one must stand at the edge

The War and Affair of Heartbreaks

2011-11-26T20:51:00.001+07:00

Indeed. It is a war and such an affair to be in a heartbroken experience, so call me old-fashioned if you'd like. I wish I could be less intense in dealing with hearts, but heart is one little fragile creature. And I tend to take it seriously, even when it has to do with someone else's affair. In a talk of being 25, some friends have finally end their search, some are in the midst of making sure, some are simply having fun for life indeed has too much excitement at this time of age. I am indifferent on this, for I believe a state of one person could only meet his/her ability to cope with problems.So, relax if you're not in the state where you wish you would be in this love thing, it'll come around just when you less think of it. And, yes, I know you still wouldn't be relax even after I said so, I had tons of minutes telling myself to relax, yet I still have those crying-while-driving session out of frustation. So, don't listen to me, listen to the one who knows best: God. And even if you don't believe in God, put the rest of the crowd in the bottom of the list, you want to listen to yourself first before looking it out in the crowd. You'd know.

Cheers.

Writer's Block

2011-11-18T11:28:00.000+07:00

The thing about doing what you really like as a part of your job, at times leave me to ponder that 'you know what, maybe I'm not that good in doing this. Maybe I'm just a one lucky kid.' Which really shouldn't be an issue, because even if so, you're doing it and others don't. Then, you start to get into a routine (oh, yes, this so-called creative world has its routine), then some things suck because you have to compromise on what others thought is right - or favorable; then you passed on other writings and thought, 'Shoot, this dude writes better than I.' and of course all the business requests that you can not avoid.

The good (or perhaps dreadful) thing is: at the end of the day you'd find yourself pleased that at least you have the chance to do the one thing you really like. And you're back to the first thought you had before: "Maybe I'm just one lucky kid."

2011-09-04T20:38:00.000+07:00

The last serene night.

September 2011, Epicentrum, Jakarta.

Minds and her words

2011-08-31T18:01:00.000+07:00

The power of illusion and everything that comes in between. The world decided and deprived what is seen and felt through philosophy and provided gifted minds to comprehend. It is a world filled with charm that lingers to the depth of life, yet difused.

An environment of covering has born eversince. People put words to their own definition and assumption to enrich the metamorphed languages. It is the most amusing things to see minds that constantly encodes that one would shiver at the depth of one's thought. Yet, minds are the loneliest and the richest part of your soul. They give you friends that understands yet face you with the hollowness of solitude

The Infamy of The Thought of You

2011-08-31T00:29:00.001+07:00

Ah, yes, and you said it quite clear. And I, I had fully understand as you requested that I comprehend. Mind can not accept what eyes can not see, and your voice had been one that now is not familiar thus I had so often pass by. Yet I have lost in your deep only to find the reason why I be. I am. You are. We have been here, around.

(Rough) Lesson Learned.

2011-05-10T22:05:00.001+07:00

A dive trip last weekend came with a twist. The twist came in indeed a rough way, but it was a lesson learned nonetheless. It was my first diving trip after my first openwater test last December. Within the list, I was taken in as one of the divers, instead of one of the students - and with that I supposedly knew more. Yet, at the end of the trip, it all came down with a fact that one could never knew enough. And I am glad I learned that in such an early phase of my dive into the deep.

The day started like any other at Marina, Ancol - the northern part of Jakarta. It was an openwater trip for the recent students. I wonder if the students were as freaked out as I was on my openwater trip: I was not at all confident with my techniques and skill, my dive profile looks more like a stock exchange graph and I was not sure which part of my body need to balance which part. Being a diver with only one batch differences - I took all the words of the instructor in and react as if it was my first time dive. In a way, I felt better listening their openwater instructions, it helped affirmed what I knew and made me felt relieved that what I thought was lacking, was correct. Then, as we had our lunch after our first dive that Saturday, the reality of being in a world - which was not ours - reached to us.

A fellow diving trip team - who left the pier at the approximate same time with us - just had an incident. One of the member of their trip had asthma as he snorkelled down near the pier in the island. News move fast in a small island like Pramuka. The pier was the main port to the island and lay right in front of our inn. We walked right pass through it everytime we depart for dives, and we had been looking at people snorkelling or having a dive brief before going to the real water. The leader of the team happened to be an old friend of my dive instructors. One of his instructors was a wife of one of our instructor - although she was handling another group from their team at the time it happened. The incident lead to the worst: death. The grief grew bigger when I learnt that a good friend's brother was in their team, and the victim was his good friend. They were on duty for a programme that captured underwater world and a couple days prior we were talking about how he was travelling around the most divine parts of Indonesia's underwater scene and how his brother had been thoroughly in love with the job and the chances.

There was a brief moment of shock that night at our dinner talks. The words had appeared to the media, and man did they brought the stories to their own extent. With all the speculation going around, we agreed the most wise was to wait for the authority to finish learning the case and accept the official statement before we could evaluate what went wrong. I was lucky that my seniors took the it-could-happened-to-us incident in a wise manner. There was no overpanicking amongst the new openwater students, although backing off from the test that weekend might have been acceptable. In a weird way, it took myself to the next level in living: accepting my limits. As, each diver managed to have their own personal profile - a combination of that many elements - that one would never be exactly similar to another. I used to think that these profile refer to your diving skill and how good you are in it. And since it has never been a solitude sport, it is inavoidable to compare to take it as how good your dive are when your limits does not meet your buddy/ team. In my experience, I took all my limits as my weaknesses - when most of the time stood for a whole different thing.

I took my time on my next dive and continued to identify my profile as a diver. I am a slow descender, but I will get down eventually. I would have cramps every now and then due to the new fins and my untrained calves and ankles - I had promised my calves that they will be ready for the next dive, so help me God. I still have to work my buoyancy and have a more subtle diving profile, and my jaw tends to ache thus I need to take of my first stage gear once in a while.

Ah, this dive thing had been harder than I thought, but as it was said as we close the trip, we had been fortunate enough to live and dive and live even more. The world down there were surely beautiful, yet one could easily get lost in the deep. And it was us to know our limit that the world under was not and will never be ours. As we ascend to the surface we brought in our own findings that go beyond the nudibranches, the mantas, the sharks, and the moray eels we'd met. Although some merely acknowledge the physical encounters, the stories that were told is a lesson of gratification, of learning to cherish the details in the world that was not ours.

As for us, humans, we tend to stop cherishing our everydays. I wish we could start diving there too.

*With my deepest condolences to Mr. Ahmad Zakir and his family - of whom I do not know personally. As much as I wish things were led differently last weekend, I am sure the memory of him lives on in his loved ones.

Underwater photograph by: Edwin Tutkey

Amitié

2011-04-25T14:03:00.003+07:00

In the events of befriending, I often thought that I tend to be the one who's there. Not that I'm always there, but I would be around somehow. And, so, the last couple of days I had been discussing with myself, how growing up means adjusting friends. With work, love, family to be juggled, it is only acceptable, that friendship runs with quality rather than quantity. Only, the qualified and short frequency had been lessen too. And I find myself alive enough to face it, and ignore it. For quite a short while.

Apparently I such'm a brat, that I actually had never ignored. I shoved it down and let it shimmer. And, shimmer as it was, today, I decided to text an old friend who has not been around for the reason we both-unconsciously- acknowledged was needed. Yet, he was simply not around and after a while that bugged. So, I harassed his decision, merely out of the insecurity for his withdrawal from my friends and my life. I texted him, without any question upon his being nor expectations of acknowledging the message. I think I just need the message to be with him.

Thus, I burst my tear when he replied. He's the same awkward-reluctant jerk who happened to be a too good of a friend for me not to care. Sebal.

Painting is the silence of the thought and the music of the sight

2011-04-07T09:49:00.000+07:00

I took the pleasure to endure your silence, just to see the painting you're making.

Title is derived from My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk.

Picture taken by @rassinarika on the journey to Semak Daun Island, December 2010.

On Being Chinese.

2011-02-04T15:46:00.003+07:00

This year's lunar New Year, I took a step back to the heritage that made me. We spent the last night of the Tiger year strolling down the road with some friends to welcome the Wooden Rabbit year. And so was my journey towards the past of Chinese in Indonesia and of me being Chinese - from which I know you wouldn't believe.

Yes, if you asked me, I did grew up having prejudices with non-Chinese Indonesian. I guess it was just something that was passed on through generations. In the old times, this Chinatown called Glodok was an isolated place to compound all Chinese in the city from being too overruling. As the Chinese refused to be captured and sent as slaves to Srilanka, the government then responded with slaughter to cut down their number and built fear. Following it, they were forced to live in an isolated area, spreading from what we know now as Glodok.. If they were found to live outside of it, it would only mean: 1. you were a dead body, 2.you were fugitives, 3.you fled outside the fort.

The fort that we refer to here is the fort that East-Indies built to guard the center of their governance from the Sultans of Java attacks. The fort laid down from where the Cisadane river now takes place. After the rebellion, those who were fugitives and their family ran outside the fort. That is how I got my dark skin tone, as these Fort Chinese (Cina Benteng as we call it), is the most aculturated and assimilated group of Chinese. They had family with locals and absorb local culture like dances, outfit, and ways of life. Their wedding ceremony involves Tari Cokek (very similar with the Betawi kind of Yapong, involves "saweran" too), and they have not used any dialect of Mandarin for ages. As for me, I'm stuck with the way I pronounce "jam", as "jem".

On my way down the Confucianism Temple on Lunar New Year's eve in Glodok, I was asked with questions from the friends who joined the party. It was a Confucianism Temple, not a Buddhist Temple. It's similar yet not the same, as Confucianism is not considered as a religion. More of a way to believe. Thus, it combines the main beliefs of gods that Chinese has as well as rooted to Buddhism, which is also part of their beliefs. In the temple you would meet a number of statues, including Siddhartha. All statues refer to the god that you pray to. When you pray out front, there's an altar where people hold their incense and face the south with a bow - south is the suggested as a good direction to pray to for this year. The prayers done here is given to the GOD.

On your way in, the god of money wait right at the door. Money and prosperity he was, with a big fat belly, a big smile on his face, and a pile of fake money that you burnt to give offerings to the god, as well as giving your ancestors some money for them to spend in the after life.

Your eyes would start to tear, right after you enter the altar rooms. The amount of fume is surreal that some people wore goggles. In front of the Kuan Im offering tables, you find people lining up. At hers, the amount of incense weren't as much, they were trying to get the smoke from the incense to cover their body, though. She was the goddess of mercy, and man, how we need mercy in a world that we have now. Then goes the rest of the gods, the kitchen gods, the door gods, the gods of heaven, the gods of earth, and other god you have and feel the need to pray to.

I ended the eve taking my friends to have a late dinner to a porridge parlor nearby. I was surprised of how empty the place was. I know now, we were not suppose to eat porridge on new year, for it represents a hard and poor life. That explains the lenient night out. A good thing I ate noodles that night, with pork of course.

I was amazed that I actually live in a time where these sort of things were actually shared. There were ladies with hijabs at the temple, asking a fellow Indonesian - who happened to be Chinese - the meaning of the words, the prayers, the custom. It's surprising to see how far we have gone into accepting one another after that year where things were reformed. It was 13 years ago. I was 12. I remember that during the day, as I watched the tires got burnt right down the main road, I thought that I was stuck to this unexplainable situation of hating and not understanding. I was the only Chinese family in my area. All my neighbors called my Mom "Jie". And that night, as the main road is filled with cars being burnt and rumors of raped and murderers, my neighbor stopped all drivers heading to the main road, asking them to open their windows or helmet. They were invited for a tea at one of the houses and forbidden to proceed from traveling if they look any slight of oriental. My mom told me they were trembled when they stopped, but the tea help them to feel warm, inside out.

In Memoriam: Geboy II

2011-02-02T10:23:00.002+07:00

I might be exagerating this, but this is in the loving memory of Geboy II, who died after some heartless people decided that they have the rights to kill animals, just because they do not like the way the animal.

He'sour house second Geboy. The first legendary one - frow whom we derived name for our male dog - was our first ever dog. Found him in this random satay vendor near my SD many years ago. My older sister begged to touch this other customer who brought a dog that night. Long story short, the dog was named Lintje, and thus began our dog stories. We drop the name, and put Geboy instead.

I didn't like Geboy I, more out of ticklish really of his tongue when he lick me. And I think he looks old and defensive. But then Gaby came along. She was a dachshund, a black one. Somebody out of no where gave it to us when she was just three months, and she was mine. She is chubby and long and catch mouses in a blink of an eye. Gaby died over food poisoning too. My dad believed somebody threw foods to her, and being a food-lover as she was, she ate almost anything tasteful. Only this time, somebody gave potassium within the food, thus she was poisoned.

I had four dogs at that time. Geboy I, Gaby I, Quack, and Quick. The later ones were newbies and died earlier over age. Geboy and Gaby last for quite a while. Gaby was the last to die from the batch. She had four puppies with Quack.

This Geboy II, is the son of Gaby II, who was given by a friend. After the first batch, we had a hard time nurturing more than two dogs at the same time. Be it to their jealousy over each other, or their hyperactive characters which ruined my mom's garden, most of the time we stick with one or two. Gaby II was okay. She's cute and all. She was quite a social though. She loves to play with new people and would not run away when we take her for a walk, leash-free. Thus, is how she ended up with Geboy II.

On the middle of the 2002 Jakarta's big flood, my family, including Gaby evacuated ourselves to my grandma's -a housing complex with more dogs than my alley houses'. Within those waters, I guess she got carried away and start to carry a fetus. We didn't know that she was pregnant until Geboy II was delivered one weekend. We came home finding Gaby with a puppy in a hole she dig and gave birth all by herself to Geboy II.

This is the Geboy who died yesterday morning. He was found in the water drain in my garden because the rat posion apparently made him continuously thirsty. He didn't ate a thing since Saturday, but would sleep next to a bucket full of water. We brought him to the vet two days ago and was scheduled for IV to ensure his body is hydrated for. He never made it to the next IV schedule. (Additional information: if your dog gets posioned with rat poison, you should find red dots in the vicinity of his leg/ belly area. Some isotonic drink could also help to keep them hydrated.)

After the first IV session, he fell and got seizures. He died 14 hours after that.

A call to the vet, after Geboy left, lead us to another puppy. And I feel bad for having ye another dog to replace Geboy in less than 12 hours after he's gone. This is the reason the new puppy isn't named Geboy even if he's a he.

People, please meet Oliver.

PS: The suspect of the poisoning is a fellow neighbor with cats. Ironic as it is, I wish to stop the cycle. Some sneeze powder would do them well though.

2010-12-28T09:12:00.002+07:00

As the wind breathe the air of lone, it's a wandering journey I enjoy yet despise. The constant waiting and endless loving could always end up with frost bite. It's chilly, as to explain the layered clothing, yet the warmth is addictive, thus I often find myself intentionally standing in the cold.

2010-12-17T12:19:00.000+07:00

If you care to just join thought, might as well you sit down and join me here. I have been talking to the coconut too much - Tom Hanks' version of Wilson in Cast Away looks better than mine. Yes, yes, will you? And sit here. There would be to distant, and seriously, haven't we been distant for way too long. That twitting birds and book of faces don't really give any human touch to our talks don't it? I like you though. I mean, you're okay. And let's just get to the core of our not having any catching up ourselves. Life's been suck for me. Big time. And I suck for losing myself and finding another - what do you call it - alter ego? Well, whatever that is. I took the pride of myself and of nothing else. I took the pride, period. Pride is good, isn't it? I don't care of people, I care only if I harm them. So as long as everybody is safe and sound, we would cheer for that.

.....

