ain't LIFE's a funny thing!

"For Good"

2010-06-28T03:45:00.003+08:00

I know that nothing is certain yet until I get my semester result. I know that this might not be the end. I know that.

But it does feel like ending, you know? Everything is.

It is so true when people say you always want what you can't have. Whenever I am here, away from home, I always feel like I want to go back home, and kiss all the people there because I miss them so much. But now. Now, that the end of this life of mine is ending, I feel different. So, so different.

It's not like I want to stay here in Malaysia. Truth is, three years in here is sort of enough for me. But I realize that I don't want to let go of this life. The life where I can be my own person, where I can build personalities here and there, where home is simply something you miss. I like the fact that I can miss the idea that there is a home for me, waiting out there somewhere. I like the carelessness, the mess and dirty laundries, and the injustice that eat my heart out but got me learning to stand up for myself. Most of all, I like the excitement of exploring new things, and not being tied down.

Maybe this is what those commitment phobic guys are feeling: a sense that there is safety out there that you can simply yearn for, no less no more. Simply yearning for it, not trying to get it.

The thing is... home is there, whether you like it or not. And sometimes, when you are offered something so endlessly certain and stable, you just fear it. The fear of being tamed, being tied down and stuck in a routine of a place you can smell from far away. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my home. Jakarta is such a crazily beautiful place. My house, my family, my friends back there are simply gifts from heaven. I love my 'home'. And it's not like I'm a commitment phobic or anything. It's just... I don't know. Maybe the fact right now that the end of this part of my life is approaching... I realize that there is something wrong with the phrase 'for good'.

I sound like a seed of a runaway-bride, I know. But 'for good', which around here is the phrase we use to term those who will leave the place and won't come back again for a permanent stay, right now looks like a long, straight road that is filled with dimmed lights and no other car but yours. There is just so much you can see, that the end of the road is nowhere to be found. And, right now, my car has its brake broken, so it has to move on. But the road is still so long, and it is so straight, so boring. I am trying to keep my eyes from dozing off. And my feet are pushing the gas, my eyes are looking ahead, my left hand on the sticks... And everything is muscle memory. I am in m comfort zone, and all I can think of is I want to just turn the steering wheel to the left and right and do a zigzag dance and go off to another street... a strangers street.

I want to smell another culture. I want to see another road. I want to taste another air. I want to hear another siren.

I want to have a place called home that I can go to. And not yet stay in.

Goodness God! Ugh.

Metamorphosis

2010-06-06T23:48:00.002+08:00

June 6th 2010, 11:50 p.m. malaysian time.

I would just like to remember the exact time I write this, because I might be as labile as a rollercoaster ride for the next few weeks.

It would be just short of two months left for me within my undergraduate study. (And I am not jinxing it. No No No!! I want to graduateeeeee) But anyhoo, yes. I don't know how time passes so fast.

It's weird, though. When I was in my third or fourth semester, time feels like moving in a snail pace. Every late-nights to finish assignments, every laugh and dare I do with my good friends, every controversy that seems like such a huge thing at the time... It was so packed with things that a night feels like it is worth memories for a whole year. It's pretty hard to explain it.. It's like, everything moves so fast and changes so much that time feels like moving slower...... Get it? No? Sigh.

But that doesn't matter. The point is, when you get into the (possible) end of a phase (please please let me graduateeee!), everything suddenly moves slower, and time moves faster. For me, I have never really hung out around campus that much.. But as this might be my last semester, I suddenly find myself hanging around campus a lot. I make good friends with people I am always just friends with, and campus suddenly seems so nostalgic. It's as if all the orange colors of the building, and the Bubble teas, and the dimly lit lecture halls, have those sephia effects that you find in a photo-editing softwares. The Campus suddenly looks so nice, and I found myself missing it already.. because time moves so fast when the changes were so good.

Well, I shall not be nostalgic now. I mean, I haven't got through my exam period yet! (not jinxing it.. not jinxing it..)
But this got me thinking about how we live like a butterfly.

..wait. HAHAHAHA that sounds so lame.

What I mean is, we live through phases. All the time. I think my first phase is when I lived in Batam, my early childhood that I forget easily (and regretfully). And then I move to another phase: the religious building of Islamic Village, where I spent my grade school until I finished Junior High. It was the time I found the foundation of my life. And the the next phase is my High School, a very private space that is glamorous and tragic at the same time. It was the best days of my life. And I am at the last steps of my fourth phase, where I move into a strangely unfamiliar but familiar land.. when I first live by myself.

What I can still remember quite clearly is the time I leave my third phase, the High School period. I felt like I was invincible. I felt like I would be able to take whatever life's given me, and I would stand my ground. Me and my High School best friends.. we always know what we want. We are a group of people that mature quite early. However, now that I am finishing my current phase.. Oh my. I feel like Rose in Titanic.. like I have to hold on for dear life, but the water's been pulling me down so hard and it is so cold (because she's in, like.. what? Atlantic or something?). I lose every foundation I so carefully built, and it was so hard to hold on to that one piece of wood and not just let me be drowned, and leave it be.

The point is, as phases come and go, your sense of self is also being reconstructed constantly. As natural as it may seem, think about it. You are not yourself five years ago.. Probably not even a bit. Knowledge and interaction have a way to make you think that kindness is naive, justice is a myth, and belief is a perception. As hard as you want to hold on to your past self/selves, it will go away. And you just have to keep working, and working, and constantly working to build a better self.
Then again, something that is 'better' is just one point of view of a mysterious end.

In University, I study a lot of philosophies. My lecturers are so open about the world that nothing is right, nothing is wrong. And that's the only way to see the world, I think.

Sometimes, I think worms are so lucky. They just sleep for a bit and change into a butterfly. It seems so easy.
But after that, I think again. Butterflies will fly free.. and with that freedom, it might end being eaten by a bigger being or sprayed by gardening poison.

It really is funny how everything works out if you think about it. Time goes on, it doesn't care about anything else but the fact that it keeps on ticking. But then life changes.. phases comes and go and comes and go and etcetera etcetera. And, the only thing that you can count on is yourself. But your sense of self is an abstract thing. So where do we begin, and where do we end?

I can only find one solution to these madness: stories are told, and it would never ever end. So make stories, memories and little funny anecdotes.. That is how you make sense of all these overlapping metamorphosis around.

Good luck! :)

Existentialism

2010-04-19T21:39:00.003+08:00

What is the point to our existence?

I took a step today.
Right foot was lifted slightly on the air,
I pushed it forward,
then put it down.

And the sidewalk was okay.

So I lifted my left foot,
and do the same thing all over again.
It was a mechanism in my brain,
something that is so scientific,
that I don't question it anymore.

And then I was standing in front of my campus.

I looked at my watch,
the time is constantly ticking.
Why do I bother?
Why do I place my whole life around the idea
that there is only twenty-four hours in a day?
But that is what was taught of me,
and I sit upright, listening to ideologies,
ideas, perspectives,
and go out when the lecture ends.
That is what was taught of me.

The bell rings seven times,
It's the end of the day.

I was home,
surrounded by people that I love.
I love them,
and at times I feel like they love me.
This world is surrounded by love.
George Bush loves America.
Osama Bin Laden loves his family.
Sid loves Nancy.
Homer loves himself.
Then Bush is hated by his own people.
Osama is forced to hide from the face of the world.
Sid is dead, and did not get his last wish to be buried with Nancy.
And Homer is deemed idiotic.

So I took a step,
And found myself alone in my room.

In perfect solitude,
questions with no answers were asked.
Why did I take a step, I move, I hinder and ponder,
and not feel anything?
Why did my body become docile
to this environment, this idea, this religion?
Why did I love and feel nothing?

What is the point to our existence?

And why,
why do you have to go so soon, my dear Prophet?

Because we need guidance
to stop killing
stop smirking
stop lying
stop pretending
and just live as it is.

What is the point, now?

The Edge of Motherhood

2010-04-08T23:33:00.002+08:00

Let’s not do this. No, no. Yes, I’m in. Yes, you’re inside me. Yes, the sun is shining warmly above us, the wind caressing my belly and your butt. Yes, the roar of splashing waters exists not. There’s only my head I hear, loud. Unclear.

I am serious here.

I’m searching for fantastical stories to share, laughter to dare. What to call you, dearest Teddy Bear? Harry, Larry, Barry, Weary? Mark, Clark, Stark, Bark? George, with W or without, I’m out. I am the blackest white on this height. I am BLACK. I am WHITE. I am a mother, I am not. I am a WOMAN, with or without. Well, what the hell is not. Freedom lingers with various game, that we sound so different but we’re just the same. We don’t have valid extended guns in our hands.

I am dead serious, man.

Haha. You make ma laugh. What I am is a thing with no feeling. I heard the clock ticking, Tick tock tick tock. Your heart beating, like drums breathing. I hear the whisper in my ear and the flow of the breeze. I hear the growl of the wind, slapping you, and me. We are slapped, but we stay still. As still as the sun shining above. I am a mother, I am not. ‘I am a mother,’ my mother said. Am I my mother? Yes? No? Does not matter. Apology accepted, thank you. But this is too late.

Fucking fate.

Fucking compensate.

Fucking height.

And I fall on my back,

Flat.

Dead.

Cheers, mate.

J.S. Nasution/Oma, R.I.P.

2010-03-28T05:34:00.002+08:00

"Dreams burn... But in ashes are gold..." -Kings of Convnience

About a month ago, I saw Oma at her house. I wanted to brag about my (broken) francais, but then Oma started to talk to me in this very fluent French and I can only said "Bonjour...?".
But that's not what's important. A month ago, Oma said that I should not study too hard and start seeing "the other side of life", which means the lives of those that are not as lucky. I smiled, at that time remembering that I just wrote on my last blog post that she is one of the factors that got me interested in social work.

Who knew that it would be the last time I saw her?

Exactly a week ago, Oma passed away.

It breaks my heart to this very second to just remember it, remember that the last time I saw her, I hugged her and said "Okay, Oma. I will be gone for only a while, and then I'll come back here and work for you. So you gotta be healthy, okay. You gotta see me graduate."; remember the first time here, in KL, I got the news that Oma got checked in into the hospital just after saying that Opa was waiting for her at the front door; remember my rage the first time I heard she was getting worse, and my not willing to let her go yet because I was so far away; and remember very vividly the phonecall from my brother informing that Oma had passed away.

I have written about her, as a person, as a role model, in my last blog post. There, is my image of her, and I need not talk about it some more.

It's just... I miss her, you know. And I am far from home, in a place where responsibilities tie me to the ground. And all I heard is my family all gather and letting go of Oma together. Sometimes there is a kind of sadness and lost that you can't just let go with one big sob. This kind of lost crawls very slowly in your heart. 20 minutes ago, I feel fine. Now, I miss her. I miss the comforting hugs of my family. And I want very badly to be beside her grave, and pray. To collectively read Yasin for the first seven days. Because the scene where she told me to stop studying so hard has been playing on my mind, non-stop. It just keeps on playing.. like a broken record from heaven.

The only thing that keeps me from creating a series of pitiful big sobs now is the image that at the very least, Oma would be playing those records with Opa and her little Ade Irma now.

And somehow it sounds like a warm embrace.

I love you, Omapung. Give my kisses and hugs for Opa. Tell him I still love writing, and I still love books.
And I miss both of you.

Sleep in peace.

Johana Sunarti Nasution, gender-unrelated.

2009-12-04T00:56:00.003+08:00

So.
This morning I’d just been to the commemoration of my late Opa, who is a National Hero here in Indonesia. It was held in his former resident, which now has this huge statue up front with the sign “Museum Jend. A.H. Nasution” on it. It was the first time I’ve been to the place since it was turned to be a museum, and I was very curious to see how it was like.
The event was okay. A lot of people who are the witnesses of history went up to the stage and share some anecdotal stories about the great General. People were very passionate about it, and it kind of moved your soul too. They were no ordinary stories. It was stories that shaped the nation, and if a detail was changed, the whole future that we’re living in now might most probably be a lot different.

The most interesting part was when my Oma sat up front. She is very old now, in her 80s. She told me that her sight started to fail her, and that everything is gray from her eyes. It appears to be sad when she told you that, but when she started talking about history… she is a whole another woman.

One story of the PKI (Indonesian Communist Party) coup d’etat made me shiver all over.

It was the night the Cakrabirawa (President’s Private Army) came over to high-ranked Generals’ houses, bearing the name of President Soekarno, and killed almost every one of those Generals. And then they arrived at Opa’s house at Teuku Umar street no. 40. After killing all the guards up front, some of the Cakrabirawas slowly stepped into the house.
Oma narrated that she was inside her bedroom with Opa and Ade Irma, their youngest. When she heard a call for Opa from outside the door, she asked calmly: “Who is that?” “We are the Cakrabirawa,” the answer came. At this time, Ade Irma was carried by Ompung Mardiah, a relative of Opa. It was silent for a while until Oma opened the door a little.
BANG!!! A shot went through the small space and Oma directly close the door again. She looked back. Opa was lying on the floor, unhurt. Seeing that there would be no shot anymore, he got up and told Oma: “Let me go out and speak to them.” Oma said: “What, are you mad?! They are trying to kill you, Nas. Do you want to be dead?” “They won’t kill me,” Opa said. So, hesitantly, Oma went to the door again, and opened it a little.
BANG! BANG!! A couple of shots got in again. A state of panic was created. Oma told Opa to go out from back, climb the wall into the Iranian Ambassador’s house next door, and hide there. While Opa was running outside with his sarong, Ompung Mardiah screamed: “Ade’s been shot! Ade’s been shot!”
Oma took Ade Irma from her hand and ran out to see Opa. Opa was on the wall, just a jump away from the protection of Foreign Law, when he saw the blood from Ade’s body. In an instant, he inclined to move back to see Ade. Oma was angry. She said: “They are after you, not me, not Ade! Now go!!” After a series of shot to the wall, Opa jumped to the Iranian Ambassador place. Oma ran back inside.
When she reached the dining room, there, welcoming her, were five Cakrabirawa soldiers holding terrifying rifles directed at her. Ade’s blood was draining like a waterfall. Oma stayed in her place, unmoved, not intimidated. And she said: “You bastards. Pak Nas has gone to Bandung for two days now. You don’t believe me? You go to Bandung and see him for yourself there. Are you here just to kill Ade? Is that the reason you’re here, to kill an innocent child? You inhuman bastards.”

I was told that the Cakrabirawa was hesitant at that time, looking over each other, before they went out to go kill other Generals.

Do you know why this particular story stayed on my mind? It’s because Oma, as ordinary as she is, is the strongest woman I’ve ever seen. She is the proof that it does take a woman to make the strong, macho, cold-blooded highly-trained soldiers of Cakrabirawa to hesitate. And it takes a woman to decide what is best for the nation: she can die with one gunshot from one of the long rifles of Cakrabirawa, but she knows that whatever happens Opa has got to live because he is the brilliant mind, the patriot, and the Witness of History. It takes a woman to run out and see the Cakrabirawa off, and to decide that the place is secure.

When they buried Ade Irma Surjani, Oma was not hysterical. When we all buried Opa, my mother was more hysterical than her. When her own daughter, this morning, cried in front of her because of her decreasing health, she kept her calm face. When asked about her sickness, she said she was ready. When told about her declining disease, she just smiled jokingly and looked at me and said: “So how is your school life, Firce?”

All her life, Oma shows me that it is important to hold your ground, to be knowledgeable, and to give to others. She has foundations scattered all over the country.
Feminism is one movement, one train of thought. In this modern world, we are too focused with ideologies and thoughts and voices.

I have quite the feminist mind, but I account myself to never, ever be able to stay unmoved, unscattered when there are five rifles pointed at me, absent husband, no lights, and my youngest child bleeding severely in my arms, asking “What did Ade do wrong?”
Just thinking about it, I think I’d cry like a baby, with knees shivering like crazy and begging for mercy at the hand of the soldiers.

But not Oma. She is not just a feminist, peeps. She is one of those strongest soul ever appear on earth, gender-unrelated.

Yes. Gender-unrelated.

"life is a song" - Patrick Park

2009-10-26T04:12:00.002+08:00

...

"...There's no telling where we'll be in a day or in a week
And there's no promises of peace or of happiness..."
-that is true, isn't it? I mean, see it this way: when you found out that you've finished your studies, get a job that screams "MONEY!", and maybe even some lotteries here and there... those still won't promise you something called happiness or inner piece.

"...Well is this why you cling to every little thing
And polverize and derrange all your senses..."
-then maybe someday when you get your own children, and see them walking step by step, going on a stage. And you see them getting diplomas with a full toga uniform. Then just before they go down the stage, they'll look at you. And smile. And maybe, just maybe, at that time you will find inner piece. There are always this littlest thing that reminds you of who you are and who you've become, and sometimes the biggest thing in the world cannot top that. Home, a mother's hug, a stranger's helping hand, to your first earned wage.

"...You're chained to your history, you're surely sinking fast..."
-It is funny how life sometimes works, isn't it? Time is funny. Because life would take you back, to nostalgic times full of memories, and that would help you to get on with your present life, away into the future. However, bad things happen, and sometimes they are all we remember. Maybe it's about how you treat the past, the memories. Do you let it motivate you? Or would you spend a great deal of time looking for it, to mend it in the present time?

"...You say that you know that the good Lord's in control..."
-Life works in doublings: good/bad, day/night, women/men. Well, there are people who believe in God, and there are atheists. There are people who uses their belief for reasons, and there are people who simply just believe it and does not question. But one thing is for sure for those who have beliefs: we believe that there is destiny and fate. Or maybe just coincidences. Po-tay-to Po-tah-to. A belief would demand us to believe that God's hand is always in control. And as much as any one of us says it, and tries to believe it, we do what we always do: forget. Here is another doubling: process/result. God has the result, and it is up to us on how the process goes.

"...And won't you tell me why you live like you're afraid to die
You'll die like you're afraid to go..."
-There are only two certain things in this world: nothing is certain but time and death. Time would always move on, and on, and on. It will not stop, not until the end of the earth comes by. And for us lively beings, time would go until death comes along. Everybody will be dead, somewhere somehow. And it is funny how we are so afraid of dying, as if life means everything to us. And what do we do most of the times when we're alive? We suffer, because life comes in a pack with obstacles. Or maybe we are afraid that we haven't done everything in order. But think of this: would you rather be in denial of death, or know your unknown closing scene exists? Either way, better be prepared.

