medea’s beauty secret

I’ve been to too many fashion weeks, red carpets, in the midst of so many celebrities and socialites and fashionistas, more than I could count with all of my friends’ fingers. and i do have many friends. and they would lend me their fingers to help me count. but that’s not the point.

The point is, at those glamorous events, people look their best (or at least try to). They have hair more fabulous than normal people on the street.  Their bodies shimmer and their high heels are aggressive and killing. Their faces… Like Gods and Goddesses. Which means, flawless.

So much efforts have been put in order to present oneself in that divine state. I do the same thing myself. And, being around the circle for too long (and enjoying it), I forgot what it felt like to be beautiful without all of those life  supports. I even forgot what it felt like to appreciate natural beauty.

Until I met Medea. She was  an art & entertainment magazine journalist who called me last week to ask for a half an hour out of my life for an interview. I told her, we could meet on saturday afternoon  in my place, 30 minutes before my hair stylist and makeup artist came.

It was saturday and she came. And I was mesmerized by her appearance. I could tell that she tried hard to look good that day to impress a big star as me. But, what she might have done was something that many celebrities would do before running to a store or a gym. Obviously she didn’t have her own stylist. And, that’s the point.

She was interviewing me while I was scrutinizing her makeup and clothes. and her accessories. I’m sure she just put on moisturizer and compact powder to her honey-colored face. I could see soft eyeliners and mascara accentuated her big dark brown eyes. And that wine colored blush-on. And fresh lip gloss.

For the first time in, I don’t know… twenty light years? I saw a beauty that didn’t threaten me. In that green kenzo-like dress and green pump shoes, Medea was even more relieved to see me without makeup (yet). Even so, she dropped her jaw for a good 1 minute and later explained why she did that.

“Wow… You look great. Like this, like this. I love your movies. I’m like, your fan. Thank God I come here as a journalist, otherwise I would be very annoying to you right now. Hahaha..” She laughed nervously. But, I liked her honesty. So, I gave her a hug and set my bitchiness level lower.

She put her tote bag aside and took out her recorder and a notebook and a pencil (just in case, I guess). Her hair was just naturally beautiful. Long and silky and she brushed it just like that. No hair stylist touch. Pretty. Without much effort. And, I must say she reminded me of myself thirty years ago. When parties were less. And I worried more about boyfriends than skin pores.

At the end of our interview, she asked me about the beauty secret I would apply that night for the movie premiere. Half of the things I said slipped off her mind just like that, and she didn’t even pretend to be familiar with the brands. “Whoa, when was the last time you did your make up like I do?”

Great minds think alike.

But that night, Kenny and Rudolph worked hard to do my hair and makeup. Paparazzis wouldn’t agree to girls like Medea or even to  my wildest dream. But, it was really good to remember, there is another form of beauty to admire, the natural beauty. When she is running and laughing and not worrying about what would come out on the tabloids the next day.

Prospect Theory

People who visit this blog don’t expect to read about Prospect Theory, but I was stuck in traffic jam for 3.5 hours on my way back home from office yesterday, so you’ll never know.

I’m not suddenly having a penchant (thanks to bonbon for introducing me to this word which i find myself more confident writing than pronouncing) for economy or trading, but this theory that was developed by two psychologists named Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky in 1979, brought psychology further deep into economic analysis. Now you’re beginning to understand why I find this interesting? Thanks

It all began with this experiment in which Kahneman & Tversky asked the participants these questions (which bonbon asked me):

1. which one would you choose: A. 100% possibility to win US$ 3,000 or B. 80% possibility to win US$ 4,000 yet 20% possibility to win nothing

so, for the above positive case, I chose A. I could just pocket the three grands and whistle my way back home or to the christian louboutin shop.

Then, he went on with the second question. similar, yet a bit depressing since it offered the opposite case. the negative. the losing. no expensive shoes.

2. which on would you choose: A. 100% possibility to lose US$ 3,000 or B. 80% possibility to lose US$ 4,000 yet 20% possibility not to lose any dollar

aha! suddenly i became optimistic and philosophical and chose B cos “you got to take risk in life!” and “you got to be optimistic in life!!!”