Well, no no. I don't mind. I don't wanna talk that much either. I like that you sit there and do nothing. I know how you're doing and I don't care that much if you don't tell stories. Really, do I need more stories now with the rumors going around? Those are way more fun. But if you are in a rush and you have things to say, please. Time's the only thing we can't afford, right? But the bands are playing any minute now. I can't afford to get nor to give you any extra time, though. And for the time being, really, I just want you to sit here and knowing that we're sharing the grass feels like heaven to me. No, I've never been to heaven. Why, of course there is one. Well, you have your own way calling it whatever you want it to be called. I'd see this as a reason of living my life to the fullest though. Again, we can't afford the time, and that heaven is when we can afford those times. I think will choose to live my life then like this. Sitting doing nothing on a scarf on grass while watching them. And you being here, is just the exact version of moment I would want.

Oh, they're starting.

Tentang Teman. Tentang Harapan.

2010-09-25T01:12:00.021+07:00

The story goes in Bahasa Indonesia and English. I am just too excited sharing this out :).

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Ini kisah tentang dua orang teman yang sangat saya banggakan. Sehari sebelum ulang tahun saya yang ke-24 kemarin, saya mendapat hadiah yang luar biasa. Mereka pergi meninggalkan saya, untuk belajar dan untuk mengajar.

Kalau kalian belum pernah mendengar tentang gerakan Indonesia Mengajar, you really should. Ini adalah:

"sebuah inisiatif bersama untuk menggalang putra-putra terbaik bangsa untuk ikut membantu mengisi kekurangan guru berkualitas khususnya di daerah di Indonesia sekaligus menjadi wahana untuk mengembangkan jiwa kepemimpinan dan pengabdian".

Mereka melakukan kunjungan ke universitas-universitas untuk mencari lulusan terbaik negeri ini, yang bersedia menerima tongkat estafet visi bangsa. Dan, ya, kampus-kampus itu masih penuh dengan mahasiswa yang pintar dan memiliki hati untuk bangsa ini. Alih-alih membawa IP mereka yang di atas rata-rata, status mereka sebagai pentolan kampus untuk melamar di perusahaan yang punya nama; mereka memilih untuk meninggalkan keluarga, serta kenyamanan hidup di kota besar, untuk ditempatkan selama satu tahun di lima wilayah terpencil yang mengalami kekurangan tenaga pengajar.

Program ini menargetkan dirinya ke audience yang tepat: mahasiswa yang baru lulus. Yang dengan kemurnian idealisme mereka diarahkan ke sebuah langkah yang sungguh nyata. Yang hasilnya -segagal apa pun kata orang nantinya - tidak mungkin terbuang sia-sia. Ini masalah pendidikan. Anak-anak yang diajarkan teman-teman saya, bersama Pengajar Muda -sebutan untuk mereka yang terpilih - lainnya, akan mendengar dunia yang lebih luas dari yang ada di dalam buku. Mereka akan mendengar cerita burung di Jakarta dan tertawa atas kebodohan kita yang tidak bisa menangkap belalang. Mereka akan belajar menulis sambung selagi ikut mengajarkan Nisa yang tidak bisa berenang, atau Patrya yang menceritakan mereka tentang permainan tenis.

Nisa dan Patrya, dua teman saya yang ada di sana, ikut menulis sejarah. Dari satu tahun penempatan mereka - yang sampai saat ini belum diketahui di mananya - masih ada penambahan dua bulan pelatihan untuk mempersiapkan kemampuan mereka untuk mengajar, beradaptasi, dan bertahan. Mengajar karena mereka akan menjadi guru, beradaptasi karena lingkungan mereka nanti tentunya akan menawarkan gegar budaya yang pastinya menyenangkan, bertahan karena lingkungan mereka nanti datang dengan segala keterbatasan yang ada. Keterbatasan air bersih, keterbatasan jangkauan sinyal telepon genggam, keterbatasan bahasa, keterbatasan alat, dan keterbatasan lainnya.

Selama dua bulan ke depan Nisa dan Patrya masih bisa dikunjungi setiap hari Minggu, masih boleh diajak bermain asal dikembalikan lagi ke camp di malam hari, masih bisa membalas comment dan nge-twit walau tidak sesering dulu. Lalu, tanggal 9 November 2010 (atau tanggal 10 ya? :p), mereka akan menuju ke lokasi penempatan mereka.

Di minggu terakhir sebelum masuk karantina, Nisa sibuk berpamitan dengan semua temannya. Dia anak kota dan punya banyak teman. Patrya, saya yakin juga melakukan hal yang sama, tentu agendanya tidak sepadat Nisa. Dan di malam terakhir, kami mengantarkan Nisa ke rumahnya yang nun jauh di Pamulang. Saya teringat saat kami mendengar Indonesia Mengajar dari mereka. Beberapa teman yang lain juga tertarik, tetapi tanggung jawab pekerjaan yang sudah terlanjur mereka terima, tuntutan keluarga dan lingkungan, tidak mengizinkan mereka berpartisipasi kali ini. Sejak awal, tidak ada keraguan bahwa teman-teman saya ini akan mendapatkan tempat di antara ke-50 Pengajar Muda. Saya ingat saat Patrya melengkapi CV-nya di tengah-tengah istirahat kepanitiaan yang sedang dipimpinnya, bagaimana dia memikirkan prestasi apa yang harus diketiknya, dan apakah prestasi bermain tenis tingkat sekolah terhitung sebagai prestasi.

Saya senang Nisa dan Patrya pergi. Saya beruntung punya teman-teman yang 'kaya' dan saya merasa terhormat bisa membagi mereka kepada sebuah dunia. Dunia yang mungkin kecil karena hanya sebuah kelas berisi segelintir anak yang sempat bersekolah dan mungkin penduduk setempat. Tetapi, saya lebih senang, karena bagi saya, apa yang mereka lakukan menunjukkan bahwa negeri ini baru bisa berlari saat Indonesia dilarikan oleh mereka yang bisa berlari. Bukan berlari dengan cepat, tapi berlari ke arah yang tepat. Bukan berlari dengan langkah yang besar, tetapi berlari dengan pandangan ke depan.

Saat Nisa menandatangani kontrak kerjanya dengan Indonesia Mengajar, dia belum bicara dengan Ibunya. Dia ragu dengan tindakannya meninggalkan semua yang dimilikinya saat ini. Tetapi tanda tangan itu langsung dia torehkan, saat membaca kalimat pertama dalam surat penerimaan dirinya dari sang pendiri, tulisnya, "Nisa yang baik,...." Rasanya lega ada masih ada yang menghargai kebaikan Nisa dan teman-teman Pengajar Muda. Rasanya lega karena masih ada orang eperti Nisa yang begitu bahagia atas hal sesederhana itu.

Saya tidak akan bertemu Nisa dan Patrya selama lebih dari setahun, tetapi sudah bukan porsi saya untuk menjadi egois. Sudah terlalu lama saya egois.

Kutipan dan informasi mengenai program disadur dari www.indonesiamengajar.org

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About Some Friend. About Some Hope

This is a story of two friends to whom I feel extremely proud of. One day before my 24th birthday, I got the best gift a friend could ever ask. They left me, to learn and to teach.
If you haven’t heard about Indonesia Mengajar (Indonesia Teaches, red.), you really should,

"…it’s an initiative built together to gather the best children of this nation to help dill the lack of qualified teachers, especially in Indonesia’s territory; as well as a media to develop leadership and service.”

The team visited universities to search the best graduates who would be willing to receive the pass on of the nation’s vision. And, yes, the campus is still packed with bright students that has a devoted heart for the country. Instead of taking their high GPAs, and honor status as student council’s or coordinator for the college board to further apply at established and well known companies; they chose to leave their family and the luxury of having everything in big cities to be assigned for one year in five different remote areas which are lacking teachers.

I guess the program targeted the right audience: fresh graduates whose sincere idealism is now directed to a real action, which results - no matter how bad - would not go in vain. This is education we’re talking about. The children to whom my friends with the rest of Pengajar Muda (Young Teachers) teach, will listen to the world outside the books they read. They would hear the birds of Jakarta and laugh to our inabilities of catching crickets. They would learn to write as they teach Nisa how to swim or listen to Patrya’s stories of tennis heroes.

Nisa and Patrya are two friends of mine who took part making history. Of one year of placement – which is still under confirmation on where – they get two months of training that will help them prepare the skills to teach, adapt, and survived. To teach, because of course they are going to be teachers; to adapt for they would need to face the exciting culture shock of the new environments; to survive, as the new environment comes with all its lackness - the lack of clean water, cell phone signal, languages, tools, and God knows what.

For the next two months, Nisa and Patrya would still be available for visit every Sunday. They still can hang out with us that day, as long as we return them back to the camp at night. They still could comment and tweet, although the frequency has decreased. Then, on November 9th (or is it 10th?), they would proceed to their placement areas.

On the last week before the quarantine, Nisa had afull agenda of saying goodbyes. She’s a city girl and is surrounded by friends that she cherishes. Patrya, I’m sure also did the same thing, with less heftiness of course. We took her home, on the last night, to her far away house in Pamulang. And I reminisce the first time they talked about Indonesia Mengajar. Some other friends almost join their decision to participate, but due to the work, family, and social responsibility, they have to miss this batch’s selection. From the very first time, I have no doubt that they would get the spot in the final 50 Pengajar Muda. I remember when Patrya completed his online application in the midst of leading an orientation committee, we discussed on whether or not he put his gold medal in the college tennis competition and consider it as an achievement. It's something that he was proud of, and we thought and achievement should be self defined, thus we put that in.

I’m glad Nisa and Patrya got to go. I am fortunate to have such enriching friends and I feel privileged and honored to share them with the world. A small world, as it only consists of some table, tools, and a couple children who have the time to spare for school, and perhaps a bit of local residents. I am gladder for having them there. For me, they’re doing what it means to have Indonesia run. This country could only run when it is ran by those who can run. Not by them who can run fast, but them who can run right – the right direction. Not by them with large steps, but by them who look forward as they step.

As Nisa signed her contract with Indonesia Mengajar, she hasn’t consulted with her Mom. She had doubts, because signing means living all what she had. Nevertheless, she signed it anyway. All because of one sentence that started her acceptance letter, wrote by the Initiator of the program. He said, “Dear kind-hearted Nisa,…”It felt good knowing somebody appreciate the Pengajar Muda’s kind-heartedness. It felt good knowing somebody felt the honor and such happiness to be appreciated over a simple manner.

I would not be able to meet Nisa and Patrya for more than one year, but it’s not my portion to be selfish on this matter. I’ve been selfish for way too long.

Quotes and information on the program is taken from www.indonesiamengajar.org

Cultural Confusion

2010-09-11T13:24:00.000+07:00

These last couple of days, I have been amazed, struck, awed, and overwhelmed with how different people defined culture. Over the years, I have been engaging in a cross cultural non-profit organization in which we emphasize that the culture that we thought, is actually only a tip of these iceberg of culture, consisting of the unseen. The tip of the iceberg, are the cultures that most people felt easier to be defined; languages, dances, ornaments, songs, manner, and others. For the kids that we sent through the exchange programs, it is easier for them to give an impression of Indonesia’s culture through the above mentioned items. But, the challenge would always be the way we think, the way we talk, the manner of choice of words, our communal activities and interactions. One would- or could - easily described Indonesia’s culture as Bahasa Indonesia, Tari Kecak, the smiles people give when you walk down the road, etc. Try to live in Indonesia for at least a year, you will start to see how the physical defined culture is built of these unseen way of live which –if we are taking cultures to the analogy of iceberg – is the bigger part of the iceberg, covered by the deadly cold water. The water is cold, so it’s dangerous if you try to look under, nevertheless try to understand. But I can guarantee you, the view is one of a kind.
For those of you non-Indonesian, trying to understand the culture of Indonesia, fear not, it will only take your life time. First, this country is just massive, both in a good and not that good kind of way. The variants of languages, cultures, tribes, ethnic groups – not to mention if these ethnicities learn to be more open and blend in with each other, thus create a new mixed culture as well as the history that build a culture and is shared by most of the member of the group. A group, so it does not necessarily means that it represents a certain ethnic or religion or province. It simply represent a group of people sharing similarities, be it profession, age, family and educational background, or even any circumstances that brought the group together.

Just take myself as an example, I live here whole my life here and still couldn’t quite get a grip on why things are being done the way it does. Why aunts and uncles meddle on the fact of their nieces and nephews aren’t engaging to any leading to marriage relationship. Or how my family – who are Chinese – succeed in implementing the thought that I should marry someone Chinese when I, myself, is avidly involved in a cross cultural organizations that emphasize on differences and voluntarily thinks that these cultural differences I experienced, have been the best on-going learning process that I had. I don’t understand why in the same manner I had been brought up by my parents, with the similar educational and international backgrounds as my sister, I managed to keep my personal issues to be my own personal matters and rather not share it with my family, since once they get access to it, they would disembodies the whole issue. I'm friends closely with those who wear veils and do their five time prayers, fast, I go to the fasting breaking events and they don't quite get why.

Well, maybe those are a bit subjective, my opinions. What I’m trying to say is that culture is not something you can master, even when it's your own. It evolves, it grows, and it adapts, as well as adjusts. It’s way too dynamic to be defined. And one could never give a full definition of one’s culture over a similar characteristic that they possess. As always, it’s what unseen that matters the most.

the talk up in the air.

2010-09-06T10:49:00.001+07:00

It has been a while since I wrote and you know how things have changed. How I have been ignoring some details and taking for granted most parts. How I have been obnoxious and not caring on consequences just because I can afford them. How I have muffled (if not killed) the part of me I wish could have remained. I feel like time just would not let me to play fun anymore, not that I hate what I am doing right now, but the fact that my deeds bear too much domino effect for every decision of going right or left. And, no, gosh, I still am indecisive as ever. Making promises at a time, with the full knowledge of which promise I would break, with a better manner – thinking that at least that would show how I at least considered on trying. Yes, me. If any, I have been involve on thinking that I have started bearing other people and responsibilities on my shoulder, thus have the fullest right to not consider anyone on things that pleases me. Sure, eventually everything that I do only pleases me, and no other.

I was in love years back – if not in my vicinity, deep within. I’m coming clean to you now, since I’m not coming clean to anyone, that I am as pathetic as ever. I’m not proud with that, as well as I have no intention to change them. I feel more or less comfortable with it, and that’s enough for me. I think the feeling is beautiful and sad at the same time. Hooray that it's real. But I feel awful of the fact that I should have move on. I mean, I have been talking this with you all this time, and I assume you are listening. And you know which file would put this whole thing to. The desktop. It is very accessible as well as harmful. You know what to do with itin the same way that you know what I’d see and feel of it. We’ll keep it ours, shall we? It is as it was.

Do you remember that jar of tears that was showed a couple years back? Well, it was full within that first year, but I haven’t been able to fill it again this past half year. No reason to cry, and I feel it’s just no longer the time. This is what I hate about adults. The society put measure on things we should or should not do, thus, you think that it’s no longer your portion to do it, just because you’re an adult. In a way or another, your subconscience would feel it is the right thing to do. I mean, yes, we should be more aware of all the responsible thingies, but spontaneity and flaws should be as fun as it was, right? It makes me feel that adults are dull. I promise that I will do everything that I can to avoid the dullness side of me. Oh, my, I am indeed dull.

2010-08-13T14:24:00.002+07:00

sometimes trial and error ends up with numerous effect that finds one enangled in the circle of what should not have been. sometime keeping it as it is (or was) is a trial to distinguish what's real. but even that, deteriorate.

what if, what if what was kept could be boxed and sent to the moon and not back?

putting it all in a box is as dangerous as leaving it free. once you open it, the effect should be more hazardous. we've been piling it all up.

the words that came out hid the thoughts the was kept.

2010-08-13T13:59:00.001+07:00

A thought over some distant looking talk on how human in general, despite how straightforward, cocky, and don't-care-what-other-people-may-say kind of person they think they are, constantly hide the thing they which might be the most apparent reason of their being. The most essential thought or belief that was kept.