"...Well life is a dream 'cause we're all walking in our sleep
You could see us stand in lines like we're dead upon our feet
And we build our house of cards and then we wait for it to fall
Always forget how strange it is just to be alive at all ..."
-And to close things up, this song is a reminder of how life is short. This is not to make you think pessimistically, and I don't think most of us are ready to think optimistically, but there is no harm to keep in mind the shortness of our existence. Do not stand in lines, but do something to make it worthwhile. Keep the good things that you already have, and do not screw it up. If the good thing turns to bad, then fate might be whispering to you that the thing is not the plan for you. And if it is true that our whole life is presumably planned, then remember that the fact that we are alive at all is very strange in itself. Why do we born? For what purposes were we created to live on this earth?

There is a chain that connects one life to another. We all exist to make a change, consciously or unconsciously, on the life of at least one other being. We do not write our own story. We do not really have the final say about our closing scene. But we are here for the sake of the next person. One dies, so that other could be born. It is very strange, and questions are out there without answers.

It's a matter of choice: Do you keep asking, or do you let it be?

We went here high, we left here dry.

2009-10-11T02:15:00.003+08:00

Hey! So sorry I've been hibernating for the past weeks!

Anyways. This early Sunday morning I have this sudden urge to update my blog, and write about this one thing that a friend of mine had asked me to write about a couple of months before: the experience of being away from home.

Well, first things first, a short background work. It has been two and a half years after I first moved to Malaysia for study. I know it's judged as fairly close from home... I mean, you don't need that much time difference, not like if say you're studying in the great UK or US or even New Zealand. Malaysia is just below two hours by plane, and the culture is very similar.
Howeverrr... once you get on board, nothing is easy. Maybe it is a bit easier with the similar culture and a better possibility for your relatives to come and visit you (hence, the less homesickness), but basically it doesn't matter where you study. It is never easy.

As building a home away from home, here are some things that I have learned during my experiences here:

1.) Build your own semi-family
What I mean by semi-family is a circle of close friends. Because in most cases you would not have an actual blood relatives near you, your close friends are the closest thing you can get. But believe me, making friends is not easy around here. In high school, you might have an everlasting best friend that you still keep in touch until now. One good possibility why it's easier back then: because at that time, you don't spend most of your days with them. While in semi-family circles, you don't just group together for hanging out, having fun, and do homeworks. You actually cook for one another, being there when one of them is not feeling well, shop for your monthly need, and provide comfort when homesickness attacks. And that's only the good part. The downside with this is that, being too close with a friend might brings out their really annoying behavior that you couldn't stand. While in families, you are stuck with them; with friends, you can always let them go. So it is not easy to stay with a circle of semi-family, because after some times, you might realize that it is not about them. It's about ourselves and how we deal with things.
Another reason the word semi- is put in there is because that is how the relationship is. However close you are, however deeply you've grown in caring about them, you still have to find times for yourself. Just like in a relationship: when you got too clingy, you got dumped. Find times to pamper with your self, times to hang out with other friends, and times to read, and sing, and do embarrassing things all by yourself.

2.) Learn to prioritize
In every story, when a teenager who comes from a very family-minded environment suddenly found freedom in time, everything got ruined. The first time I got here, I was very much in love with my freedom. I went out almost every night, going here and there, trying new places as if that is why we come here. After some time, though, the freedom started to feel wrong. Well, yes, I didn't fail any of subjects in my first semester, but it does not feel right. So I learned to prioritize.
People, this is one of the most significant thing you'll find by living by yourself. Priorities are not just created for shrinks or self-help books, but they actually are the key for a good life. Learn what your first priority is. For us students, it is pretty obvious. We study. We might play hard (too hard in some cases), but the first thing on our list is we got to finish what we come here for. We need to get a degree, and come close on the second place on our list are most probably making connections for the future. And this is where the play hard comes about. We go to clubs, lounges, cafes, malls, events, etc. to make friends, so that maybe one day those knowledges we had and experiences we've tasted would be functional in the future. So, make sure you know your priorities. Believe me, it would save you from a whole experience of regrets, waste, heartbreak, and uselessness. (Although after prioritizing you life might be seen as dull and flat and not that interesting, but that is how life really is for most of us.)

3.) Be responsible
I know, I know. This post sounds like a boring self-help article. But come on, you know what responsibility is. It is what you do for yourself, and not for others. You pay the bills on time, you work your studying schedule, you hand in assignments, attend classes, socialize. You clean your room, do your laundry, eat healthy. And when someone ask you to do something for them, and you say yes, then you have to do that. This is not for that someone, but more for you, because everything that you do for someone sincerely would definitely go back in a positive air for you. And no, this is not bull shit.
For the things I mentioned above, it might be seen as cliche. Well, yes, some of it are cliches. I mean, eat healthy is like a myth for us here. But at the very least, know what you got and be responsible for that. It is a never-ending burden, but it's a sense of accomplishment. No one can get away from responsibilities.

4.) Open your mind
Being away from home opens your eyes to possibilities, differences, and varieties that exist in this life. Some stereotypes are true, and some are not. The least you can do is open your mind for all these differences and possibilities. If you keep off from doing things because you are scared or not confident enough, remember this: everybody is lacking. One might be able to speak fluent English, but he is rude. One might not speak clear English, but he is very easygoing. One might be the smartest guy and the most arrogant of the bunch. One might lack intelligence, but at least he had a good deal of fun. And another one might have it all... you just don't get what comes from his background.
The point is, there is never a need to feel ashamed because of your lack. As long as you accept it, it would be okay. There might be times when people laugh at your mispronouncing or accents, but screw them. First option: you can think of how funny some people's accents are and get the joke. Second option: you can care less because they are some bunch of narrow-minded people who thinks highly of themselves. Third option: block it from your mind, and just forget about it.

There are basically so many things you can get from living abroad by yourself. Some things hit you pretty hard, some things bring out the good in life. I have my own semi-family here, and we've watched each other grow in time and I just can't help but fall in love with these contrasting characters (I hates stereotypes while one of us loves stereotypes and joke about them. One of us is final in decision about friendship, either you do or you don't, while some are actually don't mind that much about being the recycling bin and the safe bet). I've prioritized my studies pretty hardly now, and I rarely go out anymore. I've come to be responsible about my own money, my offerings, my decision, although not really the cleanliness of my room. And I have opened my mind into the world of crazy, lacking people that just basically need attention underneath it all.

I heard somebody said before: "No one is older than a high school senior, and no one is younger than a college freshmen".
This might be confusing, but it is true. Everything that you feel like you have discovered in your whole life through school, will be reconstructed and challenged when you've come to the realm of university. More so if you leave home at that time. There is no argument that nothing is easy in this world. These are just some cliched wisdoms and experiences I thought I'd share with you.

Being away from home is a surprised mirror of yourself. Cope with it, embrace the lacks, and just have fun while you still have it your way now! :)

As if we live to follow things

2009-08-26T05:22:00.002+08:00

At first, it was the Rasa Sayange song. Now we got the Pendet dance.

For those who don't know what I'm mentioning above, it's all those things that has been on the news (kind of obsessively is Indonesia and very hidden here in Malaysia). Basically the claim is that Malaysia has been using (or stealing, as the public believed) Indonesian culture for their own purpose. Claiming an ownership, one might say.

When I first heard about the Rasa Sayange debacle, honestly, I was quite furious myself. It's like someone is stealing something that is a part of you, a fabric out of your nationality clothe. I resent the fact that Malaysia has the bravery to do so. As time goes by, many other things were also claimed as been stolen. And, as time passed too, I found myself partly blaming my own country. As in, why do you get mad when in the first place you haven't been able to keep your own culture safe? It's a 50-50 thing. You can't blame only a side of it, there's always two sides of everything.

It has been a year since the Rasa Sayange case, and now the Pendet dance case shows up. And I found my mind screaming: "WHAT THE HECK?!" I thought it was a yesterday subject, but it just doesn't end. It seems like the media has found a new way to provoke a sentiment over nations, and somehow it becomes their new guilty pleasure. The Indonesians are all: "Why can't they keep to their own culture? Why, don't they have something to be proud of as well? Why do they keep stealing our stuff?" While the Malaysians are... well, i don't know how the Malaysian reacts. It's such a sensitive subject here, I guess, that everything is sort of silent and nobody really care. But one thing for sure. The Malaysians don't feel like they're stealing anything. As the saying goes, a thief wouldn't come out as a thief.

So, once, in a global culture studies, I raised this subject in my class. True, many of the Malaysians didn't know, while back in Indonesia it was all the rage. But, a semester later, when I brought up this subject again, one of my classmate - a Malay Chinese, in fact - argued back as he laughed simply: "well, it's just funny how they make such a fuss out of it. I mean, look at it this way. We've come from same ancestors, and we grew up knowing more or less the same culture. We are both exotic in the eyes of the Western world. I grew up playing Congklak, and so does the Indonesian. Some call it stealing, some call it claiming ownership. But is it really a matter to fight over about? We are so close geographically, we are so close historically, and we just are side by side in most of the ways. It's just funny when you think about how the rage came along."

A part of me was like: "easy for you to say. Your country is developing better with its tricky ways, and you're comfortable with taking something that is ours." But another part of me couldn't help but agreeing to what he said. When you think about it, our language is not that different. Our physicality is not that different. But there's just all these sentiments in the air. There has always been.

With the Pendet case fussing around, I opened my Facebook page and saw a link that a cousin of mine posted. He said that all these cases of stealing and infuriating differences are actually just an imperialist thing, an agenda to blur our religious values by the imagined feeling that is nationality.
It could be true, I guess. But then again, by bringing in religion, he's actually bringing in another sensitive subject. More sensitive than nationality, if you ask me.

The thing is, we live surrounded by all these imagined feelings, something that we never really understand thoroughly. Nationality produces patriotism in our hearts, but when you think about it, we don't know where the roots are from. Yes, our ancestors died for our independence. But when the new colonization came in the shape of Western culture (Hollywood clothing, etc), we're not really mad. Not the majority of Indonesian know the way to do Pendet dance or where it came from, but then we're all mad when it's claimed by another country. Maybe it's just like when a singer is mad seeing his pirated album. We live and de for our country, when the real shape of a nation-state is just an instrument of the governments, of people with their hidden agenda. Basically, I believe that governments with all their politics are the dirtiest kind of dirt. It has been that way since the time of the Roman Empire, or perhaps earlier. It has been a dirty game that sacrifices pure hearts.
And still, we fought for our country.
And religion. Nobody really understands religion wholly, why we do prayers, why we fast, why we live in rules and conventions hat prevents us from all sorts of things. Why we believe in heaven and hell, in stories of life after death. We have never understand it. And that is why it is called faith. You gotta have faith, or else you'll lose your way. It's a simple formula. Something that we don't really understand, but we were taught to follow, to agree. To obey in our incomplete comprehension.
And still, we'd die for our faith.
There is also the obscurity of peace, of culture, of global/local. We don't understand, and it might not exist, but we follow.

As if we live to follow things.

In the world of imagined feelings and imagined discourses that is surrounding us, rationality doesn't have a place. You can't rationalize nationalism of religion. You can't rationalize the rage of Indonesians. You can't rationalize the silence of Malaysians. As well as you can't really rationalize madness and greed.
I guess it's part of being human.

As the Pendet dance case follow, the Malaysian government apologized. They promised to clear the matter directly, and that it was out of their control, and not under their authority.

Will there be another case like this again in the future?
I'm 99% sure of it.

Artsy arrogance

2009-08-15T21:05:00.002+08:00

Sooo.

I was just attending class the other day, and we talked about the high vs low culture.
before continuing to more details, maybe it'd be better if i explain the two terms. Basically, high culture is defined as culture that is made for some selective people who are 'educated' enough, like Opera and Virginia Woolf's novels. While low culture is simply the culture made for 'mass' people, the 'common', the general class in society, like Television shows, pop songs, and Sophie Kinsella's novels.

basically, what happens is, people is high culture has high chins, a.k.a they look down on the 'commons'. It's some sort of: "Look at those people. Pity, they can be so happy watching soap operas. Pity, they don't know any better." While the mass audience don't care. They take texts as a refreshing machine, and you're not supposed to think more when you are trying to refresh your mind.

Now, back to the discussion.
In fact, in class, my tutor says that a lot of people nowadays doesn't believe in this kinds of separation anymore. They believe that there's no such thing as a high culture and a low culture. There's only culture.

Well, i don't think so.

I think a lot of people still hold that kind of high artsy arrogance inside themselves, it's just they don't want to be known as possessing them, because then, they would be labelled as a bigheaded basterds. But it's there somewhere, i believe.

Let's just say that A, B and C are friends. and they are just hanging out in a coffee shop, sharing opinions and stories.
A: "So, I just heard the new Westlife single. MAN! it's soo beautiful! they are practically singing with their hearts!"
B: "You still like Westlife, mate?"
A: "Yeah. I've always been. and I hope for ever more i will still love them!"
B: "Sure, sure." what the heck?? i'm still surprised that a label still want to sign Westlife! For God's sake, they can't make up their own song! "But you should listen to the new Coldplay album, mate. it's so ingenious, it'll blow your mind!"
A: "Yeah, they're a good band. popular!"
B: "Yeah, but not a Pop band, no. They're rockin' hot."
C: "Yeah, well... you gotta say that they're more like a pop rock, man. you don't hear tricky skills in their songs."
B: "Well, what do u think are the band who has that 'tricky skill' u said, mate?" Bigheaded basterd!
C: "I'm not saying that Coldplay is bad, man, no. They're really good. It's just, when you talk about rock, you're talking like Guns'n'Roses, New York Dolls, Aerosmith... you know?
A: "So that's the stuff you're listening to, then?"
C: "Oh, no no. God, no. I listen to jazz."
A: "What, like Jamie Cullum or Emi Fujita?"
C: "No! they're pop singers, mate. great skills, but still not only Jazzy, u kno. I listen to the Jazz kind of Jazz, like George Benson, Herbie hancock, u know. They're the most popular ones, at least."
A: "yeah, yeah..."
C: Man, i doubt you've even ever heard of em.

So, yeah. The conversation I just made up above are definitely not gone from this world. The likes of John mayer and Liam Gallagher loves to speak out their arrogance, their artsiness. but some choose to be quiet, and let their music talk.

I'm not saying there are rights and wrongs in this game. You can be arrogant, high-culture wise. You can actually laugh off ST12's songs when you're listening to Kerispatih. And you can laugh off Kerispatih's songs when you're listening to The Brandals. And you can laugh off The Brandals when you're listening to Slank, let's say.

There's no right and wrong, really. Sometimes arrogance comes naturally. But, when you think about it again, people's ears are different. People's choice can never be the same. My maid at home likes Indonesian soaps, also called as Sinetrons. My mother loves Keenan Nasution, and my dad loves The Mercy's. My brother loves Mr. Big, to Rage against the machine. And I like Arctic Monkeys, The Who, and depressed singers like Damien Rice and Ray Lamontagne.

We like different things, but it doesn't mean that my maid at home is so low cultured. maybe she's the high culture now, because I surely can't find the enjoyment in watching those shows.
What I would like to say in here is, it's okay to have opinion, but it's opinion about what you like and dislike, not about what is stupid and what is genius.

It's a fair game, mates!

Privileged

2009-08-09T01:32:00.003+08:00

So I just got home from a relaxed night at Starbucks with my friends, Arthur and Sarawita.

As per usual, we talked about all kinds of things. But if you want to pull out one single thread from the conversations, tonight's topic is family, and all kinds that surrounds it (from Marriage to Broken home victims).

After thinking deeply about that single word, I personally received a sudden urge to thank God passionately for the family that I have. I am fortunately blessed with a family that stays with tradition and conventions, but in a way that still flows with the rush of modernity (or postmodernity, as we like to call the era today). My father is beyond cool. He's friends with all my brother's and my friends, and he treated our friends like his own children. He knows all the gossips. he makes fun for all of our mistakes. and somehow we learn from him, either indirectly or directly. As for my mother, she is like other mothers: emotional, full of wisdoms to tell, and strict. But she is the ideal woman. She shows me and my brother all the time that she's only human, that there's ups and downs in life, but somehow, as she get through all those gracefully, it shows how super she is. The kind of super powers that only mothers can have, with one popular yet rare ability: to love indefinitely. My one and only brother is a whole other story. I won't be who I am today without him. As annoying as he can be, I learn to live based on his mistakes. He doesn't say much, but he shows me, and maybe let me make my own decision. He's struggling so that I won't struggle as hard in the future (at least that's what I think, but maybe it's just what life offers him: obstacles, so he can be the seed of a great man that he is today).
So I've grown up and live and learn with that privilege.

I've also grown up with the cliche of every girl in the world. I dream of marriage and offering grandchildren for my parents to play with again. But, as we're talking tonight, we realized that building a family is not as easy and beautiful as a girl's daydream. Don't get me wrong, building a family is still my priority until this very second. I would love to have a little girl of a little boy, and I've thought about names now and then (scary, right?? But, well... that's what girls do). But marriage is so much harder today than it was in our parents' time. In their time, a divorce is much considered as a taboo. As time goes by, though, divorce is becoming as easy as it gets. It's something that comes and goes, what with the society's platform today is the celebrities on the media. So it would be a lot harder for us, because the idea of a divorce would come to our mind as something that's considered 'okay'.
For some of us, though, the platform of our lives is still our parents. I am fortunate enough to have a great couple of parents, so they can be my role model. I still remember the story of my mother staying beside my father in Batam, when that place is still a jungle. My mom was used to an easy life, so when she moved to Batam and had to go back to the hard life (e.g. doing everything manually; opening the door to find a snake greeting her; etc.), she was so surprised. But she stayed beside my dad even though the other wives in that area ran back home. She has only one reason when I asked her: "That's what you do when you're married. You sipped the hardness together, and you split the goodness together. It'll be all right in the end."
And I stuck those words in my mind, probably to remind me in my own story in the future.

