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Random Act of Kindness
When you carry out acts of kindness you get a wonderful feeling inside. It is as though something inside your body responds and says, yes, this is how I ought to feel. Nikita Wong. Wongy. Wongkie. Wongkitongkie. Ms. Wong. Nikita. Whatever name you know me by. This is my ranting and rambling on the memoirs of the olden days, the excitement of the present days, and the anticipation of the future. This is me, uncensored. |
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Design: doughnutcrazyIcon: morphine_kissed |
A decade
While I was at work today, I looked through news headlines. One that says, "1998-2007 warmest decade.." caught my eyes immediately. A decade already? My little brain starts to wonder.Thinking back to the year 1998 - what did I do that year, where was I, who was I in 1998? Old memories came running through - all jumbled and mixed up. Which one happened when? Not sure. I remember in May 1998 - I was at home, in front of my computer. Logged on to ICQ. Chatting with two of my friends who live overseas. One was in Melbourne, Australia and the other one was in Austin, USA. The TV was showing a live report of the riot that was happening outside. Masses of people with banners, some equipped with a stick or whatever else they could find. Burning smokes in the background. They were screaming and shouting. Not a very nice look. There I was reporting to these 2 friends of mine of what is happening in the country. My parents were outside my room - franticly packing. They wanted me to get a move on. Despite all the questions that I had, I followed suit. Out of all possession that I have - I chose to "save" my plastic toy box full of diaries. At that point of time, those were my most precious possession. All my writing journals since the beginning of 1993. We went to our Muslim neighbor's house just at the end of the alleyway next to our house. Many people have gathered there. You just can smell the tension. People were actually scared. For some reason, I wasn't. I was too young and naive to realise the severity of the event. I always thought (and still do) that it's not about whether you are a Muslim or a Native-Indonesian or a Chinese-Indonesian. It was simply about good people and bad people and jealous people and the victims of jealousy. That day, of course, went down in Indonesia's history. The 1998 Indonesian Revolution. Around that point of time, I remember I was saying to my Dad that when I get into university, I want to be an activist. My Dad gave me his "what the f**k" look. And now, it has been 10 years since. I am in AIESEC - trying to change the world. A-hah! I always knew that I have it in me. |