I do that.

As I thought about it, the more you talk, the less you are heard. For me this should be a simple advertising concept, as far as I'm concern. Remember the three times back-to-back advertisement repeating a sentence or phrase? (They have stopped doing it a while ago, but still it was as annoying that the idea will stuck in my head as a total no-no).In a way, your subconscience refuse the message that was given. If people insist that the advertisement was proven effective to increase sales, I refuse to believe that the purchase was triggered fue to the message being heard and accepted. It was your other subconscience telling you that the product sound more familiar than the one sitting next to it on the display at the grocery store.

And so, as you yell and scream saying what you say and thought was the core of your message, most of the time it's not. Most of the time, you (well, let me put it as I, to keep me from a constant judging mood) keep the very basic thought in, out of the fear that the discouraging comment that you might received would eventually killed the thought. And since thought is the most powerful thing that one might possess, when you lost it, you lose it all.

Talking to some friends late last night, I knew we were busy with our own thoughts as our mouth speak. Trying so hard to ensure that tiny spot that sticks with the core of your values/message/ beliefs/ whatever.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery's carreer as a painter was diminished by the age of 6, a good thing he kept the six years young spirit in. I better keep mine, before it eventually kill itself.

the chickens that soups up.

2010-08-08T00:43:00.004+07:00

Voluntering has been a great pleasure that I have been continuously doing for the last five years, starting from the time I was a newbies when all the seniors were oh-so-intimidating up till the time when those seniors actually let me help them to conduct each session, making decisions, entrusting it all, and hand-in-hand making fun of the newbies. I have the fortunate of having such a complete friends of my year who share the same belief and enthusiasm everytime we do our part in volunteering, it makes everything a whole lot easier.

But, it has always been the kids that made us stay. Well, that made me stay. The always 17-18 years old audience, at the verge of blowing off their excitement due to the thought of living alone for one year with God-knows-who. Of course, it's impossible to compare the students, each year has their own stories. This year though, it was a heck of honor to take part to. Not being a part of the committee was something new, it's hard to get as close and to familiar yourself with the kids. They are simply lovable and is unique in each own way.

I feel very old this year in all its true sense, only able to visit after working hours. Yet, as I skip work to fill in some session, it was worth seeing the passion and excitement and the never ending lesson that they shared.

I promised to put an entry for them in Chapter Jakarta's website. But as technology fails me, the server was over capacity and I couldn't put their pictures there. So, please meet the 22 Jakarta Chapter's students, who are ready to rock the world.

Muhamad Lutfi, Hanissa Zianida, Annisa Sabila Chandra, M. Aryandra Ondrio, Denisa Melati Arsyah, Haikal Eki Ramdhan, Dwinia Emil, Azka Maulida Bastaman, Nurina Sevrina, Hindun Wilda Risni, Nadia Shifa Hardani, Marry Marsela, Shanice Gozali, Nadia Azzahra, Ngungrum Gurani Isdarmadji

Jakarta's AFS/YES Student

Picture is a courtesy of Mr.Arya Ondrio's

Gana Adi Samertya, Sheila Amelia Saleh, Uli Amelia Septriani, Laura Aprilyani, Dhania Yasmin, Khairunnisa, Eleny Marsha Claudia - Jakarta's 2010-2011 AFS/YES Students amongst Indonesia's AFS hosting students

Picture is courtesy of Ms. Elfira Fitri Wahyono's

mata berdebu

2010-07-08T15:51:00.000+07:00

The eyes are now filled with tears over the dust that keep on brought by the wind. It suffocates my lung and hold my steps strong. Breathing seems impossible and sitting is not an option, even after the sucking sand took my feet intentionally. But it was the dust that block the view that added up the hardest point of all. The point of not seeing, of not having a clue. The feet is bearable though calves are almost numb. At least I could still make myself step every one last time. Just this one last time. I've been doing it for years, yet I still keep telling myself that it is the last time to do so. Such denial. Or rather such faith. Depends on how you see'em.

Denial vs. faith. Intriguing and disturbing. Denial is somehow more acceptable. Faith sounds like fairytales.

look for the apetite

2010-07-08T14:37:00.000+07:00

Remember how it was when you lost your apetite? I just did. Last night. And, yes, it was a mind's game. Nothing was particularly special. No one vomit in front of me as I ate, nor did someone do some gruesome action. I was merely walking, and dropped to the edge of nothingness, thus lost the will to eat.

You know your body will deteriorated if you keep on doing so, but find no solution to open up the gate to food. So, you'd continue working and forget the verb until you find it. Eventually

Phnom Penh

2010-06-01T12:19:00.007+07:00

We were no where walking through the city, yet I promptly thought it was one sad city. There was just too much unhealed pain that needed some serious treatment. A walk down Tonlé Sap River slightly revealed what actually happens. People here were trying so hard to find their self-defined happiness; through selling things in order to get money that would ease them up in getting more things that supposedly make them feelhappier. Through street performing kids who were taught to dance and dress in a she-male manner in return for money and cheering passer-by. Applause is nice, and getting cheered on definitely boost one's self-esteem, and you feel better upon yourself. Through building pagodas and burning incense as they do their prayers, aside from bringing the gift to ther gods so that they would hear them praying. Through making crafts and selling them as charity, to ease up their fellow unhappy citizen, although it was initiated by foreigners NGOs. Through building monuments or simply by going out with foreigners because it simply is good money. All efforts are justifiable if you've been through what they had gone.

In some way, it is sad. But seeing it differently, the trauma marked by countless incidents that scar their history, neglegancy and ignorance by the governing party probably helps the ambience that was built. They were probably as threatened as Vietnam was with communism and socialism. Quoting a friend, this country is probably the result of what the Americans had feared Vietnam would be had they not interfered. Alas, Vietnamese find themselves struggled and fought to gain and stand on their own feet, regardless the cost of their lives. But, here, the Cambodians were forced to lose their feet, by the people they hope would lead them to find one. Who could actually recover when your fellow nationmen - to whom you entrust your being - killed their senses to kill yours? Continuously telling you how you could (and should) never proceed beyond others.

They are beautiful. They maintain the most sincere smiles. The one that shows faith that gods, king, the government, or whoever they entrusted to earn their happiness; would eventually give it to them for real. It is only yet to come, and they don't mind the waiting. As Mada patiently wait our snobbish will to go around.

Tonlé Sap River

For Non, whose eyes made me fell in love. He's 2, yet he ruled my world as Ena patiently sit and smile after a purchase of cold mineral water she sold - a result of numerous attempt within the second encounter.

All picture is the courtesy of Abimantrana. January 2010

dive in, peeps.

2010-05-18T15:13:00.000+07:00

I've been wanting to dive lately. But, I made some balancing out and calculation and thought that I would rather explore the landscapes and surfacial Indonesia, before I go under. I know and am positive that I would love the way the sea resonate things underneath. It feels far, even when you are actually in it. Magical.

Life's been good, thank you very much. It is at this kind of moment though, the least I would expect that things would ever go wrong, something happen and make things sort of everywhere, and you find yourself not being able to controll any bit of it. I'm afraid I kinda feel that that moment is coming. And as much as I'm laughing my heart out over those friends who are meddling with feelings related issues, I know in no time, the joke would be on me. Sigh.

i am me.

2010-05-05T16:27:00.001+07:00

Ah, my life has been dull. Not that I hate it, it's just dull. Predictable, well, it's actually not predictable, but even the unpredictables are easy to be predicted. I don't volunteer as much and have been finding ways to put some self searching on my own - of things. And simply random things. I go swimming alone, stay up out till late or even early in the morning to talk, go to Limau for no particular reason but to hinder on the possibilities of falling asleep when I should had been doing subtitles, go karaoke-ing for two days in a row, watch movies in this new-hype-suburb area for simply less cost (which was balanced with the cost of gas and toll way of going there). Simply random and not necessarily benefitting oneself.

It's the same old very good friend, and some new ones which added the sparks in our endless conversation. Much ado about nothing, indeed. Thus, is why I'm in my trip of looking for more. You know, the typicall human nature. Asking for more. So I thought of diving, or vacation, or some more backpacking. I met guys, not projecting anything; the hought of the future and its horrific image, yet pleasant in a way. I count my days of getting old. I count my ways of being young. Even this takes so much than you thought would have.

I am now refered as a better knowing Kakak - ecstatic since that would means that they consider my judgements though I haven't quite fulfill anything. I've interacted with people, and hope that touched some in ways. I think I did well with that.

And, well, there's that time (the 8th night, I figured, of midnight talks accompanied with numerous smell of cigarettes and not to mentioned the Bulungan chirpping birds at 4 AM) , in which a very so-much-in-love-or-rather-just-smittening friend talked about how the past five years had been. Big stuff. Luckily the breeze that Senayan had to offer keep the whole imense talk gets too mellow, we haven't talked in such ways for a while.

The breeze had been helpful lately, especially when the sun is in love with us. Sweaty as we were, you'd find the wind as havenly blush. Ah, and seeing a friend smittening state. Heck, she said that I would be the one getting wed, when no one is actually prospctive to get me there for the time being.

I am in the state of watching and enjoying you, guys.

kelelahan malam ini sedikit melarut

2010-04-15T10:09:00.004+07:00

Hari sudah malam. Dini hari lebih tepatnya. Dan saya sedang masuk lagi ke dalam lubang.

Hari ini di Tanjung Priok, saya kira semua orang tidak serius waktu mereka bercerita tentang adanya bentrokan – yang tadinya saya pikir sekedar bentrokan demonstrasi di Gedung MPR belakangan ini. Sekelebat tayangan di televisi waktu saya pulang kantor tadi, saya anggap sebagai bentrokan antar warga seperti yang terjadi di sekitar Pasar Rumput kadang-kadang.

Rasanya kita mulai kehilangan rasa. Rasanya semua orang mulai berhenti merasa akhir-akhir ini. Saya kehabisan kata-kata dan hanya itu yang saya ingin lakukan. Berhenti berkata-kata dan mulai merasa.

Untuk pertama kalinya, saya merasa bahwa kerusuhan di Jakarta tahun 1998 lalu, lebih masuk akal dari ini semua. Saya merasa, kalau ini terjadi kepada orang-orang Cina (maaf saya orang Cina dan maaf saya harus membawa masalah ras di sini)– kalau ini terjadi kepada orang Cina, setidaknya ini semua akan lebih mudah saya mengerti. Saya akan lebih mudah menerima fakta bahwa ada ke-tidak mengerti-an atas cara orang Cina berpikir, cara berbicara (karena aksen dan pilihan kata-kata), bertransaksi, dan berekonomi. Walaupun saya tidak pernah berharap akan terulang - kerusuhan itu menjadi sebuah proses pembelajaran yang memang perlu kita lalui. Despite the casualties, had we not been in that phase,I doubt any of us would step up to bridge the gap, untuk mendorong bangsa ini sadar bahwa kita terlalu kaya untuk dibedakan; untuk mendorong betapa kami sempat merasa dibedakan dan akhirnya membedakan diri. Saya sedikit bersyukur sejarah itu pernah terjadi dan saya lalui, sekarang saya menjadi lebih sedikit mengerti bahwa setiap orang harus merendah agar kita meninggi. Kita, bukan kamu atau saya.

Tapi kali ini, kita sedang membunuh diri kita - membunuh rasa yang kita punya, membunuh orang-orang yang berbagi rasa bersama. Setidaknya samurai dan celurit yang ditebas, golok yang dikeluarkan, bambu dan bata yang dilembarkan, dan pukulan yang terhantam mengatakan itu. Kita, yang berbagi kepercayaan saat sembahyang, berbagi susah dan pusing saat harga sembako naik, yang berbagi mata, telinga, dan suara saat mendukung tim PSSI. Saat latar belakang budaya, agama, dan ekonomi yang sebenarnya telah kita bagi namun terseberangkan tanpa mengerti mengapa kita berhadapan.

Beberapa hari ini seorang teman sedang mengeluhkan betapa perbedaan latar belakang budaya dalam sebuah komunikasi sosial berujung kepada frustasi dalam tindakan sesepele apa pun. Pak Presiden juga sedang mengatakan itu. It’s unfortunate, karena tidak semua orang punya waktu untuk memahami dislokasi budaya yang memaksa kita untuk selalu melihat segala sesuatu dari sisi yang berlawanan. Seberapa pun kita melihat sebuah pemandangan, dari sisi yang berlawanan semuanya terlihat berbeda. Tak semua orang mau bersusah-susah untuk berpindah tempat untuk melihat bahwa apa yang terlihat dari seberang sana. Ya, memang kita butuh waktu lebih lama untuk itu, mungkin akan butuh usaha yang lebih besar, lebih banyak kesabaran, mungkin akan ada keringat, darah dan goresan; mungkin akan ada tangisan.

Akhirnya saya menangis dan mungkin ini berlebihan. Kali ini untuk rasa yang kita matikan, saat kita membunuh orang yang sekedar percaya, mengarah pada mereka yang sedang (mungkin) tidak beruntung berada di sisi yang berbeda. Seandainya Satpol PP itu sempat melepas seragamnya untuk makan singkong goreng bersama para warga mungkin mereka akan tertawa membahas tayangan Opera van Java yang semalam tayang. Atau bila mereka bertemu di antrian membeli teh di dalam botol, mereka akan sempat berbagi cerita tentang anak-anak mereka yang sedang melalui ujian nasional - betapa mereka bangga melihat anak-anak mereka yang sepertinya akan mempunyai masa depan yang lebih baik daripada hidup yang mereka jalani saat ini. Atau bahwa mereka sering bertemu dan menyapa saat berziarah ke makam yang sedang disengketakan itu, ketika sedang sujud bersama kala dzuhur.

“Ya, Pak, pentungan Anda berdarah, tapi samurai kamu juga, Mas. Sama, lah seperti bagaimana kalian sama-sama dipanggil ‘Ayah’ oleh si kecil di rumah.”

Saat pengeboman terjadi pada Juli 2009 kemarin, saya bilang bahwa ketakutan yang timbul dan membuat kita kehilangan rasa dan mulai terbiasa dengan ancaman – dan bahwa itu hanya akan menjadi sebuah cambuk agar kita tetap berlari. A pad on our shoulder. Kali ini kita berhenti lagi dan melihat ternyata kita masih berlari ke arah yang berbeda – melupakan bahasa yang ternyata sama, keluarga yang ternyata sama, dan kepercayaan yang sama akan besarnya Indonesia. Kita sejenak terlupa dan mendengar teriakan orang dan berbelok.

Semua orang mulai lelah. Kita selalu berteriak dan menunjuk. Mungkin iklan teh celup itu benar, kita harus duduk dan minum teh agar kita lebih tenang untuk mencoba benar-benar berbicara dan benar-benar mendengar.

Ah, I wonder if it's because we never share what we have within us or if we never take a closer look to things that surrounds. Maybe both.

2010-04-14T10:19:00.004+07:00

Being nostalgic always ruin my mood. I am going quite public here. I have not gotten over my past relationship and that there had been times that I have to cope my days one step at a time keeping myself focusing on the biggest lesson I’ve learned: never forget to breath.

I have been enjoying the down hill track. I enjoy having days in which I endured pain, I enjoy days with so much occupancy that times fly and all there were was the fatigue resulting with an effortless sleep. I deprived the days, when Facebook's notification kills me. And if you ask, I would prefer it had never occured, yet the lesson would not be as much. Such cliché that was, but I wish no more than the same thing for him. I doubt I would (or could) have taught him the lessons he had been learning, the people he had been inspired by, the journey that he had taken, the depth he had gone. I treat myself for movies whenever I grief, I took moments to acknowledge how I could stop writing my journal (which means I have been coping rather well), I give my shoulder a pat, whenever I go through the road I used to cry through - this time singing Blur's.