However, our conversation tonight also went to the unfortunate broken home victims. It's easier for me to believe in all these things when I have a generation of role models to give me a proof. But for kids without a role model?? How would they find their way? I would not speak on their behalf, because I know my place, that I won't understand the pain and phobia which haunt the days of their lives. Some of them won't believe in marriage, or in having children. Some of them went another way: as a commitment phobic, in which they turn to a series of one-night-stands or a series of relationships with an exact expiring date. Most of them (and, by them, I'm talking about the cliches) would find that they've become just like their parents. Some of them thought life is just an endless pool of cruel jokes. The broken home victims and kids who grows in a normal family would see life in a different way, with a completely different minds.
However, please note in here that I am not judging them. Some of the broken home victims might end up in a lot better place that the 'normal' kids, because they learn more. Thus, they know more. Let's get an allegory for this: it's just like if you compare Mualaf (persons who convert to Islam) and the born Moslems. The Mualaf would most probably become a better Moslem than the born Moslems, because they know what things are like on the other side of the road. (and this is from a Moslem perspective, which I only know. So if you're not a Moslem, just turn the whole thing around). Just like broken home victims, you know. As long as they are stubborn enough to learn from the mistakes around them, as long as they are hardworking enough to go out of the pain, then they'll be just more than fine.

Lee Kuan Yew once said that the smallest entity of a nation is family, not an individual person. I tend to agree with his view. A person is made by their family. And their decision, as hateful for adults to hear, is always in one way of another influenced by their family. One can't go out of that circle. The things is, family is like the angel of death. However fast you run, however certain you hide, they always find you in the end. The 'normal' kids are always surrounded by their parents silent expectations or disappointments. The broken home victims would always be haunted by their parents in their decision, either for good or bad. Family haunts you, either as an angel or as a devil.

As per usual, I start stuttering again.
The point is, you can't really judge a person by his or her family, but you would understand more the person they are today by looking at their family.

I am far from my loving family right now, geographically. And I am proud to say that I've build my own family here, with good friends that always be here in good or bad.
The thing is, you won't know when things would take an ugly turn, and friendship becomes a yesterday topic. This happens all the time, and it hurts you the most. But family sticks, however badly they hurt in some cases.

Family is a privilege, any way you see it. It's a blood thing that no one really understand. Even if you don't have the good family in your past, let's swear to our hearts for, at the very least, having the good family in our future.

Cheers!

As time goes by...

2009-07-25T01:50:00.002+08:00

So I'm back in Malaysia now from the one month holiday back in Jakarta.

It feels shitty as it always does. The memories of being pampered, near families, and the endless happiness of knowing that this is a temporary beauty haunt me as I stepped back to the unlikely world that is Malaysia.

Anyways, it's just the usual homesick feeling. nothing much.

Although as I laid on my bed last night, thinking about home, I realized something. If all your life you grow up in a family-minded society (that is also your comfort zone), and then you go away from home for a certain period of time, it will be easier to look at the things you thought you knew inside out more objectively. and maybe realized that you can't really know anything entirely.

I got the feeling after extended analyzation. I realized that my family - which means mom, dad, and my brother - that i've known all my life, has never been the same. The first time I went back from Malaysia after only 4 months studying here, I realized that my brother is becoming more critical. We've known hands down that Mom is the kind of person who likes to romanticize something, and be emotionally involved while me, dad, and brother look at things more logically. That's why I grew up eharing debates about everything. And usually, Mom won. Because it would never end if we keep on arguing. Emotion and Logic have never found a middle ground, just like water and oil. But, back then, I went home discovering that my Brother had had the guts to criticize Mom on her way of working (which was usually a sensitive object). And I gotta say, my brother's argument is pretty damn good. And Mom just accepted his argument. I thought there would be a long debate over this, especially considering my brother's hard words, but it ended just like that. At that time, I thought: "Whoa. What happen to the careless Brother I used to know?"

And then I went back to Malaysia again. The second time I went back, my brother is sort of lost in his own new working world. My parents looks like a teenager dating again. They went to movies together on Saturday nights, or went karaoke near our house. It was very cute to see that. Here, the arguments have became harder. But I got used to it. it's not something to be surprised of anymore. Although I also started to realize that me, the girls who has been the most voiced out on family debates over the years, had gone dramatically soundless. I guessed that I just feel like listening, to know the arguments and just observe it. Or maybe I just felt that I'm not compatible enough to go on this hard debates about things.. I lost my confidence seeing how opinionated everybody was.

The last month was my fourth time going home to my family on a semester break. and changes, again, slapped me hard on the face.

My brother is working on a family landscaping business now. He's taking over my Mom's business. What used to be a family-oriented company now became a professional one. Brother fired a lot of people and ruled with a gentle iron fist around the landscaping areas. Turns out, the company has bigger prospects now. the projects are expanding, and it actually is competing on the market right now.
The thing is, with my mother, father and brother handling the same company, the argument got hold of everything. It seems like, if there is a pause in a conversation, then they'd start talking about work, about trees, and pools, and projects and employees. It was endless, let me tell you. Even though the past arguments was very hard too, but this one is on another level. I've always told my family anecdotes about my strange-behaving friends. But now, I can only talk about half of it because the other half is used for arguments about work. It is okay, actually, because I've seen how hard my brother works, and every time it breaks my heart to see that lazy-bum works his bum off. But I was on a holiday, so I was selfish, i think. Because it feels like, the last time I was back in Jakarta, that every place is an office! either family dinners, on the road in the car, in restaurants, cafes, in refreshing weekends, and just basically everywhere, it doesn't matter.
I get it that I'm being stupid and selfish and childish, maybe, but I just honestly can't keep up with the changes!

Where the hell does the easy times when we can just laugh off of people's stupidity goes? Where the hell does the times when we can gossip around the world goes? Where does family talk fly by?

One way you can see it is this: as time goes by, simple things would alter its meaning.

When we were a child, we might feel happy just because of a cone of Ice Cream. When we were a teenager, a prospect of monkey-love would make us feel like flying is possible. When we get into the university world, making friends and taking our own chances would make us feel anything is possible. So maybe it gets narrower in the end. Maybe, as we grow even more older, simplicity would reveal itself in the most complicated way possible. Simplicity might just be hiding behind responsibilities. As we grow older, we'd want to prove our ability to the world, so we work hard, and harder, and even harder, and we might just forget that simplicity exists until we held our own child, or maybe until we've seen the first grandchildren.

Life is simple, but it's just our own choice to make it complicated. Because it's just believed that the way of the world is if you get through complicated times, then you grow up.
And maybe that's the only way to learn how to do things.

Don't get me wrong, this is not a complain about my last holiday, no. I understood the hardness of the arguments, and the frustrations. Building a company is not easy. It's just... please remember.
When simplicity ever knocks on your door, when you ever get a chance to reminisce with the good old days, accept it with a warm, open hands. Even though everything is just heavily frustrating, no worries. just try your best to hug simplicity, even just for one good moment, and then try your very best again to show the world what you're capable of.

You will never, ever know something entirely, even those that you've been getting to know every each second of your life.
But it's simple. Remember the goods, forgive the bads, and do something for someone. And love your family.
As time goes by... maybe simplicity will alter to be something much, much more simply beautiful in the end.

Love is ....

2009-07-23T00:29:00.002+08:00

Just thought I'd post one of the posts from my long-forgotten Friendster blog.

Read up, people. :)

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AT LAST, THE SUBJECT OF LOVE.
August 20th, 2006

heyyah. i almost forgot that i hv a blog. heehee
anyway. yep, love it is. the thing that makes everybody feels upside down and just turn around. the thing that creates hate and insanity, but still be the only thing that keeps this world sane. yah, i’m pretty sure no one here knows what love really is anyway so i wont talk rubbish abt it. ayt.
lets say i have a very little experience in relationships between men and women. or boys and girls. whatevs. you (older people) may think that it’s too early for us (younger people. i’m 16 anyway) to talk about love. but lets just say this is our point of view. and teenagers like me (the ones who overthink everything) likes to find a strange thing to think about and for me love is one of them. and i’m pretty sure i hear abt it everyday from my best friends. so let me tell you what i’ve heard about this thing.

first, i have this friend called Sasha who has been dating his current boyfriend for 2 and half year. it’s kinda amazing to see how can they cope out in this early age. Sasha depends on her bf so much. they always go out together. yea, they have their hard times of feeling bored but they get through it. for the sake of love.
second, my brother was in a long-distance realtionship with his former gf. my brother was in KL and his former gf was in Australia. they met, like, once a year. or twice maybe. it’s been hard for them to cope with for a year plus plus. but earlier this year they broke up. i dont know why. the word love maybe had hurted them.
third, i have a 17-year-old friend called keshia. she’s doing a long distance relationship too. her bf is currently in bandung, and she’s in Jakarta. their age difference is abt.. uh, i’m not sure. maybe 9 years different. and next month her bf’s going to china for 5 months. but they’re still standing. for their love to work out.
fourth, my bestfriend, Pyu, were dating this classmate of hers (and mine too) that liked to hurt her. he used to pinch, slap or well, just hurt her all the time. sometimes pyu got a cut from him or her skin got dumb. her ex bf thought he was the king of the world to have a gf that like him for what he is. they broke up, thank goodness. but Pyu stood hurted still for a year and 3 months because of what she thought at the time, was love.
last but not least, the happy ending story. my grandparents were married for more than 50 years (my grandpa had died). but when grandpa was still alive, both of them always slept with their hands holding each other’s. it has been very hard for my grandma without a hand to hold at night anymore.

If you want me to describe another stories, i’m sure it’ll be hundreds or thousands pages long. but i think those were enough.
what i’m trying to tell you is that that’s what love can make. sometimes you think you’ve experienced it, but you’ll never know. love is not a wonderful thing like everybody used to say. it hurts you. it makes you cry. it makes you blind. it steps thousands of foot so your heart can’t go anywhere else. love really always smirks at you.
but that’s the wonderful thing. that in the very worst possible situation, love makes you feel happy. if you’re hurt, you’ll be happy to be hurted. if you cried, you’ll love every tears that has fallen. short is, love makes you feel alive.
Me?? oh, i haven’t felt like that in a pretty long time. my life’s just empty. i’m not even writing one story about any relationship. my life’s flat. that’s why i’m writing this blog. to tell people out there that even love makes you feel like you’re better dead because it hurts so much, but it’s better than have to live your life without any drama that love can bring. i have no drama, everybody knows that. that makes me think i’m useless. thank God for the talk i had with my brother last night, or nobody knows what i’ll end up today.
so all people out there that’s hurted, had hurted, have been hurted or maybe hurting for love, you gotta really thank God for the experience. You must be feeling alive right now.
and if you finish thanking God for everything, can you give me a favor and ask God to give me a decent relationship. haha.

post a comment!
until the next.. MUACH

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The current state of my beautiful Indonesia

2009-07-05T00:37:00.002+08:00

Hey!

So I was hanging out in Pondok Indah Mall today with my high school best friends. It was just the usual: dinner, gossips, and stupid jokes.

Anyhoo, as we were talking, I started this conversation with Krisgatha, who is this guy my friend Keshia is seeing. At first, he was telling me about his experience in India. And then the conversation went elsewhere as he talked about China too. Because China and India are mainly the countries I talked about in almost all my classes in Monash University, so we talked about current matters (how China and India are threatening US; how the Western media picture Indonesia as a pathetic country; how when people abroad saw what really is happening in Indonesia, they're actually quite pleasantly surprised). And... it just got me thinking.

The current state of Indonesia economically is shitty. I mean, just look at all the corruption. A lot of people want to help the poor, but somehow the money just got to the pockets of the medium. They took just a tenth, or half, or even more than half of it for themselves while the poor lay there on the streets, slowly going crazy. Corruption is everywhere in this country. And, yet, the people of Indonesia still walk with their chin high in the air.

You know what the cliches of judging an Indonesian is?
They're poor, arrogant with high self-esteem. They don't safe-keep what they got, but got angry when it's taken by anyone else. and they always feel like the grass on the other side is way greener, so why bother living in here? why not just move to the neighbor's house?

It's just a stereotyping thing. Not all Indonesians are like that. Just like not all Japanese are that diligent, and not all Chinese are good at business. And not all Arabs are religious.

This got me thinking. What is wrong with the current state of my beautiful country? A while ago, I saw this ad of 'Visit Malaysia'. In there, they put the picture of Raffles flower (which is the signature flower of Indonesia) and Cendrawasih bird (which is teh signature bird from Irian Jaya). One can say that you can't really put a line of difference between Malaysia and Indonesia culturally, because we are so close geographically and the people comes from the same ancestor. But come on! The gigantic flower is very Indonesian!! So is that colorful bird!
However, even as I'm writing this, I'm not that mad. Should we really get mad over something like this? Do you call it stealing when you put your signature object without any significant guarding on your behalf?
No. You can only blame yourself for that. The Malaysian might steal it from us, but we don't really put our culture for our own benefit either!

And don't let me start on democracy. BAH! democracy is the key for why we are falling so deep into the hole now. How can democracy work when capitalism is solely in place, and the rich getting richer while the poor getting poorer? And how can democracy really work when corruption is at the heart of the government?
So all talks about democracy is bull shit. It's not even a false hope. Rather an instrument the government use to deceive our eyes of what's really happening.
It got me really thinking that maybe... just maybe... if Indonesia really wants to go up on the 'developing' countries ladder, one government that is more like authoritarian-on-act might be needed. Just look at how we're counted on world matters in the era of Soeharto, even though corruption at that time is worst. Just look at Malaysia's development, even though their government is taking full control of the media and any ethnicity that is not Malays is considered as second-class, as an alien. Just look at China, the incredible economy that is high on its own authoritative leader.

Although, when you look at it on the other side, if that really happened, lives would not be as good as it is now. Because the Soeharto regime was frightening.

So the rich will have the formula:
Country's economic soar up, the rich would not have the same good life.
Country's economic stays pathetic, the rich can still go glamourous like those in Hollywood.

Indonesia is fucked up.

And it is very sad when you have the opportunity to see it closer, and see how beautiful it is.
How beautiful Bali is, and Lombok is, and our many beaches around the islands that can wave goodbye to the beaches in Maldives.
How beautiful the culture is, with the dances, the songs and the Orang Asli that can blow your mind because we just have so many!
And how actually cool the country is if you see the art scenes: If you see how the fashion can mix traditional dress to be couture ones; if you see the indie music scenes that can accomplish and create music that can compete with the skills of Coldplay and the others; if you see the qualified Indonesian-made movie that can picture the beautiful life of the poors; and, when I hear my friend Krisgatha's experience in India.

Krisgatha's experience: he was invited to play as a DJ in India, and over there, he was made to play an encore (while the Australian DJ gave him the stage), and he was filmed in 7 interviews and the crowd was packed to see a DJ from Indonesia. And the people in India asked him about Indonesia, and when they see the art scene, they even felt like their country hasn't accomplished what we Indonesian has, and they were mesmerized with the real picture of Indonesia.

You might feel proud, and everything. But get this one fact:
The one who sponsored Krisgatha to play in India is a Singaporean foundation, and not an Indonesian owned.

Fucked up.

The irony of too big a group.

2009-06-29T22:46:00.004+08:00

This really is an interesting time to be back home to Indonesia. It really is.

People, election is coming in about a week.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

I know, i know. There were a time when one talks about election with a frightened tone. Election used to be an opportunity for a lot of people to demonstrate, fight, and verbally, politically or even literally kill other people. But I don't think it is as frightening now as it was then. I personally don't see some terrifying demonstration happening on the streets. What I see is something else. I kind of see (or feel, in this case) that Indonesian has slowly realized that violence for the "public" sake just takes a high level of your energy and opportunity, and there's nothing in it you can actually gain for future benefit.

So, the election this year is interesting. Because the play of politics is more obvious, more 'flirty', if you like.
(Or maybe I just have enough knowledge to appreciate this, whereas in the past elections I was still too dumb.)

Any other ways, there are three pairs of President-Vice President competing. The current President, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, best known as SBY, is running again. He substituted his current vice president with this economic-oriented guy, former Top Guy of Bank of Indonesia, Boediono. The second pair is the current Vice President, Jusuf Kalla, known as JK, who runs with this former General named Wiranto. The last pair is a former and only female President of Indonesia, Megawati Soekarno Putri, running with the former General with huge pocket, Prabowo.

It's an interesting combination, all three of them. And you should see them debating. It's both smart and funny.

Anyways, that's not the point of me writing today. No. The thing is, there's this rumor going on around the media in the country. A lot of people initially has desired SBY to rule again, preferably back with JK, but since they broke up and SBY chose someone who is not that obvious in the political world, it raises question marks around the islands.
(Personal anecdote: first time I heard of the name Boediono, my reaction was "Who the hell is Budiatno?" lol)
Probably because of this guy's sudden emergence as a candidate for VP, then, as media is the key for all these campaigning, a rumor about Boediono was started a while back. It is believed that his wife, Herawati, is a Catholic.

Another personal anecdote: when I heard this rumor was hotly talked about, there's only one thing on my mind.
"So what if she's a Catholic?"

Okay. let me get this straight. I might not understand the problem thoroughly, or I might just see it on the surface, but I have been studying about International matters for the past two years and the first thing that I got from this rumor was is the cultural point of view behind it.

People are frightened and uncomfortable with the rumor surrounding them about Herawati. But I don't understand why! Why don't they see Boediono with what he can do. If in his past he has a good scroll of proofs that he saves the economy of Indonesia (which I honestly don't have any idea), then he is a good candidate, someone to consider.
However, as election is coming closer, this is what people are talking about. Some even contemplate on not re-electing SBY because of Herawati's indefinite status.

And all I got on my mind was: what the heck?
Indonesia is not an Islamic country. It's a Democratic Republic which acknowledges 5 religions. But the majority is definitely Moslems.

So this might be what it's all about. It's about the paranoia of the majority group in a country. And I'm one of them. I'm a Moslem, born and raised in Indonesia. I understand why it's scary. It's scary because the thought that when someone who does not know the belief of Islam is trusted to rule Indonesia, there might not be a good deal of benefit for the Pribumi. We, in all our arrogance and hardheadedness, does not believe solely in ourselves to raise this country. There is a tradition to believe that we're always right, and it's hard to change that for most of the pure Indonesians. So it's scary to know that someone from a minority group might be up there on the high chairs of the country..
...as well as that's why it's a really good political strategy for this election!

