind of need it myself since I tend to forget lately. It's some sort of sign of ageing (don't like it to happen to my brain) but oh well, this shall serve the purpose.

I would like to give kudos to these three ladies who deserve it well, displayed in ascending numbers):


Hope the pictures come out alright. Almost all girls gave valuable feedback on each other. The sole reason I put these three's pictures is because they braved themselves enough to confront my shortcomings when my flaws surface, risking themselves to be viewed as a 'busybody' or 'know-it-all' person by irritating another girl. However, I respect them for their rebukes as these proved the three as being observant, open-minded and courageous. They are the ones who came home with a definite learning experience and a transformed mind. Thank you for your well-meaning support... I love you all and hope to see you when I'm around ^__^

(Yeah, you three are famous as hell now ;p Don't worry, I'm using your formal portraits. The candid pictures stay in my camera.)

Secondly, it's back to the issue of super-skinny models. As I have mentioned in my previous post, I do not approve of unnatural ways to alter one's experience. It is possible to achieve a better figure (be it of a larger or smaller dress size) by improving one's diet. What I imply by the word 'diet' in this context is the way one eats; its meaning is not restricted to "reducing one's intake of calories" - please refer to the first meaning of this Oxford Dictionnary entry, the first being its original interpretation. However, as we humans consist of an assorted bunch of people with differing genes, this means that it is statistically and realistically nearly impossible for one to possess the genes to 'a perfect mannequin body', with models being the genetically weird exception. This implies that if one tries to train one's body to this idealised mannequin-like body when it is not meant to be such, one is not respecting the body. In relation to these body-bending efforts, Albert Camus once said: "Nobody realises that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal."

Don't be normal, just be yourself. A weird self is perfectly acceptable and, contrary to your belief, is interesting enough on its own.

(Anne, that applies to you too.)

(...I should really thank Aesop for being so generous in educating its customers.)

Talking about food, I found out that the soba-somen-sweet potatoes trio does its job in clearing up my pimples and making myself less sluggish. Plus, they are easier to prepare than cooking rice on top of a stove. Yes, you can tell me I was stupid enough not to bring a rice cooker along to England, but this just proves I can survive without it sans instant rice. I gave up the hope of eating instant rice well back into my high school days, when my exchange mother's well-meaning attempt to serve a rice dish caused her to buy and cook the six-minute box of instant rice at Carrefour.

I have lately been cooking up semi-vegetarian meals on weekdays for two reasons: (1) the sinshe (i.e. Chinese doctors) I met told me I need to detox (2) vegies are faster and easier to cook than meat, and they are less pricey too. Vegies are actually pretty nice and score good mileage in terms of keeping oneself full. These are my staple food items:
- wakame » proper unseasoned seaweed
- sweet snap peas » nice and crunchy
- fresh shiitake mushrooms » pretty affordable and look substantial in comparison to wilt-looking blanched enoki, and they are better than the dried variety since I won't need to spend time soaking them up
- ciabatta bread » usually baked fresh hence it contains no preservatives; goes well with e.v.o.o.
- milk and yogurt » very handy for thickening up sauces; good for breakfast too
- honey » goes with yogurt; good to have to bolster one's immunity in case of runny nose or a high body temperature
- garlic » gives off a nice garlicky smell I guess...? :p Assists to control high-blood tension too
- 'traffic light' capsicums » I love colours in my dish ^o^
Contrary to what is generally assumed to be my diet for people of my build, I eat. An awful lot of food. My dearest cousins-cum-housemates and uni friends will happily vouch for me on the ferocity to which I devour food. I watch the quality of food that I eat, but generally I just don't care that much ^__^;>

(For bokap and nyokap, I hope this post shall well serve the purpose of informing you that I am looking after myself well. Don't worry about me too much ^__^ )

Oh bokap, I also want to tell you that fresh dates taste normal. I got a sample from a fruit seller today; shared it with Anne. It was a bit tarty at first bite and wasn't as sweet as the dried variety, but it tastes good nevertheless. Oh yeah, contrary to what we believe, fresh dates can be eaten fresh.