Awkwardly - and I might be in a state of denial - I have never believed in breaking a relationship up. The Bahasa wording it translates to means ‘to cut’, and it seems to be too absolute. Whilst ‘breaking’, leaves an option of cracks, shattered, crumbed to pieces – yet even the tiniest pieces it falls into, gives room to be collected to be either cover the crack, put together with some hot glue, reused for some other purposes, or throw it all away (even when this happen, some pieces of it would closely thrown, making the connection with that one other piece – stay). This, my friends, might be the self healing and self comforting effort. I have learnt, though, that all effort matters even when I stop, it’s my effort to remember to breath.

You could tell the sorrow from my entries, some friends knew what had happened within some of the one or two sentences I wrote upon things. They know me to well, thus I am scared that had they known the state where I’m (still) in, they would feel obliged to reach out. So, guys, if you ever get the chance to read this, I am giving you the standing ovation for sticking around, being the best support systems one could ask. I have been walking the walk and grabbing the branches you had given to pull me up. The walk and decisions to grab the branches is mine and I have much enjoyed the company as I wish that you would stay around as much. However, I would want to look for those branches. I have troubled you enough as I get consumped with myself. My biggest apology. I would still trouble you, though, as I am requesting to find you walking before me through the aisle at the church, with your hijab, your red nine-west, your sneakers, your dolphin doll, or your Indian sari - the exact outfits I would prefer you in. Oh, and I would expect the lovable ogres to sit with their babies.

Aku padamu, guys. *Meh.

the spirit that was entangled in mine.

2010-04-13T16:39:00.012+07:00

The image is cliche, but that entry you're seeing would take your each step deeper into the world of gods and goddesses.

I assumed, it was build not only to show dominancy, but also to enable each entity - fortunate enough to enter - closer to where gods were; whilst each cycle and breath of sweat brought me to my spirits, the voices of the girls who remembered me, blended into my own. I had the longest conversation with myself, as it was the most conscious state I have ever been.

Angkor Wat, Siam Reap, Cambodia. January 2010

it's that time of the year: Chapter Jakarta's 2011-2012 Selection Series

2010-04-01T12:06:00.005+07:00

Iya, kamu yang di sana! Yang di pojokan itu. Juga kamu yang sedang duduk di bawah pohon, kamu kelas 1 SMA, 'kan? Ah, ya, Mba dan Mas juga pasti kenal seorang anak yang sekarang sedang duduk di kelas 1 SMA 'kan? I am proud to announce that the time of the year has come for Yayasan Bina Antar Budaya Chapter Jakarta Selection Series!! Ini kesempatan yang hanya dibuka satu tahun sekali untuk siswa yang sedang belajar di kelas 1 SMA atau sederajat untuk mengikuti seleksi pertukaran pelayar Bina Antarbudaya/ AFS. Kalau kamu masih kelas 3 SMP berarti kesempatan kamu tahun depan. Kalau kamu sudah ngga kelas 1 SMA, maaf kesempatan kamu sudah lewat, tapi kamu bisa sebarkan informasi berharga ini ke kolega kamu yang masih kelas 1 SMA. Read on, guys.

Sedikit gambaran singkat. Yayasan Bina Antarbudaya adalah sebuah yayasan non-profit yang mengakomodasi pembelajaran antarbudaya - The Indonesian Foundation for Intercultural Learnings. Yayasan ini adalah mitra dari AFS Intercultural Programs yang telah mengelola program pertukaran budaya selama lebih dari 60 tahun. Awalnya (dan pusatnya sekarang) memang di Amerika, tapi kini AFS sudah tersebar di lebih dari 50 negara. Di Indonesia, program AFS sudah dimulai sejak tahun 1956. Baru di tahun 1982, program ini dinaungkan (?) dalam Yayasan Bina Antarbudaya untuk penyelenggaraan program AFS.

Apa yang perlu kamu lakukan? Kamu hanya perlu membeli formulir pendaftaran untuk mengikuti seleksi. Formulirnya dapat dibeli di kantor Chapter Jakarta harganya Rp. 35.000,-. Lumayan lah, investasi sedikit untuk masa depan. Kalau terpilih, kandidat akan diberangkatkan ke negara-negara seperti: Jepang, Amerika, Belanda, Belgia, Jerman, dll untuk tinggal dan menjalani kehidupan serta pengalaman antarbudaya selama satu tahun!

Untuk informasi lebih lengkapnya, kamu bisa cari tahu di sini. Kalau kamu masih ragu, coba cari informasi sebanyak-banyaknya dulu aja. Cuma, ya, jangan sampai lewat tanggal 28 April, nanti keburu sudah tutup.

Buat yang berdomisili di luar Jakarta, Yayasan Bina Antarbudaya juga memiliki chapter di: Banda Aceh, Medan, Padang, Palembang, Bogor, Bandung, Jakarta, Karawang, Semarang, Jogja, Malang, Surabaya, Banjarmasin, Makassar, dan Samarinda. (Untuk daftar dan contact details tiap chapter bisa dilihat di sini) Perlu diingat, jangka waktu pendaftaran, harga, dan sistem pendaftaran setiap chapter kemungkinan besar akan berbeda dengan sistem di Jakarta. Mohon berkomunikasi dengan masing-masing chapter untuk informasi lebih lanjutnya, ya.

we harrassed people every step of the way.

2010-03-30T09:52:00.003+07:00

Ah, hari ini dimulai dengan sedikit menyebalkan. Maaf saya jadi berkeluh kesah di sini, karena sebenarnya sedang tidak ada wacana berkeluh kesah lainnya. Kalau nelepon orang lain, kesannya akan minta dikasihani, padahal ngga. Kalau nelepon orang rumah, mereka akan panik duluan, terus saya jadi merasa bersalah. Mau nulis di buku muka, kesannya malah kayak press conference, mana Facebooknya di-blok sama kantor *sigh. Mau ke Twitter, nasibnya idem sama Facebook. Mau nelepon orang yang pengen ditelepon, yah, jangan harap. Itu sudah jadi keinginan tak tersampaikan sejak dua tahun yang lalu. Si jurnal yang biasanya jadi tumpahan semua sampah saya - ada di rumah. Dia memang ngga pernah saya bawa ke mana-mana. Confidential tingkat tinggi. I would kill my self if anyone reads it. *lagian si jurnal emang bukan barang bawaan, jadi mana mungkin dia ada di kantor pagi-pagi begini.

Iya, masih pagi. Jam delapan lewat dua puluh tepatnya. Saya gulana dan kehilangan mood kerja karena saya nyerempet orang tadi pagi. Nyerempet orang yang bodohnya adalah hasil dari ketidaksabaran saya nungguin mas-mas yang maen muter balik *wait, bukan muter balik, tapi belok terus lurus nyebrangin jalan* di Jalan Raya Pejompongan. Biasanya saya sabar sama masalah-masalah seperti ini. I still ride motorcycles with my dad, so I get the idea of your flexibility, oh dearest drivers. Tapi, saya memang suka gregetan kalau misalnya motor-motor ini mulai merusak, merusak pembatas jalan sekedar biar bisa mutar, naik ke jembatan penyebrangansoalnya puterannya jauh, maksain nyelip di antara mobil, padahal udah tau motornya gendut. I yelled at my father if he ever do one of those things yang dilakukan oleh motoris ngga bertangung jawab lainnya. Enak aja, saya ngga mau disamain sama mereka.

Jadi, pagi ini, ada mas-mas bermotor dan berboncengan yang sedang berusaha memutar di "putaran paksa" (pelanggaran #1) di Pejompongan. Sepertinya mereka nyangkut, sampai temen mas-masnya yang tidak berhelm itu (pelanggaran #2 dan #3, karena mereka berdua) berusaha untuk melepaskan diri dari jebakan sangkutan itu (*doh). Jadi mereka udah setengah jalan. Bagian depan roda masuk ke lubang dan mereka ngga bisa keluar. Mas-mas pengendara motor lain yang juga pengen muter akhirnya kelamaan nunggu jadi jalan ke depan - buat muter di "puteran paksa" yang jaraknya dua meter di depan. *sigh.

Ketika akhirnya mereka lepas dari sangkutan, ternyata mereka ngga mau muter balik, tapi mau lurus nyebrangin jalan ke kios-kios cermin yang ada di sebelah kiri jalan. *sigh, PR berat. Mungkin karena jalannya ramai, dan area itu memang bukan area buat muter balik, mobil-mobil di jalur kedua slonong boy aja di area situ. Pun kalau ada kemacetan, they would excpect the plug would only occur in the right lane, rather than theirs. Jadi, waktu si mas-mas ini akhirnya masuk di jalur kedua mereka lama banget jalannya. Dan rasanya karena saya setengah ngantuk, setengah males nungguin mas-mas yang udah seenaknya aja di jalan (rasanya, kalo memungkinkan dan ngga bikin mereka kehilangan nyawa, mereka mungkin akan guling-guling juga di jalan). Begitu ujung pantat motor mereka ~~sepertinya~~ sudah masuk semua ke jalur tengah, saya pun banting kanan untuk mendahului pantat motor mereka agar bisa meneruskan perjalanan. But, bad calculation. Sepertinya saya menyenggol(apa yang saya kira) ban mereka. Mas pengemudi terlihat seperti mau jatuh, mas boncengan (yang sudah ngga lagi dibonceng) melotot ke saya.

Karena ngantuk, saya ngeliat dia dan lanjut terus. Jadi kesannya karena saya ngeliatin dia balik. Tapi emang, hebatnya si Klaapentaar (mobil saya, red.) saya bahkan ngga nyadar kalo mobil saya nyenggol sesuatu. Saya baru tahu bahwa kayaknya saya nyenggol motor mereka, karena mas-mas di depan ngejaga keseimbangan biar ga jatuh. Dan saya masih mikir kalau yang saya senggol itu adalah ban mereka.

Sampai di kantor, saya baru periksa dan menemukan luka codet panjang di depan mukanya si Klaapen. Catnya terkelupas. *sigh #1. Ada lecet warna orange dari motor mereka. *sigh #2. Dua-duanya lumayan panjang. *sigh #3. Dan sepertinya saya harus menunggu bulan Juni untuk memperbaiki itu semua. *sigh #4.

Saya jadi ingat cerita teman saya, waktu kami berkunjung ke Ho Chi Minh. She wrote a great piece on this. If you thought our traffic is crazy, wait till you go there. Everyone there admitted that the those motorcycles were an inavoidable and inseparable part of their culture. Yes, with 2 motorcyles per household, it's impossible not to get crash or almost hit pedestrians (or tourists), yet everyone seems to be fully aware that it's all parties agenda to ensure you are not harrassing anyone's rights even if you go up to the sidewalks to drive along. Ah, even if there's any infringement, no one seems to mind as no one feels harrassed by it.

I detest what happen today and slightly wish there were no motorcyclists. But, I grew up riding one, so let me put it as, I wish there would be no 'ugal-ugalan' motorcyclist that constantly infringe any law or rule that man could made just to make the road a slightly better place to be. Ah, we grow up in a country where flexibility and compromising nurtured us. But once your choice of being flexible hinder and harrased other people in doing so. I guess we better think twice on what we do. Thus is why law exist, to keep people's right from getting harrassed at all.

Klaapentaart's scratch would be mend in June and I would meet my mom to tell what happen. And she would freak out and not let me drive in some days ahead, but that would be fine. It's been a while that I dread for some coffee in Glodok and driving there is not a good idea.

ter/ce/kat.

2010-03-24T12:45:00.004+07:00

i am suffocating. gasping to be exact. longing for that smooth breath-in that now seems too precious. each inhale doesn't seem to be adding air.
Outskirt of Pnom Penh. January 2010. En route to Choeung Ek Genocidal Center

an ode to a not-so-occupied dear

2010-03-23T16:30:00.003+07:00

Today is a day of infamy. I'm dead serious about it. I don't feel like a human, I feel more like a - well -sluggish. It's 1600hours and ever since the clock hit 0800 hours this morning, I did nothing. And as horrible as it may sound, call me hypocrite or anything, it's working hour, and I'm not suppose to do this. God help me, it's not like I don't want to do anything, but my bosses aren't around, and all the thing that were listed in my to-fo-list involves meetings with my bosses. Well, there are other things that don't involve those bosses, but, the third parties I need to get myself acquainted with for this, are doing last minutes tax reports. Thus, there I was spending hours of stalking people's blogs, seeing what's in, wishing I was 17 again, denying I'm about to be 24, trying to be candid and social. Sigh. What an effort.

I didn't use any of the gifts God gave when He made me. Well, I breathe, I read, I type, none is giving back anything to anyone but myself. Owh, don't you just love being self deprived. I like that word. Don't have a clue what deprived means though.

I have opened my laptop at my office now, which is a bad thing since I already have a PC right on my finger click. But, heck, it's 30 minutes prior to home, yet - what's the word - I haven't quite finished anything. At all. And there's even no ne email coming in. None. Nada.

So, please dear you (or is it dear me), at least focus on something that you'd finish.

And this entry is the first thing of the day that I managed to have it done. Yay, me. Sigh.

collapsing through the edge

2010-03-15T08:56:00.002+07:00

the perfume that was as all those saturdays should have never been worn. it came out of the logical thinking of having it still in my cupboard. it's monday and it should not give any similar sensasions.. somehow i collapsed, and my edges are thin. yet again.

madness

2010-03-06T15:58:00.002+07:00

the ride. the watch.the talk. the eyes. the break. the fake. midnight. day light. comprehend. avoidance. complement. ignorance.

ah, the thrill on the hill

2010-02-22T16:51:00.004+07:00

this was the view from my maine home. i miss it like seriously much. that time when i left them, i thought things were wrong and like i was bounded to not have it again. things indeed were never the same again ever since. i wake up every now and then feeling hollow with the wish of having some fresh dry air that goes to your tonsils and kill them, as it gives the same killing breeze to your cheek and bones. the sensation killed me as i found the yogurt i was eating turned to ice. yet, i am in search for some of those frozing-yoghurt weather.

in the same manner i knew that's how things would be with some people i love and now are no longer with me. may that be of their choice, situation, or me being not around in that same environment that they still are. the fact that leaving maine was not my choice (though i knew from the very first that one year was all i've got). i cried like hell, and i wish i could do the same wailing every time people leave not on my choice, but theirs. or none.

bonds might get less intense, but people are never meant to be erased, no matter how. you hate and curse or cry and wish things were not as they are - but you never could. you would forget but, seriously even if people die, they never quite disappear. as shitty as this fact is, this probably is the biggest blessing there is being human.cause elephants only have their tusks.

kept.

2010-02-10T16:11:00.002+07:00

the email was somehow obscure. i click the send button. now i regret doing so, for i am going to lose the talk now - in which my friend refer as way too dangerous knowing that i'm hiding all the talk i have been doing so far from the rest. but i like the way the feeling was kept. it was kept. the unbridged-unlead-yet-never-ending talk. only about things and cheers.

i doubt there would be any of those in the future.

two months ago, as the decision to stand on one's own was taken, it was clear that apparently: me deciding was not the matter, at all. i bothered too much and wasted my time driving. regression is not an option, as one took things to their hands, bearing the thought to guide it with the force they have never had control of. they need to be (and accept that they are) desperate and weak. it's human.

even when you don't do math, better count small things.