I just like to point out what we've done to the minorities. The obvious one must be the pornographic constituency. On paper, it's stated that people who dresses too revealing, or do a Publich Display of Attention, or assumed prostitutes, have the chance to be held for questions.
In an Islamic country, this is tolerable. But in a democratic republic? this simply doesn't make sense.

I don't have anything to take out from this case, to conclude, to make this as a life-lesson, etc.

But you must know why I publish this post. It's obvious, isn't it?

It's for the early-morning imagination of a just and democratic Indonesia.
But imagination is imagination, right?

Whichever pair is chosen, just let it be.
and let's see.

Run, Generations, Run!

2009-06-15T02:01:00.003+08:00

First of all...

I gotta say that I feel stupid publishing my last entry. The fucking self-worth thing. Ehh.. I guess its the exam-period toxin.

But anywaysssss... back to the thing I just thought of today. About generations.

So I'm currently reading a memoir by Haruki Murakami called "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running".
It's a damn great book. It's surprising enough to know this genius actually runs constantly, even takes part in long-distance run competition now and then. But he also connects running to his everyday life, and it's more surprising to know how many things you can get from running.

NOT saying that I'll be running constantly from now on. Nope. I'm too lazy for that routine.

So, Mr. Murakami was telling this story about him running in a park one morning, and he realized that he has been seeing the same girls running with him for the past four months. And then, he started to guess in his mind. The girls were young, with blonde hair, fastened in a tight ponytail. They bring new iPods, and run like the wind. They use shorts and different kinds of shirts, but mostly it's a Harvard jumper. So, he guessed that these girls were actually Harvard freshmen.
What makes him notice them is how healthy they look. They run a lot faster than him: the kinds that are used to pass people on the street but not used to be passed. Murakami started to imagine how good would life be for those girls: Beautiful shape, healthy body, probably can float through life easily. And then he looked at himself, and felt how different he is.
After a moment of thinking, he got it. The answer is simply: "One generation takes over from the next."

And I found me smiling to myself.
It's true what he said, you know. We speak of it, we laugh about it, we even make jokes about it. But generation is something significant, something that actually makes a difference to your life. Have you ever considered why you argue with your parents a lot? Or why you can't understand the way your children thinks? Or why it feels better to talk about things to your siblings, or your friends than your parents, or uncle and aunts?

For most cases, yes. the new generation is taking shape, taking control. I would say, as I am only 19 right now, that my generation is taking over. What kinds of generation are we?
Well, I will only be guessing from the way I see around me.
Let's give a context. The context is an Asian context, where our lives has its own culture, rules. a.k.a not as liberal as those int he West.
But, due to the fact that most of us grow up with the era of globalization, we are highly different from our parents. We can see the same thing together, and have a completely different opinion.
So, with this context, I could really guess the difference. What my generation is like...... (drumroll, please)
1.) We are highly Westernized. Our lives are almost being dictated by the West, from the media culture to the way we dress to the brand-mindedness. And, however much we hate it, we just can't get away with it. Proofs: An Indonesian socialite blog which consists of these so-called socialites partying and having fun, drinking, wearing Hollywood-inspired dresses, with neat guys.. toasting "CHEERS!".
2.) I'm sorry. But all the taboos that our parents really familiar with? Huh. We just don't recognize them anymore. Sometimes this might lead to the parents feeling old-school, and they might start do what we children do. Maybe you won't recognize this, but I guess there were times in our culture, when girls who smoke in public is a rare view. There were times when premarital slash free sex is considered as taboo, but now it's all out in the open. There were times when divorce is a taboo, you know! (to think about divorce now is like thinking about getting a nail polish for girls). Oh, and there were those beautiful times when guys don't wear makeups. Aahhhhhh....
3.) We can't live without the help of technology. This is just out of the question. We can't even imagine it!! Living without Twitter, Facebook, Online downloads, iTunes... living without our mobile phones and laptops?? Geez. It's really, really impossible. Our lives are surrounded by all this. This is how we communicate, how we make friends. Sending letters sounds really funny when you got email. In fact, I think the post office will be broke in 5 years time. Or 10, maybe. We even bring our Balckberry to the dinner table, and PING our friends while our parents are talking about their days.

Okay. I might as well just stop there. It will be too ironic to continue, and even really funny.

However, I need to make this straight. My description might sound sarcastic. My generation might sound really arrogant, conceited, narrow. But that's not the matter.
Our parents might feel alienated to how we live nowadays. They might even think that our generation is shallow. But I don;t think so.
Because... this is how it is with the changeover of generations. Our parents have their own pace, and we have our own. They have their own opinions with the hard experiences the got installed, and we have our own opinions with the easiness we have with technology. We have our own sense of time, and they have theirs.
So it's not our fault when our parents got mad because we just can't stop Twittering or updating status on Facebook or MySpace. It's not our fault when our parents got mad because we stayed out too late, and girls aren't supposed to be out that late. And, it's the same with it's not our parents' fault to not let us marry very young, to not let us go clubbing, to not let girls go home pass 11, or 10, or even 9 p.m.

As Mr. Murakami said it: "The two are completely different, but that's the way it should be." We are not shallow, nor our parents are outdated.

What I can think of to how we progress from now is to try to understand. Go back to our Eastern culture a little bit. You know, be a little bit family-oriented. It's the children's duty to listen to the elders. Thus, try to understand their prohibitions. Even though you have a whole other different point of view, just say yes. Respect them, and just look back to how the context of our lives used to be. Take what's good from the previous generation, and try to be as good as you can in the present.

With all those be said, I need to say one other thing. There's one thing that never change however much generations take over. and that is obstacles, challenges. Our parents might have to struggle with their lives with limited technology and even World Wars, but we have our own struggle. We have to take control of our lives much more carefully, because this new world might just make or break us. It's hard to keep a sense of ourselves when the world is moving so rapidly.
It might not seem as difficult as World Wars, or Cold Wars. But, the thing is... you can't really measure struggle. Being in a war might not appear to be as hard as keeping your own culture, but you can also say that by being in a war, you know where you are, you know what you want to do. But to find yourself in today's world.. you might just be moving around in circles, not having any idea on what you want to do.

Therefore, don't measure the struggles. Don't compare generations, but try to understand. And don't blame past generations, or even your own generation. In fact, don't blame anything at all.

In that chapter, the last words of Mr. Murakami got shivers all over my spine:
"At this point, I don't have the leisure to be burned out. Which is exactly why even though people say, 'He's no artist,' I keep on running."

Let's give a standing ovation for the previous generation.
And then...
Let's prove what WE can do, fellow Generation!

Unreasonable rant #1

2009-06-11T03:24:00.003+08:00

Effing memories that time erases.
Effing present that turns to past.
Effing desire that turns to dust.
Effing stupid self-worth.

Effing rules and its restrictions.
Effing politeness and respect.
Eff words, and words alone.
And nothing else, but words alone.

Effing stupid, stupid self-worth.

Better have no glory than lose much more than sorry.

Effing early morning and its effing thoughts.
Effing stupid, stupid self-worth.

Effing screwed.

When Hen meets Hen

2009-06-07T03:11:00.004+08:00

This is about a guy named Henhen.

If you don't know him, and feel like you don't want to, then skip this post.
But if I were you, I wouldn't.

Because this guy is something else.

You might ask why.

Okay, so. Here goes.

One. He's something else because he is a really, really clumsy guy.
You might notice him if one day, let's say, you're walking in a train station, and you just got out of a KTM (the MRT of Malaysia). And then you see this guy. (He's tall. You can see that he cares about how he looks. He's Chinese. The hair style slash hair color changes every now and then. today it can be normal. tomorrow it can be pink or maybe red but fading.) And then, without any disruptions and interference, which means that the ground is flat and there's no strong wind whatsoever, this guy suddenly trip over his steps. He rarely fell down, though. But it must be Henhen if, after this tragedy, this guy act like nothing had just happened. He would suddenly be the coolest man on earth with a very, very innocent face.

Two. He's something else because he's full of cheap tricks.
So if one day you were just passing by, and you see this guy with his friends. Suddenly, one of the friends told the guy: "You look handsome today!" or "Man! you're looking good!" And then the guy would just smile shyly as he said: "Oh, really. Nooo I look just normal." And then, suddenly this one girl comes out of nowhere and said (with an exaggerating tone): "No, man! You're very handsome today! Really, really handsome!!" Then the guy must be Henhen.

Three. He's something else because sometimes his stupidity makes your day.
What kind of stupidity, you might ask. No, not the kind of 1+1=4. I'm pretty sure he's good in math. But the kind like sometimes he wants to call one name, and ends up mentioning another that makes him the target for the day. Sometimes he calls his best guy friend "Say" or calls him with the pronoun "Kamu" and makes him the target for gay jokes for the whole year. He is the kind of person that makes jokes unconsciously.

Four. He's something else because he's very, very lazy.
There's this one time when him and his friends were cleaning up his messy house. Even those who doesn't live there were actually sweeping the floor or washing dishes for two hours, and you can see him only cleaning his beloved sneakers or just rearranging their places for the whole two hours. He's crowned the boss of the Lazy gank since then (with one follower. And, funny thing is, both of them have best friends who will diligently give them a bottle of water when they're too lazy to move).

Five. He's something else because his level of curiosity a.k.a kepo, is on the highest level. And the downside is, most times he is too busy in his own world that he doesn't listen to all the gossips that his friends are talking about, which means that this level of curiosity occurs very often.
One more downside. when he's curious, he'll disturb the persons who know by asking them over and over again while he either shovel their hands or knocks his knees to the persons' knees in an over-dramatized way.

Six. He's something else because he always says one thing when he obviously practices another.
Like he says that he wants a lot of girls, that he is a playboy, when actually all he wants and all he needs is only one.

Seven. He's something else because he is very friendly and fun when on pot, and very bad-tempered when not.
And you won't like him when he's angry.

Eight. He's something else because he makes useless changes every now and then.
Today, he might be Michael Corleone from The Godfather. Tomorrow, he's Jason Mraz. The day after, he can be Edison Chen (or Edison Hen, as he called it). The next, he can be a surfer, or a rapper, or a teenager, or... well, who knows, an emo-kid with yellow hair?

Nine. He's something else because when he's only 23, and hasn't even finished his bachelor degree, he is already an entrepreneur, with a line of Jeans that is slowly but surely climbing up the popularity stairs.

Ten. He's something else because he's a really, really good friend.
He might be the one who guided and accompanied you through your first year away from home. He might be the one who shares with you controversial gossips. He might be the one who is there to go with you to a car service when you don't have anyone else. He might be the one who takes you around Bandung and introduce you to a really good place to eat. He might be the one to make your day. He might be the one who tells you who you would be really good for a relationship (and although you say you're not interested, he will definitely stick to his opinion). He might be the one who drags you to ride on KTM. He might be the one who will listen to you in times of need. Or, maybe, he just might be the one who will simply always, always be there.

The ten reasons I gave above is what I know of him for the past couple of years. However, if you still don't understand why, then I'll add another reason.

Eleven. He's something else because when he's gone, when the possibility for you to call him as often as you like, when the possibility for you to have lunch with him instantly, and when the possibility of you just laugh at others with him constantly, is gone... then you would really, really understand why he is, definitely, inescapably, something else.
Although, the downside is, when that happens, you might shed a tear or two.

So. For the good-looking guy (in case you say that no you're not, then yes, hen. yes, you are!) who is somewhere out there, probably sleeping, or working hard, or just daydreaming... if you read this, then please be good back there. Please don't change much and live as you always do, as a youngster however old you are. Please make the best decisions. Please don't trip over nothing (and if you still do, wait for me to actually fall down!!). Please don't mention the wrong names. Please be in control of your pot.

And please, pretty please, don't wriggle out of our lives.

Because you will certainly be missed.

As you are one of my best best friends, I will keep you close to my heart. Jauh di mata, dekat di hati, heng! haha.

So. to close this. Let's just bring out the best phrase you invented in a flat tone and no punctuation whatsoever.

YOU'RE THE BEST MY FRIEND

We love you, Henggri! :'D

p.s. Because long-distance calls are expensive, then let me just answer here:
I'M NOT UNCONSCIOUSLY IN LOVE WITH YOU! :s

Regretfully Leaving = Living in regret

2009-06-04T03:29:00.005+08:00

I just found that picture above when randomly searching about the One Tree Hill pages.

Sp. Do people always leave?

Before that, for your information, I am not ordinarily a pessimistic person. Sometimes I'm even overbearingly optimistic. But, as this early morning, I felt stuck and that I can't really write to save my own Uni life, I just thought I'd try to write here before i go to sleep.

The questions of leaving is inevitable. Really. How can you expect to be with someone forever. The best you can say is for the rest of their life. Because, at one point, they will leave. Or you will leave. And separation becomes inescapable.

The most basic reason would be death. Death always interferes. It's predestined. It's a fate thing you don't really understand. It's something that you can't control. Most people would experience the feeling of being left by someone they love because of this. I felt it really hard when my Grandfather died. And it was so hard. I didn't even realize he had that big impact in my life until he was gone.

The thing about that part of experience for me is that, when he was still lying on a hospital bed, on the verge of life and death, I came to the hospital every day. And every each day, there's this thing that stuck in my throat. I feel like wanting to tell him that I love him, so dearly, so much. But then I just can't get it out. It's just... you know, there, stuck in my throat. It was frustrating! And then, when the last time I saw him, he was lying in the middle of his house, close-eyed, no life again left in him, and with all these people surrounding him, reading Yasin and giving prayers and crying, All i did was I kissed him on his forehead, tears ran down unconsciously from my own eyes, and the words never come out. It's not stuck anymore, no. It's open, it's free. But it just felt useless.

It was one of the biggest regret in my life.

Anyways, I dont want to keep on rambling about my past regrets. That's not the point here. The point is that people really always leave, literally.

But metaphorically, do they?

You can say that it's true. But I personally don't believe that this argument is the same for families. No. Family bonds are in a way different stage than this one. But how about friends? How about boyfriends, girlfriends? Teacher? Close friends?
Sometimes people just stroll away for a lot of different reasons. Maybe they feel like you're changing, so they pull away. Maybe they feel like the grass on the other side is way greener, so they pull away. Maybe they feel like both of you just not meant to be together, so they pull away. Maybe their new life is too much pleasurable to remember the past ones, so they forget away. Or maybe they just feel like it.
It doesn't really matter what the reason is. Because reasons can be an actual reason, but most of the times, these reasons are only justifications to your mind, so that you won't feel as guilty of leaving, so that you can pretend that you're doing the right thing.
What matter more is the impact. If someone's leaving, no matter how distant your relationship is, there still will be an impact. You might feel relieved at some point, but there will still be longing. There will still be questions: Will the memories stay? Will I be able to remember her/his face afterwards? Will we still be in touch? Will the love remains? Will it be the same when we meet again?

Consciously or unconsciously, people leaving-or just the implication that one will do-is inevitable, and it will bring impact in you. You might have a better life. You might build a new life. Or you might cry your eyes out and live in the past, or what figments left of it.

But the thing is, I don't believe they always do leave, metaphorically speaking. However bad the separation may be, they will still be a part of you. Because life's not "Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind". You can't really erase memories. You can only either cherish them, or deny them there.

So have compassion. Do things for whoever you have today, because they will leave eventually. And you might not want to regret what you've never done to them.

And, believe me, you don't want to blurt out flat 'I Love You' just every time you come to their grave. Because there's still the possibility that they might not hear it, however much you believe that they will.

Don't regret, friends. Don't let time race you there.

23 for the Smelly Bee!

2009-05-31T05:45:00.002+08:00

Today, a guy named Keisar Rachmat Magfirat is celebrating his birth day.

Who he is does not matter. What matter most is that he is a wonderful guy, one that you can always, always depend on.

Like most guys, Echal (yes, that's what everybody call him) has an ego as high as the peek of Mt. Everest. He rarely want to lose on arguments, and his sensibility is always far off. If you're a girl, you can be soooo mad at him, or soooo irated by him that you really want to cry, and he won't even notice. And even if you finally told him that you were mad at him (which I so constantly do), he would just laugh it off as he said sorry.

But, unlike most guys, he's really, really sensitive. He feels sensitive about home. That's why it's hard for him to adapt to a new surroundings away from home. He's sensitive about his family. That's why he's always there, and always care for them. He's sensitive about his friends. That's why he would stand between a fight in defend of a friend. And... he's particularly sensitive about his one little sister. That's why he is the one that his sister can feel at ease talking about everything that comes to her mind.

And, unlike most guys, this one guy loves to actually shower three times a day.

Anyways, Echal has had his own rise and fall. I remember the High School tragedy, at a time when he was searching or his own lost identity. I remember the Malaysian tragedy, when he just moved abroad and it was so hard for him to settle in. And also the UK tragedy, when it was so hard for him to adapt to that cold country. I remember the first job tragedy, when he let it go to follow his own felling on it. I even remember his sofa tragedy early in his life, when he smartly decided to jump up and down on a sofa and resulted on his upper lip gotten 12 stitches. And... OH! I remember the car door tragedy, when he ingeniously decided t do a good thing for his sister and opened a car door for her, resulting in his sister falling down the Jeep car and smashed her head on a concrete.

I remember the olympic tragedy, when he decided that, in spirit of the olympics, he should try to be a hammer thrower. And, he decided that his sister should be the ball. Well... you can guess what happened. His sister got a big bump on her head for hitting the bed frame.

But, if you look closely, you can also see how he has grown up. He's the kind of person who would learn from his mistakes. And he certainly knows, right now, as he's a 23 year old, that he is officially a man. That he has to take care of his family. That he is turning more and more like his dad. That he has to protect his mother and sister.
That he has a life of his own.

And, from what I know, he has been an inspiration for all.

Well, as this is past 6 a.m. already and I need to get to sleep, I just have to say what Echal is for me. For me, he is a rolemodel. I really can't do anything much without him. I learn from his mistakes, and I listen to what he got to say. He guided me through this life, and, sometimes, he makes myself seems worthwhile again.

So... Wawawiwa. If you read this, just know that I'm so proud of you. I wish you the best year, the best decision, and may Allah's ridho guided your way all through the seconds.