Then, Bonbon said politely that I got all the answers wrong……….. But, quickly added that he and many other people made the same decisions.

I asked these questions to my friends and the results show that human behavior doesn’t show significant change since 1979, and of course much much much before that. In the positive case, 80% people chose the safe US$ 3,000, while in the negative case, 92% people chose the gambling scenario. Well, my result is not exactly 80% and 92%, it’s actually 85% and 90%.

“We have an irrational tendency to be less willing to gamble with profits than with losses..”
Tvede (1999)

Now, why?

People tend to play safe in gaining, and gamble in NOT losing. In 80% possibility to lose, fat chance we will lose anyway, but it feels good to cling on to the 20% of hope, and later on we can just blame it on the bad luck or destiny or karma…

If we’re so certain of the 20% hope of not losing, why don’t we choose 80% of winning more anyway? 80 is a lot bigger hope than 20. instead we’re afraid of the puny threat of 20% possibility of not getting anything. so, we play safe by taking the US$ 3,000 away with us to the louboutin shop.

Why do I want to be in the comfort zone when it comes to gaining something? Why do I will to gamble when it comes to not losing?

Not only this behavior makes us lose money, or at least not getting the maximum amount we could possibly get, it makes us look like a bunch of mediocre in the game of life.

You can wake up in the morning thinking of how to survive another day, wasting your energy walking on earth trying not to lose. Or you can wake up in the morning thinking you deserve a better deal out of life, utilizing your energy walking on earth trying to win.

honey pot on the top of mount kailash

HB: is retreating to the mount Kailash until further notice.

BB: knows that nobody has scaled the Mount Kailash, but is prepared to brave any hardship on the way to the top in order to find his pot of honey.

Progress Report

Mark was upset with me because I always listened to his family story but I never told him my family story. Not that I planned to hide anything. Some people are just like him, while some others like me: we have our own ways to share stories. But I’m not here to justify myself because basically I got what he wanted. I’m here not to tell him and you about my family (well, probably a little bit, just to make him happy…. and probably to make my parents happy to have them mentioned online where people all over the world can read it – as if). I’m here to give you my progress report.

1. my family. nothing interesting. no progress whatsoever in terms of bank account, broken ceiling, car going to the garage everytime my dad has surprise money (next time don’t discuss money matter in front of the car!). on the other side, we’re a happy family. for example, my dad is so happy catching animal program on tv, seeing his new grand daughter smile at him, helping mom tending the garden, buying me sandwich, etc. my mom is so happy giving bath to my niece every morning and afternoon, feeding her til finish (no one else has her patience), getting money from me every month, tending her garden, watching them grow half a milimeter at a time and the changes of colors, getting her new dress sewed, laughing at dad’s joke (cos it means he is in good mood and her life is easier), etc. my cousin who stays at home with her 2-year-old son is happy when….(i don’t really know when, i’ll take a mental note to start observing). My nephew is happy about almost anything and be sad and angry about few things (being a 2-year-old). Me? I’m happy because I go home to a comfortable place, nice antique bed, having mom as my best friend, being able to lend ears to her everytime she needs someone to listen. Seeing them smile and laugh is the first and foremost reason I ever wanted to come back home instead of just stayed in India and continued my own life’s adventure. So, we’re happy. Everyone’s happy?

Of course, there’s my big brother whom I don’t get to see a lot because he lives 50 meters away from me and works 500 lightyears away from me. HE’s doing fine, I guess. One of the best employees. So best (haha) that the company gave him and his wife a free trip to go umrah. I’m so damn proud!

My younger brother is a whiz kid. He was the only student in his class who didn’t have computer until recently because he has to do his thesis and all of his friends are busy using their own computers. For your information, he’s doing a degree in software engineering and he is the best student in the whole faculty. Beat that! Super proud.

2. about my work. i try to inspire myself to work by buying a cheap netbook (sorry, oreo) cheap and hip! so i can work from any other place that doesn’t smell like an office (just being me, an artist). but the netbook is also for communicating cheaply. the bad thing is that this HP mini 1013 of mine (which has cool casing design) has a useless camera and i have to scream in order to make the voice chat. i’m in the progress of downloading a software that can help the retarded camera (sorry, oreo… i dont blame you for having that kind of camera) work better, but the thing is it works in linux. so i’m on the way to install linux, but there’s something that’s blocking me to do that (maybe firewall), so I’m working on it and will give you further report on that.