2010-02-04T18:52:00.005+07:00

if you read this blog more than one entry. you would kinda tell how i have this way of telling stories. name it a short sentence or anything, i don't really put styles on my wordings nor do i write constantly over things that had been going on in my life. sometimes i find that not writing over a certain experience makes them worth a bit more, personally. but today, the world feels like screaming tons of message i almost can not contain it all alone.

i started the typicall day wandering on the motorcycle. riding with my dad on his last two months of working days prior to his retirement. and the day has been scheduled for a visit at a hospital. a typicall business one at RSCM. i wasn't excited with the fact that my boss is not coming, thus i had to be the one initiating all the talking. a typicall marketing skill that somehow i need to have.

so there i was, at jakarta's central hospital. wait, let me put it as the nation's biggest medical center. i knew everybody said that everybody goes there to seek for cure. but it was my first time being there, i didn't know the massiveness it offers. it might be not as big as you might have thought for its size - although you'd most likely get lost in it - but try coming on a typicall day, where you 'd find lines of people waiting. some sitting on the chair in groups with their family, some sit alone on the floor having some snack near the garden, some waiting in line for some ease payment. some merely waiting for the elevator to come. then you come to the doctor waiting room, then you see people sitting waiting for their loved ones to come out, and there were people on their bed, waiting to be called in. i never quite thought they would need to be brought to the doctors' place. i always thought the doctors would come to see you up. nevertheless.

then come in the radiology department. a boy sat there, sleeping. until i knew he was not. this huge oxygen tube that was 5 times his size standing next to his aunt(?). with clear pipes running to his nose, and his loving blanky covering his legs, he seems tired. he was on anaesthetia (lord, how is it spelled?). ' just got off from the ct-scan,' said the young lady. she was trying to wake him up. during our time there, he didn't wake. i hope it's the drugs that he took hasn't quite cleared out, nothing else.

then we cross the ct-scan, and saw a mid age young lady telling the patient not to move too much. but what we saw was that the lady inside moved growingly increase. in pain. they moved her out, and the scanned was cancelled.

that time, you would start counting, over the small things that you've been blessed with.

thought so.

2010-01-20T15:41:00.000+07:00

hhf. i knew it. it was just too good to be true coming on a very short notice. call me labil or anything, i am desperately jeopardizing myself in being on this state of conscience.

and all the roads we have to go are winding,
and all the roads that lead us there are blinding;
there are many things that i would like to say to you,
(oasis, february at khao san road)

entering

2010-01-10T10:19:00.000+07:00

ah yes, yes. the world has gone mad and people fell in love. i think it is the end of the world as we know it. and, and that boy walking down the aisle, i don't think he is real. or i don't think he's that real. he still bothers to say thanks and have dinner with his family every night. he goes with his girl he thinks suit him well. some girl he has. so i thought they've owned him and he wants to be owned. but then, there's the lure of computed games, the tempting offer to ignore the world and be wherever his fantasy is, l'histoire beau of the past, the challenging future that was thought would be achieve, the talk with the girl over some nights that was thought would mean something, the bright pink window from where i looked over at him - that keeps bugging him for its color.

ah, that's why he keeps glancing.

One Sunday at Lebuh Chulia. Penang, Malaysia. January 2010.

whatever it was, you really got to see what "is" is all about. and don't ask me of what "will" is doing.

2009-12-23T09:46:00.001+07:00

fun. the enticing part of the slight touch had somehow developped in a way i need to put breaks on. darn it. i seriously thought it would be just a shrug due to the fact that it is inavoidable anyway when you are sitting next to each other - well, rather leaning toward each other as a matter of fact. i did it intentionally.

let the night and the breeze talk.

2009-12-14T14:29:00.007+07:00

the night and the breeze were simply all we got. the routine building had jailed us over the week and we refused to have some more. the people were found, but we were all lost in the journey of not knowing what to find behind the walls. they were cold and it's not even because of the rain. so we slept the night out with the moving stars and clouds on top of our head. and the concrete we laid upon gave an awkward warmth that the walls never provide.

Monas. Jakarta, December 2008.

Let me just shed mine, and you avoid. It is easier. Even if.

2009-11-30T12:08:00.010+07:00

You would shed it too. But not now. Not quite. And how I hope that the shed was mine alone.

Redondo Beach, CA. Winter 2008.

please please do kindly spare me the time to watch

2009-11-17T20:43:00.007+07:00

I have never done this kind of entry - reviews, reccomendations, etc. I just thought this blog was a journal of my own and I don't give reccomendations for myself. This blog grew out of my own enjoyment of re-reading my own writing, seeing how it grows. Now, the blog itself has grown into a way of other people to see the part I am willing to share. A deeper part, yet shareable. And this wishlist was born out my occupancy with works and projects and other demands which put me into a state of not knowing whatever happen in the world of entertainment. Tarantino's "Inglourious Basterds" or the oh-so-hype "2012" had been way ignored though the buzz has been tempting (the later doesn't appeal me as much as the first does.) The point is, I have been missing too much good movies to watch on theater and I surely am crossing my fingers not to miss these followings: (as I cross my other finger for "Inglourious Basterds to stay at Blitz till the mid of next week. I think I would have to gather the guts of watching it alone.)

1. Fantastic Mr. Fox
Wes Anderson made it. With Pixar. But the utmost part of this is that it's a Dahl . I have had a long time love with Mr. Dahl. He wrote children book like noone ever did or does. The fact that children are naive-it-should-be-filled-with-happiness, had never been his way of telling stories. He had this witty way of how life sucks and that bully exists. That life is not fair even for you, kids. Yet, he always grab the feel of children conquering it with a mood of a child. He gives the way of seeing our adult issue, the bitterness we have for being way to exposed to the world that we are about to explode. He gives the world of bitter seen from the world where lollipop is the best paid salary in the world.

Mr. Fox is no exception. I am going to read the book again tonight. It isexactly the way I wish a Dahl's book is portrayed. The Fantasitic Mr. Fox is a story of a fox named Mr. Fox who is, well, fantastic. Great live, a journalist (his voice, oh my, is George Clooney), great family (Merryl Streep is his wife, thank you very much), and a tree of his own. He, however, possess a guilt pleasure of sneaking in for some criminal actions. Rather dangerous, but it's a self actualization of the nature of a fox. He takes the pleasure of sneaking in to the farmers part of the land- the self enriching farmers - and take their stocks. Not so much that he needs the chicken or the egg. It's just that his fox blood always push his athlete mentality to go over the board, litterally. Not even his wife knows about this, and if what she " thinks is happening, is happening. It better not be. " With the outraged farmers' guts all over the place with what the fox did with his bandit friends; they are going to put these animals' coup into and end. For good. A massacre is on planned and buldozers are in position to cut the Foxes' Tree. The Foxes and friends' life is going to get buldozed or else, elsewhere for the farmers.

It should be launched all across America on Thanksgiving Day, which makes me want to be in America for Thanksgiving this year.

2. Alice in Wonderland
Well, you know the story. It's been retold over and over again. For me, it's surreal and absurd for its imaginative storyline. I find my self not able to recall who goes first in the story: the Queen , the cat, or those mini people in the chess game (or were there any?). It's Walt Disney produced (typicall), but it's Tim Burton directed. Oh my, it would be superbly intense and I know it. Burton is some friends' favorite for his way of telling stories. I guess I grew into him thanks to them. He always have this deep dark-fun yet humanizing human kind of pyscholog even when he explains how time stops when you find the love of your life. He dramatizes and takes methaphors litterally, which makes his movies both absurd yet has the quality of making you comprehend those metaphors that you have never quite get. Somehow you comprehend the message to the fullest. I should've known him earlier.
Anyway, Walt Disney is now Burtonizing(!) Alice. The world most imaginative children story is now going to go through the world's most imaginative brain. The storyline would be the same, but it's been said that the movie would actually be a composed story, rather than some happenings happen in a series of event. I'd skip the story, you would know. It's the way the story would be told that would be interesting. Some intense and deep image, wild make over (Depp is red hair and still had this unexplicable sexiness), extraordinary scene and screen play, edgy conversations, and actors acting like you never seen them before (Anne Hatheway is going white blond, super pale skin, and floats). Oh, my, the Alladin-Snow White-Beauty and the Beast-Disney is going downtown with Burton. Oh, my. And it's 3D, I hope that's a good thing. I wish 2010 comes sooner.

I hope "9" is still on.

backyard

2009-11-12T07:53:00.003+07:00

it's hidden and preserved only for us. i share it only to those who care enough. those who don't have no idea what they could have seen, suit themselves then.

Vassalboro, Maine, Winter 2008.

Picture is a courtesy of Titis Lintang Andari.

2009-11-04T07:58:00.008+07:00

you do realize that the world has gone mad, right?
no, no, i'm not trying to be all apatis or pessimistic here. i'm just saying, it has. doesn't mean this world (or life) is any less worth to live in. it just make everything a bit more challenging in a way. blurry on some side, thrilling on others.

then again, if you think of it, what's the fun of clearing out the branches?

Central Park, NYC. Winter 2008

sur l'atlantis.

2009-10-29T08:35:00.003+07:00

we strike as we strive and hope that they understand. the measure was extreme and was only something i read out of rand's words. i thought it was surreal. but the world is. but it still is the atlantis and as much as i lose my faith in you, you know i would keep bothering.

(p)reserved

2009-10-28T08:34:00.005+07:00

as the end of the year approaches, people gets hectic. with all the business target to be fulfilled, deadlines, agendas, and oh-whatever-things that running chasing me, life has been good all in all.

had a series of thoughtful conversation/discussion/talk with a good friend, which bugs my comprehension upon things. nonetheless it was (well, were) very refreshing. it had been a while that i don't take the time for myself to think of things the way i wish to contemplate. this had happened before, the non-contemplating moments, and usually when this happens it means i've been running way too fast and not embracing the hills and the view.

ahh, the hills and the views and the trees and the round-about animals that could only be find when you seek through the bushes and the tree branches, how i miss them. it has never been good to run along the path. you would get too tired from running. furthermore, you wouldn't even breath its air, you'd run too fast you you'd get to some other point before you even inhale.

thus, i need to slow down.

and thanks to this friend of mine, i did. i think i have been blessed with people around me that actually take the time to stop and look back. not to regret what had been, but to acknowledge whatever things that came along the way. the details that made you feel the way you are as you reach the point of re-starting your engine all over again. and thus you keep what were along the way, the bump and the flowers, the fresh air and the mud. the talk was enlightning for it gave me time to embrace small details all over again.

i think i have been taking too much of my time embracing the details. the phonetic pronounciation of a friend who don't necessarily emphasize that when you say 'and' you need to put a slight 'd' as you close your mouth; the way a friend puts simple grammatical tenses at the wrong place (not that i don't do that); the way i feel driving the car on the path that embraces old stories; and how my friend hold their cigarette, which for me tells something about why they smoke.

or how your first impression on someone should be explained differently, as in how someone would be a preserved rather than a reserved one. the last one lacks one letter but it makes that slight different. yet, would it matter at all, then? as was said, this is just a matter of giving identities and that the identity would always in between, then you would never be a preserved nor reserved man. and, oh how freud were blessed to take his vacant time to think about our consciousness. the consciouness were never there for us. we choose the things we would like to be conscious of. this makes our life a bit more bearable. a bit more comprehensible.

and i have been wondering whether the fact that it is comprehensible or not - matters? for it would never be comprehensible or incomprehensible. it would only becoming one. by the time you get to the point of comprehending it, the incomprehensible would manifest itself and put us to the stage of how we are so clueless, as we are. we know nothing.

and that makes every thing (and every one) much more interesting.

quaking business

2009-10-25T18:01:00.010+07:00

man, life has been rather enriching. for me. there had been having earthquakes all over indonesia for the last 2 weeks. yes, at least a shake every other day. and people starts talking of how vulnerable we are. human does take much to comprehend, when all you need do is to take a step back if you want to comprehend, to stand on your own view.

and the surprise is: you might have the wrong view. we have those moments - in which we tend to think we have the best view compared to others. but how can you see other view, you are standing on different end of the valley. the sight is actually lovely in much more different way. you just need to step aside and go face another direction.

the earthquakes have been heartbraking and traumatizing. but, it pushes me to the limit of my humanity of how we don't master, for we never conquer anything. we are all dwellers.

smitty.

2009-10-20T10:45:00.005+07:00

smittening. ha, to smitten. don't you just love it? both the wording and the feeling.

and oh-you-people

2009-10-13T13:02:00.011+07:00

so, this is probably why you left. i know now. i was in love with how everybody was there, and how great the people were into this. i understand why you wanted to be involved and indulged with the ones that you share this with. i understand why it was. i have to tell you, i probably would do the same thing. backing off and taking the responsibility given. i love you for that. so, i got to feel what you felt, and i got it.

i am so beyond speechless with the visit. the first thing i did was to cry, because i was back to what home was. out of longing to spend more time breathing the air of humbleness, out of the wish to spend more time exploring what had not, and what would be possible. out of the preference to stay within the atlantis. now i know why people chose to be away, away from whoever knows, away from whoever doesn't know. and the silent mountain we saw above the cloud on our flight winked at me. i told him to be good.

thank you for the slight touch, it thrills me in a way. out of knowing that we wish to hold each other, and that you and i both knows it very well. yet, i guess, the slight shrug was all we could be. all i can stand, in fact. i almost forgot how it felt to be shrugged. i almost forgot the one i have been longing to relive the same sort of touch. it was enticing. favor to see if it would be as enticing the next time.

so now i know how you feel, and i don't think i need to bother dealing with your feeling yet again. your abscency throws yourself in jeopardy. oh, and i know you are smittening in your cocky way. the heck, you're as vulnerable as i am. don't bother to wait for me. my plans have gone down hill.

the unromantically romantic people

2009-10-05T15:21:00.004+07:00

oh, yes, it is the rainy season, people. a friend did ask me not to jinx it, but she herself said if things are meant to be then, it will be. so, the air has now cooled off and the air has fallen to its crispiness, the soil is wet with its smell - yet another reason to live your live to the fullest once rain hits the ground. grab a coffee or hot cocoa with melted marshmallow, and trust me peace would be upon the world for that one moment.

a cute little reunion with a friend who i had not met for six years was such a speechless-ing moment. i was in awe seeing how far and not naive we have been. yes, the jokes were stupid and vulgar in a way. frontal in some parts, oh-er, the heck. we were adults. and i can't stop thinking how each and every one of us put meanings to this people we're befriending with. we cherished it in our own way. some relations had grown deeper than others, of course. who can complain? we're the ones who understand ourselves. some unromantically put things in his/her ignorancy, taking just bits of moments like the rain that falls or the full moon view into consideration. he/she, however, would still spare the energy to go to the balcony that offers the full moon and have a talk. pleasant.

woven shades

2009-09-30T14:48:00.006+07:00

Seeing people is easier.
But you know, you need to take off of yourself.
I think we're only good when we're alone, with the needles and threads. When people starts to watch, we tend to get our hands cut - out of trying to explain how and why we weave. Let them enjoy the shade, that we can share. But, please don't bother to talk or ask.

Moosehead Lake, Maine. Fall 2003.

you like being here, don't you?

2009-09-15T12:05:00.003+07:00

this was a friend saying: you can't get any more comfortable than being together and not saying a thing to each other, yet it doesn't bother you to simply be there and not saying a word. well, words have it's limitations. presence, is omniscient.

that black.

2009-09-07T02:20:00.001+07:00

had a talk with a friend last night of a parallel life that might have existed putting different decisions in place of what had had. it was a silencing closure of the intense talk that we did- over him most of the time. the closure was upon me. and i haven't actually meddle in my own self and thoughts, and i think he was speaking my mind. i think i regret that he brought this up yet again, since i have been there so many times, that parallel life of mine. and yes, the decision i made probably took me through a different course of life, which i don't mind. or i don't mind since i wouldn't have known any others. or i think i would know other way of living, but this one that i have now, doesn't harm a bit and actually lead me to had the talk last night. i think he was trying to put revenge on me.

had the decision to leave the ticket and stick with that newspaper was made, it would have been an entrapment of self pursuing fame - which being brought up in a chinese academic focused community made it all well absorbed by then that it's simply endless. seeing your name to be put upon newspaper, buildings, papers, name cards, any printable thing, or even the pursue that was made, is an endless race. but then what ifs were something that i have been avoiding. i knew the purpose was not it.

had the ticket was left, there is no talk. the intense building entrapment would not taken into account. the account would be filled with rewards. the reward was my own. that is not how i want to own life.

the air was so thick, it swallowed me.