Congratulation for turning 23.
You really are an incredible guy. Can't say fairer than that.

I'm not literally near you right ow, so this is all I can give.

Happy Birthday, brother. I miss you, and I love you more than you can ever imagine.
Please feel special and have a wonderful one!

Sweet Silver Lining

2009-05-18T23:43:00.002+08:00

So here goes.

These past three weeks, I was busy entertaining the visitors that came here to KL from Jakarta. All of them are my family. At first, my parents came. and then my dad went back on the day that my aunt and cousin came. a week later, my mom and my aunt went back. a week after that, my cousin went back. the Friday after that, my brother came here. he went back on Tuesday, the day that my good friend, Arthur, came to visit for a couple of days.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. You see, I always have this bad habit. Whenever someone I love dearly comes to visit me in KL, I always take the feeling for granted. However hard I tried, I never succeeded in distancing my feelings with them. It suddenly feels like home again-- that is, a home with less pollution, better infrastructure, but much, much less comfortable.
That feeling I have whenever someone visit me. And what happened these past weeks was a group of someones visiting me. so you get what I mean, right? the feeling when they left me - the feeling of emptiness that hurts your heart like someone rips it apart without any prior warning, that it gets hard to breathe and it gets hard to think straight - doubles, triples, even quadruples.

One thing that surprised me happened when I was waiting for my brother finished clubbing in Pavillion, this mall in central KL. I was there, in this shisha place, with Ayu, Sara and Silvi. We were just hanging out, having late snacks, and laughing and gossiping people off. It was a normal night, felt like a girl's night out.

One thing they didn't know is that, at that exact minute, I was missing my brother so bad. I know that he was just in another corner of KL, probably having the time of his life, but i just couldn't help it. My brother was the one that almost never visit me in KL, and that's why it was really, really special when he was there, beside me all the time. It was like a sweet smell of fresh air in a polluted world. And all the time that he stayed in my apartment, sometimes I excused myself to go to my friends' apartments. Unconsciously, actually I was trying to distance myself away from my brother so that it wouldn't feel so hard when he actually went back. But ever minute that I spent at my friends' apartments-even just a simple 10 minutes-makes me miss him even more. I did not distance myself, I actually made it worse.

So there I was, in KL, waiting for my tacos, with my three close friends still laughing things off. And suddenly i just couldn't take it anymore. Suddenly a picture of a life here without my brother hurt me so bad. And, as hard as I tried to hold it, when I looked up and saw Silvi looked at me with her worried face, the tears started strolling down. And once it started, it just couldn't be stopped.

My three close friends stopped laughing, and asked what was wrong. I couldn't admit it directly, because that would make me howl even harder. So there I was sitting, crying my eyes off. Ayu almost cried too that she had to get away from me (because it would look really, really weird with the four of us crying), silvi came and tried to calm me down, and Sara looked like she was blind. She couldn't see someone crying, cos' that would make her instantaneously crying too.

To put a long story short(er), I calmed down eventually. I tried to close my mind and just enjoy the time I had left with my brother beside me. And a couple of days after that, he went home. And my mind went blank, it got really hard to breathe easily, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed and you just can't control it.

The point here is that sometimes, when you're really down, when things got so bad, out of hand, and you just have no family in sight to back you up, it really helps to have friends around. Because that afternoon Sara accompanied me sending my brother to the airport, Silvi helped me thinking about something else to distract my mind, and Ayu ended up spending the night with me so, at the very least, there will still be someone beside me when I slept that night. And that help means something more than you can ever imagine.

So embrace the friend that you have right now. Embrace those that respects you, that actually show that they care for you, those who understands you when PMS comes in, those that makes you laugh when tears were actually stuck in your throat. Embrace them and try hard not to let go. They might not be the one that save your life, but once, or twice, or umpteenth times, they definitely will hug you hard enough to stop you from breaking down in the first place.

Like what Mr. Mayer said once..

You know it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing
But then the circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining

So for those who are simply there (and this goes to more than those that I've mentioned here), thank you so very much. You don't know how may times I thank God for all of you :)

It's not just a bunch of classes, mate.

2009-04-25T01:40:00.003+08:00

I apologize for not writing in a pretty long time.

I've reached week 7 of my fourth semester. Obviously, the time has come for me to start drowning in all my assignments. 2 weeks ago, I had three assignments due in one week, and I had been working my ass off. I could not even think of going out of my comfortably messy room, let alone write a blog post.

But it's okay, you know. It's all good. Because at one point of everybody's lives, they need to dwell with an incredible workload that blow them out of their mind. Some would be a huge success, some would nearly pass, and even some are a waste of money, a.k.a a fail. But what difference would it make? That's what life is about, isn't it? It's an effing rollercoaster.

Well, as of myself, I am still a student (obviously). And I won't say that I'm that good. I'm just like any other students. I do my assignments on time, I work really hard, I read my readings faithfully in the first 3 weeks, and, as hard as I tried, I still get a Credit instead of a Distinction. But this doesn't mean that I'm complaining, or any of the sorts. No. I'm one of those who realized that this is what we're supposed to be doing.

Let me humbly share with you my university experience so far. On my first semester, away from home, I got a surprise freedom. I went to all my lectures only in the first three weeks. After that, I only attended class once or twice a week. I did my assignment the night before it was due. I slept after sunrise for most of the nights, and woke up late in the afternoon. It was a shitty life, meaningful nonetheless. I got a good circle of friends, most of whom still stand beside me for everything until now.
However, thank goodness I learned after that. my second semester, I worked way harder. Although I still stayed late most of the nights in my friends' house, but I always attend classes. I got more pride in my third semester. My grades are not that much improving, but I started to speak up in class. I started to have opinions on things. I was finally feeling like a university student. My mind's going wider than it had ever been, and I started to accept how intelligence differs for one individual to the next. I'm not ashamed of thinking aloud anymore.

The thing is, some people don't get it. One of my closest friends actually lost her best friend because the best friend can't even begin to understand what we are supposed to be doing here. I'm here talking about students that studied abroad. In this sense, our parents had worked their asses off to send us to have the best possible education. And, in my own experience, I've seen too many people realized that fact but actually doesn't believe it to save their lives. These students keep on playing, and playing HARD, until they neglect their real priority. Many of us actually got so easily distracted. Sometimes we found, away from home, a proof that a non-relative love actually do exist. In this case, these students got so distracted that love became their priority. More time passes, that great, great love destroys their education, their intelligence. And it won't be harmful to point out that most of this great, great love ends in bitterness and regrets.

I could go on and on about all the neglecting cases I've seen, but the point is this: WHAT THE FREAKING HELL?!!! Come on, youngsters! Think about your parents and how hard they work for you to have a better future. And, okay, maybe you shit money everyday, maybe you grew a tree with money as its leafs, but come fucking on. Do you think if you keep on neglecting what you're supposed to do, money can actually buy you a good future?? And I don't mean a good future in a way that you can have a penthouse in upper east side of Manhattan or five sport cars with five personal drivers for your own satisfaction. No. I'm talking about a good future where you can feel at ease with yourself, where you can actually feel satisfied with what you can generate with your own hard work. Because, believe me, if you live by your parents' money for all your life, that is not a good future. And, in my own opinion, I think you need education to get a good future. You need credible sources to base your opinions. You need intelligent argument to get respects. You need all this to be able to live in contentedness.

I'm not saying that education is everything or science is religion. No, of course not. Friends, connections, and even love sometimes become a more important subject to retrieve. But my point is you need to take education seriously to know that it is not only about you: it's about your parents, your family, your circle of friends, others' respect of you, and even your place in this life. If you do it seriously (and this does NOT mean to study so hard like a natural geek and have no visible social life), you'll move a step forward and you will actually grow.

Because, believe me, I've seen those who think that they're still young, and in a blink of an eye, they are at an age where everyone their age are a mile ahead of them and they're still... well... on the starting line.

So, please. If you're a student, study. If you're an employee, work. If you're a housewife, take good care of the house. Learn from your previous mistake. Learn from your parents' mistake. Learn from your enemy's mistake.
Just... you know. Learn.

they shine bright Y E L L O W

2009-03-25T22:10:00.004+08:00

One of the things I'd like to do before I die is to watch Coldplay live in concert. And I did, last Monday night.

I might like to exaggerate things, but believe me when I say that they were ENCHANTING. And it was worth skipping classes, missing assignments clues, and definitely worth the damn money.

They played in Singapore Indoor Stadium, and I was kind of lucky to get the ticket because the day after I bought it, it was sold out. The only down side was that I watched it alone, while my best friend Saprita sat on the other side of the stadium. But, as I said before, it was worth it.

They started off playing Life in Technicolor, as they did anywhere else on the Viva La Vida Tour. I was literally jumping off my seat and started singing my lungs out, screaming, dancing, everything! I forgot everything else, my eyes were glued to the stage. When they started playing Yellow, I screamed more. It was very beautiful. The words were much more beautiful listening directly from Chris Martin's mouth (or maybe I'm just being corny, but what the heck). They actually played kind of a lot of their old songs, most surprisingly Politik. And also In My Place, God Put A Smile ..., and Talk.

You know what? I am honestly lost for words right now. They were too good, and the concert was so beautiful, and the sound system was clear, and Guy Berryman looked really good, and everything was kind of perfect. Although I've been a big fan of theirs for too long now, they exceeded my expectation. They were really, really good.

Overall, the weekend I had can't be better. I was with my closest friend, and met new people that made me laugh until my lips hurt. It was fun. Of all the weekends so far, this one actually shines bright yellow.

I hope to see you again, Coldplay.

p.s. The photo above was the property of my friend Paolo Jacob who had the opportunity to jump seats and come close up to them. What a lucky, lucky guy.

We're all alright! We're all alright!

2009-03-14T01:43:00.007+08:00

In two days, it will be a complete second week since I got back to Malaysia.

I can't say that I'm easily sentimental about home. I rarely got homesickness, and my dad message me 12 times a day at the very least.
However, I also can't say that it's easy being away. Especially after 4 months being near my family, it feels like back to square one, and I have to adapt with my financial situation (read: near-bankruptcy) and health situation (read: near-starvation) all over again. And these past two weeks, it actually has been quite agonizing to read thick readings and articles about an author that you have no interest in whatsoever. It has been quite agonizing to have to eat an unhealthy amount of eggs and noodles and fast foods. It has been quite agonizing to live in an unbelievably messy room 'cause there's no time or energy left to clean it in a sweep. It has been quite agonizing without the comfort of a mother's hug.

So, yeah. I'm a spoiled little brat. And I miss home. I miss all the pollution and traffic jam and flooded street.

Well, however hard it has been, I am so thankful that I at the very least have formed a little group that could be a comfort in need. It's not always been easy for all of us, but it has never been a waste in having good friends. Especially those that reminds you to not skip classes (and seriously would burn down your room if you do). I thank God for this particular comfort. As U2 said it, sometimes we actually can't make it on our own. In out desperate times of need, even though we can't share, or can't find the words to begin with, it's still worth it to have someone or some people to make us chuckle a bit.

So, I think that makes me a lucky spoiled little brat.

Anyways, to close this, I just remembered one song by Cheap Trick that has been on my mind all day long.

Hanging out,
Down the street,
The same old thing,
We did last week.

Not a thing to do,
But talk to you.

we're all alright!
WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT!

Desperate times call for desperate measure.
Thank you for being pathetic together.
May nothing change. :)
We're all alright, aren't we?

I assure you this is completely harmless.

2009-03-11T01:20:00.012+08:00

Introducing...

One of the best new Jeans line originally from Bandung

PotMeetsPop

It's better than sex,

you won't have to fake how good it is.

It's better than cakes,

you won't have to worry looking obese.

It's not some effin' gags,

you gotta have these!

A long farewell to the Snake-hater Legend.

2009-03-08T00:07:00.005+08:00

I truly, truly hate farewells and goodbyes.

So, today is a big day. One of my closest friend is leaving Malaysia. And I am sad as hell.

His name is Naufal Alhabsyi. Best known as Boim. He is very well known. Mostly because his one-liners that are so fucking funny, his jokes that mostly makes you want to pee yourself because its actually not that funny, or his sudden unpredictable moves (like pretending to fall down on escalators, or pretending to wrongly use the straws in his nose). However, for me, Boim stays in a lot of hearts because he is very kind-hearted. You can always, always count on him. And he gives without thinking about what's in it for him.

I met Boim on my first year in Malaysia. He has aaaaalllways been there. His house is basically the basecamp of our group. Since the first time we met, we grew instantly close. His jokes sometimes never leave my mind (like one when he joked about going to Genting by bicycle and broke his knee by the sound of CEPETANG!). And I could never forget his alien-ish behavior. He is very unpredictable. Once, he went around KL on a Saturday night wearing his high school uniform. And once he came out of his room wearing a rapper-like clothes. And once, he hit me with a broom for prohibiting people to throw toy-snakes at him.

I can go on until tens of thousands of pages if I want to remember all the memories I had with him. But it would be too like a diary. So I'll tell you two of the memories that I'll always keep in my heart.

One, when I was by myself in Malaysia (all my other girlfriends had left me home), I stayed in Boim's house until way past midnight. It was normal for me to stay out that late, and definitely normal that I was in his house doing nothing for that long. So, at about 3.30 a.m., I excused myself home. I felt okay of going home, you know. Although no one was in my apartment that night, I felt safe because I've been coming home late alone almost everyday of the week. But Boim argued with me. He literally force me to stay the night in his house, because it's not safe for a girl alone being out there. I told him that it's going to be okay. But he looked kind of pisses, and after some argument, I slept in his room. And kind of kicked him to sleep outside hahaha. But the point was, he actually lent me the comfortable room although it's okay for me if he wanted to sleep in his room. I still remember when I was going to sleep, Boim was still watching a movie in his laptop with the earphone on, as to not disturb me sleeping. Eventually, he moved outside so that he can watch more peacefully.

Two. When we were attending a concert called Pesta Indonesia 2 in Malaysia, suddenly this group of preman-like men ran brutally from the front to the back. All 10 of us were standing at the back, and got panicked. It looked like there was a fight at the front and the security was trying to calm the situation down unsuccessfully. So we got separated. There was only me and Boim on one side, and the other on the other side. I was so freakin' scared. When I saw Boim with me, I spontaneously grabbed his hand so that I wouldn't be lost alone. I grabbed his hand so tight, and it it's even possible, Boim grabbed my hand even tighter. We were looking for the others and couldn't find them anywhere. It was like a chaos. All the time, I was screaming like mad in Boim's ear. I was panicked, right? And he screamed back to calm me down. So I screamed a little bit more and told him to not let go of my hand, and I still remember what he said. He literally screamed at my face: "LO KIRA GUE NGGAK TAKUT?!! MAKANYA TENANG DONG!! SINI, JANGAN SAMPE KEPISAH!!" I was basically kept my mouth shut after that. He never seriously screamed at anyone.

I seriously can't think of how bad I'm going to miss him when he's gone. You see, he's quite irreplaceable. Nobody can joke like him. But I wish him good luck in the future, and hope more than anything that he'll find a place in the world as easy as he find a place in our hearts.

It's hard for a lot of us to find, at the very least, one person in our life that would sincerely give at a friendship. And if someone actually have a person like that, then he or she is lucky.
And I consider myself to be very lucky.

We will miss you like a mad dog here, Ngimbo. Jadi baik2 looo. Jauhi yang haram.

And I believe that I write on behalf of a lot of people to say: So Long Amigo! We'll keep you close to our hearts.
And personally, for me, I hope it would feel like you never leave. :)

Marley&Me

2009-03-06T00:32:00.003+08:00

Marley & Me is this romantic comedy movie, talking about a married couple and their first years of marriage. They decided to have a dog called Marley first to train them before having a child.

It might sound simple enough, but I swear I cried my eyes out when I watched it this evening.

I think there something about the simplicity of the story line that gets you in the mood. Owen Wilson played the husband called John, while Jennifer Aniston played the wife, Jenny. They were both journalists. The story started off with them just got married. And then, after getting a house, John surprised Jenny by buying her a puppy just a month before her actual birthday. So they picked the one dog that would not move from Jenny. They called him Marley.
Marley was a pain in the ass. He was scared of thunders, and nobody could really hold him still since he was 2 years old. Whenever John or Jenny tried to walk him, they would end up jogging. But after a few years, the couple decided that they were ready for a child. So they tried. After only a few months, Jenny was pregnant. However, on her 10th months, she lost her child without any particular reason.
To cut a long story short, they ended up having 2 sons and a daughter. They moved to Philadelphia, had this big house and lived very happily. In the end, Marley was too old to stay strong. A series of stomachache killed him.

Reading the synopsis above, you would think that the movie sucked like any romantic comedy. But you really have to see it to know how different it is. The story line is real. It's not so dramatic, or glamour, or poor in a Hollywood sense. But, looking at the story, it just feels like there is no climax. Jenny and John had some problems, like John's brilliant job offer that he turned down, or the first years of their first child. But it was no climax. Nobody moved out. Nobody slaps anybody. Nobody even fought until they cried.

But that's the beautiful of it. It struck us, remind us of reality. Marriage is not that easy. You sacrifice just a LOTTTT of things. I never see Jenny went out to meet his friends. John met his good friend (played by McSteamy!!) constantly just because they shared a workplace. And when they first have children, Jenny had to get out of her job, and John had to continue working with something he didn't like just because it paid double. They literally stopped dreaming. Their family is the only priority.

Well, personally, I am very close with my family. Watching this, if you're not married, makes you appreciate your parents more. It might seem easy, but it was very hard. I could not ever start to think what would I be when I could not hang out with friends constantly anymore, or giving up writing. And, if you're a mother, or father, it would be a nostalgic movie.

I think Marley&Me is a very beautiful movie. What with living in this current world where you could tolerate divorce so easy, this movie shows how family still matters.
So watch it. It'll touch the deepest of your heart. Even for those who hated dogs (like me!), Marley would make you cry like you're in your closest's funeral. And maybe, you know, maybe you could start to appreciate little things more. Maybe they have the biggest impact in your life.

HKFUA1

2009-03-04T23:07:00.003+08:00

It has been 12 days.

