What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

The future belongs to those who has yet to question its promise
Melanie McGrath – Hard, Soft and Wet

When I was little I want to be a war journalist. My mom was a journalist and everyone from mom side of the family was involved with either journalism or publishing of some sort. I’m not sure what the fascination for me was, may be it’s the war and conflicts. I’m naturally attracted to it thru some Freudian incidents in my childhood.
I remember reading Bharatayudha when I was little and that was my favourite part of the entire Mahabharata saga. The glorious final battle with of heroes and mystical legends. It’s an elaborated version of the boss level in Double Dragon. Then it was the final battle in Return of the King. The Tolkien days. Then it was Kenneth Brannagh’s Henry V and Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket. For a long time my favourite book was the Longest Day.

I went to Yemen once, only because that was the nearest chance to see a war up close and personal. A friend of mine lives in San’a and at the time there was a raging civil war out there. I flew in and went on a jeep ride to see the front. Not really too close, it was 2 km or so from the nearest mortar fire though we felt the earth shook at night.
Or may be it was my chest..
I spent two nights out there and get to pretend like I was in a war.

Next was in Jakarta during the riot. I had to get mom all the way in Salemba where she worked in the middle of chaos.

That night the city was engulfed in rage and the sky turned red. I remember driving across town and finding Gatot Soebroto (this is one of the two main arteries of Jakarta) completely in the dark. No more neon lights and pretty faces on the billboard. It was dark from end to end except for random groups of guys burning things here and there. Nobody in their right mind would venture far since there were roadblocks everywhere with gangs and mobs demanding everything from everyone in sight. The city erupted into a war zone within 24 hours. I barely arrived in the country then and was full of the excitement to witness history. I wanted to be there. It was sad to see the city burn, but it was the beginning of the end. We wanted change.

The atmosphere was tense since we had experience with the Old Man. Soeharto had a long history of coming back with a vengeance against any sorts of uprising and for years Jakarta was the last fortress of stability: nothing ever happened in town.
Bad shit happens in rural areas where we don’t know anyone, but nothing ever happen in the capital. So when it actually happened - and happened bad - the city got shit scared.
You could feel fear in the air. There were soldiers everywhere and there were tanks on the streets. The first night they were in panic mode trying to secure important places and contain the riots. The second day they were marching and it was a show of force to send people back into their houses. We never know if those tanks would turn and shoot us instead. It could happen anytime.
I had to drive across town to get mom from the other end, she was stuck after work past the curfew. It was frantic and it was one of the scariest shit I have ever done. I don’t think I would ever do anything like that if it wasn’t for her. You don’t drive across town carrying loaded handguns, this isn’t Yemen. There were roadblocks and cars were set to fire here and there. I remember thinking that if I was going to start shooting people then that would be a good time though I never actually had the chance.

So that was exciting (nothing happened to me, I got mom and brought her home safely).

That was as close as I’ve ever been to war zones and so far I’ve given up wanting to be a war journalist. (If you really wanna see some good war journalism, check out Nachtwey's, he's supreme)

I also want to be a bank robber. It’s pretty cool, like Robert De Niro kind of heist.