2009-09-06T00:22:00.001+07:00

so i never knew the depth and growth of longing. until then. wait, i don't think i have fully comprehend. but i think i know better. or so i think.

i think i have been doing too much thinking.

and it was about how one could be continuously on its edge as it still strive to keep the blood pumping for the sake of making the edge last just a little bit longer, thus you could continue calling this present the moment. with the view on the edge - in which was shared in the most incomprehensible kind of way and would eventually kill anyone of us anytime with its condensed air - who wouldn't want to see it? even when the condensed air gives us all the overwhelming dizziness of being on top of a mountain. the oxygen gets thinner and you feel the thickness of the air chokes your throat. but seriously, after a long hike towards the peak - or pinnacle, or even the field of edelweise or savannah; whatever suits you better- don't you think you would bear all those torture of gasping, as long as you could forever capture the view you see up there?

i never hike, you tell me.

the halls

2009-08-31T11:30:00.002+07:00

alas, the hall was an incredible long path that was made for choice. like any other path of life that you would meet every now and then, and the turn, or the yield, the odds are you would get it right somehow. at least once.

that one time, if you're lucky would get you to a hall with endless possibilities. and even when it seems endless, the path it lays would be unlikely to be the same. the hall had two walls each facing each, each connects with the other with another wall that doesn't seemed to be built, but to grow from both walls. and the roof that covers the passerby's head would somehow exposed you to the magnifying sun or astounding stillness of the moon - when it comes.

etalase

2009-08-27T10:25:00.005+07:00

it was a friend showing me that song - the one from "sore" that was named. and so she said a couple of times of how this song would pretty much sum up her year living abroad.

had you lived in a four seasons place, you would know how september distinct from august. by then, september i mean, the weather's getting cooler, summer shiny days would be less likely to find, and the crisp autumn weather would fill the air. then, of course you'd start to pay attention to the color of leaves, though it was not till october that everything would reach the peak of colored trees. but, september, everyone is in the mood of fall.

and so, living in a same weathered country, you simply lost track of time. to start off, with the weather feels the same all year long, it's hard to differ which month we're in. because you can't feel the different. then, the only thing that reminds you -in indonesia at least- is the independence day, in which everyone celebrates, and also commemorates our halfway through the year. but as for me, the last six years i had been having the best way to acknowledge and evaluate my halfway through the year.

this year my halfway through needed me to be a bit more effort though. regardless, it's the time of the year when i could be fully aware of the past, the present,and the future. you would have a hard time understanding it, because it took me long thoughts and a mom who complains every now and then. this year everything seems to be more surreal for me. having to have to work every morning after a full night watching out for the kids - or simply deciding no to go to sleep for the sake of talking and enjoying the present with - or the presence of - someone who does nothing but drive and flick the car light at 3 am. or simply to sit wait for a song to end before ending the night by getting off from the car. you enjoy sitting and not talking and even forcing yourself to stay awake when you don't need to because you want to share the tiredness of those who have to stay awake. it has always been like that, and that makes you wish everything moves in slow motion, and for august to never end.

september has always been bittersweet for me. it is my self-acclaimed month, and it seems to have its prestige of opening the the soothing season of fall, everything seems to accelerate in a calming kind of way. this time i abandoned september though it has not lost its calming and exciting touch. the last past months was my chance of having this yet again, and this time, i wish to embrace every bit of it.

it's the talk and the walk; the touch you get as a pad on the shoulder, a hug, or simply a hand lent for you to hold. for a split-of-a-second glimpse is really what you need to comprehend what was felt. and eyes looking for yours to just share the depth of your thought which lead to a laugh, a smile, or a longing for presence - when no words were even said.

it is indeed an etalase, no words were needed to be put for you to see. and no one would bother to ask how far you've comprehend, both you and the mannequin knows very well that it's been fully understood.

of learning to lose. of willing to learn.

2009-08-27T08:48:00.008+07:00

congrats, i'm proud of you. you've gone thus far and more to go. my non-existence presence should not matter. the word stated that today, it should come. and when it doesn't, i am beside my self seeing how well i cope with it. tonight is going to be a bit tough, but seriously, doubt is so last year.

apparently and non-pathetically i knew i did once, and that one time happens to last way too long.
oh, bummer.

let me sing you a waltz

2009-08-21T07:56:00.005+07:00

out of nowhere, out of my thoughts.
thus is how nowhere is actually within the thought.

and so your thought is there, within the nowhere,
as you walk that road leading to a studio apartment.
a place of wishes and of songs.

of a friend whose thought had been in the apartment. you know.

of a friend who knows where the apartment is. a visit has been a wish. they say wishes are never said. just because. even the fishes know this.

the apartment is big enough, for two right? then, i'd stop by when the sun sets. and, no, i'm not spending the night.

dyka

2009-08-19T11:52:00.009+07:00

jag älskar svenska. it sounds discreet .
a friend of mine actually speak this. i mean for real, for everyday conversation - when she was in sweden of course. but she is almost inhumane (in a good way) had i not know her in person. she speaks fluently in bahasa indonesia, english, norsk, and now svenska. she's pretty much an elf if you ask me.

dyka. gosh. they even have such a discreet way in saying 'dive'. try saying it, you'd see how your mouth is open but not quite that wide, and when you're about to close it, you give this 'a' in a not-so-opening-your-mouth-kind-of-manner. a great way to describe the verb. not what is seen on (or hear for the word matter), but what's underneath.

avspegla

2009-08-13T09:44:00.002+07:00

a journey of rediscovering one self by confronting thy reflection. of having to see within of why we are the way we are - by looking at it on an eye-to-eye level. i don't think your eyes would lie upon what you see, it's how you interpret it that makes all the difference. others might interpret it differently.

anomaly

2009-08-11T08:29:00.005+07:00

no, it's not about that new favorite coffee place, although that place is extremely soothing, when there aren't too many people around. it's about my state of being. me being the anomaly of everything, everyone. it has been quite interesting as a matter of fact. i have been enjoying it.

so, i have been the anomaly among my group of friends. i am the only chinese - who doesnn't look like one, the only christian, and now the only - out of a few - who doesn't smoke. not that it matters that much. but, yes. most of my bestest friend smoke. it gets more intense as we entered our twenties. probably the adulthood and legal age gives us justification to do what we think suits us best. i don't mind that.

i don't like smokes, i don't get why people are doing it, (even after i make a thesis about it.) i crave for fresh cloves from a freshly opened box of cigarettes, but that's about as far as i can go. i was thinking about it the other day. a friend brought the topic up and i all of a sudden get a hollow feeling. probably the unstable hormone that has been giving me tantrums for the last month helped, but i was sad. i remember this one time, i found out that a good friend of mine smoke -although i knew by then he was a typical smoker- i was heartbroken. but nothing really changed. i keep hanging out with them. as more friends smoke, i would found myself having to find a restaurant with smoking area just when i'm with them. my clothes would smell like smoke and i'm pretty relieved that my mom trusted me that i don't smoke. i make fun of my friends who recently smokes - knowing that she unintendedly told her dad that she smokes and her dad refuse to talk for weeks. i don't mind if they have a smoking time, which usually means they would step aside to a smoking area in our office or in a restaurant to smoke - and this happens more frequently.i used to join them when they do this, just because i would like to join the talk. but lately i rather not.

and i have never really thought about it. i thought it was just a matter of choice that i would rather have fresh oxygen instead of the tars, although the talk usually worth all the effort of holding my breath. a couple months back another two friends smoke. and as it had happened before, i was taken aback but responded in a more "well, it's human and they have a choice to do so, so be it" manner. but last night talk was rather awakening. i was talking with a friend and she brought this up. and i never realized how much my friends decision to smoke had affected me. i never thought it did. i don't avoid them, i would keep telling them stories, i wouldn't mind spending my time crying with them if they need me to. but it occur to me that ever since most of my friend decided to smoke, it created a distance that i could never reach.

in a way, big deal. so what. it wouldn't change their being. but then, i guess it was the reflection of the anomaly i had been. it was a blessing of the diverse group of inner circle that i have been having. and even with those differences (speaking of SARA? meet my group, it's haven for that) i could relate with even the differences to the fullest. when they choose to not pray, because a boss told them to - just because they don't want the sacred ritual gets obligatory. or when their family values confront our freewill way of living.

so last night, i talked about this with a friend, who -too- recently smoke. i said the differences that we had has always been relate-able, but i could never reach their understanding upon their decision to smoke. and it outcast me in a way. for not being able to understand. and it gives yet another distant [like i need some more.] and not understanding, makes me feel like schmidt. in a way, it makes me feel like a bad friend.

it bothers me for bothering. it bothers me that my friends are concerned. they know i am bothered. it concerns me that they have to think about me bothering it, thus feeling uncomfortable with themselves. it bothers me when they have to go every once in a while just to respect my preference. it bothers me i have to keep myself away, when i don't feel like being in a room full of smoke. and last night was the first time i grief for the distance. i grief because this small matter has always been something i could not let myself compromise. it was a grief i could never lay tears for. it was a distance i could never chase. and the thing is. uff, i don't know.

so, yes, i was casted in my own thoughts last night. but, this shouldn't mean anything. i mean it doesn't change who they are. it might affect my way to respect their differences in choosing things. but we have never been the same and similar group anyway.

i woke up this morning, saying that i wouldn't let this ruin what we had. now i understand the meaning of hollow. it feels just like that this morning. but really, this shouldn't mean anything - a friend told me i need to suck it up. so, consider it done. i have no rights to judge, they never did.

sipirili

2009-07-23T09:44:00.003+07:00

gw tahu ini random, apalagi setelah entry gw yang agak serieus sebelum ini. but oh, well what the heck. this one week time has given me enough thinking sampe gw ga ngerasa bisa berpikir terlalu banyak lagi. and this time, it's going to be me putting it all on you. jadi selamat menikmati. ya, ini akan jadi self-center berat dan gw bahkan mengkorupsi waktu kerja gw untuk bikin ini. perfect. i even lost my idealism.

to start up with, i feel old. not old-wrinkly old. but, old. make sense? wait till you get to your after-college working life, and you start to pay your own bills and stuff. gw ngerti gimana orang-orang ter-oke yang dulu pernah gw idolakan dalam hidup gw, mampu menghilangkan kebebasannya - buat ngelakuin semua yang mereka mau, dan mulai memikirkan: tagihan telepon. gw ngerti kenapa dulu nyokap gw freak out waktu tagihan telepon ngelonjak. now, i do that. dan gw bahkan belum 23 tahun.arrghf.

secondly, i feel old karena rutinitas gw itu gw bagi dengan hampir 80% manusia usia produktif yang ada di indonesia, atau lebih tepatnya di jakarta. you wake up early in the morning, have some breakfast, dressing up, get into your car, share the hectic of jakarta and the lovely vapor of its air in the morning (yes, we consume carbon monoxide, every step of the way, thank you very much). you stay till 12, you go out for lunch, you work till 5, you come home to rest. nothing's wrong with that. i like it, as a matter of fact. i know i need that to keep myself in order. but, seriously, i need life other than that. makanya gw volunteer, tapi menurut orang dan rasanya emang bener, gw udah ketuaan. butuh regenerasi, so i step back most of the time now. tapi yah, every now and then masih dipanggil, dan nyokap gw masih bingung kenapa gw masih bertahan di sana. uhm, ya karena menyenangkan? and also because i found most of my networking links there. you always find someone who knows someone to help you out. personally and professionally. so then, i look for other activities beside coming home straight from the office. i hang out. sekarang gw ngerti kenapa mba-mba dan mas-mas itu memenuhi mall-mall berbintang (*any such thing?) di jakarta after office hour. you go there, you keep your friends close, you look for people that might benefits you in your career. sure. now i'm being the crowd of the pack.

third, semua orang lagi sosial bangett nget sepertinya. blackberry, twitter, facebook, and god knows what else. we're all trying to be connected. padahal, nokia udah "connecting people" dari kapan tau. loh, kok ya baru sekarang semua orang pengen merasa terhubung. and that exhausts me lately. you know what i do, first thing in the morning or as i need some more time to go to sleep? other than reading books (which i haven't been doing for ages), i check my friends facebook status via my mobile. how freak is that? ngga ada alesan, cuma pengen tau aja udah ada yang berubah apa belum. ini mengkhawatirkan.

forth, the whole me-earning-my-own-money, paying bills, gas, and stuff makes me feel obliged not to mess up. i don't know if you ever hear me saying how i miss being 21. 21 is the greatest year ever. you're legal for almost anything, you're in the middle of college knowing things well, doing things, panitia, organisasi, whatever. ada temen, ada pacar. udah dianggap gede, but here's the twist: you are allowed to mess up. simply because you're only 1 year away from the 20-years-old-you. people would expect you to grow up, but they know you're taking baby steps. and you'd fall every now and then, and you can't quite run, yet. jadi ya gapapa kalo masih minta duit ke nyokap. gapapa kalo lo belum kerja. gapapa kalo lo masih minta dibeliin baju. gapapa kalo elo belum tau abis kuliah mau ngapain. it is A.O.K. makanya gw ga pernah nyaranin anak usia 21 tahun lulus kuliah. seriously, it's the only time of your life in which people start to treat you as an adult, but you still can naturally be a child. kecuali lo mau dikawinin atau S2 ya, which would help you from making adult decisions and go straight to make babies (*this doesn't sound right, i know). or you keep on studying (yang bahkan bukan lo yang bayar, due to your bizzare intelligence that helps you for yet another full scholarship or your parents are paying. again.) i envy you. for both situation.

jadi, saat semua orang bilang suruh cepet-cepet kuliah biar bisa kerja. beware. they might be lying. iya, digaji dan punya duit sendiri emang enak. you have all the rights to use your money. kerja juga enak, you're taking parts in life for real. (* not that you haven't tapi kalo misalnya lo anak minyak, sekarang elo yang nentuin besok kita punya stok minyak yang mencukupi kebutuhan nasional apa ngga. dan kalo lo males kerja, ya terang aja harga minyak per barel bakal naek.) and that, gives you a bunch of things to consider on every move you take. so weigh your judgment carefully, working - or might as well be acknowledged as adulthood - doesn't mean your viva la liberte or whatever. adulthood means you take your decisions not only weighing what suit you best, but also what would give the least bad domino effect to the rest of the future. but i'm kinda glad with this whole thing. the whole adulthood, i mean. i just need to keep young at heart.

makanya gw bakalan tetep jarang pulang dan ngerjain terjemahan, just because.
aduh, kepala gw jadi enteng. enak ya jadi orang yang sederhana.

kembali bekerja.

a thought.

2009-07-20T20:05:00.012+07:00

I couldn’t quite elaborate what I felt when the bomb blew Jakarta again, last Friday morning. I forgot what feeling I should have had. Jakarta, has indeed become a favorite for bombing sites. Only God knows why. It has, of course, the largest Moslem population amongst the globe (though, it is not a Moslem country). It is one of the best place to live in, with the weather and the beaches and the mountains and the people and the variety of cultures and tribes and languages and the thoughts and the opinions and the politics and the democracy ; and the smile which has now become the cry.

Or, so it was a cry. People seem to no longer cry when things like this happen, except for those who directly affected due to losing their loved ones. If you were at the ground zero, you would probably cry, too– more because of the shock, not grief. So, that morning I was searching of the exact feeling I felt or I think I should feel.