I actually have wanted to write this for so long, but my last week in Jakarta was so packed with lot of things to do that I haven't had time to do this. And I want this post to be seriously written, and wonderfully read. So here goes.

It's been 12 days since my close friend, Harliza Keumala Fuady (also known as bebew, marichu, babaliong, kecil), transferred to Melbourne. Truth is, nothing actually changed. 'Cause while she's in Indonesia, most of the time I'm always in Malaysia. But I don't know.. maybe distance really matters.
I met Bebew when I first moved to Malaysia. When I went to my campus, my brother said that a friend of his also in the Bachelor of Arts program and could be in some classes with me. So he introduced both of us. My first impression was: "this girl is too small to be older than me!" hahaha.. Then I had a talk with her, and it turned out, unintentionally, she was in all the classes I took. I was so happy to be in my first year, first semester, and in a new surrounding, and already have a friend to accompany me.

So after that, the friendship extends. She almost always sleep in my bedroom, and we were quite inseparable. She was not the kind of person that takes things seriously, but she takes friendship earnestly. We became an instant best friend. She actually guided me in the kind of surroundings that was so far from what I had back home. But she wasn't all: "Well, you should not be friends with them. You should be friends with these guys instead. bla bla bla." She gave me a chance to decide for myself, to know which is good, which is not.

She moved back home after my first semester. She continued her studies in Jakarta. At first I was so lost in my campus. I didn't have anyone to share with!! But then I started to make new friends, but none as close as I was with hers. Although I don't meet her 7 days a week anymore, I still always meet up with Bebew if I went back. And we still joke around like we're literally mad. And then our family started to know each other too, and then she became like an actual sister.

Our friendship also has its downside. I can't say that I was proud of this, but once, I was trapped in a situation where this mean girl ask me to meet up to talk about Bebew. And one thing leads to another, and we ended up trapped her in a uncomfortable situation. It all happened in my room, and I remembered it clearly. I still hate myself until this very second when I remember it. Although afterwards I told that mean girl to not involve me in something like that again because Bebew was closest to me than all of them, but I still don't have anyone to blame but myself.
Bebew found out in the end. And I was so ashamed with myself. But we got through that. We always got through things.

There's a lot I can say about Bebew. It could go miles and miles long, but I'll tell you this: Sometimes, human can be so arrogant and forget that they are a lot more social than individual. And when they forget, and things get bad, it's always good to have something you can count on, something that knows us better to not leave us alone in the dark. Bebew is one of those person for me. She's simply always there.

I love Bebew dearly. I love her when she fell down in a smooth surface. I love her when I pushed her on those bridges in PIM2 so that she could finally see how high we are. I love her when we dozed off in Music classes. I love her when we made stupid notes in classes. I love her in the California Fitness' Steam Room when we were confessing our hearts off. I love her when she stood up for me. I love her when she gave out the rumor that I have a heart problem, and at the same time surprises me so that my heart nearly went out of my chest. No. Wait. I hate it when she surprises me. :D
And I hope there'll be more stories to tell later on.

So, Bebew kecil, if you read this, just know that I love you dearly. And a lot of people really do too. So be safe out there, be strong to leave out alcohol, don't skip classes, do your assignments on time, and just know that I am already not patient enough for July to come.

You know, sometimes you just know when some things are worth to keep. So I hope she stays in my little inner circle. I hope in 10, 20, 30 years time, we can still be joking about Lutung Kasarung and laugh our ass off.

They say, truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget. Well, Bew, you are all of those. :)
We all miss you back here. Be good, and i'll see you soon, Kecil!

Special for a day. :)

2009-03-01T23:42:00.004+08:00

Well, yesterday's my birthday and it was a BLAST!!

I just turn 19, and I think 19 is a pretty decent age. I mean, age-wise, you're not as responsible as those who have a Two in front of their actual age. And yet, you're not to be told a silly little thing like the 18s. hah! well, at least, that's what I think.

Anyways, so I got a surprise. at about 12.30 a.m., my cousins came and sang happy Birthday to my face! It was soooo surprising! I was wearing a green loose pajama top, and a pink pajama bottom. It should not go together, so I looked quite embarrassing. But at least, i was very happy. I made a bunch of wishes and blew out the candle.

And then we went down to the dinner table. When I was peacefully eating, suddenly another birthday song was sang, and my high school friends stepped in. And SNAP! I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. I mean, it's one thing about my cousins (although of course it's as surprising nonetheless!), but then again, my friends lived far away from my house. And they always hold a grudge every time I invite them to my house. And suddenly they came out of nowhere after midnight!!

You know what? I won't bore you with the details of my personal lives.

But I was just thinking. I am the kind of person that could not get mad or angry for long. Every time someone raise their tone in front of me, my knees went weak. And I always thought of my inability to be mad/get mad at as a certain weakness. But that night, I felt like maybe it's a good thing. Maybe that way, people actually find it easy to be near me. Maybe that way, there's a certain place for me in their life.

Maybe not.

Either way, I feel so blessed right now. Only a selected few can feel a proof of respect and love. And friends who are worth enough to bring tears to your eyes

Happy Birthday, Me!!
Blew out the candle, and may fortune meddle! :')

Life's not a solid brick wall, after all.

2009-02-18T00:55:00.005+08:00

So yesterday I was spending a quality time with Sara and Silvi. We were just hanging out, drinking coffee and smoking Shisha in Cilandak Townsquare, when suddenly this middle aged woman with her girlish boy friend came to sit beside us.

At first, I didn't pay any attention to them. But then Sara and Silvi went to pee together, and left me alone. So I opened Haruki Murakami's "After Dark" and started reading. After a page, I lost my concentration to my neighbor's conversation. I began to do what we Indonesians are so exceptionally creative at: overhearing.

It turns out that the girl was this kind of singer that had had some professional contracts over the years. And the guy was just her thrashing bin. This is more or less how their conversation went:

Girl: "So about last week, I went to Nias island for a show. For sure you know Nias, right? It's this rural area, some kind of countryside. Not really a big town. The way they do things there are faaarrrr from us who lives in the city."
Guy: "Yeah, yeah. I know. I agree."
Girl: "So it turned out that I should sing with this one keyboard player, and he could not play just any song. So okay then I had to adapt myself with his songs. And, trust me, he played stupid songs."
Guy: "Oh, you poor thing."
Girl: "But the worst thing came when I went backstage after the show. Tessa came to me and told me that I've disappointed my contractor. So then I howled at her. I told her to mind her own business and that if the contractor is not happy, then it's his job to tell me directly. Not by some girl I barely know! And you know what? They don't understand a thing! I am a professional. And I know what I'm doing. I was performing in a rural area. The audience would not expect somebody like a diva to sing, so it should be okay for me to have false notes here and there. These rural audiences would be happy as long as there's music to accompany them. They won't know a thing about music, so why bother performing your best job?? They won't know the difference otherwise, those morons."

At that last remark, I felt like I wanted to jump from my seat and spilled a glassful of Ice Latte in her head. She should certainly not boast about that.

I wasn't exactly angry at her, per se. But I was angry that she confirmed the many bad cliches of big cities. Especially in Indonesia, social inequality is as obvious as Wendy's pimples. Poverty is right there wherever you see, and yet this big cities people would rather feel arrogant because of it, and not even the slightest bit respectful.

So that night, as I was thinking about the conversation, I started reading "After Dark" once again. Came the part when a guy called Tashikawa was talking to this girl called Mari about his sudden strong will to learn Law seriously. Tashikawa explained that the will came first when he was forced to report on several trials to pass on his subjects. At first, he was inspecting the trials as if from above the high chair-- that is to say as a Law Spectator, an objective inspector. But after two or three trials, he felt a weird change in his way of thinking.

At first, he saw these trials as something that must be done. You know, a criminal did an inhuman crime, hence be punished severely. And he always thought that all these criminals lead a different way of thinking, of living, of ending things than him. Never in his mind he thought of burning people's houses or merely beating people to near death. Tashikawa always thought that he and those men lead a completely different lives, like separated by a solid brick wall.
But then he started to think again. Maybe it's not a solid brick wall. Maybe, what separates him (and all the common people who so often passes him on the street) with those of the inhuman criminals' lives are not that exact. Probably, it's just a thin triplex. At one glance, it seems so strong. But then it only took a little bit of wind to waft us toward the triplex, and it would fall down easily. So easily, perhaps, that in a blink of an eye, you would find more than half of yourself (if not completely) in the lives of the criminals.

What I'm trying to say is that Tashikawa's way of thinking should be used for social gaps, too. Who know when the wind would blow too hard for us to hold ourselves together, and the next thing we know, we found ourselves inside the hard lives of those who we rarely cared about. The girl that was talking in the chair beside me the other day would not really understand this. I would not be as far as judging her that she is not a good person, or she doesn't understand social gaps. But it hurts me to see how many people have turn their backs towards those less fortunate ones. Maybe they don't have as high education as we do, but the only thing that separates us from them is possibility. And it's not in our hands to fate possibilities.

In the end, Tashikawa learned seriously about Law, because he thought by doing that he'd find an answer to the questions of these different lives. So maybe we need to care more about the poor, too. You know, start not from what the poor knows about music, but starts from how the hell they survive this far. That would certainly be a valuable lesson, I think.

I quite understand, Mr. Potter.

2009-02-11T22:57:00.002+08:00

Last Saturday, I just realize what it's like to be Harry Potter.

No no no, not the being-an-orphan thing! (thank God. i'm not readyyyyyy) And also not the waking-up-on-your-birthday-to-find-out-that-you're-a-wizard thing. (although this one would be beyond cool!) but the part where Harry feels the occasional pain in his head caused by his scar.

Why do I suddenly talk about Harry Potter, you may ask. Well, I've been re-reading the Harry Potter books (from 1-7) for the past 2 months. It has been addicting. And, surprisingly, I found a lot more fun in reading the seven books without the time gaps of new books launching.

So anyways, while I was on half of the seventh book, I need to go to the dentist to operate my tooth.
(FYI. I've been hating visits to the dentist since I learn to breathe.)
I went to the dentist on a rainy Saturday afternoon, accompanied by my parents. That morning, though, I met my brother who had experience the operation not so long ago. He assured me that I should not feel a thing in the process, thanks to the anesthetic on that particular area. So I stepped into the room with so much bravery I could go to Palestine right then for holiday.

But then, after about 45 minutes (and that is, after the dentist split my tooth in two with that drill thing, and cut the skin inside my mouth, etc.), he started taking this tool that looks like a screwdriver. And yes, my friends, it was used to jack my tooth. He pulled it slowly, at first.
At that exact moment, I remember my brother's assurances. I was not scared, not even a little bit.
And the next minute, I found out. The case with my brother's tooth was a lot different. My tooth, it turns out, had gone inside the skin too deep that it was slipped between my nerves channels. And that means: no matter how much anesthetic I've taken, if I'm still in any way conscious, it would not matter.

Imagine this: suddenly, a pain so mindblowing shot through your mind, ate all your brains out. When you were so dry before, the next minute sweat was all over your face, tears were unconsciously falling down your cheeks. And you can't scream, no you can't! Not even to move your tongue! and it feels like your eyeballs would jump out if you open your eyes. Suddenly, you're not aware of being in a dentist, of being operated. Short is, the unavoidable pain stops you from thinking, from consciously living.

And that happens for more than half an hour with only, like, two 3-minutes break. In the process, the dentist stopped and added dose after dose of another anesthetic, but still. I could not think straight.

When it finally finished, and I was all sewn up, my mind felt so light that it could be floating right out of my head. For the rest of the night that day, I honestly can't think straight. The pain still overtook me.

So, yeah, I know what it feels like, Harry. Although maybe yours is a lot more dangerous than a tooth operation, but I knew what it's like when your mind's not right.

For all I knew, in that 30 minutes, I might be communicating with Lord Voldemort.
Oops. He Who Must Not Be Named, then.

Moh. Dzakki

2009-01-26T20:56:00.002+08:00

early today, at 2 a.m. WIB, Zaki passed away.

at 12 p.m., he's buried in Batam.

Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun.

Life is too short, lads.

A phone call this morning...

2009-01-21T23:28:00.001+08:00

Zaki just got into the ICU this morning.

Please, please pray for his well being.

fragility.

2009-01-20T21:42:00.002+08:00

Yesterday I just got back from Harapan Kita Hospital. It's this big hospital (and quite old, I think) that specialized in lung and heart problems.

I went over there with Mom, Dad, and my brother. Our purpose: to visit my uncle's son. My uncle (called Sakir) was a resident in Batam and he just arrived in jakarta a couple of days ago with his wife and second son for his son's lungs treatment. I ahven't met Sakir in a very long time. I think the last time I saw him was when I was still innocently living in Batam, which was some times about 14 years ago. Honestly, I couldn't even remember how his face looked like. It was a really, really long time ago.

Anyways, because the visiting hours were up, so we could on go upstairs in ones or twos. My mom went first alone. After about 20 minutes, she came down. Her face looked serious. She brought with her a card that would enable two of us to come up. So me and my dad went up.

Arriving at the 7th floor, I came into the children ward. I still remember it was Room 2709. Stepping in, my dad pat Sakir on his back and he turned around. They hugged for a bit. I think it was quite a long time too since the two of them meet up.
And then Sakir looked at me and told me how big I was now. I just smiled. And then I stepped inside the room and saw my nephew for the first time.

His name is Muhammad Zaki. He was born right on Indonesian Independence Day last year, so he is about 5 months now. He was born weighted 2.0 kg, and then it soared up to 2.6 kg after some months. But now, after 5 months, he only weighted 2.2 kg.
Man, if you don't know how a 5-months-old who weighted 2.2 kg looked like, picture this:
A baby just as long as from the tip of your fingers to your elbow. And skin as white as snow. He was very, very pale. And on his little head, there were little hairs. But on his scalp, it looked like he was already balding. And his hand... oh my God, his hands was so small. It's like there is only bones and skin left in him. So you definitely can see the shape of his skull, the shape of his little fingers, which were also as white as snow. And then, when I stepped closer to him, he woke up from his sleep.
He started crying. Because of the abnormality in his lungs, there was only small voices accompanying the wailing. As small was his body, his voice was smaller.

After that, my aunt took him in her arms. He was sitting there, and he looked at me. His eyes was the blackest color. So, looking at him, I waved my hand. I called his name. And then my uncle chuckled politely and said: "His eyes got cataract. He can't really see." Afterwards, I also found out that there's something wrong with his neck, too. He couldn't bend it left or right.

Not long after that, my dad gave his best wishes to Sakir and went out with me. It was so fucking hard to keep the tears inside my eyes. My dad also said that he couldn't bear it any longer. Zaki was so small, and yet so unfortunate.

But then again, Zaki was only a baby. He has so many complication in his short life already, but he was strong. He kept on going. And his parents (God, I can't imagine what would I feel being my aunt and uncle) were so keen on being strong.

You know what? Maybe we're not as fragile as we'd like to think. We are made special, a being that stand out between others. It's just, maybe, as we grow old, we realized how cruel life can be, and how unfair it seems. And maybe then we let our guards down.

But looking at Zaki, I know by heart that we were made so strong, so faithful, and so fortunate not for nothing. We are the being that feels. We are the being that thinks. And so we were created special, so that if one of us forgot how strong we were made, others can remind them of it.

Zaki is still in the hospital. No news yet. Please pray for him.

One step forward, two steps back.

2009-01-12T21:31:00.003+08:00

So let's say there's a girl named Girl. And, accompanying the story, there's a guy called Guy.

So Girl and Guy was friends for a long time. Guy secretly had other feelings slightly more than friends for Girl, but Girl denied it. She denied it so thoroughly that Girl succeeded in deceiving herself.

That is, until Girl had to go away for an indefinite time. Girl suddenly faced with the reality that she had to be away from Guy most of the time. And then she tried to mend things with Guy. She tried to break the deceiving art she had rigorously painted, and took Guy for some other wonderful feeling.

But it wouldn't be the oldest story in the world without being late.
And Girl was late. She could not mend things. Girl could only see Distance made a stone out of her deceiving art, and she had only herself to blame. For a year she accepted that maybe the story of Girl and Guy was only a history to be laughed at for future's sake. For a year she, again, was deceitful to herself.

Although others see it as clear as the blue skies in May. Guy was not a history for Girl, and one could only tell one side of this particular coin.

So may the bells ring. May the years pass away quickly.

May the fireworks be alight and shone bright on her.

And may the flow let her step.

Not to heartache,

for this is the oldest story in the world.

Let her take one step at a time,

without being dragged two steps back.

2oo9

2009-01-01T22:24:00.003+08:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONEEE!

How has it been so far?? Let me see... exactly 21 hours and 28 minutes have passed since we said goodbye to 2008, and I hope everything has been working out a little bit better for everyone.

My new year's eve was humble. I just sat down, ate, watched 3 movies, played cards, and did those things again in circles. But it was fun because I was with my long lost High School friends. I seriously went home with a pretty bad headache of hunger and too-much-laughters. However, at the very least, I started off my year with lots of laughter.
Exactly not like Palestinians in Gaza Strip.
So I thank God for that simple thing.

My wish for this new year is much like everyone else's, really.

I wish for all my hard work (in Uni, especially) paid off.
I wish for a more mature way of thinking, of behaving.
I wish for some proud moments.
And to still share those moments with my parents.
I wish for friends to stay, and not let me go astray.
I wish for a better world, better power, better politics.
I wish for Indonesia to move forward.
And, still, I wish to taste love, and be loved in return.

I wish for simplicity.

For the very reality of what I am thinking right now:
I wish to be able to see Arctic Monkeys and Coldplay live this year.

Draw a line
On the past
it's 2009
Have a blast!

Dear Israelis...,

2008-12-30T22:39:00.003+08:00

Guys, seriously.

There have been peace talks all around the year. You're actually moving a step ahead towards reconciliation. Or (okay, okay, I won't be pushing it) you just actually moving towards something at the very least.

Well, I know how bad history plays in your life. I know when there has been war in generations, that's all you know. And everybody wants to win a war, so... there you go. But I must admit that I don't understand it, because I'm not there. I'm not among those who lives in daily threats. I never live by hanging my life on the line every each minutes.

And I'm no expert in the dirty life of politics. Or in clashes of civilizations.