3. (is it three? i’m too lazy to scroll up again to check which number was before) I’m working on this story. It’s supposed to be a novel cos I think it’s going to be long. the story is damn awesome, and complicated that now I’m entangled in the research. Like, for example (thinking of Mark saying ‘like, for example’… he has his own cool way of saying it, i might record it one day and attach it here), the main character is a dancer who wants photographers to make good stage photos out of her so she ends up being a stage photographer herself (of course it doesn’t solve the problem, but). and the other character is an artist. It would be easier to write about dancers, but I insist. so the research is fat. while my brain cells were fine-tuning with each other and external vibration (dont mind this), lightning struck me (or a squirrel slap my back and say…): “Duh! You do have a friend who is a stage photographer!!!” which is good, cos that means i can interview him. then the other day i went to cover an opening of a painting exhibition and, okay, my mind squeaked like this:

second 1: hey, that’s my friend over there! Mbak Lina. What’s she doing here? Oh, she’s also an artist, no wonder she’s here.

second 1.25: wait, (mentally check back the invitation) the name of the artist is Lina…

second 2: holy sushi! this is HER exhibition!!!

Mind me, the last time i met her was almost five years ago and many people can be Lina and I never knew her last name. So. Good thing that I have her to help me with my research. I have yet to ask her about that, though, because I’m going to wait til she finishes her one-week exhibition.

4. (i can’t see the previous number cos im too lazy to scroll up but i remember it was 3 cos i remember the dilemma of figuring out whether it was really number 3)

mira and i went to try out the red mango which i think tastes good but not better than sweet mimi of hotel mulia. from there we went to kopi luwak. i wanted to try the celebrated kopi luwak but they sold one with 2% of it and 98% arabica (or was it 20-80?), so i declined and ordered avocado coffee instead (which was ammaaaayyzing i can still feel the taste on my taste bud RIGHT NOW). mira ordered the 2% kopi luwak anyway. and actually they do have the 100% kopi luwak thing, which they sell for Rp 85,000. So, I’m planning to go back there again with mira (chandni, my colleague also offered herself to accompany me. apparently she’s a coffee person,too!) and order a cup to share. Yay!

Oh, then what’s so progressy about it is that it’s part of our culinary adventure. i was supposed to write a review about the frozen yoghurt (red mango), but my mood has directed me some place else.

5. another article i’m supposed to write for this blog is about the result of my mini survey to prove again one theory developed in 1975 about something (i know… ). the survey got boring as i already knew it’s going to the same old direction, but actually the theory itself is damn interesting. how would it not be interesting when around 90% of people (in 1975 and 2009) have chosen the wrong answers?? No, actually it’s not wrong. cos it’s human instinct. but as far as the trading is concerned, it’s super wrong. it’s like: ‘hello? it’s that way, sir.’ (pointing to the other side where rabbits are, instead of the way the man’s going where scorpions are). i know i sound absurd. i will come back later with the report.

see you later, pooh… that if you will manage to find your way back to my tumbling down house, that if i will manage to protect this tumbling down house from missing in action again when the wind comes before you do, which probably unlikely… that is: unlikely to protect and likely to come, if you just understand what i’m saying, but never mind. so long pooh…

Leda on Magdala (2)

No one had ever asked me about Magdala before that last exhibition in Venice took place. Who is Magdala? or even, What is Magdala? Usually I love explaining people about the inspiration, the story, the people, or simply my feeling behind each of my framed painting.But not about this one. Magdala, is a painting I leave people to judge, to guess, to have fun figuring out. It’s like lying on a bed of green grass on top of a hill with your best friend, or husband, or dog, and looking at clouds floating above you. You use your wildest imagination to give each shape a label. I spotted a broken bowl that spilled fruit loops out of its crack, once. Or two holding hands with one butterfly in one of the hands. Most of the times I make out all sort of transportations (from bicycle to jet plane) that could bring me far away from here, back to where clouds only shape Magdala.