This brought me back to August 2003 when J.W Marriott was first bombed. I was in Washington D.C with some 19 friend from Indonesia, being chosen as the first batch of an exchange program which aims students from significant Moslem populated countries to build understanding between American community and Moslem whose image was ruined after the 9/11. It was our first morning, our first newspaper vending machine, and that day, strangely, we felt excited. We had no idea how horrendous the bombing was or the feeling should be, but having our country exposed on the front page of The Washington Post, was overwhelming for us. Only after breakfast, that the staff told us that the bomb was bad and people died. We doubted of the continuity of our program. We were supposed to be there for 11 months. It was our first day, and the program was in jeopardy. Anyway, who would actually take a kid - from a country who annually get bombed - to live with their family for a year? The program was continued, though. We were forced to do some act of diplomacy for our country’s sake way before we even thought we would need to take charge.

And so we took charge, diplomacy in our own way, hoping to at least affect one person at a time. And I think we did well. Until, we got back. A bomb shook Jakarta again. That time I hysterically cried. I didn’t know what the cry was all about. I think it was out of the realization that somehow, after all we had been through, fear was still mastering this country, mastering me. I was forced into still living in fear, although I have been forcing myself to strive and overcome any doubt that would lead there. It was the realization that we were not the country - that we told the world – we were. We were not the kind and full of smile, we were not the peace and loving, nor the diverse yet unified. We were simply the country who has been bombed. And I guess it was a cry out of disappointment, that everything I’ve believed was shattered along with the windows of building along Rasuna Said. And I found no base to believe anything, because none existed. The so called world peace that after my exchange year, I believed to be the purpose of my micro-existence is simply nonsense.

Somehow, throughout the last couple of years, I mend my beliefs. Thus, when Friday morning, the news came about the explosion, I tried to feel mad, sad, ignorant, or else. I found none. I did say, this is stupid and all the typical cliché we usually say about terrorist attack. But that was not it. It was a friend’s words about how she felt heartbroken, which opened my senses. That after the Australian Embassy bomb she had been trying her utmost, choosing to volunteers, to share her believe with her juniors, to touch people’s lives one person at a time, to make people listen- if not comprehend – on why she wear veils yet she befriend with a Christian Chinese and calls a lady with blonde hair in America her mom. She felt all this time, all the effort, the thoughts she shared and the youngsters she empowered, crumbled apart with the bomb.

The feeling I have been searching throughout the minutes of the bombing aftermath. Everything was indeed crumbled, and I felt betrayed. Betrayed by my own faith I’ve been struggling to keep. It’s like when you believe Santa Claus existed. You tried so darn hard to keep on believing, even when the world says the opposite. Then, one day your parents tell you the real truth and you feel betrayed. I’m not quite sure who betrays who, now.

The faith is still there, I know. I guess this is just going to be yet another let down that would only encourage most of us to strive for something bigger. Bigger than any bomb that would ever explode. Yes, the world would curse, pity, help, or even mock. But, we have gone so far and they say the final sprint is usually the toughest one. I guess we’re in that phase; we just need to hold on a bit longer. Supposedly this is yet another pat in the shoulder. So, shall we?

dew

2009-06-24T13:16:00.007+07:00

here comes the dew. after the morn beats the dusk. yet even after a whole night of darkness, the dusk's dark feels like ages.

harus apa

2009-06-01T11:08:00.002+07:00

harus apa kalau semua logika bilang udah ngga ada? rasanya seperti ada orang yang ngambil tanah tempat gw berdiri, dan ga nyediain apa pun untuk gw pegangan. karena selama ini tanah tampat gw berdiri emang udah ga ada juga, cuman gw pegangan sambil ngeliat ke langit, sambil tahu kalo di atas ada langit. sementara semua bilang kalo di atas ga ada yang namanya langit.

kemarin, gw majuin logika. karena bahkan saat langitnya masih keliatan, pegangannya udah ga ada. dan ga ada yang narik gw untuk pegangan.

even the darkness says they believe in a thing called love

2009-05-05T10:02:00.007+07:00

she knows it feels like - if they ever dare to- take away afs and volunteering out of her. and i think her tears fall, because of fear that this year it might happen to her. they won't dare. but if they do, it would kill her. i think she cries for the sake of she wants him to be as happy as he was. yes, she cried even more when he was. yet, she's glad at least he was.

she cries for the tear she shed, which seems to be endless; for the wait that seems to be there but not quite. for the fear that he might be lost when it's taken away, though she's quite certain, he might cope it better than she ever will.

or probably that was what she feared. of him coping it better, of her being left behind. of being strangled in this whole thing, of holding on when she wishes to move. the thing is i think she only want to move to places where he is.

now and then

2009-04-13T10:52:00.005+07:00

August 6th, 2003:
CGK. Gerbang E

A pile of luggage on each trolley. Sweat shirt on a 30 degree. Sun glasses. Crying moms. Excited friends. Lost sisters and little brothers. Grandma and granddad, not knowing what exactly need to be expected. Boyfriends or girlfriends, either trying to be as close as possible to the surrounding, or as far as possible to avoid emotion.Some break ups, some hugs.

20 kids. 16-17ish. a circle, each with a brown big envelope. a yellow tag, huge luggage, a ticket not knowing exactly where on earth it would take them. yet, the chance of being away from parents is both super duper thrilling and frightening. a step passing the immigration line, is indeed what takes you from here to god-knows-where.

Early July 2004:
Washington D.C
20 degrees. Short shorts and short shirts. 20 pounds more.

July 3rd, 2004:
Frankfurt. Gate E 21.
Last shift, 2 hours prior to the flight.10 hours after a long flight. Some coffee from MacDonald, with 80% level of caffeine, and a 25 cent ketchup for each wish of adding taste to your buds. Some people wearing-Greek-flag for God knows what.

a stack of bags piling up. a smell of cajuput oil tree and some minty balsamic. a friend giving a head massage. a huge mentos, a moose stuff animal. another 2 hours, after arriving for 5 hours.

a trip through the skywalk, a secluded waiting area, 20 minutes of sleep.
good time. fun jokes. lame tricks.

20 kids, 17-18, lost in between.
not ready to go home after they left home.
not ready to set the future, after been told the they're the future.

2009: here and there
spread out. here and there. around 23ish.
a few marriages, added with some media coverage, love stories, smoking, some drinks, midnight rendez-vous, sleep over, birthday parties, personal visits, gain some kilos, loose some kilos, future talks, reminiscing,some lost contact - re-established by the oh-so-wonderful-book of faces;

stories of achievements - that somehow has been comprehended is not a matter who gets acknowledged of what by whom, but more of the unspeakable understanding all along there would be time that each would get there after all that has been done.

losing a bit of oneself, gaining a bit of one own.
some small physical and philosophical adjustment here and there.
nevertheless, we knew its been there after all.

thus what probably matters would be: what was, not what is.
or is it?

this is me being candid

2009-04-09T12:58:00.003+07:00

ah, the heck.gw kangen tauuu', brudut...

umpf

2009-03-24T09:58:00.003+07:00

as hurt as it was guys, me watching you change - well, grow. i was in awe. i know we're somewhere down the road of defining our lives. as overwhelming as it was. at least there were you circling around in the inner side of me.

great job, inner circle.

c.omple.(te)mentary

2009-03-19T08:39:00.002+07:00

ah yes, i got the point. but you heard me, it's not like i lost it. i just choose not to bother it or bothered by it now. he's doing great and, as much as i wish he's around - i think he's been greater than ever, and i wouldn't want to be the one to mess it up. i know it won't be long. and i know he'd be around soon enough. but i'm doing great now. still a bit incomplete, but then now i know what complementary is all about, and why it starts with 6 exact words with complete.

2009-03-13T15:55:00.002+07:00

it's an update. tentang boneka beruang yang waktu itu hilang. sekarang sudah ada di tempat tidur saya lagi. but i'm taking him for granted. i don't even kiss it good night. mungkin belum. belum takdirnya.

lenient

2009-03-13T14:52:00.003+07:00

i'm not at home now. again. for another 5 days. i know i've started working and have been doing this so called volunteering for the last couple of years - taking part in almost each activity that they might offer. but now that i start working, it's a place to run in a way from all this routine of surviving in a post-graduate syndrome.

but i kinda like my job. it's not stressful yet i know how my being help. so i woke up this morning, having a 3hours of sleep after looking after 4 little 16 years old kids. thinking that skipping office would be an option, but then again, i better not. i have a paper need to be proposed on monday, so i better work that out.

but well, the office seems to be rather sleepy. i was an hour late. everybody was doing some company visit, and an old friend of mine was online. and i couldn't find an excuse no to bug him. so i poked him out.

we have this weird friendship. somehow, i know i haven't had any similarities but the fact that we were in the same year. and now, that we have a pinpoint friend who pretty much bugs his thought every now and then. unfortunately she's my best friend. he knows. she knows. i'm pretty much trapped.

well, this friend of mine is seriously one of a kind. had i not know him, i doubt i'd have such a rich view upon things. -the same thing actually applies to most of my friend, but i would have no access to have this kind of friend elsewhere-.he rambles a lot. which gives little help everytime we need to fix his issues upon my other friends, because he would go here and there, with analogies (and not telling that his stories were connected with how things are, and me being practical as i am, wouldn't have a clue).

then, come up this supernova. our so-called placed that we might stay without caring the outer world. and the heck to the universe. and i remember this talk i had with my best friend, the one that interconnects us. we were selecting a bunch of people that we would choose to stay with us in our own lenient place. people who would have the same standard of living, most likely different view upon things and the way we absorb things, yet we have an ideal traits. some probably with ambition, it doesn't hurt. you just need to humanize it. we would have our own country and our own president. we'd work things out cause we've been working together for ages, and we don't have to yell to let people work. they would work or share thoughts or apply their ideas because it would make them live - it would give them money in the end, but first and foremost, it makes us alive.leniently alive.

lenient. he likes that word.
we'll talk some more, nan. ym helps to keep us in tracks with our ramblings here and there. meeting in person would be fun, but i doubt we'd be as productive.

i miss thee..

2009-03-05T10:43:00.002+07:00

come hither.please do. it's been a while and i should really think it's about time

the talk

2009-03-02T09:08:00.008+07:00

listen.believe.obey.it's me. i don't break promises. it's you. so hold on. i'd carry you through.

celebrating his life

2009-02-02T09:38:00.004+07:00

a good mentor of ours passed away yesterday. he's 27.he was such a living person. and that is how i and my friends choose to remember him. the never ending smile and laugh as he teased the kids he gave session for, how communication would means so very differents wherever you are.

but wherever you are now,kak. you know we miss you already.

in loving memory of the celebrated life of Andi Asril Asmarul Yusuf, INAYPTMG99,

our beloved Kak Iyus.

and so it is*

2009-01-15T15:10:00.009+07:00

hey there, ******h

2009-01-09T08:25:00.000+07:00

to ei and nena. for the song that bugs me so much, may i?

dear, dut. hey there, this is as obvious as i can get, i miss you.

jakarta giving sounds

2009-01-08T10:04:00.004+07:00

taking a motor ride for almost every single morning (and evening) on my way back and forth to my dearest midtown office, takes me to another level of understanding this city. this city (what i mean with this city, i'm talking about the people) is either so fully occupied with whatever they do or heading to go- or they're naively think this place gives a better reasoning for them to feel alive and keep on living.

so, most of the time, i tried to be like other people on the road. they're pretty much occupied with themselves, though obviously you wouldn't talk with your fellow motor rider who's standing next to you. and since i don't drive - i ride- i simply sit. and i plug my ears

the sounds of jakarta beat any sound coming from my dear mp3 - ignoring the choice of putting its highest level of sound of fear it would damage my ear.

then again it was more of the fear that i would lose my contact with the world. i'm not that much of a people person sometime. but i would try my very best to at least have myself connected with things that might share stories without actually talk. so the city talks with its way.

the road sighing as the the tires screech, and the people getting mad as the horns ensemble an orchestra of how this city live.

i'm not sure if it's the better place to living live. i like its ignorance, its ironic, its struggle, its fight, its hype.

but sometime, an aurora borealis on the sky as the silence of the wood and its deers drop by as you have your hot cocoa in a jacuzzi whenit snows - that would help me talk with what the other part of the world have to say. i would rather listen, now.

terimarassi

maine and the morin in the morning

2008-12-02T11:57:00.003+07:00

well, i just got all sentimentil after looking at some picture that my family in maine uploaded in facebook. after having to see them again this past winter, i thought i would have a full circle completed. apparently not. i still think i owe them a lot with just having to have me in their lives that one year.

i remember the time dad yelled at me, almost at the end of my stay. and how i am extremely glad that that happened. i had never seen him that angry, and i was upset i couldn't do anything better even in my last couple of weeks. so this entry goes to them.

for the maine experience that they give.
for the thanksgiving-christmas marathon that they put ahead of their schedule for me (they didn't usually do christmas tree hunting and decorating the weekend after thanksgiving. that year they did)
for the overwhelming christmas experience.
the tree cutting. the apple picking. the thanksgiving dinner. the camp trip. the moose watching. the egg hunting.
fot the soccer game, and basketball trip
for the extremely gorgoeous(?) view at the back yard ..it's breathtaking
for the deer that dad shot that thanksgiving break
for the talk and the walk
for the hugs
for the survivor and american idol nights
for the pot pie, the pasta salad, and italian sandwiches
for the fresh baked banana bread that i could never quite achieve doing it myself
for the blueberry muffin
for the snow (i know you didn't do it, but the ambience that you built made the snow simply beautiful)
for the sledding down the hill
for the wood cutting to keep the wood stove went alright
for the snow shoving
for the christmas gifts
for hershey and milo

for having me still in your life..

would this even mean a thing?

2008-11-26T10:40:00.002+07:00

Posté devant la fenêtreJe guetteLes âmes esseuléesA la faveur de l'automnePosté devant la fenêtreJe regretteDe n'y avoir songéMaintenant que tu m'abandonnesA la faveur de l'automneRevient cette douce mélancolieUn, deux, trois, quatreUn peu comme on fredonneDe vieilles mélodiesRivé devant le téléphoneJ'attendsQue tu daignes m'appelerQue tu te décides enfinToi, tes allures de garçonneRompiez un peu la monotonieDe mes journée de mes nuitsA la faveur de l'automneRevient cette douce mélancolieUn, deux, trois, quatreUn peu comme on fredonneDe vieilles mélodiesA la faveur de l'automneTu redonnesA ma mélancolieSes couleurs de super-scopitoneA la faveur de l'automneComment ai-je pu seulementÊtre aussi bête ?On m'avait prévenuVoici la vérité nueManqueraitPlus que le mauvais tempsS'y mette,Une goutte de pluie etJ'aurais vraiment tout perdu

2008-11-17T16:12:00.004+07:00

as it zaps,
you find yourself within a halt,

it was then that i embrace the details,

because in a while,blur is simply inevitable.

but, sometimes it's fun to figure out what happen beneath the view.

terimarassi

vain

2008-11-17T08:48:00.003+07:00

last week, somehow vainity (my own made up wording*) came and confronted.

i started to think that infinity exists only in mathemathical equation, or godly issues.
but then god probably knows that humans are in no capacity to be in infinity. mathemathical equation would be applicable (or revisable) over time, while us? we simply deteriorate.

it is somehow a manner of needing baseline, timeline, and deadline. thus we would know that there are limits to whatever we do. a full realization, awareness, and conscious feeling towards our inner self.

so, inner self. admit it..you're weak and not that powerful. but then again, having limitations, pushes you to your limits of your strength and power.

like when you really love someone, yet you know you're limited with yourself and your surrounding. nevertheless, you don't stop loving. true?

missstill

2008-11-14T09:57:00.004+07:00

I have been aware lately that life is a drama series. Well, similar with Achmad Albar’s “Dunia Ini Panggung Sandiwara” phrase. Tapi ini hidup, bukan dunia. Dunia cuma tempat, hidup itu manusianya.