But seriously. Should you do air raids to Palestine again? Fucking seriously, man!

You might well have been living in threats by the try outs of Palestine's rockets or whatsoever, but you weren't actually harassed!

Why, oh mighty, WHY do you have to attack them? On whose need you based the attack on?? And on whose measurements do you limit the casualties?

The war might be going on again now. Palestines (not only in Gaza Strip, but all over the country) are now started to put their belief back on suicide bombings. Countries all around the world would start taking sides, and war you do. Again.

So, I'm here not to ask for the freedom of Palestine. I'm not asking for the power of Israel. But I'm asking for a bit of a space for the innocent civilians. Let them breathe fresh air, calmly, for once. Let them know how unnerving people lives in other parts of the world.

So fuck politics. fuck instrumentalism.

fuck you.

This is...

2008-12-29T00:12:00.001+08:00

The last Sunday of the year 2008.

New year is on the front porch, friends.

friends.

2008-12-24T22:17:00.003+08:00

When you live away from home, away from your family, all you got is friends.

Some guide you to goodness, and stay with you through flowers and shits.
Some lure you to darkness, and left you feeling with only shits.
Some just say hello without really meaning it.

Some stays. Some goes.
Some comes to you only when they need it, and neglect you when they don't have the need anymore.
But some listens to you even though they were bored like hell.

Then those who stay become good friends.
And good friends become your family away from family.

Currently I'm right at home. When I drove home today, I thought about all the shits I've been through, how some friends treated me like garbage and some actually care enough to call once in a while.
Though as bitter as it is, I have to admit, friends are not family. They can come and go as they please.
But being away makes me appreciate things much more than I usually did.

So today, when I met up to eat at Moro Marem (this pecel ayam place near my high school) with my high school friends, I suddenly felt thankful that even though I only have a few...

I have the few that stays.

And I hope it won't change. :)

p.s. to be completely corny and over sensitive, this post is dedicated to Sarawita HF, Harliza KF, Raisha T, SH Saprita, Ika W, Herdianti MP, Keshia NA. Thanks for being family-ish.

Spells

2008-12-23T21:22:00.002+08:00

I'm sorry for leaving a few days space of not writing. I just got back from Bandung late last night and was too exhausted to even think.

So anyways, I went to Bandung with my dear cousins, Mutya and Bella. It's the first time we're allowed to spend the night away from home with just the three of us, without our family. Although it was just one night (from Sunday to Monday), but it was real fun. We reminisce a lot about our childhood memories, how some of us shitted in our pants, how some of us got cousin-crushed, and (my favorite of all) how the three of us used to catfight. It brought tears to my eyes 'cause I laughed too loud. I really, really enjoyed the times.

I've been away from home for quite some time now. It kind of feels like I've forgotten what it used to be like to be safe, to be guided, to be Islamic. In Malaysia, I like to think that I'm a good girl compared to others. Not an angel, obviously. I consciously got careless here and there, but I'm not so bad. However, looking at it through my eyes right now, right at home, I understood how changed my perception is. It's a completely different world, and if I lost track just for a second... I might be lost for ever.

But hanging out last Sunday night strengthen me.

I was just hanging out at PVJ with Kak Lulu, Deni, and Mutya. Bella was having dinner with her "friend's" family. So at first we were just gossiping over coffee and french fries. It was late already, and through one or two ciggys, our talk wandered.

I won't go to details about what we talked about (because some of it were personal, and some of it were too confidential), but I'll tell you about what I got from one of Deni's story.

So Deni is me and Mutya's newest cousin-in-law. We spontaneously treated him like a good friend, a big brother. It turns out he was not so good when he was young. Well, let's just say that all the Bandung-university-hostels cliches were true. He experienced it. He was not aware of a good path, thinking that what he did at the time was considered very good enough. (just like what I felt.. remember?)
So anyways, this one time, Deni almost went over the line. Really, when you live away from your family, to lure is to breathe. It's so fucking easy. And Deni almost went over the very line that tolerate good and bad. But at the right moment, his mom called.
And what his mom said strengthen me.

When Deni's mother knew what he was doing, she didn't screamed in anger or prohibited him, but she only said 3 things that left me with 3 spells:
1.) You're a big boy now.
2.) Do not regret later.
3.) I trust you.

She might not know it, but 'Regret' and 'Trust' is two of the few small words that means the world to some of us.
I don't want to regret. And I want to trust and be trusted back.
I think that three spells would echo in my mind when I'm out of guidance in the future.
I hope it will.

So yeah, great weekend, great time...
it's wonderful. :)

26

2008-12-20T00:06:00.004+08:00

After 26 years...

Still bath together.

Still sleep with hands clasp together.

Still decides together.

Still goof around together.

Still breathe together.

Still be together.

HAPPY 26th ANNIVERSARY

!!MOMMY AND DADDY!!

"I was always yours to have,

You were always mine.

We have loved each other in and out

In and out

Of time."

-Maya Angelou-

We're too young to know, brother.

2008-12-16T22:23:00.003+08:00

I would sincerely confess that I have no romantic relationship ever. And I do mean ever.

But this fact actually give me a chance to observe objectively. Because certainly most people in a relationship would not be able to see clearly where they flawed and where they should stop. And I like to think that I can.
So, after browsing through social websites and also through my past, I saw one thing that rarely turns out any better, but people keep on doing it . And that is an on/off relationship.

There are two kinds of this relationship.
The good one. One that actually gives the relationship a second chance, and on the way, both parties try their best to reflect on their past mistakes and learn from it. A grown-up thinking of some sort. But there is also...
The bad one. This one destroys you. At first you thought this is just another go of the relationship, but then without you realizing it, it has been the ump-teenth time of 'another go'. So the word break-up then means nothing to you. One night you fight so hard that you feel like no tears are left for you to shed. And then you break up again. And the next day you meet up to talk things through, and the next thing you know, you're already together again. No matter what happens to both of you in the past. When things were stretched for far too long, suddenly being abusive is tolerable. Calling your partner a bitch or a cunt is acceptable. Broken phones or other things that need money to be repaired is normal. One day, if you still tolerate this, you'll have no dignity left. Not for you or your partner, but for all those around you that looks at you objectively. This would affect those that actually love you.

So anyways, if you were wondering, yes. I'm talking about someone in particular.

But this is a lesson learned for everyone in general.

Come on, guys. Think with your head, not with your heart. If you think that you're stuck in this destroying relationship because of love.....
Let's all laugh sarcastically together in your face.
We are too young to know what love is. And if it brings bad effects on you, then would that be love?? And also please, I beg you please, think about people that love you. People around you that care for you. Because you will hurt them too.
And last but not least, think about this life. It's a short life and you should make the most of it. If you feel like filling it with sorrow rather than happiness, then so be it.

For the particular persons I'm talking about, please drown your head deep into ice cold water and wake up. Cos' some of us don't have any care left to give. Some of us starts turning away in agony.
I hope for the very best life for you. I hope it all turns out great, even with the foul-mouthed girl.
A bitch that calls bitches.

And honestly I'm so pissed off right now, so let's take our minds off things and watch this.
Good day!

Spiritual Bliss

2008-12-15T19:54:00.004+08:00

So I just did ESQ yesterday.

For those of you who do not know what the heck ESQ is, it is short for Emotional and Spiritual Quotient. It's a two or three days program where you would begin some kind of a spiritual journey to rebuild yourself for a better personality. Like a practical self-help book. Well, along the program, the trainers would emphasize that the program is not strictly for Moslems, and it also is not an Islamic mission of some sort, but then.. well, I found it deeply Islamized. As I myself am a moslem, I could get on the train.

Honestly, I've never been interested in any kind of self-help programs like this. Like a seminar, for instance. But my mom is a big fan of ESQ and all my big family have attended it in one way or the other. So after a continuous imperative sentences for the whole year, I gave in to attend the ESQ University-Student-special. I was quite curious already about this thing, because people say it's not as highly spiritualized as some assumed. So I signed up with Ika (my High School friend), Sara and two of her friends.

After two days of taking a shower at 6 o'clock and coming back after dark (much like a deja vu for my High School times), I surprisingly got a significant thing out of ESQ. Here's what I personally thought about the popular program:

1.) It is Islamized. More than half of the 2-days program I attended was related to the points in Islam. Don't get me wrong, a lot of non-moslem signed up too, but I can't see what get them interested. Let's say if we have a 12-hours in the program, 7 hours would be about the proof of Islamic notions. Then that would leave 5 hours for a chance to know yourself, to make a better part of you and all around you. Those five hours were actually fun, I dare say.

2.) There's too much wukuf for my liking. Picture this: suddenly the lights went out in that small room and all you could see is blackness. And then one trainer up front would start speaking about all kinds of sins, for you to realize that you have been walking in the wrong path and you should go back to God's way. That after all, who but God has been giving you all you have? Well, really, for me it's quite all right. But then they did this too much that some of it ended up sounding like a cliche. And unfortunately for me, the trainer almost always scream when they remind us of our sins. And every time I heard someone scream so loud, I can't concentrate. And there were times when I sat beside the speaker, and I almost cried because of the loud voices.

3.) There's a lot of crying, for some of us. Not really for me, though. On my first day, I only cried when they asked us to hug the person next to us, and I hugged Ika. I don't know, maybe it feels like I've been missing Ika in my life in Malaysia, so I cried. And continued crying when I hugged Sarawita. But on the second day, I cried a lot. I cried like a baby during the mission statement thing where I hugged Ika and told her what I actually felt inside.

4.) That bring me to the point of what I actually got out of it. The reason I finally gave in to sign up for ESQ is because I've been feeling quite distant with God recently. I prayed as hard as I could, 5 times a day. My life has always been based on Islamic notions. But then I realized it all felt more like an obligation only. Sometimes I even prayed without really meaning it. So this program helped bringing me back to earth, to feel small again. I'm so fucking tired of feeling arrogant, 'cause I'm not. I'm nothing, really.

Okay. Time for me to shut up. Short is, sign up for ESQ if you feel like something important went away from you, or if you feel confused. It really helped in that way. Even if you're quite critical and sarcastic about things like me, in the end, you'll get something new.

My mom's been bugging me about continuing the program to the next step, called ESQ Character Building.
Hmm. I don't know. I might just waste a good bunch of money.
Or I might be wrong.

Three times a lady

2008-12-14T00:06:00.003+08:00

"M" is for the million things she gave me,

"O" means only that she's growing old,

"T" is for the tears she shed to save me,

"H" is for her heart of purest gold;

"E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining,

"R" means right, and right she'll always be,

Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER",

A word that means the world to me.

-Howard Johnson.

Thank you for always being there for me, for tolerating all my lies, for making me feel safe even when the world is the most dangerous place.

Thank you for showing me unconditional love does exist.

Happy Birthday, Mother.

I love you;

always have, always will.

Politic fascination. Ha fuckin Ha.

2008-12-11T01:39:00.003+08:00

So yesterday I went to RCTI office in Kebon Jeruk.

I went there to meet this guy called Mr. Atmadji that have connections to the Jakarta Post editorship. I prepared from early in the morning. The meeting was supposedly to be at around 2 or 3 ish, but I was ready from 12 p.m. I know that this guy would be only like a significant messenger to my internship dream, nevertheless I still want to make a good impression. My brother told me at breakfast that day to wear something not casual, but not too formal. As this is my very first time applying for a job, any job, I was so confused of what to wear. At first, I thought I was going to wear this dress, but then I changed my mind. In the end, i wore my broken white Kate Moss for Topshop Jeans and a Batik shirt. It was a good decision, that one.

So then, I checked all my letters and whatever I would need. Recommendation letter, check. Application letter, check. At 10 to 2, my brother and Anggi, his girlfriend, drove me to RCTI. All the way on the road, I read Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, just to keep my mind off things.

At approximately 2.30 p.m., we arrived at the place. I went inside after numerously convincing my brother to let me go alone (because I know beyond doubt that with someone beside me, I would not be as confident and would be someone other than myself). I went to the third floor after asking the receptionistthe exact place of Mr. Atmadji's office.

The third floor was just this small place and you could directly see another receptionist desk just outside of a closed door. I asked the guy behind the desk for Mr. Atmadji, and he called what I assumed the secretary inside the door. After about 2 minutes, this women came out and told me that Mr. Atmadji just went out. So I told her that I would wait for him.
I sat at that waiting room and picked up a Seputar Indonesia newspaper which was lying all messy in front of me. I was reading the headlines when a guy went out from this other door. I took a glimpse of him and then put my attention back to the headlines. That was exactly when the receptionist guy told me that this was Mr. Atmadji.

And I swore I almost jumped from my seat.

Mr. Atmadji invited me in. I sat inside his office, just this small office but bigger that others around it. After a bit of opening greetings, I gave him my letters as I reminded myself to keep sitting straight. Hell knows how I always sit with my back hunched. And then, after asking me about Monash Malaysia, suddenly out of nowhere he asked me:
"Why do you take International Studies as a major?"
And, SNAP!, just like that my ehad went blank.

Really, to tell you the truth, I never know why I took that major. I always feel excited about the world as a whole. Since I was a child, I always feel curious about the world outside Indonesia, about the cultures, the languages, the people. And that is basically why I took any major with the word 'International' in its title. And, after seeing all the majors offered in the Arts faculty (International Studies, Writing, Communication, Psychology), I took Internationa Studies because I sucked badly at Communication.
So, short is, I have no idea why I took the major.

As usual, when my mind went blank, the result is I would blurt out any first thing that came to my mind.
After about two seconds of consideration (which was not helping at all), I blurted out:
"Because I always feel fascinated about world politics."

and the next thing that came to my mind was: WHAT THE FREAKIN HELL?!!

But Thank God.. thank God he didn't ask more about world politics because then I would blurt out another stupid answer. Truth is, I have never been that interested in politics. It grows on me as I studied it, but then it still is the most worldly thing: dirty, all about power, and life in forcing possibilities.
So when I said I have always felt fascinated about world politics, the perfect respond should be: "HA HA. good one, man!"

But nope. Mr. Atmadji took comfort in my answer, and the meeting went pretty well.

So yeah. The letter should be in The Jakarta Post's hand right now. They are probably considering it, or have thrown it away. Either way, let's hope for the best result out of this.
The waiting time begins. Again. *sighhhhhhh

Potong Kambing 2008

2008-12-09T00:48:00.003+08:00

It's my favorite Islamic holiday of the year, it's freakin' Idul Adha!! yeaahhhhh!!

After spending a great time in Bandung last weekend... (and i'll take a moment of silence and thank Hen2 for the heart-to-heart and showing me around Bandung), I woke up this morning and went to Islamic Village for Idul Adha prayer. As usual, it was already packed when I got there. Lucky I'm in the family, so I got reserved parking and reserved place for the prayer. hahaha. Totally indonesian, man!

But that's not what I want to write about in here right now. Last weekend, when I was in Bandung, was also the time for Arafat fasting. It's a fasting we have to do at the same time with the Arafat days for people who are doing Haj. So I was checking my facebook page when I saw this guy (whom I accepted as a friend and went to school near my campus but actually don't really recognize who) wrote in his status updates: "FASTING ON THE DAY OF ARAFAH ABSOLVES THE SINS FOR TWO YEARS!!!!!"

That got me spontaneously to thinking:
Is religion that easy? I don't mean to judge this person whom I feel like I never even met, but he just got me thinking... I'm a moslem myself, and I feel like I know my own religion pretty deep, hence my familiarity with all this supposedly blessings. Like the one he wrote above in his status. Or like how if you read this one pray called the Akasah, then God would build you a palace in heaven. Or if you did Ramadhan fasting seriously, then at Lebaran, you'd be as good and new as a baby.
Well, let's say, you did this Arafah fasting. But the last two years you've been drinking alcohol, you've been playing with lust, and been trying stuffs you shouldn't try. Then the fact that there's a chance for a forgiveness, you'd do it. at the very least, it's only not eating from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. Then you did it. You did Arafat fasting so that you'll get a chance for a new start.

This worries me. I'm afraid that with all this whispers of blessings, forgiveness, gifts, blah blah blah, religion would be treated as something that is full of bonuses. And, don't get me wrong, I love bonuses as much as the next person, but then again, people sometimes forget that bonuses don't come cheap. You don't get a bonus just like that. You either have to earn it or need it seriously as much.

But really, I know how religion is a sensitive subject. I'm a religious person, although I still have so much to earn to be a good one. At least, religion played a big part in my life. It is the center to my thinking. So, it pains me to see people fasting at Ramadhan just to make the clubbing right after Lebaran feels like a revenge for a month without it. And it pains me to see all this blessings and 'bonuses' treated as another happy-go-lucky coincidences.

So today I watched all the goats and cows got killed. Their throats were sliced, and their organs were cooked. I watched my brother did this to 2 goats, and I watched a cow screamed in pain. And, honestly, although this is my favorite holiday, I don't understand the meaning behind all this. Maybe I just love being near my big family, eating ketupat, seeing the goats got killed, seeing my brother all wet with blood, and seeing thousands of people got together to knock God's attention.
The point is, I don't care about the bonuses or forgiveness behind all this. I love this holiday as it is, not less not more.

Sometimes people see this as a tradition rather than an obligation... but what the hell.
HAPPY IDUL ADHA EVERYONE!

being good is as simple as that

2008-12-05T22:52:00.004+08:00

I am currently running out of things to do. Really.

I was planning on a LOT of things when I was still back in malaysia for my summer holiday. But then, I arrived in Indo, and the good life starts again. I don't really have to cook anymore, to wash my own clothes, wash dishes, etc. And the foods are way, way spicier, so it is definitely the good life. I've forgotten all about my plans: looking for internship placements, or applying for summer jobs, or taking a Mandarin course. You know, that is just to name a few.

So, as usual, today I have only one plan. I was going to Kemang to buy Jens Lekman ticket but then Aksara didn't sell it anymore, so I'm thinking of buying it right at the venue tomorrow in Bandung. So I went to Amor with Sara, Liza, Lidya and Ayudhia. We goof around, especially with Liza's digicam that had this smile detector kind of thing, you know, where every time you smile, the camera would detect it and snap spontaneously. It was the first time for all of us (except Liza, of course) to see that kind of thing, so we goof around like a proud Technology chokers.