I also wanna share how I successfully battled my pimples within the past two months without taking Chinese medicines (they cost a fortune in here.) It was down to what I normally eat (see above), daily servings of pu'erh tea, the two-dinar rice powder I bought in Dubai plus this breakout cream-and-powder thing (i.e. my 'breakout nukes') I got in here. I have tried doing without one of the four on my lazy days and the remaining three (or two, or one) wouldn't work. Oh, and lots of good plain water.

The only gripe I have for London, apart from the astronomical prices of things, is that it's somewhat dirtier than Jakarta. Can it be attributed to me getting around on public transportation and on foot? Ibeth once remarked to me that her feet got so dirty for walking around town in sandals; I definitely wouldn't try doing this in Jakarta. They are 110% guaranteed to be dirty, both the footwear and the feet.

Finally, on the topic of being fashionably late. Being late is definitely not something on a fashion designer's book - you wouldn't dare to finish your show collection three hours late since everything is timed to the minute. The teachers are notoriously finicky when it comes to being on time, or even early. At the moment I'm still looking for which link on the fashion supply chain ultimately projects this image of lateness to the whole industry for the general public's heuristics. I'll get back to this at the end of the academic year (please remind me in case I forgot.)

Okay, I guess you're kinda confused/bored/enraged/amused by this post. The book is really interesting, though, as the phenomenon is applicable to people of all races and gender. You might wanna read it to discover that it is possible to have it all: eat what you want and be happy with your body figure. Go ahead and have a read! Have a good day, I'm off to bed now.

A Foggy Day (in London Town)

London is not as foggy as I imagined it to be. There is actually a fair amount of sun (10-minute bursts?) in the afternoon.

I'm honestly nerve-wrecked at the fact I haven't secured another back-up apartment to move to. The one that's been confirmed is situated in a not-so-familiar-looking neighbourhood, and I (being a fussy young lady who lived her adolescence in a predominantly English-looking area) am not too impressed with it.

Surprisingly, I made friends to two lively girls, both packed with loads of personality and an interesting background (and suprisingly: Asians well-conversed in English, with one having a slight Brit accent.) At this stage I'm not too stressed not to find Caucasian-looking friends as it is a one-month preparatory class. There are some benefits coming from the classes too, one of them being well-acquainted with the accent. Meh heh heh heh.

As I have also left this blog hanging for some time, I will also clarify the experiences of being in a beauty pageant. Here they are:
1. Contrary to the presumption that beauty queens have their beauty sleep, we were expected to present ourselves to the make-up team no later than 5AM every day. This is noteworthy as our previous day usually ended at 11PM the earliest.
2. Yes, we do have good skin, but we do have the occasional zit or two. And yes, it's possible for one to be in an unlucky situation and have her foundation colour mismatched to her skin.
3. The majority of girls who were quarantined have good personality and ethics. A vocal minority, however, did exhibit certain traits of jealousy and tendency to cat-fight at minor setbacks. Therefore, it's important to keep one's sanity and develop an extensive network regardless of whether one is a target of such bitchiness or not.
4. Not all of the girls (myself included) have previous experience in such competitions.
5. The sash, the number plate and the nametag are indispensible accessories to every occasion.
6. It was amusing to find out the buses we rode in are flanked by two policemen riding in a zig-zag manner on a huge motorcycle.
7. Choreography was a day-to-day activity staple: at least four hours are dedicated to it every night.
8. It's important to keep one's room clean at all time, as you might have an interesting personality (or two) come into your room and go through your pile of dirty clothing. That being said, it's handy to take advantage of the daily laundry allowance being offered by the hotel.
9. We did get a range of unusual classes, one of them being "the wave" class.
10. Being down-to-earth is a trait of personality that is highly valued. The competition may get glamorous and unrealistic at times, but our lives do return to normal (exceptions for three very lucky/pitiful girls) after it ends, so be normal.
11. Not winning is not the end of the world, and it may be a good thing at the end.