Dulu, waktu saya masih di dunia sinetron, walau bukan jadi artis, sayangnya [atau untungnya], saya kira saya jadi bagian pembohongan publik, pembodohan publik. Ngga bantuin bangsa ini jadi pintar, dalam berbahasa, berekspresi, atau menerima penilaian. Tapi mungkin mereka tidak pernah membohongi. Justru mungkin mereka jadi manusia paling ngga munafik karena mengakui adanya hidup yang demikian. Yang mereka angkat jadi sinetron, dan menyebutnya ‘serpihan kisah manusia’. Orang-orang di sekitar saya lagi ngejalanin drama kehidupannya, yang saya rasa bakal hit berat kalau dijadiin sinetron (and to tell you the truth, I can see it goes stripping every day, prime time for at least 2 consecutive years).

I opened an email I sent to myself with regards of my days when I was in those eras. I thought I was in my own drama. Within it I would be this independent protagonist girl, ordinary as always, circled with friends, waiting for a promise not quite said, yet knew it’s a prophecy of her own life.

A trip other people’s life brought me back to the covenant I kept for myself. A separation of feelings out of force, not will. Despite my will to stay put no matter what, this prophecy fulfilling itself scares the heck out of me.

The separation that others felt make me somehow feel: glad, miss, and awkwardly knew why I fell in love in the first place. In love and not out of it.

Oddly (some say sadly, but who cares) that’s how I wake up each sunrise. That I’m doing this in love of the prophecy, of the people, of the words, of the bearing, of the wearing out, of the tears, of the subconscious torture, and of so many darn things..

To bear what is yet to come..

the shrugging atlas

2008-11-10T08:43:00.007+07:00

remember atlas?that greek god that has the globe on top of his shoulder?
i wonder (intrigued by ayn rand's wording), had he ever got tired or even had a sore back?

(*fyi: gw pernah stand by menjadi interpreter bersama teman gw for 3 days in a row. we didn't have anything on our back, yet at the end of the third day, all we wanted was some deep spa massage..)

thus, i can't hardly imagine that atlas had never wanted even a simple rub on the back.
so when atlas get tired, he might shrug.

you know, if you've read my entries, how i've been self-indulged with myself and my feelings. i thought this blog should be a compound for the feelings that my, even if with all the analogies, some dear friend (yes, i mean you, wen) would read me like an open book.

anyway, i've been exposed to other people's life lately. uhm, i had just noticed how my friends had found their path of whatever passion they might have in their life. my dear afs friends who thought we were these oh-so-great dudes - having to survive from one year of independent in states, europe, or oz land. we were simply babies back then. those who were exposed to the world as they born, seeing all the new stuff not knowing if options were possible, and that choosing means you're leading your way down to hell or nirvana.

i figured, we have been gaining something from that year of vicinity. coming down to this year, each and every one of them seems to have their own define definition of how live should be perceived. most of them were extracted on the exposure we had within that years.
thus when it seems to be a trend to talk about the other side of you i simply thought of them. I just found there's these part, that has now finally revealed. some i've never thought (or hope) they were capable of.

as i've been questioning this question myself. whether or not you're exposing all the sides you have (or wish to show), or you simply show the ones that you might think other people would feel more comfortable of.

it (again) is a matter of option.

i have sides that i would keep for my own self. i share it only with a number of person. but those people might have not been shared my other side who might be just a bit too much to handle for them. but they know that my other side exist. i do know that they don't like it, thus, i don't indulge them in that side too often, or too much. up till now i think i only have at least 5 person who knows those sides. 2 of which i've felt comfortable enough to share it with.

so dear friends,we are allowed to have those sides.
having consistency in your character might be boring.
you need some getaway every now and then.

and if we can afford it through ourselves, why bother search for more.

and , no. we're not being a hoax for having those sides. we're actualizing ourselves in different ways. we are hoax when we try to hide them. when we do not reveal it, we're not hiding, we simply choose to be the kind we are on that particular time. other people, well let's just say it's the part they have not known quite yet.

atlas knows he has the other side of him that might want to shrug. when he stay put, he choose to do so. simply because when he shrug, the world may crumble apart.

so for the sake of us, atlas hold the globe still.

kangen gila

2008-10-05T20:49:00.001+07:00

tapi gak mau nyusahin orang. this is my thing to deal.

learning to pray from owen meany

2008-10-02T23:35:00.006+07:00

i once was recommended john irving's a prayer for owen meany. the book stayed with me for almost 6 months. it even got soaked from flood, and i had to asked a friend to get a copy in barnes and nobles to give back that dear friend his precious book. i've apologized a couple of times.

by the time i got a copy for him, he already had a second hand copy of it.
he was psyched that i got the exact copy like the one which had been soaked.
he refused to open the new one. it was sealed.
he said he would just simply keep it.
he was rather obsessive compulsive.
he knows what i think about this.

oh, i never get to finish that owen meany book. i never learnt his prayer.

re-reading my entry. i am surprise upon how cheerful this entry had been. two days ago, i was again agonized, people. not knowing of what and why, thus it got me into a more agony.
i wrote my journal, not knowing what to write. i tried to shed my tears but failed to do so, since there were nothing to be cried upon.

so i prayed.

i prayed that i just simply understand of this whole state of being. but then i understood. i seriously did.
i understood that a process is a journey of its own. that it requires time, that it requires some keep on looking forward. that it requires some faith.

had i told you what my favorite quote was? it's salman rushdie saying,

"the opposite of faith is not not having faith. it's doubt."

heck yeah. having doubt is way more terrifying than not having faith at all.

so i doubt my understanding.and so i prayed. i prayed that god bear my fear (and tears) if i ever doubt again.

waiting for my rainbow to come

2008-10-02T22:12:00.000+07:00

therefore, i'm waiting.

weirdee

2008-10-01T23:17:00.005+07:00

these whole lebaran movies were thematically made upon the so-called 'love' thing. darn. apparently, it successfully was a way of making my wish - that i posted in my facebook account- came true. hip hip horray.><. i did cry my heart out upon this cheesy movie. well it's not cheesy, i think it was just great, but it brought me to the thought of 'had i watched it in a different time, in a different state of mind, i would probably laughed my heart out.' just like what i did with august rush. a friend of mine and i have ruined august rush for its sense of cheesiness in script, storyline, and exaggerating scene. the actors were okay though. well, it has john rys myer(?) and robin williams for goodness sake. that movie, august rush, i mean. was highly appraised by two friends of mine. they are way more positive - in a good way, guys. i mean they are the kind of person that would be inspired and sought for inspiration, and make it truthfully a reality. well, apparently i was just a bit bitter compared to them. so when this august rush kid were being asked ,

"do you like music?"
and answered with
"more than i like food."

i laughed my heart out.

i mean seriously. when he was asked,

"what do you want to be?"

and he said,

"found.."

those two friends were in tears. i simply rolled my eyes.

moreover i've been enjoying this vacation. baked my cookies, chat with a good friend of mine back in maine, finished my notetaking as i wish i could get those pumps after being paid, daydreaming upon my wedding dress (don't ask why, i just do). i even found a perfect song to be played on my way down the aisle, not the one in church. i think the church blessing should be more gregorian and church-y like. but that won't be till a couple of years from now. i know.

i'm simply glad

2008-09-30T20:23:00.002+07:00

Said I many times, love is illusion,
a feeling result of confusion
with knowing smile and blasé sigh,
a cynical so and so, am I.

I feel so sure, so positive,
so utterly unchangeably certain
though I never was aware of loving you
'til suddenly I realised there was love in you and oh...

In this world of ordinary people...
extraordinary people,
I'm glad there is you.

In this world of overrated pleasures
and underrated treasures,
I'm glad there is you.

I live to love,
I love to live with you beside me
this role, so new
I'll muddle through with you
if you'll guide me through.

In this world where many, many play at love
and hardly any stay in love,
I'm glad there is you.

More than ever, I'm glad there is you.

Said I many times, love is illusion...

numb-ing

2008-09-29T20:54:00.004+07:00

i am in no sense whatsoever in believing things or doubting things.
just come quickly and help things out..
in a month or two, i would most likely be numb.
and seriously,
as horrendous as this whole thing is right now,
there is nothing that i've been avoiding more than to feel numb.
not even you.

is irritated

2008-09-27T00:49:00.001+07:00

that friendster had somehow made her blog uncool. i'm sticking with you, spot.

to hamper.

2008-09-23T13:28:00.004+07:00

no relation whatsoever with the title of this entry. i am just glad that i have this huge crush with this dude, that i knew, but never actually get the chance to talk to. it's not a crush, crush. it's more like a sense of "man, this blunt and bold dude actually exist without me having a sense of annoying being around him."

having someone so settle yet somehow come in apprecating how people don't go by the same standard. it somehow feels like a self relieve, in a way. ngga tau kenapa. dan beneran ngga ngerti kenapa i have been in awe and feel an immediate sense of comfortable, knowing i need not to try too hard, just to be around him. as we don't communicate except for some states of hello (and i don't need more than that). he seems settle, yet comes in full realization that unsettlement is the best way of learning things. which is pretty much how i've been making my path of carreer (so may called) last night. that somehow i have been so settled in doing what i do, i need to put things in question. i am somehow ready.

another question though, bugging me for the last two days: whether or not, he's okay.

so wen, how is he?

growing pains

2008-09-04T11:35:00.003+07:00

i burst out in tears last evening, knowing that my dearest friend called, asking for a rendez-vous - in which i couldn't make it in such a short notice- and telling me this magnificent news.

she's moving out in january to singapore. for an internship. for a month.
i know..i know.. i might be exaggerating things.but then again, i was looking those day in which we were young and carefree. no thinking of what might lie ahead. and that our biggest issue is how to keep on volunteering without having our parents grudges.

the so-called society said that i am in my crossroad level of having finish school and going to the real world. taking responsibilities. earning money. and all that.thinking about the future. thinking about financial security.

not that i'm not excited for that. that friend of mine and i have been talking hours of nonsense on how things would be done once we get to this phase. ensuring that we're affecting the world in our own way.not the world's. but it's the world against us, here. it struck me yesterday, that even my friend is embracing the compromise with the world. i know i would compromise eventually. it's just...

we're growing up. the all 17 year old friends are now in their early 20s and ready for a serious and real and significant stuff. and as for it, i realize that they are oh-so-powerful in their very own way. and i, in my own way.

i would love to know that my existence is a piece of completing puzzle that match the other piece.
and that without it would never be quite right.

belajar

2008-08-31T12:33:00.003+07:00

rasanya tahun ini pembelajarannya banyak banget. waktu balik ke amerika rasanya semua pembelajaran yang terjadi di tahun 2003-2004 baru bisa dipahami seutuhnya. bahwa keberadaan mom, dad, crystal, sama renee porsinya udah pas banget.
exactly the way i need them to be, the way i am capable of i guess.

the whole trip after getting back was a journey of its own.it's been devastating yet thrilling.
the hours spent watching "Horton Hears a Who" all by myself, as i shed tears for no actual reason but the fact that i wish i could've watched it in a different manner. it was somehow a revelation of me coping things.
the existence of facebook and the abandonement of friendster for the first couple of months.
the people that surrounds me to get through.
bearing the one i miss.

as pathetic as it sounds loving requires way more than just having each other around, huh? i wouldn't know if loving means you get something in return or what. perhaps.

it's been thrilling as i lose control of my own feeling. as bad as i tried to kill my senses, apparently i am not the kind of person who could really do that. especially doing it to my dearest ones.

read my entry upon vulnerability. i am as scared upon being vulnerable as i did. yet, human is vulnerable. it creates us to be a part of the social life. when you don't know about vulnerability, you wouldn't get the concept on trusting, depending, and having people with you.

iya wen, nangis emang enak. lo jadi nyadar kalo manusia tuh rapuh. terus kita nangis lagi, dengan merasa sedikit kuat. masih berasa rapuh, tapi paling ngga jadi sedikit lebih kuat dari yang kemarin.

kyak gw, kanget banget sama si beruang. bodoh.

kembang api.

2008-08-24T23:06:00.003+07:00

went to serpong the other day.last saturday to be exact. a night out with my mom, an aunt, and twin cousin - for a what said to be the first and biggest firweorks performance. brought all the way from singapore.

and it goes like this.

i love it. i guess my heart need a sleek of the pounding sounds that thump all your senses.
the extravagant feel when the huge big flowery images come and go .
the feel of lost once it ended.

it's the feel that counts.

rasanya menjadi dewasa

2008-08-23T12:56:00.002+07:00

you know you would never be ready, but you know that could never be an excuse in this matter. darn, i miss last year.

merasa.

2008-08-13T02:39:00.002+07:00

i'm numb. in all sense, i guess. i wish. but what is there to wish for.
.

image:titislintangandari

continuum

2008-08-11T14:37:00.006+07:00

i started today with a huge relief (or is it relieved? darn, i'm pretty sure it's relief, you don't add -ed to a noun, don't you?).
the thesis thing that i missed deadlines and thought i would only have till the 15th and thought the 15th is this wednesday. what a miracle it is. wednesday is now a friday. amazing God. (or rather foolish human). so i got to my now-oh-so-very-quiet campus, since we're on semester break, waiting for some lecturers to sign my defense proposal. and rather try to wait in vain till the clock hits 1600h.

darn, it's 0930h.

but i got my subtitling thing going on -CSI las vegas's never been this boring.and i have to force myself not to get online, cause i still have an episode of 'guts and bolts' to be subtitled.
but hey, hey, i think i hurt my thumb from typing and hitting ctrl+c and ctrl+v. so i stopped for the sake of my thumb. never thought you would be this dearly loved, oh dear thumb.

and my so-long-amusing-friend from freshmen year came and ...well she was stressing with her quantitative research, and i seriiously can't help her there. the thing is she was one of a great friend i've found during my first couple of months in this so called hedonistic campus.

she spent two year in suriname with her dad working for foreign affairs, and i - well i just got back from the states, longing for some english speaking friends that doesn't take my assertiveness as showing off and making everyone else's look bad. so we were all suit right to each other.

so today, we met after months of non-meeting. her stressfull face, just got back with a silver from kaltim's PON- a hockey player, she is, and asked this horrific question,

"where do all those numbers in this thesis come from?"

i would've been god to know the answer. but i know people expect much from me here- and i seriously try to say it in the most modest way possible.hmpf.
i tried to help her figure things out. then, there, we met the ' continuum line'. a word i refer to john mayer, thank you very much.

up till 10 minutes ago, we were figuring out why the heck the numbers in continuum lines seem to appear on its own. it's either :

the sigma of something : by something . 100%
or
the amount of questions (in scale) .n. 100%

we went back and forth to other people's and last year's thesis. checking out and comparing what they did to finally get the continuum line.something i've been avoiding since the very first time we had to make thesis. xoxo to qualitative.

mulder and scully old cliche saying would've said : the truth is out there (well, in here actually. in those piles of freaking old thesis).

mr. mayer, thank you for making continuum such an item. without you it would only stay in the depth of a quantitative research.

percobaan kedua

2008-08-06T10:10:00.000+07:00

kok ga ada yang berubah ya, settingannya..hmm.what did i not do?

mencoba settingan baru

2008-08-06T10:06:00.001+07:00

maaf ini hanya sekedar mencoba settingan baru di blog saya ini..
dengan berbekal doa dan penuh harapan, semoga settingannya berhasil.

bergerak cepat

2008-08-05T15:58:00.000+07:00

kalau semua bergerak secepat ini, rasanya detailnya takkan terlihat.
untungnya ada yang mau berhenti sejenak. melihat hal-hal kecil yang tadinya mungkin terlewat.