Anyways, so at 5.05 p.m., I went out to Pertamina right on the other side of Amor to do Ashar prayer. The Parking Guy in front of Amor was looking at me all the way from when I went out, crossed the road, and went back in again. He looks like the usual Parking guy, you know, all long hair and brutal face. Much like a preman. At 5.30 p.m. I Went to my car to go back home 'cause my parents were waiting for me to play table tennis. In front of my car, the Parking Guy suddenly came up to me...

Parking Guy: You're going home?
Me: Yep.
Parking Guy: You know, I really like seeing someone like you.
Me: Huh??
Parking Guy: I mean, we can always have fun, have a drink, have a ciggy, but then we can never forget about our later life. I saw you going to the Musholla earlier, and, you know, not many people remember praying while having fun.
Me: Well.. yeahhh. We can never, right?
Parking Guy: Yesss! I mean, we live our life happily. You know, we maybe have a lot in this life, but then what about the life after this? Have we done much for that?? We have to think about both lives, right? Work hard but stay earning halal money. We have to remember Allah as always.
Me: Yep. I so agree with you.
Parking Guy: That's why, you know, even though I don't earn this much......

After that, I actually closed the car door. he kept yammering on. But then, I got what he meant. And so he helped me got to the packed street of Kemang safely and told me to have a safe journey home, and I got a smile on my face.

And, just minutes ago, I think I bagged an appointment with the editor of The Jakarta Post for an interview. I am on my way to a working life!

Sometimes it takes the most unexpected person, a stranger, to make you feel most worthwhile.

Thank you, bang!

At last, LAPINDO!

2008-12-04T22:04:00.004+08:00

After a long, looongg battle... it's settled.

The victims of Lapindo mudflow are finally reaching an agreement with the Bakrie giants!!! I am loving SBY now for alarming PT Minarak Lapindo and act on behalf of the poor victims.

One. The victims are homeless because of something they are NOT responsible for.

Two. The ones who are obviously responsible are related to the richest man in the country, and they have turned a blind eye for such a long time while throwing a fucking glamorous marriage and parties as the victims are looking for a place to sheltered under.

Even though it is not completely settled yet, but at least a contract is there and square.

Read about it here.

At the very least, they would be smiling in front of their own home soon. Aminn. :)

Cullen, oh, Pattinson.

2008-12-03T19:58:00.004+08:00

If you've seen Twilight, you might know who I'm talking about.

So I just got back from watching Twilight movie, a movie I dare say have been waiting for since the rumor it was made just came out. My heart was literally pounding so freakin' hard that I can't really taste any popcorn went into my mouth.

I read the novel when I was in my sophomore year in High School, which was about 2 or 3 years ago. I fell in love with the character Edward Cullen quite instantly (and after all the fuzz I made that forced my friends to read it too, they all, too, fell in love). There is something about Edward that brings a kind-of classic romance lit character into the modern life. And the way Bella was narrating the events that happened to her made it feels personal.. like you are Bella. I loved the novel.

So today I was beyond ecstatic to watch how this romantic story turned into a teenage flick. And well.. personally, I think it is satisfying. It looks like the moviemaker knows exactly this flick would turn the heads of teenagers around. They casted the right (..and again, personally) people for the casts. I mean, Robert Pattinson is very much as dreamy as I ever pictured Edward. And Kristen is a perfect one for Bella. They also chose the scenes in great considerations, and left out some unimportant ones from the book.

Negatives are that, really, even for a teen flick, some scenes could still be said to be beyond tacky and very, very corny. Like a video clip. In some scenes, I even pictured (if you're Indonesians, you'd know this) Titik Sandora and Utha Likumahuwa came from behind the trees and sang their old-time-fave love song. And Bella's narration and obvious self-questioning that is so center to the novel seems like gone with the wind in the movie.

But, overall, if you take into consideration the target audience, the movie is a good one. Not great, though. But a lot better than the big budgeted Harry Potter movies. I think.

Anyways, I'd do the others a favor too, then. I would confess that if I see this movie as someone who did not know hell about the book, it would be so damn laughable. Really, really laughable. Even the storyline could make a puppet turned sceptic.

As this is a personal review, and not a dignified movie critics as those guys that yammers in RottenTomatoes, I love the movie. I would watch it again in a heartbeat. Maybe just to look at the amazing Robert Pattinson (oh yumm slurrrppp) or maybe just to get a good second look and see it without the exhilaration of a big fan.

Twilight the novel was one of the best novels I've read, even now after I've learned deeply about literatures and 'heavy' novels. Twilight the movie was good enough to not scar the fans' dignity of the book. So.. yeah. Stephenie Meyer really have stepped in the right moment, and congratulations for the bundle of young screaming girls' cash!

p.s. Can't wait for New Moon. I hope they re-cast Jacob Black, cos' the one they have now is so ugly. Sorry. (~.~*)

Opa: much more than a survivor.

2008-12-02T20:39:00.005+08:00

Tomorrow would be the grand opening (or launching or whatever you call it) of the Museum of Jend. Besar A.H. Nasution. The place is at his own home, and they built statues of the PKI (Indonesian Communist Party) coup inside the house and also racks of awards, gifts and stars from all over the world.
For those of you who might not be familiar with this exceptional guy, A.H. Nasution is a 5-starred General in Indonesia, former Cabinet minister, and a survivor of the planned coup d'etat of the infamous PKI. Of the 7 Generals that PKI planned to kill, he is the only one that narrowly escaped, thanks to the dark night of the time that resulted in PKI's lapse in decision of taking the wrong person (Nasution's own relative, Pierre Tendean). The coup took the life of 6 of the best generals of their time, and many other military officers and even innocent bystanders. The coup also cold-bloodedly took the life of Nasution's second daughter, the then-6 years old Ade Irma Suryani.
Apart from being a national hero, A.H. Nasution is also my grandfather.

Well, he is not really my direct grandfather per se, but he is my granny's big brother.. and as my grandma lives far away in Sumatra, then I became closer to Opa than my own Ompung.

When I was still a child, about 9-10 years old, I knew that he is no ordinary grandpa. I learned in school about the cruel coup that is popular by the name G30S/PKI, and I knew that my Opa is the only survivor, a national hero. But I was still too small to be proud, to know what he really went through and to know who he really is. I was still too small, a 5th grader, when (and I still remember clearly) a man came into my classroom in the morning and told me that my parents needed me, that Opa had passed away. I was still too small to know the impact it has. What I knew back then was only my grandpa had passed away and I was feeling beyond sad, sadder than I have ever felt.
But I knew something in my understanding was wrong when I was in my car, between all the cars in the convoy to Kalibata burial, and all the traffic light was red to give way for the convoy of cars. On one side of the road, a man got out from his car and stood upright, saluted to the cars that passed. And I remember feeling shivers all down my spine. Really, what is missing from my understanding of Opa?

Now that I've learned a lot, and after taking International Studies subjects in my Uni, I began to grasp what a great man Opa was.. or is. All his life, he lived ordinarily. He's just like your grandpa, or any other grandpa. He's a loving man. He doesn't talk a lot. He reads a lot. He worries about the shortage of rice in the 1999 monetary crisis. He smiled and turned his eyes into a pair of thin line when he looked at you, and said: "My eyes are all blurry. Who is this?" And when you told him your name, he'd answer: "Ohh.. Firce... Opa's eyesight is not really good anymore. How are you?" as he pulled your hand down to give you a peck on each cheek, a strong grip that show a great general he once was. He's just another Grandpa...

...except the fact that he knows all about the secret of the past politics. He knows who ran behind PKI. He knows the politics, the rumors, the cruelty of past politics. Except the fact that he received constant phone calls from former presidents. Except the fact that his military strategic book was once used by the Soviet's army as a textbook.

And, besides all that... he remains silent of his knowledge. He was backstabbed, isolated, aspersed by false rumor, and yet he remained silent. For once in a lifetime, I unconsciously witness a man with an exceptional gift: the ability to hold back power and knowledge. He definitely could overturn a government if he wanted, but he remained still. Even when the life he has is so far back from the sacrifice he made for the nation.

Life is profane. And a chance to make life powerful would make most men bend on their knees.

But not Opa. The fact that he remained silent... That very fact, makes him much, much more than a hero. He's like a sincere teacher. Nobody really knows what he had been through and what he had sacrificed, but he actually gives more than anyone.

Soo.. yeah. Tomorrow they'll open the museum to commemorate his life, the part of sacrifice which everybody is familiar about. Well, it's better than the life this nation gave him before.. of isolation and unworthiness. In politics.. a hero is a whole another meaning. So much for being one, right?

I won't go into whatever I know about past politics. The little knowledge that went down from Opa to my dad to me. The past is the past.. and everybody needs stability right now.

Rest in peace, Opa. I really do miss you so much.

Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome

2008-12-01T14:56:00.003+08:00

It's December 1st, and it's World AIDS Day.

I read The Jakarta Post today and there were many more articles about AIDS than it usually had. They talked about how HIV/AIDS in Papua is earning more and more victims and how Indonesians became one of the most rapid 'rising star' in the growth of AIDS victims.

Typical of Indonesian awards, eh?

One of the article also raised an interesting point. It turns out that all the AIDS campaigns are directed towards a prevention skills and definitions of the symptoms. But then, there were so many branches to this plague.

FYI, AIDS started off in the late 1970s as a 'Gay Plague' or something like that. As time passed, people started to realize that heterosexuals can also be infected by HIV. And then the technology was rapidly created, not to cure, but to know better. Curing is maybe still too far out of the question right now.

Howeverrr.., what people often sees is the pointing fingers are blaming female sex workers as the source of the plague. Even statistics showed this commercial sex has tribute most to the deaths of HIV victims. And, yes, the use of needles for drug-users and condom for safe-sex also were mentioned, but they are all mention as the ways to prevent HIV/AIDS infection. As usual, the blame is placed on women (even though those horny guys have a big part in this too).

What the media ceased to mention is, how actually the transmission of HIV viruses tends to flow from MEN to WOMEN. Now eat that fact, and please.. PLEASE understand it's not a blame-game.

If we look closely, the first time AIDS were introduced as the Gay Plague, it was also a form of segregation. When I read that fact, there was a picture in my mind of the majority of conservative heterosexuals smirking their faces and thinking on the lines of segregation. They could be cursing the existence of homosexuals as a disease themselves.

What I mean to say is this: Please see where segregation leaves us. When we see hetero/homosexuals as different beings, a plague so incurable would be eating us one by one. When we play gender-based blame game, no plague would be solved or secured. Just like when we play the 'race' card.. well, everybody knows how well that ends up.

Happy World AIDS day, everyone! It may be incurable, but it still is preventable.

Siblings

2008-11-30T22:53:00.003+08:00

So, today I was thinking about how siblings are different. You know, I always believe that siblings are more complimentary than substitutional. That means, let's say Budi is a very introverted guy while his sister, Ani, is an extroverted, talkative girl. Or Anto loves to stay home while his brother Joni enjoys clubbing.

Or, the case about me is, how I looovee to please people while my brother could care less about it. And how I need to work like mad to get what I wanted (and most times, stop in the middle of the process) while my brother has the very best luck in the world in every each step that he takes. So... we're complimentary to each other. When one of us is not around, the other one would not be able to stand in the place of him/her.

Why, really, do God decided to give genes the ability to divide these talents? Why do I should have the brain and my brother have the charisma? Why can't we share both equally?

This has been said, I think we're complimentary to our siblings because, for most cases, the closest relation we could ever have is with our siblings. Why? Because, for one, our parents don't live in the same era as we do now. However cool they are, they still won't be able to understand how are things in the current world of growing up. Because friends, however obvious their existence are, they would come and go as they please. Just a little thing like monkey-love problem could silence the friendship forever. Because siblings is always in the right place, at the right age, and on the right board.

Maybe that's why my brother decided to talk to me about his job decision. He used to work in the Treasury of Deutsche Bank in Jakarta, that is until he got his 'Excellent!' review and asked to work permanently in the bank. He was so very tired in the duration of three months of working there and he never looked that happy about it. That is why he was considering to let go of the chance and pursue another way of education in this Financing program called CFA.

But the weird thing was, he was asking me these questions about his future and decisions and what he should do, and all I could say was: "well, you know... Choose what you think is best. Follow your heart and I'll follow right behind you whatever happens."

You see, I'm still sooooo far from being the opinionated one for job problems.

While my mom and dad, they have the experience to answer that questions better than I'll ever will. But instead of consulting them, my brother decided in a final point and sat with my parents and told them directly that he had decided to quit his job and study again.

Without any warning.

I can't say that my mom and dad were furious, because... really, if ever there is another advantage that my bro has, it's that people can't really beat him up or be angry at him for long. He's that respectable. But my parents were sad because he didn't consult them first and decided by himself. And they were sad because, obviously, if he consulted them first, this direction would not be what their suggestion would be about.

So... yeah. I can't really find the reason why he consulted me first. I mean, it's even hard for me to decide which one's better: fish or crabs. But maybe it's because the complimentary-sibling and being-on-the-right-board thing. Maybe he talked to me first because he knew that I would sincerely, deeply, support him whatever happen and not try to change his decision.

Maybe he thought I knew his situation better than my parents did.

Maybe I'm just the only blood relative he had other than my parents, thus the only choice.

Or maybe... he's just big enough to make a step of his own and believe in it wholefully, independently. And to compliment the complimentary-sibling theory, that is something that I think I'd never be able to do. Cos' I'll always need my parents as long as they exist.

Therefore.. My lovely brother. If you read this... come on, man! You know we always got your back. And you've got a gift that I never had.. and that's precision. You always know what you want and what you need to do. You know your gut, while I'm here still finding the answer to what the hell a gut is. So use it right, okay?

And truthfully... Mom and Dad have gotten over it. They're cool, eh? We have the cool parents, Woo. Remember that.

J.A.K.A.R.T.A

2008-11-29T21:16:00.002+08:00

Hey!

See?? I haven't written in a pretty long time! Hahaha. I guess I'm just still labile. ;p

Anywayyys.. I'm in Jakarta right now! Fuck yeah!! At last I have the chance to inhale carbon monoxide again, to drive in one of the absurdest roads in the world, to honk every five minutes...

and most of all: to be near my family and friends and feel whole again.

I haven't had the chance to write because my Internet connection (Speedy) is so shitty I feel like crushing the modem to the ground as I scream in anger. So now that I have Internet, I hope it last as long as it takes for me to post this blog.

I have met my High School best friends this past week. Really, the weird thing is, with them, nothing really changed. They still have the same boyfriends (or still don't have any boyfriend), the same attitude, the same jokes and the same fun. Sasha is still as plain as ever. Saprita is still... well, Saprita. Ika still looks like a ball. Pupu still talks like a heavy Javanese. and Keshia is still the same ol' Keshia. It's quite interesting, though, because the life that I have in Malaysia is far from being flat and 'the same'.

I want to write such a long, long post right now, but today is my first day of period and my mood is like a roller coaster I could suddenly breaks down and cry in the next minute.

and then again, even if I write such a long one, what good would it do the world?

I promise I would write something more meaningful next time.

Point is: I'm so happy to be home. or to be near my family.

after all, what is home for us now but an imagined community?

Life after exam

2008-11-18T02:33:00.014+08:00

My Bedroom, Palmville A-9-1.

Wow. My second post in 2 days. Usually I get bored of writing regularly in a small space of time. Let's see how long I'm gonna keep this on. Bet it's gonna be a week. or less?

Anyways, I'm on my summer holiday right now. My exam finished on Nov 6th, which was about 2 weeks ago. Since then, life is not the same. It's freedom, love. effing freedom.

All things got more absurd after Sara and Ayudhia finished theirs too last week. We planned everything in advance. With Dress codes!!

On Friday, we went to this bar in Bangsar called TSB.

(me and Arthur

laughing it off. Desperatiooonn! ;p)

On Saturday, we went to The Curve, and then Werner's in KL.

(Ayu [left] and Sara [right]. And, maybe, someone else with an initial of A?? who knows?)

On Sunday, we went to Pyramid and did a movie marathon. First was a Thai horror flick called The Coffin (in which I almost cried of weak-hearted), then High School Musical 3 (in which I actually cried. sianjing malu ah), and James Bond: Quantum of Solace (in which Sara slept like a baby). No photos for this day because, well, my eyes could not even be straight anymore.

Today, which is bloody Monday (or yesterday, I suppose, bcos it's past 3 a.m. already), we went to Wonder Milk, this pretty cupcake place in Damansara (YUMMY!) then off to Luna Bar in KL.

(me, Ayu and Sara. ABG-style.)

And, what I probably didn't mention was that we went to every Starbucks every effing day. If I'm able to puke right now, I swear it would be in the shape of Caramel Frap.

Well, this semester of Uni for me was pretty hard. I spent weekends reading readings, or read a novel, or do assignments. All in which the freakin' Arts subjects had gone from the comfort of first-year subjects to second-year ones. I've struggled in many aspects of my life, and, as cliche as it sounds like, have learned a lot from it. Therefore, I think I really need these refreshments. Cos' there should be a reward for hard work, right, God?

Let's see tomorrow then. My small buddy the fairymother Silvi would finish her exam period. It would feel kind of complete then. It could be more absurd than it already is.

(well, with Kapipi around, it would certainly be more absurd)

That is it for today. We'll see if I still want this blog by tomorrow. ;p

Toodles! (eww. hahaha)

p.s. Mahqvira, good luck for tomorrow! ciayo and you can beat the hell of the exam! we'll be waiting outside at 2.30 p.m. with Whipped Cream (if u like, with oranges! hmmm)

Hello, World!

2008-11-17T15:11:00.002+08:00

Hey!

I don't know what brings me up to finally publish a blog. Really. People had been telling me so many times to write blogs, but then I never find the desire to do one. Until suddenly last night I decided to make one, to share some things and some thoughts to others. Freely.

(Yahh. Like anyone would ever read this but me, eh? ahhahahha Haizzzz ~.~*)

Short is, I actually made this blog because, being away from home and growing up rapidly in a state where hypocrisy rules, I feel like sharing is better than assuming.

God knows how I hate those that take assumption religiously.

Anyways, if anyone actually read this (quite unbelievable, really), do have a blast and, please... mumble along! :D