I miss the friends I made during the whole experience though... sob... it's also enlightening to learn that we could get to where we were because of the extensive support of our friends/rivals and family, and not solely on our capabilities. These evidences only became so apparent and undeniable during those days, and seeing them materialize is definitely a life-transforming experience in itself.

After all those are being said, I am now making a remarkably smooth transition to London. I do have a visa that was sloppily prepared, but I have almost nothing to complain about (and I wouldn't like to complain about things anyway.) So... I guess that's all for now.

Oh, as another note, this blog will count in as part of my homework of a diary. So Kevin, if you're reading this, take it as my diary. Meh heh heh heh.

Take care!

A foggy day in London town
Had me low and had me down
I viewed the morning with such alarm
The British Museum had lost its charm
How long, I wondered, could this thing last?
But the age of miracles hadn't passed
For, suddenly, I saw you there
And through the foggy London town
The sun was shining, everywhere.

(clipped run)

Walking the way a model walks (with a pair of 9cm stilettos) makes wearing my favourite heels feels like a cinch. Argh!

For me, Sunday starts at 4AM as I'm going off to church at 7 (prepping up starts at 4:30.) By now it's pretty clear the schedule may be a bit exhausting. I'll need to take some honey tomorrow, just to play it safe. Oh, I almost forgot to say that this blog was posted at around 11PM local time.

Okay, that's all for now... I'm off to bed! Take care :)

(...rrrrrring!)

Dear all, I'm sorry I can't take your calls or reply to your messages right away. The answer to Wednesday's jitters were quelled that very night (all while stuck with an overheated clutch.)

All that I can say is that now I am privy to many things I could only imagine of. The list of demands is long and it's physically exhausting to complete the day, but I will do the best to my abilities and let God do the rest :) Keeping my sanity intact is a very important priority indeed!

Finally, I have no idea whether the font comes out as Arial or not, since I've never used Blackberry's browser for blogging. Ponky, I'm following your lead :E

Take care and keep your sanity intact. Note to myself: be slow to complain and quick to lend a helping hand.

Part The Waters

I'm feeling lonely, and I feel proverbially drowned (hence the blog's title.)

Still listening to music right now, as well as calming my nerves and trying to channel a good portion of brainpower towards translating an invitation. Havoc tends to happen when I go nervous, hence the need to calm myself down. Just on the side, it's unimaginable how I'd be if I took MDMA pills, as I'm already a restless person without it!

To be honest, it takes courage to choose my path in life and even more when it comes to sticking up with it. I've been doing this interview: I started off being merely curious but now feels like I'm going for the first place! Moreover, since stability and ample time rank high on my list, not hearing about it makes me nervous. The nervotic experience is not pleasurable, but it's so hilarious to observe how I have a batallion of butterflies busily fluttering in my tummy. I'm lucky to have friends to keep me a-ground and tell me to get rid of those butterflies.

I also need to be myself, to be courteous and to be proper. Meh heh heh :E

Returning to the question of what makes me beautiful, this is the answer that is and shall be from now on: congeniality and a genuine concern of the well-being of others around me. Please keep reminding me on this matter! :D

Alright, now it's time to sink my head into translation works. Typing up this blog has certainly helped defuse the bomb ticking in my mind (I don't know why it ticks, or for how long it will keep ticking.) In the end it's good to have my concentration back. After all, blogging's like writing an article about one's piece of mind, isn't it?

Cheers, take care and keep your sanity intact!

When I feel I'm going under... part the waters, Lord
When I feel the waves around me, calm the sea
When I cry for help, oh hear me Lord and hold out Your hand
Touch my life
Still the raging storm in me...

I need Thee every hour, most gracious Lord
No tender voice like Thine can peace afford

I need Thee, oh I need Thee
Every hour I need Thee
Oh bless me now, my Saviour
I come to Thee

I need Thee every hour, in joy or pain
Come quickly and abide, or life is vain

I need Thee, oh I need Thee
Every hour I need Thee
Oh bless me now, my Saviour
I come to Thee